Thoughts on Luxury . . .

I was at Nutter's the other day (a health food / bulk goods store) and I saw that they had some fair trade organic tea in pretty, recyclable tins. For $7.50 I could buy 22 tea bags in a reusable or recyclable tin and give the workers who grew and harvested the tea in India and Shri Lanka a fair working wage. At the grocery store I could get about 100 Tetley tea bags for the same price. I bought the fair trade tea, and it is delicious.

I found, however, that I suddenly felt the need to use my tea pot and brew the tea rather than dunking a tea bag in a mug and a sugar cube and sloshing water over it. After all, I had paid a higher price for this tea, so I decided I should make it properly and fully enjoy it. If I let my pot of tea go cold during the day, I felt the need to reheat the tea and drink it rather than just dumping it out and making a new pot.

I began to wonder why this was. Certainly, the tea was a bit more expensive, but it was far cheaper than 22 cups of Starbucks coffee. Then I realized that I was treating this tea like a luxury product rather than something I was entitled to, simply because it was beautifully packaged and thoughtfully produced.

This set my mind turning about the entire way we think and act in modern North American culture. We assume that we are entitled to a lot of things. Strawberries in February. Coffee and tea all year round. Chocolate bars whenever we want them for under a dollar. Meat at dinner time. A nicely decorated house. Flattering clothes in the latest styles. A good haircut (well, that might just be me). The list goes on and on and includes stuff, stuff and more stuff. And it had all better be reasonably priced so that we can have all our "needs" met within our budget.

My head began to spin as I considered the world wide implications of our consumer culture; the factories in China belching out smoke and pollution, the forests of the world being decimated to grow coffee, tea, and cattle, the poorly paid workers in India spending their days cranking out cheap t-shirts and cargo pants in the latest colour and length, the refrigerator trucks barrelling full tilt across the Americas carrying mangoes from Mexico to Northern Saskatchewan, the landfills stuffed with cheap plastic toys and polyester clothes that will still be there when my great great grandchildren are born.

And I began to wonder if part of the problem isn't that everything is manufactured so cheaply that it is difficult to treat it as a luxury. If I can buy a cheap t-shirt that fits for 9.99, why pay the luxury price of 30.00 to get a well tailored t-shirt made from organic cotton that will last for years? I can buy three 9.99 t-shirts for that next year. Why buy and savour one bar of belgian chocloate over a few weeks when I can pick up a Kit Kat bar at the corner store every day? Why buy one pair of well made, comfortable shoes that will last me for years when I can pick up five pairs of cool shoes for the same price and throw them out next year?

But if we were paying a fair price for a product, a price that took into consideration the value of the workers who made it and the true cost to the skies and soil of the materials in the product itself, we might treat it more carefully. We might savour and enjoy our food and treat our possesions with pride and care. If we did this, we would need to buy less because the enjoyment would not come from purchasing and having items, but from appreciating the things we consumed. And because the food would be healthy and well prepared, it would fill us up sooner. Because our clothes and furniture and houses would be well built, they would last longer. Over time, we would not have as much stuff, but the stuff we owned would be worth having. These simple things would then become luxuries.

Think of the overall, world wide impact that could be created if this mindset could become common place. Perhaps we could actually find a way of living that was sustainable for the planet and just for the people of the earth. We could learn to honour the labour of our neighbours across the world and appreciate the foods that can grown in our back yards. We could brew a pot of tea, and sit and drink it with a sense of appreciation for all that went into the making of the tea, becuase we paid a fair price for a good product.

Some days its amazing what can happen when you just open a tin of tea . . .

If Roberto Had Known . . .

that thousands of small children would be idolizing him and pretending to be him, would he have still been okay with the Mighty Machines film crew taping him tearing down a brick building with his sheer tractor? The obsession with "The Demolition Site" continues. We take it out of the library every third week (the other week some other obsessed child must have it because its often not there), and now when we watch it, Andrew says "I was watching myself in that movie, mommy. I was tearing down the building."

Here is the sheer (shear?) tractor Andrew was driving in our back yard the other day. Note the levers and construction boots.

For Anna

One of Andrew's current favorite things to do in the bathroom is spit on the mirror, so its a bit blurry, but here is the haircut. This picture kind of freaks me out, though, because I look SO much like my sister Kim in it. I think its just my expression. Anyway, its not terrible, its kind of cute, but well, is cute really what I want out of my hair? I have spent so many years being cute, can't I be something else now?

In other news, Aaron suddenly began sitting really well on his own. It was really hot today, that's why he's just in a prefold with no cover. He was thrilled to be able to play cars with the boys today.

Happy Canada Day!

We had a glorious, hot Canada day around here, and since there was an eccumenical service in the park and Dave didn't have to preach it was pretty laid back. We went to the service, ate our snacks and some burgers we bought from the Boy Scouts, and watched Andrew play in the bleachers while we hung out in the shade with friends. Then there was a performance by Saskatchewan Express, I think, a troupe of young performers. They were really good, and Andrew was fascinated. He was sitting in Okert's little fold up lawn chair, with his sippy cup tucked in the side pocket, abseloutely rapt for about half and hour. It was hilarious. Aaron was happy to have so much Daddy time (he's becoming quite the daddy's boy -- he cries when Dave leaves for work, or if he sees Dave and daddy doens't pick him up or say hi) and I was happy to have free arms for a while and a chance to wear my new tiered skirt I bought last summer (which finally looks kind of okay on me). So all in all it was a great day. Andrew fell asleep in the car on the way home and miraculously, woke up HAPPY from a nap, then went to the park with Dad, and I got to play some baby games with Aaron without having another boy plunked on my lap insisting that I should read books. It was very relaxing.

Happy birthday, Canada!

Now I've Done It!

I went and got my hair cut again. I loved my other hairstyle -- it was very cool and funky. But terribly impractical. My hair was EVERYWHERE -- in the vaccum, on our clothes, down the drains, in the way every time that I went to put on the baby sling, impossible to put up or leave down . . . so it had to be cut.

But the problem is that I only specified a length, not a style when I went to see the hairdresser. I thought that since she'd given me such a cool hairstyle last time, she would have some brilliant insight again this time. Unfortuantely she was running behind and since I didn't really know what I want she just gave me the default hairstyle.

You all know what the default hairstyle is. It is the style that any hairstylist in the known multiverse would cut your hair into if not given instrucitons to do otherwise. For me, the default hairstyle is a bob. So now I have a slightly above-shoulder length bob. It has a few layers in the bottom, but that's it. It looks pretty good and is easy to take care of. But its the default haircut. The one I've always been given since I was 4 and had enough hair to bob. Sigh.

So now I've done it. I'm going to have to either grow my hair out or keep getting it cut. And we both know which one of those options is more fun. Stay tuned to the continuing saga of Jill's hair.

The Bitter with the Sweet

Last weekend I took my kids on a youth group camping trip. The teenagers had a great time, thanks to the two other competent adults I asked to come and help me. They both love camping and know all the tricks and have all the tools to have a really great camping trip.

Then there was me. I did pretty well. I set up the tent. I had the mosquito repellant and the sunscreen and the warm, long sleeved clothes and everything we needed. I did not, however, have the plug to my air matress, which made for miserable sleeping conditions.

As some of you know, Andrew is not a prize winning sleeper. Getting him to sleep has always been a chore, and he did not accomplish the feat of staying asleep all the way through the night until he was almost two. We still have our sleepless nights, and the two nights on the campout were among them.

Since he is a very high needs child, we have had many frustrating days, as well. I wish sometimes that I could go to the bathroom without him, or do a load of laundry without hearing "Where are you, mommy?" from somewhere in the house. When I was at the retreat, I was wishing I could unpack food for the campout or go and get my flashlight or nurse the baby without having to wait for him to walk with me from the main campsite to the site where our tent was pitched. I was wishing he would stay with some of the other people while I trekked to the bathroom or went and spent time with the youth kids. Or even that I might have been able to drip him off with someone for the weekend, like many of my friends do, and go by myself.

This got me thinking about the comment older women with grown up children always make. "Enjoy these years. They go so fast." I always think, "How can I enjoy them? I spend the entire time cleaning bodily fluids off myself, my children and the carpet. I am losing the upper range of my hearing from all the shreiking I have heard in the last two years. Have maybe had 30 days when I have slept 8 hours straight in the last 3 years. I am constantly harried, distracted, screamed at, clinged to, spit up on, tired, sore and numb from answering a thousand questions every day. Motherhood sometimes feels long and bitter. I can see why many women never seem to recover themselves at the end of it.

But then we went to the beach in Waskesiu. After a trying time getting into the car to get there, a long tiring walk with one boy in the stroller and one baby in the backpack, and having to repeat the mantra "we will go to the beach AFTER mommy finishes her coffee, Andrew!" a thousand times, we actually had this beautiful moment on the beach. Some of the girls were amusing the baby, and Andrew and I took off our shoes and socks, rolled up our pants and waded in the water. We looked at the boats and the birds. We laughed at the cold water on our feet. We squelched our way up and down a good portion of the beach. We saw hordes of butterflies and dragon flies. It was a perfect moment. One that you want to breathe in and hold onto and never let go.


I realized that these moments are not hard to come by when you are parenting young chilren, if you stop and take them. I realized that this is the sweetness and joy I longed for when I chose to have children. And I realized that it is the bitter times, the angry, frustrating times that make these quiet, beautiful moments even more precious. I love happy little moments with Andrew because I can hold them close and remember them when I am way past the end of my rope. I can enjoy my time with my children when I let go of all the frustrations, give in to the reality that I will not be at my best for the next ten years or so, and take time to experience the simple wonders that surround me.

When I am in the bitter moments, I try to find a little morsel of sweetness to help them go down a bit easier. Instead of complaining about the frustrations of my day, I'm learning to ask myself what we can do to let go of the day's tensions and enjoy a little moment together. A few moments walking on the beach, digging in the sand, or eating pretend food out of a book together is usually all it takes. I just have to remember to stop and find the sweetness and savour it when it comes my way.

Warning . . Juggling Unicyclists Ahead.

What, precisely, is this sign supposed to communicate to me? That the circus is coming to town?

Just Wanted to Boast a little . .

and let you know that Aaron did his first longish unassisted sit yesterday. Yes, my super strong baby sat up on his own for a minute or two at 5 mos.

I have much more to post about but no time. For the first time in a month Andrew is having a nap and guess who just woke up from a 3 hr long nap? As usual, no rest for the mommy. Sigh.

What Was I Thinking?

I am taking 8 teenagers (possibly 9) on a camp out this weekend with two other adults and my 2 small children. Of course because we are going camping this week, Aaron is cutting his two bottom teeth and Andrew has decided that he is not going to eat anything but yogurt and fruit and ice cream and juice, and that he is not going to listen to me or do anything I ask him to do, and go around whining and complaining all day and pull apart and destroy everything in my house. This is also the week I have to have a nagging beginning of a head cold complete with headaches, sore throat and spaceyness. Which means I will get the full blown cold sometime while we are camping, which will exaserbate my asthma. And that i can't seem to think or get myself together enough to get anything done.

So I still have to do all the laundry I need for the trip, pack, grocery shop, and get our house in a reasonable state for Dave to stay home for the weekend and have something in the house to eat. By 3:30 tomorrow. Right now I don't even know how I am going to make it through the afternoon, never mind the entire weekend.

But, my history with this youth group has been that everything comes together at the last minute, my children behave well, and the kids are great and have fun anyway. So I should just relax and get the laundry done and get to bed early, and worry about everything else tomorrow.

The annoying thing is that I wasn't even anxious until everyone kept telling me how crazy I was. I'm tired of people saying "You're doing ______? I would never try that. You're so brave." When they say this, I start thinking "maybe I can't do this after all" and its all down hill from there. So I'm going to ignore all those people who think I'm crazy, slather my children in bug repellant and sunscreen, let the teenage boys light big fires and the girls lie on the beach and enjoy the great outdoors, secure in the knowledge that we will all survive and my children will be fine, if a big mosquito-eaten at the end of the trip, and the youth kids will more or less take care of themselves (or the other adults will take care of them) and all will be well.

Taking a Tiny Break from Quilts

I felt the need to take a break from quilts, so I made this bag. Also, I needed a larger bag now that I have two children's stuff to lug around, and since Andrew usually rides in the stroller while I carry Aaron, a backpack just wasn't working. So, this is my un-diaper bag.

Here is a close up of the fabulous fabric that is inside the pockets, lining and inner strap:

This will give you a good idea of the shape of the bag when empty:

This last photo is a close up of the very cute charm fabric I appliqued onto the front pocket, just for a dash of extra panache.

When I make another one of these (one of my friends has already hinted that she would really like one for a shower gift), I think I will put inside pockets into it, too. This one just has the small pocket at the front and a large medium sized book pocket on the back (7 x 11, I think).

The funny thing about this bag was that when I looked at the bag I made it off of, it seemed like a simple and elegant pattern that I couldn't possibly mess up. In reality, I took the sides off this bag twice (once becuase I messed up the sewing, and once because the strap was twisted) and had to cut the lining apart and re-stitch it because I should have sewn it into the bag earlier than I did. Oh well. Now I know for next time. And I'm very happy with the resulting bag. It is cute and slouchy and funky, but just the right size for a diaper bag. And if I ever go back to teaching or school, it will be big enough to carry all my stuff for that, too.

A Thread of Continutiy

Let's sit on the VERANDA font and chat about me for a moment. Who comes up with these font names, anyway?

While I was machine quilting my niece's quilt, I had a thought. I realized that I was really enjoying machine quilting, despite it being a slightly hellish process. For those of you not familliar with the quilting process, this is what happens. You take forever putting the tiny bits of fabric into bigger and bigger pieces until you have a whole quilt top. Then you put the middle part (batting) and the bottom fabic under it and safety pin it all together so it doesn't shift. Then you manouver this rather aukward, large bundle of fabric around as you sew through all three layers to quilt it together. When you are quilting one end of the quilt, the rest of the quilt is all sort of hanging everywhere, and bunching together, and you are trying to balance it by surrounding yourself with tables and chairs and rolling up various parts of the quilt to stuff it through the small space between the sewing machine arm and body . . . its quite ridiculously complicated. This is why most people either hand quilt their larger quilts or send them away to a professional with a special quilting sewing machine.

Anyway, I quite enjoy the whole process of quilting. I like finding patterns that I can follow to make it easier to quilt and do the longest amount of continuous sewing that i can. So for instance, with Kaylee's quilt I found that I could actually continously quilt 4 blocks without cutting the thread. This sort of small victory give me great pleasure. I started wondering why it was, exactly, that such an odd thing made me so content. And that is when I had my thought.

I realized that the think I like about quilting is the creation of patterns. In fact, I most naturally think in patterns. This is why my thoughts seem so random to everyone else. It is because my brain is organized not in straight lines but in pinwheels, checkerboards and spirals. I started making connections back through things in my life I have enjoyed that seemed unconnected. Until I put the pieces together (ha ha). Let's look at a few.

1. Quilting -- I already explained this one.

2. Curriculum planning -- I love it. I am one of the few teachers I know that actually enjoys looking through the curriculum and planning specific units. I like to see how many learning goals I can cover in one unit, and I love figuring out how I will gradually teach larger concepts through smaller, incremental activities. I love matching up learning goals, activities and resources.

3. Samuel Beckett -- This is also what I love about his writing. His works are all about repetition -- the making, repeating, and breaking of psychelogical patterns.

4. Personality Profiles -- I am fascinated by them. Categorizing people by their patterns of behaviour.

5. Poetry -- I was always really good with poets like bp nichol who play with word structure and form a lot. I am also annoying good at identifying and discussing poetic devices -- I love finding rhyme, alliteration, repetition, rhythm, etc, etc in a poem and seeing why the poets use the patterns they use.

6. Archetypes -- I love finding the repeating archetypal figures and stories that run through literature. I love finding trickster figures, hero's journeys, etc in literature. It fascinates me how most of the world's stories are based on the same patterns of plot, character and relationship.

7. Algebra -- I always did great on the parts of math that involved balancing equations. It seems sort of intuitive to me, while random formulas for calculating the circumference of a whatever never made sense to me.

8. Those Drawing I Used to Do In Highschool -- Okay, that one only makes sense if you knew me in highschool. But I used to make these sort of free-form twisted checkerboard and swirly line drawings all the time in highschool. I found them soothing and would spend hours making entire pages full of tiny, slightly skewed squares and swirls. They were incredibly soothing to me.

So, now you know an interesting, but completely useless piece of information about me. I like patterns. A lot. They make me happy.

So why can't I organize my household? I'm not sure, but it quite likely extends from some pattern of behavior.

I know you're out there . . .

Okay, so my sitemeter is telling me there's a lot of hits from Thunder Bay this week, so I've just go to ask: Who in Thunder Bay is lurking on my blog? Come on, I know you're out there. Fess up.

Typical.

Why do I always realize AFTER I invite a new friend in for coffee that my son has dismantled the shoe rack (thus dumping shoes and sand all over the entry way), spilt juice on the kitchen floor (making it sticky underfoot) and emptied all the couch cushions and toys into a pile in the middle of the living room floor? Oh, and my husband has left his motorcycle helmet, two types of cereal boxes, and a bowl on the kitchen table. And we have accumulated a stack of magazines and books on one end of the table. And I am out of dishwasher detergent (on the list of "things to do later today") so my sink has a stack of dirty dishes in it.

Filling in the Blanks

Andrew has decided that he needs to understand everything. Right. Now. And that the source of all his answers is the Encyclopedia Jilltanica. I spend my entire day answering questions. "What happened, mommy?"
"Well, Andrew, the man walked by and he said "hi" to us."
"What did you say?"
"I said hi back."
"What did he say?".
"Nothing, he just kept walking."
"What did you say?"
"I said hi."
"What did he say?"
"He didn't say anything."
"WHAT did HE say, mommy?"
"Nothing Andrew."
"What did you say?"
"No more questions, Andrew."
This goes on all day long. Every thing that happens must be analyzed and discussed in the minutest possible detail. And repeated endlessly until Andrew has discovered every morsel of wisdom, truth, and knowledge from it.

Aside from the old "What happened, Mommy?" (by far his favorite question), he is also fond of simply adding prepositions so that I will fill in more details.

"Where are we going, mommy?"
"We are going to the store."
"With . . . "
"Aaron."
"To buy . . . "
"We are going to the store with Aaron to buy some groceries."
"So that . . . "
"So that there is food in the house for us to eat, Andrew."
"In the . . . "
"In the car."
"With . . . "
"Mommy and Andrew and Aaron are going in our green car to buy groceries so that we can bring them home and eat them. That is the end of the sentence, Andrew."

I used to always think it was heartless of moms to say, with exasperation, "NO MORE QUESTIONS." But now I think there is a time when you just can not answer anymore questions. I think I need to come up with an error report phrase, like "Failure to boot". or "I can not perform that function". and repeat it endlessly until the questioning stops.

Aaron Circumnavigates the Kitchen Floor

So, Aaron is on the move. Not very quickly or very well, but he has discovered that if he arches his back just so and squirms in just the right way he is capable of incrementally moving himself around. If I place him on a slippery blanket on the kitchen floor, he can actually turn himself a full 360 degrees. Its kind of funny, because I'll set him down, and I look over a few minutes later and he's kicking the dishwasher, or chewing on the leg of his bouncy chair, or batting at a Weeble that I thought was completely out of reach.

He also tried to throw himself off the couch the other day. I propped him up in the corner of the couch so I could do something for Andrew, and next thing I know he has thrown himself forward onto his tummy and is rolling himself off the couch, face first.

I think I should enjoy his happy and mellow temperment now before he gets too much more active. Because he's going to be one of those under-the-gate, on-top-of-the-refrigerator, half-way-across-the-parking-lot kids. Ah well, that will mean Andrew can keep his spot surgically attached to my leg without any competition.

Who Knew?

Jill -- [noun]: A person with a taste for acorns 'How" will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

You know you need to clean your oven more often when . . .

you hear your two and a half year old saying "oh no, the smoke alarm went off. We'd better open the door to our little house" while pretend playing in a box house you made for him.

Does Conrad Black have a Discworld Doppelganger?

and can Jill spell Doppleganger properly? We think not.

A few years ago, when it was hot off the presses (in paperback -- I'm cheap) I bought and read Terry Pratchett's "Going Postal". It is book 30ish in his wonderfully good Discworld Series. Many of the books in this series randomly pick up and drop stories from the lives of a few major characters -- the Witches (primarily Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg), the Watchmen (mostly Sam Vimes, but also his fellow workers), Rincewind, and Death (and more recently his grand-daughter Susan). Once in a while he also write a novel from the perspective of a new character, and introduces us to some new characters. Going Postal was particularly exciting becuase it was going to be a novel with a new main character -- Moist Von Lipwig.
I must say, on first reading the book I was disapointed. Many of the main characters were reworked versions of characters we have seen before -- Stanely was a lot like the "Phantom" in Masquerade, Junior Postmaster Groat was a bit like Sgt. Colon, and the golems were like, well, Golems. Moist was different, but also similar to many of Pratchett's protagonists -- an ordinary, self-made man driven into a powerful position by the force of his personality and ablility to think quickly and properly apply "headology" to any given situation. The plot was fun, but did not have the sparkle that I've come to expect from a typical Pratchett plot. I finished the book disapointed and a bit confused.

Then, this year, Conrad Black appeared back on the scene. For those of you who don't know, Conrad Black is a Canadian "media baron", who basically bought up almost all the newspapers in Canada, homogenized and streamlined them until they became a cash cow, sold the lot of them for a tremendous amount of money, and took the money (rather than giving it to shareholders) and moved to England where he managed to become "Lord Black". He is presently in Chicago being charged with fraud, racketeering, etc, etc.

When I heard about this case in the news I realized that Going Postal was a completely different beast than I had thought it was. It was a study in character. It asked the question, "Where do people like Conrad Black come from, and how in the world do they get away with soaking people for so much money?". So we have the minor fraudster, Moist von Lipwig, and his nemisis, the major fraudster, Lord Reacher Gilt. Reacher Gilt has, incidentally, bought his title and appeared on the scene in Ankh-Morpork out of the blue with large amounts of cast to throw around. He, of course, meets his match in Ankh-Morpork because he runs into one of my favorite characters, Lord Vetinari, Patrician of said city.

Reading the book from this perspective made it a lot more fun and interesting. The question "what motivates a person to spend his life soaking others for money, especially when he is obviously intelligent enough to rise to power and money some other way?" Pratchett's answer: because he can. Because he is facinated by humanity's ability to beleive patently ridiculous things if it appeals to their emotions or their pocketbook, and he is waiting for someone to stop him. The thrill is in the game, not the money or power that may come at the end of it.

In Going Postal there are several levels of the game. There is Moist's game to become trusted by the postal workers and the city, there is Reacher's game to take over the Grand Trunk, there is the game between these two con men, and overarching it all, there is the Patrician's game.

My second read of the book was much more enjoyable, and I would now suggest that you read it and see if you agree.

In Case you're wondering where I've been. . .

I've been working on this. This is a quilt for my niece, Kaylee. She is two months older than Aaron, and I am making them "matching" cousin quilts. Kaylees is green, as that is the colours of my sister-in-law's baby room, and Aaron's has the same blocks, but will be blue, just because the fabrics will look good with blue.
Kaylee is the second Chapman grandchild, and Steve and Amanda's first baby. When I was making this quilt, I had to try to strike a balance between my own desire to do something really funky, and the reality that Amanda would probably like something a little bit more traditionally babyish. So I settled on making a flannel quilt with a traditional block and really cute fabrics in the pinwheels.
Originally this quilt was going to have a white and yellow honeybee print where you see the soft yellow checks, and dark green sashings (that's the borders for you non-quilters). But the green fabric was in the same line as the red fabric in my monkey quilt that bled through and ruined my quilt, so it is sitting in my basement in the corner where it will stay indefinitely. I tried a block with the honey been fabric, but it was way too busy, and would have clashed and competed with my pinwheel prints. Of course, I did not try making a block until I had cut about a thousand squares of the honeybee fabric (completely ignoring the admonishment in every pattern on earth to "try one block before cutting the whole quilt") so I am now bound to make a pinwheel or one-patch quilt with it using 4 1/2 inch squares.
After that, there were really no major problems with this quilt. I think that's mostly because I took the extra time to do all those little picky things like square off my blocks (which was necessary because they were very crooked -- many had been sewn together while two children sat on my lap), and clip corners. I really like the quilting I did -- I just quilted around the pinwheels , the edges of the blocks and the little squares, which emphasized the cute little fabrics in the pinwheels. I am also especially happy with the backing fabric, which I think is very cute and funky.

I have all the blocks for Aaron's quilt finished, I just have to cut the strips of blue, put the thing together, quilt it and bind it (well, okay, so maybe "just" is not the right word). Anyway, you should see it coming soon in a blog post near you.

Can someone please

give me permission to throw out some yogurt containers? In BC you could recycle them, along with all other 2, 4, and 5 recyclable plastics by putting them in your bin at the curb. Here I've been thinking I'll find a use for them, but my "tupperware" drawer and the cupboard next to it are now crammed with yogurt containers, plastic egg cartons, and coffee tins. One day my house is going to burn down as they combust from the sheer pressure of me cramming one more yogurt container in that huge stack and shutting my cupboard door. Oh yeah, and can someone explain to me why the President's free range eggs come in plastic containers instead of paper? Is it too much to ask that we get TWO things right in the same product?

Winnipeg, in breif

I was hoping to be able to do a big long, reflective post about my trip to Winnipeg. However, my children have chosen to become monsters, and I'm in the midst of quilt fever (when I can almost taste that the quilt is coming to an end, but still actually have about 6 or 8 hrs of work left and become a quilting fiend). So here's the short version:

Friday night I left my town and headed for Yorkton after youth group. All went well. The boys slept, I did not, and we got to Yorkton around 2:30 am and checked into a hotel.

Saturday we woke up and watched some tv while mom tried to rest for a while longer (like, until 7:30). Then we went to Smitty's for breakfast and were on the road by 9am. 7 diapers, 9 pairs of pants and 8 hours later we arrived in Winnipeg with only 2 crying jags. Andrew refused to read or play with any toys because he was determined that we were going to Winnipeg, and I guess he thought this should take his full concentration for the day. Aaron was exhausted after being up until 11 the night before, and slept or played quietly for 6 hours. Then, right around portage, he woke up and stated fussing. Ironically, we had to stop in Portage at the Days Inn 5 min. from my sister's house, where we were going later in the week. After that we got the rest of the way to Winnipeg. Kym and Jeff's house was welcoming, warm and lovely as ever, and they were very gracious about Andrew's 30 min. crying jag upon our arrival (he had finally fallen asleep just around when Aaron woke up), followed by supper and putting the kids to bed and having the initial "Wow, Kym, you're a mom. Tell me about that" conversation, which took until about 1:30 am.

Sunday morning, after lenghthy preparations and a thwarted attempt to walk, we drove the 10 or so blocks to Kym and Jeff's inner city community church. It was Baptist, and so both familliar and newly strange to me. We got through the service and I actually got to sing 2 songs before chaos broke loose, which I guess is about normal. Sunday afternoon I went to visit my brother Derrick and his wife Deb and three teenage sons. We had a great visit, and it was fun to see my nefews growing older. Also, because I"m a bit of an oddball, it is always good to see other members of my family and realize that there are other people out there like me. Andrew was very excited to see Marc's toys (Marc is 12 now, but still has lots of soldiers, little cars, etc), and Aaron was happy to be licked and mauled by Chipper, their dog. It was a great visit, the highlight of which was, unfortunately, when I started laughing while drinking and spewed lemonade everywhere. Classy, Jill. Then Kym and I had a great visit again that evening after all the babies were alseep.

Monday we had been planning to go to the zoo, but it was raining and miserable, so we were going to go to the mall. Instead, Kym remembered there was a children's museum in town and we headed out to the Forks (the best place in the world) and checked it out. There was a big, old engine and coach from a turn of the century train, and a construction section that kept Andrew occupied for two or three hours. He was dissapointed that the train didn't have a steering wheel (which makes sense, since there isn't really any steering to do when you are driving down tracks) but instead there were a ton of little buttons, switches and levers which were a bit over his head yet. The construction section, on the other hand, had the seat and levers from an excavator, which was attatched to a small arm and bucket in a glass case full of little beads. Andrew loved it, and meanwhile Aaron rode in the sling and looked around and Sam (Kym's son) had a nap. We tried their story time, but the woman who was telling the story had a really strong Spanish accent, and Andrew was the only kid there, so it didn't work very well. By the time we were done there, the sun was out, so we went for a walk and checked out this great toy store and also a fare trade shop at the forks. We did lots of what I like to call "parenting in public" -- diaper changes, breastfeeding, snacking, stopping to play and let babies kick on the ground -- in the middle of stores, museums, malls, fields and picnic sites. That night Kym almost burnt down her house but I heroically rescued her with only a wine glass and Kleenex box as casualties of the incident.

Tuesday morning Andrew and Aaron and I went for a wander through Kym's downtown neighbourhood to the park. The coolest thing was that I was carrying Aaron in the sling, and on my way back from the park, there were 3 aboriginal people sitting on a bench. One older man started yelling a word at me, and I just kind of looked at him but didn't know what to say. Then he called out "You carry baby -- in my language, a ______" and repeated the word. He was excited to see someone, especially a white woman, carrying her baby. It was cool. In the afternoon we went to see the Winnipeg zoo. Andrew was not very impressed with most of the animals, but he was very taken with the plastic carts I wasn't willing to spend $4 to let him ride (since I had a stroller and two baby carriers with me). Everyone told me he would LOVE the monkey house, but he spent our whole time there playing with the wheels on my stroller. Aaron loved the monkeys, and they loved him. Andrew was interested in the camels and liked seeing Zebras, but I guess he's just not much of an animal person. That night Jeff's friend Chris came over and Andrew was initially scared of him, but since he has a 3 yr old daughter he knew how to warm Andrew up. By the end of the night Andrew was out playing in the back yard with Jeff and Chris and crying that he had to come in. Kym and I both crashed that night after our marathon of public parenting and late night visits, but we had a great time.

The next morning I left for Portage la Prarie and visited my sister Donna and her very extended family (Donna has 5 of her 6 children living at home, plus 4 or 5 foster kids, one former foster kid and an old man who didn't have a place to stay and now pays room and board to them, plus 8 cats, 6 dogs and an auto mechanics shop plus Don and Beck who dropped by to visit). It was great to see them all and find out what they were doing, although my visit was kind of cut short by my hellish attempt to put Andrew and Aaron to sleep. Aaron's tummy was not happy because I had eaten (duh) coleslaw with horseradish in it, and Andrew was wired because he was in a new place. It was about an hour and a half ordeal full of 5 diaper changes, lots of manic 2 year old laughter and baby screams and mommy yells. By the time I got back Lost was on, and the next morning Andrew was fully ready to go home, so that was the end of our visit. It was fun to watch Andrew play with Don and Mel's toys from when they were his age (some 20 years ago) and to watch him run around with the kittens. As usual, he couldn't just pat the kittens and play string games with them like a normal child. No, instead he ran around with them saying "We're three kitties playing, we're three kitties playing.". It was very cute and let me visit with Donna, which was nice.

Thursday we made the epic trip home. I was going to eat breakfast at Donna's and then stop at the grocery store before we got on the road, but Andrew was done with strange places, so we got in the car and stopped at Tim Hortons and got on the road. It took us a full 13 hours to drive the 650 kms home. We stopped in almost every little town along the way and encountered a great organic bakery in Neepawa, a log cabin style resteraunt where the waitress confided in me that she was 3 weeks pregnant, a gas station where the power had gone out and I had to breastfeed Aaron and put Andrew on the potty in the back corner of their convenience store because there were not lights in the bathroom and the wind would have blown us all over (thus the power outage), and eccentric giant swing made out of tractor equiptment, a very small town gas station with only one pump, and a bus load full of people who got to watch Andrew go potty as they got off the bus (I didnt' realize we were parked right in front of the back lane where the Greyhound stopped). It was a very long, but generally good trip home. We were all extremely glad to be home in our own bed and to see our dad again. Whew. It was a good, but very full and tiring week.

I realzied that as long as you are willing to unabashedly parent in public and it is nice outside, you can do almost anything with your children. And I was glad to get in touch with people from my past, who know me as someone other than "the minister's wife" or "Andrew's mom", and who I could really talk to about things because of that. And it was great to catch up with all my dear friends and family in Winnipeg and introduce them to my new son.

Feeling Lost

Ever have those days when you just feel lost? You feel like some part of you has been hidden somewhere else, and you are just sort of wandering through the day, watching your empty body go through the motions? I'm having one of those days. I'm just kind of blank today. I feel like if someone looked at my face they would just see two black eyeballs and a line where my mouth was supposed to be and nothing else.

It Hurts.

My inner crunchy mamma is suffering today. I had to make 13 cheesecakes for a tea I'm organizing on Saturday (have I ever been to a tea? nope). And rather than make real baked cheesecake I went the cream cheese, sugar, cool whip and pre-made crust route. You know, it is just wrong to feed people something that, once unfrozen, "keeps for two weeks in your refrigerator" and smells vaguely like marshmellows at room temperature, yet is supposed to replace a dairy product. Edible oils, anyone? Would you like some whipped petrolium topping with that hydrogenated crumb crust? But seriously, for $3 a head and with two small children, did I really have the time to bake 13 cheesecakes? And if I had, you know what would have happened? Someone would have complained that they weren't "real" cheesecake. I just know it. I hope I can get away with using strawberries in syrup instead of strawberry pie filling.

Now, on to creating some suitably sweet centerpieces. I thought about being ironic and doing candles wrapped in steel wool with some sort of gold painted cleaning implement on either side, but I don't think your typical "Mothers Day Tea" attendee around here would get the joke. The ladies in my church would think it was funny, but not everyone has such a good sense of humour.

You know you live in a small town . . .

or at least a town with a small amount of younger families when you run into a woman you haven't seen in 3 months and she asks you how your trip to Winnipeg went, and you ask her how her 4 week old baby is doing and know how premature he was and what his name is.

Bewildered by Freedom

Dave took both the boys on a drive to the closest town. They're going to get a snack and come home so I can have a little bit of alone time after having full care of both of them for a week. This is my first longish seperation from Aaron (2 hrs) and I feel kind of lost without him here to check in on and kind of naked without him in my arms. I'm sure all will be well.

Facebook and Enviromentalism

Okay, so what is with this? I had heard of facebook before, but all of a sudden this week I got 4 invitations to join from my irl friends on email and there was a big discussion about it on "Q" on CBC. How does this happen in our culture? Something is sort of on the fringes, or only really relevant to a certain segment of the population, and then suddenly it explodes into both the media and our every day life.

Its been the same with the environment. Like we haven't known we were destroying our planet for the last 15 or 20 years? Yet all of a sudden everyone is interested in going green. Every flyer, magazine, and news show suddenly has all these articles and reports on how to be "green". But we've all known we need to be green for years and years. Or maybe the rest of us knew and the Baby Boomers (the only people that really matter) finally figured it out, and since they're in charge of everything (and will be for the forseeable future) it finally hit the collective conciousness. I just hope people take it seriously this time. Last time around, everyone soothed their consciences by recycling their cans and paper and continued to consume even more than they had before. I'll bet this time people will just switch to ethanol in their SUVs, put flourecent lightbulbs in their giant houses and then keep consuming. I wish people would figure out that we have to rethink our entire society and lifestyle in order to save the planet, not just buy recyled toilet paper and rechargable batteries.

Um, oh yeah, so should I join facebook or what? I kind of agree with the Gen Xer they had on the CBC interview who said "all the people I want to be in touch with know how to get a hold of me already, so why do I need it?". But then, I wouldn't mind finding some of my UCFV friends who might be out there . . . but then, I don't really need to waste any more time on the internet than I already do. I might give it a try. But then, I might not because now its just so mainstream -- what would be the point?

We Survived!

Well, we are back from Winnipeg in one piece and with no emotional scars! Andrew is a little bruised up from falling down Kym and Jeff's stairs, and I am a little disoriented returning to our home after being at the Lukins. You know in those home decor magazines and tv shows they have the "before" and "after" shots? My entire house is a "before" shot. The Lukins entire house is an "after" shot. They are the kind of people who just know how to make things simple and beautiful and organized. So it is kind of depressing to be back in our barren home after being at their house. But it was a good trip, and I was glad to reconnect with Kym and meet Sam, their son (the one I made the monkey quilt for). It was also good to see my brother and sister, and to check in with all my nieces and nefews (9 of the 15 of them live in Winnipeg or Portage). Andrew had a blast at the Children's museum and an ok time at the zoo (I love zoos). Aaron did very well considering that he was in so many new places, and that his older brother was taking up (even) more attention than usual, and that his mom kept forgetting that red wine makes him fussy the next day (oops).

I'll write a little photo essay later this week once I emerge from the giant piles of laundry that I still have to do. Hopefully I'll get to it between that and making 13 cheesecakes and finding some kind of centerpiece and distributing posters for the Mother's Day Tea I'm running next Saturday. Fortunately after that there is a momentary break in the madness. Whew.

Adventures

My apologies for my lack of posts, but all my spare (ha, ha) time has been taken up with assorted adventures. These included going to Prince Albert with the two boys for the day by myself (its an hour drive away), running a youth group overnighter with one and then both boys in attendance, and preparations for my upcoming trip to Winnipeg.

Yes, Winnipeg. I get Winnipeg cravings every once in a while if I don't go and visit my excellent family and friends, not to mention that fine city itself. Winipeg has a special place in my heart. So special, in fact, that I am leaving tonight to drive there with Andrew and Aaron. I can't cancel youth group, and I have no one to do it for me, so my trip has to fit inbetween two Friday nights. So I am leaving tonight after youth group, then arriving home either Thursday night or Friday afternoon so that I can run youth group again next week.

I figure that even if it is a complete disaster, it will still be a great blog entry. Stay tuned next week for the further adventures of Jill.

I Once More Flunk the Middle Class Mom Test

You may remember my post about the Christmas party a Andrew and I attended earlier this year? Well, I get together for coffee with the same group of women on Tuesday mornings. Right now a lot of them are back at work, and my friend is looking after two of their toddlers for a few weeks before they go off on maternity leave.

Not to be sterotypical (I only say that because Kris is going to leave another nasty comment), but these women are almost all elementry school teachers. And we all know what that means. They are VERY PARTICULAR. Their children never go anywhere without perfect hair, old navy colour co-ordinated clothes, appropriate footwear and a change of clothes, a bib, a snack and sippy cup (prefrably matching) containing little toddler puffs and watered down apple juice, and slippers. Yes, these two year olds all have slippers. One even has home-made knitted slippers, that they are required to wear around the house. These are very civilized children.

Well, you have all seen pictures of my less than civilized child. I beleive that you can only get away with looking entirely dishevelled for a certain number of years of your life (okay, in my case it was about 25 years) so you might as well take full advantage of it while you can. If Andrew is matching, it is usually because it was laundry yesterday and I had cappuccino at breakfast time.

Two weeks ago, we were heading out the door to coffee, and Andrew was helping get himself ready and he put on his own rubber boots, hat and mitts. Which was very helpful. We get to my friends' house, and he takes off his rubber boots to reveal . . . that he is not wearing any socks. All the other perfectly coiffed and mannered toddler boys have robeez or hand knitted slippers on. And my son has bare feet.

Assistant to Mr Chapman: His Mother

Andrew has discovered the power of costume. I, as a former drama minor and consumate sewer, am quite proud of him for making this discovery. I am not pleased, however, that I am apparently his personal dresser and assistant.

"I want my overalls on, mommy. And my shoes. I'm Bob the Builder"
"Take my overalls off. Take my shoes off. I want my rubber boots. I am a fireman."
"Oh, the kitty fur is clean. Take my shirt off. Put on my kitty fur. I'm a little kitty (in a high, falsetto voice)"

My favorite transformation was the other day. Andrew was sitting on the floor, playing with blocks and his excavator, when he suddenly saw his red rubber boots (his "inside" boots which are hand-me-downs 3 sizes too big). He put them on and demanded, "Go to the basement and be a fireman with me, mommy. Come on, Mark". I was in the middle of nursing Aaron and my back was sore so I didn't feel like toting him, one armed, to the basement, so I said, "Not right now, Mark. After the baby is done eating". Andrew takes off the rubber boots and says "Oh, I've got a lot to do today, Wendy. I'm Bob."

I think its time for a shop at chez VV to find some dress up clothes. Some easily removable dress up clothes. It really does become tedious to put on velcro running shoes with one hand while nursing a baby with the other.

Someone shares my passion for lost shopping carts!

Those of you who knew me in my younger days are aware of my fascination with lost shopping carts. I love the way they look as if they have personalities. As if they are almost alive, as they sit, waiting, in odd places around the city. Thunder Bay had a particularly large population of abandoned shopping carts, for some reason, and they tweaked my imagination like few other things did.

I have also raced in shopping carts and went through numerous fast food drive thrus in shopping carts (it is a 4-wheeled moving vehicle, so they had to serve me). But that is another story.

I was really excited to see this:
http://ca.news.yahoo.com/s/capress/070413/koddities/books_odd_titles

pop up on my Yahoo! screen when I turned on my computer this morning. I am seriously going to buy this book. I haven't been so excited about an ironic book since I saw Douglas Copland's collage book . .. what was it called now? Snapshots of Canada? Something like that.

Here is the website. http://www.strayshoppingcart.com/shopping_cart/1_introduction.htm
My favorite classification has to be "True Stray: Naturalized".

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.