Brothers

One of the fun things about having a second child is being able to watch the budding relationship developing between Andrew and Aaron. When we first brought Aaron home, Andrew was really uncomfortable with him. He didn't want to look at him, touch him or talk to him. They were aukward strangers.
Over time, he slowly started to be curious about his new little brother. He would watch me bath him and ask to help, then give him one swipe of the washcloth and then dart away in case this new creature bit him. He would swoop down before bedtime and gently pat the baby's cheek or kiss his ear.

But how long could he resist the adoring stares and excited coos? How long could he be watched so closely before he had to give in and start enjoying this new little person who already loved him so much?
In the last few weeks, I have watched these two boys start to play together. They can now share a bath (albeit a very splashy one) and Andrew always wants to play games Aaron can participate in. "Can Aaron play, too?". He loves to imagine that Aaron is coveting his prized possesions: "Aaron wants some of my catelope. But only I can eat it." And in the way of controlling big brothers everywhere, he already wants to tell Aaron what to do "No, aaron. Don't chew your hands. No."

Aaron, for his part, continues to smile big happy smiles when he sees his brother. He happily tolerates having his arms tugged and his feet tickled and his ears poked. He still loves to watch his brother (in fact, if given the choice between mom and brother, he always chooses brother), and I am sure he will be a big copycat as soon as he can be. He adores and looks up to his big brother.

Things are still aukward. Andrew kept rolling Aaron off his lap while I was taking these pictures. Andrew always needs something urgently when I'm nursing Aaron. He often says "You are not allowed to touch Aaron, mommy. Touch ME." They will have their squabbles, I am sure, and their arguments and struggles. But it is such a delight to already see such love and such fun developing between my two little boys. I can't wait to watch these boys grow up together -- two children are harder, but much more fulfilling, than one.

Amusing Myself or How you know you're an Art Nerd

Do you know what I have taken to doing to amuse myself and keep my mind active while I read "Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel" or "Sheep in a Jeep" or whatever for the millionth time? Well, I'm going to tell you. Generally I occupy my mind with one of three things:

Method One: If the book is poetic in form, I identify and analyze the effectiveness of the literary devices used in the book. Alliteration, repitition, rhyme and rhythm are the most common culprits. Its silly, really, but sometimes I will try to skip a portion of the book whose rhythm or imagery I am not fully satisfied with. Andrew usually catches me in the act and makes me read it, however.

Method Two: If the book has a narrative structure, I analyze the authour's perspective, world view, and the implicit virtues emphasized in the book. I look for archetypes and echos of stories and characters from myth and legend. And I put together little theses on the underlying meanings of the book. Sometime I'll share my criticism of Cat in the Hat, which involves Dr Seuss's misuse of the trickster figure to promote the concept of a consequence free society with you. But not tonight.

Method Three: I try to work out the medium and techniques used in the artwork. Is is watercolour, acrylic or oil paint, markers, ink or a mix? Did the authour sketch the paintings first and then watercolour them in? Did they use the pencil crayons or the watercolours first? Was it oil paint or oil pastel? Did they get that effect by using bumpy paper or by using a special kind of brush? Does it look like they drew from life or from their imaginations? What artists or schools of art or design might have influenced them?

I think I might need to get a Masters in Children's Picture Book Literature when this stage of my life is over . . .

Jill's Adventures in Single Parenting

I also survived Dave's trip to California. I just slept with the boys when they were both sleeping, and didn't expect to get more done than I reasonably could get done while also watching both of them. The ironic thing is that my house ended up being just as clean or cleaner than it is when Dave is also around, and I was less stressed out about housework. Becuase I cleaned as I went I kept up with things quite well. In fact, I discovered an amusing fact. Most of the women I talked to were slightly reticent in admitting it, but would generally say that they felt more relaxed taking care of their children and households by themselves than they did when their husbands were around. I think its just the general lack of sexual tension and unspoken expectation in the air (these were all women with very young children, where many things tend to get left undone . . . ). I was getting bored by the end, and was glad to have Dave home to help, but it was kind of refreshing for a few days.

My abseloute lifesaver (no, Sharon, I'm not just writing this because I know you read my blog) was my trip to Nipawin in the middle of the week. We got away to somewhere where I had company, Andrew had distractions and someone else fed us. Despite the complete chaos that descended upon the household (Sharon's youngest was jealous of my baby and had a fit, and her middle child just decided one day to take away everything Andrew was playing with -- in fact she woke up from a nap just to take a book from Andrew and go back to sleep) when we arrived on the scene, it was refreshing. The most amusing part of the trip was when we took all our kids on an excursion to the Co-op grocery store and took over all their novelty shopping carts. Then I had to nurse Aaron, so we took over the entire cafeteria area with our children and novelty carts and me breatfeeding in public and Marie spilling juice everywhere and Bea and Andrew fighting over who go to lift the door levers on the novelty truck cart and Sharon feeding the kids crackers from a box she hadn't paid for yet. It was pretty classic. Another instance of me becoming the woman I swore I would never be.

When we got home I took the troops with me to youth group (nothing like making pizza with a dozen teenagers, a toddler and a baby). Fortunately, Andrew is starting to recognize some of the kids, and it was at our church which is familliar to him, so he did really well. The kids totally underappreciated the cd of Dean Martin singing Italien Love Songs that Sharon and I had downloaded, but I made them listen to it anyway. And of course they had flour fights, and threatened each other with hot peppers and did all those things teenagers will do.

Friday night I was sick and threw up everything I had eaten. At first I thought it was food poisoning, then the flu, but it may also have been from eating nothing but dark chocolate mini-eggs and coffee between lunch and 8:30 pm when I finished making my pizza. Anyway, I was super weak and dehydrated and nauseated and trying to breastfeed the next day, so I called up an older couple of professional grandparents in my church, and they took Andrew away to see a farm and eat lunch with them so I could recouperate.

Sunday we went to church, and Monday, Dave was home. All in all it was about as peaceful and fun as I think it could have been. Andrew was completely settled, becuase he knew where Dave was and when he was coming back, Aaron was, well, Aaron and I was calm and other than getting sick and then really bored, it was all good.

Dave's Adventures in Car Buying and Pastoral Care

Dave is one of those people who, if attending a party (and not asleep on the couch) will be holed up in the corner with a small group of people, hearing their life's stories and discussing their faith issues and questions. I don't know how this happens, but it inevitably does. Even when he's in a bar in Potatello, Idaho or a coffee shop on Hollywood Boulevard, it still happens.

About a week ago Dave flew down to Los Angeles to pick up the car he bought on ebay (a very nice green Suzuki Esteem station wagon). He flew into LA, took the bus to meet the nuns who sold him the car, and then hung around LA for a few days and drove back. Typically, the highlights of his trip were not seeing a major celebrity, or seeing the sights of LA or Las Vegas (although he did that), but it was encountering a number of quirky people along the way.

First, the Carmelite nuns who live in a trailer and are setting up a larger convent and the stations of the cross in wine country in Southern California. He walked the stations of the cross with them, was blessed by a guy who had a shard of the original cross, and got to sit on their brand new statue of Jesus.

Next, the black rapper from France who he met in a coffee shop in LA. They mostly talked politics.

Dave ended up with a $75 parking ticket because he was ten minutes late moving his car, but he figured the 2 hour conversation was well worth it. He says you can't see them, but this guy was travelling with his two hommies who sat with them in the coffee shop.

Finally, there was the group of lax Mormons he ran into in a bar in Idaho. He ended up hanging out with them (at one of their houses) until 4am, discussing religion and eating their pizza. Everyone else had been in a wedding party together a few weeks earlier and then there was Dave (he didn't get a picture of them, unfortunately.

These "chance" encounters ended up being the highlight of his trip. He said the scenery was beautiful, and of course he enjoyed checking out all the life and culture in LA, but for him it was all about these interesting people. They renewed his sense of calling and reminded him of why he does what he does . . . because he really is interested in people.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention

that I got my hair cut about two weeks ago. It is easy to style (I can literally wet it, put some goop in it and leave it), very cool and utterly impractical. Why impractical, you ask? Well, its sort of a long shaggy cut (think Kathryn's "Bon Jovi" cut from Lake of the Trees for those of you who were there that fateful summer) and the top layer comes to a length that slides behind my ears but does not quite fit into a ponytail, so when I pull my hair back, I must use a thousand barettes to sort of pull the top layer back, but of course because it is my hair it creeps out and hangs in funny little bits everywhere . . .

Okay, let me put it this way. For the last few years I have come to the conclusion that since my hair is naturally sort of wild and unmanageable, the best thing to do is to get a haircut where it looks like its SUPPOSED to be wild and unmanageable (note to self: a good policy for hair, but not so good for children). And this cut does that. Anyway, it is good hair. I'll post a picture when I think to take one of it.

April is the cruelest month . . .

It is snowing today. Also, it snowed Tuesday and Wednesday. Oh, and Saturday. It has been melting in the afternoons, though, and the slow melt is much better for the farmers and does prevent the lowlands from flooding, so I guess its all good. But seriously, can someone tell Mother Nature that it is APRIL now? I guess good old TS Eliot was right.

Is this child for real?

So, while I was off reassuring Andrew in his mid-nap waking that I am in fact still here and have not abandoned him, I had Aaron sitting on my lap, leaning back in typical little baby fashion in the crook of my knee. And what does he do? He pulls himself forward so that he's staring at his feet. Like, as in, he pulled his whole torso up to sitting. This child is insanely strong. Just had to boast about my baby.

A Word of Advice to People without Children

Dear Friends who do not have children;

When buying toys for my child, please consider how they will effect me, the adult involved. There are two ways in which I would like my needs to be considered. The first way involves the annoyance factor of the toy. If the toy makes a noise or flashes or otherwise creates a cute distraction for the child, this child will want to reapeat this experience. About a thousand times. So please consider the parent who will also have to hear this noise or see this display a thousand times. Will they be thinking pleasant thoughts as the cute cuddly lamb prays your child to bed again, or will they be cursing you as the latest Elmo-inspired toy sings that oh-so-charming song for the ten thousandth time? The same applies to books. If you would not want to read that story at least a million times, don't buy the book.

Second, consider the breakability factor. Young children get extremely attatched to their toys, especially to anything they are really interested in. This may promp well meaning childless people to purchase cheap, dollar or bargain store version of this adored thing (such as a tractor with many small parts). If you choose to do this, please consider the durability of this purchase. If the toy falls apart in 10 min., the child will be crushed. If the toy can be put back together, but continues to fall apart every 10 minutes for the next two months, the parent will again be left cursing you.

So, childless friends, be kind to us hard working parents and make our lives a little bit easier. Buy toys that work. Buy toys that are not annoying. Buy toys your friends will thank you for 2 days or 2 weeks or 2 months from the date or purchase. Thanks.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

California, ebay and nuns.

Dave bought a car last night on ebay. If it was anyone else, this might sound like a rash and impulsive move. But as is true with everything with Dave, it was a carefully calculated and researched decision.

Since my break down two weeks ago Dave has decided that we need a new car. First, we determined that we were not ready to get a mini van just yet. No matter how practical they are, I am not yet ready to make the move to future soccer momness quite yet. We also won't get an SUV because, well, we don't need one and we're cheap when it comes to gas. So we are buying that old, unpopular stand-by from the '70s, the station wagon.

Next he got the Lemon Aide guide and did his reasearch. He determined that we should buy one of three station wagons that was within our price range, etc, etc. So far, this was all pretty normal. We always do this stuff, except when we have a lapse of judgement and let his brother buy us a car.

After this, Dave started hunting for cars on the internet. He did this for his motorbike, too, so I wasn't surprised. I was, however, surprised when he told me last week that he had seen a 2000 Suzuki Esteem up for auction on ebay for $2000. He said it was from California and looked like it was in good shape. He got the serial number thing and checked if it had been in any accidents, which it hadn't. He looked in to bringing the car across the border and calculated how long it would take him to drive home from California and how much it would cost to fly there one way. He determined that if he got the car for under $3200, he could justify the trip and the drive because it would still be cheaper than buying the same car in Canada.

Last night he won the auction for the car for $2700 dollars. He emailed the sellers to pay a down payment and discovered that the car was being sold by a convent of conservative Catholic nuns. It was, in fact, the very convent our friend Brian went to retreat at 4 years ago (he stopped to visit us in B.C. on his way down and tried to convince Dave to drop everything and come with him for a week). They said they will be interested to talk to Dave because they're trying to develop some sort of eccumenical something or another.

In any case, the long and the short of it is that it looks like next week Dave will be flying down to Los Angeles and bussing out to a Catholic convent, where he will visit with the nuns, pick up our new car and drive back across the US to Saskatchewan. How crazy is that? And how jealous am I that I can't go too?

Why our house will never get decorated.

We had a green mat in out back hallway. It was about the width of our hallway by about a meter long. It was not spectacular, but it did add some colour to our very neutral back hallway, and it allowed several people to step inside and take off their shoes at the same time. Unfortunately, due to many washings, the rubberized stuff on the back was coming off, and it had a tendency to shift and bulge. I guess this was really bothering Dave.

The other day I woke up to find this in my hallway instead of my normal carpet. During the previous day, Dave had went out and bought this carpet and thown the old carpet out. Now, I must say there are several positives to this carpet: it sticks to the floor, it is colourful, and it has a nice scrachy surface for scraping off your shoes. It does however lack one thing: size. It is a bit narrow for our entry way. People entering our house have to line up to take their shoes off without getting the linoleum wet or dirty, and frankly I think it looks ridiculous. Dave doesn't see what my issue with the carpet is since he usually enters the house by himself, and it does stick to the floor well, so he is not irritated with it at all.

Suddenly, a couple of weeks ago, Andrew developed a laundry room phobia. He refused to enter the laundry room. Instead, when I did laundry he would stand in the hallway and call, "Mommy, please come back to me". It took me about a week to figure out that he didn't like the feeling of the carpet on his feet and so refused to walk over it. I explained to him that he could go around the carpet, and that I wasn't going to lift him into the laundry room. So he began to meticulously lean down, flip the carpet in half and crawl over the soft rubberized underside of the carpet.

Last week, I moved the carpet like this. It is now even less practical, but it doesn't look quite as silly, and my son can once more enter the laundry room in peace.

The Demolition Site

Presently, our favorite video series are the Mighty Machines. These are TV Ontario kids shows (Good ol' TVO) where they have taken cameras into various places where big machines are working and taken film of them working. Then they give them weird names and voices that talk as they go about their business (in The Construction Site, Skinny the crane has an inexplicablely bad Italian accent, and Dino the big claw thing in this video growls incoherently as he destroys things, while the Mac Truck starts every sentence with "YO!"). The lastest one we took out was "The Deomolition Site". I must admit this is a really cool video. Basically for 22 min. you watch these two big arm-type machines smash and drag things around. The big claw (Dino) is by far the coolest big Cat I have ever seen. It pulls apart the iron structures that hold up these brick walls and the bricks just crumble in huge sheets. They also blow things up. Specifically two water towers and a giant smoke stack. This reminds me of the great scene in Elizabethtown where Orlando Bloom's character gets all these kids to behave by showing them this video where a construction worker tells the kids he will blow up a house if they promise to listen to their parents. Anyway, the videos are pretty great because there are no annoying whiny kids voices, no aggrivating "you can do it!" or other cheezy self-esteem type messages and no scary parts that give my sensitive child nighmares. Just lots of big machines.

There is one downside; my entire house has been turned into a Demlition site for the last few days. For example, this was a neatly folded and packed box of clothes ready to be stored downstairs. But the front end loader had other plans.

The same with all the alphabet blocks in the living room, the couch cusions, the recycling stacked under the kitchen sink . . . you can only imagine what my house looks like at the end of the day lately.

My apologies

I have been thinking about my blog entries in the last few months, and realized that a number of them are almost inexcusably whiny. I like to keep my blog upbeat, optimistic and funny. I generally only allow myself to complain if I can find an amusing way to do it. Unfortunately my sense of humour has been on a slight hiatus in the last few months, and my complaints have been more ranty than entertaining. Sorry. Hopefully now that my postpartum hormones are rebalancing I shall be back to my usual chipper self. Thanks for sticking it out with me.

"Take a Picture of ME, Mommy"

So, I did. Andrew is big into being a builder lately. This is partially becase he loves to build things and then knock them down, partally becuase he loves to bang everything with his assorted hammers and partially because it gives him an excuse to wear his winter boots and his dad's headphones around the house (his boots were wet this day). As you can see, pants are not a hot ticket item in my house hold.

Rest assured that I do wear pants all the time.

Aaron at almost 2 months

This was yesterday. Look at my son -- he's such a chunk. I laugh whenever I give him a bath or change him completely because I've never had a chubby baby before.

Also, check out those great argyle socks. Classic.

Pancakes

My friend Kris (who has gone hoity-toity now that she lives in New Brunswick and started calling herself "Kristen") wrote a post about her son's love of pancakes.

I have no such story, but I must say, these are some great montages about a wagon full of pancakes. If you haven't had your daily dose of weirdness yet, enjoy.

http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail117.html

6 week check-in

Aaron is almost 7 weeks old and we are all still alive!

We had our 6 week appointment this week, and Aaron is huge! He's 6 kilos or 13lbs 3 oz, and for weight and head ratio he's in the 90th percentile. The doctor says his proportions are great -- he's not fat, he's just a big guy.

We are slowly adjusting to life with two children. I am getting better at getting us all dressed and packed and out the door when I need to in the mornings. I am learning how to breastfeed while getting snacks / taking Andrew potty / putting on dress up clothes / reading and turning pages with another child on my lap. Andrew is starting to sometimes laugh at and talk to his brother, although some days he still ignores him and insists that HE is the littlest baby in the house. He does get nervous if someone else holds him, though, or if he doesn't know where he is, so I think he secretly likes him. Andrew has settled in a gone back to his normal self in many areas.

I had a classic "mother of two young children" moment the other day. Some youth group kids were coming over to help plan youth group, and as they came through the door I had two naked children in the bathroom, Aaron was screaming, and Andrew was covering himself, the potty and the floor in shampoo. And I wonder why I don't have a lot of cool credibility right now?

Sleep -- our eternal battle ground -- is not one of these areas. He has started waking 2 - 3 times a night and crying for mommy if I'm not right next to him. He wakes up more often and also much earlier than Aaron, which is really infuriating. I felt awful because the other day I almost let my first "why can't you be more like your brother?" slip out. He has also stopped napping. When he is tired I try to put him down, but since I no longer have an hour and a half to read / cajole / wrestle back into bed / ignore while staying in the room / cuddle with / replace blankets on / get milk for Andrew, it is rare that I can get him settle enough for long enough to go to sleep. The last two days have been exceptions, but he has a cold, so I don't know if that will continue. What this means, since Aaron doesn't usually fall asleep for good until 11 and Andrew wakes up around 6 and between to two of them they wake up several times a night, is that I am really tired and tapped out.

Anyway, enough complaining. Aaron is doing great. He still sleeps a lot, and is usually content. Most of his complaining happens when he is really tired and Andrew keeps waking him up. His head support is really good already and he loves to ride forward facing in the sling and see what is happening. The other day when I was cooking and chopping a bunch of things for youth group he actually fussed to come up in the sling and see what I was doing, which I though was funny. He just started smiling last week, but I don't see many smiles yet. This is partially due to a lack of time to interact and play with just him. Today I was napping with him and he woke up and I though he wanted to nurse, so I flipped him to my other side and fell back to sleep. About 3 min. later I got tapped in the face with a little fist, and when I opened my eyes he was smiling at me. It was a pretty major accomplishment at 7 weeks old, and pretty cute.

Andrew lives almost entirely in his head. I am no longer allowed to refer to him as Andrew. He corrects me with "I'm being Kitty Number 6 right now" or "I'm being a goat right now". Its quite funny. The other night, he woke up in the middle of the night and I ran in to see that he was okay. He sat up and said "The puppy is happy." and went back to sleep. So for all that he is very frustrating right now, he is also very very cute and funny.

I am hanging in there, although I am chronically behind on everything and feel completely disorganized. But then I ask myself "is this really new?". I decided to fast from my online mommy forum for lent and I think it was a mistake. Its been really hard so far. I miss you, MDC mammas!

Pre-Raphelite Hair

At present, I have Pre-Raphelite hair. It is long and red and streams out romantically from anything I attempt to use to contain it. If I were to sail down the local creek in a row boat with a white dress on, I would surely be mistaken for the Lady of Shallot.

I must say that while hair like this is excellent for mooning around in rowboats and floating to your death, or for swooping dramtically through a field on horseback to kiss an errant night, or regally weilding a sword as you go to knight a brave hero, it is not so convenient for, say, flopping a baby over your shoulder or trying to look repsectable for a Shrove Tuesday Pancake Supper when you have just removed your touque and put a baby sling over your head after your toddler had decided to "brush" your braid two minutes before you leave home. Essentially, while an excellent hair cut for your average swooning heroine, long, slippery, unmanageable hair is not convenient for your average mother of two. No matter how lovely it looks the one time a year when you can actually wear it loose and down without it getting stuck in small childrens' mouths, spit up on, climbed over top of and tightly grasped in tiny fingers.

So now the problem is: What to do with my hair? I am presently in what I have decided to call my "Earth Mother Phase" -- ie -- crunchy attatchment parenting quilt making girl. There are only so many hairstyles that are appropriate to this look and ideal. Long and free flowing is one option. Very short and choppy is the other. Dave hates my hair short, and plus I did that for 5 years in B.C. and only a very few hairdressers could do something with my hair that looked good for more than 5 min. after I left their shop. But long and flowing is so impractical, especially when it is so heavy it gives you headaches. So I am on a quest for a hairstyle. I'll keep you posted.

An Escape! and a Rescue! in 24 hrs!!!

This post is so exciting I decided it had to be written in "lucinda grande" font.

I escaped on Saturday!

Despite having been woken up at 3:30 am and listening to my son say "I am angry at you, mommy. I want to wake up" and "I need something to eat. I need something to drink. I need to play." for 2 hrs, and five or six inches of snow that had fallen the night before, we left for the one hour drive to visit Sharon and her children. Yes, not only did I leave the house, I left our town. It was very exciting. The roads were pretty good -- there were only treacherous, slippery sections (nothing like blowing snow over top of icy roads) for about 20 min. of the drive. For another half of the drive I went 80 km/h because the roads had a thin layer of ice -- the kind that is only a problem in case of a sudden stop or strong gust of wind. But after about an hour and a half, I made it there. I was quite desperate to get out of the house.

Andrew and I had thrilling conversations on the way there. Here is an example:

"Am I an excavator, mommy?"
"Yes, you are."
"I'm a big excavator. Are you a bulldozer, mommy?"
"Yes, I am a bulldozer."
"I am a happy big excavator. Are you a happy bulldozer?"
"I am a happy bulldozer, excavator."
"What is Aaron, mommy?"
"Um . . . Aaron is a tiny skid steer."
"We are all driving -- the big excavator, the little bulldozer and the little skid steer."
"Yes Andrew."
"Am I an excavator, mommy?"

I arrived around 1pm, with both children happily sleeping in the car. And then I took them out of the car. At which point they both woke up.

I don't know if I have mentioned before that if Andrew wakes up in a different place than he went to sleep in, he is NOT HAPPY. This is not just a small moment of upset. This is a huge no-holds barred fit during which he clings to me and screams and usually needs to have something to drink and then calms down after about 20 min. So, that is what Andrew did. He arrived at our friends' house screaming. And Aaron had a dirty diaper and a bit of a rash, so he also started screaming. So I had to try to change Aaron while Andrew tried to climb on my lap while the kids all wanted to say hi while Sharon tired to get the last details of lunch ready and distract Andrew so I could calm down Aaron so we could all eat lunch. It was madness for about half an hour. After that, everyone except Andrew settled down for lunch. Andrew was too excited and wanted to get Edmund's toys out right away, so I let him, since he had already been awake for 10 hours and it was only lunch time, and it meant the rest of us could eat in peace.

After that we had a nice visit. Andrew played with Sharon's older two kids. I got to see my god daughter in her very cute walking and babbling stage (the stage where they talk at you with all seriousness and earnestness in a completely foreign language). Sharon and I both had a chance to complain and commiserate about the agonies of February in Saskatchewan. Sharon chased my son around for me, so I didn't have to get off the couch while nursing Aaron, and we did eventually get Andrew to eat something. We had our traditional mid-afternoon cake and coffee (although because Andrew and Bea are done with naps there was a bit more cake involved than there used to be, and a bit less peace and quiet).

At one point during out time, Andrew and Edmund decided to go and play in the basement. They were playing happily for a very long time -- we didn't hear any crying or shouting or arguing. After about an hour we realized that we were experiencing a rather extended period of peace and quiet, and we instantly knew that it was too good to be true. I went down to investigate and found Andrew and Edmund sitting side by side on the couch, spellbound. Edmund had figured out how to put on a DVD by himself. I had to chase them back upstairs and that was the end of our peace and quiet.

Around 6:30 I decided that it was time for me to go home soon. My car's electrical system is on the fritz, and only one front light is working and I have no taillights, but I figured I would just use my high beams and drive slowly. I packed us all up into the car, and started on the road. At the edge of town Aaron started fussing, so I pulled into the gas station parking lot and changed him and nursed him, then kept driving. At the back of my mind was the thought, "I've been awake since 3:30 this morning. Maybe this isn't such a good idea". But I kept driving.

Another 20 min. or so down the road, Aaron started fussing again. Andrew had (finally) fallen asleep, after being awake for 16 hrs straight. I pulled over to the side of the road and started nursing Aaron. After about 5 min. I turned on the radio. After about 15 min. the car was getting hot, so I turned off the engine and just left the radio and the hazard lights on. I continued to have to change and nurse Aaron intermittently for about another 10 or 15 min. At this point I was thinking, "It is getting late. Maybe I should just go back and head out in the morning." Since the car was getting cold, I thought I would start it up again and get the heat going.

The car did not start. Not even a dull attempt to turn over. Nothing. I tried turning on the lights. They were fading fast. The radio stopped working. The battery was slowly dying, and I was stuck 25 min. out of town in a slowly cooling car with a toddler and a six week old baby.

I looked around and saw that there was a farm not too far away, but I didn't' know how I would get us all there in one piece. I couldn't seem to find our hazard lights in the dark, and anyway, no one had stopped to see if we were all right when I was nursing Aaron, so why would anyone stop now. I tried the car again, just in case I had been imagining things, but it was still dead. Finally, I started flashing my high beams at oncoming traffic in what I hoped resembled and SOS Morse code pattern. The second or third car stopped.

Barry was a very kind man. He couldn't jump me (I never did figure out why), but he did lend me his cell phone. When I couldn't remember or find Sharon's phone number, and it kept coming up as long distance, he offered to give me a ride, but said he couldn't take the car seat because he already had two people in his car. I told him I had a toddler sleeping in the back of my car as well as the baby in my lap. He offered to drive his passengers into town and then drive back to pick us up. I accepted.

The rest of the story is quite predictable. We transferred the children into the back of his car. He drove us back into town. I called Dave, who told us what to do, and Sharon's husband and I went and jump started the car and drove it back into town while Sharon stayed with all the children. I stayed over night and left in the early afternoon the next day, when the roads were clear. Our car is presently in the shop to get the lights and battery repaired. Dave has started researching used station wagons, since this is the second winter break down we've had this year. Sharon and I had a chance to discuss the all important issue of my upcoming haircut, her middle class aspirations, and my desire to make my 40's my "linen decade". I have now had enough intellectual stimulation and adventure to keep me sane for a few more weeks of winter. All in all, it was a satisfying outcome for all involved.

Signs that Spring is Almost Imanent

-- the temperature was above zero ferenheight

-- the wind was not trying to cut through to my bones, just to my sinews

-- I saw our squirrel running along the back fence

-- it is pre-dawn when we wake up around 7 and light by 8:30

The prarie dog in Medicine Hat saw its shadow, so there is supposed to be winter until mid-March. Which is pretty normal around here. But I would love it if we had spring by April . . . mid- April? . . . Okay, I will settle for any time before May.

Understatements

One thing (among many) that annoys me with most pregnancy / early childcare books is their tendency to understate things. Even if their information is factual, it grossly understates the pain and frustration of a given problem, and instead acts as if a statement such as "your baby's sleep schedule will likely organize itself in about 3 months" is comforting.

My favorites are the ones relating to late pregnancy and early post-partum that use words like "some discomfort". For example, "You may experience some discomfort in your lower back or pubic area nearing the end of pregnancy" or "You may have some discomfort while sitting for a few days after giving birth". I also love the ones about recovery from pregnancy and childbirth that contains he words "soon". My top one of these is in "What to Expect When You're Expecting", where the authour says something like "If you have followed our Best Odds Diet, your body should soon return to is pre-pregnancy shape". Ha. Ha. Ha.

I've discovered another one of these gross understatements this week. It usually sounds something like this: "Shortly after the introduction of a sibling, you may find your toddler experiencing some regression in toileting, eating or sleeping habits". Although this is a perfectly accurate statement of facts, it does nothing to express the sheer frustration that is created when your 2 1/2 year old suddenly stops using the potty, sleeping at night, or eating properly. Andrew has started peeing on the carpet, chewing and then spitting out his food once he is full, and waking every 2 or 3 hours to ask for mommy. Add to this the annoying age appropriate behaviors of completely ignoring everything I say and / or laughing gleefully as he defies what I have just asked him to do and a temperament that requires mommy within touching distance 24/7, and you get one frustrated mommy. Oh, and did I add that I'm taking care of a baby at the same time?

One day I'm going to write / compile a book that describes the emotional and experiential truth of early motherhood. I don't care if it scares people. Motherhood is frightening stuff.

Aaron's Birth Story

On January 15th I woke up at 5am. To be more specific, Andrew woke up at 5 am, and I woke up shortly therafter, to a little boy calling out "wake up, mommy?" like he does every morning. I had been fighting a cold all week and had finally managed to get a decent nights sleep, and was not happy, so I took Andrew to the potty, then brought him back to bed and told him it was not time to get up and I was not waking up at such a ridiculous hour.

Twenty minutes later, I was lying on the couch with Andrew, reading him "Richard Scarry's Best Counting Book Ever" and trying not to fall asleep, when I felt my first contraction. It caught me off guard, because it was my due date, after all. Who goes into labour on their due date? I kept reading, not too concerned. By the time I had got all the way to "100 fireflies", however, the contractions were starting to be pretty regular, I was having trouble concentrating and beginning to feel a bit chilly and shaky. I thought this was strange, but decided to get a drink of water, and let Dave know that I seemed to be in labour. It was around 6 am. He said "okay, thanks for keeping me updated" and rolled over and went back to sleep. After all, I was in labour for 9 hrs before my water broke and I needed to go to the hospital last time, so this was far from urgent.

Andrew and I read another book, then, since I was starting to feel quite ill, went and watched some Strong Bad cartoons on the computer. I started timing my contractions, because they seemed to be quite close together and intense. They were about 4 or 5 min. apart and 45 seconds long by 6:45. At 7 I woke Dave up and told him to start getting ready to go. So he had a shower and ate some breakfast, and watched videos with Andrew while I started gathering up the things Andrew and I would need for our adventures. The contractions were getting pretty strong now, and I had to stop and breathe through them.

At about 7:30 I went in to our tv/spare room and told Dave that he would have to finish packing things up. I sat down next to Andrew and he watched his video while I breathed through my very strong, regular contractions, and tried to interact calmly with him between then so he would know everything was all right. Andrew ate his apples and watched his video, seeming not to notice what was happening around him.

At 7:45 I told Dave he needed to pack up the car and call the S's to let them know we were coming over. I was now almost entirely in "the zone" -- I knew what was going on around me and was making sure things happened, but at the same time I was really detached and focused on relaxing through contractions. I get really intense and focused in situations like this.

At 8:15 or so we dropped Andrew off at the S's. They waved and wished me good luck, and I just kind of nodded at them.

At about 8:25 or 8:30 I got to the hospital. I thought it was kind of weird that as we drove up to the hospital my contractions started getting less intense. I went straight up to labour and delivery, letting Dave deal with signing me into the hospital. Shortly after this I was in the delivery room, and the nurse was sort of puttering around and getting things ready. She asked if she could check my cervix, just to see how far along I was. I agreed, and she seemed a bit baffled. She said "oh, I think you're about 6 cm, but I can't tell because your membranes are in the way".

Contractions were getting intense, so I asked if I could have some nitrous gas. The nurse offered me the mask, but it didn't really seem to be helping.

The doctor, who was at the hospital doing his morning rounds, came in and decided to check me. He said he might break my water to get things moving along. He checked my cervix and looked a bit surprised, and said, "Oh, you're fully dilated. I think we'll just let things be." He also noticed that the nitrous gas tank was empty -- they called maintenance to get a new tank, but it kind of came too late.

I thought I would try to go to the bathroom before I started really having to push, but instead my water broke on the toilet. I came back and tried to relax, but I really couldn't anymore. I told the nurse that I thought I had to push now. It was about 9 am.

I climbed up on the bed and the doctor came back and I got to work. It was amazing -- this time I could totally feel what was going on, I was so aware of my body and Aaron's passage through it. The doctor commented that I was "in complete control", which was cool. I knew exactly when to push and when to rest -- the doctor only had to tell me when to keep pushing because the head had crowned. 13 minutes later, at 9:13, Aaron was born.

I didn't get to see him immediately because the cord was wrapped around his neck and he was really blue and not crying or moving. About 10 min. later, though, after his nose and mouth were suctioned and he was revived, I had him laying on my chest, looking up at me. We were both a little bit startled -- it had happened so quickly.

After this, things were kind of surreal. I just kept looking at the clock and saying "I don't believe I just had this baby. That was so fast." The doctor filled in all the forms he would have usually done hours earlier while Aaron was having his first nurse, and Dave and I mulled over our list of names. You know it is Dave and I discussing names when you hear things like, "I don't know, enlightened one sounds too Buddhist" . . . "But I like the fact that Aaron spoke to Pharaoh on Moses' behalf when Moses was too afraid" . . . "I like Peter, but its a bit hokey to have Andrew and Peter" . . .

I was the talk of the hospital, which was pretty funny, because it wasn't as if I even had much to do with it -- I didn't plan my labour to be like that, that's just the way it was. My doctor said he would deliver all 10 of my children and that I was the perfect patient because he wouldn't have to miss any appointments that morning. Dr S. (not my doctor) thought it was funny that he could pop in to our room and congratulate us on Aaron's birth while he was on his morning rounds, two hours after we had dropped Andrew off at his house. The admitting nurse came and did my admitting screening questions ( are you allergic to any medications? have there been any complications during this pregnancy we should be aware of? was your last delivery vaginal or Cesarean?) three hours after Aaron was born, by which point most of the information was irrelevant.

I had a feeling it would be an easy, fast labour, but I had no idea it would be that fast. It was really intense, but I didn't feel overwhelmed or like I couldn't handle the pain. Overall, it was a really amazing experience, and I felt blessed to have been given such a complication free, remarkable birth experience. Not to mention such a beautiful and charming little boy.

You know you're getting older when . . .

I was in the doctor's office the other day, and there was a copy of "LouLou" magazine. Basically it is a magazine that doesn't even pretend to have articles -- it just shows you cool stuff you could buy in Canada. Most of the items are trendy clothes (and I must say that this year's trendy clothes scream "Help, I'm a fashion victim!"). Since I love clothes, I thought I would flip through it and see what was "in" right now. And on about page 10 (not including the numerous ads), there it was. The exact leather jacket that my friend Maya used to wear with her skinny black jeans in grade 11. Black leather, cropped, and many-zippered. I know, becuase I took a picture of her in it for one of our many "we're just going down town so we can take photos of the (fill in the blank ) Dr. Giardetti. We promise we'll be back by the end of the period" treks in photography class.

A few pages later, there were the long sweaters they are calling "sweater dresses" these days. I used to have one, with not quite as big of a cowl neck as is now in style. I beleive I wore it with cut off jean shorts and black leggings, most days, and big socks and converse sneakers. A bit further on I saw plaid vans -- mine were red instead of tan.

The really funny thing, though, is that we weren't the cool kids at our school. We sort of wore whatever we wanted to, not what was actually in style in Thunder Bay. I think Julia and Maya and I were the only people in our whole school who wore leggings. But still, when your clothes from highschool start coming around again, you know you're getting old.

Tidbits from the midst of sleep deprivation

I love Oregon chai. You can buy the just-add-milk-and-heat paks of it at Extra Foods. But apparently no one wanted to buy the Chrsitmas blend, because I bought the 1L paks of it for 1.50 each on clearance. I opened the cupboard and a word highlighted in red on the pak caught my eye: CONCENTRATE. My first thought, as a scanned the container, was, "on what?".

On another note, Andrew and Aaron could not be more different children. At first I was surprised by this, but then I realized that Andrew and Aaron could probably not have two more different parents than Dave and I.

We had to drive into Saskatoon yesterday, and I experienced one of those prarie phenomenons while driving home. We were driving north west, and as we drove part of the way out of Saskatoon, the sun started to set and twilight fell. Then about half an hour later, it got lighter, and ten or fifteen minutes, the sun started to set and twilight fell. I realized that the praries are so lacking in vertical geography that it is actually possible to chase the light.

Meet Aaron

Not quite sure what to make of the world at about 30 min. old

Our new family.

Wide awake at 5 days old.

Finally getting around to aanouncing the birth of . . .

Aaron Luke Chapman
Time: 9:13 am, Jan. 15, 2007
Weight: 8lbs 13 oz
Length: 22 in.

This is the message i emailed atound on Wed afternoon:
Hello everyone! Just thought we'd let you know that Aaron arrived safely and quickly on Mon. morning. We just got home about an hour ago, and all is well. I am recovering well, and Aaron is a strong, healthy nurser. My dr said I was "an ideal patient" and that he would deliver all 10 of my children. Andrew and Dave have been hanging in at home. Dave is a proud dad again, and Andrew is still a bit uncertain what to make of this new little stranger in his mom's arms, but he seems to be adjusting well so far. Our church family has been very supportive, and have already set up a meal tree for us until next Friday.
Aaron Luke means "enlightened one, bringer of light". Our prayer for him is that he will be filled with the light of Christ, and enabled to carry it into the darkness of our world as he grows to manhood.

It is now Sat. afternoon, and i am typing with a sleepy newborn in one arm and a "i'm not tired, mommy" two year old being rocked by my foot in a stroller while he eats teddy grahams to try to keep himself awake. aaron is stil a pretty mellow guy -- i keep waiting for the other shoe to drop -- and has miraculously been sleeping in 2 and 3 hr chunks. some of them are even at times when i can sleep too. andrew is still uncertain about the whole sibling thing, but also quite protective of his new brother. i am exhusted trying to keep up with them both and occasionally get some dishes or laundry done and deal with all the physical discomforts of early post partum (does anyone have an extra baby i can borrow for a few days until my milk supply evens out?). all i can say so far is that i'm glad i had andrew first. i could not imagine having such a fussy newborn plus a toddler to deal with. dave is still helping out where he can. i hope he can manage to work out something to say tomorrow morning too. . .

when i emerge from my stacks of dishes and piles of laundry (if only big baskets of laundry were not so fun to dump out everywhere . . ) i will post pictures and a birth story. thanks for all the well wishes.

Update on the storm

Well, with typical plucky Saskatchewan fervor, pretty much everyone is dug out already. Our neighbours had just happened to bring home their ATV from their cabin a few weeks ago, so they cleared out our driveway for us (including starting and pushing out our car and cleaning around it). I haven't been out to check, but I assume the main streets have been plowed by now, and there are enough ruts on more minor streets to make the roads passable. So, aside from there being a lot of snow everywhere and it being really really cold, the blizzard crisis is over already.

Its so funny because it is so different that B.C. Here everyone is used to snow, but there if there is a blizzard it is a major disaster and hazardous to drive until the snow melts or a week or so has gone past. I remember being out there the year that there was about a foot of snow right after Christmas, and the roads were closed, the airport shut down, schools and businesses were closed, cars were driven off the road all up and down the highway . . . Dave and I couldn't stop laughing. But then we realized that there were no snow plows, no snow tires, no one had snow shovels or proper clothes to wear, and the cities had no idea how to clear the roads, so they were slick and dangerous for a few days. And no one knew how to stop on ice, so people would swerve all over the place and just hit you because they couldn't stop. It was qute crazy.

In Saskatchewan, however, unless there's snow past your armpits, a blizzard is really just an excuse for everyone to play with their 4X4's, ATVs, snowmobiles and snowblowers and justify that new pair of Sorells they bought this fall.

All that to say that we are now good to go again should I go into labour. I just need to get rid of what has now turned into a nasty sinus infection and we will be good to go. Well, or we might be going before I get rid of it, but here's hoping and praying my antibiotics and the snatches of sleep I can manage to grab are enough to kill it in the next few days. I really would not like my new baby to be startled awake all night and day by his/her mother's horrible hacking cough.

"This my friend is JUMBO/large!"

as Strongbad would put it (see "road trip" under SB emails).

39 weeks and not counting anymore. Just wondering every day if this is going to be THE day or not. I must say that so far baby has had the courtesy not to come during the middle of my terrible cold or a terrible blizzard. So far, so good. Although I would like to be able to get up off the floor by myself again sometime soon, so once the blizzard is over, baby, feel free to enter the world. Any time now. Or now. Like now. How about now?

Really Weird Day

Those of you who are in Canada have probably already heard that there was a major blizzard in Saskatchewan today, especially if you are a fan of that all time Canadian winter occupation -- watching the weather channel. "Look at that, dear! There's snow right across the praries today! All the highways on the lower two thirds of the province are red! Oh, good, here comes the ski report. I always like to see how much snow there is at Whistler."

Anyway, around 2 pm this afternoon, if you were to look out our front window, you would have seen this:

Yes, it was a complete white out. Dave decided he had to check the mail (like the mail could have got in to our town) and return some videos, so he put on his Sorells and his ice fishing pants and his MEC parka and braved the snow and blowing wind to ensure he was not charged 5.00 in late fees. He told me our car was covered past the bumper already at 4:30, and it has been snowing for at least another 5 hours.

Needless to say, we didn't go anywhere today. And we made a list of our friends who have 4 wheel drive, just in case I go into labour tonight or tomorrow.

The other weird thing happened today when I happened to take a closer look at our Christmas tree. Our cut Christmas tree, that Dave and Andrew cut down in the bush. It has put out a whole new set of branches. At the end of about 15 branches on our tree there are these little 3" or so new shoots. I am wondering if that is what started this whole cold / sinus thing in the first place -- nothing like growing a spruce tree in your living room.

Despite my natural curiosity, which leaves me inclined to just keep watering the tree and see if it puts down roots in our tree stand, I think the tree has to go tomorrow. Although my sinus infection is almost gone, thanks to some mild antibiotics, I am still coughing all day and night. Now the only question is if we will be able to get it out the door by tomorrow morning . . .

This is getting ridiculous (not a post for the faint of heart)

As you all know, I am very pregnant now. Like, 38 and a bit weeks pregnant. And this baby's head is wedged between my hip bones. And I have one of my killer allergy/asthma colds. Those of you who have known me for a long time know the colds I'm talking about. Those ones where I go around blissfully barking like a dog for weeks on end and using up all the paper products within a two block radius of my house. Also, sometime during these colds I generally have an asthma attack and end up in the emergency. But the problem this time is that the baby's feet are pushing into my diaphram and his/her head is right down in launch position in my pelvis. So every time I cough, my darling child's head bumps into my cervix. Ouch.

Before I had children, I used to treat these colds by buying a bottle of NyQuill, which would put me in a state of blissful, cough-free oblivion, and sleeping for 2 or 3 days straight.Then I would re-emerge my usualy, generally cheerful self. But now, I have pregnancy hormones, heartburn and my cough (which I can't take anything for but lemon and honey) to keep me up at night, and my darling son to keep me up all day.

I just hope this cold/allergy subsides before I go into labour. I am just imagining what fun it would be to have an asthma attack in the middle of giving birth.

Happy New Year!

Well, I had about half a dozen amusing Christmasy posts that I was planning to write about Terry Prattchet's "The Hogfather", our Christmas tree that it four feet high and raised four feet off the ground, and our Afrikanns Christmas Eve, but unfortunately I have been either exhausted or frantically nesting or quilting (see post below) in the last few weeks, so none of them got written. Sorry. Thanks for continuing to check my blog, oh loyal audience.

Anyway, now it is 2007. We did not have a New Years Baby. We celebrated by, um, sleeping? You see, the funny thing about being a minster is that everyone wants you around for their Christmas party / dinner, but no one ever invites you to their house for their New Years' Eve Party. I can't think of why. Since the week was pretty intense for Dave, he went to sleep early.
I have been averaging about 4 hrs of sleep a night this week, between my late night pregnancy insomnia and my son's penchant to start the day at 5:30 am. So last night, when he refused to nap and then crashed at 7:30, I went to sleep with him. I woke up about 5 times, and slept for an hour on the couch in the middle of the night when my heartburn got really bad (but then my feet started swelling, so I went back to bed . .. ), but my body has learned that you take what you can get.

Well, readers, let us tip a metaphorical glass to the New Year! May it be full of joy and may you grow closer to God and those you love in the year to come. Cheers!

Fish Quilt -- Finally!

This is the baby quilt I made for baby Morwyn (born Dec. 22 or so) Kelso, my very good friend Lisa's baby. Lisa and I have been friends for 19 years this June, and I have been friends with her husband Iain for about 15 years. I introduced them, and convinced a very shy Iain that he should ask an equally shy Lisa out on a date many, many years ago. Iain is a geologist, and in his spare time composes film scores, when he can find a contract. Lisa is a forest fire radio operator, and in her spare time used to grow coral and take care of a salt water fish tank. Thus the inspiration for this quilt.

I bought this fabric before Morwyn was conceived, because it was a bit of a frustrating process, and I bought it as sort of a bid of confidence. Strange, I know, but it worked. So, first I bought the green fabric, which actually has shells and seahorses on in and the ocean scene fabric that comprises the middle strip, and the swirly water print. I didn't really know what I was going to do with it, so I just bought a metre of each. Then I found the pattern for a much larger version of this quilt, with 4 longer rows of interlocking fish. I took that idea and used the pattern for the fish blocks and this is the end result.



I'm quite proud of this quilt because a) it looks really amazing and b) it was damn hard to piece together.

The two fish and two tail pieces consist of 9 seperate triangles which had to be sewn on a perfect diagonal, then ironed on a perfect diagonal, on the fabric's bias, to create each fish block. It took me about a month to put them together. The rest of the piecing was pretty easy, since its all just strips of fabric, but I discovered about half way through that the dark green fabric is actually really directional, and so had to be cut and pieced really carefully as well so the quilt would work.

Also, I hand quilted all the yellow and orange fish and then added eyes so that they would stand out a bit better. This took me about 6 or 8 hours all together, although I did it over the course of a week or two. The rest of the quilting was really quick in-the-ditch machine quilting. I didn't even quilt any wavy patterns into the borders or the middle band -- I figured they were small enough that it wouldn't kill the quilt not to, and I still have to make a quilt for my new niece and, oh yeah, my own baby who is due any day now.

I was more careful with this one and pre-washed the fabrics, used cotton thread and used a minimum 1/4 inch seam allowance. This photo was taken after it was washed, and it did not tear apart like my last quilt. So I was releived. It is not tucked away in a plastic bag, so my cat doesn't sit on it (she loves new quilts) before I send it away -- Iain is really quite allergic to cats.

What I will miss . . .

about only having one child. It has been nice to be able to give Andrew my undivided attention for two years. Not always easy, since he does frequently demand, well, my undivided attention. But I imagine that there will be few moments as peaceful as this in the next few months. I've been in mourning, a bit, for the special relationship I've shared with my son, and how it will be changing any day now. I am excited about adding a new baby to our family, obviously, and I think it will be great for Andrew to have more people around -- I've always said he would be happier with a sibling and I still think that it true. But I will miss all the cuddling and talking and sleeping and other one-on-one time we've had together. My second child will never receive my undivided attention like Andrew did, and I'm a bit sad about that, too. But then, he or she will never know any different, so I think its just a mom thing to worry so much.



Incidentally, it was three days after the above shot that we finally got and set up Andrew's "big boy bed". He is within arms' reach of me, but he reaches for me less and less each night. In the last few days he has not even fallen asleep cuddling next to me, but rather rolled over onto his own pillow, on his own bed.

34 weeks.

People keep commenting on how huge I am. They keep telling me that I must be going to have this baby any day. But seriously, I remember being at least this big last time around at this stage. I was much bigger by 41 weeks, when he decided to finally make an appearance.

Anyway, as you can see, baby is growing well. The doctor is pleased and says the baby seems to be excellent and that the heartbeat sounds "blue" to him. I just wish it would sound "early" to him. I am starting to feel ridiculous, and my due date is still a month away.

The month of November was so cold around here that even being completely stuffed with polyester and covered in fur was not enough to keep warm. We had the most snow on record since 1943, and the average temperature must have been somewhere around - 15 or -20. It was a crazy month. Being from much warmer climes, Foundy the monkey was not thrilled with the weather.

Hungry Catterpillars, Toddler Bowling and Holey Socks

One of Andrew's latest favorite games is something I like to call toddler bowling. He especially likes to play this at playgroup, where there are five or six kids right around the one year to fifteen months mark. They are smaller than him, and still a little bit wobbly. He likes to go up to them, size them up, and bowl them over. Just one push in the middle of the chest, he has discovered, will do to cause a GIANT reaction. Not only does he get to watch them fall over, but then there are the tears and the mommies and all the excitement that ensues. I have tried to talk to him about this. We have got across the idea that one should say sorry after pushing a kid over. So he will go up to a kid, push them over and then say, matter of factly, "Sorry, Macklin." and walk away. We were on our way to our toddler Christmas party the other day, and I was trying to remind him NOT to push kids. So I said, "What do we need to remember when we are at the party, Andrew?" and he said "Sorry."

Andrew also has quite the imagination. As I have mentioned before, this means he is constantly a puppy, mouse, rabbit, Bob the builder, fireman, etc, etc. I am, of course, expected to keep track and greet the creature of the moment, or risk being corrected. This overactive imagination also means, I have discovered, that I must be very careful what I read to him.

My moms' breakfast group has started meeting in homes instead of at the co-op, because almost all the kids are now running around, and its just easier that way. Well, in Saskatchewan, it is the very poor hostess who does not provide at least 3 choices of breakfast. This is, after all, plate of dainties country. So, the first woman to host us had been to a bake sale and had cookies, cupcakes, cut up melon, bagels, muffins and an assorted fruit bowl, plus coffee and juice. Let me tell you, they're going to be very disappointed when its my turn -- I'm making my whole wheat carrot muffins and putting out some oranges.

Andrew is a good six to eight months older than the other kids, so they were all too young and short to notice the food on the table. My boy, however, instantly noticed the food. And pulled up a chair to the table and sat on it. And proceeded to eat: one cupcake and the icing off a second, one cookie, half a bagel, a mandarin orange, about a third of the honeydew melon and a glass of chocolate milk. When I asked him if he was hungry, he said "Oh, I'm a very hungry caterpillar, mommy."

In "The Very Hungry Catterpillar", the caterpillar eats: 1 apple, 2 pears, 3 plums, 4 strawberrries, 5 oranges, one piece of chocolate cake, one sausage, one slice of swiss cheese, one slice of salami, a CUPCAKE, one lolipop, one piece of cherry pie and one slice of waterMELON. I suppose my son felt the need to eat in a similar fashion.

The other big drama around here lately is socks. My son is obsessed with the wellbeing of his feet. His nails must be properly trimmed, or he will come to me and say "cut my toenails, mommy?". His socks must fit properly, with the heels covering his heels and contain no holes. If they have holes, he can not walk in them. He literally will sit or stand where the sock has been placed on his foot and cry and panic until the sock is removed from his foot. The other day a hole appeared in one of his socks while he was walking. He was about 4 steps away from me. Being very pregnant, I kept saying "Come over here and I will take off the sock". But this was impossible. He stood, completely immobile, in the middle of the hallway sobbing "Take it off! Take my sock off mommy!" until I managed to scooch my way across the floor and remove the offending sock.

Needless to say, life is a daily adventure around the Chapman residence these days. You just never know what will happen next.

Christmas Lists

Just wanted to say that this is a really funny Strongbad email. Especially since I'm the classic "home made gifts girl". And to think I had already bought enough clothespegs to do a whole set of ornaments for all my family and friends . . .

http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail163.html

Andrew's First Kids Christmas Party

Andrew and I went to our first kids Christmas party today.

We have met this group of women who met when they were all on Maternity leave from their teaching jobs. They started a weekly breakfast and a weekly swimming time to hang out together and get out of the house for the year. Gradually, a few other women (myself included) ended up being invited to and tagging along with this group. Well, today one of them held a Christmas party for all her son's "friends". I felt like I was entering a whole new world.

To begin with, we were an hour late. I had decided to make jiozas (see post above) before hand, and by the time I was done that at 9:30, Andrew had torn the kitchen and living room apart, so we had to tidy up his mess and the floury countertop and get dressed before we could leave. We left the house at around 10:30. The party, incidentally, started at 10:30.

As we were driving out to the main road, I realized two things: a) we needed gas and b) I didn't have my wallet. So we went back to the house. Then we went to get gas. By the time we had finished all that it was 10:50.

At this point, I need to explain something about Saskatchewan. All the land in the entire province, except for Reserve land, was at one point parcelled out to individual farmers by quarter sections. The entire southern half of the province is more or less covered in gravel grid roads, all of which used to have their own little towns and communities every 15 miles or so. Most of those communities are ghost towns, and many of those who are still farming now farm several full sections rather than just a quarter section. The grid roads, however, are still there. But for whatever reason, no one has ever bothered to give most of them NAMES or NUMBERS of any kind. So directions to anyone's farm tend to be along the line of "you go 5 miles and then turn west at the road after the Bowmar Seeds sign, then you go 2 miles and turn north . . . ".

I should also explain something about myself. I get lost a lot. I have a very poor sense of direction, especially when thinking in terms of north and east. I also tend to confidently set out to places, assured that I know exactly how to get there, only to discover that I am going the wrong way. The only way I ever get anywhere is to break out the map and carefully chart my course, then keep the map within arms reach and refer to it after every turn to make sure I haven't got turned around.

Let us suffice to say, for the sake of brevity, that it took me another 40 min. to get there, and I explored several grid roads around the house where the party was taking place. By the time we got there, all other 11 or 12 children and their parents were already at the party, and all the good toys were gone. I still had to boil water and cook the jioza before lunch, which was in about 30 min. So I quickly greeted everyone, trying my best to get into the kitchen to get the silly things cooked (I should have just baked muffins instead of trying to show off). I got Andrew suitably distracted, asked one of the other parents to keep an eye on him, and darted into the kitchen.

The gyoza got cooked, but in the meantime, Andrew was brought to me, sobbing. His fingers had been run over by an enthusiastic child on a tricycle. That was the end of Andrew's independent play for the day. So he sat on the counter top and drank juice while I boiled water and chatted with whoever was in the kitchen and tried to stay out of the way (this is easier said than done when you are 8 months pregnant) while the other food was put on the table and served. By the time the jioza were ready, about half the people had already got their food, and only about 4 or 5 people even tried the jioza -- I should have known better than to bring exotic food to a pot luck in Saskatchewan. I should have made jelly salad.

So then Andrew and I sat down to lunch on the floor, as did all the other parents and kids. Most of the parents are those responsible middle class kind of parents who thought to bring a chair to sit their child in, and so their children actually ate food. My son was sitting on the ground, and he ate two pear slices before he ran off to play with all the now abandoned toys. It was about here that I realized that I was the only woman who had not brought her husband with her to the party. Oops.

I ate, and Andrew was mesmerized with a plastic push-truck that made sounds and had exciting battery operated moving bits, so lunch was fine. It was nice to visit with some of the women that I hadn't seen since they went back to work, and all was well.

Then, we gathered all the children to sing songs at one end of the room. The mom who was hosting the party is a school librarian, so she is very organized. The words to the songs were all typed up on her laptop and projected on the wall. There was a keyboard there to accompany us. All the other little children danced, and did the actions, and rang their little jingle bell arm bands more or less in time with the music. My son sat and watched. Every time I tried to get him to jingle his bells, or do an action, or participate in any way he would say, matter-of-factly, "No." At least I won't have to worry much about peer pressure effecting him when he's older. While the children sang and danced, the parents that were not holding them started running around with cameras, taking pictures of them being good social animals at their first Christmas party. It was then that I realized that I had forgotten my camera. Oops.

After this, Santa showed up with the sack of presents we had all donated to the cause. Once Andrew realized that all he had to do was go up to this guy to get a present he happily went up (holding my hand, of course) and took a present out of Santa's sack. I knew him well enough not to ask if he wanted to sit on Santa's knee. We got a book and a little snake flashlight. He liked the book, and whenever I show him the snake flashlight (which opens its mouth and hisses when you push the flashlight button) he says "I don't want it." I coveted the parents whose children got foam floor puzzles and blocks.

Then the official part of the party was over, and the hostess turned on the Chipmunks Chrsitmas video. All the other kids, who mostly have the tv on all the time at home paid no attention and went about their business. Andrew was glued to the tv for the entire show, which gave me the opportunity to get packed up and ready to go. I visited for a bit, and then we left.

It was a fun party, but I felt, as usual, like I had not quite got it "right". Oh well. Someone has to be the odd duck, and I'm generally a good candidate; apparently my son intends to continue this tradition into the next generation. At least he'll always have an understanding parent to talk to about it.

Reality is Sinking In . . .

I am now 34 1/2 weeks pregnant. That is the point where you are way past being cutely pregnant or even happily pregnant. It is the point where you are counting down to the time when you can sort of have your body back and breathe and walk properly again. It is also the time when you have to start actually getting things done because the end is in sight, and you want to be prepared.

I experienced my first "its getting too small in here, mom" stretch yesterday. Formerly full body stretches were kind of tickly and funny, because there are bits of fingers and toes and poking out of you at funny angles (you can't see it, really , but you can feel it). But this was the first one where one limb hit a hip bone and the other hit my rib cage and they kept pushing for more space.

I washed all my newborn diapers today and all my light coloured baby clothes. It was the strangest sensation to pull these little tiny outfits out of the box and then pull out the Ivory snow for something other than my son's diapers, and see that two huge arm loads of tiny clothes only made one load of laundry. I realized that I am going to have another child.

Not that this hadn't occured to me before now. I mean, I've been pregnant for 8 months now. I have had moments of excitement, joy and sheer terror at the thought of having a newborn around again. But it hadn't really been real . . . it was something that was coming in the future. But that future is quickly approaching. And tonight, I am wondering, "What was I thinking? Am I really ready to have a second child? Can I do this? Is it too late to turn around and go back?"

Christopher Robin? Where are you?

This morning as I dozed quietly on the futon and listened once more to the narrator's opening lines of "The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh", I had a thought. The narrator says something to the effect of "Now, Christopher Robin lived in the middle of the 100 Acre Woods where he could see his friends and help them with all their troubles". It cuts to a shot of Christpher Robin hammering Eyore's tail back on under the supervision of Owl and Kanga. A few moments later, Christopher Robin helps Pooh in his attempts to get honey. Then when Pooh gets stuck in Rabbit's hole after eating too much honey, Christopher Robin comes to help pull him out. Christopher Robin helps rescue Piglet, he throws Pooh a hero party, and generally, thoughrough the movie, does all the things a responsible care giver would do for a small child that is growing in independence and responsiblility, but still gets in trouble now and then.

I realized that in the later, and far less classic, Pooh movie "Pooh's Grand (Great?) Adventure", Christopher Robin is not there to help Pooh. In fact, at the beginning of them movie he says "I am going away. You must do things for yourself now, but remember: You're smarter than you think you are, stronger than you imagine . . . " etc, etc. Basically he layers on the self - esteem, positive thinking stuff that will help Pooh and the gang get through their problems by themselves. This second movie is very dark, so dark that my son was afraid of it, and didn't want to watch it a second time. Essentially, Pooh and his friends beleive something dreadful has happened to Christopher Robin and they go looking for him. They travel through a bleak and barren rocky landscape, have many not so merry perils. They finally discover that Christopher Robin is at school, and their fear was all in their minds. But they were up to the challenge and helped themselves because they were smarter than they thought they were, etc, etc.

The thought that swirled through my pre-caffinated, pregnant brain was this: I think its okay that Christopher Robin rescues the animals in the Hundred Acre Woods. I think there is something really good about the fact that the animals have someone to turn to when they get out of their depth, and that there is always the reassurance that if they mess up, Christopher Robin will be there to help them. Small children should live in a world where they have a deus-ex-machina to remedy situations too complex for their small bodies and minds. It is a good thing and it helps them feel secure to know there are bigger people in the world who can help them when they are overwhelmed.

I find the whole premise of this second movie where the animals must rescue Christopher Robin really disturbing. For a small child (Pooh usually wears off around 8 at the latest, doesn't he?) the message this sends is that you may be alone, but you are strong enough to deal with it. You can handle your problems on your own, and they are overblown in any case. I suppose the idea behind the movie is to build a child's sense of independence and self-esteem. But doesn't our self-esteem grow first out of a healthy dependence on a reliable adult?

It is through our early experiences of trust and nurture that we learn that we are someone worthy of respect and trust. We gradually learn that although some things in the world are scary and dangerous, we can face them and conquer them because we are supported by a loving community that allows us to face hard things and take risks we might otherwise fear. As we develop in this supportive environment, we are then enabled to seek out our own community, first of friends and then of family, that will fulfill our needs for mutual encouragement, support and respect. Ideally, our community does not one day cut the apron strings and leave us alone and afraid to fulfill this mysterious task of "growing up" alone. Rather we ourselves are given leave to gradually seperate ourselves from the family support and find our independence.

Perhaps the second movie is a reflection on modern North American parenting styles. How many parents these days are so busy living their own lives to the fullest that they forget about the small, vulnerable people who rely on them? In how many families, especially in the '80s when this second movie was made, are children left to sort through the ravages of divorce and family break up, and sometimes to even help and comfort their parents? How many people bear children without really considering that they must give up a great deal of their own time and interests to properly raise and support a child, and then refuse to make the sacrifices necessary to invest in their child's life? How many children in our culture are left asking, "Christopher Robin? Where are you?"

No wonder I already had a headache by 9 this morning. I'll try to make my next post happier. Honest.

Isn't Technology Supposed to Make Your Life EASIER?

I have a bunch of little photo posts to put up, but my memory card is so full (and there's only one digital photo kiosk in town) that my camera can't even seem to find the new pictures on it in order to transfer them. Or something. Anyway, we are experiencing technical difficulties. Please stay tuned.