By the Seat of Mom's Pants

How We Spent Our Christmas Vacation

2012-01-06T21:34:00.000-06:00

Although this was Norah's 3rd Christmas, it felt a lot like our first. It was the first year she had a concept of Santa and all other things Yuletide. Playing it up became a new favourite past time. It began in early December. We had been prepping her with some chronological markers that went something like this: first comes snow, then comes Santa, then comes your birthday, then comes the new house. On the first day it snowed, she literally squealed with excitement and then asked, "Where's Santa?" Um... about a month away, honey. To distract her, we went outside and followed tracks in the snow, trying to uncover their creator. Ironically, the sled I used to pull Nolan created tracks that perplexed and worried my father for a couple days before he thought to ask.

The improvised, customized stories we tell her multiple times a day became centred around the guy in red being in trouble and Norah coming to the rescue. She was also introduced to Rudolph. Not long after, on a dark, December morning as she and C pulled out of my parent's driveway, the headlights shone on two deer. "Reindeer!" Norah exclaimed. C stopped, turned around, and they got a close look at the deer for a good 30 seconds before they made their way into the brush. The magic that this time of year creates was palpable.

Next came sussing out what she wanted Santa to bring. When she was first asked, she would simply name whatever was around at the time, "More crayons." But one day, C noticed a list up at daycare; Woody was all it said. Apparently Toy Story was the feature film on Movie Friday and, even though most of them were too young to "get it," Norah and all her friends were obsessed. The list grew to include a puzzle (she is a whiz at puzzles) and a doll house "with little dolls." I knew I wanted to get her a Leap Frog toy to help with her letters and numbers as she is pretty preoccupied with them as of late. A little online ordering and Christmas was taken care of.

Wait! What about Nolan? Talk about the kid who has everything! But it wouldn't be Christmas if he had nothing to unwrap, so we decided Santa would bring him a ride on car with a ball under the seat that played music when he bounced.

In early December, Nolan and I took a short trip to Victoria to visit Auntie Kim and Auntie Jena. Nolan handled the first flight like a pro, in spite of being seated next to a less-than-impressed-inebriated gentleman who, at the end of the flight, accused me of drugging my baby to get him to be so well behaved. Unfortunately, our first flight was late, causing us to miss our second, and we were subsequently rerouted onto two more flights. The second flight was less than stellar (as it coincided with bedtime and Nolan refuses to sleep anywhere but a crib), but it was mitigated by the fact that we were seated next to a father of six. By the third flight, Nolan had caught another wind and spent the whole time charming the older woman next to us. Once in Victoria, our primary objective was shopping. I picked up some Rocky Mountain Soap Company stocking-stuffers and some new clothes for C, and only a couple items for myself. Over all, the trip was not as restful as we had hoped, as Nolan was under the weather and quickly learned that Mommy and milk were keeping 7/11's hours and he could tank up whenever he liked. He woke 4-5 times a night for 30-60 minutes each time. Fortunately, C was able to get some rest at home with Norah.

When we returned home, I had one epic day of Christmas baking and the sugarfest commenced. The season, combined with living at Grandma and Papa's and the guilt associated with my kids' lives being out of whack have led to the demise of Norah's good eating habits. Every night, she asks for "something different" and wants to check the "covered" to see what she wants to eat. Christmas baking quickly became currency used in bribes for vegetable consumption. I keep telling myself that once we are back in our own place with our own routine, things will get better, but even I know it's going to take a lot of work..

Back to the Christmas cheer. On the 23rd, my brother and his family departed on a ski vacation, and we jumped at the chance to house/dog-sit. For six lovely days, we got a taste of what it would be like to have our own space again. Norah felt like such a big girl, sleeping in her cousin's new loft bed, and there were more than enough toys to keep her busy and distract her until Christmas day. Nolan was just pleased to have a change of scenery.

Christmas Eve arrived. During the day, we visited Auntie N, Uncle D, and cousins V and E. It had been a long time since we last saw them and Norah was so excited for the visit and gift exchange. Nolan just wanted to snuggle with Auntie, who has been one of his favourite people from the start. That night, after a supper of ham, scalloped potatoes and "candied yams" (sweet potato casserole that Norah will eat only because there's sugar on it and we don't refer to it as potatoes) we excitedly left cookies for Santa and carrots and apples for the Reindeer. We wrote a note, thanking Santa in advance and indicating who the cookies were for. Norah was sawing logs by 7:30, which was perfect, because we still had wrapping to do. Norah slept until 7:00 the next morning. Unfortunately, Nolan was up much earlier. When Norah awoke, we led her to the kitchen where she saw that Santa had eaten most of his cookies, and the Reindeer had their fill as well. She wasn't interested in the note Santa had left. She drank a yogurt drink and headed for the presents. I was nervous because Santa had explained in his note that he wasn't able to fit all her gifts in his sled and that he had asked someone special to bring her what she was hoping for. Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice Woody's absence right away.

When we did read the note, she was very proud to learn that, "When Rudolph ate the carrots and apples, his nose shone even brighter"-- a fact she keeps repeating to this day. It wasn't long before Norah's other Uncle R, Auntie L, and cousin S arrived and Grandma and Papa weren't far behind. We ate a delicious brunch and opened even more presents (including Woody, yay!). The weather was so beautiful that afternoon, that C took the kids to the park where Norah demonstrated her new found ability to pump on the swing and where her brother enjoyed his first ever ride in a swing himself. Norah loved pushing him even though on the back swing he would knock her over every other time. It was leftovers for supper that night, and a reasonable bedtime for all. It was nice, but I missed the turkey.

Boxing Day more than made up for it, with both sides of C's family having traditional turkey at lunch and supper respectively. Between feeding Nolan and engaging Norah in play with her extended cousins, with whom she is quite shy, I hardly got to say hello to the adults at lunch. The food was good, but I had to eat and run as Nolan was due for a nap. After a drive around town, I came back and picked up the other two. We ran "home" to mix up a quick salad to bring to supper (Norah was irate that her playtime had been cut short and wanted to get to Great Grandma's NOW to continue playing with V and E). Norah and Nolan were thrilled to receive matching hippo winter hats from The Purple Hippo (whose owner happens to be C's cousin). In fact, I can expect more than a few of her friends to be donning them before the season is over, as it is her go-to gift now. Our stay there was a little less rushed, though we had to skip dessert to get the kids home in time for bed.

The rest of our days in the city were filled with playdates and errand running during the day, and movies (or at least parts of them) after the kids went to sleep. We all seem to have brought back germs with us, as each of us has taken our turn with fevers and head colds, but hopefully we are all on the mend at this point. While our house won't be ready as soon as we had hoped, we are still excited for our possession and the wait will only make it that much sweeter.

Like the weather, this holiday season has been mild-- taking the time to enjoy it through the eyes of our kid made it so much easier to avoid the trap of rush-rush-rush we had become accustomed to in the past. Now time to write my "New Year's" letter...

2011-12-03T21:28:00.001-06:00

So... what have we been up to the past two months?

Well...

In October, we packed up and moved in with my parents. It sounds pretty simple when I say it like that. It wasn't. It was a hectic week of Mom stopping by after work to lug totes of clothes and other things we just couldn't live without back to her place, 45 minutes out of the city. It was a crazy weekend of trucks being loaded and unloaded, me trying to make our space here functional, and C back in the city madly trying to pack the remainder of our belongings in time for the movers on Tuesday. It was touch and go for a while when they came-- C even called to order another container to be dropped off as we didn't think it was going to fit in the one we had, but the guys we hired worked miracles and squeezed it all in.

Moving was not a fun process, but the purging that was involved was cathartic. Starting fresh is a feeling that I like. Unfortunately, in this case, there is a kind of purgatory in between.

But purgatory could be worse than having a space as large as the main floor of our old house essentially to ourselves. And our landlords could be worse. C might have a few words about the commute, but we've made due. I take Nolan into the city a couple times a week to buy groceries, run errands, or visit with some other moms/babies who happen to be at home. Days we stay out here are sometimes hard to fill, though I can usually conjure a reason to head to the Co-op. I have cooked almost every night and now that my class is over, I'm pretty much a domestic goddess (I don't want to brag, but I even made my bed three times this week). Norah will stay home more often, now that I am not using naps to conduct literature reviews or put together presentations.

This past Monday was the last class of the semester for my grad class. I can't believe how natural it feels to be back at it or how efficient a student I am now that I don't have all the time in the world. I am pleased with the caliber of work I produced and excited to be knee deep into the process. I am still not settled on a topic for my thesis, but hopefully heading back to work this coming semester will help to inspire me.

Oh yes, I had intended to go back at the semester change, but a slight delay on the Fresh Start front has changed that. Instead, I will make sure we have at least two weeks in the new place before I jump back in. Not ideal, but better than then me trying to commute 45 minutes with a 10 month old and a three year old, while completing a grad class, working full time, and then trying to settle into a new house.

Nolan has continued to grow on the same trajectory. I am not going to even hazard a guess at his height or weight, but he is bigger than a lot of kids twice his age. He is eating solids fairly well. I started him on purees when he was just over 6 months, but a few weeks ago, I switched to a Baby Led Weaning approach, which has made for some messy entertainment. I'm hoping we can avoid having another Magic-Bullet kid in the house. So far, his gag reflex appears to be a lot less jumpy than Norah's was. His sleep has been a roller coaster of success and failure. Because of our present living arrangement, we try hard to keep our children quiet when others are sleeping (which can be as early as 7:30 at this house). This means we are running to both kids at the slightest peep. It goes without saying that this has led to some pretty brutal sleep habits. Nolan will go through phases where he is up every two hours and Norah has had a few beauts where she has decided that being awake from 2 a.m.-5a.m. is appropriate. We use nights when my Dad is out of town to re-sleep train them and ride out the benefits as long as we can. Tonight, Nolan didn't cry a single minute before drifting off to sleep. Let's hope there's more of that in the future.

Norah refuses to nap for us any longer. If we don't throw her in the car at some point in the afternoons on weekends, we end up running an insane asylum from noon to 8:00 (or 9 or 10). Being bested by a toddler is not the best feeling in the world.

That said, each of them provides us with enough moments that really are the best to make up for it. Nolan's laugh comes so easily. Just press your nose into his chin or "scare" him when he's expecting it, and he'll bust a gut. Norah loves to dance and sing and make-believe (Or be me, mummy. I be mummy, k? Norwah! Come here, Norwah! Time for bed!). Her life is a constant performance where we can see the wheels turning (is THIS how I be... a girl?... a BIG girl?... a good girl? ... a friend? ... a big sister? ... is THIS how I... show that I'm angry? ... get what I want? ... make them laugh?). We all have a pretty good time most days, though with the long commute and rough night times, there has been more than enough frustration here lately to last us a lifetime. I'm glad that Christmas break is coming soon to give us a breather before the home-stretch to our Fresh Start.

That's all I have in me tonight. I'll try again soon. Thanks for still reading!

The Sleep Train

2011-09-20T11:04:00.000-06:00

Last night was my second night class of the semester. Yes, I am back at the university working toward my Masters in Education (Curriculum and Instruction). When I initially considered this move, I took for granted that Nolan would be taking a bottle at this point. Boy, was I wrong. We have tried everything, to no avail (on that note, if you are interested in a variety of nine different nipple/bottle styles, I can hook you up). This has increased my momxiety about school immensely.

The first week went well. I fed Nolan right before I left and my mother came to help out. She got Norah into bed while C soothed Nolan to sleep. I made it home before he needed to eat again.

This week was... not so great. Nolan had a weird day for naps and, based on his own tendencies, would be ready for bed between 6:00-7:30. This seemed ideal, though out od routine. My mom came by again, much to Norah's delight. They played downstairs while C tried to settle Nolan. Nolan slept for 30 minutes, but then began to transition. He often likes to nurse through this sleep stage. Without the boob readily available, he ended up in this state of sleep limbo where he was too tired to fully wake, but too agitated to settle into sleep. C did everything he could to soothe him, but the crying began and didn't let up.

To make matters worse, Norah decided she was not interested in bed. My mother did her best, but with no sign of Norah giving in and a 45 minute drive in rainy conditions ahead of her, C sent her home. With two screaming kids, he somehow managed to call upon Norah's big sister instincts and calm her by asking her to help make the baby feel better. It did nothing for Nolan. but when C left her room to try to soothe him again, she stayed in bed and went to sleep.

When I pulled into the driveway, a bouncing silhouette was in the window. I dashed in and started nursing Nolan to soothe him. After 20 minutes, he was calm, but fully awake. Needless to say, the idea of 11 more weeks of this was undesirable for all parties concerned. Did I mention that in less than a month we are moving to my parents' place 45 minutes away to wait for our house to be built? Instead of being away from 6:00-9:30, I will be gone from 5:15-10:15. Oy.

This led to a discussion about sleep training. As you may recall, we sleep trained Norah quite early because of her colic. While I know for a fact it was the best decision for her, I have resisted it with Nolan so far. He is fairly easy to get to sleep-- we just have to work at keeping him that way. He is such a happy, social kid, that the idea of leaving him to cry wasn't sitting well with me (whereas Norah cried whether we were holding her or not). However, C made some compelling arguments as to why learning to sleep on his own now would be beneficial-- having evenings to pack instead of holding a baby, Being able to put him down for naps so I can keep Norah home more often, his sanity on Monday nights, etc.. To break the tie, I consulted our Sleep Bible- The 90 Minute Baby Sleep Program. It discussed how 6-8 months is the optimal window for sleep training (babies are mature enough to self-soothe, but still adaptable enough to change habits without too much fuss). It discussed Cry-It-Out (CIO) and No Cry methods, both of which we were familiar with, but it was a nice refresher.

After our reading, we decided to try a hybrid approach. We would soothe him until his eyes were closing, and then instead of swaddling, we would put him to sleep on his stomach, rubbing his back until he fell asleep, so long as it didn't just stimulate him more. We had used this sleep position with Norah and had success, as had a friend of mine who suggested it earlier that day. Just to be sure I googled stomach sleeping and confirmed that once babies can roll onto their tummies, many sleep that way without issue.

When he started to fuss, C took him into his room, put him in his sleep bag, and bounced. His eyes closed soon after, but he was still "singing" his grumpy song. I was skeptical that putting him down at this point was a good idea, but C went for it. He rubbed Nolan's back for a minute. Nolan fussed on and off, but started snoring soon after. I had to stifle a laugh.

We went to his room and watched him on the monitor, waiting for the screams. While he did lift his head and moan a bit, he quickly returned to sleep, and remained that way until 4 am. We discovered at his waking that his preference was actually to be in more of a 3/4 side position, rather than fully on his tummy.

Because of our prior experiences, we dared not dream of such an outcome-- and while I realize that this will not be the end of the process as teeth (oh! I almost forgot! Nolan cut his first tooth on the weekend!), and illness, and travel, and special occasions, and growth spurts, and immunizations, and changes of season all interfere with our progress-- I am hopeful for the sleep future of my child, and my personal sanity being restored (if only temporarily).

Woohoo!

Bedtime Blues

2011-09-16T23:24:00.000-06:00

You might be thinking, "Another post about sleep? Really? Why don't you give it a rest?" or maybe you're not into cheeky puns... regardless, yes, this is another post about sleep. Well, not sleep so much as bedtime.

Over the past two and a half odd years, sleep has become a sensitive subject in my house. Our success or failure as parents was measured by the number of hours we and our child(ren) were getting. The first year (okay, year and a half) was mostly failure. Since then, however, I feel like we win more than we lose-- even with an infant in the house. On a nightly basis, though, I often finish the bedtime routine feeling defeated, in spite of the fact that both the kids are sleeping.

Here's why:

7:15: Norah completing her supper at a snail's pace.

7:20: I take Nolan to feed him before Chris would put him to sleep for the night.

7:30: Norah, still at the dinner table, announces "I POOPED! I POOPED!" and I hear Chris rush her to the bathroom only to discover she has not, in fact, pooped, but merely has to poop. (If you are ever in a crowded room with my child and she yells "FIRE!" don't panic. Just take the matches away. She was only thinking of starting one).

7:40: I pass Nolan to Chris. Having hoped to squeeze a bath in before Norah went to bed, but recognizing the extended meal-time and10 minute potty break have complicated that desire, I concede that battle and instead embark upon bedtime routine.

7:50: Hands washed, teeth brushed, pants-less, Norah is monkeying around and refusing to cooperate. I go to cut out a construction paper star (aka Norah's Special Star) that Norah will tape onto another piece of construction paper holding one special star from each night she goes to sleep "like a big girl." Let's be clear: She gets the star before she actually goes to sleep and we don't take them away even if she doesn't cooperate because the one time Chris tried that it was like we needed an exorcist. In spite of this flaw in our system, they work pretty well. She now has 16 stars and I would say she legitimately earned 13 of them.

8:00: After allowing her to stick her special star onto her special paper, I am able to convince her to continue with the routine. Puffer and gummies completed, donning her pyjamas, Norah demands that we read a book (we had moved away from reading books right before bed, telling her a customized--and usually didactic-- tale instead). Going against my better judgement, I agree to diverge from routine and read a book. I lift her up to choose one and say, "Which book?" to which she responds, "No. Two books." to which I respond, "No. One book." to which she retorts, "No. Two books. One for you and one for me." to which I retort, "I do not need a book." but she insists, "Two books! One for you and one for me!" So I say, "One book or zero books." She smiles happily, "Zero books." "Fine." I say, putting her on her bed. Confused she cries, "NO! ZERO BOOKS!" She does not know what zero means. "Zero means none, Norah." She cries harder. "Pick one book!" I say, exasperated. She picks a dumb Spot book with flaps and reads it herself.

8:15: I turn on her white noise, tell her to climb to her pillow, turn out her lights, and climb into bed with her. "Who will be in your story tonight?" "A BIG MAD GIANT." I commence a story about a big mad giant who doesn't do anything his parents say, including going to bed. This turns out to be a big mistake. In spite of nearly drifting into sleep several times throughout the story, I manage to string together a coherent plot in which the giant sees the error of his ways and learns that doing what his parents say is actually best (yes. I propagandize my child in this way and I am not ashamed to say it. It usually works. Usually.).

8:25: Norah demands another story even though this has never been a part of the routine. I stand firm. "No, Norah. It is time to go to sleep." She begins to wig out. I give her several opportunities to stop crying, but to no avail. I leave. Norah gets out of bed and opens her door screaming, "I WANT TO WAKE UP! I WANT TO WAKE UP! I WANT TO BE WAKE!" Behaviour the likes of which we have not seen since before she was two. I go back in and put her on her bed. Only after she repeats, "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO BED!" about six times in a row do I realize that she has become the main character of my aforementioned story. Apparently she didn't catch the ending. Me: "Norah! Are you being the big mad giant?" Norah: (crying immediately ceases) "Yes." Apparently she's a method actor. Me: "Norah, I am going to tell you another story." Norah: "Another story?! You already told me big giant story!" She laughs. Me: "Let's be clear: you are not getting this story because you cried. Crying does not get you what you want. You are getting this story because Mommy made a big mistake telling you that giant story." Norah: "Okay Mom."

8:30: I tell Norah the story of her special stars and how they follow her from our red house to Grandma and Papa's and then to our new house to sing her to sleep.

8:35: After completing the story, Norah demands, "Stay six minutes." "Okay. I will stay six minutes." "No. Lots of minutes." "Fine. Lots of minutes." "And six minutes." "Only if you try to go to sleep." After lots of minutes of adjusting her blankets, reminding her to close her eyes, and her breathing finally relaxing, I sit up to leave the bed. I kiss her and she gives me a noogie. "I mess up your hair!" she cackles. "Norah," I say firmly, "I say, 'Goodnight, Norah. I love you.' Norah says...." "I love you, too." "Okay, have a good sleep." She goes to sleep.

8:45: I leave her room. I go close Nolan's blinds and arrange his bed for sleep. I go downstairs to inform C of my completed mission. He is ready to put Nolan in his crib. He follows me up the stairs, me turning out lights as I go so that they don't wake the boy. C puts him down and closes his door.

9:05: After a short visit, C goes to buy a car-seat for Nolan-- an errand that would have taken too long when the kids were awake. I go change laundry loads and fold the dry stuff while watching Ellen, which I have pvr'd.

9:30: I sit down to write this blog.

9:45: C returns with ice-cream. We each eat some. I return to typing in here.

10:20: Nolan wakes and C goes in to soothe him.

10:25: Nolan is not pleased. I go in to feed him back to sleep.

10:50: I put Nolan in his crib and return to writing this post.

Both of my kids will sleep between 10-12 hours tonight. I will likely get 5 or 6 (mostly because my insomniac tendencies have returned since I decided to go back to school). On a relative scale involving households with two children, one of whom is less than 6 months old, this is amazing, but I can't help but feel spent. Every night this week has looked similar-- lengthy productions to get the kids to sleep. There are nights when I leave Norah's bedroom only to be greeted by Nolan's cries for comfort and without a break end up spending over two hours just trying to get each of them dreaming.

On one hand, I feel bad complaining. There will come a time when I will have to sneak into their rooms when they are not around to try to get a sense of what is going on in their lives, when instead of calling my name, they will call their friends or significant others to help them deal with problems, when hugs and snuggles will be distant, rose-coloured memories (only for me, mind you. My kids will have no recollection of this beautiful struggle)... I will long for this then.

On the other, an evening to myself or... gasp! Out with friends would be amazing-- rejuvenating even. Heck, even just a night where bedtime was a one-act-play rather than a full-length opera would be nice. Is short and sweet too much to ask?

Probably. I guess I will have to settle for using this post as fodder for a guilt trip in the future.

Momxiety

2011-08-31T20:40:00.002-06:00

mom-x-i-e-ty [mom-zahy-i-tee]
noun, plural -ties

1. distress or uneasiness caused by fear relating to anything to do with one's children or the act of child-rearing. Characterized by a knot in one's stomach and irrational thoughts including but not limited to visualizations of worst-case-scenarios.

I came up with this portmanteau when I was facebooking the other day. Figured I better have something more substantial to prove my coinership (ooooh- there's another one!)

Now that we have the definition out of the way, here are the things that cause me momxiety:

1. Not being home for nap time.
2. Breastfeeding in public when I am alone.
3. My child waking prematurely from a nap.
4. Accidentally parenting my daughter into a vapid stereotype of a female.
5. Accidentally parenting my son into an apathetic stereotype of a male.
6. My child running too fast on concrete.
7. My child being rejected by other children.
8. My child being mean to other children.

I keep most of these momxieties to myself and do my best not to act on them (except for #4 & 5 which I do my best to remain consciously critical of) because my biggest momxiety of all is that the manifestation of my momxieties will stunt my children's growth, limit experimentation with the world, and or cause them to deny their authentic selves.

Just thought I would share in case any other moms are harbouring any unspoken momxieties of their own.

Counting My Lucky Kids

2011-08-27T22:54:00.005-06:00

Things are good right now. Part of me knows that saying that is like a lightning rod for bad luck:

"I'll show you, over-confident parent! Now your children shall be struck by a pox, forget how to sleep, spit food back in your face, require no less than three hospital visits, forget everything they have learned, and pit you and your spouse against one another, all because you dared to speak of your contented state!" laughed the parenting gods mercilessly.

In spite of this, I feel the need to draw attention to it for a number of reasons. First, it might be fleeting, but writing it down will help me to remember how good parenting can be and that it will likely be this good or better again soon. Second, it can help me appreciate what I have and serve as a reminder not to whinge and moan when the little things don't go my way.

Nolan is quite possibly the happiest, most content child I have ever known. So long as his belly is full, he gets his rest, and the scenery changes every so often, he smiles and coos and laughs and is the definition of agreeable. He is strong and healthy and developing on time. I often feel the need to tell those without children that he is abnormal for fear that he will become that with which they measure the normalcy of their own children in the future.

Norah continues to amaze us. Her burgeoning personality is one that is kind, funny, analytical, empathetic, helpful, and creative. She aims to please the majority of the time. Her love for her little brother is palpable. She give spontaneous kisses and thankyous-- tonight she noticed me hug a non-family member for the first time. Her eyes lit up, "You give a big hug?" as if it was so affirming that adults show affection to their friends, too. She has had a long stretch of good health and eats better than I would expect of most toddlers.

This positive state leaves me reflecting-- What impact have I had? How did we get here? How can we stay this way? While there is no way of knowing for certain how much has been our parenting and how much is dumb luck and good timing, I would like to think that there are a few things we do well.

1. Even though they don't understand it, we always explain why. Why not to touch the knife, why we don't eat cookies for breakfast, why we can't go play with friends when we are cranky because we didn't nap... Although in the moment it seems a waste of breath, the next day or next week when Norah parrots the reason back to us in a similar context, we know she was listening.

2. We have expectations of behaviour that we communicate and practise regularly. In regards to tantrums, I once heard a child psychologist quip, "When a child is drowning, you don't try to teach them to swim, you save them. The lessons have to come when things are calm and there is no risk." We make Norah rehearse appropriate responses to hypothetical situations and praise her when she puts them into practice. Most recently, we taught her to say "Excuse me." when she wanted to interrupt an adult conversation or phone call. While she doesn't yet understand that she will not always get an immediate response or that the interrupted conversation will continue once her needs are met, she is excellent at knowing when "Excuse me" is the appropriate thing to say.

3. We make sleep a priority (ignore the fact that I am up writing this at 11:30). We have returned to holding Nolan for all his naps so that they last the two hours he needs. We try like the dickens to get Norah to nap on the weekends (though we are not always successful). We keep reasonable bedtimes and whenever possible, we let the kids sleep as late as they can. Fact is, they're different people when they don't get their sleep. We know enough about accumulating sleep-debt and its devastating effects on children's physical and mental well-being that we refuse to screw with it. It has meant sacrificing a lot of socializing and some personal freedom, but it is a non-negotiable in our house.

4. We offer a balanced diet. What sugar Norah does get is primarily from fruit and home baking. We do keep fruit-leather treats on hand and allow her to indulge in ice-cream a couple times a month, but we do our best to offer whole foods whenever possible.

5. We cut ourselves some slack. Today we had mac and cheese and chicken fingers for lunch. I didn't sweat it because last night, Norah ate two bowls of chickpea stew. Norah hasn't been enrolled in any formal activities since spring (and Nolan hasn't had a single swimming lesson or yoga session), but because it means we can have more leisurely weekends with less stress about getting places on time, we don't care. Norah got a little burn helping me make pancakes a couple weeks ago. Sure, I felt guilty as hell for a while, but when I think about her culinary skills and knowledge and her comfort in the kitchen, I'm amazed. There's no reward without risk.

6. We apologize when we screw up. Last night, C was watching my niece and nephew and so I was solo with the kids at bedtime, which for this rare occasion, happened to be the same for both of them. With a screaming baby in my arms, I told Norah the worst bedtime story in the history of bedtime stories, shut off the lights, and fled in the hopes of settling Nolan. I responded three times to Norah's cries, each with increasing impatience and anger (swaddled, screaming, 20 lb baby in arms), leaving her more distraught each time. Finally, on the fourth try, I went in and apologized, showering her with kisses and hugs (all while Nolan cried on the end of her bed), explaining why I acted the way I did (see #1), telling her what I needed her to do (see #2), and promising tomorrow night would be better. Sure enough, it did the trick. Tonight, I stayed with her for "six minutes" after her story ("Okay, Norah. I will lie here with you for five minutes." "No! Six minutes!") while we snuggled and she tickled my face. When it was time for me to go, she protested lightly, but after closing the door, I didn't hear another peep.

7. We find time (albeit not regularly enough) to hash things out as a couple. When we're out of patience, being curt, and taking things personally, we know it is time for some adult conversation. Whether it be in the car with two sleeping kids, or too late at night before we finally get some sleep, we make the time to talk. It isn't always easy, but we usually come out better than we started, and ready to start working as a team again.

I almost forgot 8. We are silly most of the time. Neither C nor I are afraid to make fools of ourselves. We engage in make believe multiple times a day and laugh at ourselves just as often. We are catalysts in Norah's imaginary worlds and do our best to show her that creativity comes before dignity.

Nothing here is original or any kind of secret, but it's what is working for us right now. What are your secrets to familial success?

Summer Summary

2011-08-05T21:16:00.007-06:00

I finally have time to sit and write and I am not even sure where to begin...

Nolan is four months old and twenty pounds strong. While I won't say that the last 1/3 of the year has been easy, I would say it has been a heck of a lot easier than we'd imagined. Nolan's disposition is sweet and calm and we've done our best to keep it that way by seeing to it that he gets his quota of sleep and milk. The milk part has been a breeze. My supply is second-to-none and has known how to latch since day one. Unfortunately, he refuses to take a bottle thus far and this has meant I have had to stay pretty close to home. With an out of town wedding fast approaching, we're really hoping this changes. While suckling is one of his favourite ways to soothe, he has no interest in a soother and, thus, has no coping mechanism with which to get himself to sleep. This has meant that virtually every nap has been spent in our arms. When you consider the fact that only recently have his naps dropped back to 1-2 hours from 2-4, that's a lot of time in the rocking chair and not a lot of time keeping house or socializing. For about a month now, he has been down to just 3 naps a day and has been able to stay awake for 2-3 hours between. When he is awake, he is content so long as the scenery doesn't stay the same too long. Changing things up has gotten a bit easier since he started accepting car-rides as a fact of life. If we time it just right, we can even get him to fall asleep in the vehicle now, although the car-naps have never lasted more than 40 minutes. Unfortunately, as often as our timing is on, it is off-- like almost every Sunday as we try to come home from my parents'. This results in 45 minutes of screaming. We do take a break at the half-way point to calm him, change his diaper, and feed him, before allowing the scream-fest to resume. It is difficult to believe that Norah screamed precisely that length of time prior to every nap and bedtime for the first three months of her life. I used to judge mothers who just couldn't bear to hear their child cry, even for a moment, as being too sensitive, but now I have learned that when your child never cries, it is difficult to endure it when they do. That said, having had Norah, we are lucky enough to know that a few good cries don't inevitably spell disaster for a child.

Speaking of Norah, I believe I have mentioned what a great big sister she is, but have I mentioned that she's potty trained? While we still have the odd premature squirt and we have to watch her like hawks when she is playing and hasn't pooped in a while (playing always wins over potty), we are done with diapers. We couldn't have done it without the help of daycare. Had she have been at home with Nolan and I, there is no way I would have been able to take her to the potty every 30 minutes, just in case, as they do at daycare, and we likely would have had two in diapers indefinitely.

Our lives would be very different right now were it not for keeping Norah in daycare. We had planned to keep her home part-time this summer, but as we looked at the list of projects we had started that needed to be finished, we knew that wasn't realistic. When we looked at the list of projects yet to be started, we made the decision that things needed to change. Our mantra became: Short term sacrifice for long term gain. Thus, the past month has been spent completing home renovations with Norah in care Monday-Friday. Our goal is to sell and move into a brand new home before the end of the year, making 2012 our first home-reno free year since we moved home four years ago. While there is part of me that feels a teensy bit guilty keeping her there full-time thus far, I'm fairly confident that the part of me that would have felt guilty for not being able to provide either of my children the full care and attention they deserve would have been greater. Yes. I realize that parents often deal with more than one child at a time and that children most often survive it, but I have seen first hand how balanced our lives are because Nolan gets undivided attention (and uninterrupted sleep) each day, Norah gets to burn off energy and socialize with the same frequency, and we have been able to keep evenings and weekends special so that no sibling resentment has built and they each get the best we have to offer.

And what does that best look like?

Walks (or trike rides) to the park to swing, slide, and climb. Turns out Norah is a very skilled climber in spite of the fact that she rarely does it spontaneously.

[Almost] Weekly trips to see Grandma and Papa and the cousins in the valley. While the landscaping is far from complete, the giant play structure (courtesy of my brother and Costco) and sand box bigger than my living room has made for some amazing outdoor play.

Visiting with our out of town friends and family who come our way. When it rains, it pours, and this summer, we have been lucky to be drenched by visitors!

Exploring the garden. It has been a learning experience for all of us, especially since we weren't the ones who planted it! Aunties N and K were kind enough to do it and we have had the pleasure of watching it grow! There are few things more heartwarming than having your toddler daughter eat peas she never would have had she not picked them herself or watch intently as you harvest lettuce to be eaten at that night's supper.

Making believe. Whether it is serving us tea and cake, warning us of spiders ready to attack, saving us from monsters only to become one herself, making us "sleep" and waking us up in perpetuity (rehearsing her rooster impression), requesting stories about giants and witches (which inevitably turn into didactic tales teaching social skills and other acceptable behaviours), playing hide-and-go-seek, painting nails, practicing her moves on her dance bar (read: the freezer drawer handle), or having a birthday party with her bears, imagination is not something Norah is short of.

Cooking and baking. Covert operations are the only way for me to cook solo in the kitchen these days. Regardless of how mundane the meal, Norah wants to help. She has the ingredients for pancakes memorized, loves helping me chop vegetables for stew, has a hard time keeping her hands out of the cookie-batter, rolls pizza dough like a pro, and has even flipped a pancake (with mom's help). While she has yet to learn about "sharp" first hand (like her dad), she did confirm the meaning of "hot" last weekend. Fortunately, it didn't leave a mark.

Meeting developmental milestones. Nolan gets to have some fun, too. He's a fan of tummy time and managed to roll from front to back five times in a row a few weeks ago, but hasn't repeated it since. We're working on sitting up, but since his legs are too thick for the Bumbo, this is easier said than done. We recently brought in the Jumperoo and the exersaucer, both of which he loves and will love more once he is steady and his gross motor skills improve. His voice is deep and raspy and he talks more than anyone else in our house. He is quick to show appreciation for our humour (funny sounds and the like) and slow to reach frustration. The sight of his sister thrills him to no end and today he discovered we have a cat. Michael was not so pleased about the discovery.

In a perfect world, this summary would be replaced with descriptive snapshots of priceless moments, but it has not been in the cards. Oh, well. I'll take near perfect kids to a perfect blog any day.

Encore!

2011-06-18T21:04:00.005-06:00

I truly believe the whole nurture/nature debate only exists among the childless/childfree. Once you have a child, it is hard not to realize just how little impact you have on their burgeoning personalities. Basically, as a parent, you have a choice, either to work with or work against what is innately there. It's like the weather. You can put up an umbrella and go puddle jumping when it rains or stand outside without a coat screaming at the clouds to stop while you get drenched. Either way, it is going to rain. Working with your child's natural tendencies can help you to enhance particular strengths, improve upon some weaknesses, and hopefully curb some less desirable traits. Working against those same tendencies can lead them to hide from their strengths, magnify their weaknesses, and bring out the worst in your child. But let's be clear-- the best and worst were there all along.

Every now and again, I am able to see how our parenting has shaped Norah. The day after a throw-down over something seemingly harmless, Norah will clearly repeat whatever it was that we had said to set her off the day before, "I have to share with my friends" or "No touch. It's hot!" and then follows the instructions without a fight. It just goes to show that the little buggers are always listening, even when they are screaming at the top of their lungs. It also goes to show that Norah truly does aim to please... only after she has tested the boundaries.

Above all else, the way we have most affected Norah is by being an appreciative audience. Whenever she does something even remotely funny (purposeful or not), we bust a gut or join in the fun. We tell her how funny she is (to which she responds, "No YOU'RE funny!") and often explain exactly what made us laugh (so that she can apply it in other contexts). We ask her to repeat her actions or words for the other parent if they happened to be out of the room when she did something amazing. This has definitely worked to bring out the performer in her. Some kids couldn't care less if anyone was watching or what they thought, but Norah loves to perform for those with whom she is comfortable. For the most part, this is awesome, but with the good comes the bad.

Norah loves to fake cry. In fact, she will say, out of the blue, "I want to cry." and then start wailing. More than once, we have caught her in the mirror contorting her face to and fro, and adjusting the volume, pitch, and duration of her ululations. Her crocodile tears can be quite convincing and often lure us to her bedroom at night only to be met by tickles and giggles. When she enters one of her mock fits, we often say, "Norah, if you want to cry, you can, but you must go do it in your room." and off she will toddle, throwing herself on her bed or her floor for effect and the wailing will continue until she is satisfied that no one is listening any longer.

As annoying as it can be, it is difficult for me to fault her this. Though I do not remember what I was like when I was two, I do remember my childhood, spent in front of a mirror trying on emotions, rehearsing conversations, and studying my own features. By trying on different emotions and personas in the comfort and privacy of my room, I was able to discover which me I wanted to be. It was cathartic. And in a way, I am pleased that, at least for now, she trusts us enough to be an audience for her self-discovery.

Curious Norah

2011-05-08T11:09:00.003-06:00

Every so often, a change organically alters Norah's bedtime routine-- a new fondness for a particular book or stuffed animal or boredom with old habits or new-found necessity on our parts. For quite a while now, we have done our best to establish C as the primary facilitator of the routine. We began this in anticipation of Nolan's arrival. Some nights it was better received than others.

Recently, Norah has taken a liking to her Curious George anthology. The new routine has become that she gets three George stories before bed. Now, being teachers, we rarely actually read the stories. We use the pictures to summarize the events and give opportunities for Norah to identify images, make inferences, and add her own ideas. C is a master of framing sentences so that Norah will fill in the blanks. Listening to them at night is hilarious. I will hear the consistent melody of Chris's voice punctuated by an emphatic, "OH NO!" or an excited, "Chocolate!" or a convincing, "Ooh-ooh-ah-ah!" or a somber, "George is sad."

One night, she was adamant that she wanted one more and so C promised her that if she climbed into bed and he turned out the lights, he would tell her a story about Norah and George. Thus a tradition was born. The Adventures of Curious George and Norah follow a pretty traditional arc-- exposition, conflict, rising action, resolution. No doubt Chris's expertise at these tales is informed by his background in improvisation. Again, the most special part about it is Norah's participation. With his leads, she is able to choose other characters, raise the stakes, and find solutions to the problems. I give my kid a lot of credit, but sometimes it surprises even me the things she is able to come up with.

Clearly, this time is special to Norah, too. I can't remember the last time we had to fight to get her to go to her room, especially since bedtime became synonymous with story time.

The past couple nights, Norah has asked for me to put her to bed. I do fine with the book, but when it comes time for her customized tales, mine pale in comparison to her Dad's, and I think she knows it, but she is too kind to say.

Mother's Day (The Third)

2011-05-08T11:08:00.002-06:00

This year, I decided to let C off the hook a little. A few weeks prior to the day, I spotted a Groupon for a maid service and requested it as my gift. When the actual day rolled around, C and Norah made me breakfast while I snuggled with Nolan. It was the perfect, low-key day I was looking for.

Now, I just have to decide what I want the maids to do in their 90 minutes of service. Suggestions? I'm thinking a good floor washing. It's been a while...

False Alarm

2011-04-25T14:39:00.003-06:00

Phew. While our boy may sometimes be a little difficult to get to sleep deeply at night, he certainly does not share his sister's infant sleep habits. In fact, while he has the odd nap that lasts only 90 minutes, the vast majority of his sleeps (day and night) range from 3-5 hours (sometimes we even get 6!) for a total of 17-18 hours a day. I've continued to give him probiotics and since Saturday, I have been pumping prior to feeding in order to slow down my flow and hopefully avoid painful gas. It seems to be working!

Now, if only I could resist the temptation to "get stuff done" and actually nap with him so I didn't feel like a total zombie most of the day. I'd start drinking coffee again, but I don't want to tempt fate and risk screwing up his sleep.

Speaking of, perhaps I'll go try that now!

Here We Go Again?

2011-04-23T10:39:00.002-06:00

The past three nights, Nolan has had gas and reflux that have made it very difficult for him to get to sleep and stay asleep. Lying down hasn't been much of an option, though we keep trying. Last night, after much screaming, we got him down to sleep around 11:30. For the next two hours, he woke every 10-20 minutes yelping in pain. Finally, he fell asleep deeply enough to be put down (though C didn't dare until 3 a.m.). C and I both woke at 6:30, flabbergasted that the kid hadn't eaten since 11:00. Nolan woke shortly there after, fed, and went back to sleep. He slept for another four hours in an elevated position on the couch. He had a waking period of 90 minutes and then went back to sleep for three and a half hours. At 4:00, he was up again and stayed up. At 90 minutes, he was sleepy, but very difficult to get to sleep. C could feel him regurgitating his last meal and squirming with gas. Although I am super thankful for his incredibly long sleeps, I am anxious about how tonight will look after the last three. Deja vu does not even begin to describe sitting in a darkened living room, bouncing on a yoga ball, back aching, wondering if it has been long enough to be able to put our baby down without him waking-up and wigging-out.

We tried a homeopathic remedy for gas with no luck. Today, I visited five different pharmacies and health-food stores looking for infant probiotics. I finally found them. My hope is that it was the antibiotics he was on that have caused him such digestive distress and that once he gets his good gut-bugs back, he will be fine. My heart sank when I read that it takes three to four days for it to work. Still, I live in hope-- hope that we are not in for another infancy like Norah's. I love the kid, but that was a ridiculous time in our lives-- one I hope not to repeat.

Big Sister

2011-04-20T12:15:00.002-06:00

We spent a lot of time preparing Norah to become a big sister. Daily, we discussed the baby in mom's tummy and the fact that one day it would stop hiding and come to live with us. We read the book I'm a Big Sister ad nauseum, projecting our family into the book in spite of the fact that we look little like them, and used its language and phrasing whenever we talked about the baby: "Will your little brother eat ice cream? Remember: Babies are so little. Too little to talk, too little to walk, and too little to eat apples or pizza or ice cream." We praised her equally often for anything and everything that made her a big girl. We encouraged her to help with any activity we could and then when she was done helping reinforced that, "You're going to be such a great big sister because you're so good at helping." We got her sleeping in her big girl bed, though we avoided the issue of potty training because we feared regression once the baby did come.

Since Nolan arrived, we have done our best to include her in his life. She passes us wipes for diaper changes, carries diapers to the garbage, she picks which blanket to wrap him with, we show her the boogers we retrieve from his nose with the syringe (she LOVES boogers), we prompt her to kiss him, hug him, and hold his hand, and we discuss future plans-- like how she will teach him to do certain things as they grow.

So far, it has worked. I mean, I can't take credit for her natural helping disposition. Norah loved baby dolls long before she knew I was pregnant. That said, she wasn't overly shell-shocked when he arrived. When we ask her to help she yells, "OKAY!" and runs to the task. She kisses him every chance she gets and talks about him fondly. She's quite protective and showed this best at his two week check-up when she cried because the doctor was holding "her baby."

All this said, she's not perfect. Quiet is not a concept she understands for more than 10 seconds at a time. Gentle is a concept we've been working on since birth when it comes to the cat-- fortunately she seems to show slightly more restraint with Nolan. And when her mind is set on something and our desires contradict it, she will dig in her heals in defiance until we find a suitable distraction or bribe. She does get slightly annoyed when I can't be the one to help her because Nolan is feeding or sleeping. The worst part of all is the fact that we didn't bother to remove the rocking chair from her room before his arrival and now she won't even let us sit in it, let alone take it from her room. Yoga ball it is.

We're doing our best to still give her the individual time and attention she needs. In the morning, she always calls for me and so long as Nolan isn't feeding, I go to her and climb into her bed with her for a morning snuggle before we start getting ready for daycare. Chris has taken her out riding on her trike (a new hand-me-down from the cousins) and running through puddles. She helps me cook in the kitchen. We play hide and seek and Chris gives airplane rides and does tricks with her when she's in the mood. We try to have playdates and outings on the weekends, along with her swimming lessons, so that she doesn't get bored. People have been great about bringing big sister gifts along with their baby gifts, which has helped make him seem more like a bonus than a bummer.

Lately, she has been growing and changing in all kinds of ways. I'm not sure why it surprises me-- I guess I expected her to stall while Nolan took his turn-- but she amazes me daily. Her speech is incredible. Full sentences tell stories from daycare and very clearly express her desires, "I don't want it!" "Mommy! Go away from my room!" "No baby in rocking chair!" "I like muffins." "So-and-so hit me back." Her love of the outdoors has been reignited by spring's (false) start. But best of all is that last week, daycare informed us that she has been peeing on the potty. Not sure when they started, but they take the kids every half-hour even just to get them to sit. This weekend, Chris tried inviting her to do the same at home and was successful! Now every morning, she wakes with a dry (or virtually dry) diaper and pees in the potty before daycare. This has eliminated her over-filling her first diaper of the morning and needing two pairs of pants each day. When she gets home, she will use it once or twice before heading off to bed. We have yet to have a successful number-two, but considering the fact that we have put zero effort into this endeavor, we couldn't be happier at her progress. High fives and fist bumps let her know how proud we are and that she should be proud, too. I'm not letting my hopes get too high, because there's still a lifetime for her to reject him and resent us, but I am thankful for the smooth transition we've had so far.

Birth Story: The Hospital Stay

2011-04-15T17:15:00.008-06:00

So as I mentioned, the new rooms in Mother Baby are lovely, though they lack a few practical upgrades that would have made them so much better. The lack of fridge was a huge one, especially considering the "cuisine" I was served (more on that later). There is very little counter space and so the cleaning staff swept around my suitcase, cooler, and other items that we had to keep on the floor. Had I not have been pushed on the bed to my room, I'm not certain we ever would have found it as the room numbers are very illogically assigned (I know! How do you screw up numerical order?!), which the nurses confirmed. Apparently, in the beginning the lab folks were actually unable to find a few patients because of the new system, and when the nurses inquired as to whether or not the numbers could be changed, they were told, "No."

I went in expecting a bit of an extended stay because of the c-section. In the first 24 hours, I was not allowed to be alone with Nolan as I was still on morphine, hadn't yet walked, and had an i.v. and catheter. The nurses only had to take him to the special care nursery once when Chris had to leave, and that was one of the hardest times in my stay. On day two, they mentioned that I might be able to go home on day three (which is actually day four because the first day is day zero). I was ambivalent about this. While I didn't mind being in there and the help I received from the nurses, it was inconveniencing my mother who was staying with Norah and Big N was out of sorts because her mom and dad were gone (C stayed overnight with me every night).

To try to ease her mind, C eventually started picking her up from daycare, taking her home, eating supper with her and my mom, putting her to bed, and then returning to the hospital to "sleep." One morning, he left at 4:30 a.m. to return home before she woke only to discover my mother in bed with her, trying to calm her down and get her back to sleep (his cover was totally blown). He spelled my mom off and spent the rest of the "night" in her twin bed with toddler legs and arms flailing.

On Friday, the bilirubin test showed Nolan was becoming jaundiced. They brought in the lamp in the hopes that we would be able to hold off a spike. While we did a good job of keeping it somewhat stable, and my (amazing) doctor was willing to let me go home, we decided to play it safe. It's a good thing we did. Nolan spent the next two and a half days under the lamp. Each day, my doctor came in, incredibly apologetic, telling me that I would have to stay just one more day. Again, like in the operating room, I gave myself about 30 seconds of self-pity (well, more pity for Norah, to be honest) and then reminded myself that this was all in Nolan's best interests.

Because of the length of my stay, I met many nurses, and as with any profession, there was a bell-curve of quality. Some clearly didn't read my chart to know that I was not a first time mom. Some gave me way to much credit for being a second time mom. Some made me feel like I was a nuisance. Some made me feel comfortable asking for help and didn't press when I didn't want any more. Some chatted with me like an old friend. With some, we each played 20 questions like we were on a first date (Where are you from? Do you enjoy your work?). One or two managed to make me feel like the only patient on the whole ward. They were lovely.

To keep myself busy, I read plenty of magazines (a gift from another friend), finished up this month's book club book (The Glass Castle. So good.), and napped when I could. This was surprisingly difficult in a private room. I felt like this time around there were far more interruptions than last, though that has more to do with expectations than with reality. This time, the nurses were in every hour and a half to two hours. Three meals and three snacks between 9:00 and 7:00 meant that food was being delivered at about the same pace. The laundry service and room cleanings were in and out in the mornings. Residents would check on me. My surgeon paid a visit. Nolan's doctor came to see him. There were lab tests (Nolan's poor feet!). And then there were the two days that there was some sort of construction happening on the hallway wall of my room for two hours. A "private" room never felt more public. Last time, I was in a shared room and had zero expectation of privacy. Plus, we were able to have visitors and so there was a constant flow of hospital personnel and friends and family. This time, our visitors were limited. Only your support person, doula, baby's sibling(s), and grandparents of the baby were allowed in. This limited our visitors to my parents. I questioned this policy with the nurse after Chris overheard a young couple on the free phone in the sitting area telling someone they tried to get them in but couldn't and had no idea what was going on or why they had to stay another day. I thought about the more vulnerable mothers who may be estranged from their parents, whose parents may live out of town, whose aunties or uncles may have raised them, who only had friends and no family in the city. It seemed ludicrous to me that they could draw such an arbitrary line in the sand. Don't get me wrong. I quite enjoyed knowing when and who would be showing up in my room and that I didn't have to say "no" to people when I wasn't up for it. I just think that telling a mother-- you can have 4 people on your list, who are they and what is their relation? is a better strategy.

Norah came up to visit me and while she was shy (heartbreaking) and weirded-out at first, she came to enjoy giving me rides on the bed pushing the triangles, kissing her baby brother, telling us about her day at daycare, and playing in the common area. She even went for her first sleep-over at my mom and dad's as my mom had business she needed to attend to at home. I was so proud of her for sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, but nearly died when my mom told me that reading stories before bed, she asked where every character's mommy and daddy were. *tear*

The woman I hired to do my placenta encapsulation arrived Thursday around lunch and returned the next morning with my pills. Turns out I had a giant placenta because where most women only get one jar, I got a jar and a half. They look like oregano in a pill, which has made it incredibly easy to take. I took my first dose, and my milk came in with gusto. Nolan was a latching pro right from the get-go. This, combined with his wizened gazes, the fact that he calms the second we pick him up and is incredibly patient (though not indefinitely) for what he needs, has made us consider the fact that perhaps this isn't his first go-round at life. Everyone keeps suggesting that it is our experienced energy, not his, that is causing these things, but I'll tell you, when he cluster fed on night one and we did not sleep (and the nurses rightly insisted we wake him to feed every 2 hours the next day so that we could get his bilirubin down), I did not fee like a pro, nor did I feel calm. In spite of this, he settled right back into his little routine the next day.

So I mentioned I would talk about the food... if I can even call it that. Not sure if it is my perception, the length of this stay, or reality that has me believing the quality has dropped since my last stay, but here are a few examples of meals and snacks I received (repeatedly):

One piece of dry toast under the plate cover, with coffee, apple juice, and jam.

A snack with a note about fibre that included a white flour muffin, a piece of cheese, and a pudding.

A snack with a note about the importance of the four food groups that included an orange and a cup of orange juice.

Another snack with the same note about the four food groups that included cheese whiz and breadsticks.

The fact that nutrition is clearly viewed as mutually exclusive to the healing process is so beyond me. My father, a diabetic whose kidney was just removed (cancer) was served salty soups, sugary beverages, and simple carbohydrates during his entire stay, even after multiple requests for them to meet his dietary needs. Ridiculous. Needless to say, the cooler filled with banana muffins, fresh fruit, cranberry juice, lactation cookies, yogurt, cheese, and other goodies that my friend made up for me is among the best gifts I have ever received. I am also thankful for the unlimited access to bread, a toaster, and peanut-butter.

On the sixth day, we were finally released. We had a few hours at home to get settled before C had to go pick up Norah. Since then, things have gone relatively smoothly-- well accept for the various plagues we have endured, but more on that later.

I realize there was quite a lot of criticism in this post, but the fact is, I feel very fortunate that the care we required to keep us both healthy was readily available. There was no question of the number of days that would be covered or my ability to pay for services. The fact that these kinds of things are all I have to complain about is actually quite a good thing.

We Still Got It

2011-04-14T14:59:00.003-06:00

I'm not certain how detrimental it is going to be if I continue comparing everything to pregnancy/labour/early parenthood with Norah, but I can't seem to help it.

When we had Norah, we lost our funny for a long time. A really long time. I keep watching for signs of it happening again, but so far, I think we're in the clear.

Today's proof (via email correspondence):

C: Our power bill was $13.38 and water was $68.44 for April...

B: Water is $19 more than expected. I'm cutting your weekday showers.

C: Fair enough. I think $75 is probably more accurate...cause $68 is without watering the lawn...

B:Then why when I was toiling over our budget did you say $50? Now, you only get to bathe when we water the lawn... in the sprinkler. Hope you scrubbed well this morning.

C: Water rates went up...sorry! Can I use Norah's bath water after she is done?

B: I suppose it's up to you what you want to do with it, but it's also your ration for drinking...

C: I guess I have to collect rainwater...in a rusty tin cup...and then boil it...hmmm...

B: You better hold off on that plan until I see the gas bill.

[Finally] Our Birth Story

2011-04-13T20:33:00.010-06:00

Last night, Chris sat at the computer, with our new addition in his arms, rereading posts from when Norah was new. It was the kick in the pants I needed to sit down and start back at it again. Admittedly, finding time to blog with two is a lot harder than it was with one (and we all know how great I was at finding time as that one grew!). That said, I was warned prior to our little man's arrival that I had better pay as much attention in writing as well as in photos and film to our new addition as I did to Norah.

We all know the best place to begin...

As with Norah, I booked my labour into our shared Google calendar, except this time I booked it a few days early, on my 30th birthday, hoping to have a distraction from the fact that I was turning 30 and there would be no shindig or celebration and the fact that just breathing was like boot-camp. I went in for a check-up and my doctor was slightly surprised when he offered to sweep my membranes and I accepted. He said that if it worked I would see him Wednesday in the hospital. I was hoping it would work sooner.

Braxton Hicks began late in the evening and I was hopeful, but unlike with Norah, it didn't amount to anything other than a sleepless night spent wondering whether or not we should go to the hospital. By 6:30 in the morning, they had stopped all together and Chris was heading off to work quite sleep deprived. Both of us hoped I would have to call him home early. No such luck.

Tuesday night, my mom stayed over because I wasn't feeling quite right. More practice labour, though I dreamed through these contractions, and no baby. Mom and Chris went to work and I stayed home, trying to adjust my expectations so I didn't go crazy.

Wednesday night, my practice labour started earlier than it had the previous nights-- around 8:00. The contractions were random and easy to handle. I went to bed more concerned about another sleepless, fruitless night than about anything else. At 4:05, I woke, I believe at the completion of a contraction. I rubbed the top of my belly and felt a corresponding bulging at the escape hatch. Curious, I pressed a little bit harder (still gentle, though), and POP-- my waters released. Fortunately, we had a towel under the sheets for such an occasion. I immediately woke Chris and instructed him to call our doula on his cell while I reached for the phone without rising to call my sister-in-law to come stay until morning. I realize that waters releasing is not always cause for immediate concern, but my doctor had given me strict instruction that if I had contractions and my water broke, that I was to head to the hospital immediately ("without showering!") if I didn't want to have a home birth.

After making our respective phone calls, I sent Chris for towel reinforcements, knowing that the change in position would make for more waterworks. With my terri-cloth sumo-diaper, I waddled to the bathroom. When I was able to drop the towel, it became immediately evident to both Chris and I that not just my waters had broken. I will spare you the details, but I will tell you that Norah's placental abruption had nothing on this. It was the kind of image they would cut to on a medical drama to make you turn your head and cringe. As with my first labour, I sat on the toilet and ordered Chris around. Unlike the first, Chris had seen the damage, but he did a good job remaining calm.

Chris called our friend, Ryan (who lives just a few blocks away) to come in the mean time in case we had to leave before my sister-in-law arrived. He loaded the car and brought me clothes. I cleaned up as best I could, insisting C pack the gore in a plastic bag an bring it with us so they could understand the extent of my abruption (with Norah, I had down played the extent of the bleeding and the nurses were shocked when they finally checked me). My sister-in-law arrived just as we were pulling out of the driveway. I gave her some brief instructions and we were on our way.

Emergency was empty when we arrived at 4:30. I checked in and we made our way through the maze up to the new Labour and Delivery Unit. The two nurses at the station looked up when I entered and I said something to the effect of, "Hi! I'm in labour. It may not look like much, but my waters broke and I'm having a placental abruption so I thought it best to come in right away." They escorted me to triage before questioning my self diagnosis.

Nurse: Can I ask how you know you're having a placental abruption?
Me: (gestures to plastic bag with towel inside)
Nurse: Okay...
Chris: She also had one with our daughter.
Me: Right. Yes. I've had one before.
Nurse: That makes more sense.

It was unusually quiet on the ward, so both nurses attended to me. The attention I received was very different this time around. The questions came quickly as I changed into a gown and climbed onto the bed. They prepped me for an I.V. and under normal circumstances I would have protested, but their reactions made it clear this was not a normal circumstance. The nurses remained cheery, but their speed, constant chatter, and frequent references to being
"proactive" let me know that things weren't going very well.

The resident arrived quickly and began the second round of questions-- half of which I had already been asked and the other half were completely irrelevant. Clearly this was her first time dealing with such a situation. Her demeanor was abrupt, but I remained positive. The OBGYN who was on call arrived shortly after. In contrast to the resident, he was very warm and clearly concerned. The team first decided just to notify my doctor of the situation, but after checking the fetal heart-rate again, they called him back and told him to come in immediately. He arrived within 10 minutes. They took blood and continued to monitor the baby. I was denied the ice-chips I had been so looking forward to and that also confirmed the direction my labour was headed.

When they checked me initially, they thought I was 5-6 cm. This made me hopeful. It had taken me over 12 hours to get to that point with Norah. They rolled me to an actual labour and delivery room, which was another good sign. Even though I was hopeful, I made it very clear to my doctor that my priority was a healthy baby and that I trusted him to make the decision of how to proceed. I knew he took my birth plan seriously and that he wouldn't jump the gun.

The room was filled with people at this point-- I can't even remember what they all were there for. A couple of them suggested an epidural to be "proactive." My doctor simply said no at first, but when the resident became more insistent, he produced a concise, firm response detailing how illogical a step that would be, putting her in her place. I don't think I heard anything else from her for the rest of my stay, though I can't be sure.

My fragmented memory is likely due to the fact that I was using self-hypnosis to get through each contraction. We seemed to be settling in. Chris and my doctor sat down beside my bed-- the doctor kicking up his feet and joking about a nap-- and so I grabbed my ipod to head into deeper relaxation. I reached for C's hand with each contraction, riding them like waves and resting between.

After five contractions or so, the energy in the room changed. The baby's heart-rate, which had been dropping with every contraction, was now taking a full three minutes to recover and my contractions were getting closer. My doctor made one last attempt to help me have a vaginal birth. He figured if I was almost fully dilated that I might be able to make it, but when he checked me he put me at 4-5 cm. "It's time to go," they told me.

The OBGYN came over, looked me in the eye and said, "I'm so sorry. I know this is not what you wanted." His sincerity was so comforting. He told me I would be unconscious for the birth and this was the only moment during the whole process that I protested. The OB conceded and told me that they would do their best to get me a spinal but that if things went south too quickly they would have to put me out.

A second move took me to the operating room. The anesthesiologist arrived and got the spinal in right away. It would take four minutes to work and in the mean time, they prepped me. Chris arrived once I was ready to go. As he sat down, I saw the concern in his eyes and gave myself permission to feel sorry for myself. We both shed a couple tears-- out of fear and out of mourning for the birth we had imagined. Without discussing it, we both realized the moment had come and passed and now it was time to suck it up and focus on our baby's birth. The anesthesiologist grabbed us tissue and then gently talked us through the whole procedure. I expected there to be some level of pain or discomfort, but he must have done his job well because other than movement, I felt nothing. Within minutes, my baby boy (confirmed by the anesthesiologist, "It's a boy!") was brought into the world. Chris went to him and I laid, behind the sheet, smiling like an idiot as I heard the nurses describe his chubby cheeks. Chris announced, "He's huge!" to which I replied, "You said that about Norah, too." "And she was!" he rebutted. The 9 lbs 7 oz on the scale confirmed it. The 22" on the measuring tape also confirmed why his in-utero activity had been so draining on me.

Chris left with our boy so he could be checked out by the NICU nurses (as is the case with all emergency c-section babies). I rested my eyes while they sewed me up. The smile didn't leave my face.

They brought me to recovery and gave me the necessary i.d. bracelet so that Chris could be given his and the baby could be released to him. My doula arrived-- phone trouble had stopped the message from getting through. While I was telling her our story, Chris and our boy showed up.

"So, are we going with Nolan?" The name had been my first choice. I'm not sure if Chris had come around to it or was conceding to my desire, but it didn't matter. "I think we should." I replied. We made our requisite phone calls to announce Nolan's arrival.

We asked the nurse (and the two nursing students) to check on the whereabouts of my placenta as we had decided to encapsulate. After questioning our intentions, they stepped out to see what they could do. Chris also stepped out and overheard the nurse skeptically discussing our decision with the students and so Chris stepped in to "inform"them of the benefits to counteract her uninformed rant.

After retrieving my placenta, we were released to Mother Baby. The new, private room, was spacious and bright. I am a little confused as to why there are fridges in the labour and delivery rooms but not in this unit. Fortunately, my dear friend packed us a cooler full of delicious, nutritious goodies to help me through my stay, which C picked up when he ran home to shower and get things together at the house.

There's a lot more to share about our stay at the hospital, but I'm running out of steam. I'll pick up where I left off, soon.

Practice Makes Perfect

2011-03-23T20:53:00.003-06:00

So far, our boy's story has had a few false starts. I thought I better write them down so that they don't get lost (especially if they turn out to be somehow indicative of his personality-- then I can say things like, "Well I'm not surprised you have writer's block again; you have ALWAYS had a difficult time getting started!").

A few weeks ago, my mother-in-law had a dream that we named our baby boy Patrick. This didn't mean a lot to me until St. Patrick's day rolled around. I convinced myself this would be my boy's day. I performed many labour-inducing rituals in the hopes that it would be but came up short at the end of the night.

Oh. He must be waiting for my birthday. I figured it would be a nice way to take my mind off of turning the big 3-0. So, Monday I went to see the doctor and he knew by the expression on my face that I had had about enough. The week before, I had the flu and was still recovering. I was exhausted and anxious to meet our boy. The dr. offered to check me and was surprised at how readily I acquiesced (with Norah, I was much more cautious). I was 2 cm and 50% effaced. He asked if I wanted him to sweep my membranes. Again, he was clearly surprised at how quickly I agreed. He informed me the baby would likely come Wednesday, if it worked. He also reminded me that "it is going to be quick" once the baby does decide to come. That hasn't really helped my anxiety about the false starts...

Tuesday, at 3:05, I awoke to a strong contraction. It repeated at 3:18 and 3:41. Because they were so regular, I woke Chris. We got out of bed and started to make sure that everything was in order. We held off calling my sister-in-law (to come babysit Norah) and the doula just in case it was just practice labour. Good thing, because I got in the bath at 5:45 to try to alleviate the tension headache I'd had for the past two days and the contractions disappeared. I sent C off to work, but was convinced I'd be calling him back any minute. Boy was I wrong. And disappointed about it.

Tuesday night, I convinced my mom to come stay at our place because surely things would pick up again. After all, I had EVERY SINGLE SYMPTOM of going into labour (except for the water breaking and the contractions). I fell asleep just after midnight and was half-woken by the awareness of at least half-a-dozen contractions that were far more intense than the night before. I was able to return to sleep between each one and again, by morning, they had all but disappeared.

I drove my mom to work and then proceeded to the mall to try and walk the baby out. I thought that surely the potential for a public water show would egg him on, but no such luck. I returned home and did laundry, taking the stairs two at a time between each load. I had a few Braxton Hicks here and there, but nothing of note. I told mom to go home for the night, again hoping that the prospect of having to wake some unsuspecting soul in the middle of the night to come watch Norah would be enough to inspire him.

Presently it is 9:00. I've had a few strong surges, but they are completely sporadic. C just got home with the Chinese food I requested. Here's hoping the boy's just been waiting for a ginger-beef fix before departing.

Zen Mama

2011-02-22T17:34:00.005-06:00

If you want to know where this is all coming from, read this post. What follows is not nearly as hilarious, so please don't judge me.

Lately, I've been reflecting a lot on myself as an early parent-- on the decisions I made, why I made them, what I would have done differently... After all, if I'm doing this again, I would like to go in with a bit more wisdom on my side.

One motif that appeared time and time again, and has continued to rear its ugly head in my life as a parentis Judgment. I approached judgment-- received and given, perceived and actual-- in a variety of ways but all beginning with the premise that it is bad and it should not happen. I should not be judgmental. "They" should not be judgmental. You should not be judgmental. Oh, wait. Was that a judgment?

Lately, I have been trying on a different paradigm.

Judgment is necessary.

We must judge, for the safety and well being of our families as well as for our own happiness. It is true, we as mothers are asked to make far too many judgments in a day, but that is the price we pay for the freedom of choice. It would be much easier if there were only one way to diaper, one way to feed, and one way to discipline. But instead of being frustrated with myself, an entity I can control and change, when I did not like the outcome of my decisions, I would be stuck aiming my frustrations at a world over which I have no control. I'll choose choice and subsequent judgment over forced decisions and the absence of judgment any day.

Judgment is not going anywhere and it itself is not the problem, but rather how I choose to deal with it is.

Now don't get me wrong. I am in no way trying to "blame the victim" here. Rather, I am simply trying to acknowledge a fact. I would love to live in a world where we all were able to parent and let parent, but we don't. While we can continue to work toward such a vision, in the mean time, the only person I can control is me. I can do my best to choose my own words carefully so as not to impose my judgments on others, though there are never any guarantees and in the end I cannot control how someone else perceives my words or actions. I can require that those with whom I surround myself treat me, my opinions, and my actions with respect, but I cannot require that they agree with me. I can listen to others who disagree with me and take their opinions into consideration, but choose not to let their opinions make or break my day or shatter my image of myself as a parent. When someone is disrespectful with their judgments, I can choose to stop reading, walk away, or end the conversation. I cannot, however, create an internet that only supports my perspective, nor should I willfully put myself in situations where I know others will push my buttons and expect it to go smoothly, nor instigate such conversations with others who I know to be sensitive about certain issues.

There is no expert who can support my decisions for which there is not another expert who will contradict those same decisions.

Lining up a panel of "objective experts" to support my decisions to the public will not make me any more or less right in anyone else's context. A positivist view of parenting is a fallacy. No study of a given technique provides 100% results in all contexts. Sure, "breast is best." If you CAN breast feed. And what "can" means for me, may mean something different for someone else. We all have strengths, weaknesses, physical abilities and limitations, and priorities. Being "able" to do something means an alignment of a lot of factors, not just pure will.

Further to this, if I am going to share information I have learned, it should be with the purpose to inform, not to persuade. It is not my job to convince other parents that they should do things like I do. The level of "evidence" that I require to make decisions may not be the same as another parent's and that's their business, not mine. And in the end, if I do feel my eyebrows raising while listening to a story about so-and-so's sister-in-law's neglectful hair stylist, I need to put them back down and remember there is no way to have the whole story, and even if I could, it's none of my business.

I should seek to be informed, not to be "right."

There is no "best practice" in parenting that works for everyone. We (my husband and I) alone can make decisions for our family. We might make mistakes, but the consequences are ours to suffer. Bring on the information, but I know that regardless of how hard I try and how many angles I consider, I am going to make mistakes. Big whoop. My kids will learn that I am imperfect. Let's hope they also learn that I will keep trying to do better.

When others make judgments about what is best for their families that contradict the decisions I have made for my family, it is not an implicit criticism of what I have chosen to do.

Similarly, my decisions are not implicit criticisms or supports of what others do. If they choose to take it that way, I cannot change that. I do not have to silence myself (though I may choose to if the mood strikes me) or pretend to feel differently than I do in order to protect another parent's self-esteem. I just have to give them the same respect I expect.

No one parenting decision makes or breaks a child.

There is no one factor that determines a child's success or failure in life. The "product" we turn out at the end of this lifelong process is the result of genetics, our care, the environment (both natural and social), and a whole host of other crap we can't control. Pretending that we can guarantee our child's success by choosing the right foods, taking away the soother at the right time, sleep training or co-sleeping, deciding to work or to stay home, having a nanny or a daycare, living close to family or far away, immunizing or not, feeding them hotdogs or promoting vegetarianism, home schooling or public school is a trick we play on ourselves. Driving ourselves crazy with guilt and fixating on each of these individual decisions as if they alone are the key to health and happiness is far more detrimental than productive. Yes. We still need to make sound judgments, but we also have to acknowledge that factors we cannot control may derail our little plan at any time. Regardless of your efforts, your child could turn to smoking, drugs, or alcohol as a young adult, get pregnant themselves or impregnate someone else long before they are ready, or choose to couch surf rather than live under your roof and subsequently flush their futures down the tubes-- and being a neurotic parent is likely the number one cause of any of these outcomes! (I'm being a little facetious here, folks)

And though no one wants to think about it, our children could be stolen from us by an accident or a terminal illness at any time. Instead of going berserk trying to manage every moment of their lives, we need to be able to relax enough to enjoy them while we are lucky enough to have them. We need to balance our decision making processes with our own personal sanity and what that balance looks like will vary from person to person.

So while someone may judge me because I did or didn't do something they think is critical, I could turn around and do the same for a decision to which they gave less credence. It's ridiculous when you stop to think about it.

So long as I seek external validation, I will never be satisfied.

I am not going to wait for the world to give me a thumbs up before being confident in my decisions. So long as I seek help when I need it and be willing to admit when I have made a mistake, I will hold my head high as a parent. I will trust myself. And I will forgive myself for being human.

This is my first time really working through this paradigm shift, and though it is almost certain I have missed something or failed to consider some aspect, I'm liking how freeing it is to put it in writing. It will be interesting to see if I can still be so zen in 5 weeks or so....

Pregnancy Post (not Post Pregnancy)

2011-02-11T20:42:00.003-06:00

34 weeks. It seems ridiculous to write it, because it puts into perspective my whinging as of late, "Six and a half more weeks? How will I make it?" Likely the same way I made the last 34-- usually too busy to notice time flying by.

I thought I'd better characterize this pregnancy before sleep deprivation and wacky hormone levels cause me to forget and trick myself into thinking I should do it again.

In the beginning, this pregnancy was identical to Norah's. The nausea. The fatigue. The breathlessness. The one way I thought it would be different was that I thought I would notice those first flutters of tiny limbs much sooner. When I didn't, I was a little scared. At my 20 week ultrasound, the tech revealed that my placenta is way up front, thus cushioning the blows. This made me feel better, but also lulled me into the false belief that I might not have to endure the same belly contortions as I did with my girl. A few weeks later, I learned just how wrong I was.

Our baby boy has been rocking his uterine cradle ever since. I knew things were different when this one started kicking inward, pummeling my organs and trying to knock out my vertebrae. That was a new experience. Then the gymnastics routines began. Dive rolls, cartwheels, and complex tumbling combinations caused my stomach to contort in some pretty grotesque ways. Some days, I wouldn't be surprised if my belly did a lap around my back and back to its starting position. Consequently, it has been keeping me up at night.

Distracted by all the circus tricks, I failed to be thankful for the lack of hiccups. Norah hiccuped before she kicked and it often went on for hours at a time, each day. I had forgotten just how annoying it was until a couple weeks ago when this one figured he was missing out and began the rhythmic convulsions. Oy.

All this movement kept my meals hanging out at the top of my throat. I went through four prescriptions of Diclectin (anti-nausea medication) before I finally gave it up last week. I still dry-heave periodically, but at least the fatigue caused by the cure has subsided.

The retirement of my prescription is not the only reason for my new found energy. As of the 31st, I have been reduced to 0.75 at work. My replacement is now in for me in the afternoons and lightening my course load by 25% has given me a new lease on my professional life. Where I was cranky, tired, and just getting through the day before, now I am energized and innovating, and generally a better human being. Though it may not be the best mind set in which to be considering it, I have been contemplating what it would take for me to not have to teach full time again until our kids are school age. I have a year and a bit to figure out if we can make it work, and I really hope we can because if it can feel this good to have my feet in both worlds (parent and professional), "I want to go to there." (sorry for the 30 Rock reference, I'm having trouble expressing myself with my usual eloquence)

Anyhow, back to this pregnancy. Besides being an inside out punching bag, I am also jumbo sized. Let me clarify: I have only gained between 15-20 pounds so far, but my belly is stretched to maximum capacity. I feel like an over-ripe melon about to split at the best of times, and while I'm sure my belly button remained flush until the 11th hour with Norah, I am the proud new possessor of a real-life outie these days. People at work have to put their eyes back in their heads and collect their jaws off the floor when I remind them that I am not due until the end of March. I have outgrown maternity pants from my last pregnancy. Rolling over in the night inevitably leads me to light-headedness from lack of oxygen. Yes. I am a beached whale.

But an ambitious beached whale. Did I mention that I completed my application for my master's and hope to take a class in the fall?

Presently, I am taking a couple refresher courses on Hypnobirthing. When I arrived last week, the class was in the middle of pregnancy and birth affirmations. I assumed my seat among the moony-eyed first-time parents and tried my best to focus on the declaratives intended to remind me what a blessing and miracle this process is. Instead, I wound up intently focusing on my guilt for paying so little attention to this pregnancy and the fact that the attention I do pay is primarily negative. No wonder first and second borns are so different.

You must know that I do not hold my future child responsible for any of this. There is no blame or resentment building for him. Just his father.

Just kidding.

Seriously though, even through all the discomfort, I have never forgotten how lucky we are to have been able to conceive so easily and to have carried such strong, healthy babies (knock on wood). I am so excited to meet this little gaffer, especially since any knowledge, or dare I say wisdom, I gained from parenting Norah can be nothing but good for this one.

I have chosen not to re-engage in the pregnancy politics. I don't have time to care about all those boogey-monsters first time moms are encouraged to seek out and vanquish. I don't have the energy to be hyper-vigilant about anything. Sure, I eat well, rest when I can, we keep our home chemical free, and... well, exercise fell out of the equation with the nausea and fatigue, but it did with Norah too... What I am not is up all night researching the contradictory and polarizing biased ridiculousness of the internets. I no longer delude myself into thinking I can control all the crap I can't and for that, I am thankful.

So while this baby may be behind the game in terms of dreamy thoughts focused on all the possibilities that he will bring, he is definitely ahead of the game when it comes to a self-assured mom who is ready for him anytime he wants to make an appearance. Seriously. Anytime, buddy. Six weeks is just a rough estimate-- any time after the next three is fine by me.

2 Years!

2011-02-01T22:20:00.002-06:00

That’s right, folks: We’re no longer counting in months around here.

Needless to say, a lot has changed since my last post.

First, let’s start with how we spent our Christmas vacation.

The day after school let out, we boarded the first of three flights to get us to Kona. The entire trip took us 16 hours. Norah napped in her stroller on our layovers and we were able to keep her happy with episodes of Dora during the first two flights. Thankfully, on the third flight (the long stretch), we had an empty seat next to us. Unfortunately, about 2.5 hours into the 6 hour flight, Norah decided she had had enough. She sat up, signed and said “All done” and tried to get out of our row. Chris tried to assuage her by taking her for a walk down the aisle, but when he got to the front and didn’t deplane, she lost her bacon. She was way past her bedtime and, unfortunately, the only thing that would keep her from crying—the DVD player—was also the one thing keeping her awake. She eventually fell into a restless sleep. We managed to keep her that way through our exit off the plane, waiting for luggage, buckling her into her car seat, and arriving at Chris’s mom’s. She slept until 4:30 a.m., which was pretty amazing considering that was 8:30 our time and she rarely sleeps past 6:30.

While we were there, we went for many walks, visited different playgrounds, stopped in at the library, and, of course, took in the beach. My little Aquarius was immediately smitten with the ocean, even though it took her for more than one tumble. We often convinced her to nap by telling her that when she woke, we would go to the ocean.

Prior to our trip, Norah had developed an irrational fear of chickens and horses. Thanks, Dora. Anyway, there are both chickens and horses around Grandma’s house and so we were able to do some exposure therapy to help her realize that a flock of chickens and/or a rogue horse were not going to trample her at any given moment.

Other highlights of the trip included: Norah’s first ice-cream cone at the coffee shop (she now regularly requests that we go to a coffee shop), picking fresh limes with Grandma, drinking “coffee” (read: Latte hold the espresso) with Mom and Dad at the ungodly hours she chose to wake up, “whacking” bugs, pretending to drive the car for hours on end, opening presents on Christmas, washing dishes (who knew a double sided sink could be so fun?), swinging on a big-girl swing, and meeting a sweet six year old named Sydney at the Vancouver airport who instantly befriended Norah and occupied her for an extraordinarily long time.

When we arrived home, we had hoped to be able to keep her sleeping in a big-girl bed. However, a week of 90 minute bedtime showdowns and early waking forced us to bring back the crib. It took two nights in the crib to get her back on track. Now, she falls asleep on her own in about five minutes of us turning off her light and sleeps through the night. She also naps like a pro—for 2-3 hours each weekend day.

N has only had one ear infection since getting her tubes, and it was quickly and painlessly treated with ear drops. Her speech development has accelerated ten-fold. She’s begun to use verbs, articles, prepositions, which is amazing to us English geeks. Also exciting is her developing intonation. She tries on different tones each day—cheeky, disbelieving, enthusiastic, concerned, chastising, defiant, puzzled, confident, factual—and learns more and more about the art of communication. We regularly play audience to her antics, recognizing fully our role in her budding identity as performer.

When it comes to play, Norah loves her new kitchen (Santa’s gift this year) and all of the accessories others got her for Christmas and her birthday. She regularly serves us tea and pretend cookies and fills her baby’s bottle from the stockpot. She was a little miffed in the beginning that it didn’t have real plumbing, but she seems to have gotten over it. Though she loves Dora more than us some days, she will often turn off the tv part way through a show so that her other play can continue in peace. She loves puzzles and colouring (though she prefers to commission pieces than to work on her own), reading books and nurturing her baby, harassing the cat and doing whatever we ask her not to. Although I never tried as hard as I would have predicted in my younger years, I’ve given up worrying about the gendering of toys. Right now, Norah likes dolls and domestic stuff. There’s nothing wrong with that—especially since she sees both her father and I sharing in those duties around the house. Learning to cook and clean are skills all people should have and you can bet that I will be as eager about getting our boy to bake with me. As the kids grow and become more capable with tools, they will spend time learning those skills from Dad, too. Just last night, Chris was lauding the fact that we are going to raise “renaissance” children. Here’s hoping that’s not just a euphemism for “Jill of all trades, master of none.”

Norah continues to grow like a weed. She stands proudly at 2’11” and weighs in at 37 lbs. Though we have moments where we are concerned about her eating habits (she loves carbs and dairy, but rejects protein and vegetables), we have recently found her to be more willing to try different things (particularly if there is a bribe attached) and we also discovered the “green” smoothie—our sure fire way to get her taking in whole food vegetables without a fight.

Green Smoothie (makes 2 adult and 1 kid servings)

Combine the following in a blender:

1 c. apple juice

1 c. grapes

1 banana

1-2 c. raw spinach

½ c. peeled, sliced cucumber

1 c. raw baby carrots

7-10 ice cubes (to achieve the texture of a slurpee)

C tried it with broccoli the other day and she didn’t even notice. Frozen vegetable medleys like California Mix also work great. Apple juice and banana can mask almost anything (celery is the one exception I can think of).

Her sense of humour is maturing as well. Thanks to Talking Carl, she now loves poking and pinching us to get us to say “Ow!” and thinks it’s hilarious when we hurt ourselves. She jokingly calls me “Daddy” and makes silly faces to make us laugh. Most importantly, she takes the time to appreciate our efforts by telling us how silly we are or laughing at our jokes.

In her more defiant moments, she tells us to “Go away!” so that she can continue doing whatever we have asked her not to do. The word “no” is a one way street in her world and so if we actually want her to discontinue something, we have to remove her from the situation entirely. Fortunately, the inevitable tantrum that follows is usually short lived.

She’s still quite the social creature, even though she plays shy in any new situation. She loves listing her friends, family, and caregivers and is excited to find out who she will be seeing over the weekend. Reminiscing is also a favourite pastime of hers. She begs to look at photos from Hawaii, her birthday, or other special events. I recently read something about how the pure pervasiveness of the digital photo is now actually reframing childhood memory development and that regardless of how great your childhood was, if you have lots of pictures that make it seem like it was awesome, you will remember it as such. This bodes well for our girl.

I was recently warned that I need to pay as much attention to and take as many pictures and videos of our new little boy as we have of Norah and that has been duly noted. As a youngest child, I know too well the resentment that comes with any perceived inequity.

I really hope that the amount I have (not) blogged about this pregnancy is not an indication of how much attention I will pay to our new bundle of joy… I guess I know what my next post should be about…

Baby Blue

2010-11-09T18:08:00.004-06:00

I was soooooo convinced we were having a girl. And I'm always right.

But this time, I was wrong. Weird.

C beamed when it was announced. Norah is going to have a baby brother and I'm still trying to let that sink in. I am excited to pass on all of Norah's old clothes rather than hoarding them in my basement. I am nervous about any penis-related anything-- those things need special care, I hear. Beyond the immediate, I worry he will want to play hockey someday. I am not hockey-mom material. I also worry that he and Norah won't be close because of the sex difference-- not that bonding is guaranteed just because siblings are the same sex. I worry that he will turn into one of those obnoxious boys in my hallway whose language I correct and who scoff at me in return.

But I am also excited. I am excited to do my darnedest to raise a boy who is respectful of the gender spectrum and who understands that being a good man has nothing to do with what kind of car you drive, standing up to pee, or your physical prowess, but rather that manhood is measured by integrity, responsibility, and kindness. I am excited to watch Chris be a father to a boy.

Of course, many of my worries and hopes have nothing to do with the sex of this baby. I have another labour to get through and hope it all goes smoothly (so excited about the new Labour and Delivery and Mother and Baby Units!). I still check the monitor periodically at night just to hear Norah breathe. Having two breaths to listen for is unfathomable right now. I can't wait to see what personality this one comes equipped with and how differently he sleeps/eats/grows than his sister did. I am excited to have a maternity leave with this one to get to know him. I am thrilled that summer will come just three months after he arrives so that C can better enjoy the "baby" stage.

All this talk is making me impatient, so I am going to quit here and go bust out the baby name book. Feel free to leave me suggestions.

Baby Bottles

2010-11-07T22:32:00.003-06:00

Is it weird that I wish I could bottle the essence of my kid? Seriously. There's at least one day a month when I wish I could capture who she is in an exact second, and put it in a bottle on a shelf. There would be hundreds by the time her life diverges so far from mine that I couldn't capture them anymore. But that would be okay because I would have my shelf of bottles and when I was needing a pick-me-up, I could just open one and take a whiff.

Today Norah counted to ten. Nahn. Doo. Free. Pour. Pibe. See. Seben. A. Nigh. Ten! She also said, "I love you, baby" to my belly. When it was time for bed, even though C had to sleep with her in her bed last night (while her most recent ear infection drained onto her pillow, out of her tubes), she only protested once, before rolling over and closing her eyes. It was a good day with our girl. Sometimes I wonder how my heart could possibly grow big enough for two. I know it will. I just don't know how, but sometimes how doesn't matter.

I promise to update more often. We're hoping the ultrasound on Tuesday reveals a healthy baby and its sex. That's as good a reason as any to write.

Wobots. Who? Who?

2010-09-28T21:03:00.004-06:00

Norah got some new jammies from Costco. The other night, I could hear C trying to entice her into a pair.

"Look Norah! New jammies! Don't you want to wear your new jammies?"

"Nah."

"But, Norah! Look! Robots! There's robots on your new jammies!"

"Wobots?"

Robots? I wondered. I was pretty confident there were no robots in the package of three I bought, so I went to investigate.

When I walked into the room, Norah looked at me proudly, pointing to the shirt and said, "Wobots!"

"Uh, honey?" I interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Is there a particular reason you're telling her those owls are robots?"

"Uh... whatever. She doesn't know the difference."

"No, but you probably should."

20 Months - One infection, two infections, three infections, four...

2010-09-27T10:59:00.004-06:00

I'm sitting at home, sick (nothing like a stomach flu and fever during the only nice weather we've had all year to make you feel like blogging your misery), and decided to use my time to catch you up on the past month. You'll have to forgive my timeline-- it's sketchy at best. You'll also have to forgive the negative nature of this post. I chose to write this for a few reasons, though. First of all, I never knew, and therefore presume many non-parents/new parents may not know just how badly even seemingly common illnesses can affect the entire dynamic of a home. Second, navigating the medical system can be a daunting task. We may have free healthcare, but not all doctors are created equal. If there is one lesson to be learned here, it is to seek second, even third opinions when you know something is wrong with your child, even if a doctor disagrees. Finally, I think it is important for parents to recognize the struggles they undergo as much as they celebrate the successes. I don't want this blog to paint a skewed picture of parenting. It's not all rainbows and kisses. I do, however, promise to sift out some funny/heartwarming stories in the near future to counteract what follows.

At the start of the month, Norah was diagnosed with an ear infection. She was prescribed Amoxil and we handled it as per usual. Unfortunately, the completion of her antibiotics did not equal relief. She still cried and pulled at her ears. We took her into a mediclinic where she was prescribed azythromycin (which should be named tasteslikedeathocin) because the infection was still present. We spent the better part of two hours trying to get her to take it and ended up with a screaming, shaking kid and projectile vomit all over our kitchen. We made an appointment to see our family doctor the next day to see if there were any alternatives. After looking at Norah, our family doctor declared that she did not need any more antibiotics and that her body would take care of the remaining infection.

A few days later, we take her back to our family doctor, who now declares that she has an ear, throat, and lung infection. Norah is sent for x-rays to check for pneumonia, we were instructed to collect a urine sample to check for a bladder infection, and she was re-prescribed tasteslikedeathocin as well as another antibiotic. We spend the bulk of our time each day with Norah wrestling medicines into her as she thrashes and screams. We do our best to placate her with gummy vitamins and bottles, but they are little reward for the struggle. It was seriously a horror show around here. Once again, the antibiotics seemed to be having no effect.

Two days later, C took her to emergency because she was a complete disaster. She was crying every time she wet a diaper (which she only did every 12 hours or so, causing her to completely overflow her diapers) and continuing to complain about her ears. After hours of waiting, I joined them just as a GP assessed the situation. We learned that the ACTUAL maximum dosage of ibuprofen is 15 mg/kg and for acetaminophen it is 10 mg/kg, almost a full 50% more than the dosage listed on the box for her weight. You would not believe the difference in our kid when the nurse got the correct amount into her. A pediatrician was brought in and she determined that Norah was also under-dosed in her antibiotics.

Joy. More days added to our antibiotic routine. The next week, we attended a follow up appointment with a pediatrician in regards to her frequent lung and ear infections. He dismissed all of our concerns rather flippantly and again told us that so long as she is in daycare, she will continue to be sick. That Friday (a week after our previous hospital visit), my sister-in-law pulled some strings and got us back into see the emergency pediatrician again as Norah was still crying in pain even when on full doses of Advil and Tylenol. The doctor took a good, long look in Norah's ear, seeing the middle ear infection that the previous pediatrician didn't notice or ignored and prescribed us antibiotic drops to add to the oral antibiotics Norah was still on. She also referred us to an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist-- a referral we had been wanting for a while.

Just as Norah was starting to feel better, she got pink-eye. More torture/wrestling each morning and night.

It may seem silly to the childless/childfree folks out there, but being forced to basically torture your child, who does not yet equate nasty medicine with feeling better, a dozen or so times a day (once you add up multiple antibiotics, ear or eye drops, and pain-relief) wreaks havoc on your own psyche and relationship skills. Our house was not a very pleasant place for a very long time. Fortunately, family members did their best to help out and we survived.

Last week, Norah got sick again. This time, it was just a cold, but she is back on both inhalers because her breathing was so laboured she just slept all day. Just in case you're wondering, she hates the inhalers as much as she hates medicine and it requires both of us to restrain her as I hold the chamber to her face for 8-10 excruciating breaths (read: gasps between screams). On the day C took her to the doctor this week, he asked about the ENT referral as we hadn't heard from the office. Our family doctor told him to call and inquire. Luckily, he didn't have to. That afternoon, we got a call to let us know that there had been a cancellation and they could see Norah that afternoon.

C called my sister-in-law because my niece has been through this whole process in the last year. He asked what info he would need for the self-assessment. One question he was not prepared for, however, was the question about language delays. When he asked the specialist, he was told that at 18 months, a child should have 50 or more words discernible by anyone. This was news to us and a bit of a shock. Norah has a ton of words and is always trying new ones, but unless you are immersed in her version of English, she is very difficult to understand. Many of her words sound identical. She can't often tell the difference between p's and b's and m's. She drops the ends of words and never aspirates letters. After looking in her ear and seeing the amount of fluid, the specialist said that would probably explain why. He offered tubes as an option and without hesitation, C put N on the waiting list. We just got the call today and she will go in on the 12th of October. It's a quick surgery, but it does require her to go under general anesthetic, which means no food or liquid (not even water) after midnight the night before. Here's hoping she sleeps through the night.

All of this illness has led to many set-backs for us. Norah is back to taking bottles at other times than bedtime. We think the sucking helps to alleviate the discomfort in her ears. Getting her to eat anything has been a chore and so we have been very lenient with her requests. Cereal bars, crackers, and rice cakes with peanut butter are her staples. I can't remember the last vegetable she ate (at our house at least). She requires one of us to be present until she is fully asleep and this can sometimes take upwards of 45 minutes. She has become a Jekyll and Hyde kind of kid with way more Hyde than Jekyll. Getting dressed in the morning or for bed is an epic battle. Until yesterday, she basically refused to eat anywhere but on my lap or while playing in the living-room. She has frequent tantrums if things aren't going her way, but will request hugs out of the blue and can be a champion snuggler. Although we were blessed last night without any wakings, she usually wakes twice, requiring a bottle and a lot of soothing before returning to sleep.

On top of it all, both C and I have also been run down by colds and/or flus. Never have we missed so much work so early in the year. This results in us working longer hours and our priorities at home being pushed to the back burner. Our zucchini plant successfully usurped our entire garden with two foot long zucchinis and prehistoric sized leaves. Our potatoes and carrots still wait to be harvested. Our house has never been so dirty (I don't just mean untidy. I mean dirty.). C has managed to stay on top of laundry, which amazes me. Somehow we manage to eat something, though far too often it comes in a paper bag. Right now it is kind of hard to imagine ever being ahead of, or at the very least caught up with, the game again. But, if there's one thing I've learned in the past 20 months, that is that things are always changing and no phase-- good or bad-- lasts for long. And so I will employ the Wait it Out Method of Parenting (patent pending).

19 Months

2010-08-24T12:40:00.003-06:00

Besides a reduction in her daycare fees, month nineteen has brought other pleasant changes.

Recently, Norah has made some new friends. Bunny, Bear, Baby, and Blankie are her new best friends. Interestingly, Bunny was a toy of mine when I was younger and bear was Chris's fave. She has rejected plenty of newer, prettier toys, for the comfort of the worn, faded ones from our childhoods. She asks about their whereabouts regularly, each by name-- except for Bunny. For Bunny, she clicks her tongue, which is the sound we taught her that bunnies make. The toys take turns in the stroller, having their diapers changed, or colouring at the table. Sometimes, Bunny will join us on car rides, but for the most part, they stay close to home.

Norah is FINALLY back to falling asleep on her own. We leave the room with her still awake and, with the help of her 4 B's, she's able to drift off to dream land without too much of a fuss.

She continues to love playing with water outdoors, which promises to be a challenge when the weather turns colder. Hopefully once the basement is finished and her playroom is complete, we will be able to entertain her indoors.

The summer festivals have been right up her alley. Meeting up with friends at Folk Festival and Symphony Under the Sky were big hits. Being allowed to run free, dance, people watch, and, of course, eat, was the perfect way to spend a few afternoons. It also gave C and I a chance to visit with our friends.

While she continues to be fairly monosyllabic in her language experimentation, the odd time she will surprise us by stringing together words like "sun-glasses." And though we can't be 100% positive, we're pretty sure she's picked up one exclamation we'd prefer she hadn't. Fortunately, her poor enunciation means it sounds more like "Oh, sheesh!" than what we really think she's saying.

In just a week, she will be moving up to the toddler room. Many of her infant room friends will be moving up with her, but there will also be some other older kids to keep her on her toes. We will no longer be receiving daily updates on her eating, sleeping, and playing habits. This will be the next step in letting go, but I think all three of us are ready.

Rockin the Routine

2010-08-02T12:25:00.004-06:00

Since we got back from AZ 3 1/2 weeks ago, Norah has not been cooperative when it came to sleep. We resorted to throwing her in the car to initiate her naps. Bedtime got later and later as we waited for her to be completely exhausted. We would put her down and she would scream herself into an asthmatic coughing fit so we would pull her out of bed. She would laugh and trot out to the living room to play. We would try again, once, twice, three times before she finally closed her eyes.

It all came to a head at the end of last week. She was up past 10 and completely losing her bacon whenever we even thought about putting her to bed. It was the next day that I decided to hit the books. I had been avoiding it because I already knew what it would say: have a bedtime routine. Stick to it.

But we had a routine! We bathed her (sometimes), gave her a snack (sometimes), put her in her pj's, and let her play OR took her straight to her room for her bottle. Then, we put her in her bed and soothed her (for 2-20 minutes), then left the room. She would cry, so we would go in, soothe her OR pull her out of bed.

Oh my. We had no routine. This was a monster of our own creation. Just call me Mama Frankenstein.

So, I laid down the law. Close to bedtime, Norah would have a snack. After a yawn or two, we take her to her room, change her into her pj's, let her play and read books on her big girl bed (though she won't sleep in it, she sure does love hanging out on it!). Following 10-15 minutes of quiet play and reading, we offer her a bottle. Her white noise is turned on and she is given her bottle in the rocking chair. When she's done, into her bed she goes. We will soothe her, but if she stands up to protest, we leave the room. After 5 minutes, we go back in, lay her back down, and try to soothe her again. If she accepts, we stay until she is asleep. If not, we leave again and go back 5-10 minutes later depending on how intensely she was crying. Repeat until the girl sleeps. Under no circumstances was she to leave her bedroom after the routine began.

We started last Thursday and every night since, she has gone to sleep before 9:00 AND she has gone down for this weekend's naps without any crying at all! For whatever reason, at night she needs to scream her face off for 5 minutes before letting me soothe her to sleep, but after that five minutes, we get to have some pretty amazing hand holding/tummy rubbing/hair stroking off to dreamland time.

So here's my lesson for the week:Routine = Relief.

18 Months and Counting

2010-07-28T11:51:00.002-06:00

Half way to three? You've got to be kidding.

Nope. No kidding here. Here's the update (apologies to those who got it via email-- not much new to read here):

Norah's growth has slowed down a little. She's only grown an inch since her first birthday and because she's fully mobile, she's actually dropped below 30 lbs. Still not a small girl, though.

She's talking up a storm (to supplement her signing), though it is with a bit of a baby accent and requires some interpretation. She can name all of her cousins, ask for a variety of foods or activities, and express VERY clearly when she does not like the way a situation is going. She loves to laugh and even plays jokes on us sometimes.

What really boggles my mind, though, is her imagination. Her ability to pretend is amazing. She has a baby whom she feeds and diapers and walks and puts to sleep. She pretends to eat sand ice-cream cones (without actually eating any!). Most recently, she has started pretending to fly around our house and crashing on the big-girl bed in her room. She chooses her most aerodynamic position (arms stiffly behind her back, bent over, running head first) and even has sound effects.

Oh, and though the big-girl bed is in her room, she's not yet sleeping in it. We tried it one night out of sheer desperation (yes, at 18 months, she still hates sleep), but it failed.

She loves daycare. She has spent much of the summer there as we do home renovations. They keep her so active and engaged and we are so thankful to have found such a great place for her to grow. She and her best friend are presently the leaders of the pack in the infant room, but that will soon change when they move up to the toddler area, which she is very excited to do.

When we are home, she loves watering the flowers, blowing bubbles, and going for rides in our bike trailer. She's an outdoor girl, that's for sure, and we're trying to make the most of this summer before the snow flies.

She continues to struggle with textures when it comes to eating. Just last night, I offered her rice and chickpea stew (chickpeas, tomatoes, peppers, celery, onion, garlic, cumin, oregano, and thyme. Yum!). She took one bite, gagged, and spit it all out. So, I blended some for her
and she ate 3 bowls. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that continuing to expose her to these flavours will pay off when she outgrows the texture thing and that even though we joke about it, we won't REALLY have to send her to kindergarten with a Magic Bullet to blend her
sandwiches.

As for Mom and Dad, we continue to be thankful that we have such a happy, sweet, beautiful, funny little girl.

Summmmmmahhhhhhhh

2010-07-14T10:10:00.005-06:00

You all should thank my friend Kim. Without her regular harassment and slandering, I might never update at all.

It's summer. SUMMER PEOPLE! You're all, "Yes, and it has been since June 21." And I'm all, "Perhaps by some calendars, but I'm a teacher and my four seasons are: Semester One, Winter Break, Semester Two, and Summmmmahhhhh.

Today is the first day since summer began that I have had nothing planned when I woke in the morning. I checked my email, responded to a Facebook message from Kim, and booked a massage for the afternoon. C will be back in a little while from a meeting about his thesis (which is almost done WOOT! WOOT!) and then we might go grocery shopping or do nothing at all.

Norah? She's at daycare probably playing hide and seek with her best pal or working on her latest crayon masterpiece. It's her third day back since our holiday (more to follow) and I am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel: Routine. Oh routine. How you make our lives so much easier.

Yes, we've been out of routine for a while now. It started with Canada Day, which fell on a Thursday. We first met up with a couple cousins and G at a park. We blew bubbles and ran up and down a ramp a couple hundred times. We picked up rocks, we swung in a swing, we ran and chased, and we had a snack. After napping, we again met up with G downtown and headed toward the festivities, which thanks to my lack of planning and foresight, were quite a jaunt away from our parking space. The girls rode together in our bike trailer/jogging stroller. We made it just in time for all the booths to be shutting down. So, we grabbed some ice cream and ate it in a tiny spot of shade. On the way back to the car, both girls decided they would rather walk but refused to hold our hands. This turned into a tantrum that was shortly solved by returning them to the stroller... with cookies. We brought them back to our place where they played briefly with the hose and then we tossed them in the tub for good measure.

C's cousin and his wife had arrived for a visit by this point. Our goal was to watch the Rider game, but since we have no cable, that was going to be difficult. Ever the resourceful provider, C arranged for us to watch it at our friends' place even though they were out of town. N did a great job of hanging out for the entire duration of the game (including over time) and then we took her home to bed.

Friday, she returned to daycare. Saturday we were supposed to be departing for Arizona, but due to United Airlines and Aeroplan's incompetence, we had to reschedule for Sunday. Instead, we spent the day getting ready to go and Norah played with her Grandma and Papa. Did I mention they've been living with us for the past 3 weeks?

They are building a new home and have been out of their old one since the end of April. They had been renting a cabin in the interim, but their lease ran up and the house still wasn't finished. It's been a full house, but having them here has been nothing short of amazing. Part of me wishes we belonged to a culture where it was expected that we would live together indefinitely... only in a bigger house. My parents are incredibly generous with both their time and their resources. My Dad has mowed the lawn countless times. My mother takes care of dishes and tons of other cleaning. They have reorganized my kitchen and the garage. Most importantly, though, they have bonded with Norah. So much so that if my father has left for work before she wakes, she won't stop asking for him until we call him on the phone. I'm not really sure what we will do when they get possession this weekend. C suggested we move in with them. Perhaps we should give them some time alone before we suggest it again...

Anyhow, back to summer. On Sunday we woke Norah at 4:30. It took a while to rouse her, but when we did, she was in a great mood. Thankfully. My mom drove us to the airport and our journey began.

Norah did fairly well on the two flights it took to get to Phoenix, getting a little squirrely on the first flight but spending the entire second trying to impress our row-mate, an exchange student whose first question was whether she could take a picture of our cute girl. She napped in the Denver Airport while we ate lunch, reclined in her stroller.

When we arrived in Phoenix, we were met by our dear friends Ben and Julia and their sons Quinn and Leo. Quinn was just an infant the last time we saw him in person. He's now a rambunctious 3 year old. This was our first introduction to Leo who is only 8 weeks old (well, 10 by now). We taught with Ben and Julia in Cambodia and have maintained a Skype video friendship with them over the last 3 years. They were home for the summer between moving from Korea to Indonesia.

They had an offer to house-sit in Flagstaff and we tagged along. We spent 5 days hanging out-- bouncing the kids on the trampoline, traveling to Sedona and the Grand Canyon (AMAZING, but they seriously need to put up some guard rails), and catching up when the kids went to sleep. Chris also took in a Diamondbacks/Cubs game with Ben and another old friend from overseas, James, who was down in Tucson with his fiance.

Norah fell madly in love with Quinn and, much to his dismay, always wanted to be close to him, preferably touching (his hair, his arm, his eyeball, whatever).

N did okay sleep wise, but a couple times she woke early and we pulled her into bed with us as a last ditch attempt to catch a bit more sleep. It worked once.

We drove back to Phoenix Thursday afternoon, stopping to do some Outlet shopping on the way. When we got to the hotel, we thought it would be the perfect time to take a dip in the pool they advertised online. Like the naive Canadian schmucks we are, we both envisioned an indoor, climate controlled pool. Instead, we got three feet of shade in water warm enough for a bath for ten minutes before we decided skin cancer wasn't a good idea. I have never been hotter in my life.

That night, Norah refused to sleep in the hotel crib. Perhaps because she was about an inch from touching on all sides. We had to put her in her stroller and walk her for half an hour in the evening heat (so sweaty) to get her to finally nod off. She spent a few hours in the crib, but her constant flailing against the rails was keeping us up. We pulled her into the king size bed and endured a few more hours of baby pinball before getting up to make our 6 a.m. flight.

N slept 3/4 of the flight to Denver and again in her stroller in the Denver airport during our 3 hour layover. She made it home without a fuss and was thrilled to see her Grandma, Papa, and her kitties.

It's been a bit of a struggle to get her to sleep each night since. We even resorted to enlisting Grandma to do the job. It worked. Once. She's teething and has had a cough for about 10 days (but no fever... and our doctor is on holidays...). She also seems to need 7 hours between waking from her nap and bedtime to go down without a fuss. So, 9:00 is the new 8.

While we were away, she has developed the confidence to try new words when asked (and so long as no on else is watching). She chatters more regularly and laughs more easily. Her personality just keeps getting bigger.

She's also become a pickier eater, which is troubling, but I'm hoping the routine of daycare will cure her of that.

Monday and Tuesday she was back at daycare and we have been working on renovations. We replaced 7 windows and tomorrow it is on to home-wrap and then insulation Friday.

But today is my day. Thanks for spending some of it with me!

17 Months (and then some)

2010-06-30T20:52:00.004-06:00

Today was the first day of summer break so I figure I have no excuse not to post.

What's new with Norah, you ask?

Well. She's recently begun chattering full sentences in some self-constructed language and I'm sure it won't be long before the gap in understanding begins to frustrate her. Presently, our conversations sound like this:

Me: Norah, what did you do today at daycare?

Norah: Gah isht cept key muh dar.

Me: Fascinating.

Norah: Bah mum its kew guh dee?

Me: Okay!

Norah: Kew guh dee?!

Me: Sounds good!

Norah: Nuh! (shaking her whole body "No!")

Me: Well in that case, perhaps not.

In the nourishment department, I'm back to slipping her veggies in puree form. She hates the texture of all things veg. The running joke is that I'm going to have to send her to kindergarten with a Magic Bullet so she can blend her sandwiches.

Sleep wise, she's great when she's not sick, but we're sick a lot around here. Ear infections, tonsillitis, colds, hand foot and mouth... it's kind of ridiculous. For now, she's healthy and sleeping through so long as she doesn't have a bad dream or soak through her diaper (that kid must have a bladder for her bladder). Unfortunately, she almost always wakes before 7 but won't sleep any sooner than 6 hours after she wakes from her afternoon nap. Most often, she sleeps until after 2:00 at daycare, which has meant a lot of 9:00 bedtimes. If the mosquitoes weren't so bad at dusk, that would be great because we could have some quality after supper walks or yard care. I know how I must sound, but seriously, her bites swell to the size of toonies and often verge on infection.

How are her motor skills? Well, she can get off the couch but not on it. She has learned to go down stairs the safe way, but prefers to descend like everyone else and will attempt to do so whether or not I am holding her hand.

Her temperament remains steadfastly even-keeled. Her pendulum really doesn't swing very far in either direction and though I long for a good hysterical fit of laughter worthy to go viral on Youtube, I certainly don't miss the violent temper-tantrums that I know kids her age are capable of.

She also seems quite adept at handling change. My folks moved in on the 18th. They're staying here until the house is finished. Norah has hardly missed a beat. Now, instead of simply immediately inquiring upon wake-up as to the whereabouts of her "kitties" and whichever parent didn't happen to enter her room, she also queries as to the location of "Ma" and "Pa." This interrogation is repeated when she is picked up from daycare and again when she gets home. While this may not seem like a major feat, she now willingly goes to and snuggles with both my mom and my dad without any prompting and sometimes even prefers their company to ours. Having them here has been a great thing for her relationship with them. Plus, my lawn has never been more manicured. Win/win really.

Speaking of the lawn, she is drawn to the outdoors like a magnet. She loves helping to water the plants and often demands I break out the bubble solution. Dirt seems to feel great between her fingers. The stroller and bike trailer are big hits as well. When we do have to be inside, she splits her time between assaulting the cats and mothering (feeding, diapering, strolling, swaddling, patting, throwing) her baby doll.

Unfortunately, one nasty habit has reared it's ugly head this month. Lying. You think I jest. Alas, I do not. Whenever I inquire as to whether or not she is/has pooping/pooped, her response is ALWAYS, "NUH!" Me knows she doth protest too much. Unfortunately for her, like her diaper, I know she is full of poop, and we change it anyway.

Each day, both C and I shake our heads and wonder where our baby girl has gone. It's hard to believe that next month she'll be 3/4 the way to two!

Roadie in the Making

2010-06-13T21:23:00.002-06:00

I'm sure we're not the only ones who planned weird sociological experiments upon our first born's arrival into the world. Perhaps we're just dumb enough to own up to it.

After hearing too many stories about little ones scared of vacuum cleaners and blenders, C and I decided that we wanted Norah to be different. So, starting from as early an age as made sense (once her vision cleared and she had enough wits about her to understand that noise was caused by something and didn't just happen magically), we began our Pavlovian endeavor.

Whenever we would run the blender or the vacuum, we would light up, clap, and cheer, "LOUD NOISE, NORAH! LOUD NOISE! WOOHOO!" Once she was old enough, she joined in the cheering. To this day, she begs to be held up high enough to see when we make smoothies and roots on the vacuum as it does its rounds.

Today, I asked C to open the front door to its screen so that we could get some cool air circulating. He forgot to turn off the house alarm before doing so.

Now, our house alarm is wireless and the siren is located on our main floor, as we don't have an attic. It is almost painful to try to turn it off at the source if you have misplaced your key-fob.

In other words, it's loud.

So when C opened the door, the alarm began screaming. Norah, who had just risen from bed and was still groggy looked at me, troubled. Without missing a beat, I began to cheer, "LOUD NOISE, NORAH! LOUD NOISE!" while C searched clumsily for the key-fob.

When he finally turned it off, Norah looked at me, smiled, clapped, and said, "More?"

A Toddling We Will Go

2010-06-08T20:47:00.003-06:00

I don't mean to alarm you, but my baby is missing. Someone has replaced her, instead, with a little girl-- a little girl who runs and laughs and makes believe and likes things done her way.

This weekend, we went to a pancake breakfast. N's best friend G was in attendance. Now, often, people scoff or cock a skeptical eyebrow when I suggest Norah has a best friend, but let me tell you this: Norah knows three names, "Mom," "Dad," and "Guh." She doesn't say Auntie or Uncle or any of her cousins' names. Grandma and Papa aren't even in her vocab. When N is fussing about having to put on her coat or shoes in the morning, we say, "But Norah! Don't you want to go see G at daycare?" and she cooperates.

At said pancake breakfast, we sat the girls beside one another. They gnawed on their hot cakes and stole glances at each other. They shared a banana and a half and then we set them loose. In the half of the hall sans tables and chairs, the girls were free to run and run they did.

Though G is two months N's junior, G has far superior gross motor skills and so in any game of Follow the Leader, N is invariably the follower. They chased one another, squealing with delight. For a while, they played their version of hide and seek and when I asked N, "Where's G?" She looked at me, shrugged, and said, "Guh?" Later, from opposite sides of the room, they ran towards one another. Norah raised her hand high in the air and, I kid you not, G returned the favour and they successfully completed their first High Five at full speed. Cute doesn't even begin to describe it.

On Sunday, our friends brought over their eight week old little girl and it was hard to remember Norah ever being that young, especially when these days she asks for bowls, spoons, and bottles to feed her dolls and stuffies and later demands that they be swaddled. In just over a year, she has gone from baby to playing with babies and pretending to be mommy. And I've gone from thinking infancy would never end to wondering where in the world the time went!

16 Months (and 10 Days)

2010-05-31T20:35:00.002-06:00

I waited until today to report so that I could report about my daughter and not the virus that had taken over her body for the past few weeks.

Besides ear, eye, and hand/foot/mouth infections, Norah is continuing to mature in ways that both excite and frighten me.

Let's get the frightening stuff out of the way...

She says no. More appropriately, she twists side-to-side at her waist and neck, flails her arms, shuts her eyes tight and yells,"Neh! Neh!" Fortunately, it's still funny. Unfortunately, I know that won't last long.

She loves cookies and TV. Since she's been so sick, I've been away/busy with work, and C has been injured (it's a long story, ask me next time we chat if you don't know already) we've been a little slack in the firm-consistent-parenting philosophy and a little loose with the do-whatever-it-takes-to-make-her-stop-being-crazy mentality. We're weaning her off the cookies by playing dumb when she asks for them by name and giving her crackers instead.

Norah: "Kuh-kee?"
Mom: "Cra-cker? You want a cra-cker?"
Norah: shrugs and takes the cracker

The TV is easy now that she's back at daycare.

Her desires have far exceeded her signing and verbal vocabulary. This has resulted in some frustrating interactions when she is trying to order in our kitchen.

Norah: "Muh?"
Mom: "More what?"
Norah: "Muh?"
Mom: "More milk?"
Norah: shakes no
Mom: "More yogurt?"
Norah: shakes no. "Muh?" only more pleading
Mom: "More banana?"
Norah: shakes no.
Mom: "More toast?"
Norah: staring blankly.
Mom: "More what?"
Norah: "Muh?"

Now onto the exciting parts.

She's signing "airplane" like a madwoman. In fact, the other night, when she woke at 4:00 and I was trying to get her back to sleep, her eyes were closed and I was about to sneak out when I could hear a plane coming. I silently prayed she wouldn't notice, but sure enough, when it was right overhead, she shot straight up to sitting and furiously signed "Plane! PLANE!!!!!!!!" (if you saw her do it, you would understand the multiple exclamation marks). I replied, "Yes, Norah. It's a plane. Now, lie down and go back to sleep." And she did.

She plays hide-and-go-seek with us for hours. It's especially good for us because we can reuse the same spots over and over and she doesn't feel any less clever for finding us.

She LOVES all her cousins. She loves chasing them and observing how they play. She vibrates with excitement when she sees them and is upset when she has to leave them.

Her curls are coming in full force. We're going for her first haircut in a few days to tidy up her look a little.

Her walking is more proficient every day and her speed is ever increasing. This means we can take her places and leave the stroller at home (so long as we're not in a hurry). She thoroughly enjoys chasing us through aisles at Home Depot and around racks at Superstore and if we stop to, you know-- shop, she will impatiently push us in a new direction until the game begins again. The trick is to run far enough and fast enough to buy some time at our destination before she "gets" us and wants more.

My time away in Victoria and subsequent forced exposure to friends and relatives who came to help in Chris's time of need (due to his injury, not his lack of parenting skills) has made her more gregarious. She now willingly goes to my mother and takes less time to "warm-up" around our friends. Oh, and she didn't hate me when I got back. I was glad about that.

She sits at the big-kid table at daycare. No more high chairs for her. She feeds herself more often than not and even though I still have to puree the odd dish (textures are still not her bag), she readily enjoys flavours I wasn't exposed to until my adult life.

Her ability to self-occupy increases all the time. Today, she was playing in the living room while Chris made supper. Unprompted, she toddled into the kitchen, opened the towel drawer, pulled out a tea-towel, closed the drawer, and toddled back to the living room without even acknowledging Chris. Seemed her baby needed another blanket.

She loves to help. In fact, if I convince her she's helping, I can get her to do just about anything-- even hand off a forbidden object with which we don't want her to play. She'll even help clean up! Watching me cook and observing me do dishes are among her favourite activities. I can't wait until she's old enough to join in. Oh wait. Yes I can.

Uh-Oh!

2010-05-16T09:58:00.002-06:00

Norah just learned to say Uh (insert dramatic pause here) Oh! It's pretty darned cute. This morning while C and I were in the kitchen making breakfast, N was sitting in her booster seat eating strawberries. She kept repeating it, over and over. We would repeat it back to her and smile at each other like, "What an adorable daughter we have."

But then I started wondering why she was saying it so frequently and out of context. Why just yesterday, she was only saying it at appropriate times...

I started watching her more closely. She would pick up a strawberry, suck on it, take it out of her mouth, and then drop it down the hole in the armrest of her booster chair where the tray is supposed to plug in. "Uh------Oh!"

This patter continued until she realized it was just more efficient to drop the strawberries straight in there without putting them in her mouth first. There was a pile of strawberry goodness on the chair beneath her seat-- not to mention the dried up who-knows-what from who-knows-when she originally discovered this repository for food she didn't feel like eating.

Do Over Done Right

2010-05-09T21:01:00.002-06:00

To be fair to my husband, whom I may have disparaged last Mother's Day due to his lack of formal acknowledgment, I figured I had better post an update.

This year, C got out of bed with Norah, quietly fed her, and whisked her away to Superstore for our weekly grocery shop so that I could sleep in. When he returned, he brought breakfast-- nothing fancy, just a breakfast sandwich and a double-double (just the way I like it). Following breakfast, I opened my card, and in it, I discovered a flight itinerary for a trip to Victoria over May long. My name is the only name on the ticket.

I leave Wednesday night. In order to get me an extra day, he had my Vice-Principal forge some documents so I could access my personal day. Friday was already a day off and I return Sunday so that Monday I can be at rehearsal for my school's One Acts that are going up the following week.

And this trip is like two for the price of one because BOTH of my best friends will be there during my visit. I couldn't be more excited for the drinks, the shopping, the madlibs (happy, Kim?), and the sleeping in!

This clearly more than makes up for the incident of '09. Now my only issue is figuring out how to repay him come Father's Day...

Happy Mother's Day!

2010-05-08T22:09:00.002-06:00

It was two years ago tomorrow that I found out I was pregnant with Norah. Two years ago, I had no idea what two pink lines on a pregnancy test would yield.

Today, my beautiful, happy, curious, gentle, funny, caring, mischievous, determined, cautious, independent, snuggly, proud little miracle walks, talks, and laughs. She thinks, acts, and claps. She mimics, performs, and learns. She plays, dances, and sings. She draws, builds, and signs. She splashes, throws, and climbs. She opens and closes, gets in and gets out, turns on and turns off, sits down and stands up. She eats and sleeps, and does it all over again.

It boggles my mind that tomorrow is a day to celebrate my role in it all. She is the amazing one. I'm the luckiest mom in the world.

15 Months: This Update is Brought to You by the Letter B and the Number 103

2010-04-23T21:54:00.005-06:00

Norah figured out how to walk shortly after my last post. Everyone warned us, "Just give her a couple weeks, and she'll be running!"

Sorry folks, but this is my kid. My content kid. If we make a game of it, she will walk between Chris and I and for certain distances at daycare. Only today did her child care providers brag about her spontaneously walking between a table and a book shelf. It would have been two or three steps for her. She really is not interested. She would much prefer to cruise, hang on to our fingers, or crawl to her destination.

Needless to say, my anxiety about my immobile daughter is over and I am basking in the luxury that is a slow moving child. We still have our "oopsies" but they have more to do with her size. The bigger they are the harder they fall and the easier they pull down/knock over large pieces of furniture... usually onto themselves...

Her language continues to develop. She has mastered the letter B. "Buh-buh" is bellybutton. "Buh-DEE!" is birdie. "Buh" is bum. "Ba-Ba" (with an "a" sound as in bath) is what a sheep says. "Bah" is balloon. "Ba" is ball. "Bye" is, well, bye.

She also has approximations of thank you "keew," kitty "kee-tee," hat or head (we can't figure out which) "hah" (it's more an aspiration than a word). She says "Dad" with increasing regularity and "Mum" is still a favourite. "WOW!" is one we're working on. It's super cute when she gets it.

In sign language, she spontaneously and regularly says: more, please, wait (she thinks if she copies us, she won't have to), drink, milk, all done, fan, and walk.

The cats are back in our good books, especially Michael. He is SO tolerant of N's "petting" (read: poking, drumming with a wooden spoon, fur-pulling) and will even let her play "peekaboo" with him, which involves her attempting to throw a blanket over his head (landing on him with her full weight in the process) and then ripping it off. We're slightly concerned about the fact that Norah seems to prefer Gabriel who clearly wants nothing to do with her. We're hoping it doesn't spell trouble for her love life-- torturing the one who loves her and chasing someone who doesn't

Her sleeping is fairly regular. She naps once or twice a day and requires a minimum of 4.5 hours of waking time between her last nap and bed. This means than many nights, she does not go to bed until 8:30 or even later. She's a pretty regular riser between 6 and 7. We only ever have to get up with her in the night if she is teething or sick.

Speaking of teeth, each time daycare says she's teething again, I wonder where she has room for more. I've stopped counting. Oh and molars are the devil. Motrin is our angel.

She loves to eat off our plates. She still has issues with a lot of textures, but we keep exposing her to them in the hopes that, like her gag reflex, they will pass. Her favourite food is pickles, her favourite dish is spinach and feta quiche, and her favourite drink is a homemade berry banana smoothie with yogurt and soymilk. Meat is an iffy one around here so we have introduced peanut butter to breakfast. She's down to one bottle a day-- her bedtime bottle. Neither of us are ready to give that up yet. But the other two were a breeze to eliminate. She hasn't even noticed that they're gone.

We picked up a convertible bike trailer/jogging stroller that she loves. She's not nearly as passionate about her watermelon helmet as we are, so she's only gone for walks in the thing. She waves like a queen through its plastic windows and squeals and points and Buh-DEES! Man, she loves birds.

I dread rainy days because my kid just wants to be outside. Seconds after arriving home from daycare, she will be trying to stuff her toes back into her shoes or trying to open the front door (and the bugger is tall enough to reach the pull down handle-- she just hasn't yet figured out the lock). We've taken to just opening the door wide and putting the baby gate in the door frame so she can stand with the fresh air and sounds of nature.

Her Here Comes Science DVD continues to be one of our favourite things. When she is inconsolable, that will calm her. When we need to tag team a chore, that will occupy her. When she hasn't pooped all day, it will inspire a BM. No joke. It's like all day long she is too busy to bother pooping, but if the DVD comes on, it only takes a song or two and we've got to break out a new diaper. Its success rate is about 98% for diaper filling. It's especially nice when we have somewhere to go but are still waiting for our daily quota of dirty diapers. She doesn't watch it everyday and it is usually in very small doses, but weeks like this one when C has basically had to be a single parent because I've been laid up with the flu and a fever ranging from 100-103 for four days, it keeps us both sane.

Everyday, C says to me, "Honey, she's seriously the cutest kid ever, right? Like who has a kid this cute?" at least once, if not more often. It's really mind boggling that she's turned into this little person. I am simultaneously weepy at the disappearance of my baby and amazed at her development, eager to see what she will learn next.

Miss Manners

2010-04-01T21:59:00.004-06:00

Early this week, when C picked N up from daycare, he was informed that our daughter is turning into a bit of a bossypants.

It seems she has begun throwing fits when she doesn't get what she wants when she wants it.

Slightly embarrassed and mostly bewildered, C asked for advice about what we should do.

"Well... make her wait for things and get her to say please."

When he came home, he was still bewildered.

"Say please? She doesn't talk. How are we supposed to get her to say please?"

I told him to go get the baby sign book and we looked it up. Sure enough, after signing it to her once or twice, she was signing it back whenever we asked and sometimes, when cookies were in question, even without us asking. Clearly, we've been asleep at the signing wheel for sometime.

Thank you, daycare! (Now... how would I sign that?)

Ready to Read

2010-03-16T10:53:00.004-06:00

Norah loves books. No matter what mood she's in, if we offer her a book, she vibrates with excitement.

Every night after her bath, Norah sits in her rocking chair wrapped in her towel and thumbs through the pages of Goodnight Moon or Moo Baa LaLaLa, studies the pictures and words and laughs every now and again at some inside joke she has with the illustrations.

When just one of us is changing her diaper, she opens up her Belly Button Book and smiles. When both of us are there, she insists one of us hold it for her and recite it, jamming her thumb into her belly button and smiling at the exact moment the word is to be recited. It blows my mind that she can anticipate what's coming, knowing the the word that comes next before it's said without understanding all the other ones being recited.

For her birthday, she was given a book with baby farm animals that make noise when you press their images. If we were up for it, she would sit with us and that book directing our index fingers to the animal of her choice for hours.

Being English teachers only heightens our excitement about this stage in her development. Because we know the proven benefits of exposure to written language, we can already see a bright future unfolding before her. It's thrilling. Nerdy, but thrilling.

She's Already Spooning!

2010-03-16T10:47:00.003-06:00

C was picking N up from daycare last week and noticed that she had applesauce for snack.

C: "Oh, so you guys gave up with the finger foods and fed her instead?"

"Oh, no, we didn't feed her. She fed herself."

C: "Applesauce?"

"Yup."

C:"How?"

"With a spoon."

C: "You gave her a bowl of apple sauce and a spoon?"

"Yes."

C: "And she didn't throw it on the floor?"

"No. Sometimes she got the spoon upside down and that was frustrating, but other than that she did fine."

C: (slack jawed)

"Don't worry about it. It happens all the time. Parents are always asking, 'how do you guys DO that?'"

General Update (specifics to follow)

2010-03-16T08:04:00.003-06:00

It's a long story (2 weeks and counting), but it ended yesterday with me at the ear, nose, and throat specialist having who-knows-what sucked out of my ear and antiviral cream pumped in. The good news is that my hearing will return to my right ear in a couple weeks.

Norah has finally returned to her old self (knock on wood). No more snot, no more coughing, and last night she went to bed at 7:50, woke once at 3:00 but returned to sleep without any intervention, and woke at 6:45 in a great mood.

She continues to LOVE daycare. We had been a little concerned because her first caregiver moved away and was replaced with another. Much to our delight, Norah is completely infatuated with her. Many days, she does not shed a tear when Chris drops her off and when we pick her up, she smiles when she sees us and keeps playing. Each nice day, she goes outside for 40 minutes or so. She coloured her first picture for me (she shows great promise as an abstract artist). She often goes to play with the toddlers and goes swimming at least once a month.

Each weekend, we try to keep her busy. Grocery shopping and errands only go so far though. This past weekend we had a play date with two of her best friends, their moms, and another friend of mine on Saturday and on Sunday, she got to spend time with two of her cousins. Next week, we start swimming lessons at the Y and I am very excited that the weather as of late has permitted walks. Norah has a new found appreciation for the swings at the park.

She's no closer to walking by herself. She's not a fan of her walkers and so if she wants to go somewhere, it means we go with her. Again, I know it is probably a blessing in disguise, but I am kind of eager for her to have some independence.

She's gotten very good at hugs-- well at least for Chris and I. She regularly snuggles with us, which is more rewarding than words can say. This new attachment to us has resulted in a weariness of others. It takes a long time for her to warm up to anyone and even once she does, she is not interested in being picked up, held, or walked by anyone but Mom or Dad. It breaks my heart when she plays shy with her grandmas and her grandpa, but I am holding out hope that she will soon extend her affections beyond our little family.

That's the basics. Specific entries to follow.

Hats are Funny! (If You're One)

2010-03-06T10:13:00.002-06:00

Separating Mommy-me and Work-me hasn't been quite as hard as I thought it would be. That being said, there have been a few hiccups. For example:

A student handed me a pamphlet for some new shwanky bakery in town, "You should go there sometime. It's great!"

I was still holding it when two grade 12 students came up to me wanting to discuss an assignment. As they were talking, I instinctively took the pamphlet, opened it, and put it on my head, like a hat.

Both grade 12s gave me a puzzled look, but kept talking. I listened intently and nodded, which caused the pamphlet to wobble.

Student: "Uh... Ms. B? That's really distracting."

Realizing what he was talking about, I reached up and removed the pamphlet from my head.

Me: "That's because you're not one. If you were one, you would find that hilarious and want to try it yourself..."

Students: "?"

Me: "I'm sorry guys. I didn't even realize I had done it. When I'm at home, I put everything on my head because it makes Norah laugh. I guess I just forgot I wasn't at home and that not everyone is impressed by my skills of balance and creativity."

Students: "You mean you didn't do that on purpose?"

Me: "Sure didn't."

Students: (walk away laughing)

Me: "Oy."

Daycareitis

2010-03-02T17:40:00.000-06:00

Norah has been sick for a long time. She has one or two good days, and it is back to the low-grade fevers, snot bubbles, old-man-smoker's cough, vomiting, and subsequently, antibiotics.

In her little life, she has already had two chest x-rays, takes two inhalers twice daily, and has been on antibiotics four or five times. Her doctor, C, and I were all starting to suspect that there must be something more to this. We were referred to a pediatrician to investigate further.

When he came into the office, he asked typical questions, listened to her chest through her cries (she has a hate on for stethoscopes), and then weighed and measured her.

"She's a big girl."

"Yes, she is."

"She's the size of most 3 year-olds."

"Yup. I think she gets the height from my family."

"I think she was probably very healthy at the start of her life."

"Yes, I suppose she was."

"When was the first time she got sick like this?"

"This summer. At six months."

"And after that?"

"Not until the closer to the winter..."

"When did she start daycare?"

"January."

"How many kids are in her daycare?"

"Twelve her age-- she's at a centre."

"Oh, well two or three her age are more than enough to produce the germs that would be making her sick. I think she is a very healthy girl who has been exposed to a lot of germs she had not been before and until spring, until she has been expose to all these germs, she will continue to be sick."

"So, it has nothing to do with dairy or allergies?"

"No. Definitely not."

"So there's nothing we can do, but wait it out?"

"Yes. Come back in 6 months and I will check everything again, but I think she is fine."

So the good news is that we're not causing it somehow. The bad news is, there's no way for us to fix it.

Suggestions for home remedies for stuffy noses and congested chests welcome.

Forget American Idol, Norah's the next Simon Cowell

2010-03-02T17:31:00.000-06:00

Often, when Norah is fussing, I will sing to her-- ABC's, Itsy Bitsy Spider, Head and Shoulders, etc.-- to get her to calm down. The song we always resort to when she is fussing in the back seat of the car is Old McDonald. Usually, C and I do a duet, alternating who names the next animal.

This Sunday, there was a lot of car riding. Being on only four hours of sleep, I was not in the mood for sing-a-longs and so let Chris take care of it on his own. Unfortunately, his refusal to repeat animals and Norah's insistence for "more" and "more" led him down some strange roads. Ostrich? Ok, well, at least there is such a thing as an Ostrich farm, but Banker? Do you know what bankers on the farm say? Foreclose here, bankruptcy there...

At the end of the night, I was tired of Little Norah's alternative farm (I was cranky.) and took over the singing to get it back on a traditional track. Much to my surprise and dismay, as soon as Chris stopped singing and I started, Norah began wailing and signing for more. As soon as C picked back up, she calmed down and smiled.

Pinch Me

2010-02-18T20:29:00.002-06:00

Let me preface this by saying that Norah has had an incredible number of great nights as of late-- I'm talking 12 hour nights with one or no wake-ups.

We have a very solid bedtime routine around these parts. Bath, tooth brushing, p.j.'s and teething tablets, bottle, bed (with a recitation of Snuggle Puppy). There are few nights that are an exception. It normally works pretty well. Two nights ago, however, when we took away the toothbrush, Norah lost her cool. As we dressed her, her cries increased.

"She's not ready for bed." I told Chris. He was skeptical, but after more fussing in the rocking chair, he relented and we let her come out and play for a bit. Sure enough, after a while, she showed some sleepy signs and went down with little fuss.

Tonight, we put her in the bath much earlier than usual because her afternoon nap ended very early. She wasn't showing any sleepy signs and so I warned Chris, "If she's not interested in bed when we get her out, I'm not going to force it."

Sure enough, when we got her into her room, she didn't want to go to the change table to get her p.j.'s on. Instead, she figured some naked rocking in her rocking chair while reading a couple of board books was a better idea. We eventually got her dressed and I didn't even bother trying the bottle. I brought her out to the living room to play.

We played for 5 minutes or so when she gestured that she wanted to walk, so I offered my fingers. She got up to go and, much to my amazement, she headed for the hallway (normally it's a beeline for the dishwasher). She marched right past the bathroom and to her closed bedroom door. She pressed her hand against it to get me to open it. Once inside, she headed straight for her rocking chair. I thought that perhaps she just wanted to rock some more (she loves the swings they have at the Y and now understands she can affect momentum with her body weight). I put her in the rocking chair by herself and she pointed decisively to her bottle. I picked her up, plopped her on my lap, and she popped that bad-boy into her mouth. Chris said goodnight and turned out the lights. I whispered, "I'm not sure this is really happening." to him before he left.

When she had drained the bottle, she grabbed it from her mouth and threw it across the room. I put her to my shoulder and her head was down in no time at all. I rubbed her back for a minute, stood up, and placed her in he crib. I rubbed her back for a minute more and after mustering all the mettle I could, I removed my hand and darted from the room (with the speed, agility, and silence of a ninja, of course).

I sneaked a peek at the monitor once I was out, half expecting her to be sitting up laughing at our gullibility, but there she was, snoring away on her belly.

Can you even believe it? My girl. My formerly colicky, sleep-fighting girl put herself to bed. I am the luckiest mother alive.

The End?

2010-02-15T20:54:00.002-06:00

As one would suspect, being a working mom has left little time for hobbies [read: blogging]. I am presently trying to decide whether or not to attempt to maintain this blog or try to find another medium for keeping memories.

Because of the public nature of this blog, I feel pressure for my entries to be polished. When I know I don't have time to write something worthy of publishing, I write nothing at all. This all or nothing attitude has meant that I have missed capturing some pretty amazing memories in this, my only record of Norah's life so far.

I haven't made any final decisions and I think I am going to give it to the end of the month to make a decision-- see if I can't turn things around and make more of an effort (after all as I sit here writing this, I feel energized to continue and reminded of what I like about it).

Since I better give you something more than my own indecision to sink your teeth into, here are some snap shots of our life over the past few weeks.

C drops Norah off at daycare each morning and we take turns picking her up (well, now we do, since we bought a second car seat-- one that is much less expensive and easier to use than our Britax...). Even though she kicks with excitement each morning as she approaches, she still cries when Chris leaves. Fortunately, instead of the crying lasting hours like it did at our first care provider's, it lasts mere seconds. She loves playing with the other kids in her age group and visiting the bigger kids in the other programs. She goes for walks around the facility every day. She naps like a pro-- she goes down without fussing and more often than not her naps are 90 minutes or more. When I pick her up at the end of the day, she is totally nonchalant about my arrival and is often sad to leave. I couldn't be happier about her placement.

I wish her napping at home was going as well. That's not to say it's going poorly (certainly not on a relative scale), but it isn't as good as it used to be. If we don't catch her at exactly the right moment, she fusses for a long time before falling asleep--whether we stay with her or not. Gone are the days when she would play quietly until she closed her eyes.

We have also seen the effects of daycare in her movement. While I thought her crawling skills would improve ten-fold, instead, she now desires to "walk" everywhere. Since she hardly even cruises without toppling, it requires that we toddle with her hanging on tightly to our fingers. She only crawls when absolutely necessary and even then, would prefer to cry about not getting what she wants than getting it for herself. One majorly exciting side effect of this new found desire to get moving is that we can now play our own little version of tag, we affectionately refer to as "Getchu!" One parent helps her chase (or run away from) the other. The parent after whom Norah is chasing (or being chased by) uses exaggeratedly quick feet while traveling incredibly slow and says either, "I'm gonna get you! Getchu! Getchu! Getchu!" or "You're gonna get me! No way! No way! No way!" Eventually, the chaser gets the chasee and we all squeal. I'm pretty sure she pees her pants with excitement every time, but the diaper makes it hard to tell.

Like her feet, her nose runs pretty much constantly. We had another bout of antibiotics (actually two bouts) to get her over a sinus infection and pneumonia. She still vomits at least once a day-- either by gagging herself fishing around with her fingers or after coughing. It has slowed her progress in the solids department. We're still on yogurt for breakfast, rice cereal and veg purees for lunch (when she's home with us), and stage two meals for supper (small bits of food in purees).The doctors don't seem overly concerned. It's not like she's losing any weight!

Did I mention she's 2'9" and 30lbs 4 oz? Size 3 clothes are all that fit.

She now has 4 teeth on the bottom (two more popped up in the past month or so without us noticing). The back of her head is a mess of curls, which has both C and I pretty excited.

I think it's worth mentioning that her finger nails grow faster than I ever could have imagined. We're having to clip them a couple times a week. Even Norah notices. Our ritual is that we give her one pair of clippers so that she can pretend to cut Chris's nails while I work on her opposite hand. The other day, I casually mentioned to C that we needed "to clip her nails again" and Norah started flicking the finger tips of her left hand with her right making the "tst-tst" noise we make when she is pretending to cut our nails and then grabbed my hand and started pinching the nails on each of my fingers making the same sound.

She now says "nana" for banana (even though we rarely feed them to her in their whole state or talk about them-- they're usually mushed in her yogurt).

Most nights, she wakes once around 5 for a small bottle and returns to sleep, though more and more frequently, she is surprising us by only crying out and not waking until she's had a full 11-12 hours.

She continues to love reading. For her birthday, she received a farm animal book that makes sounds when you press on the animals. Though too much pressure is required for her little hands, she isn't shy about grabbing our hands and directing them to the animals she would most like to hear.

That's all I have for now. I hope it's enough to tide you over until my next entry...

Working Mama (aka Daycare Day One)

2010-01-28T18:54:00.005-06:00

I haven't been able to bring myself to write about daycare because I was feeling pretty sick about it. Today, though, I need to share.

As you know, after finding out that we were #168 on the YMCA's daycare list in September, we sought out a home daycare and after several interviews, we picked one and reserved Norah a spot. We worked out a plan to integrate Norah into the home at the start of January so that I could get some time to work and so that the process could be a slow one in case things didn't go well. Before we started her there, I was actually extremely excited for her to begin. I knew that she loved to socialize and that being around kids would be far more entertaining than my dog and pony show.

Well, things didn't go well. The first day I dropped her off, she did okay, but every day after that, she screamed the entire time I was gone (between 1-2 hours). It would take a significant period of soothing to calm her following her visits. When we approached the home, she would tense up and tighten her grip on my coat. Over the two week period we had her there, she changed. She became clingy and developed severe separation anxiety. I didn't want to be an over-protective mom. I kept telling myself it was normal and that she would get over it eventually, but it got to be too much. In spite of how little work I was able to get done, I started to keep her home.

When I started to take her to the Y, the integration process looked very different. I stayed and played with her for the 1-2 hour visits. I got to know every kid and every worker in the place. It was great. The women who worked there were so engaging and cared so much for the kids. The kids would turn to them when they needed comforting, laugh with them when they played, and look to them when they needed or wanted something. The women clearly knew the kids as well as any parent, commenting on their nuances and interpreting their grunts and gestures. It was a very relaxed atmosphere where everyone's needs were being met.

In spite of my presence, it was as if Norah knew the real purpose of the place and the first few visits, she wouldn't leave my lap. During visits 3 and 4, she got a little more adventurous and would allow me to be 3 or 4 feet away, but no further. We hoped that eventually I would be able to put her down for a nap there or maybe even leave for a while to get her accustomed to the routines.

But then Norah got sick. It started as a cold and turned into a sinus infection. The sinus infection led to pneumonia and she was out for a week. The illness further compounded her clingy-ness and we reached a point where she would refuse to be with Chris if I were in the room and had to come with me when I went to the bathroom. Needless to say, the anxiety building was immense. The hole in my stomach grew by the day.

Yesterday was my first and last opportunity to return with her before I went back to work. I had no idea how she would react, having been away for so long and still feeling under the weather. To my delight, she began exploring the territory outside my reach within the first 5 minutes. She interacted with the other kids and let me move around freely without reaching for or chasing after me. At one point, the women working there had her so distracted that I was able to leave, pay our balance and sign some papers. I was gone for about 10 minutes. When I returned, she was playing on the mats with one of the workers. She looked up at me and continued to play. I sat across the room from her and let her carry on until we had to leave. A glimmer of hope returned.

Today, both Chris and I went to drop her off. We took her in, organized her things, and took off her coat and boots. She sat down to play without any reservations. In a moment when her back was turned, Chris ushered me out the door. I think she saw us leaving out the corner of her eye, but there was no going back. We snuck past the window in the door and went to work.

Work didn't feel like work. It felt like home. I have a special relationship with my school since it was the school I attended as a student, the school I volunteered at after I graduated, and the school I interned at in university. I was so energized by my interactions with staff. Back in my old classroom, it just felt like I belonged there.

I didn't get much work done, but I reconnected with many staff members. In the afternoon, both Chris and I had to attend a session at the Board Office. During our break, I urged him to call and check up on Norah, but he reasoned that there was nothing we could do if things weren't going well and so why stress about it? I conceded.

At the end of the day, we went to pick her up together. We let ourselves into the centre and discovered her quietly playing with one of the workers.

"She did so well!" They beamed as Norah nonchalantly acknowledged our presence and went back to playing.

"She didn't cry at all and when she was getting a bit sad, she would put up her arms to be picked up by us!"

"Good. I'm so glad!" And I was, but I still had to ask, "Were you able to get her to sleep?" My heart sinking a little in anticipation of their answer.

"Yup. She napped for 45 minutes. S just put her in the crib, rubbed her back, and talked with her until she fell asleep-- it's all here on her sheet."

They handed me a summary of her day-- number of diapers wet and dirtied, number of bottles, types of food offered and quantity consumed, duration of nap, and activities she engaged in.

I wanted to cry for all the right reasons. I thanked the workers profusely, bundled Norah up, and took her home.

Until today, there was a part of me that questioned whether or not returning to work was the right idea-- that wondered if I was forsaking my duties as a mother for selfish reasons. I had even briefly considered how long it might take for me to get my ECE so that I could go work for the Y should there be an opening just so I could be close to her and still make a little money. But seeing Norah today-- playing contentedly, actively engaged, and bursting with gibberish stories upon our arrival-- I know I'm doing the right thing.

And it feels good.

The Incredible Ms. Norah

2010-01-24T19:58:00.005-06:00

Though you wouldn't know it by reading my blog lately*, Norah amazes me daily. These little moments mean big things and I'm scared I'm going to forget them all, so here is the first installment of Impressive Things My Child Can Do.

1. Hold two things in one hand. This has been her favourite trick for a while, months even, but the objects she attempts it with get more impressive all the time. A block and a ball, a book and a cup-- whatever she can get a hold of, she will surely try to couple it with something else.

2. Recognize body parts. Both her own and those of others (other people and animals-- real and stuffed). She'll point to noses, eyes, ears, and heads when she's in the mood. When you command, "Hand." she will give you her hands-- first one and then the other-- to be washed or inserted into a sleeve (sure to pass an object from one to the other to complete the given task without putting it down), and "Toes." she will raise up her feet-- first one and then the other-- to be socked or shoed or scrubbed.

3. Sign. There haven't been many, but "milk" has been around for a bit. Waving makes her very proud, and she does it to everyone as we tour the grocery store or drive through the city. We just discovered she has been trying to say "more" for some time by pointing with her index finger into the palm of the other hand. More playing, more food-- it's great!

4. Dance. She loves music and she loves to rock to the beat. Tonight, we were watching Glee and she stopped all playing to shake it to "Gold Digger." It was awesome.

5. Recognize a tune. During this evening's pre-bed bath, I was serenading her with some standards and when I started singing "London Bridge," she started smiling proudly and patting her head. It was so purposeful, I stopped mid-song to figure out what was going on. It took a minute, but I got it and started over, this time with "Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes."

6. Crawl. It hasn't been long, but she's making really good progress. Today, as we played fetch with Michael (one of my cats), she would excitedly follow him whichever direction we threw his toy, making it about half as far as he did before he turned around. Once he was coming back, she would sit and wait for him until he passed, and then follow him back to us only to do it all over again a dozen times. Her poor knees were all read from the bamboo and tile, but she didn't seem to notice.

7. Employ fine motor skills and visual spatial intelligence. Gross motor may not be her thing, but when she manages to stuff her bottle back into its pocket on the side of the diaper bag, repeatedly puts the green ball or purple cross through the correct spot in the shape sorters (even when she tries the triangle right after without success), it boggles my mind. My mind was totally blown tonight, though, when in the bath she removed one cup from the holder on her spout and replaced it with another that would not fit inside the first and then put the first inside the second. She's had some haphazard success with this with her stacking cups, but never has she been so positive of the order.

8. Verbalize. Grandma taught her to meow like a kitty. When I say, "Who am I?" she replies, "Mumum" (we're pretty sure that when Chris asks the same question and she gives the same reply that she is actually playing a very funny joke and not just giving a reflexive response). Since we hung balloons yesterday afternoon, she now says, "Buh!" every time she sees one. When she spies one of the cats, she excitedly aspirates "Tstitsee."

9. Figure stuff out. For Christmas, Norah got the They Might Be Giants Here Comes Science dvd. The music is awesome and so are the videos with their spectacular animation. Only when we are really desperate do we actually turn on the t.v. (it's almost creepy the way it mesmerizes her and completely monopolizes her attention). Most often, we let just the sound play. However, following yesterday's Norah's-tired-because-she-wouldn't-nap-during-her-birthday-party-plus-she's-running-a-slight-fever-from-her-sinus-infection-but-the-antibiotics-haven't-kicked-in-yet-and-the-Advil-has-worn-off-but-we-don't-want-to-give-her-more-until-bedtime-so-let's-turn-on-the-t.v.-so-the-whining-will-stop meltdown, she figured out the trick to getting the picture back when we take it away. Simply crawl to the t.v. and push the button. Duh.

10. Tell stories. A few weeks ago, when I got out of bed and came to join C and N in the living room, she saw me, waved, and then started babbling and pointing. C watched her, puzzled and then realized that her pointing replicated the order of their play. She had pointed to her train and then off to the corner between the couches where it had rolled, out of her reach (this was B.C.-- Before Crawling). She then pointed at her dad and back at the train. He had gotten it for her. She's done this a few times since then, but never has the story been so clear.

*I realize that acknowledging the lack of posts does nothing to pardon the lack of posts, but I feel the need to comment on it. I'm pretty fatigued as of late-- with just about everything including blogging. I haven't even been able to bring myself to write an entire post about why I'm not posting. Once this period of upheaval and transition is over, I'm sure I will be inspired more often, though I'm also sure I will never have the time to write with the same frequency and gusto as I did in the beginning... well, at least not until I'm on maternity leave again..

Happy Birthday to You! (My Crawling Machine!)

2010-01-21T20:22:00.003-06:00

Well, Nori, you did it. We did it. Here you are, one year old, getting more and more amazing everyday.

Throughout the day today (beginning at 4 a.m. as I tried to rock you to sleep, your stuffy nose making it almost impossible to breathe), I took time to remember just what was happening exactly one year ago. While it is impossible to believe that so much time has passed, it is equally difficult to remember a time before you.

As you rested your weary head on my shoulder, limp body sprawled and dangling off mine in the rocking chair, I remembered the massages your dad and our doula, Karen, were giving me to keep me relaxed nearly twelve hours in.

As I tried to feed you breakfast, I remembered asking for the epidural and wondering if I was failing my first test of motherhood.

As the doctor told me your height and weight (2'9" and 30lbs 4oz), I remembered closing my eyes and resting for the first time since labour had begun.

As we toured Safeway, waiting for your prescription (Happy Birthday! You have a sinus infection!) and even through the fog of your pain and congestion you managed a wave and a smile for every other shopper, I remembered your dad and Karen lying to me, telling me that more pain medication was coming as I madly clicked to increase my epidural, when in fact I had maxed out my allowance.

As we danced to They Might Be Giants and you crawled around after toys and then into my lap for a snuggle, I remembered the worry that I might end up having a c-section after all and then the relief when the nurse told me my water had broken.

As you splashed in the bath and kept trying to drink the water, I remembered the look on your dad's face as he saw you arrive, the doctor's impatience wanting to cut the cord, you nursing for the first time, all your goo and poo all over me and me not caring.

As I kissed you good night and left you and your dad in the darkened room with your bottle gently rocking to sleep, I remembered holding all 9 lbs of you in my arms all swaddled and squinty. I remembered your perfection.

As I write this now, part of me wishes I could go pick you up, swaddle you tight, and bring you to bed with us, but another part of me knows that all I have to do is blink and you will be crawling out of your big girl bed and into ours after a bad dream.

I love you, Nori. Thank you for this year and for all the adventures to come. Happy birthday, my sweet [not so] baby girl!

Happy Mamaversary to Me!

2010-01-21T19:49:00.006-06:00

Thanks for the title, Risa.

There was a time in my life when waking up smelling of someone else's vomit might have been the markings of one hell of a party. This Tuesday, however, it was simply a reminder that I am a parent.

Norah had been stuffed up for a few days and on Tuesday, the congestion was so bad that her mucus triggered her gag reflex and she vomited-- twice in her bed and at least twice on me (my recollection is hazy). We went through 3 sleepers, a shirt, five towels, two bed sheets, and one set of my own pyjamas in just one short hour. In the morning, her room basically had to be hosed down with my lemon-tea tree oil disinfectant so that we got every little splatter of odor.

I used to be one of those people who nearly threw up when the topic of vomit was discussed. I was grossed out by the ideas of snot and pee and poop and any other topics that are considered impolite dinner conversation. My personal list of Nevers was long. I will never wipe my child's face using my own saliva, for example. I thought if poo got on me I might spontaneously-combust. I was also under the impression that sleep was necessary and that "cute" was at least AS important as functional.

In short, I was a stereotypical non-parent. Norah changed all that. Now I'm definitely a stereotypical novice parent (of course, having already passed my course in stereotypical new parenting). What does that mean? Well, basically, if you are a non-parent, be prepared to suffer through me punctuating my gruesome tales of parenthood with reassurances that it is the best thing ever. If you are a new parent, be prepared for plenty of unsolicited advice and to watch me bite my tongue but have a hard time hiding the, "Just you wait. You will learn." look in my eyes when I hear you sounding like I once did. If you are a novice parent, we will exchange knowing glances, laugh at our former selves the way high-schoolers do at their elementary years, and be honest with one another in a way we weren't confident enough to before. If you are a seasoned parent, with more than one kid or at least a few years under your belt, be prepared for me to ask you tons of questions and for me not to "get" all the wisdom you have to share.

But that isn't the only way I have changed. Norah has opened my heart in such a way that it can ache so bad I think it will surely kill me. She has made me appreciate life and be more present in it than ever before. Because of her, my concept of what is and is not important has altered dramatically. Her existence has both challenged and subsequently strengthened my relationship with C. Her laughter, her cries, her needs, and her accomplishments have brought a light into our lives that has shone in our darkest times. She has made me a better, less selfish person.

I am so incredibly lucky. What a gift.

[Crawling] Dreams Really Do Come True (they sometimes just take a while)

2010-01-12T16:03:00.002-06:00

Yes. It's true. Norah can crawl.

I would say my fears were wasted energy and laugh at how silly I was to really believe that my daughter would need to be carried from location to location for the rest of her life. I would say that if those very same "silly" fears were not the very same fears that drove me to encourage Norah's gross motor skills on a daily basis until she did, in fact, crawl. So instead, I am going to thank my fear and credit it with Norah's new found mobility.

I'm joking. Sort of. Well, just a little.

It happened on Sunday, January 10, in the late afternoon. It was just a regular day and I decided she needed her daily dose of phone baiting.

You see, Norah loves our cordless phones. She loves to push the buttons. She loves to hold it to her ear. She loves to hand them to us and eavesdrop on our nonsensical conversations. She loves them so much because we rarely let her play with them. The more forbidden, the more tempting the fruit, yes?

So many moons ago, we began putting a phone just out of her reach while she played. At first, it wasn't far at all and diving onto her stomach was all it took to get it into her grubby little hands. Then, we started to make it more challenging. This frustrated her, of course, and we would eventually have to "help" her crawl to it. But on this particular Sunday, I could see she was putting in a bit more effort than usual and instead of pushing only with the one side, as she usually did (causing her to sit up), I saw her push with one leg and then with the other.

That was it. I cheered and made Chris come watch. She did it again. Just two little shimmies and she was there. It was beautiful. I cried.

We took her to my parents for supper and she showed off her new skill (we had to use their portable phone to get her to do it).

Today, she is crawling at least half a dozen steps at a time, though she doesn't often remember her newly discovered power which is buying me some time to get my baby-proofing ducks in a row.

She did manage to get a hold of our fancy camera today when I wasn't looking. Apparently the floor no longer counts as storage space...

So much good news in such a short period of time. Life is good.

[Sleeping and Eating] Dreams Really Do Come True, Too!

2010-01-11T13:06:00.003-06:00

As you know, Norah's gag reflex was so bad it was causing her to vomit (particularly in public eateries...). Not being able to eat solids severely limits a child's food options. Toast continued to be a staple in our quest to cure her of this reflex, as did Baby MumMums and plain rice cakes. Every day or two, I would muster all my courage and offer her something new.

One particular day, it was beef stew. I gave her pieces of all the parts- beef, onion, carrots, peas, and corn. She gulped back a few peas, no problem. Then, she grabbed a gravy laden piece of beef, mashed it around, between her gums, dry heaved slightly and swallowed. The carrots and corn weren't a great hit until I started scooping a mixture off her tray, onto a spoon and feeding it to her. She loved it so much, she would pick up pieces and rather than delivering them to her mouth, she would drop them on the spoon and then let me feed her. She even thought I should try and started hand feeding me bits. It was glorious.

Progress slowed again after that, but this past week or two has seen her master chicken fried rice, scrambled eggs, chickpea stew, and French Toast, among other things. She rarely gags. When she does, often she is pretending so that we will get her water (because that's much easier than, say, learning the sign I have been signing at her for 7 months...). The rest of the time, she manages to stick her own fingers in her mouth to move the food to a more comfortable spot.

We've also been able to get her to eat greater quantities of real food lately (which was another concern-- excuse me, Mrs. Kindergarten Teacher? Could you please make sure Norah gets a bottle of formula at recess? She doesn't get enough nutrients from her food). We give her her own spoon and bowl (filled with dry food-- toast or whatever) and that keeps her occupied enough to keep her mouth opening when my spoon arrives.

Like food, sleep has become a lot less of an issue. It's definitely not perfect, but it's just about a close as any parent could hope for. Norah's bedtime is fairly regular, between 8:00-8:30. Many nights, she has sleeps for 10-11 hours straight and most times she goes back down after a diaper change and a quick feeding. She hasn't been up before 6:00 in eons (knock on wood) and often sleeps past 7:00. Though she fusses periodically through the night, she rarely actually wakes. If she does wake, sometimes soothing is all she needs. When she wakes in the morning, she is happy, energetic, and talkative.

As far as naps go, she's been on two a day for a while now. It can still take her upwards of 30 minutes to fall asleep if I mis-time it, but generally she plays, chats, and doesn't complain a whole lot before lying down on her belly and closing her eyes. She's quite fun to watch on the monitor. Our favourite time was when she got a hold of the AC adapter cord for the camera of the video monitor. She was swinging it and pulling on it, all the while giving us a dizzy show. (Yes, we went in and put it out of her reach).

Things are pretty sweet right now, and I'm trying to enjoy every minute.

[Daycare] Dreams Really Do Come True

2010-01-11T08:35:00.005-06:00

Sorry for proroguing my blog this winter. I'll admit, I just didn't have the energy to deal. And it's not like I was hiding from allegations of torture or anything...

Enough with the politics. So much to write about (finally!). Where to begin?

Norah started at daycare last Wednesday. I dropped her off at the home daycare we chose in mid-September. It was a complete non-event. The childcare provider scooped her up and took her to play with the other kids and I left-- no goodbyes, no tears. Well, until I got in the car. And even then my eyes had stopped burning by the time I got home.

I used the time to clean my house. Before I knew it, the two hours were up. I went and picked her up. The report was good: "She didn't fuss at all."

The next day, I dropped her off and squeezed a good-bye in before I left. I had left a bottle for her to drink there so she could get used to the idea of eating someplace else and being fed by someone else. Unfortunately, she did not take to that idea, so by the time I got back, two hours later, she still had not eaten it and I could hear her crying as I came up the walk. She calmed as soon as I took her and when we got home, she voraciously ate a bottle and went to sleep.

Both mornings she had extra long naps and when she woke, she was talking up a storm. Clearly played out.

Friday, I took her in and stuck around for a bit. I was scheduled to pick Chris up at lunch and was running early. The reason for our lunch date?

Well, you see, we got a call from the YMCA childcare program, informing us that they had a spot for Norah as of February 1st. My feelings were mixed-- on one hand I was elated: our first choice childcare provider came through! On the other, I was annoyed: Norah was already making the transition to another daycare-- one we had already paid close to $2000 to hold her spot and have her attend the month of January. I know that's irrational. We did what we had to do given the information we had at the time (that we were #168 on the Y's wait list and it was highly unlikely we would get a spot).

Suddenly, we were back in the throws of deciding what would be better for our child (chequebook be damned!). Home daycares can provide a very mellow, warm, comfortable place for children to grow. No pressure. Kids of all ages from whom they can learn by watching and playing and one caregiver with whom they can establish a special relationship. Home daycares can also be a little too laid back sometimes, with no guarantees about how much time your child will spend in front of the TV, the kinds of food they will eat, or how often they will be physically active or actively engaged.

Daycare centres can provide lower ratios, a more structured day, a bit more peace of mind in terms of accountability, and in the case of the Y, a guarantee that all of our future children would have care and I would never have to worry about this issue again. But, they can also be too regimented at too young an age. Children have multiple care providers and so may not bond as deeply or as quickly and often the centres themselves are sterile and cold.

I tried finding reviews of the Y online and came up empty handed. We decided, instead, to just pop by and see it for ourselves. Hence my lunch date with Chris.

The director of the Y (who we felt we knew from all of our phone calls to see how far we had inched up the list) came out to greet us and then took us to the infant care centre. As we walked through the halls, she greeted several children by name. When we arrived in the playroom-- a large room, divided into smaller areas by low wooden shelving and tidily filled with books and toys-- many of the children were being rocked and bottle-fed to sleep by one of the many caregivers in the room. They have a 3-1 ratio for babies up to 18 months. They also have a policy that they cannot leave children awake at nap time. They must stay with them-- soothing, rocking-- until they are asleep. Wow.

As we moved to the nursery, the director greeted more children by name. As we walked into the dim sleep area lined with cribs and floor mats, I noticed the familiar sound of white noise. They use it to dampen the noise of play from the other room because babies determine their own schedules. If they need to nap, they nap. If they nap through lunch, they are fed whenever they get up. No problem. Really?

Next was the kitchen. Twelve high chairs and a small table with tiny chairs around it lined the room. The menu is planned by a dietitian. As babies get older, they transition them to eating at a table so that they can join the toddlers when they are ready. If no toddler spot is available at 18 months, they stay in infant care for up to two more months.

She then took us from the youngest to the oldest. We went to see the kindergartner's room. They were lining up to head for the bus that would take them to one of four schools (parents' choice). The ratio at this age group (beginning at pre-school) is 10-1. Again, the director called the children by names. It was here that we began to hear about the centre's Reggio Emilia philosophy. There are constantly multiple themes being explored by children, driven by their own curiosity. They make any and all decisions that they are equipped to make-- what ideas they will be exploring, with which care providers they will be spending their time, etc. They are encouraged to learn about the arts and sciences through play. Their environment mimics a kindergarten room in many respects-- with art supplies left out so that they can colour and craft when they desire-- but has a cozier feel with its natural wood finishes and various smaller nooks delineated by the furniture. I inquired about staff supervision and for every age group, there is a staff supervisor who acts as the eyes and ears of the director, but she also makes the rounds as many times as she can in a day (clearly. How else would she know every kid by name?).

We then heard about the field trips kids take. The infants go for walks outside in strollers whenever the weather permits. The toddlers go play at the park and get outside for activities whenever they can. The preschoolers take bus rides, go to the museum, pet stores, and the like. Even throughout regular days, they have the run of the facilities and so they often head to the gym to play or use other rooms for learn about different things There is never a dull moment for these kids.

The toddler room was massive, but again, wooden structures broke it up into smaller areas. The ratio from 18-30 months is 5-1. However, the staff recognize that there is nothing magical about that 29th month that prepares them to move to a 10-1 ratio and so there is a lengthy transition practice in place. Crafts lined the walls. The director pointed out some remaining plastic chairs which are being phased out over the next 2.5 years as they complete their transition to Reggio Emilia. Again, it was nap time, so those who weren't playing quietly, were sacked out on comfy mats on the floor. The care providers were tidying. One walked past who I recognized, but it was a minute before I could put a name to a face. I taught her in my internship. She was new to Canada and we had worked very closely to help her English skills develop. I was so happy to know that she had found such great work. It must be great, considering when I asked about staff turn-over the reply was that each year they have one or two new employees, usually because of maternity leaves or an employee moves away.

The preschool room was much the same-- massive with wooden structures and levels. The kids were all going to sleep-- all 40 of them! Caregivers sat rubbing backs or whispering quietly to those who needed it. We saw an example of the kind of descriptive narrative documentation that is provided for each child a couple of times a week-- detailing the activities in which they engaged and what they learned. It was a page long, single spaced, 10 pt. font, in proper paragraph form (be still my English teaching heart).

As we made our way back to the director's office, passing more artwork done by the kids in the public hallways of the place, we bumped into several people we knew. They worked there or worked out there and everything just felt so familiar. So right. We collected the paperwork and were informed that later in the month I could start bringing Norah in and play with her there for an hour or two she she becomes accustomed to the place and the people.

I could not have imagined a better place for Norah and I am beyond excited for her to attend.

When I arrived to pick Norah up on Friday, she was a mess. An absolute mess. I asked to speak to her daycare provider (as all the kids were down for quiet time) so that I could tell her our situation. It wasn't easy, but she was incredibly understanding. The whole time we chatted, Norah, while calmer than when I arrived, still gulped for air periodically as kids do after a long cry.

I decided to hold off on getting her to nap there. The only issue is that there are two days in January where I have to be back at work full time and she will have to be there the whole day. I was and still am holding out hope that she will get used to being away from me sooner rather than later, but this morning, she was crying before I even walked out the door. So of course, I cried the whole way home and as I write this, it's starting again. I just wish this didn't have to be such a tumultuous time for her. If I knew she was staying where she was, it wouldn't be so bad, but knowing she has another HUGE change to go through this month is making my heart ache for her.

I keeping my eye on the big picture, though. Norah is going to learn that she will be okay when I am not there and that I always come back. Plus, I still have more than two weeks where I get to spend extended periods with my girl.

Make that a Non-Fat Formula Latte...

2010-01-05T11:02:00.005-06:00

When I was pregnant, I made no qualms about wanting a girl. It's not that I would have been unhappy with a boy or loved him any less, just that in my ideal world, I would have a little girl to whom I could pass on all I know about moving through this world with two x chromosomes*.

No doubt there are challenges to raising both genders in this world. Traditional gender roles imposed on kids from such a young age can be equally debilitating. Females, however, get the short end of the stick twice. Where boys who fit into traditional definitions of gender are rewarded greatly socially and economically and it is those who do not who are punished, girls are at a disadvantage either way. If they fit the traditional definition, they are objectified and treated as inferior in terms of intelligence, work ethic, etc.. If they don't, they are considered bitchy and butch-- simply male-wannabes.

I will admit it, it is easy, through the course of my day, to passively parent, to overlook the harmful messages my daughter might be absorbing through the toys, clothing, media, and social interactions she encounters. It is something I want to get better at-- being critical and helping Norah to do the same (yes, I realize she is not even one, but it's never to early to be a feminist). But one thing that alerted me to just how crazy ridiculous this world is when it comes to girls was when I was trying to put her in a new pair of jeans I had purchased for her.

Jeans are a tricky one around here. Because of her size, Norah can only wear them when she is wearing disposables and even then, they are often too tight and restrictive. This new pair is size two. I knew they would be too long, but they were stretchier than most in the waist.

As I was putting her in them, I found it almost impossible to get her feet through the leg and found it nearly impossible to cuff them once they were on. That's when I realized it: I had inadvertently purchased my eleven month old Skinny Jeans.

Seriously?

First of all, the term "skinny" being applied to adult fashions is bad enough. But using it for baby fashions as some sort of desirable goal is down right disturbing. Really? My baby should be thin enough for this trend? Perhaps she should skip that afternoon bottle to lose a roll or two in her thighs for the sake of a trend? What's next? Baby Kate Moss on Treehouse? It seems like when Saturday Night Live created their satirical commercial for Huggies thongs, they weren't that far off.

Yes. I know Norah does not know they are skinny jeans. It's the principle, people. In the same way that Boyrfriend Jeans for toddlers are beyond creepy.

I have never been a fan of foisting heteronormative values on little kids by asking them if they have a boyfriend or girlfriend, but it is so prevalent in our society. So much so, that even Ellen does it to her child guests. Trying to teach kids that having a romantic relationship with someone of the opposite sex is desirable at any age, especially such a young one? You should know better, Ellen.

I was really hoping that by the time I had kids, that the world would have changed enough that they could grow up unencumbered by outdated expectations based on sex, race, ability, etc., etc., etc.. I know that things are changing, but I'm not always sure we are taking steps in the right direction.

And this is only the beginning. Oy.

*Now that I have one, I wouldn't mind a boy to whom I could pass on that same wisdom so that he treats all women in his life with due respect.

Baby's First Christmas(es)

2009-12-27T11:01:00.006-06:00

When I was a kid, Christmas was a singular event. Christmas Eve involved a big supper and church. We hardly got any sleep as we waited for Christmas morning (though we always managed to doze before Santa arrived) and then we would open gifts. On years we considered lucky, we got to open presents after midnight mass instead of waiting for morning.

See, when it came to celebrating the holidays, it was always just us five-- Mom, Dad, and my two brothers. If we traveled to see family, all the same things transpired, just at someone else's house. I never knew I was missing anything.

Since Chris and I started dating, Christmas has been an incredibly plural event. Lunch with his Dad's extended family, a day out at the farm to open gifts, supper and gift opening with my parents and brothers and their families, lunch with his mom's extended family, and brunch his sisters and mom. It's a lot, especially for a girl who used to celebrate Christmas only once. I now understand why it is referred to as a season.

Prior to Norah's birth, all these events packed into so few days could seem very overwhelming and complicated. The logistics of it all were frustrating as we never seemed to get enough time with any one family. This tradition or that, with which we had grown up, had to be cut short so we could move on to the next place.

This year, things were different in a number of ways.

We went out to the farm on the 19th. Forgotten presents and a hungry girl delayed us and we didn't arrive until 4:45. We didn't know Church had been changed to 5:00 to accommodate the Christmas play the cousins and other community members were putting on, so we passed Chris's step-mom, Faye, on her way to the service. We used the time to feed Norah and let her play with her cousins Vincent and Edith, Chris's older sister, Naomi, and her husband, Dan. At six, we headed to the hall for the potluck supper and play. Faye took Norah to show off for a while and Norah was such a ham-- smiling and waving to everyone whose eye she caught. Supper was delicious (as small town potlucks are apt to be), though I didn't get many mashed potatoes. Somebody ate them all right off my plate. I won't name names, but it starts with an "N" and rhymes with fedora.

The play was a lot of fun to watch. Norah even added her own comic relief to a scene when, while sitting on a plywood table, she let a few giant farts rip. They were amplified by the surface and I couldn't help but crack up. The play ended at 8:30 and so we were able to stay for Santa's arrival and get a little more visiting in before packing her into the car at 9:00. Keeping her on BC time really paid off.

We had Christmas Eve lunch with Chris's maternal grandmother, his Aunt from B.C. and Ant Kate who is in from Montreal. It was a very laid back way for Norah to learn about opening gifts. We got a ton of visiting in because it was just the six of us.

Later that afternoon, Laura (my mother-in-law) and her husband Michael arrived from Hawaii. After they settled in and unpacked their things where they were staying, they joined us at our place with Ant Kate for DIY pizza followed by dainties I had baked with my mom on the 23rd. Again, Norah got some quality time in with all parties and we were able just to sit back and relax.

Christmas day had a slow start for us, but by 1:00, we were at one of Chris's aunt's for the extended family shindig. His grandmother, all his aunts, their husbands, and most of their kids (many of whom with kids of their own) were there. We met a couple second cousins for the first time. The third and fourth generations found themselves in the upstairs living/playroom while the little ones kept busy. Norah loved watching her cousins play and enjoyed showing off for the older ones. Papa Paul's absence was palpable, but being around the rest of the crew helped to make it bearable.

We made it to my parents' in time for Norah's second nap. This enabled us to get some quality adult visiting in. She woke in time to play a bit with her cousins before supper. Norah thoroughly enjoyed her turkey/potato/corn/gravy mush.

After supper, we changed her into her PJs and went downstairs to open gifts. There was a ton of commotion as the four kids all tore into their presents, but Norah handled it like a pro. She was equally excited by the paper as she was with the clothes and toys inside.

8:00 rolled around, and we packed her up to head home. She made it without falling asleep, evidence of her increasing maturity, and we were able to bottle her and let her fall asleep on her own. Ant Kate joined us after Norah went to bed and we visited late into the evening (it was past 11:00 when we went to bed!).

On Boxing Day, Norah slept until 7:30 (waking a couple times in the night, but going right back to sleep after a feed). Chris got up with her and let me sleep in. Unfortunately for Ant Kate, sleeping in was not so easy with Norah's morning ululations and no white noise to combat it. She called the house phone from her cell and ordered coffee from room-service. She probably wanted to ask for a refund on her room, but the suites here at Chateau BB are pretty cheap. When I did get out of bed, I began to prepare a couple of crustless quiches for the brunch we were hosting only to discover we had not picked up eggs at the grocery store. Luckily Sobe's was open and so Chris made a morning grocery run.

The rest of the morning consisted of eating (the quiche, which turned out great, saskatoon berry muffins, and fruit salad) and the kids opening gifts. Norah received her first xylophone, some beautiful knitted pieces, and this sweet They Might Be Giants DVD/CD combo Here Comes Science.

Norah loved all the busyness-- seeing new and familiar faces, going new places-- and we were happy to sit back and just count all the people who love our little girl so much. She is very lucky.

Happy 2010!

Months 10 & 11 - Same Same

2009-12-22T10:38:00.004-06:00

Two posts in two days? What did you do to deserve this honour?

Honestly, I would apologize for not writing more but there really hasn't been much to write about so you should probably thank me for not trying to make something out of nothing for the sake of an entry.

So as not to be accused of total baby blog neglect, I thought I better give you the regular monthly birthday update (how on earth did I miss last month?).

Sleeping: Norah slept better when we were away than she has her entire life. Since returning home, we have kept her on her BC schedule with a 9:00 bedtime. Unfortunately, she has not maintained her 10 hours of uninterrupted sleep or late sleep-ins. This morning she was up for the day by 7:20, which is awesome until you consider that this is the equivalent of going to bed at 7:00 and waking at 5:20, which is what she was doing before I left. I have also returned to breastfeeding her when she wakes too early in order to get her to return to sleep which means that I am often up twice between 5:00 a.m. and her wake up to nurse for 10-15 minutes. We will try a slightly earlier bedtime tonight to see what that does.

Eating: She continues to have a very sensitive gag reflex. We tried offering her well cooked bits of carrot last night and she vomited all over Chris. On with the purees. This isn't a problem for me, I'm just concerned about when she heads off to daycare... On a positive note, she is far from fussy and so long as we catch her at the right time, she will eat almost anything we offer her. I am going to start weaning her from formula to milk this month-- a half ounce at a time-- and once that transition is complete, I will wean her off the bottle. I haven't made any decisions as to when I am going to wean off the breast entirely. I may keep a morning and evening nurse for a while yet.

Playing: While in Victoria, Norah was introduced to a whole new world of toys. She fell madly in love with three of them: the Playskool Busy Ball Choo Choo, the Bruin Deluxe Activity Walker, and the Little Superstar Sing Along Stage. I never thought I would be so into toys, but when it is just her and I at home and the cold wind is keeping us inside, we need something to occupy us. So, two days after we arrived home, I bought her the train. She uses it primarily as a radio at present, rocking out to its various tunes. And by rocking out I mean sitting on the floor and rocking her pelvis to the beat. I was looking at the walker, but wasn't willing to drop the $50 for it. Instead I called my mom to see if she had bought Norah's Christmas present yet and she hadn't so I picked it up and delivered it to my mom to be wrapped. My mother was happy not to have to shop and Norah will be pleased with what she opens up in a couple days. Win/Win. The Sing Along Stage can only be ordered off Amazon at present and is incredibly expensive so she will not be acquiring one. I don't think she'll notice. Other than her new toys, her favourite game at present is "No Eating." The premise is simple. She tries to put something into her mouth that she is not supposed to and we say, "No eating!" She smiles and does it again. The cord to the blinds that came with the house is bad enough, but her favourite item to "No Eat" is Michael, the cat. She makes a pretty funny face when she gets a mouth full of hair. Gross.

Skills and Talents: No. She's not crawling. She's leaning and rolling (though usually only back and forth the same way). No crawling. She recently started spinning in circles on her bum when on hardwood or tile. But no crawling. She pulls up to her knees but can't seem to figure how to get her feet under her, though if you stand her against something tall enough, she can stand and play for extended periods. She can clap and wave. She understands "in" and "out" and likes to put things in other things (socks in her train, toast in my mouth, toys in the kleenex box, etc.). Putting two things in one hand is one of her favourite tricks. "Look! One hand! Two cups! One hand! Two balls! One hand! Two hangers!" (and yes, I realize that any reference to balls is probably making those of you without kids titter like tweens, but ball references are unavoidable once you have kids and their balls are everywhere. Big balls, small balls, red balls, blue balls. Balls.) She can sit up from crawling position but can't seem to get into crawling position from her stomach. I found her sitting in bed the other day, but she hasn't replicated that trick. Her little hands try to mimic the Itsy Bitsy Spider motions and she sings along (out of tune, mind you, but she gets that from her Dad) when we sing "This is the Way We Wash Our Hands" after meals. And still, no crawling. Yes. I know I'm lucky that my baby's gross motor skills are delayed and that I don't have to worry about her getting into stuff. I just hope she feels just as lucky when she gets a Needs Improvement in kindergarten Phys. Ed. because she just sits on her bum and spins in circles.

All I have to say is that next month's update better be titled "Happy Birthday Crawling Machine!"

Go West: The Third and Final Installment

2009-12-21T10:30:00.010-06:00

So I figured I better get this out before it all escaped my memory...

So it seems I have a big city girl on my hands. While in Vancouver, there weren't a whole ton of toys for her to play with or other kids with whom to interact. What was able to distract my girl was sitting and staring out Jena's tenth floor apartment windows at the amazing view. Busy streets, office workers, various birds, water, mountains, sky-- she was mesmerized. She waved incessantly at all there was to see. Hello world! I'm Norah and I can't wait to get to know you better. The view of our quiet street pales in comparison. I wonder how long I am going to be able to hold onto her before she leaves our sleepy city for bigger and better things...

Auntie Jena and her view...

Norah also loved the ferry. I was a little concerned about how she would handle the journey, but early in the trip, we found the play area. I parked her on the carpeted floor, handed her some snacks and let her watch the other four kids running around. It was like she was at the best movie in the history of time. She was on the edge of her seat wondering what those monkeys would do next and kept looking at me like, "Can you believe this? She just went down the slide! He's climbing that boat mast like a sailor! They're running, Mommy! RUNNING!" Good times.

Kim's place was a hit (of course). I'm sure if Norah got another opportunity to sit on Santa's lap, instead of crying, she would ask him for an older sibling. Specifically Kim's little guy, Austin. He's got awesome toys and loves dancing. What else could you want in a friend?

The Santa photo I hadn't yet posted... Norah and Austin at Build a Bear

Whilst in Victoria, the kids did a lot of playing. I did a lot of shopping. We watched a lot of bad TV. We also did a lot of eating. We had to pay a trip to the doctor's as Norah kept gagging even when no food was in sight and I was experiencing vertigo every time I stood up. The health line had me panicking that Norah had something permanently lodged in her throat. The internet had me panicking that I had a brain tumor. Turns out neither were causes for concern and both of us have recovered nicely. We both slept better than we have ever (well, since she was born). Seriously. She needs an older sibling to wear her out. Anybody know how I can make that happen?

Unfortunately, Auntie Kim was only able to make good on one of her two promises. She swore she would turn Norah into a sleeping machine and apparently, though she didn't actually put Norah to sleep or offer any advice, she has. She also said she'd send her home crawling. Not so much.

Perhaps one of Kim's goals should have been to teach Norah to smile nicely for photos...

From an adult perspective, though the anxiety leading up to the trip was unnerving, it was more than worth it. Norah was fine on the flights and though she wasn't always content with all the change, she managed to charm everyone she met. My time with Jena and Kim was refreshing to say the least. Though I am proud to be a mom and happy to have that new identity, I really needed to be reminded that the old me is still there, too. Being a friend is another identity I cherish and it had been a while since I felt like I could be one int he full sense of the word. I never laugh as hard as I do with those ladies. There are few on this earth to whom I feel so connected. I am so lucky to be able to continue to make new memories with them in spite of the distance between us.

From a wife's perspective, I missed Chris, though I know the emptiness of our home made him miss us more. I went home with a new appreciation for all he does for us and with the resolve to make the most of the rest of my time at home.

Thanks for keeping me company on our trip, Norah. I hope you had as much fun as I did!

Memories: Go West Day Two and Three

2009-12-11T16:00:00.004-06:00

Before getting to Day Two, I better finish Day One.

Norah has this habit of pooping at nap time. Not before nap time, only after she has gone down for her nap. Well, she fell asleep in the car on the way home from the airport and when I transferred her to the crib from the car seat, there was no questioning she had done the job. Not wanting to wake her to change it and risk her not going back to sleep, I let sleeping babies lie.

When I went to change her, the poop literally lined the entire diaper, front to back, side to side, even up and around her legs. Gross.

Little did I know that this bodily fluid explosion was foreshadowing much more to come.

Getting ready to go out for supper, I laid her down on her change pad on the carpet. I removed the wet diaper, wiped, and before I could get the new diaper under her, she peed... like a puppy, missing the pad and all over the carpet. I was so shocked I didn't even react. Fortunately, Jena had a good sense of humour about it. Norah NEVER does that. EVER. Since then, I have implemented the tried and true new-diaper-under-the-old-one-prior-to-opening to avoid such incidents.

We went out to Red Robin for supper as it was only a block away and has delicious burgers. I ordered Norah a toasted bun so she could feel like a big girl. Just as our food arrived, Norah began to gag on her toast. The she puked. Everywhere.

Oy.

After she went to bed, Jena and I rented Julie and Julia. Because I have been burned by movies in the past, I was sure to check Rotten Tomatoes before we made our decision. Typically, anything with over a 50% rating is entertaining. Julie and Julia got 75% which is the same as Crash (2005), one of my favourite movies ever. I figured it must be a gooder. I understand that the rating is how many critics gave it big ups and not an actual rating of the quality, but if 3 out of 4 critics like it, there must be something worth seeing in it... right? Um, not so much. I mean, it wasn't bad, but it certainly wasn't entertaining.

Enough about mediocre movies.

Friday, Norah, Jena, and I headed to the mall. I'm going back to work and last year's winter wardrobe was all maternity clothes. While they would still fit and be amazingly comfortable, I have decided that I need to start dressing like I care. We went into one shop, found 8 items, and I took 5 of them. Jena entertained Norah who only had one hungry meltdown in the dressing room.

Later that afternoon, Anne, one of my former principals from Cambodia drove to Jena's place to meet Norah. Anne looked out for Chris and I while we were over there and we have missed having her in our life. She brought the cutest Olympic leisure suit for Norah along with a Christmas book with some beautiful illustrations. We even skyped Chris in for part of the visit.

That night, I packed and we ate pizza. I'm glad we went shopping early in this trip. The wine, tacos, pizza, burgers, etc. will not have been kind to my waistline...

Oh, and the weather has been beautiful. Never below zero. Why don't I live here?

Hope to write more soon...

Go West: Day One

2009-12-10T18:08:00.002-06:00

When I planned this trip, I had the benefit of hope. Hope that Norah would be sleeping through the night. Hope that she would have a reasonable wake up time. Hope that the trip would somehow be easy.

If plane tickets were the type of thing one purchased the day of departure, I would not have chosen today to leave. Norah woke at 5:45, after only 9 hours of sleep. We were hopeful she would go back to sleep after her bottle. When she didn't, we were hopeful she would go back to sleep after an hour as she often does and we would be able to get ready in peace. When she didn't, C took matters into his own hands and loaded her into the car for a motor-induced sleep while I got ready. She only got 30 minutes more rest, but even that was better than nothing.

I arrived at the airport at 8:40, an hour before my flight was scheduled to depart. We were "randomly" selected at security, so both Norah and I got a Good-Morning-Pat-Down. The security staff was all very friendly, which made it less of a pain. We hung out at the departure gate, I changed her diaper, fed her a bottle... the plane was 40 minutes late, which sucked, but Norah did fine.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that one of the only empty seats on the plane was next to me, so Norah had some space to play. She was great during take-off (when they insist that you hold your baby facing you-- a lot easier when your kid isn't 2 1/2 feet tall and almost 30 pounds...) and looked out the window contentedly. Once in the air, I fed her snacks, offered her toys (which I had thought people might lynch me for bringing as they are quite noisy, but the engines drowned them out nicely), put on a DVD which she only paid intermittent attention, changed her diaper, offered her more snacks. bounced her, let her stand, let her sit, nursed her (hoping she would fall asleep-- no luck, though she was over-tired-cranky for half an hour, screaming periodically in an up-cited fit), changed her diaper again (she's presently compensating for a no-poop-day she had a couple days ago), sang her songs, and finally, showed her the sights as we landed.

Once we arrived, an old friend, Carolyn, greeted us, I made her a bottle, got my own sandwich and coffee (sweet coffee) to go, retrieved my luggage and after loading and unloading it six times to get everything we needed, we drove to my friend, Jena's apartment. Norah fell asleep on the way (thank heavens), and stayed asleep when I transferred her to a towel on the floor of Jena's bedroom. I got my luggage and Carolyn and I visited. Norah woke and was completely distraught for at least half an hour. She was manically waving out the window at all the birds, people, buildings, and cars while crying.

Once she calmed, we played and ate and played some more. She was clearly getting bored, but it was close to nap time and I didn't want to risk getting lost or her falling asleep in the stroller, so we stuck it out. She went down for her nap fairly easily while I did dishes and watched channels I don't have at home. Now I'm blogging.

Amazing how much page I can fill with a total non-event. I'll try to do exciting things tonight and tomorrow to make up for this entry...

Daily Memories: Rock-a-Bye-Baby

2009-12-04T11:53:00.002-06:00

I put Norah down for her morning nap, but she wasn't ready to go. Her bottles have been providing less and less comfort lately. I let her fuss while I changed laundry, but she didn't seem to be settling. I went into her room without a plan, but knowing I wanted to comfort her without nursing her. I picked her up and sat down in the rocking chair, with her facing me. It was impossible at that moment for me to remember how it felt to hold her when she was small and her legs didn't even reach my lap. Today, she was kneeling on my thighs, the top of her head at my nose. For a minute, she looked out the window and cooed. I put my hand behind her head, rocked, and shushed. I rubbed her back, but I wasn't sure if it was comforting her, or just me. After a minute, though, she moved her head to my left shoulder and layed it there while her little fingers explored my collar bone. Eventually, her hand just rested on my chest and though I couldn't see her eyes, I knew she was drowsy. I picked her up and laid her in her crib on her tummy (the only way she sleeps these days). She pushed up to hands and knees, looked around, made one cry of protest, then put her head down and fell asleep.

Never, in her whole 10 months of life, have we ever snuggled like that. Never, in her whole 10 months of life, has purely my presence been enough to lull her to sleep. Never, in her whole 10 months of life have I felt that she trusted and loved me so much.

Working Momma

2009-11-26T10:27:00.002-06:00

Yesterday afternoon, my mommy pal, Risa, brought Gaia over and babysat Norah so that I could go into work. It was a staff meeting day and the afternoon was 2 hours of time with my subject area group followed by a staff meeting. I figured it was a good day for me to test the waters and see how it felt to step back into those shoes.

Being on the periphery these past 10 months has been, at times, both frustrating and incredibly freeing. Reading emails that referenced events I had no idea about often made me feel like I might never get back in the groove. Others, referencing deadlines made me smile as I "recycled" them. It goes both ways-- none of the rewards and none of the stress.

As the return to work approaches, I think it is easy for those of us who have been away to develop a skewed perception of what it will be like to return. Sleep having been such an issue for us, the idea of getting up for a work day is exhausting. Getting to spend my every waking moment with Norah, it is impossible to imagine seeing her only four hours of the day. Stressing out over deadlines and administrivia hardly seems like a worthwhile use of time once you have experienced parenthood. It is easy to dread that date.

I wondered if I would feel like an outsider. I wondered if I would be able to dive in with the same commitment and gusto as I had prior to my leave. While I don't want to completely romanticize what returning to work will be like, if yesterday was any indication, I think things are going to be just fine. Sitting around a table with my subject-area colleagues working on an exercise in group planning, I was energized and inspired. Talking shop was like riding a bike-- as if no time had passed at all since I last did it. I got excited about having students in a classroom again. I rediscovered what I loved about my job. Of course, there will be all that other stuff I have to deal with that in an ideal world wouldn't be my responsibility and marking doesn't exactly motivate me to want to go back. I'm not going in completely blind to the negative aspects of my job, but I think the collegiality, intellectual stimulation, and interactions with students will be enough to keep me positive.

They pay cheque won't hurt either.

Attachment Vaccuuming

2009-11-23T07:38:00.002-06:00

I walk into the bedroom, ready for bed and see Rowdy, our Roomba, charging on the floor.

Me: I can't believe you're letting Rowdy sleep in here!

C: Look. I just think it's a little early in his life to expect him to sleep all on his own.

Me: Well, I'll tell you this: if he ends up in bed with us, both of you are out of here.

C: But what if I eat in bed and there's crumbs? You know I can't sleep when there's crumbs!

The House that Mom and Dad Built

2009-11-19T20:02:00.003-06:00

My memory used to be impeccable. Ten months of pregnancy followed by ten months of sleep deprivation has done it in, so you are going to have to bear with me.

Someone was on the CBC talking about something. I can't remember who or the actual topic or even the time of day, but I do remember that whomever it was created a metaphor about individuals being houses that others build. I really liked that.

It got me thinking about the house that I want to build for Norah.

First, I want the location to be one close enough to us that she knows we are always there for her, but far enough that she can be her own person. I want the foundation to be built with only the strongest materials-- integrity, honesty, determination, resilience, empowerment, confidence, intelligence, respect.

I want the floors and the walls to be made of love so that she can move about without fear of judgment or scorn. I want it to be furnished with compassion, kindness, and good manners.

I hope the art on the walls is eclectic-- from travels around the globe-- and provocative-- demonstrating her conviction in her values. I want her house to be full of conversation pieces and for her to be strong enough to enter those conversations and diplomatic enough to keep them going without losing her audience.

I wish for the kitchen to be a place to nourish her body, the bookshelf a place to nourish her mind, and the living room a place to nourish her soul.

I want for her garage to contain every tool she may ever need to get out of a jam and for her to know how to use them.

I hope she has a room for hobbies and interests-- and that it is so full she may need two.

I want her bedroom to be a place for big dreams and true love.

I want there to be a lock on the door and an alarm system operated by her intuition that will help her to know who she should let in and who she should keep out.

Finally, I want the walls to be painted with laughter so that she never takes herself or her life too seriously.

Daily Memory: I Think She Can, I Think She Can

2009-11-17T12:33:00.002-06:00

Yesterday, Norah and I were honoured to host our pals Risa and Gaia for the majority of the day. Gaia even napped in our pack and play! I love it when these girls play together because it takes the heat off the Mommy Show and Gaia is an amazing mobile influence. They say positive peer pressure is the best way to get your kids to do stuff they don't want to do and I'm a believer.

While Gaia was here, Norah pulled up onto her knees for the first time and stayed that way, playing. Her reach extended farther than ever in the quest for toys. If not for her girth, she would have pulled her self to standing, but instead pulled her Incrediblock onto herself.

After they left, I decided to help Norah chase our cat Gabriel. I held her upright by her armpits to see what her little legs would do given the opportunity to move and that's just what they did! One in front of the other, not supporting much weight, mind you, but they had the right idea. She was so proud of herself that she clapped and stayed standing once we reached the fridge. I tried to sit her down to let her play with the Alphabet magnets, but she was having none of it.

Once Chris came home, Norah would move from sitting to hands and knees, but one leg remained pointed inwards with her right foot resting on her left knee (I can't think of a better visual description). She would rock and then sit back down on her bum. Eventually, though, and for the first time EVER without completely smashing her face, she transitioned from butt to belly with the grace of a baby half her size.

It won't be long and my girl will be on the go. Woohoo! ... Uh-oh...

Wake Up Calls

2009-11-17T08:01:00.003-06:00

For a while there, Norah was going to bed between 6:30 and 7:00. She would sleep straight through until 5ish. Relative to what we have been through, this is a dream. When considering the sleep deprivation we have endured over the past 9 months, it hasn't quite been cutting it-- especially since I am still waking multiple times a night to check the monitor.

The past few mornings, we have been trying different approaches to get her to go back to sleep. We tried giving her a bottle right away. No luck. We tried waiting until she cried. No luck. We tried no bottle at all. No luck. We tried changing her diaper. No luck. No matter what we did, she would stay up for at least an hour before going back to sleep.

On Sunday, she went back to sleep until 7:30 and even though all the advice we have read has said to keep a consistent schedule by establishing a wake-up time, we let her. It worked out perfectly because it pushed all of her naps back, leaving her bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the Santa Claus Parade (read: flatbed trucks with hay bales and kids or billboards for businesses rolling by-- gawd this place is soooo small town sometimes). She was also able to stay at my parents' house later than usual after our Sunday night supper.

She didn't go to bed until after 9:00. I really hoped all the activity would help her to sleep longer. No luck. She was up at 5:20. Only this time she didn't go back to sleep until 6:45. She woke naturally at 8:00. It took her a while to fall asleep for her 11:00 nap and so when 3:00 rolled around, I didn't want to risk her leaving the nap too late. I put her in the car and did a loop to get her to sleep on time. She woke at 4:10 and we put her in bed at 8:15.

She slept until 6:10. Better, but that's till 4:10 a.m. BC time and we're headed there in December for a visit. We fed her in her crib and left her. She played and at 7:00 we gave her another couple ounces and changed her diaper. Back to sleep she went. I'm about to wake her so we can go to Crossfit. Keep your fingers crossed for tomorrow morning!

Where Have All the Feminists Gone?

2009-11-16T16:04:00.004-06:00

I spend a lot of time defending feminism in my classroom. Adolescents have bought into the cliched caricature of feminism painted by popular culture and are mortified at the thought of being associated with camo-wearing hairy-armpitted man-hating bra-burning femi-nazis.

When I challenge them on the idea of equal rights, the girls proclaim that sexism just isn't an issue and the boys argue that they, in fact, are the victims here. After all, they can't even get jobs because of girls (or at least that's what their fathers told them).

It is so easy to be patient with these kids. I get it. The world they have grown up inhabiting is one where most sexism is subtle and that which isn't, is socially acceptable and couched in humour. The last thing a teenage girl wants to be is uptight. It's hard to get a boyfriend when you're uptight. The last thing a teenage boy wants to be is effeminate. It's hard to be respected by other boys when you're effeminate. So they convince themselves that nothing is wrong with their world and turn on anyone who suggests that there is.

The question of whether or not you consider yourself a feminist was posted on Momversation a while back and as a mother to a daughter, I am completely baffled by grown women who still hold those same views. These women who deny the label clearly feel they owe nothing to the women who blazed trails on our behalf. These women who feel no need to defend the work that has been done so far or continue it would be just fine with the elimination of the choices others fought so hard to receive. I don't understand it. What good comes from denying this title? What benefit is it to trivialize a movement that has ended so much injustice and continues to fight for equality? I sat here and I honestly tried to get inside the heads of these women who believe in the values, but not the word, who think of it as a historical term even though women, all over this globe continue to suffer. Feminism does not preclude you from caring about men. It does ask you to disrespect them. These are myths constructed by those who stand to benefit from that misconception.

Don't get me wrong. I don't care if you work outside the home or in it. I don't care if you get married in a church or in Vegas. I don't care if you love the one you're with, divorce them, or live unhappily ever after. I don't care if you like men, women, or both. I don't care if you have 18 kids or none, but had an abortion once. I don't care if you were born a woman on the outside or only on the inside. I don't care if you are somebody's boss or somebody's employee. I don't care if you wear clothes that are made for someone ten years younger or someone with a penis. I don't care if you have your Ph.D. or dropped out in tenth grade. I don't care if you run for office or would rather watch reality TV than vote. I don't care if you sit silent or sing out your dissatisfaction.

But I do care that you have the choice to do what you damn well please with your life and not be treated as a second-class citizen regardless of your choices. And if you wouldn't want me or anyone else making those choices for you, then you are a feminist whether you like it or not. I don't care what the stereotype in your head says, feminism, at its core, is about women's right to make decisions about their own lives.

So ladies, instead of selling each other out to the next guy who raises his eyebrow and says, "You're not a feminist, are you?" why not do our daughter's proud and tell him you are?

Guys? Instead of being intimidated by the term, why not embrace it? You're not in high school any more.

Finally, if you ladies are sitting there, reading this, shaking your head at me in disagreement, thank a feminist you can.

Fear Itself

2009-11-13T14:10:00.005-06:00

This morning I sat and wrote. And wrote. And wrote. And then deleted it all. It wasn't actually for this blog, but I think it helped to unclog the plumbing in my brain because I am actually inspired to write for the first time in a long time. Hopefully it's a sign of things to come.

The irrational fears of motherhood begin early, during pregnancy.

What if that bath was too hot? Did I just cook my baby?

Will the drinking/smoking/general debauchery I took part in prior to discovering that I was pregnant have any significant effects on my fetus?

What if that old lady is right and I really AM pregnant with twins?

And they don't relent once the baby is born.

What if I drop her?

Is my baby going to starve to death before my milk comes in?

Is my baby still breathing?

What if that fuzz on her eye travels around and into her brain where it dislodges and interferes with some important function?

As with all new experiences, fear is perfectly natural and often healthy. After all, I think I would be more worried about a new mother who had no fears whatsoever than one who had plenty. So many of the fears, too, are based in reality. SIDS is a very real concern and even though it is rare, it is something to consider.

But even as you get better at parenting and have evidence to support the fact that you're entirely incompetent, the fears persist, becoming increasingly elaborate and even more far fetched.

I still check the monitor to make sure that Norah is breathing and that she hasn't been snatched. I mean, Chris has a belt that when it jingles, can wake me from a dead sleep from across the house, but it is possible that someone (a ninja perhaps?) may just have pried open some window, entered my home, and snatched my baby IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY without me noticing.

I repeat the mantra daily, "I am lucky that Norah is immobile. She will crawl and walk when she is ready and for now I should be thankful" but it doesn't help. There is a small, irrational part of me that genuinely believes she will never crawl or walk-- that she will be the first baby in the history of time who simply chooses, out of apathy, not to use the able body with which she has been blessed. She will roll into Kindergarten sitting on a skateboard, pushing it with her hands. The other children will admire her cool protective gloves and then go home to throw tantrums until they, too, have a skateboard. Soon children everywhere will refuse to walk. Eventually, our species will evolve and we will be born with calloused hands and no legs...

Yes-- to sit here and read all of it now, it seems silly. But to my body, it seems real. I get nervous and panicky if I think about it too long. My brain goes into overdrive first cataloging all the ways I have failed as a parent and then analyzing ways I can correct it. The truth is I can't. I just have to let Norah's nature take its course. I know that. I just don't feel it.

And I'm not the only one. One friend of mine has almost convinced herself, at times, that her son is autistic just because he doesn't have as big a vocabulary as other babies. Another friend wonders how exactly she is going to deal with it if in fact there are no teeth under her daughter's gums. Yet another friend believes that her daughter might succumb to malnutrition because of her finicky eating habits.

None of these things are true. But they are technically possible, right? So long as the possibility exists, so does the fear.

I know now why my mother used to have me wake her when I got home from a night out with friends. It always seemed so counter-intuitive. I mean, why not just assume I am safe and know that a phone call will come if I'm not? Besides, what could you possibly to do help me if I were in trouble? Why would you want to be woken up in the middle of the night?
"Because I don't sleep until I know you are home."
Then why do I have to wake you?
"(sigh)I don't sleep well until I know you are home."

The dreams I still have about forgetting Norah is sleeping in bed with us and being unable to find her in the covers (even though she only ever slept in our bed a handful of times and it has been six or seven months since the last time) have helped me to understand what that means. And now I realize, I mean truly understand, that it is always going to be this way. When you decide to create life, you decide to invite fear along for the ride. It will forever be a passenger in my journey from this point forth. All we can do is refuse to give it the keys or let it steer.

General Update

2009-11-12T09:15:00.003-06:00

I know, I know. I'm a bad blogger. But you should thank me. I haven't had anything awesome to write about and so I was sparing you all the boring details of my redundant life.

This is where we're at:

Norah had six nights where she slept straight through until 5:00ish. The no-middle-of-the-night-wake-up was awesome, but the early rise sucked. Then she went back to waking in the night. Sweet. So, we stayed strong and kept her in her crib through both her middle of the night waking and her early morning rise. After a few weird nights, we seem to be on track. 7:00ish bedtime, 6:00ish rise. Crying out briefly, but no night waking. Nice.

Though it often takes her upwards of 20 minutes to put herself to sleep, she goes down for naps with little or no crying. Yesterday, she fell asleep 30 minutes early in the car, but then woke after only 40 minutes. On a whim, I suggested Chris give her a bottle (without picking her up) and then leave again. Sure enough, she went back to sleep for over an hour. Norah's pretty much a napping pro.

When it comes to eating, she is also excelling. She might be slow to warm up, but once you get her accepting a bite or two, she'll clean her bowl. This morning, Chris had to trick her into eating her egg yolk veggie omelet (pureed with rice cereal) by putting her little bowl into his big breakfast bowl and letting her eat off a big person spoon. But it worked! Her lunch is yogurt and fruit puree with half a slice of toast and her supper varies from night to night. Whether it is pork chops and applesauce or shepherd's pie, as long as it's pureed, she loves it. I'm not really sure when she is going to be able to handle wet textures, but I figure her puking when I try to feed it to her kind of defeats the purpose. I'll try again in a week or two.

Milk is by far her favourite sign. She grins like a goof every time she signs it and we say, "You want milk?" As if to say, "Finally! You understand me!"

She's no closer to crawling than she was a week or even a month ago. In fact, sometimes I think she's farther from it than ever. The only new gross motor development is that she has been trying to pull up on her incrediblock lately. Too bad she weighs more than it and if I'm not there to hold it down/help her up, she can pull it over on herself. She has also started sleeping on her stomach, so I'm hoping that will inspire some new moves.

That's it from us. I hope to have more to write about soon...

And then the Starfish Turned into a Duck!

2009-11-10T19:59:00.002-06:00

Norah completed her first set of swimming lessons on Monday. She is officially a Starfish. What does that mean, you ask? Well, according to her report card, it means she has successfully accomplished the following tasks:

Play and Sing Songs (or hanging out while mom sings and scream sometimes)
Getting Wet (or hanging out while mom splashes)
Supports and Holds (or assuming the Pilates 100 position while mom tries to force a back float)
Submersion (yes, we tried that again for the last class, it worked much better this time)
Rhythmic Breathing (she must have cheated on this test because I have no recollection of that lesson)
Buoyancy and Movement (otherwise known as giving mom's arms a break from her land weight of 25 pounds)
Movement in all Directions (or hanging out while mom pretends she's Norah Phelps)

Apparently her cool new sticker earns her a pass into the next level-- Duck. Besides her sticker, she also got a sweet teacher comment:

"Norah good job! Have fun in duck."

These animal names are way cooler than the coloured badges we got as kids. She can't start Duck until she's older so we will have to take advantage of free time at the pool. I want to continue to encourage her aquatic skills as I fear the pool may be the only place she ever crawls...

[Not So] Daily Memory: Map Making

2009-11-08T21:17:00.002-06:00

It was 17 freaking degrees on Friday-- hotter than most of our summer. I often disparage the weather here, citing it as my number one motivation to get the hell out. Though I am sure I will regret this in the near future, I have to admit it has been pretty great so far this fall.

I had a choice to make on Friday. Norah's naps were such that they would allow me to visit work in the afternoon to meet with a colleague whose class I will be taking over at semester break and also to introduce myself more formally to my new principal. This timing hasn't happened so far this fall and so I felt slightly obligated. The weather, however, was so beautiful, that my obligation to get my daughter fresh air superseded any work urges I had. I messaged Chris and told him to meet us at the lake when he finished work.

We took our time as we strolled, stopping to let Norah squeal at the geese and wave at passers-by. We enjoyed the fresh air. We talked.

We talked about the immediate and the not-so-distant future. We considered options (which is something you have to do often when you have as many available to you as we do-- and yes, I realize how lucky I am) and picked a couple to try on over the next little while. Attempting to time your life is incredibly necessary yet almost completely futile. I, for one, cannot move through each day without an idea of where it will eventually lead me. I need to be pointed in a direction, with route markers along the way. My maps are never written in stone and there are plenty of intended destinations I have never reached-- not because I failed to make the journey, but because I chose another map instead. But I need to have a map. Even if it just serves as kindling to a fire at some point along the way. It makes me feel safe and gives me confidence. Yet, as we know, all too well, there are no guarantees in life-- not even freezing-ass weather in Saskatchewan this time of year...

Times like this let me breathe deeply and settle into a comfortable pace. This is an epic journey, after all, not a short-haul flight.

Daily Memory: Mr. Roboto

2009-11-05T19:41:00.003-06:00

After getting up to feed Norah when she wakes, I often return to bed while she and Chris get some Daddy-Daughter time. I borrow her white noise and usually manage to get another 30 or so minutes of shut-eye. This morning, I wasn't feeling like I needed a full-on sleep-in, but decided to return to bed to extend my wake-up (read: enjoy the new memory foam mattress topper I bought last night for a little longer). I didn't bother with the white noise.

While lying there, I heard an unfamiliar beeping, and for some unknown reason, my curiosity was not strong enough for me to haul my butt out of bed. Okay, the reason was known. It was the new mattress topper again.

Then, I heard Chris using his electric razor. It seemed a little loud, but I'm usually sleeping when he shaves, so what do I know. His shave seemed to be taking a while and then I heard him making breakfast in the kitchen... while he was still shaving? Chris does some strange things sometimes, but that seemed out of character. I tried like hell to figure out what else it might be and came up short. I sighed and got up.

I opened the door and discovered the noise was coming from our living room. When I turned the corner, I exclaimed, "Is that a robot vacuuming my floor?" And it was.

I was so excited. I took Norah off Chris's hands, pointed, and said, "Look, Norah! Daddy bought you a puppy!" because that's the only way I could think of to get her as excited about a robot as I was. And I knew I could get away with it because I'm confident she thinks Gaia (her best baby friend) is a cat...

I have been bugging Chris about getting a Roomba for a few weeks-- well, half-heartedly because these bad boys are pri$ey. There was a woman on a forum I belong to who said that she set hers to clean while she slept and woke up in the morning with clean floors. COULD YOU IMAGINE? WAKING TO CLEAN FLOORS? I asked Chris this question a few times and then reminded him that vacuuming was his domain and the Roomba would actually save HIM time. Normally, I wouldn't even entertain such an extravagance, but with two cats and a little girl who is going to start crawling soon (I-think-she-can-I-think-she-can), I just can't keep up. And asking C to do it after he worked all day was getting to me.

Then, friends of ours got one and that must have been the tipping point for Chris. He got to hear about its amazingness from someone he trusted. Turns out, he bought it Monday, but had to secretly charge it and find time to set it up. I think he was terrified I would buy one at Costco when I was there last night, but I must have put his mind at ease when I called him to help me cost compare on items like chocolate chips and to second the motion for the new bed cloud... I mean mattress topper...

All day, I couldn't wait for Chris to get home so we could give Rowdy a spin (that's Mr. Rowdy Roboto to you!). He vacuumed Norah's room while I cleaned the kitchen. He worked on the living room while we fed Norah supper and bathed her. He tried to finish the kitchen while we ate, but ran out of steam. While moving all the crap off my floors so that he can move as freely as possible and be totally thorough was a pain, it was worth it. My house is cleaner than it has been in weeks.

Rowdy is currently recharging before round two: our bedroom, the bathroom, and the hallway. I'm off to clean the bathroom. Robots inspire me.

That's right. My memory is of cleaning. What's it to you?

Speaking and Signing and Teething, Oh My!

2009-11-04T09:03:00.006-06:00

What an amazing few days it has been!

Four nights in a row, Norah has slept for between 10-11 hours straight. Obviously, this condensed sleep has paved the way for linguistic advancement. As teachers we know that sleep is necessary for the brain to consolidate and store the information it gains throughout the day. The synapses in her brain must be firing like crazy, establishing schema left, right, and centre.

As we all know, Norah's first word was "Mum." We knew it took on word status when she stopped babbling it willy-nilly and instead used it to greet me in the morning, when she desired to be fed, and in attempts to make me feel guilty for such heinous crimes as attempting to put her in a shirt or a snowsuit.

Monday, after Chris got home, he picked her up and brought her to the kitchen. He and I were chatting and mid conversation, she turned and looked him square in his big face and said, "Dad." Again, it was distinct compared to her usual, "Dadadablahblahdada-mmmmbebebedada." It was clear as a bell. We rejoiced.

Tuesday morning, while I was catching some final Z's, Chris claims that after picking Norah up, she told him what just happened: "Up!" I was not present for this utterance, so it is total here say at this point and she hasn't said it since, but let's give both of them the benefit of the doubt, why don't we?

This morning, while we were playing, I began to cheer for her because she reached a block that was far away. After sitting back up, she raised her hands high above her head (as is customary when we say "Yay!"), then lowered her hands and began to clap. I really couldn't believe it, so I raised my hands above my head again for another, "Yay!" which she copied and then I started clapping, which she also copied. We did this five or six times just to be sure it wasn't some motor-skill fluke.

Not 15 minutes later, I picked her up to move to another room. She began to fuss. The living room is where I usually feed her, so I guessed that she wanted to nurse. I asked her if she wanted milk and made the sign. She got excited at my correct guess. When I sat down on the couch, she began to make the milk sign. Again, I was flabbergasted, so I waited until she stopped and then said, "Milk" at which point she began squeezing her hand repeatedly. She continued signing "milk" intermittently throughout the feeding. When it was time for her nap, I showed her the bottle and said, "Milk." Again, she made the sign.

Oh, and while we were playing with blocks and looking out the window, I surreptitiously peeked into her mouth and then let her chew on my finger to confirm. Yup-- her front upper left tooth has broken through-- I knew that drooling had to be for something!

She is now sleeping soundly after 0 minutes and 0 seconds of crying, as is typical these days. I can pretty much count on her being down for over an hour and know, without question, that she will go down for nap #2 exactly 3 hours after waking from this nap. Her bedtime is a little flexible-- between 4 and 4 1/2 hours after waking. Each time, no crying, and good quality sleep.

Back in our darkest hours, if someone would have told me that our lives would look like this at month nine, I'm not sure if I would have kissed them for returning hope to me or slapped them for telling such obvious lies. I know that we must have seemed neurotic about her sleep patterns during her life so far and that others have whispered the words "uptight" and "over protective" behind our backs and sometimes to our faces. I know that we have been misunderstood in our efforts and accused of trying to force a schedule on our child when all we were really trying to do was create the conditions necessary for her to do what she needed to do at the times she needed to do it. And we are finally seeing the pay off. What a relief.

This Little Piggy Got Her Vaccination

2009-11-02T19:51:00.005-06:00

I haven't written about this hot button issue because I was vacillating on it for so long. At first, I was definitely NOT getting Norah or I vaccinated. We would tough it out. I am one of the farthest things from a science-minded person (Biology was my lowest mark in high school) and so not knowing/understanding enough about the H1N1 vaccine scared the beejeebus out of me. My online research focused primarily on those opposed and why. Mercury-this and not-tested that had me convinced that giving Norah the vaccine would cause irreparable damage. Reading up on prevention methods increased my confidence-- I take garlic and zinc and LOVE my neti pot. I figured we could stay healthy enough through the winter to kick the swine flu's ass and then be immune for forever. Amen.

Then, I started thinking about the times Norah has been sick so far this year. Her cough hung on for weeks. And weeks. There wasn't much we could do-- she's too little for decongestants or expectorants-- except give her the inhaler, which was basically like a little torture chamber for her face. I started to visualize all the germs Chris would be bringing home from school from now until January and all those I would add upon my return to work. So then I started considering having Chris and I immunized. At least that way, we wouldn't be hacking and sneezing all over the place and hopefully hand-washing would be enough to protect my little one. This, of course, was before the shortage.

It was also before I booked Norah and I tickets to BC in December. The idea of traveling with a sick baby and putting my friends at risk made me a little queasy.

Then the reports of how quickly this flu can set in and how strongly some people have been reacting began to it came in. When teenagers who start feeling like they might be getting a cold in the morning and end up in the emergency room the same day because they can't breathe is when I start to get concerned about my munchkin. I mean, she is basically a linguistic genius (she now says Mom and Dad), but I think she's a ways away from saying, "My throat is closing; please take me to the hospital."

Kim called to see what I was doing and I didn't have a very good answer. Tired of all the online FEAR-- fear of the vaccine, fear of the flu-- I decided to call my sister-in-law. She's a nurse and quite possibly the most level-headed, practical person I have ever met-- the perfect mix of head and heart. She had considered the risks and decided to vaccinate my niece-- just for H1N1, not for the seasonal flu. I quizzed her on why and she gave me her reasons. She acknowledged the potential risks and admitted that there was no way to know for certain whether or not there would be long term effects, but based on the information we have at this time, she felt the flu was more of a threat. After hearing them, I reported back to Kim and made my decision to have Norah vaccinated. For the first time, I felt at peace with my decision. Perhaps that is because of some misplaced trust I have in our medical system or because my fear of the immediate trumped my fear of what may or may not be down the road, but it sat well in my gut*.

With my nerves about the actual vaccination gone, I was delighted to turn on the radio to hear about vaccination shortages and line ups hours long in other cities. I was equally tickled to visit my favourite mommy forum and have people reporting that parents had been lined up since 4 a.m. this morning for the 9 a.m. start time. In spite of this, I let Norah nap as usual-- from 9-10, and then bundled her up, anticipating a line 5 blocks long in the sub-zero weather. A pregnant friend came along to keep us company and get her shot as well. I was prepared to wait in line and then have to leave for Norah's afternoon nap and repeat the whole process at a later time, but REALLY hoped I wouldn't have to.

When we arrived, the line was only a block long and was moving very steadily. The whole process took less than 2 hours. Too bad the evening news only reported on the experience of those first thing in the morning. My sister-in-law went after work and it took her less than an hour.

Going through this whole process has really had me considering my general philosophies. I realized that the angsty-teenage-ef-the-establishment part of me still controls my brain from time to time and that I often default to contrary instead of actually fully considering all sides of an issue. Now that I am responsible for another life, I really need to stop that. This is not to say that I should swallow all that is fed to me, but I do need to make sure that I am truly looking at all sides of an issue**.

P.S. Norah didn't even cry... until I had to put her snowsuit back on. Sleeves are the devil.

P.P.S. Norah slept through the night AGAIN last night. Woohoo!

P.P.P. S. I will return to Daily Memories-- I've missed a few gooders and am regretting slacking off.

*Let me say this, please do not use my gut as a reason to vaccinate or not. You have to live with your gut, not mine (and for that you should be glad since my gut is presently hanging over the top of my pants).

** Again, this is not to say that those who decided not to vaccinate did not look at all sides of the issue. I totally understand not wanting to put this foreign substance into your kid for an 85% chance that it might stop them from getting a flu that may or may not be severe THIS YEAR. We all make judgment calls and in the end only we can determine what is best for us.

Sleeping Like a Baby

2009-11-01T08:59:00.004-06:00

I have to begin by apologizing for the lack of posts lately. I have no excuse other than exhaustion. Norah's whole, "I'm going to wake up in the middle of the night for 90 minutes" routine really took its toll.

As it is, I am not the greatest sleeper. It can take between 30 minutes and 2 hours to fall asleep (or get back to sleep once awake). When I do sleep, it is often fitful with multiple wakings throughout the night.

Thursday night was by far the worst. I know it was after midnight when I finally fell asleep. Norah woke at 1:20 and stayed awake until 2:50. At 5:50, when she woke, I had not been back to sleep. Chris got up with her and I managed to catch 30 or so minutes before he had to leave for work.

During my awake time, I returned to Healthy Sleep Habits, Healthy Child-- quite possibly the most poorly organized book in the history of books. Under normal circumstances, if I encountered a text this unfriendly, I would just ditch it. The problem is that there is actually helpful information in it, and I was desperate. Anyhow, I located a section on the 9 month old that informed me that night feedings needed to stop at this age. It gave me mixed feelings. I have no problem with feeding Norah at night IF she goes back to sleep after. How am I to know if she is genuinely hungry or not? But when the book compared sleep deprivation to malnourishment, I decided that if it was preventing her from sleeping, that wasn't fair either.

We decided to use the weekend to try to eliminate her night feedings. Friday night, she woke at 12:30, and instead of rushing to feed her, we gave her a few minutes and then went in to comfort her. Of course, when we left the room without feeding her, she totally lost her cool. Thank goodness for the video monitor. We could see how tired she was and that she was trying to fall back to sleep. We checked in after another 15 minutes and again 15 minutes after that. The whole time, I was raging on the inside at all those folks who wrote testimonials for the book that said things like, "The first night, our baby cried for 12 minutes before falling asleep. It was the hardest 12 minutes of my life..."

After a total of 50 minutes (that's right, 4 times longer than the testimonial babies), she was back asleep. She stayed down until 5:30.

Last night, we attended an awesome co-ed baby shower. My friend Michelle came over to hang out while Norah slept and we were able to go back to the party. After getting home and visiting with Michelle for a while, we finally went to bed. It was close to midnight. I was dreading the possibility of being woken in 30 minutes and having to endure another sleep training session. Fortunately, I closed my eyes and fell asleep in a reasonable amount of time.

I woke at 1, 2:30, and 4:00, checking the monitor each time, and there was Norah, sound asleep. Nary a peep was heard since we put her down just before 7:00. It wasn't until 5:50 that she decided to wake up. That's right, folks. Eleven hours straight. It has reignited the glimmer of hope that I might once again feel rested... some day...

It should reignite your hope, too, that I may start posting regularly again...

Month 9 - All Talk and No Action

2009-10-30T10:40:00.000-06:00

Well, I figured I better get to this post before it was time to write the one for Month Ten.

At nine months, Norah has been out of my womb for as long as she was in. Thank goodness she waited until she was on the outside for the major growth spurts! She's currently over 25 lbs and approximately 32 inches tall. She's wearing 12-18 month and 1T clothes.

The biggest change in Norah this month has been her sleep. Though I know saying it out loud is likely to get me struck by lightening, but she's almost achieved Sleep All Star status. She goes down for naps and bedtime with hardly any crying at all (often less than 30 seconds and rarely more than 5 minutes). Her schedule is totally predictable. Her morning nap is always 3 hours after waking (so around 9 o'clock, give or take 30 minutes). Her second nap is 3 hours after waking from her first. Both naps last longer than an hour. Bedtime is around 4 hours after waking, but hasn't been past 7 o'clock in a long time. Our only hiccups at present are that she sometimes wakes in the middle of the night and won't return to sleep for 90 minutes and that her wake-up time is between 5 and 6. Today it was 5:15. Oy. However, relative to what we have faced in the past, this is a cake walk

Another big milestone is that (as you know) she now says "mama" in reference to me. This act makes up for the fact that she has found her soprano screaming voice. I may or may not have started a thread entitled "Screaming Banshee" on the mom forum I belong to seeking reassurance that this is just a phase. She uses it to express all kinds of emotions-- from happiness to boredom. It is piercing and sucks the life right out of you.

She continues to "love" the cats. Michael takes such beatings (pinchings, pokings, pluckings, etc.) from her, but it's hard to feel sorry for him when the first thing he does each day is come to find her and lie down as close to her as possible for "attention."

Norah laughs very easily these days. She still loves her own jokes best, but now appreciates Mom's crazy dancing and Dad's silly noises. Peek-a-boo is pretty much the best game ever. She also loves to copy what we do. She is currently trying to perfect her fishy face.

Her playdates get more and more exciting all the time. She and her pal Gaia try to pet one another and steal each other's toys (Norah actually pulled the soother right out of Gaia's mouth and stuck it in her own, promptly spitting it out once having had her taste).

Gaia, 7 weeks Norah's junior, has recently started to crawl and I am hoping that she will inspire Norah into action. Yes. Norah is still sedentary, though tummy time no longer seems torturous. And, thanks to our trusty video monitor, I have busted her trying to practise her crawling in the crib at nap-time (read: rolling onto her tummy and pushing up on her arms and knees). So while it may not be anytime soon, it looks like Norah will get mobile eventually!

Boob Schooling

2009-10-26T14:30:00.003-06:00

So with all this mounting research about the newly discovered benefits breastmilk, my questions are: why is the government not pushing for milk banks to be set up across the country? Why aren't breast-pumps paid for by health insurance? Why does guilt appear to be the primary tactic used to "encourage" women to breastfeed? We are intelligent human beings. Give us the information-- just the facts-- and let us make our decisions from there.

And to my neighbours to the south: why not ensure that women who are physically able to have a realistic opportunity to breastfeed by offering them more than 6 weeks maternity leave?

There's all this pressure on parents to do everything perfectly and try to ensure the best start for their babies, but yet, the job of parenting is so under-valued by our culture...

Here's something else that just occurred to me. I spent hundreds of hours in math classrooms in high school learning about frigging triangles and parabolas. I spent hundreds of hours in science class, learning how to dissect animals and determine velocity. I spent hundreds of hours in English class reading dry literature (just because I liked it doesn't make it right). I spent hundreds of hours in social studies class learning... well I don't remember much from social studies class except making eight pages of notes about Sunday Report every Monday morning and using song lyrics to make them look longer when I fell asleep during the show. Taking the average student, I would like for someone to please calculate the likelihood that the actual concepts gleaned from these classes will be used beyond the classroom. Seriously. Now, I would like for someone to please determine the likelihood that the average students will ever be involved in the rearing of a child. Now, would someone, anyone, please explain to me why issues of parenting are not presented and discussed in school? Seriously. And no, making us label awkward diagrams of penises and uteri does not count.

And I am serious. I am so serious, I am wondering if, when I pursue my masters if my project could be to create a curriculum for such a class...

Daily Memories: Dad-- the Awesome Topper

2009-10-26T08:05:00.001-06:00

Chris is finishing changing Norah's diaper while I am in another room...

Chris: Look, Norah! You're standing! ... All by yourself!

Images of Chris allowing Norah to test her legs on our 3 foot high change table flash through my mind. I resist the urge to chastise him and instead teasingly call his bluff without going in to look.

Me: Yeah, right.

Chris: Norah! Now you're on just one leg! Holy cow!

Me: (still refusing to entertain his antics) Shut-up.

Chris: Jumping jacks? Norah, you're AMAZING!

Me: (rolling eyes and laughing)

Chris: Did you just spell Daddy in sign language? Do it again! D... A... D... D... Y! You got it!

Me: (still laughing)

Chris: Norah! You're factoring! You're SO smart!

Me: (laughing harder) You nerd. Give me our daughter... factoring... pffft.

Clearly, me being Norah's first word is getting to him...

Daily Memories: Skype Edition

2009-10-25T09:15:00.003-06:00

Through the magic of the internet, Norah had an extremely busy travel/social life yesterday.

First, we Skyped with Kim (friendship est. 1992) and Austin (entered world in 2008) in Victoria. Kim and I talk every couple of days, so it was same-same with us-- although I think this was the first time she'd ever seen Norah live. Austin entertained us by climbing on laundry baskets and tipping over in his Elmo chair. Seeing both our homes in disarray with toys strew everywhere is still a little creepy. It's a far cry from the apartment we once shared, which was a disarray of cigarette butts and empties.

It is my not so secret desire that Norah will grow to love Austin (and vice versa) and marry him someday so this was basically like their first date. What's not to love? He has gorgeous blonde curls and clear blue eyes-- never mind his eyelashes and his dimples. Plus, he loves to dance, and what woman doesn't love a man who can dance? OK, enough with the heteronormative dreams...

Immediately following that discussion, I called Jena in Vancouver (friendship also est. 1992). She hadn't seen Norah since her summer visit. Seeing how excited Jena gets to see Norah reminds me that I'm pretty much the luckiest mom and friend in the world. Reminding myself that at 14 years of age, she and I nannied for a 4 month old child over the summer also gives me confidence in my ability to parent now.

We didn't chat about much-- mostly about Norah and a little about Jena's new apartment. She has extended the invitation, on more than one occasion, for Norah and I to visit her in Vancity, and one of these days I'm going to have to take her up on it. I used to visit much more often, pre-baby (oh, the memories of being early 20 somethings in the big city), and though I'm sure our visits will look much different with baby than they did without, I'm positive they will be just as much fun.

Later on that night, we were still logged in to Skype (we're not usually as it slows our computer down) and our pals Ben and Julia (friendship established 2005 in Phnom Penh) texted to see if we were up for a visit. They are currently living in Seoul with their little guy, Quinn (entered world 2007). We were lucky enough to be there for their whole pregnancy and Quinn's first few weeks at home. I am amazed each time we see Quinners at what a little man he has become-- a perfect little mix of both our friends we miss so dearly. They certainly were trailblazers for us, as seeing them through the process made us more comfortable with the idea of having one of our own. And they have been there for us ever since. When we were at our wits end with Norah's sleep, from thousands of miles away, they gave us the reassurance we needed to go ahead and do what we knew was for the best.

During our chat, they asked about work and our arrangements for Norah come January. Chris told them that we found childcare that we were happy with, expressing that we had to realize that no one was ever going to do things exactly how we would, to which Ben replied, "And that's probably a good thing." I had never thought about it like that and it put me even more at ease with my decision to return to work.

All these visits really got me reflecting on how lucky we are to have the kind of friends who stick by us-- no matter the distance or the changes in situation. There are people here-- who live within the 20-minutes-to-anywhere limits of our city-- who I talk to and see less since Norah was born than I do these long distance friends. It can be hard to maintain friendships when lives undergo such incredible change. What great fortune it is to have those with whom we never seem to miss a beat.

Daily Memories: Mumumumumum

2009-10-24T09:52:00.002-06:00

I'm making it official. I am Norah's first word.

Once again, on Thursday morning, Chris got up with her and it wasn't until I entered the room that she started saying, "Mumumum."

Later in the day, I was driving home from Crossfit, expecting her to fall asleep in the car (it was nap-time, after all), but when I got home I looked in her mirror and saw that she was fully awake. My heart sank. We've been doing so well with sleep lately (more on that in another entry) and the idea of her missing a nap really got me down. But when I opened her car door to get her out, she looked me square in the eye and said, "Mum." I smiled and said, "Yes, I am your mum." She smiled back.

I took her inside and fed her. After laying her in her crib, she decided it was playtime. Again, I was at a loss. I went back into her room after 10 minutes. She turned to see me come in and again, called me, "Mum." I nursed her once more and put her down to sleep. This time she slept.

That night, she slept for eight hours straight and then decided it was time to play. We left her for a bit, hoping she would go back to sleep, but when it became clear that she wouldn't and her yelling went from playful to upset, I went in to get her. I got her out of bed and carried her out to the dark living room. When I set her down on the floor so she could play, she looked up at me, smiling big in the darkness and declared, "Mum."

While I couldn't be more excited about being her first word, I am slightly concerned that it would appear that she is using it almost entirely as an emotionally manipulative tool. She's a smart cookie, because it works.

She won't say it on command and it doesn't happen every time she sees me, but she doesn't seem to say it when I'm not there (although, she did say it to Chris this morning when looking at a picture of me).

So, I'm sticking my flag in it. Mum. That's me.

Keeping H1N1 at Bay

2009-10-23T18:28:00.001-06:00

Hey Mammas-- you can read here about simple, natural ways to prevent the spread of H1N1 and protect your family, whether or not you intend to vaccinate.

Daily Memories: What's my name?

2009-10-21T09:47:00.003-06:00

My daily memory occurred less than 10 minutes after getting out of bed. Chris was feeding Norah some cereal and I walked into the kitchen. As soon as she saw me, she began, "Mum-mum-mum" and doing a combination of waving and the sign for milk. Chris looked at me with disbelief, "She hasn't said that at all this morning."

"That's right! I'm Mum-mum!" I cheered. She raised her arms high above her head, crinkled her nose, and sniffed in excitement (we have no idea where she got the excited breathing thing from, but she does it all the time and loves it when you do it back).

"Mum-mum... seriously... Hey, Norah? Hey Norah? What about Da-da-da-da?" Chris implored.

She looked at him, cocked an eyebrow, and then looked my direction as if to say, "Who invited this guy?"

Now, let' be clear, I'm not claiming "first word" just yet, whether or not it was a fluke, remains to be seen. Either way, though, it was still very cool.

Daily Memories: Giant Starfish

2009-10-20T22:13:00.003-06:00

Monday

Norah was so excited to go swimming. She squirmed in my arms and squealed so loud it echoed when we set foot into the pool area.

When we were done, she sat in her wall chair waiting for me to get dressed. The tiny drips of water that had been dropping from her wet towel turned into a stream as she peed all over the floor. It was a three foot pee-fall. All I could do was look at R and laugh. And earlier that day I had been thinking about how lucky I was to have a predictable baby in terms of diapering. We NEVER have accidents while diapers are off. It must have been all the pool water she drank.

Tuesday

It was Norah's nine month check-up today. She's perfectly healthy. And huge. 32 inches and over 25 pounds. I will write a better ode to 9 months tomorrow.

Finally

2009-10-19T13:37:00.002-06:00

Norah slept from 6:15 p.m. until 6:05 a.m. with no wakings.

We're not sure exactly what did it.

It could have been that the previous night, we did not go to her immediately when she woke around midnight. Instead, we tried to let her fall back to sleep, checking in to let her know we were there, but not offering her anything to eat.

It could have been that the day was full of activity, including our trip to the symphony.

It could have been that we had to wake her early from both naps so that her schedule would accommodate the symphony.

It could have been a fluke, but I'm going to choose to believe otherwise and attempt to recreate it tonight.

Wish me luck!

Daily Memory: Weekend Edition

2009-10-18T19:14:00.007-06:00

Saturday

As if Chris's family wasn't big enough already, he also has some relatives of the non-related sort. He has an "Uncle" and five "cousins" with whom he shared his formative years. They are the kind of relatives we all would choose if we were given the opportunity.

Since the only people who know anything about me before I was 12 are my immediate family, I am often jealous of relationships like these. Hearing them remember together makes the kid in me kind of lonely. But instead of feeling sorry for myself, I have decided to make things right by ensuring that Norah has a chance at lifelong friends.

This weekend, the middle cousin hosted a belated Thanksgiving. Chris's Uncle, his partner, all five cousins, two with spouses, two with kids, a set of in-laws, Chris's sister and her family, and we all gathered for some amazing food (I mean amazing).

The two little girls played on the floor beside the buffet table while two of the boys played hide-and-go-seek. The littlest one was rocked to sleep and cooed compliments while he was awake. The adults talked work and school and home-ownership and parenthood. There was a kind of ease in the air that only comes with lifelong friendships and I was so happy that both Norah and I will have a chance to be a part of it.

Sunday

A good friend of ours scored us some tickets to the Regina Symphony Orchestra's production of Roald Dahl's Little Red Riding Hood. It was Norah's first outing of this sort and we weren't sure how she would take it. We took one step into the foyer and she was gobsmacked by all the other kids. Once in the theatre, she was even more entranced, squealing with excitement at all the little people sitting around her. As the show began, she watched the actors with fascination and vibrated with enthusiasm as everyone clapped. When the music played, she waved her arms like she was Norah Sawa.

When her attention waned, the toys I packed occupied her. But as Little Red traveled through the forest with the music creating a spooky storm, it took just one crash of the cymbals to snap her attention back and start her wailing. I sneaked her out and, luckily, found a mirror to cheer her back up (what a little narcissist I'm raising!). We came back in and she tolerated a few more minutes but her antsy movements and discontented grunts let us know we had better be on our way. She lasted nearly the full hour!

This outing has created a great sense of anticipation in me for more such adventures as she gets older. The world does get a whole lot shinier when you see it through new eyes...

Daily Memory: Make Me a Believer

2009-10-17T10:27:00.002-06:00

Sitting, feeding Norah yesterday, I told her I would love her forever. Then, I started thinking about forever. Being an agnostic, that can be a pretty daunting thing. I've often wondered what I will tell her when she asks me about the purpose of this life or what comes after. "To be a good person" and "We'll find out when we get there" are the best I have to offer right now.

Sitting there, looking into her eyes, made me hope, though, that there is something more, that we are connected by more than our flesh and blood, that there is something after this world. Because I don't think I ever want to stop being her mom.

No Daily Memory and No Right Answers

2009-10-16T08:52:00.003-06:00

Some days just aren't memorable. Yesterday was one of those days. I'm ok with it.

And if it's ok with you, I'm going to forgo the personal (well at least in regards to me) for the political today.

Last week, I was listening to The Current on CBC Radio. They were doing a feature on pre-term births and part of the show focused on the social justice issues. You can listen to it here.

I had never before considered the political implications or social justice issues created by preterm births.

At a surface glance, it is miraculous that medical advancements are able to keep babies so young alive (the youngest viable baby is 24 weeks and are 8oz and 8 inches long). But when you consider that these miracles are reserved only for women with access to medical care in wealthy nations, it tarnishes that shiny label.

North America has the second highest rate of pre-term births in the world, second only to Africa (yes, there are some issues with the definition of preterm, but even so, the numbers are shocking). The reasons for preterm births between "developing" and "developed" regions could not be more different. Malnutrition, lack of access to medical care, women's rights issues and poor access to birthcontrol are causing premature babies in Africa. Smoking, drinking, drug use, health issues among the poor (such as diabetes and obesity), and our advancements in medical science are causing them here. As Anna-Maria stated, because of the disparity between the rich and the poor, here in Canada we have both sets of problems.

While I don't want to dismiss the issues among the impoverished and oppressed in our nation, my fascination during this particular discussion was with the privileged.

Pregnancy is now an option for those it wasn't before... so long as they have money. Fertility treatments are causing more multiple pregnancies, which are far more likely to be preterm. Older women, at the limits of natural childbearing age, are more likely to conceive, and again, at a much higher risk of preterm labour.

So what?

Well, preterm babies are far more likely to experience major health issues such as jaundice, and delayed brain development. And in a country with public healthcare, this could have major implications should the rates continue to rise. There are also implications for the children themselves and the quality of life they will have once they have been saved.

The questions here become, do we "save" babies just because we can? Do we try to give every woman every chance to carry her own baby no matter what? Do we increase the odds for mothers and ignore the increasing risk? Where do we draw the line? Who gets to decide?

It is easy for me to sit here and say that women should have to undergo this test and that in order to ascertain whether or not they can carry a baby to term and if not, then no fertility or invitro treatment should be given. After all, it was easy for me to have a baby. It is easy for me to say that if a baby is under this many weeks or showing signs of this condition or that that no extraordinary measures should be taken to save her. After all, my baby was full term. Would it be so easy to look someone I love in the eye and say those same things? No. The political always comes back to the personal and that's where it gets hard. I would like to believe that if I delievered a baby at 24 weeks, that I would not choose to sentence her to a life of complex medical issues. I hope I would be strong enough to say, "Let her go" but I have never been in that situation. And what if it was 25 weeks? Or 26?

As a citizen in an aging nation, I must admit that I am uncomfortable at the idea of both our oldest and our youngest Canadians requiring more and more medical attention. Can we afford to care for these lives that we are saving? If the government is unwilling to increase funding to do so, then where will the cuts be made? Which lists will get longer? What services will we lose? At what point to the rights of the group supercede the rights of the individual? Again, easy to say with my fingers tapping out my opinion onto a screen and with my baby sleeping in the next room.

As a woman, I am uncomfortable with the idea of the government regulating my right to reproduce. We have come so far in terms of empowering women to pursue dreams without fear of spinsterism. I don't want to force women out of the workplace by closing options for them. I also do not want women settling with a partner because time is running out (not that a partner is necessary, but should they desire to have things that way). Perhaps the issue here is that the role of women has changed dramatically but the role of men has not. Maybe if more men were willing to stay home, women would be more at ease with taking a short hiatus from their careers and not see a baby as a step back.

As a human,the fact that only certain women can afford to roll the reproductive dice again and again, does not sit well with me. For so many women, there is only one shot. Either their reproductive organs work or they don't. End of story. But if you can afford the treatments, that changes things, and that makes me sad for those who can't. This uneasy feeling carries over to the babies. Why are some babies lives valued over others? If you are fortunate enough to be born in the right place and to the right parents, you will be cared for. If you are born in the wrong nation or to the wrong parents, your entire existence will be suffering and death may not come quick enough.

I thought that perhaps writing about this issue would give me some insight, would help me think through this, but in the end, it has only confused me further. One thing that crystalized for me, though, is that being a parent creates so many more shades of gray.

Monkey See Monkey Do

2009-10-15T08:47:00.004-06:00

I am really loving this stage of Norah's development. I never understood what people meant by "It gets so much more rewarding" when they talked about older babies. Now I do. It's amazing to see her respond, especially when she responds in kind.

Our favourite games of late are copycat games. It started with our use of sign language while she was in her jumper. Daddy/Mommy Jump, Norah Jump is great fun, though tiring.

Recently, while feeding her, she excitedly slapped her table tray and I did it back, mimicking her. She smiled and did it again. So did I. Since then, any time I tap the table or slap my knee, she does the same.

"Singing" is the euphemism we have given to when she yells and cups her hand over her mouth to make "Wahwah" noises. Daddy/Mommy Sing, Norah Sing, is also a big favourite and also a great party trick.

A while back, Norah started reaching her hands to the sky for no apparent reason. Sometimes it was just one, sometimes both, straining straight up, pressed hard against the sides of her head. There was no rhyme or reason to when or why she did it, but for the past few days, I have been mirroring the action back to her, cheering "Yay!" each time. Now, when I do it first, she copies me and smiles.

These communications between parent and child seem trivial as I write them here, but when it happens in real life, it is like a whole new universe is cracking wide open for us to explore. And let's be honest, understanding does not often come easy for most families, so I will take what I can get!

Daily Memories: Good Morning Sunshine

2009-10-14T22:20:00.004-06:00

Norah slept from 7:30 p.m.-4:15 a.m. and from 4:30-7:10 last night. Usually, Chris is the one to get her in the mornings. He moves her exersaucer to the bathroom and she watches herself play in the mirror while he gets ready. This morning, however, both of us slept in and he hopped in the shower thinking he would just get her after he was finished. Sure enough, just as the water turned on, I heard a giddy squeal. I turned on the monitor and there was my baby girl, just pleased as punch at being awake and alive.

I went into her room. As soon as she saw me, her entire body fluttered with excitement and she let out another exclamation. We spent a few moments just admiring one another, grinning ear to ear as I tickled her belly and kissed her forehead.

"Up?" I asked.

Her arms stretched towards me and she kicked her confirmation. Lifting her to my chest, she immediately planted her cheek against mine babbling "Mummmumumum" amongst other chatter. She's been on this "mum" kick lately. I know it has nothing to do with me, it's just a new sound, but it does let me know that when she is ready, she will be able to call me by name.

I took her to the couch and sat her facing me. She lovingly headbutted me a few times and eventually landed one of her sloppy kisses right on my cheek. She petted my furry housecoat and continued smiling and cooing for quite some time. Eventually, she just leaned into me, again resting her warm cheek against mine, hugging me with her little arms, and stared out the window at the remaining leaves dancing in the wind and the smoke puffing from the neighbour's chimney.

I just knew it was going to be a good day.

Daily Memories: A Taste of Normal

2009-10-14T08:50:00.003-06:00

Sorry I didn't post this last night. I didn't get in until 10:00. That's right. I was out. On a weeknight. Until 10.

It all started when our friend A, called and asked me to go for coffee. It's been so long since I got an impromptu call like that I wasn't even sure to do. I tried to find a reason why I couldn't (not because I didn't want to, but because it seemed like their should be one) but there was none to be found so I turned to Chris and said, "Can I go out for coffee with A tonight?" I felt kind of like a 15 year old asking her mom for the keys to the car, but I wanted to make sure he couldn't think of a reason either.

His reply? "Only if R (A's husband) comes over here."

A arranged it and at 8:00 they arrived. Chris was out, slated to be back in a few minutes and so A and I took off, leaving R in charge if Norah woke up.

We headed to Stone's Throw where we each ordered a hot bevie and settled on splitting a brownie. We found one of the last tables and settled into some great conversation. We talked about work (A's), parenting (mine), and dreams for the future. Not once did the conversation wane. In fact, we probably could have filled a few more hours, but at 9:50, we got a 10 minute warning from the barista.

It was one of the most refreshing things I have done in a long time. Thanks, A.

Daily Memories: B is for Ball, T is for Thanksgiving

2009-10-12T19:42:00.002-06:00

Sitting on the floor in a circle are Norah, her oldest cousin, C, who is 5, her middle cousin, S, who is 3, her youngest, but still older cousin, O, who is one year older than Norah, and me (or I? I can't tell, this sentence is too long). A beach ball as tall as Norah when she sits, is being passed from me to a kid and back to me again. S is super excited each time she catches it, throwing it as high as she can when she passes it back. C punches it when it comes close, sending it sailing through the air and over his sister, O's head as she scrambles to her feet screaming, "I'll get it! I'll get it!" The pride on her face when she throws it back to me is heartwarming. Norah flaps like she's going to take off each time the ball rolls her way and doesn't notice when it hits her in the face. She squeals and laughs as O tackles C, taking him to the floor.

To think, next year this time, it will be her, running and yelling, "I'll get it!" or throwing that same ball that she couldn't even hold today.

Is there anything more amazing than parenthood? Seriously.

Above all else, I am thankful for this chance-- to know a love unlike any other, to observe the miracle of life each and everyday. I am so blessed.

Daily Memories: Annnnnnnnnnd SCENE!

2009-10-11T22:07:00.003-06:00

As some of you may know, Chris and I met through improv. I was a senior on our school's team and his sister was an intern at the school and our coach. He came to help out as he belonged to a professional improvisational comedy troupe. And just to be clear, it wasn't until two years later when the troupe started running workshops and I signed on to be a part of their opening act that we started dating.

Though it has been years since either of us has been on a stage, we often find ourselves starting scenes with one another in the middle of mundane daily routines. Out of no where, one of us will put on an accent or assume some character and the other just knows to go along with it. I love knowing that make-believe will be a regular part of Norah's life.

Recently, Norah's stuffed animals have become a new outlet for my improvisational urges. They have names and accents and, yes, I realize that this kind of play is almost entirely for my own benefit at this point in her development, but perhaps that's for the best... it seems I need some practise...

Today, while Chris was changing Norah's diaper, I was trying to distract her using her Ugly Doll and her rubber duck. Please do click on the links for a visual before continuing.

I began:

Once upon a time, there was an Ugly and a Duckling...

The Ugly was ugly and the duckling was... a freak because ducks are not supposed to be pink and white.

So, they liked to spend time together because they were both rejected by society.

One day, the Ugly and the duckling went down to the lake and saw a swan...

The end.

Stellar story, Mom. Now Norah knows that if you don't fit in to society's concept of beauty and normalcy, you will be rejected and have to hang out with others who have also been rejected. Oh, and she will never understand plot structures... though she may eventually come to appreciate Hemingway... not that I am comparing myself to Hemingway...

Good thing all she really got from it was her mother babbling incoherently but with enough inflection that it kept her from sticking her hands in her own poop.

I think my brain has atrophied.

Daily Memories: Go Norah! Go!

2009-10-11T08:36:00.002-06:00

As you know, I have been quite concerned about Norah's lack of interest in independent movement. Visions of me carrying her to her first day of school have inspired me to take action.I put her on her stomach, make her watch me crawl, prop her in crawling position over, and over...

She has demonstrated some progress lately, she now turns when in the seated position. When she leans, she tucks her feet to the side as if she is going to move to her hands and knees (though if you actually let her go with it, her face meets the floor). The other day, at a playdate, I put her down and she actually held her crawling stance and rocked back once before dropping to her belly...

Norah loves our phone. She would chew on it and push buttons all day if she could. Normally, we discourage this behaviour. Today, however, I had her in the crawling position and she was giving up far too early for my liking. So, we put the phone a few feet ahead. She gave a few, half-hearted attempts at reaching for it and then was ready to give up again. She started to roll to her side.

Grasping her by her middle and raising her to her hands and knees, I shimmied her in the direction of the phone. Chris was cracking up at my little puppet routine.

When she reached the phone, we both cheered. Norah slobbered all over it... and promptly rolled to her back.

I promise, you all will be among the first to know should she actually decide to move of her own volition...

Memory of the Day: Wave Bye-Bye, Norah!

2009-10-09T22:54:00.002-06:00

We have a group of friends with whom we meet once a month for supper out at an ethnic restaurant. We call it the Eat Your Way Around the World club. Since Norah was born, most months only one of us has attended. This month, though, we both wanted to be able to attend as we were returning to the best Mexican food restaurant on earth (or at least this side of Mexico).

I booked my mother and father to come and babysit for the evening. We were slated to leave just after six and due to an early wake up and subsequently early naps, I was expecting Norah to go to bed by 6:00. Knowing this gave me great relief. Trying to explain everything that Norah's routine entails can be exhausting and there is always worry that something will go wrong.

As it is her nature, it would seem, Norah decided a change of plans was necessary. Six o'clock came and went and there was no sign of her slowing down. It was clear that we were going to have to leave her to be put to bed by my parents. After a quick verbal run-down of the basic how-to (watch for eye-rubbing or yawning, heat the bottle, her white noise will already be on, give her the bottle, put her down, let her cry for five and then for ten, watch the monitor, if she wakes up after45 minutes, do this...), we had to go.

Norah was playing in her exersaucer in front of our giant windows (she loves to watch the leaves blowing in the wind and the birds in the sky... or should I say she used to. Now she will have to learn to love the snow...). I went over and gave her a kiss. Chris did the same. We have been trying to teach her to wave so we both waved vigorously on our way out the door and received sweet smiles, but no waves, in return. We were about to get into the car and I couldn't resist. I turned and marched over the lawn and played a few rounds of peek-a-boo with her through the window. She was puzzled, but grinned in spite of her confusion.

We hopped in the car, drove away and for the first time in her life, I was genuinely at ease about being away from her (in times previous, though my head was always at ease, my heart still felt a pull). It turns out I was right to be so. After playing for over an hour with her grandma and grandpa (not one peep regarding our depature), she went to sleep without any fussing at all and has stayed down since.

It was a great night with good people, engaging conversations, and amazing food, but what I want to remember most is watching her watching me through that foggy window, puzzled, but happy nonetheless, safe and warm with two other people who love her as much as we do.

Parenting really is a lifelong lesson in letting go.

Daily Memories

2009-10-09T08:21:00.002-06:00

This post, by Gail Vaz-Oxlade gave me an idea that will help me a.) be more present in my life and b.) blog more. What's good for me is good for you, folks!

It is so easy to let life just happen to us. Sunday rolls around and we wonder where the week went. September rolls around and we wish we’d taken more advantage of the summer. What did we do with all our time? We look up and it’s time to hang the lights and buy a tree. And then it’s a new year. (The only thing that seems to take forever is February!)

Most of the things we do with our life aren’t memorable. I have had moments when I was so happy I would pinch myself hard and say to myself, “Remember this!” My happy memories do not come from doing exciting things, though exciting is easier to recall. Some of my happiest memories are of cloud watching, laying in the grass and listening to the crickets, feeling my horses nuzzle me, and soaking up the sun on a beach listening to the water laps the shore.

Imagine if you could orchestrate each day to hold a memory.

So that's what I plan to do. Each night, before bed, I will post one memory from the day. This will be in addition to my maternal monologues. From today until Thanksgiving Monday will be my trial run. Let me know what you think!