I was dropping Cole off at daycare this morning.
As I lifted him out of his car seat, he said, "Castles don't have doorbells, Mommy."
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
A big box of trucks
Our play area has evolved such that we have one huge box filled and stacked with trucks, each piled precariously on the ones beneath.
Last night, while I was cleaning up in the kitchen after supper, I heard a crash and thud and then Amelia was crying. Then Cole called urgently, "DADDY, Help me build a cat house!"
Mark calmly replied, "Well, Cole. Yes, I'll help you but right now I have to help Amelia. A truck fell on her head."
Cole replied, "What kind of truck was it?"
Last night, while I was cleaning up in the kitchen after supper, I heard a crash and thud and then Amelia was crying. Then Cole called urgently, "DADDY, Help me build a cat house!"
Mark calmly replied, "Well, Cole. Yes, I'll help you but right now I have to help Amelia. A truck fell on her head."
Cole replied, "What kind of truck was it?"
Friday, February 24, 2012
Baby Weight Blues
In my experience, it isn't actually having a baby that makes a momma feel a little portlier than in her past. Because after breast-feeding for a few weeks, the pregnancy pounds really do melt off.
But I'm back up to the weight I was while in my third trimester with Amelia (well, maybe second) and I can't really blame it on her. I blame it on fatigue and boredom and my compulsion to feed those things with comfort food. (Also allowing myself to wear nothing but sweatpants doesn't help). Like my pick-me-up of choice, the seemingly benign cafe mocha. How many mornings have I rolled my aching and exhausted body out of bed after a sleepless night motivated by the promise to myself of a sugar-coated caffeine kick at Starbucks? Lots and lots.
Also, when I'm home and finding it tough to get out of the house, I like to bake. I bake banana bread and chocolate chip muffins and lemon meringue pie. I bake pumpkin bread and muffins too and experiment with adding sweet potato and chickpeas to things to make them healthier and I tell myself it's all good. But combine all those goodies with a difficulty getting myself back into exercising and it starts to add up.
Last weekend, I went to the gym. I planned to go to an exercise class. Something I used to do religiously. In fact, one birthday, I remember making time for my step class as always because it was so much fun that I considered it part of my ideal way to spend a birthday! Anyway, this weekend when I got there, I bailed on the class. I think I was nervous. I was nervous about being so out of shape. So I got on the treadmill instead. And instead of running, I made an excuse in my mind and walked (on an incline) for not even a half hour. And I left the gym, not refreshed, but mad at myself. On the drive home, I rehearsed in my head how I would complain to Mark about how I'm just too fat to run now and I'll have to do other things. Maybe those running days are behind me. But I knew he wouldn't buy it. He'd challenge my excuses. And I knew that he'd be right to.
So when I got home, instead of saying I'd given up on running. I surprised myself. I sat down at my computer and logged onto the running room's website. I looked up a list of races next August and found one in my home town of Owen Sound.
I took a few days to work up the nerve, but I was spurred on by my long-time running buddy, Nej, who promised to register if I would.
So yesterday, I lit a fire under my arse and I signed up for the Bayshore Owen Sound Half Marathon. I can't even run 2k without needing a walking break. But I am going to take it on faith that doing this will push me to train. After all, who wants to make a fool of themselves by passing out in a ditch at kilometre 10?! And I encourage you all to consider registering too. If for no other reason than it's a beautiful region and a small race. In fact, when I registered yesterday, I was the only registrant. Shortly thereafter, Nej, true to her word, joined me on the confirmed registrant list.
As deep as our friendship runs, Nej did say in all honesty that when the finish line comes in sight, if we're the only two, she's gonna fight me for it. 'Cause she's never come in first before. I'll settle for second to you, Nej! Thanks for helping me get back on the horse!
(This was the 2006 Mississauga Half Marathon - look how happy I seemed to be running 21 kilometres!)
But I'm back up to the weight I was while in my third trimester with Amelia (well, maybe second) and I can't really blame it on her. I blame it on fatigue and boredom and my compulsion to feed those things with comfort food. (Also allowing myself to wear nothing but sweatpants doesn't help). Like my pick-me-up of choice, the seemingly benign cafe mocha. How many mornings have I rolled my aching and exhausted body out of bed after a sleepless night motivated by the promise to myself of a sugar-coated caffeine kick at Starbucks? Lots and lots.
Also, when I'm home and finding it tough to get out of the house, I like to bake. I bake banana bread and chocolate chip muffins and lemon meringue pie. I bake pumpkin bread and muffins too and experiment with adding sweet potato and chickpeas to things to make them healthier and I tell myself it's all good. But combine all those goodies with a difficulty getting myself back into exercising and it starts to add up.
Last weekend, I went to the gym. I planned to go to an exercise class. Something I used to do religiously. In fact, one birthday, I remember making time for my step class as always because it was so much fun that I considered it part of my ideal way to spend a birthday! Anyway, this weekend when I got there, I bailed on the class. I think I was nervous. I was nervous about being so out of shape. So I got on the treadmill instead. And instead of running, I made an excuse in my mind and walked (on an incline) for not even a half hour. And I left the gym, not refreshed, but mad at myself. On the drive home, I rehearsed in my head how I would complain to Mark about how I'm just too fat to run now and I'll have to do other things. Maybe those running days are behind me. But I knew he wouldn't buy it. He'd challenge my excuses. And I knew that he'd be right to.
So when I got home, instead of saying I'd given up on running. I surprised myself. I sat down at my computer and logged onto the running room's website. I looked up a list of races next August and found one in my home town of Owen Sound.
I took a few days to work up the nerve, but I was spurred on by my long-time running buddy, Nej, who promised to register if I would.
So yesterday, I lit a fire under my arse and I signed up for the Bayshore Owen Sound Half Marathon. I can't even run 2k without needing a walking break. But I am going to take it on faith that doing this will push me to train. After all, who wants to make a fool of themselves by passing out in a ditch at kilometre 10?! And I encourage you all to consider registering too. If for no other reason than it's a beautiful region and a small race. In fact, when I registered yesterday, I was the only registrant. Shortly thereafter, Nej, true to her word, joined me on the confirmed registrant list.
As deep as our friendship runs, Nej did say in all honesty that when the finish line comes in sight, if we're the only two, she's gonna fight me for it. 'Cause she's never come in first before. I'll settle for second to you, Nej! Thanks for helping me get back on the horse!
Small Style Co-blog
My BFF Kate, from Ottawa, was visiting her family in Hamilton and she visited us too. It's Thursday and she honoured us by including us in her regular Thursday post of small style.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Most This Amazing Day
What an amazing gift of a day it has been!
Not only does it feel like springtime in February, but the sun is shining and there's a female cardinal in the hibiscus outside my kitchen window. After weeks and weeks and WEEKS of no birds at my bird feeder, they've finally found it again.
My leek seedlings are thriving on the baby's dresser. The cilantro and basil seeds I hid in the spider plant pot in the kitchen have finally risen just when I'd lost hope that they would.
Yesterday, Cole had croup. Scary croup. The kind that struggles for breath in the night and leaves teensy pin-prick-sized red dots on his face from the effort of coughing. Amelia is teething. Maybe. Anyway, she was on a sleep strike.
But this morning, after struggling with the baby from 5am til 6am, I got to return to bed and the land of Nod until 8am.
Later, we piled into the car and drove to the lakeside park. On the way there, Cole pointed out the window at Lake Ontario and exclaimed, "I SEE CLOUDS!" When Mark said, "Yes, I see them too," Cole stated matter-of-factly, "So THAT's where the clouds lives!"
Parking was free downtown 'cause it's a holiday. At Spencer Smith Park, there were kids everywhere. The outdoor skating rink was alive with families and the air smelled like french fries. On the walk from the car to the park, we lost a soother and a mitten. And on the way home we found both.
We built an airplane in the living room using the pillows from the couch.
I went outside and stood hopefully dreaming about the garden. Then I took Amelia for a walk and she kept kicking her boots off. When I came home and complained to Mark about it, Cole said, "That's because gravity was following you and that's why Amelia's boots kept falling off!"
And Mark bought us hot drinks from Tim Hortons and I realized it's Roll up the Rim season! We didn't win. (Who really wins anything anyway!) But it sure is fun.
Thank you for "most this amazing day"!
Not only does it feel like springtime in February, but the sun is shining and there's a female cardinal in the hibiscus outside my kitchen window. After weeks and weeks and WEEKS of no birds at my bird feeder, they've finally found it again.
My leek seedlings are thriving on the baby's dresser. The cilantro and basil seeds I hid in the spider plant pot in the kitchen have finally risen just when I'd lost hope that they would.
Yesterday, Cole had croup. Scary croup. The kind that struggles for breath in the night and leaves teensy pin-prick-sized red dots on his face from the effort of coughing. Amelia is teething. Maybe. Anyway, she was on a sleep strike.
But this morning, after struggling with the baby from 5am til 6am, I got to return to bed and the land of Nod until 8am.
Later, we piled into the car and drove to the lakeside park. On the way there, Cole pointed out the window at Lake Ontario and exclaimed, "I SEE CLOUDS!" When Mark said, "Yes, I see them too," Cole stated matter-of-factly, "So THAT's where the clouds lives!"
Parking was free downtown 'cause it's a holiday. At Spencer Smith Park, there were kids everywhere. The outdoor skating rink was alive with families and the air smelled like french fries. On the walk from the car to the park, we lost a soother and a mitten. And on the way home we found both.
We built an airplane in the living room using the pillows from the couch.
I went outside and stood hopefully dreaming about the garden. Then I took Amelia for a walk and she kept kicking her boots off. When I came home and complained to Mark about it, Cole said, "That's because gravity was following you and that's why Amelia's boots kept falling off!"
And Mark bought us hot drinks from Tim Hortons and I realized it's Roll up the Rim season! We didn't win. (Who really wins anything anyway!) But it sure is fun.
Thank you for "most this amazing day"!
Father/Daughter Dynamic
This morning, my husband informed me that Amelia will shake her head "no" for him. I couldn't believe it! She hadn't done this for me.
To demonstrate, Mark said "Amelia, YES!" and he nodded at her.
She looked at him then shook her head "no".
To demonstrate, Mark said "Amelia, YES!" and he nodded at her.
She looked at him then shook her head "no".
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Throwing the ____ in with the laundry water...
This morning, while Mark was showering, I watched the news in bed while giving Amelia her bottle. She craned her neck to look up at me as I took a drink of water from a colourful cup. Then she coughed one of those deep loosen-everything-up kind of morning coughs and spit up on her pajamas. And my night shirt. And the sheets and blanket.
No problem. Cole was a puker. I know the drill.
I grabbed top item from the pile of laundry in the hamper and wiped her face and her PJs and then set her down on the carpet. I then quickly ripped the sheets, mattress cover and blankets from the bed, balled them up into a big tangle of laundry and set them at the top of the stairs to remind me to toss them into the wash later.
I changed Amelia. Then had a shower when Mark got out. As I was getting dressed, he said he'd toss the sheets and blanket into the laundry on his way down to his office.
It wasn't until I was negotiating with Cole, some morning t.v. against getting dressed for the day, that I realized the remote for the t.v. wasn't in the bedroom.
Oops.
No problem. Cole was a puker. I know the drill.
I grabbed top item from the pile of laundry in the hamper and wiped her face and her PJs and then set her down on the carpet. I then quickly ripped the sheets, mattress cover and blankets from the bed, balled them up into a big tangle of laundry and set them at the top of the stairs to remind me to toss them into the wash later.
I changed Amelia. Then had a shower when Mark got out. As I was getting dressed, he said he'd toss the sheets and blanket into the laundry on his way down to his office.
It wasn't until I was negotiating with Cole, some morning t.v. against getting dressed for the day, that I realized the remote for the t.v. wasn't in the bedroom.
Oops.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
The Best Moment
I am going to go out on a limb here and say that unless you've had cancer or something as scary, you might not be able to feel a moment as incredible as the one I had today.
Two weeks ago, I heard that my cancer might have returned. And I now know how it's treated and what that would entail. I knew about the surgery and the iodine-free diet (no dairy, no seafood, no salt, no red dye, no soy, no eggs....) and the radioactive iodine treatment and then quarantine from family and friends. I remembered the first time I'd been diagnosed with cancer. I was side-swiped. I was completely floored. A positive biopsy test hadn't even crossed my mind. I had always assumed I'd be fine and then WHAMMO, my whole world changed. I had to suddenly stare my own mortality in the face. Worse than going through all the treatment again, worse than seeing the sadness and fear on my husband's face and my father's face, was the idea that I'd be side-swiped again. So when I heard last Tuesday about the tests I'd be going through, I prepared myself for the worst.
I made a bucket list. I began to try to figure out how I'd recover from surgery and return to work in the spring. I wondered if I should hold off planning my daughter's first birthday party until the rest of the details sorted themselves out. I was intermittently gripped with panic in the dark hours of night. Mark held my hand a lot and kissed my tears. I tried to imagine how I'd explain to Cole that I was sick even if I didn't look or feel sick. I wondered if I'd meet my grandkids.
Also, I saw sunshine like never before. I enjoyed the bubbles in the dish water. I let Amelia sleep on my chest without resentment that I couldn't get up and do something productive. I got larynigitis and just thanked god it wasn't something worse.
Then today, the receptionist called from the doctor's office and told me the good news. That the blood work showed no recurrence of the cancer. And my heart sang. And I think I said, "Oh thank f_______in god!" And in that moment I felt like I was given everything back. I'm sure it sounds dramatic. But every instant after that moment diminishes that feeling and in every minute that ticks by I will, like all humans, start to take everything for granted again, even if I try not to. But in that moment, I was just so thankful to have it all back. My future. My son's wedding. My daughter giving birth to her first child. Old and gray days with my husband. I can dream that big again because of that moment. Thank the Lord!
Two weeks ago, I heard that my cancer might have returned. And I now know how it's treated and what that would entail. I knew about the surgery and the iodine-free diet (no dairy, no seafood, no salt, no red dye, no soy, no eggs....) and the radioactive iodine treatment and then quarantine from family and friends. I remembered the first time I'd been diagnosed with cancer. I was side-swiped. I was completely floored. A positive biopsy test hadn't even crossed my mind. I had always assumed I'd be fine and then WHAMMO, my whole world changed. I had to suddenly stare my own mortality in the face. Worse than going through all the treatment again, worse than seeing the sadness and fear on my husband's face and my father's face, was the idea that I'd be side-swiped again. So when I heard last Tuesday about the tests I'd be going through, I prepared myself for the worst.
I made a bucket list. I began to try to figure out how I'd recover from surgery and return to work in the spring. I wondered if I should hold off planning my daughter's first birthday party until the rest of the details sorted themselves out. I was intermittently gripped with panic in the dark hours of night. Mark held my hand a lot and kissed my tears. I tried to imagine how I'd explain to Cole that I was sick even if I didn't look or feel sick. I wondered if I'd meet my grandkids.
Also, I saw sunshine like never before. I enjoyed the bubbles in the dish water. I let Amelia sleep on my chest without resentment that I couldn't get up and do something productive. I got larynigitis and just thanked god it wasn't something worse.
Then today, the receptionist called from the doctor's office and told me the good news. That the blood work showed no recurrence of the cancer. And my heart sang. And I think I said, "Oh thank f_______in god!" And in that moment I felt like I was given everything back. I'm sure it sounds dramatic. But every instant after that moment diminishes that feeling and in every minute that ticks by I will, like all humans, start to take everything for granted again, even if I try not to. But in that moment, I was just so thankful to have it all back. My future. My son's wedding. My daughter giving birth to her first child. Old and gray days with my husband. I can dream that big again because of that moment. Thank the Lord!
Peter Pan and the Packers
Over two years ago, I was out on one of my multiple walks of the day with Cole when we met a little blonde-haired girl and her pregnant mother playing in their front yard. We got to talking and a new friendship was born. Not just between Cole and his best friend, Ana, but between our families. And as the families have each grown larger, we've grown together.
We've exchanged birthday presents. We've exchanged muffins and cakes and cookies. We've thrown impromptu barbecues for each other. When their oven doesn't work and they make cookies forgetting it doesn't work, they know they can run over and use ours. When we needed to know someone reliable was just a phone call away in a pinch to look after Cole if I went into labour, they seemed like the most natural choice. When registering our kids for kindergarten, they went on our list of emergency contacts. And we went on theirs. When we have extra spinach and peas in our garden, we leave them on their front stoop. We walk to the park together. We walk to the ice cream store together. We play in the pool together. We sandbox together. We've transported our kids in a mish-mash pack of single strollers, double strollers, jogging strollers, wagon rides, bike rides, walks and baby bjorns. We've hobbled together as pregnant ladies and we've walked dozily as sleep-deprived parents of newborns. Sometimes on an early summer Sunday morning, they'll show up on our door step still in their pj's. It's a fantastic and fun friendship we have with the Packers.
And as our friendship grows, it has become increasingly obvious that our lifestyles are different. Mark and I have a quiet routine-driven life with the kids, punctuated by concerts or dinners out or family visits. But generally we tuck in early at night and enjoy simple pleasures like walking to the book store on a Saturday morning. The Packers are a bit more like the red race car to our mini van. Their schedule is a lot busier than ours - filled with family dinners, parties, activities for the kids, and entertaining their friends. And they love it. They celebrate every day. Work hard and play hard. That's them.
When we are making excuses about not going to the Santa Claus parade or fireworks or the movies because of the kid's nap schedules, they are packing their kids into the car anyway. They were baking Valentine's cookies long after our kids had gone to bed last night, long after we would have just thrown in the towel, so they could decorate them and package them into cute little pink boxes and give them out today.
Last night, Ryan told me about their latest adventure. He was saying how Ana is in love with Peter Pan. She's said she doesn't want to grow up and Ryan has told her all about Never Never Land and Peter Pan and she's totally swooning at the idea that he might visit her at night in her dreams. They even wrote a note for Peter Pan, put it into a balloon and had it filled with helium at the Dollar Store, so they can release it into the air and it can fly up, up, up and away to Never Never Land. They're not yet sure how Peter Pan will send his return message, but it's never a dull moment with the Packers. Any day can be a dance party. Any day can be a trip to Never Never Land.
We've exchanged birthday presents. We've exchanged muffins and cakes and cookies. We've thrown impromptu barbecues for each other. When their oven doesn't work and they make cookies forgetting it doesn't work, they know they can run over and use ours. When we needed to know someone reliable was just a phone call away in a pinch to look after Cole if I went into labour, they seemed like the most natural choice. When registering our kids for kindergarten, they went on our list of emergency contacts. And we went on theirs. When we have extra spinach and peas in our garden, we leave them on their front stoop. We walk to the park together. We walk to the ice cream store together. We play in the pool together. We sandbox together. We've transported our kids in a mish-mash pack of single strollers, double strollers, jogging strollers, wagon rides, bike rides, walks and baby bjorns. We've hobbled together as pregnant ladies and we've walked dozily as sleep-deprived parents of newborns. Sometimes on an early summer Sunday morning, they'll show up on our door step still in their pj's. It's a fantastic and fun friendship we have with the Packers.
And as our friendship grows, it has become increasingly obvious that our lifestyles are different. Mark and I have a quiet routine-driven life with the kids, punctuated by concerts or dinners out or family visits. But generally we tuck in early at night and enjoy simple pleasures like walking to the book store on a Saturday morning. The Packers are a bit more like the red race car to our mini van. Their schedule is a lot busier than ours - filled with family dinners, parties, activities for the kids, and entertaining their friends. And they love it. They celebrate every day. Work hard and play hard. That's them.
When we are making excuses about not going to the Santa Claus parade or fireworks or the movies because of the kid's nap schedules, they are packing their kids into the car anyway. They were baking Valentine's cookies long after our kids had gone to bed last night, long after we would have just thrown in the towel, so they could decorate them and package them into cute little pink boxes and give them out today.
Last night, Ryan told me about their latest adventure. He was saying how Ana is in love with Peter Pan. She's said she doesn't want to grow up and Ryan has told her all about Never Never Land and Peter Pan and she's totally swooning at the idea that he might visit her at night in her dreams. They even wrote a note for Peter Pan, put it into a balloon and had it filled with helium at the Dollar Store, so they can release it into the air and it can fly up, up, up and away to Never Never Land. They're not yet sure how Peter Pan will send his return message, but it's never a dull moment with the Packers. Any day can be a dance party. Any day can be a trip to Never Never Land.
Thursday, February 09, 2012
Adventures in Underwear
On Tuesday, when I arrived to drop Cole off at daycare, I saw a tied plastic bag on his hook. This meant that Cole had had an accident on the Thursday before and I had either overlooked this little bag or it hadn't been there. Either way, I shuddered to think of the smell that would greet me when I opened it up.
Regardless, I took the bag home and dumped it into the laundry. And when I finally got around to the laundry yesterday, in went the colourful briefs.
What is worse than being too cheap to throw out the soiled underwear that sat for five days before they got washed? Setting out to fold the clean and dry laundry this morning and discovering that those briefs don't belong to Cole!
Regardless, I took the bag home and dumped it into the laundry. And when I finally got around to the laundry yesterday, in went the colourful briefs.
What is worse than being too cheap to throw out the soiled underwear that sat for five days before they got washed? Setting out to fold the clean and dry laundry this morning and discovering that those briefs don't belong to Cole!
Tuesday, February 07, 2012
Goderich
Including Cole and Amelia, there were five kids ages 5 and under, so if it looks in these pictures like I'm chasing a moving target, that's because I am.
Ella and Kate
Kate riding a tractor
Mark reading to Kate. Amelia taking a glance in passing. Jake climbing on the chair.
Our beautiful goddaughter Ella
Since arriving home, Cole hasn't stopped asking when we can go back to Goderich.
Monday, February 06, 2012
Late January and Early February 2012
Amelia enjoying some spaghetti
Cole learning to type his name
Out for dim sum to celebrate the New Year and he's eating Cheerios
He actually said, "This is SO much fun!"
Learning to unload the dishwasher
Grandma took him to the movies to see Alvin and the Chipmunks
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