Baby Milestone

Today, Chichi rolled over for the first time! I can't see the majority of my readers finding this remotely interesting, but I wanted it documented somewhere, and I'm sure the odd family member who reads this might want to know. So there it is. Actually, the first thing I thought was, "Great, now learn to sit up so you can get crawling". I should smack myself for thinking such a thing as the next thing I know, she'll be three, kicking me out of her room, contradicting EVERYTHING that I say, and asking me to buy her every toy in existence. I'll be longing for the the simpler times where rolling over was the extent of her independence.

Hey, remember that family room renovation that was to be completed before Chichi was born? Although everyone stopped rushing once they missed that deadline, and although Chichi is almost ready to start college, this Friday will be the big day. Yes, the flooring guys will be coming in to put on the final coat of varnish, and then we will be able to move our furniture in! All the finishing touches will come later, but you have to understand that I did not feel motivated to buy end tables and art work seeing as we already had to pay over a year's worth of storage fees for the stuff that we actually did order. The physical construction took six months, but the plans were drawn up OVER TWO YEARS AGO! Longest one-room reno in history. Pictures coming soon!

November 18th

One year ago today, ...I probably threw up.

Two years ago today, Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes got married. This must have made someone throw up.

Three years ago today, I probably got thrown up on

Four years ago today, ...yeah, I probably threw up.

(Wow, this post is not developing the romantic sentiment that I initially intended. It gets better, I promise)

Six years ago today, we moved into our first house, and started our family.

Seven years ago today, our wedding day, you made me, and continue to make me happier than I ever thought possible.

Happy Anniversary, Baby!

Bon Voyage!

We woke up yesterday and didn't have an out-of-town wedding to go to. It felt strange. Yes, wedding season is over. No more figuring out how to dress given that things don't fit right yet. The dress I wore a month ago to wedding #2 of the year fit fairly well at the time, but I've lost a little bit of the baby weight since then so when I wore it last week at wedding #4, I didn't look too svelte. Oh well. My regularly schleppy self will resume immediately. Bring on the elastic pants!

On an unrelated topic, many months ago, hubby and I talked my mom into taking a 35 day cruise with a friend of hers. The price was relatively good, and the opportunity was once-in-a-life-time, so she booked the trip, not entirely knowing if it was a good idea. Today was her day of departure. Seeing her for the last time for five weeks, I became a little verklempt as I watched her wheel her brand new luggage into the airport, hair perfectly coiffed, as she looked back at me somewhat nervously. I'm so happy for her that she is going on this adventure given that she hasn't been able to travel much throughout her life due to the whole single mom thing, coupled with financial constraints. That being said, boy am I screwed! My mom has pretty much been here five days a week helping me with the two kids since July, so I'm going from mom overdose to mom deprivation. Truthfully, I know I'll be able to hack it with the kids, but I'm not promising that I'll be getting that daily shower or preparing my usual gourmet meals. Hey, if you happen to be reading this, can you send over a casserole? Much appreciated.

Childhood Crush

The first time that I felt something for him was in grade three. I sent my friend over to tell this boy that I thought that he was cute. He told her to tell me that he hated my guts. I guess that he was still at the girls-are-icky stage. Either that or he really did hate me, but let's not smash my eight year old ego, mmmmkay? I wasn't overly fazed by his response at the time, and don't know what I expected him to do with that information anyways.

The next school year, I found myself staring at him a lot, and looked forward to the end of the year party where I might have a chance to dance with him. Slow dancing was new to our class, and it was as romantic as things got for us at that age. The boy with his hands on the girl's waist, the girl with her hands on the boy's shoulders, arms extended forward as far as possible while rocking back and forth from one foot to the other. Mike had danced with Shelly for most of the party, who I foolishly decided to confide in. When I told her that I was hoping to dance with Mike too, she though it hilarious and ran to laugh about it with Mike and his friends. Bitch. I remember hoping that her antennae-like, orthodontic head-gear would get caught in the door of the bus.

By grade five, my crush was in full gear. It had the kind of uncomplicated intensity that I believe that only a pre-teen girl can muster up. Shelly had already outed me the year before, so I felt free to talk about Mike to anyone who would listen. Apparently, I even confided in my teacher, who I recently learned was a good friend of Mike's mother. They had a good laugh at my expense when Mrs. Teacher told Mrs. Mike that I one day whined, "I like him soooo much and he doesn't even know that I'm alive!" I was pathetic on two levels; one for actually saying that; and two, for actually telling my teacher. Yup. I was cool. I also may have read too many Archie comics and identified myself with Betty.

That crush lasted through to the end of elementary school, but fizzled out when we moved on to Jr. High, where the world opened up a little bit more. Mike and I had all the same friends, so we hung out every now and then, but it wasn't like when we were younger and I stalked him well enough to know where he lived, his phone number, his birthday, and the fact that his mouth opened whenever anyone took a shot on net during the foot hockey games that he played at recess.

Our casual friendship carried on through high school, and even through university when we e-mailed each other every so often just to catch up. It wasn't until after university that we started talking more frequently, visiting each other, and forming what I would consider to be a true friendship. It was then that I gained an appreciation for his dry sense of humour, his intelligence, and the overall good person that he is.

My eyes welled up with tears at the wedding when I saw Mike standing at the altar. As I held my husband's hand, waiting for the bride to march down the aisle, I found myself feeling reflective. Despite the tuxedo, he still looked like the Mike that I knew from elementary school, and I could so vividly see him in his old yellow and green hockey jersey that he wore almost every day in grade five. Thinking about that, I wished that I could see the face on my eleven year old self if I could tell her that she will be there on Mike's wedding day, that she won't be the one getting married to him, and that she will be thrilled just to be a part of it. My eleven year old self would never see this as an acceptable scenario, but my thirty-something year old self knows that a friendship like this is rare, and all that all that pining is just a funny part of the history that Mike and I share.

Have Pumpkins; Will Travel

Last Saturday, we went to a pumpkin carving party (I am referring to those orange things filled with seeds, not my daughter, Pumpkin). I reluctantly carved up two pumpkins, only to discover that it was kind of fun. I have no faith in my creative abilities, but after whining about the task for ten minutes or so, I got into it. I think I did a pretty good job too!

My daughter, Pumpkin, wasn't at all interested, but later in the week, she asked me to carve up the tiny pumpkin that we picked up on a school field trip, so the idea must have sunk in at some point. Those jack-o-lanterns sat in my flower planters for the week, and were relocated to my mom's place on Friday since her's was the neighbourhood where we did our trick-or-treating. My street has only a few houses on it, and is a bit of a secret from the rest of the world, so it isn't a good area for all things Halloween. My brother actually had to argue with a cab driver about the location of my house as the cabbie was certain that there were no houses where my brother was telling him to go. Anyhow, trick-or-treating in Ma's neighbourhood was a hit once again. Pumpkin was dressed as a poodle, Chichi was stuffed in a sling, and Hubby and I took them out for some good, ol' fashioned begging. It is kind of rare that we ever do anything as a family of four, but I really enjoy it when we do. I am still amazed at how much candy one can get when one travels with cute children. As an added bonus, in true Pumpkin fashion, she has already moved onto the next activity and has forgotten about her candy.

Speaking of the next activity, on Saturday we packed up the jack-o-lanterns and headed to Kingston for a wedding. The wedding was on a farm, and the bride and groom used the jack-o-lanterns as decorations. This was not the kind of wedding that required a professional florist. We were outside for the entire time (read: cold!!!), and with the campfire, potluck, and meat on a spit, the wedding had more of a cook-out type of feel to it. I can't say that the suckling pig was my cup of tea, but neither would you if you had seen last week's episode of Grey's Anatomy. We ate in the barn, which was also where the ceremony was held. As a cool aside, out of the dozens of jack-o-lanterns that furnished the ramp leading into the barn, two of the six that were chosen to adorn the altar were mine! I was so proud. Anyhow, although this was the strangest wedding I had ever been to, I thought it was very cool, and absolutely perfect for the bride, who has always been like a sister to me. The bride, let's call her JoJo, has never been one for following convention. The day had to be a relaxed event for her, which it totally was. Hours before the ceremony, she was wearing cargo pants, a hoodie, a blue Paddington Bear style hat, and was hangin' out with all the guest. She didn't have jitters. She wasn't worried about caterers, or anything like that. There was some order to the whole event, but they didn't follow the schedule perfectly, and didn't care. Children ran around, Pumpkin included, and added to the excitement. We sat on bales of hay during the ceremony, which was delayed due to the bride just not being ready to march yet. The music had already played, the groom was waiting, as were all the guests. I was starting to wonder if we had a runaway bride on our hands, but no one else seemed worried, and after 15 minutes or so, the music played yet again, and this time there was a bridal party to march to it. At one point, I had to drag Pumpkin out of the ceremony 'cause she wouldn't stop shouting. It was already passed her bedtime, and delirium was starting to set in, so I can't fault her too much. Nonetheless, we were able to re-join the service before that whole kissing of the bride thing that they do. Congrats to you both, JoJo and BoBo! We're so happy for you.

Anyhow, lots of driving and Pumpkin wrangling have rendered me extremely tired today. The end of daylight savings hasn't helped much either. For those of you with small children, was this not the longest day ever????

Mermaids and Wiggles

Blogging, to me, is becoming a bit like cooking. It's not that I dislike blogging the same way that I dislike cooking, but if I am going to cook, I want the meal to be fabulous. Making something fabulous, however, takes more effort than I have time and energy for, thus I don't cook as often as I should. My family does expect to be fed at some point though, which means I will eventually heat up a frozen pizza or barbecue pre-packaged meat-on-a-stick, and serve it up. I guess I'm trying to say that this post is the equivalent of pre-packaged meat-on-a-stick. Better than nothing?

This week I learned that duct taping a mermaid to the washroom wall is not enough incentive to get Pumpkin to do #2 in the toilet.

Even though she knows that the reward is to actually get to play with said mermaid, she will leave the washroom to go crap in her pants in private, then return to the washroom to talk about the mermaid. I do, however, enjoy the opportunity to showcase my '80s wallpaper, that I'm sure will come back in style if I leave it up there long enough.

Friday, Pumpkin went to the Wiggles concert with her Daddy and Grandma. I happily stayed home, missing the chance to see the joy on Pumpkin's face, but also possibly avoiding puking on the shoes of the people around me. The Wiggles have made me ill before, and I'm sure that they wouldn't hesitate to do it again. I also knew that there wasn't a guarantee that Pumpkin would love the concert. Her responses to many gifts and events have so far been somewhat underwhelming, so it was possible that I wasn't going to miss much. It turns out that she enjoyed the concert well enough, but the only thing that she wanted to tell me about when she came home was that the train was broken and that she needed a better one. I'm glad that her first time on public transit left such an impact!

That's my life this week. All potty and play, all the time. Woohoo!

The Birthday Recap

I didn't get the watch, but had a pretty good birthday regardless. The day started off with balloons, streamers, those party favour things that you blow into, and party hats. This was hubby's answer to my complaining about there being no hoopla about my birthday. Kind of a rude awakening actually, but Pumpkin thought it was hysterical, and it was very cute overall. We invited two other couples and their spawn over for dinner, and enjoyed watching three little girls dress up in princess costumes then turn the house upside down. We haven't had a lot of evenings where we socialize with other couples and their kids. Usually we dump our kids on my mom and get out for grown-up time. Family socializing seems to be fun for the kids, but the adults never actually get to talk to each other. Oh well. Only one thing got broken, and dinner was tasty. My annual birthday Indian food feast never lets me down.

Today hubby took me out to buy me my gift. As mentioned above, I did not get the watch, but technically, it is still owed to me. When I was pregnant with Chichi, I found out that we were having a girl, but hubby didn't want to know the sex of the baby. I knew that if I did not ask questions pertaining to having a boy, he would know it was a girl, so I inquired about things such as the circumcision, the potential boy's name, and started sentences with, "If we were having a boy...". I asked girl-related questions too so it didn't appear that I was trying to make him think it was a boy, but somehow he got it in his head that it was definitely a boy. Any time I steered him towards thinking it might be a girl, he thought I was just trying to keep the secret alive instead of having him "know the truth." Realizing that he would not be swayed from his belief, I asked him what kind of "push present" I could have if it was a girl. Naturally he told me that I could have whatever I wanted, thinking that it was irrelevant. I told him that I wanted Uma Thurman's watch, but added that he should get it for me regardless of the sex since I was kind enough to be birthing his child. He said that I could only get the watch if I produced a girl. Hee hee. One day I'll collect. For today, my new earings will do! Is this not the most superficial babble you've read today?

It's the Gift that Counts!

So here I am, on the eve of my birthday, hangin' with my dogs while the kids are sleeping. A few years back, I would have been jumping out of my skin on this particular occasion. I've always loved my birthday. As a child, it was the anticipation of gifts, as well as the belief that the whole day was about me. As I got older, it became about the anticipation of gifts, as well as the belief that the whole day was about me. I don't know where the excitement went, but somehow this day managed to sneak up on me and I hadn't really noticed. Sure, my family members have been asking me about gift ideas, and Pumpkin is jumping for birthday cake, but I'm not feeling it the way that I used to. It has nothing to do with getting older either. I'm where I want to be at this stage in my life, so my age really doesn't bother me. I think I'm going to blame my husband. This morning he mentioned my birthday, and asked me what he could get me. I can't believe that he is only asking today instead of having spent the last two weeks planning a special surprise. He always asks instead of trying to surprise me, lest he make a bad choice. The truth is, I'd rather be surprised, but only if it's a surprise that I want. Maybe I'm the one to blame. Nonetheless, I'm going to give hubby a hard time. My mom can't babysit on my actual birthday, so she offered to babysit tonight such that hubby and I could catch a movie. He already had plans to play poker, but he said with a look of guilt and sadness that he would go to the movie if I wanted him to. Naturally I told him to go play poker such that he doesn't resent me for suffocating him in a deathtrap of a marriage, but really I think he should have insisted on the movie. Now he's going to be sorry that he is giving me the opportunity to pick my own gift. Do you like this watch?:

I could learn to love my birthday again.

Happy Happy

The universe has delivered. Back when I registered Pumpkin for pre-school, I decided on three days per week, which proved to be a mistake. I should have enrolled her for five, but I was worried that she would feel rejected due the new baby on the scene. Well, after experiencing just how long a day could be with both Pumpkin and Chichi at home, I started looking for some other sort of program that I could ship Pumpkin off to. Nothing really compared to a solid three-hour morning of school though. Then the best thing happened! Someone dropped out of her school on the days that Pumpkin wasn't attending! Yup, I'm rejoicing over the fact that some other child in the class probably suffered severe separation anxiety and had to give up his or her spot. I scooped those days up pretty quickly. Woohoo! Excuse my lack of compassion, but I've gotta look after my family and sanity first and foremost. I love spending time with Pumpkin, but when we are stuck at home, we tend to run out of things to do, and end up resorting to watching videos. Once the videos get boring, Pumpkin then resorts to tormenting the dogs, or whining up a storm. I guess I'm never actually "stuck" at home, but I can't say that I always have somewhere to go. All those friends/playdates/parties that I planned on for this stage in my life; not so much. The fact that my social life is a wash shouldn't be Pumpkin's problem. She should be happier now too.

I Don't Want to Complain, But...

I am a lucky individual. I am healthy. I don't live in an impoverished, war torn or hurricane ravaged country. I have a happy marriage with two beautiful, healthy children. My parents are alive and healthy. I have a lovely home. We can afford nice cars and other luxuries. That being said, can I reserve the right to complain, if only for a teeny, tiny moment, about my cleaning lady phoning in sick on the week that I am expecting twelve people for dinner on one night, then another seven guests over the week-end?

Not Dressed Up with Somewhere to Go

Had we known how much time we would spend as adults looking for car keys, sunglasses, etc., would we have been so inclined, as children, to always be playing hide-and-go-seek? Just one of the many deep thoughts that I come up with each day.

Taking off from Kittenpie's post about the misery of dressing the postpartum body, I would like to add further complaints. Right now, my body is thinking of returning to it's regular weight, but hasn't quite reached this ultimate goal. For the time being, I wear old jeans that were always too big for me, and an assortment of large t-shirts that I purchased during my previous postpartum wardrobe woes. Overall, I have succeeded in being not naked, which you should all be thanking me for. I look schleppy, and haven't cared too much until recently. This look is starting to create a problem for me. I keep getting invited to events that require me to look nice. For the most part, I refuse to buy clothes for this current body of mine. To me, buying clothes right now is like admitting defeat. I do NOT plan to spend much time in this current shape, and I will NOT appease this shape by trying to make it look nice. Then last week, there was an unveiling for my late mother-in-law, preceded by a nice dinner with some relatives that came in from out of town. Ripped jeans were not gonna cut it. I tore through my closet to find anything that would go over these unwanted curves of mine, and managed, with the help of a pair of Spanx, to look like I was at least trying. Spanx are great if breathing isn't important to you. I was in a bit of pain, but I got through the two events, and thought, phew! Unfortunately, my relief was short lived. We are now in the middle of the Jewish High Holidays, three of which days require me to dress up nice and attend synagogue services. I'm using the breast-feeding excuse to get out of actually going to the synagogue, but there are still extended family meals to attend, where everyone still has to look nice. Yesterday I re-used an outfit from last week, and today I'm just sayin' "fack it!". That's not really what I'm sayin', but I don't usually swear in full on this site. That brings me to the three weddings I have in this upcoming month. They aren't black tie, but I know that I can't get away with the current wardrobe, with the exception of the Halloween wedding where we are encouraged to wear costumes. If it fits, I might just go in my slutty pirate outfit. What? You mean you don't have one of those too? As for the other weddings, I asked around for something to borrow, but came up short. Literally. My friends are all taller than me. I had no choice but to admit temporary defeat and buy something. So sad. Anyhow, if you are having an event, and I can't attend dressed like a bum or wearing my new, black evening dress, don't invite me. It's too stressful.

Gourmet Night at Casa Mac & Cheese

I finally opened up that Jessica Seinfeld cookbook that I bought many moons ago, but tossed aside due to pregnancy nausea, coupled with some pretty gross sounding recipes. Every recipe in the book is designed to hide nutritious food in other food such that kids don't know that they're eating something good for them. It would be great if I could get Pumpkin to eat well, but I have to confess, I'm not much better than Pumpkin. I'm actually worse because I'm supposed to know better. I do force down veggies at some of my meals, but it's usually in the form of a salad or coleslaw, and not some of the more "hard core" veggies. Today I decided to make Jessica's chicken nuggets, which are made by dipping the chicken in a broccoli/egg mixture, then breading it in a bread crumb/flax meal mixture. The chicken nuggets are then supposed to be fried in a pan, but I baked them in the oven as I was certain that I would burn them in the pan. I did try to fry a couple of them as an experiment, and although I did burn them a little, I think I could figure out how to do it right for next time. Anyhow, since Jessica Seinfeld included family testimony along with each of her recipes, I figured I'd let you know what my family thought.

Mom thought they were delicious! She even suggested that I make them again, and not worry about frying them.

Hubby thought that they were really good. He even stated so in a tone that told me that he meant it, rather than his usual, scripted tone. You know what I'm talking about. The same tone that accompanies phrases such as, "Nah, your ass didn't change at all with this pregnancy".

Pumpkin didn't like the way that the breading fell off the chicken when she pinched it. Once that happened, she refused to actually taste it. Instead, she had a time-out for blowing spit bubbles at me, then returned to the kitchen to eat a banana. That's actually an example of a good eating night.

I thought it was quite tasty. Although my house smelled like fermenting garbage as a result of steaming something as vile as broccoli, the other ingredients hid most of it's disgusting flavour, which I was able to totally finish off by using a honey mustard dip.

Chichi sat in her swing and said, "Ack!", which I think translates to, "What's the deal with the fermenting garbage???"

This gourmet meal was inspired by the pressure to sit down to dinner as a family, which, according to the media, will increase my childrens chances of having a bright future, and be less likely to use drugs. Whatever. I am personally more likely to abuse alcohol after these attempts to get Pumpkin to sit still and actually eat.

Kids are Icky

This past week, Pumpkin:

• Peed on the new couch
• Peed in several pairs of underwear
• Pooed in several pairs of underwear
• Smeared her lunch all over the counter, then licked it up
• Chewed her hair, her sleeve, her jacket zipper, her blanket...
• Stuck a finger in each of her nostrils at the same time
• After doing the double nose pick, she grabbed a food storage container that I was using
• Ate sand
• Made spit bubbles and let them dribble all over the house

She's really gross!

Found Kitten

Yesterday a man from a nearby business knocked on my door to see if I owned the stray cat that he found. I'm guessing it was the same cat that came by my yard earlier this evening. It didn't actually act like a stray as it was quite docile, playing the way that a house cat would play. It had no collar, and may have been dumped around here seeing as we live near a conservation area. Hubby played with it a bit, but we couldn't take it in due to my allergies, and also because of one of my dogs who would probably attack it. It parked itself on my front step for the rest of the evening and even tried to get into the house. My SIL happened to be over for dinner tonight with her husband. They are almost never here for dinner. They are cat people. They left with the cat in a Hewlett Packard box. Is that the universe taking care of business or what? They already have two cats and aren't looking for another, so they are hoping that they can find someone who can take it in. If you're in the market for a cute black & white kitty....

This and That

My mom is home. YAY! I did survive her being on vacation for two weeks, but I'm glad she's back. I managed ok without the extra help during the weekdays, but I never got used to being so constrained. Maybe if given more time, I would have ventured out regardless. I wasn't completely home-bound, but I certainly went out less than usual. Chichi just isn't the type of baby to be content in her stroller for long periods of time, so I couldn't visualize us all hitting a book store or coffee shop, or any place where I need to keep Pumpkin on good behaviour while trying to keep Chichi happy at the same time. Even walks are iffy. Ma has a five week vacation coming up in a couple of months, so chances are that I'll get out there on my own eventually, screaming kids and all.

So after hanging around my own house and yard this week, I discovered that we have to move. We have a garden in the back yard that I have never tended to so it has become a haven for whatever wants to live in weeds and ground cover. Yesterday Pumpkin was jumping around in there and came out running towards me shouting, "That's a nice snake!" Huh? Snake? I went over to take a peak and saw not one but two snakes slithering away from Pumpkin's footprints. One of them was about two feet long! Maybe this isn't creeping you out the way it creeps me out, but I'm not lovin' sharing my space with things that slither. I think I did the wrong thing and told Pumpkin not to go back into that area because snakes bite. Now she will probably have a phobia, but isn't it useful to be afraid of snakes?

In renovation news, don't take my lack of reporting about it to mean that it isn't happening. After Chichi was born, everyone slowed down since meeting the baby deadline was no longer a concern. The wheels also fell of a little when the plastering was contracted out to hubby's friends instead of someone who does plastering for a living. There were a lot of touch-ups and repairs that are sort of finished. Now the carpenter has done his part, and I will be able to see the light at the end if the electricians show up this week. Get it? Light? Electricians? We are officially in the home-stretch. I don't want to post any photos now as I'm saving myself for the finished product. We're actually going to get to use our family room before 2009!

Hmmmmm, I'm racking my brain for something to post about but when you don't go out or watch anything but the Treehouse channel for a week, the pickings are kinda slim.

Week-End Update

I need to start out by saying that I am not panicking or stressing out. I'm just trying to work out the logistics here. As you may or may not know, I now have two kids. You also may or may not know that my mother has been here to help me out pretty much everyday since the second one came along. Well, my mom had enough nerve to take a two week vacation, and now I am handling the two kids by myself most of the time. So far things are fine, but I'm just trying to get used to my lack of freedom. I can't just dart out the door for a quick errand, or a physio appointment, or a hair appointment, or a pedicure, or a lunch date, or.... I can't find much time to blog either, not that I was finding much before, but now I'm forced to actually do household chores in my free minutes as I never know when the next opportunity will arrive. Overall, I like being spoiled. The real world sucks. I want my mommy back.

I'm not sure if Pumpkin is acting out against Chichi's arrival, or Grandma being away, or if she is just a bonafide brat, but she is sapping my energy. I find that I am uttering threats and issuing time-outs all day long now. She is either disobeying me, or tormenting the dogs, or both, and neither are acceptable. I'm fairly harmless, but the dogs could cause some real damage if they wanted to. I'm so used to reprimanding her that I'm even correcting the behaviour of other people's children, which may or may not be appreciated by the other mothers. Regretfully, I only signed her up for three days a week of school, when five would have been more beneficial for both of us. I feel bad about the type of days that we are having together as she makes me angry, I am being no fun, and Pumpkin is always asking me to smile, which means she isn't enjoying the constant scowl on my face either. I need playdates, people! All applications will be accepted!

In doggie news, we've got another sick one. Taz was acting more lethargic than usual so we ordered him a wellness test. We found that his platelet level was dangerously low, and that there was a wonky reading on one of his liver enzymes. We had to deal with the platelets first as he could have bled to death very easily with such a low level. Next we had to have an ultrasound to figure out what was up with the liver, and it looks like he has some sort of liver disease. We are going to do a biopsy, but it's likely that the drugs from the platelet problem will obscure the biopsy interpretation. This is par for the course for our dogs. So far, we've dealt with optic neuritis, a tumour, pannus, epilepsy, canine athlete's foot, and now the latest episode. I guess you might say that our dogs are survivors, and that they cost lots. I am hopeful that everything will be ok in the end. Keep your paws crossed.

So, it's all fun 'n games over here at casa Mac & Cheese. To leave you on an up-note:

Family Resemblance

My brother, D, came to town for a quick visit to meet his new niece. Upon seeing them together for the first time, I was amazed at the resemblance:

Uncle D seems to think that the two of them look like Zoolander:

I think that they look like a furry little friendly Monchichi:
Since it's my blog, we'll just assume that I am more correct. This brings me to an important announcement: From this post forward, the baby will be known as "Chichi", 'cause it's cuter than any version of the name, "Zoolander" that I can think of.

Life Almost Ended

Pumpkin has an off-white, crochet blanket that is the most important of all her possessions. She sleeps with it, eats with it, travels with it, pees with it, chews it, and drags it around. She calls it her "Geekie". It was made by a good friend of mine. Pumpkin also has a back-up Geekie, which is just a receiving type of blanket that came with a sleeper that she was given as an infant. It's pink with flowers, and for some reason became important to Pumpkin as well. A lot of kids I know have a favourite possession like this, whether it be a stuffed toy or something else. All that really matters is that whatever this possession is, it must never be lost, torn, bent, folded, or mutilated. Imagine then, how life as we know it almost ended last Sunday when we loaded up the car to return home from a day at the pool at my FIL's place. Pumpkin left the Geekies in the car that day as we told Pumpkin that they could not swim, which really meant that I didn't want more crap to carry as I was already too loaded down. Hubby was in charge of strapping Pumpkin into her car seat, and had to move the blankets out of the way to do it. As we were driving home, Pumpkin shrieked, "It's stuck!" I glanced back and took a second to understand what I was looking at. She was holding a corner of the crochet blanket which appeared to be coming out of the ceiling. "Is Geekie on the roof???", I shouted at hubby.
"Uhhhh, yeah", he replied, without enough of a sense of urgency. I pulled over to find that both blankets were out there. The pink one was tangled up in the main one, and it was only by luck that the main one was anchored by the door. All is well now, and I don't want to start a fight over it, so it will have to suffice to embarrass my husband by publishing this story on the World Wide Web, in hopes that enough of our friends read this post and tell him what a doofus he is.

Breastfeeding with an Audience

I'm not writing this post because it is/was World Breastfeeding Week, but my story is quite timely in that sense.

I absolutely HATE HATE HATE breastfeeding in public. I can appreciate that I have the right to breastfeed wherever I want, or so I would like to believe, but the gliding chair in my baby's room with the assistance of a nursing pillow will always be my first choice. I've learned to make peace with the fact that I have to do it in front of my mom since she is usually here, but even that makes me a little uncomfortable. Recently, some inlaws came over for a visit to meet the new baby, so I felt obligated to spend time with them and not hide away in the baby's room when it was time to feed her. I found it stressful, especially since the baby doesn't stay latched for long periods of time. She is always pulling away and re-latching, which certainly leaves me exposed for all to see. Despite knowing that breastfeeding is completely natural and non sexual, I'm still not comfortable letting other people see my boobs. I didn't like my boobs being seen back in the locker room in Jr. high, and I don't like it now. Most people are polite enough not to stare, but there was a ten year old boy in that pack of visiting inlaws who could use a lesson in manners. This past week, I was on the phone with his mother who suggested that I cover up when I feed the baby when her son is around because ever since that visit, he has not stopped talking about my boobs, their size, their colouring, etc. Great. I love that he has created a visual for the rest of my inlaws. Given that this kid was just busted by his parents for surfing adult sites on the net, I can see why my rack got him talking. My guess is that my set scarcely resembles the perky and probably artificial ones that he saw on line. Hey, the porn industry gave me false expectations too. The first penis that I ever saw belonged to a porn star on a movie that I found in my brother's room. The "actor's" name was Raul, and his schlong was the size of Manhattan! Reality catches up to us all eventually, but I don't want to be the one who teaches this little boy what that reality is, especially if he is not mature enough to understand that boobs in this context are not sexual. (my husband will attest to that) Under these circumstances, I am quite happy to cover up, which I was trying to do in the first place, and I don't mind that it was suggested that I do so. The boy's mother may or may not have used the incident as a teaching opportunity, although that isn't my concern. I just learned that on a more recent visit with my inlaws, the same boy peeked around a corner to catch another glimpse of me nursing my daughter, even though I made a point to do it in a separate room. He was silly enough to brag about it to his mother, and consequently got in trouble for it.

In no way am I saying that women should cover up or hide away while breastfeeding. In the words of HBM, "BOOBS ARE NOT DIRTY. BOOBS ARE NOT SHAMEFUL. BOOBS SUSTAIN LIFE. OF BOOBS PUT TO THEIR NATURAL PURPOSE WE SHOULD BE PROUD. OF ALL BOOBS WE SHOULD BE PROUD." Nonetheless, if this boy is going to gossip about my rack to my inlaws, and possibly noodle himself under the covers as he replays the memory, I'm coverin' up, thankyouverymuch.

I've Been Half Assing this Mother Stuff

Since the birth of the new baby, my mom and husband have taken over the majority of my Pumpkin duties. I do look after her and play with her some of the time, but not nearly as much as I used to. Also, her nightly bath has pretty much been taken out of my hands. I hate the whole bath/bed routine, which I have happliy opted out of while I've taken a few moments to myself each evening. However, I have come to realize that as much as I resent being torn away from my limited chances to watch recordings of Canadian Idol and The Two Coreys, bath/bed routines are good bonding opportunities that I've been missing out on. I also came to realize that although it had just been a few weeks, Pumpkin has grown, and I've missed it. Upon giving her the a bath for the first time since the baby came along, I noticed that she was larger. I know that after caring for a newborn, a pre-schooler can appear enormous, but she really has grown. Not only that, but her hair has gotten thicker. These are things that should stand out to someone who hasn't seen her in a while, but I shouldn't really be noticing them so easily as I am with her everyday.

A friend of mine once told me a story that I was certain was an exaggeration, so I dismissed it at the time. After he and his wife had their second child, they agreed that the wife would be primarily in charge of the baby, and he would look after the older child. After many months had passed, he was then given the task of watching the baby for whatever reason, and he realized at that time that he didn't know anything about his second child. I think I understand how he might have felt that way. Since our second child arrived, I have been in the privileged situation of having an extra pair of hands to help me. My mom has been here almost every day since the baby was born, primarily looking after Pumpkin. Many mothers of young children would kill for that kind of free help, and I know that none of you are playing violins for me, but there is a downside. As mentioned earlier, I missed a stage of growth. I don't want to miss stages. I can see myself not knowing all that I should know about Pumpkin if I allow myself the luxury of not having to ever wipe her butt or force-feed her . It is great to be able to give the new baby the kind of attention that I gave Pumpkin when she was an infant, but I need to ensure that I get some quality Pumpkin time too. I know that I have to make a better effor than I've been putting forth lately. That being said, you can continue to give her some of her baths mom. I still need my reality TV time too.