I am officially a parent

I carried him in my womb for 10 and a half months, watched him squiggle around on the 3D ultrasound video. I carried him on the outside, in one baby carrier or another, for over 12 months, close to 18 I would estimate, though the carrying weaning day isn't a significant one in my head or my journals.

I kept him warm and fed, mama milk for the first year and a half, slowly introducing all the yummies that we produce and create starting at 6 months.

We cuddled, we laughed, we cried, we yelled, we loved without words.

His brother spent 10 glorious months inside my womb. He was born and admired, or ignored, by his brother. His sole food consumption is through me and my mama milk.

I changed their stinky diapers, trained one to go in the toilet, which the other will be following suit in a few years. I kissed ouchies, I wiped their bloody wounds and poopy bums.

All of these events are symbolic of motherhood, or parenthood. Yet it was only a couple of days ago that I truly felt my role as mother envelope me. With two short sentences under two separate situations I finally truly felt like the name Mama, which has been echoing in my head for years now, has finally taken on a true and comfortable ring to it.

These two sentences were spoken ever so clearly and lightly by my amazing first born son. First sentence 'I love you Mama'. I don't know if you heard that, it was the sound of my heart expanding and than bursting into a million little gooey pieces. The feeling that embraced me at that moment.................whew, amazing.

The second sentence 'I'm mad at you Mama'. Fantastic! Hilarious!! I never did get to the bottom of that anger, but man was it amusing to hear that little innocent voice state those words! It wasn't quite the pinnacle 'I hate you Mama' but it was definitely a defining moment.

And so here I am, officially a Mama!

Toothy

I have been examining the inside of this little ones mouth for at least a week now. He has been exuding all the tell tale signs, drool, random acts of general unhappiness to outright outrage, and knawing obsessively and agressively at most things that enter into his mouth. Excepting my boobs (thank the sweet lord for that one!)

It seems impossible to me, a cruel joke for the poor wee man, and for his poor breast feeding mama. Though come to think of it, I nursed Rohan until he was one and a half and escaped unscathed.

I have shown the little white, almost protruding, markings on his gums to several professional moms (in my eyes all moms are pro's!) and so far 9 out of 10 dentists agree, my baby is already spouting his first tooth, or at the very least showing definite signs that the tooth is available to pop out at anytime.

I remember from my first teething experience, that although you may see the very top of the tooth threatening to pop through the gums, it can trick you by popping through and sneaking back in over and over again. This can last months. The pain and agony of attempting to push a tooth through a fresh unscathed gum can last for MONTHS. Poor little bambino, poor little mama!

BAM

Babies are truly incredible. It is like watching a sudden awakening. They go from an adorable little lump of flesh that cries and and poops and eats, and when it is not doing any of those three it sleeps and sleeps some more with very little, if any, awake time. No awareness lights their eyes, they are blank and fuzzy (not to say there isn't a whole lot going on in there, but there ain't much happening outta there) and overall sleepy and uninterested.

Than BAM they start gaining more vision and an actual personality. You are constantly looking lovingly into their big indistinctly coloured eyes exhuding massive quantities of love and awe their way with very little in the way of response (unless you count projectile vomit as communication). Then one day, while offering your daily dose of goo goo gaa gaaing to your little tiny fleshy poop machine the little guy offers you the biggest toothless grin you can imagine. And than BAM he bcomes a person all of the sudden.

It feels as if you have been waiting for this moment for YEARS, and yet it seems incredible that it is happening so soon.

The time leading up to this all I could think about *warning, honest moment here* was how desperately I wanted sleep and why on earth I decided that I wanted to put myself throught this torture again? My brain kept repeating 'never again, never again'. Keeping in mind that there was no reward for the hours I put in to keep this kid fed and clothed, Nothing but a million diapers so overflowing with poop and pee that they would almost always leak into the sleeper. Laundry coming out of my yahoo, blah so tired, no sleep.

Then, out he emerges from his hazy existence, and all of the sudden I would do this again in a heartbeat. I am blinded to the sleeplessness, I regard the massive loads of mustard seeping out of the diapers as adorable and often worry if I hadn't seen some in while. I wait in earger anticipation, not for him to fall asleep, but to wake up so I can make him smile and gurgle at me. I have developed an empathy toward his occasional (har har) difficulty falling alseep 'poor baby must be gasey, let mama help you little one' wiping away my bitterness and resentment and pure anger at keeping me up (hey man, I am a bundle of hormones here, I am almost filled with unhealthy emotions twenty four hours a day....................stupid hormones.)

I feel as if this person comes out just in the nic of time. That my dears may very well be part of the nature of survival........................quick kid, look cute or you may not make it through another night!

Cafemadness

What a ridiculous day! I had the grandest of intentions today. It started off pretty good, I dropped the big man and the big boy off at his is friends house and me and the wee man took a walk through town to buy some odds and ends. So far so good, everyone is happy, it is freezing out mind you, but wee man is toasy woasty in my Kangamama pouch under my sweater and jacket.

I love walking. I feel denied all this glorious walking when I have to keep my pace slow and often completely halted when walking with the big boy. That added to the fact that it is freezing cold and at home there isn't much walking to be had unless I drive to a place to walk. Needless to say, I don't get out much! I feel icky if I am stuck inside with no exersize, which has very much been the case over the last two months, blah.

So this beautiful novelty of walking with my baby strapped to me was very great. I finished my odds and bobs shopping, grabbed the car seat and the lap top and headed to the local cafe to have some quality facebook time. I ordered a sammy and a coffee and sat in a booth with eager anticipation filling my entire being. Yippy! Man it feels so longs since I have wasted a few hours on the computer!

Well this magical outing sucked. I sat down and tried fruitlessly to get online. Something was going horribly awry and I couldn't fix it. The staff couldn't help. Baby woke up, hungry, of course, and started fussing. A girl came over to help. Bambino started getting very very angry. Girl would not go away so I could nurse, baby is screaming. The whole cafe is looking at me, mostly with sympathy as there was a huge excess of older women. Baby screaming, girl goes, try to nurse, baby is too inconsolable to feed, stays screaming.

At this point I give up on a nice peaceful cafe experience and start packing up my stuff like a mad woman, sweat dripping off my brow as I layer back on our winter gear. A young guy comes to try to help with the computer while a regular cafe goer comes to gush over the baby and be just over all annoying and in the way. Battery on computer dies, I eyeball the exits like a caged animal. We are finally dressed, the laptop is packed in its case and I bee line it to the back door. I try to juggle the car seat, the baby carrier and the lap top while trying to open the door, laptop falls, cursing I pick it back up and finally maneuver my way out to the winter wonderland. Baby carrier falls into the slush, my back starts breaking with the weight of the ridiculously heavy car seat, god those things are freaking heavy.

I made it back to the car and managed to make it through the rest of the day fairly unscathed, but holy crap that was a intensely traumatic outing. Whew, glad I only had one with me at the time!

Outlaws

I am a very very nosey person. I am not ashamed to admit this. This is especially true when I accidentally, and then intentionally, overhear people talking about me. This is especially especially true when I hear people who I am pretty sure barely tolerate my presence talking frank to each other about what they think about me.

I always have this quiet curiosity about how people actually view me. On a good day, I can see the positive intentions for the way that I act/react, on a bad day I would do anything I can to climb out of my brain/body and rid myself of myself. With that in mind I would love to know if people can see through whatever facade that I may have to put up in order to block one of my bad feeling days or if they take me at face value.

In this case, these two individuals were already barely tolerating me, so needless to say the words were stinging. I want to explain here that I am the only one that recognizes that these two (a very generous couple mind you, filled with the best of intentions) are masters at hiding their contempt for me. Okay not me so much as the fact that I am their *insert relationship here*. They have not been very fond of the relationship that I have acquired that brings me to their attention lets just say.

Moving on to the conversation that I (un)intentionally overheard. The first of the two was overheard commenting on my controlling manner in a very contemptuous way. The instant I heard those words leave this persons lips I acknowledged that this was true. I did a quick run through of separate situations that I was a part of over the last week, and yes, it seems that I was indeed incredibly controlling. I don't want to be a controlling person, I didn't start my life out of the womb gradually acquiring the skills to boss people around (though my mother and little brother may very well argue against this admission). Nevertheless I am bossy and controlling. Damn. I also look back to see which situations drew the controllingness out of me. Any situation that regarded the well being, discipline, or the comfort of either of my children immediate inures a very controlling manner on my part. This is how I parent, please don't try to go over me and parent your way. Not cool. Not acceptable. No two parents are the same, no two parents parent the same. Please please please accept that idea and let me do what I need to do for my children with out arguing with me (or us in a few cases) because these are my (our) children and they don't need to hear it from any more adults than us.

I am also controlling in situations that do not have anything to do with the kids. Yup I like to control my environment. I see it. I may not change it. I am a virgo, you just can't change nature right? A good excuse? Good enough for me I say!

So that was fine, kind of cutting, but not untrue. It was the next person who was attempting to justify my behavour by analyzing my childhood. Such as 'her father died, she is just trying to hold onto blah blah blah her mother blah blah blah, she lacked control in blah blah blah she is just trying to regain it by blah blah blah'. My skin crawls and my blood boils just thinking about them discussing my life as if they were an expert on a past they were not a part of, nor do they know much about, just little snippets that I have revealed to them. I think one of my major pet peeves is the blaming of parents for the way their chlidren are. I have to agree that if the parents are any of the following: alcoholic, drug addict, abusive, neglectful, absent or just down right mean, that they are to blame (partially) for creating an anger and or bitterness in their children. However, blaming their parenting skill outright, nope, don't like it at all.

I am also a believer (though not necessarily a follow througher, which is another issue I deal with in my personality) that we are born into our families, to our parents, in order to learn whatever it is we need to learn, to be the best person we can be. This means that you may be born in a shitty situation so that you are able to find the strength and courage to rise above said situation and to pay forward the knowledge that you gained from it. It may be as simple as becoming a damn good councilor or as big as bringing peace to a nation of unrest. On the flip side, people may be born into a pretty good situation which will have it's own lessons, such as learning to be humble etc etc etc.

Anywo, I now feel kind of alienated and out of place in this specific situation that I have put myself into (damn me and my stupid traveling ideas) and I am not too sure how to go about changing that feeling and making myself more welcome. In all honesty my natural instinct is to run run run as fast as I can out of here and not look back. That is not an option so I may finally have to suck it up and face a very much unwanted confrontation. Barf. Not my favourite thing in the world that is for sure!

Privawhat?

Now what is that word again? Pro.....Pra.....Pri..vic....va...ci...cy?? Oh yes, Privacy, that's it! This is something that has not been in my vocabulary in so long that I forget how to pronounce the bloody thing! Only on the earlest of mornings, when both children are sleeping, and I sneak out of bed without a sound, am I able to go to the bathroom by myself.

For the last (nearly) three years I have had to take my darling, loving, affectionate son with me to go to the bathroom. On the (very) odd ocassion I could leave him in one spot and run to take a super quick pee, number 2 however? Nope, he would not tolerate that much time alone not being held by his number one mum. At first I had to haul him over my shoulder in order to somehow manhandle my pants etc with one hand over my legs, hip and arse.

Then he got older. He start to be able to move. I couldn't leave him out there on his own, he might get into mischief or hurt himself. So in he went with me, sitting contentfully on his mama's lap while she sat not contentfully on the can.

And then he could really move and he would see me trying to sneak away to the bathroom and he would hystericcally run after me as if I was intending to leave him for good. And up he would go back onto my lap contentfully.

And then he got a bit older. I would always leave the door open so he knew where I was. And in he would come. Not crying or upset, just curious. And with his newly acquired words he would discuss with me what mama was doing on the toilet. 'Mama poop' he would say with joy lighting up his eyes, 'stinky', good lord.

And then he got even older and so was born his little brother. I had to bring him in the bathroom with me so as not to leave him with his little, fragile, unsuspecting brother who very well may have sufficated from all the love and affection that would have been rained on him.

And now I have the new little one, who is not content to sit and giggle in his bouncy chair in the livingroom while I sneak away for some private bathroom time. Nope, he would prefer to join me on my journey of excretion. And so the cycle continues and mama is still searching for that lost word in her vocabulary...................

sleepy

My mornings have gradually gotten earlier and earlier and my nights later and later. Sleep....................yes, I think I remember what that was like, sort of .

Our dear youngest has started the in the evening crying and general fussiness. This is now lasting anywhere from 30 minutes to several hours. I am absolutely okay with him being awake, but he is awake in such an unrest, so miserable. Damn, this is a very very familiar scenario. oh yes and the near impossibility to put the little guy in his bassinette, slowly slowly ..............ever so carefully...........lowering...........damn, too hard. Oop he is still sleeping good..................now very very gently removing hands from under him.................bam, eyes open as if he had been awake the whole time. crap. Here we go again!

There has even been an occasion that Colin has come home to see me sleeping in the bed in a sitting position with the baby sleeping on my chest. Yup, done that before!

Now that my nights are becoming later than my ever loved 830pm bed time I would have hoped for a nice long sleep in, like 8 or 9am (let's insert here that I am not sleeping the whole time, I am waking several times in the night.........those infants, man!). Yumm sleeping in, remember that feeling? Nope, me either! Actually that is a lie, when we were at home the big man woke up with Ro-Dog and let me and the baby sleep in, ah yes, those were the days!

Here we are at the in laws house back in our home town and now the wee ones schedule is outta whack. Crap. Now he wakes up at 5ish for some early morning playtime/fussy/angy time. And, to tell you the truth, I secretly enjoy that time of morning. Nobody is awake, just me and the baby, I make myself a coffee and do whatever I can on the computer that doesn't require internet connection..............oh how I miss those hours wasted on the internet! 5 in the morning is so quiet and peaceful, I get to get used to being awake before I have to face anyone. The bambino and I get some quiet alone bonding time, a big novelty with the second.

So far, my lack of sleep ain't so bad, aside from my midday insanity, yelling, cursing, crying, throwing things, you know, general overtiredness!! But other than that, I think I can handle it for now.................but sleep training will be in the near future little one, so get ready.....................

many more to come

Suffering from the 'not online' blues. Have many blog posts in the works......................as ole Jian would say 'to be continued'

little penis

I just need to write this in because it may be the funniest conversation I have had with Rohan to date.

Rohan is sitting on the potty at Grandma's in her living room taking a poop. Because it isn't really made for Rohans 'extra' appendage, we always make him tuck so as not to urinate on his pants, thus defeating the pee pee in the potty in the first place.

So there he is tucking his penis, which gave him the idea to talk about his penis.

Rohan: Mama, no penis

Mama: That's right Rohan, mama doesn't have a penis, does Avery have one?

Rohan: Little penis.....awwww

Mama: What about Rohan

Rohan: Woah, big penis, woah!

Mama: And what about daddy?

Rohan: Woah woah woah, BIG PENIS, Woah, LONG

Mama: Laughs hysterically

Chugginton, chugga chugga chugga chugginton

Why oh why are kids shows so...................dumb? I don't mean dumb as in dumbed down so that the little people can understand them, but just straight up, eyes glazing over, watching picture, blocking out sound, pure silliness.

There are some kids shows on right now that are so unbelievably jaw droppingly strange that it makes me slightly uncomfortable watching it. Mostly these are the British ones such as this serious bizzaro 'toon:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvJy-DG2lfE

I don't get it. At first Rohan was pretty angry and bitter that it wasn't an actual 'toon, but now, I think he actually likes it. It pretty much freaks me out a bit, as do a lot of the shows that they display on Treehouse.

We introduced Rohan to his morning time babysitter - Treehouse, which was to give us a little break in the morning when we first had Avery grace us with his presence. It has now become a serious crack addiction for Rohan, Colin and I alike. It takes the battle of trying to get him to eat his breakfast, and just generally makes him easier to be around in the morning (I say this about both Rohan and his father!!).

There are a few upsides to Treehouse, no commercials (though, now that Christmas is in the near future, I have seen a few sneak in), you don't have to monitor what is on because it is all meant for kids (though as stated above, more bizzaro than educational), and Rohan loves it.

The downsides are of course my total hypocrisy over the whole idea of TV which I still consider evil but now shamelessly depend on in the morning so I can have a peaceful cup of coffee. Oh lord the shame! How catchy the songs are, how wrong do you feel when you are singing children's 'toon's in your head (and even worse, out loud). The fact that is has become an unshakable habit for all of us and of course the fear of survival when we eventually and inevitably cancel our cable once hockey season is finally over.

Oh yes, and how to break this inevitability to Colin, yikes!

Oh yeah, babies!

There are some things that I totally forgot about babies and having them in our house (and having them in the first place quite honestly) and some things that have downright surprised me.

Cleaning mustard with milk curdled poop from diapers and bum a MILLION times a day-oh yeah!

Having to do above cleaning from little tiny dark baby bum hairs-surprise!

Waking up way way too many times a night and potentially staying up for hours at a time-oh yeah!

Doing above activities with toddler sneaking into your bed and laying awake while playing (very annoyingly at this point) with your hair-surprise!

Birth itself? I knew there was a good chance of a some tearage, but not THAT much! Now I have a frankingina! Sorry Va-jay-jay!

The unbelievably enchanting smell of babies. I stick my nose in his hair, in his neck, in his mouth (yup I am gross) and inhale deeply. mmmmmm It is like nothing else. yummy. Oh yeah. However, you must be careful with the neck, there are some serious cheesey parts! (secretly still yummy!!)

The impossible amount that these little people sleep................Jealous much? Up to 20 hours a day for the first couple of weeks. (side note, same as lions, just saying).

The sometimes impossibility of putting these miniature men to sleep. This is where the mama arms come in. There is a serious amount of lifting and rocking and carrying and shushing the transferring from one possible sleep aiding vessel to another. A very very physical job this mothering is.

The sounds of babies. Their gurgling, cooing, giggling, grunting..........my boobs leak just thinking about it (a sign of affection in motherhood!). And the cries, my god, those new born infant shrieks that could induce anxiety in any mother or non mother alike. You will do anything in your power to make that red alert siren stop, again the boobs are leaking just thinking about it!

Okay, lets be honest here, my boobs are ALWAYS leaking. Remember that? I forgot. There was a time when I could wear a shirt two days in a row. Those days are past. I try on yesterdays shirt and have to hold back the gag reflex and bile coming up my throat from the quick and painful whiff of sour milk that encompasses my olfactory system. My emotions are displayed for all to see in large dark circles forming around my breasts. And this leakage is no slow drip, this is a spray that has hit my tiny elf leader in the eye at ten paces. These babies are lethal!

Well that is pretty much all my brain can muster for now, but i am sure I am in for a many 'oh yeah' and 'surprises' in the very near future!

mama milk

When Colin and I first decided (I decided and Colin finally agreed) to start trying for another baby I decided it was a good time to wean my little man from mama milk. I didn't like the idea of breastfeeding with those incredibly sensitive and often painful nipples that are very much indicative to pregnancy.

By this point Rohan was pretty close to being weaned anywho. He was down to the night feeding that put him back to sleep in the middle of the night. We finally decided that since he wasn't one for sleeping through the night anyway, we might as well graduate him to the big boy bed so when he woke up, he could come to us, instead of us going to him.

It worked out pretty well actually. We flopped a futon frame on the floor with a double ikea foamy mattress and TADA the perfect, if he rolled out of bed it would cause no damage to his pretty face, bed! Not only did this transition work to help him sleep a bit better (initially, then of course the honeymoon period ended as it always does) but it removed the need for the night feedings. So that was that, no fuss no muss, Rohan was easily and happily wean from mamas teats! It was so nice to have the titties back in my possession for a while.

There was one incident several months after this weaning that Rohan got it into his head that he needed some more of that sweet sweet liquid gold. It was a morning like any other except that Rohan was aggressively pulling my shirt down trying to get at my dried up sandbags (or as some call them, breasts). He was determine to have some, which was totally out of the blue and totally out of the question. he got over it, but it made me a bit concerned about his possible reaction to my feeding the soon to arrive new baby.

Would he want to try it out again? How would I react to this? Offer it to him when it is the icky colostrum so he wouldn't like it and never ask for it again? Nope, I wouldn't want something liek that to backfire, there was no way I was going to feed a toddler and an infant, he had his time. Flat out refuse it was my next, and most feasible, option, that is if the time came.

For the duration of my pregnancy I tried to prepare Rohan for what babies were really like, using a doll or stuffy I would feed it, burp it and make it CONSTANTLY cry. Eventually I think we established that babies weren't really that much fun and that their food of choice was mama milk, which came from mama's 'boob'.

Once Bambino number two came along, I forgot about my concern about Rohan's possible reaction to the baby's food of choice as it never really came up as far as Rohan wanting any. We have occasionally joked about Rohan eating mama milk, both of us laughing and offering grossed out looks on our faces. And then, a couple of days ago Rohan suprised me with his little imagination. He picked up one of his stuffed animal and placed horizontally across his chest and stated 'Mama Milk'. He was pretending to feed his stuffed animal!

This is a Way Way better reaction to this dilemma! And he moves on up to the cutest kid EVER!!

the double JB

JB's. Jumbo breasts. Mammoth Mammories. Huge honkers. Impressive Jugs. Mountainous Mole Hills. I am out of idea's, I know there are a million words for very large, firm, perky breasts, but my brain is failing me right now. Please feel free to add your bit.


These Milk makers come at a cost, the second JB, Jelly Belly! I have lost the girth, but not the rolly pollies. I am not concerned about it, it comes with the territory and I accept that. I am amused by it, it is an incredibly odd sensation to be able to stick your finger that far into your belly!

I remember how disappointed, sad and actually a little bit repulsed I was of my post baby body after Rohan. The JB's just didn't seem to make up for all the rest. I feel completely different or have a totally different frame of mind for this time. I knew what I would be getting into as far as the body goes, I have been there before. I also feel good, even a little proud of all the tell tale signs that my body is offering to show that I did in fact grow a human being inside of me.

Now I have to stop making excuses for dropping my incredibly large baby belly so fast when people comment. I hate that I feel guilty about being back to normal size already (though it is by no means back to 'normal'). Oh well...................whatever!

talking in tongues

Rohan has many many new words these days, and he is making a constant effort to expand his vocabulary with every word he hears. Some of his efforts are made into hilarious words that Colin is constantly trying to correct I am constantly trying to hold onto for as long as possible.

Some examples of these are:

Hockey dick (stick) I know right!!
nakek (naked)
Pockek (pocket)
Sheeooo (Shoe)
Mooofan (muffin)
raddit (rabbit)
lummy (yummy)
magot (magnet)
gog or goggy (dog or doggy)
dat (cat)
all gong (all gone)

He used to say bap for back but Colin made sure to correct that one................I loved it!

But now he is also speaking a whole new set of words from an origin unknown to myself or Colin
(even, potentially Rohan). Our son is now speaking in tongues.

We have, at times, suspected that he may be possessed by......................something, but now our suspicions seem more founded!

my little Sasquatch

Our handsome little Avery was obviously born with a nice, lush, full head of dark super soft baby hair. Our first, Mister Ro-Dog, had a similar affliction, though more of a flamey orange colour. This is something that my two lucky sons took after me. Believe it or not I was born with a full hair of very dark brown hair. Within the first couple of years I was stripped of my dark haired mystery only to obtain a perky little head of blond locks.

Apparently this hairy headedness was the cause of my chokingly painful heartburn during pregnancy, wives tail? Perhaps I am proof that it is in fact true.

Upon further inspection on my short dark and handsome fellow, we noticed yet more hair. his full head of hair actually extends down, with a light feathering, his forehead ending at the bottom of his eyebrows. He has charming little tufts of elfin hair popping out of the outside edges of his ears, both of them, though I think that righty is a bit longer. His shoulders offer a thin layer of hair that is usually reserved for the shameless speedo clad beach goers that are more hair than skin.

But last, and very much not least, our little elf leader (the meaning behind his name, really, look it up!), has what his father lovingly refers to as Tony Danzas. This affectionate naming refers to a stereotypical assumption that all people of Italian descent has hair spouting out from their butt cracks. This is exactly what is happening on Avery's crack, hair, and lots of it!

Colin was actually concerned enough to ask the midwife if the hair is there permanently, hilarious! I don't remember 'introducing' myself to a Sasquatch last January.............I did have quite a few glasses of wine though................

Ahhh so this is how it starts............

Avery offered me two very large splashes of projectile vomit this fine evening. It went from a nice pristine white to a bile coloured yellow. Smelly, and drenched with my own mama milk I had my first wave of the faint beginnings of mama guilt.

One of the very first things that went through my mind was a quick run through of what I had eaten today that could have poisoned my child to the point of projectile vomiting on his mother. This was literally my first thought. How have I made my child sick. Crazy. It was so non chalant and casual in my head. I didn't start off berating myself as a careless or thoughtless mother, I just let the assumption slide down my thoughts into a pool of 'it was my fault'.

Is this normal, sane, behaviour? Is this a pure mother emotion or is this just a me mama issue? Is this where the spiral of on going 'I blame myself as this mothers child for his behaviour/illness/etc'. I see where it leads, I have a 2 and a half year old after all. Rohan becomes a whiney little so and so, refuses to nap or eat and dumps his milk on the floor while simultaneously urinating in his pants and my first reflex isn't 'man this kid is a brat' it is ' the poor baby isn't getting enough attention from his mama, poor poor Rohan, bad bad mama'. How is that possible?

So I see where it leads, but I didn't realize that it stemmed from the milking months. But it makes sense right? Your baby is colic because of what you consume such as milk or soy or wheat. Your poor innocent infant is reeling in pain because you just had to have that piece of pizza, selfish cow (you not the one that made your cheese!).

Unfair man, so unfair!!

Alone, with two kids?

I am actually terrified to be alone with Rohan and Avery. The thought of Colin leaving the house for any extended period of time and leaving me to fend for myself, gasp, my heart slides up and lands like a lump in my throat. I am not totally sure how to handle a completely dependent child and a partially depending but striving to be independent child.

I can't leave them alone together for fear that Rohan may very well smother the little bugger with love. How do I go to the bathroom? Who do I bring? How do I keep up with the potty training when I have one boy that has to pee and the other one attached to my boob? How will I ever be able to leave the house with these two when one of them has a touch of Houdini? Is it really time to invest in a leash for the wild little man that I could chase after up until my very day of labour?

I feel a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. I am calm when it comes to Avery (my angel baby) and calm (yet slightly more impatient than I would like to be) with Rohan (my beautiful little first born), but the two of them together gives me minor heart palpitations. Rohan is generally amazing with Avery, mostly nonchalant. Ignoring him on most occasions, offering kisses and pets of affection on the others. But being pulled two ways, Rohan wanting up all the time, Avery pooping like a champion all the time. How canIi keep my attention on them both?

How am I going to make sure that Rohan isn't feeling too neglected while still being able to offer Avery his due attention? How the fuck do people have more than two????? Impressive!

The perfect baby

I am a bit nervous about this post because I don't want to jinx it.

Back in my new mom day's I often heard about this specific class of babies. Listening to these moms made me think they were either lying, or just being smug. 'yeah, tell me more about you precious bundle of joy that has practically slept through the night since birth, thhhhhhhhhhhhh'. These super babies that never fuss, doing nothing other than sleep, eat and poop. Not possible. Is it?

Well, call me smug, but I am pretty sure that this baby dropped down from angel baby land, to float peacefully and sleepily onto my breast with a contented sigh. I don't really offer this information to brag, trust me. At first we were concerned with this sleeping thing, so much so, that Colin made me take his temperature to make sure he didn't have a fever, he is that sleepy. I have actually woken this child up to relieve the massive boulders, that at one point resembled breasts. Woke him up...............seriously.

Avery has given me hope in a world that I have only known to be sleepless. In a world of nap battles and bed time battles, a child exists that falls asleep when gently place in a supine position temporarily while I get something in the kitchen. Alone. By himself. Without rocking, nursing, singing or some form of white noise. Whether this lasts is irrelevant, these couple of weeks have been baby bliss.

I offer this small measly dose of hope to new and seasoned mothers alike, some babies do sleep. Do not give up hope! I will keep you updated once this honeymoon period ends!

Out the door not the window

In so many ways I feel as if I did in fact climb Mount Everest. In the unbelievable soreness of my body (though I am not totally sure how a vagina can be harmed in the climbing of a mountain) but also in the sense of accomplishment. Yes I do realize that this is a universal accomplishment, one that is probably being conquered right now by thousands of women, but that thought adds to the pride and awe more than puts a damper on it. I did it. He came out the door and my ugly window is closed for ever.

Everything about the labour was perfect. If I had written this a short three days earlier I may have offered a less than perfect, less sugar coating, rainbows and bubbles. It was hard, I think, I am so amazed at how quickly we forget the labour part, the pain part, the unbearable 'I think I may actually die' part and remember the important parts. These are the parts leading up to the unbearable and the seconds after, when the baby is placed on your stomach for the first time and you feel as if nothing else exists in this world but this perfect moment with this beautiful perfect baby.

My labour started peacefully at about 3am. I wasn't sure if it was a false alarm, so I kept waiting for the next contraction than the next contraction, than the next contraction until it was about 5am till I woke up Colin. During this time I lay there excitement and anticipation filling my entire being, and so much love for my two boys in which I was sandwiched in between. We were going to meet our new addition soon and I was swooning already!

I nudged Colin and said ever so casually 'what are our plans today again?' to which he replied in the most confused and sleepy tone 'what?' 'Well lets have a baby today instead!'. We slept a bit longer, groggily climbing out of bed around 630am. We did some puttering, got the bag together, had breakfast (french toast, energy food) a cup of coffee.........just try and deny me coffee, I dare ya. Called my brother to tell him the news, than headed over there to visit and drop Rohan off for the day.

I have now discovered that boys are pretty panicky. I was heading into a contraction every 3 minutes, and those guys were practically shoving me out the door towards the car to head to the birthing centre. I was pretty content to hang out there a bit longer, but they were having none of it! So bye bye Rohan, see you soon, into the van and on the road we go. Talked to the midwife en route and my contractions started to slow down. Now stuck in Gatineau until they started getting closer together, I just needed some nature to walk in for a while to get things moving again. We got some bagels and hot chocolates from Tim Hortons (whatever) had a nice contraction in the bathroom! Crazy! And headed for a park to walk in.

It was cold and rainy, but we walked and walked and walked around this little ghetto park, me stopping at each tree to lean against for another contraction. This felt so nice. This felt so natural. It was nice for Colin and I to have this extra bonding time, something we had been lacking for a while. Finally headed to the Maison de Naissance for some serious labouring.

There was such a sense of calm and quiet and peace walking in there, instantly different from the sensation of walking through the sterile halls of a hospital. Our room was purple, a huge bed on one end and a tub fit for several queens to the other. We were still in very high sprirts, turned on the radio (to CBC, god I am a geek) stripped down and hopped into the massive tub. At this point I am 5or 6 cm. I ate, I drank, me and Colin discussed names, giggled together and after much searching, agreed on a classic rock station, Pink Floyd and labouring actually worked pretty well together! Amazing amazing amazing.

Once I got out of the tub, I spent most of the rest of the labour on the toilet. This is obviously when things got a bit less glamorous! I started to sing a deep toned AHHHHHH through my contractions to keep my jaw open (it is connected to the cervix) and go with the flow. Lost my cool on many occasions, did some crying, did some vomiting (this also opens up the cervix) and started pushing while still on the toilet. There was a HUGE pop and an explosive gush of liquid, scared the bejeezes out of us! And so the fun began!

I distinctly remember the difference in intensity between the previous contractions and the very first one after the water broke...............I was up on the bed by then and I was literally climbing the walls. It was pure pushing after that. I felt the baby coming down (hurrah I felt everything this time!), I felt the head hit and the ring of fire begin. Wow! Then the head slipped out, one more push and in a tidal wave of liquid and baby out came the body. Ahhh amazing amazing amazing. There it was goopey and beautiful and on my naked belly, screaming and crying and warm and magical. 'Oh my baby. oh my baby' was all I could say as the tears streamed down my face. We did it little man, we took the trek and we arrived.

There was a book that I read that stated that there was nothing like bearing witness to a woman who accomplished a vaginal birth after a cesarean. After feeling as if your body was faulty, you finally get your chance to realize that you can do it, you can do what billions of women have been doing since the beginning of time! This is what it feels like. This is calm, this is bonding, this is real oxytocin running through my body, this is birth and it was beautiful!

Budder

So there I am at the ole GT Boutique (judge me if you must, I have no excuses for my hypocritical ways) getting some veg shortening, fruit and nut mix a big carton of coffee cream and winter gloves for the man. I am quietly standing in the line up, belly protruding uncomfortable far from my spine, constant Braxton Hicks (trickster contractions) turning my already firm abdomen into a rock hard mass of flesh, waiting my turn.

The line is a bit wonky, off to the side instead of straight down, but whatever, I sidle up anyway. A middle aged gentleman holding a bag of chips climbs up to the line in front of me, making a fork in the road. I think to myself 'he only has a bag of chips, I will let him go ahead of me' but it turns out, he did anyway. There is another lady that is just ahead of me, she veers off from the line on the search of another potentially open cash, none to be seen (though, really there is like, three options, I am sure she would have been able to check it out by standing on tip toe!). She than goes around behind me, down the aisle beside me, than Swoop right in front of me.

This is getting more regretful and sad, and as I didn't have Rohan screaming on my large protruding belly, amusing. So far, standing in line, very very pregnant, juggling several articles in my hands, I have had 2 people bud in front of me in line. Crazy.

Than a new cash opens up and I nearly get pushed over for the rush to get to it (total exaggeration of course). I have a total of 3 people bud in front of me while standing in line. Is it me or is this very very wrong? No more niceties for the preggers, fend for yourself 'little' girl, this is the GT Boutique and we got's some serious consuming to take care of! Sheesh.

I am not okay

As I get bigger my ability to keep it together is getting smaller. I can't seem to get my shit together these days to function as a warm and caring mother to my beautiful unknowing son. I can't help but hope to myself that these are not the memories he is going to have of me when he grows up. 'When I was two and a half my fat mom sat on the bathroom floor and cried because I spat in her face'...........not my most shining moment in parenthood.

This is just one time in a long list of throwing in the towel and having a little tear fest. The first trimester was similar to this as well as the first few months of Rohan's life. I am thinking that I just don't take to the extreme increase in hormones as well as others. Too many hormones to start with maybe? Never the less, I catch myself weeping over the simplest things and wondering how I am going to manage to do this with two?

I sometimes get the image of the mom in the movie About a Boy When the son comes home to see his mom weeping. I think of what Rohan is seeing. He is so unbelievably sensitive and offers so much of this sensitivity to me that it just makes me feel worse. He has sat on my lap and wiped away my tears, given me kisses and hugs and just generally maintained my presence to make sure I was okay. Actually, he would make an amazingly attentive boyfriend, lucky girl that eventually snags this gem!

These are the days that I feel like I am failing as a mom. These are the days that I feel like I am just not cut out for this job. These are the days that I think to myself 'what right do I have to bring another child into this world when I am doing such a poor job at being a mom to my first?'. These are the days that I wish I had some close friends that I could call and they could come over and drink tea with me and just..................be here.

Motherhood is such a lonely job. Even with a partner, and at times I think, even more so when you do have a 'partner'. And what, you may ask, gets me out of this funk? leaving this house that, more often than not, is what brings me into it in the first place. When in the same place day in and day out, spending more time than you would ever like trying to maintain some semblance of cleanliness, things get overwhelming. Especially when you are attempting to keep your two and a half year old entertained and you are so unbelievably large and pregnant and oh so very tired. It is hard to be at home and not clean or want to clean, or make mental notes of what needs to get done or cooked or baked stresssssssss. As soon as we leave the house, the house is out of my vision and, for the most part, out of mind.

That is why, in public, I seem like a much more calm and attentive mom, because I am not at home! That also applies with company. I feel much less inclined to worry about the house when people are over, I would much rather sit around and gossip!

The conclusion? We need a maid in order for me to be a good mom!! haha yeah right!

Home alone

I went to my brother and sister in law's for Thanksgiving dinner tonight. It was a nice small gathering with the two families and Michelle's mom. It was super nice.

I have recently taken up the habit of forgetting holidays. This I find odd considering it should really be the opposite considering this whole parenthood thing that I have taken on. I think it should be ingrained in with all the other maternal instincts that I have acquired, but nope, I forget every time. It is nice to have family around to not only remind me, but to encourage me to celebrate these holiday's as well. I am pretty sure, if it wasn't for them, we would be eating pasta and going to bed early (though that bed early is still in the world of possibilities for me at this point).

I find now, that when I go to social gatherings, or have any social outing at all, that I tend to communicate out of a daze. I feel so out of it and spacey and tired and just incapable of holding a real conversation with anyone. I should really just hole up at home until I get my personality back! However, the benefits of this is that I am blatantly pregnant, and that tends to be the one thing that I talk about. Mostly about the girth, my very very large presence. Even those snippits of conversation get broken up with Rohan trying to get my attention. Blah, I need my brain back!

So anyway, had dinner and now Colin went out with my brother, which I actually think is great because they just don't hang out enough in my books. For some reason, beer always seems to be the one tool in which men are able to bond the best with each other. Oh what I wouldn't give for that bonding vessel to be a chess board or jogging shoes and not a beer bottle, but whatever. And here I am, home alone.

I have been home alone before, though I didn't know it was going to happen at the time, so I pretty much slept through the whole event. It feels................okay. I mean I have a slight tinge of paranoia, but in all honesty, when don't I have a slight tinge of paranoia? I like having the whole bed to myself (well, until Rohan climbs in). It is pretty quiet. I kind of wish I had a good book to settle into the night with. Steal all of Colin's pillows, create myself a little pillow heaven. I like to have one especially to hold the book as well. That is pampering! I will look for one I guess. Hmmm Yes, it is pretty quiet.

burny, ouch

We had a very painful lesson learned the other day, me and Rohan. I will give it equal blame. I blame myself for creating an area of unsafety in my kitchen, and Rohan for not using his, not developing as I feel they should be, listening skills.

I was preheating our sandwich press thingy to make some super delicious cheese, tomato and tofalony sammies for lunch. I must admit here that the press was unnecessarily close to the edge of the counter, I will offer myself a shake of the head and a loudish 'idiot' for that not thought through move. Rohan was jumping around me excitedly. Nice combination right?

So I leaned down and to look him in the eye and said 'Rohan, I want you to be aware that this is very very hot *Pointing emphatically to the sandwich press* please be careful'. Well, my dear little man decided to take this opportunity to express his 'terrible two's' proof of independence with a nice big dash of rebelling against his mama. Up goes his hand with a look of pure defiance plastered on his face.................and smack right onto the preheated for a good 10 minutes, sandwich press.

Now would be a good time to show off the trucker mouth. Fuck. Ouch city. So he was obviously pretty upset about the whole ordeal, as was I, but not enough maybe? I offered a loving and supportive sympathy for him, but I have to admit, in the back of my head I though to myself 'cause and effect, a very good lesson for today' also, 'always listen to your mother because she knows best. Does make me evil and completely lacking in sensitivity? Hmmm maybe. I don't really know. I feel pretty sensitive most of the time!

It was a pretty bad burn in the end, the picture does not give it justice. He is really good sport about it and now he is pretty unaffected by the blisters in his hand. He was, however, affected by the situation itself. When he wants to discuss this moment of drama he tends to say ' Mama, No', meaning mama said no and I did it anyway. Hmmm I guess it was a lesson learned, he certainly backs away anytime I say something is hot now! Poor little guy!

pictures!

Just a few of the awesome pictures that we had done! Yes Rohan looks VERY unamused, but overall we are super happy with these! Yay!

Down Town Bribery Town

We had a photo session today at a professional photography studio. http://www.babyandbelly.ca/
We had done the same thing while I was pregnant with Rohan, so to avoid immediate concerns of sibling favourtism, I decided that we should offer similar pictures for bambino numbero 2. It wasn't a very difficult decision to make, even though the pictures that we had taken before turned out to be horrible. Colin and I take pretty okay pictures.....................alone. Together we look ridiculous. At least one of us always has some sort of very unfortunate expression on our face. And it didn't help that I had the appearance of the stay puff marshmallow man by the time we had them taken!

I also wanted to have some really cute images of Rohan being all lovey toward the baby. See baby number two, your brother loved you before you were even out of the womb. Aww look at those two inseparable siblings, it started before sibling number two took it's first breath of air! I had looked through the pictures in the portfolio and the ones that incorporate the first born's are so unbelievably adorable. I had some pretty darn fantastic pictures in my head as well.

Well, as to be anticipated after so much expectation, the pictures didn't go as well as I had expected. We started off with family photos on the floor. Rohan looked positively pissed off. He just sat there with an ever widening frown upon his angry little cheeks. To be fair, it was pretty bright behind all the lighting, it was pretty impersonal and of course he could most likely feel our uncomfortable tension. We let him go play while Colin and I did our ever so classic maternity poses together.

Then we tried to coax Rohan back to take some more pictures. He was having none of it. And so ensued the bribery. Cue candy here. This was initially offered by the photographer, and out of desperation for our perfect family photo's, we went with it. The main problem with this of course was that Rohan doesn't even know the word candy, so it did not even faze him as far as his stubbornness went. I offered and bribed a few more things that he would know and potentially want, to no avail. He just got progressively angrier and determine.

This was all fine, I was hoping to have more photo's with Rohan in them, but that may come with the next set of pictures which will include our new addition. What the real concern for me is the allowance and then the continuation of the use of bribery. I didn't think that this was going to be a method of parenting that was going to take part in. Do I want to coax my wee man into doing what I want him to by offering him sweet rewards? Is that not a similar downward slide to giving him a sweet when he hurts himself. Food that is bad for you is your reward and the one thing that may make you feel better about scraping your knee. Nope, don't like it.

I will attempt to avoid these food offerings as much as I can, that is until our next photo session!! Crap!

Duck duck duck

Colin and I have trucker mouths. We have come to terms with it, I am sure we are both very much aware that it is not charming to hear the effing and jeffing coming out of mouths. We don't necessarily even reserve this language for such harsh moments that they may be required to emphasize a statement or even for those moments of stubbed toes or cut fingers.

These words slip out of our mouths like the split tongue of a slippery snake, (I would like to insert here that I was tempted to do these guys ;%^& instead of the actual curse word, but than I remembered that this is my fucking blog and I can do what I want..............haha) 'uggg we have to fix the fucking toilet', milk spills 'oh fuck', obvious statement being made in conversation 'no shit'. It just comes out. We don't even notice. Well we don't notice on ourselves, we do however notice on each other all the time. It is a hard habit to break when you have been marinating in trucker mouth ville for years without consequence. But now, we are becoming more aware of the potential consequences.

Rohan is now mimicking our words. He is almost always rewarded with high fives, props and kisses for each word he discovers and repeats. I am just happy and delighted by the effort he is making, Colin is much more interested in making sure that he is able to pronounce each word properly, the best of both worlds I would say!

So onward he goes with all the praise and encouragement behind him he enters into the wonderful world of the English language, sounding it out, putting two to three words together, pride shining on his beautiful little face. All this while Colin and I caution each other and ourselves about our uncouth language.

And then it finally happened and it was the worst of the worst. I think it was me, Rohan grabbed the remote control and pressed a button and I had a suspicion that he may have ordered us some porn on the TV. Okay maybe not so bad, but I am thinking, though it is all a blur, that I may have said (hopefully under my breath, though not under enough) 'fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck'. Obviously I was using my words to the max at that point! And guess what I heard in the most innocent and beautiful and childlike voice? A very well pronounced (papa would be so proud) mimicking of mama's cursing. As I hid my laughing mouth behind my hands I had to come up with what method we should go about handling this situation.

I cannot tell you how hard it was not to laugh out load and turn this into a word he uses to make mama laugh. Bad handling method for sure. So I decided to confuse the poor wee lad by saying 'duck duck duck, what does a duck say'. And that was it. He thought (I hope) that I was saying duck and we went on with our day. First slip up on mama's part averted.........for now!

All hands on deck

I am a belly rubber. A rubber, a caresser, an examiner, a hand rester, a poker and prodder.

I don't often realize that I am doing it until I am around non belly rubbers. Those pregnant women who don't have belly occupation, those that apparently have 'other' things to do with themselves than poking their belly buttons just to see if it still offers them an almost instant gag reflex.

I also had, during a midwife appointment, my midwife comment about my hands constantly joining my belly in a warm yet possessive embrace. She was concerned that there was something wrong with me. I believe that was the first time I realize how bad it had gotten. It was so out of control that it brought the concern of my care professionals.

I love my belly. It is a prefect little torpedo sticking out in front of me. The perfect resting place for my arms, hands, children (the one inside and a nice shelf for the one outside to sit on) and whatever else I decide to sit on it. I have a real live baby growing in there that moves around all limbs and butt. I get so drawn to it, I just cannot resist the temptation to shake the booty that is sticking out near my ribs.

I am not, however, one of those people that feels drawn to other woman's little torpedoes. I would never come up to a strangers person and feel an automatic clearance to her most precious of packages (belly people, belly). I consider that to be strange and totally invasive. Besides, with what am I going to touch their belly with when both of my hands are velcroed to my own bundle of joy?!

I have also, during this pregnancy, become much more accepting of the downfalls of my over stretched abdominal skin. One very obvious and distinct 'downfall' is the bombardment of cat like scratches that are taking over. I had almost made it through my entire first pregnancy unscathed. The last month got me. I cried. I instantly missed my original body. It was firm, it was unblemished. It was familiar. Now I feel as if that old familiarity of my sweet little 20 something body is unrecognizable to me now. What is familiar to me now is my new and, day by day, more adored, mama body. It may have taken me a couple of years, but I think that I am finally proud of my mama tattoo. Though everything looks a little cuter when on a big ole preggy belly!

Either way, this body has proved to do something amazing and magical and it is hard not to lay a possessive and proud hand on the source of this mystery. Yup, I love this belly of mine!

The zen art of dig dig digging

A rough morning. I got pulled over today. The police woman was behind me for a while before she put her lights on. I cannot tell you her reasoning, boredom, practice, end of the month quota? Either way, it wasn't terribly upsetting for me. I wasn't speeding, she just decided to call in my license plate for fun. Our registration was expired. Oops. No sticker on the license plate that indicated as much (no sticker at all here in the QC).

I was cursing myself, but still not too overwhelmed by the whole situation, just kept Rohan entertained while she checked up my license and the deal with not getting warning about this expiration in the mail. I was a bit nervous about her mentioning that she may have to get me towed as well as a fine. Just as a reminder, 8 months pregnant, 2 and a half year old in the back, hot outside, 5 km or more to the house, and as I found out, no water in my bottle. Not ideal.

She came back and graciously informed me that I did not have to get my vehicle towed, as she handed me my fine without looking me in the eye. I didn't even look at it as I drove away, still cursing myself and slightly unhappy about forking out, what? Max $200? What is the going rate for these things anyway. So I made it home and before I left the van I took a look at the fine $438. Without a moment of hesitation my water pipe burst and I offered the people on our street the sound of my howling cry. Are you fucking kidding me?

Sobbing I let Rohan out of the car to play in his sand trap as I sat and cried uncontrollably in the van for...........a little while anyway. We go inside. I am still incapable of even speaking and trying to avoid Rohan for pure guilt of releasing my self pity without a tiny speck of self control. Rohan just starts begging me to go outside and dig dig dig. So out we go. I sit on the steps, still lacking control of my emotions while Rohan contentfully digs in the sand. Than he starts harassing me to dig with him. Umm last thing I want to do kid, really.

But I relent. There is only so much 'poor me' action that can happen around a two year old before they become very very impatient with you. So I sat in the sand with him and started digging. As I sat I felt my worries slowly melt out of my body and into my little blue plastic shovel. Dazed and numb I sat and dug, ridding the sand of rocks, dumping the sand into a large green pail. Over and over, scoop, dump, scoop, dump. Repetitive motions. And than it was gone. I felt like myself again, I start interacting with Rohan on a nice level, without the sound of my whinny baby voice.

Rohan has taught me the zen like quality that Buddha Monks have known about for, well, ever. You know the zen sand tables? Yup that's what we were doing. It is amazing how something so simple can completely alter your frame of mind, flipping that frown to it's rightly position on your face, and washing that nasty negative away to let the positive shine on through.

This is not to say that I suddenly aqcuired $438 extra from on of our many trees, I am still in deep doo doo, but I don't feel super stressed anymore. It will work out. It always does. I even got a little load of free wood shortly after. Not bad. I feel even better after having eating a nice large bowl of ice cream! The Zen art of eating ice cream with be along shortly!

This just confirms my thoughts that Rohan teaches me much more than I could teach him!

Confessions of a Water Wally

I had a bath today. We have a huge bathtub that has jets. We have never used them. I came into the bathroom shortly after Colin came home from helping a friend move some chopped wood to his house. I closed the door, opened the window facing our neighbours house which is very much blocked by trees and other such foliage. I cranked on both taps and dropped about 5 or so drops of Lavender into the tub.

I hopped in while it was filling up to make sure the temperature was to my liking. Gradually the tub filled with warm, soothing, beautiful, wasteful water. I layed back an luxuriated like a princess. I poured more hot water in, than a little bit more. In the end, any limbs that were left outside of the tub were emitting steam, the facecloth was steaming, the tub of water itself was offering a nice foggy shadow of steam that lingered around my head.

This was probably too hot for a pregnant girl, but how can you enjoy such a luxury when it is only luke warm? If it isn't hot, why bother? I read my book and felt the constant wiggle of baby within. Eventually Rohan got curious and came upstairs to join me in the tub. Ahhhhh I love a bath with my little man!

So you may be thinking to yourself, as I would as well if I were reading this "you go girl, you are pregnant and achy and deserve a nice warm bath and some time to yourself". It is true, and in all honesty, I do believe that I deserve a nice hot bath occasionally. The problem, however, is that I also had a very similar bath yesterday. And possibly shortly before that, I may have also indulged.

That is a lot of water to waste on a very clean body. There were times, back in the day, that people only had one cleansing bath a week, or less even. There are people that cannot find enough clean water to drink, let alone soak in for an hour (or more, man I really extended the last one!). I have water guilt and have serious issues justifying the usage of such unnecessary water. But I love it so much.

In fact, this love I have now re-acquired for my baths has become all consuming. During the day, when I sometimes catch myself in a different world, thoughts drifting to the sky, they are not thinking with anticipation about our soon to born child, or our already born child or even my hard working man. Nope I drift into bath dreams. I think about how easily it takes the chill off. I think about it so much sometimes, that I can not seem to get warm, or I curse the warm weather for making it impossible for me to comfortable in a hot bath.

It this an indulgence to prepare my body for some serious labour time bath soakage ( the bedrooms, and I mean that quite literally, in the birthing centre has a massive tub in the middle of them, oh how this one will be different!) or is it just my preparation for the changing of the seasons? The autumn time prep? Either way, we have a well, which make not make it totally acceptable for me to be wasting water like a wally, but I will keep that one as a temporary excuse until I can come up with a better one!!

Nap City

As I sit here writing, Rohan is napping. A novelty to say the least. For the last week he has been avoiding naps like the plague (I don't know how I feel about this expression actually). For 1 to two hours a day for a week I have layed with my beautiful little man attempting to coax him into dream land. It gets very very frustrating after a while...........trust me.

So when the droopy eyes finally close and I manage to very quietly tip toe out of his room ( a learned art) I give myself a little pat on the back and prepare to do all the things I had been saving for this very special alone mama time. This time is not very exciting, nor is it really considered productive in any sense of the word. I play on the computer for a while, than head upstairs to the big fat mattress on the floor that we recognize as our bed and read. Than, if the fancy takes me (why wouldn't it really) I may have a nice little cat nap. Yup, filled with motivation this one!

This has, however, not been the case the last week. After up to 2 hours of coaxing and convincing I have only received an astonishing 45 minutes of nap. I am barely finished with my computer time by then. The disappointment is heartbreaking. I need this time to gather my thoughts, calm down for a bit and just be by myself. 45 mintues does not give me enough time to give myself mama regeneration, the gatorade of refueling happy mama.

Anywho, I told my sister in law of this dilema that I have been having and she offered some very sound and logical advice. 'Well if it is taking that long for such a minor nap, why not cut the nap?". I felt myself gasp as the air was sucked from my lungs................no nap. Oh my god, ow can I make it through a whole day without any nap? This is what breaks up the day. We do stuff in the morning, than lunch than nap. We then do a bit of stuff in the afternoon than I start the rididulously time consuming process of making dinner.

On a side note, why does this meal take so unbelievably long to prepare and than dismantle? Like a good 3 hours a day are spent on dinner alone. The preprep, the cooking, the setting of table, the eating (convincing Rohan to eat, and the battle that ensues there.........oh but for another time) and than the clean up. Man I need to hire a professional chef!!

So I tried it yesterday. I put a little bit of effort into nap time as Rohan was showing very real signs of being tired enough to nap, but to no avail. So we had a no nap day. Not a angry, bitter, resentful, me close to tears from effort unfounded, no nap day, just an experiment. It went okay, I had a little less patience, although that is coming also with beginning to be very uncomfortably pregnant and tired, but it went pretty well overall. He was exhausted come night time and was asleep by 7pm which is incredible.

But I missed my time to unwind.

Today, however, he surprised me by falling asleep in the car on the way home from our day's events. And now it has been over an hour. I am so confused. But at whatever cost............welcome back nap time, I have missed you so this week!

Act your age not your shoe size

This is us in Niagara Falls for my 28th birthday. So young, so carefree, so unknowing about what the next three years will entail for us. It seems crazy that it has only been 3 years, we have fit a lot of growing up in that time (well.........some of us! har har). We are now on our second child, we have taken two epic trip across Canada, to BC and than to Quebec. I hauled ass to BC in the greyhound to get myself a job before the world could tell I was pregnant ( the Greyhound + 2 months pregnant=yuck city) Colin arriving a couple of months later in his ridiculously small sports car packed with a crazy amount of stuff. Only to pack up everything into a Safari Van, just under 2 years later, and take the epic trip together with our just over one year old, to Quebec.

Here I am, three years later, pregnant again (read - ways to prevent yourself from partying on your birthday...uggh). I feel great, I am happy about the decisions we have made so far..............all of them, every one. I may still not know what I want to be when I grow up, but now I know for sure that I already am something pretty special. I am a mom. That is something truly amazing. As I write this blog (see-attentive mom playing on computer and ignoring child) I am growing a human being inside of me. Holy crap!

I feel like over the last couple of years I have started to open myself to the world. I have let more things in that I have denied myself before, or just denied in general. I have become more interested in what is happening in our world, the whole one, not just mine. I have relaxed. Not completely, motherhood doesn't always fit well with total relaxation, but I do lot less stressing about myself, about vanity, about the minor details. I am becoming a lot more comfortable about not being perfect, a feat I could not imagine taking on a mere 10 years ago. Or even 2 for the matter.

I feel like my internal search is one that will last a life time, but that I have become more accepting to each realization about myself. For example: I have been reading the book 'Happiest Toddler on the Block'. I have really enjoyed it's humour and have related and understood most of it's intentions and it's explanations about the ways of a toddler. I have not, however, really implemented any of the suggestions it has offered. Because of that fact, I have not finished reading the last chapter. Once I finish that chapter I will have to started practicing some of this stuff. So instead of knuckling down and getting to work to make parenting a toddler 'easier' I lent the book to my sister and decided to depend on my maternal instincts on this one (also known as LME or Lazy Mom Excuses!).

That is fine, I may not always practice what I read, even if I totally understand and believe what I am offered. Sometimes I just want to wing it to see what happens! So for so good, though not without a few hiccups along the way (like not sleeping for longer than 2 hours at a time for a year straight..............oh god, I forgot about that part!).

I like where I am, Wakefield is great, the people are great, the province has the best support for families that any other province in this country has. Cost of living is ridiculous compared to Victoria (if only it could have been with you Victoria). I have a lot of growing left to do (outward and inward at this point) but I am enjoying the process. Meanwhile, in celebration of my birthday I enjoyed a long and too hot bath with eucalyptus oil, while sipping on (gasp) a glass of red wine. It's okay folks, this bambino is fully developed, and by the feel of it, is having a hell of time partying it up in my belly!

Ahh that was nice. I still feel sniffly and icky (stupid cold) but so happy and so positive. Oh Red Wine, how I have missed our times together! We shall meet again one day. Happy Birthday to me.

Man do I feel like acting my shoe size today!!!

absorbing the beauty

I have become obsessed (not really in the literal sense, in fact, I am not totally sure I like that word being used so lightly!!) with watching/reading/absorbing beautiful, magical birth stories. I have watched videos and read books with peoples stories or their births in them. I just can't seem to get enough of it. For some of these stories I end up with tears of gratitude running down my face.

It is like I have finally reached a point where I need as much positive input, energy, possibilities to soak into my very pores. I need to have a goal to reach for. THis is what I want to feel like after I birth my second child. This is how I want to take in and make my way through my next labour. I want openness, freedom, no more contracting but (as one book offered) getting constant consecutive baby hugs guiding my child forth toward the light.................go toward the light little one.

Come on baby turn baby turn, I birth you naturally, bit first, you MUST MUST turn around. Panic sets in. What if the baby doesn't turn...........I don't think I can do another C-Section, it will wound my soul too much. Baby baby baby, we have some work to do you and I!

Will it be Mr.Hyde todaY?

Dear Rohan,

There are times when I feel like I am a very conflicted and confusing mom. There are some times when I have a constant abundance of energy, patience and understanding. These days I feel myself look at things within a perspective of a two year old. I see how frustrating it can be to only have a limited ability to communicate, how you are pretty much completely controlled.........I mean guided, by the big people.

You are testing your limits and dipping your toes into a big full pond of independence. You often see how big and deep and unlimited this pond can be, and you get scared of its depths. These are the times that you seek me out for comfort and security. I like to think that as often as possible, I provide this for you. These are the good days.

On the other, less than good days, or even just moments in time, I become blind to your newness. These times I am lacking something, such as food (oh how I can be intolerant when ma belly is empty), super tired , from lack of sleep or just from being kinda big and kinda pregnant, or even just from basking in something negative (regretfully I do) which gives me too much negative energy. This is when I switch to unfair mommy.

I get frustrated faster on these days. I become less tolerant of situations or sounds that you make, such as whining. Good days, I get your frustration, I bend down, I talk to you at eye level and find out what you need. Bad days I hear the sound of nails on the chalk board, and I am sure, I whine right back at you. And I get mad so fast and so unnecessarily. I feel guilty about these days. I know I can parent better, but I just can't seem to find the reserves, the energy, the patience.

Your mom is a classic case of the Dr. Jekyll and Miss. Hyde. Sorry Ro-Dog, I guess the rumours are true, no one is perfect all the time. Just know that I am trying my best and that I love you very much, even when I seem like a crazy woman!!

Love you,

Love Mama
ssoo

Yay for Rohan!!

Dear Rohan,

Today has been monumental on many levels it seems. You Were seeking out daddy in your time of anguish, which was pretty crazy. And you finally said your name!! yahoo! You are in the process of some serious verbal diarrhea right now and it is amazing.

You are stringing some words together and learning whole new ones. All prompted by you. A few of these words over the last couple of days have been boot, beach, dig, eat, there is more, but I am bit distracted, daddy is putting you down to sleep tonight, not going so well!

Maybe next time!

Sweet dreams
xxoo

Daddy.....no daddy

Dearest Ro-Dog,

We were enjoying another one of our on going, ever anticipated nap time battles when you decided to start hitting and kicking. You + heat + tired mama = serious nap time battle. I am still not sure where I intend to go in the world of discipline (or if that is even a word I would like to use in our moments of 'guidance') but I do know that getting kicked kind of sucks.

SO at this moment in time, I decided on separation. I left the room and shut the door and watched the clock for three minutes. As I was was peacefully resting on my bed, glancing at the clock, you were screaming you little heart out. It had more of a growl than an actual teary sad sound. Very animalistic, very pronounced, pretty cute. During this spout of animal sound madness, you started screaming for daddy.

Daddy? Hmmm this is new. What could it mean? Could it mean that I have reached such a cruel and heartless point in our relationship that are now attempting to seek out daddy for the love, comfort and support that you 'used' to get from mama? Mama is now the disciplinarian? Or could it be......................a breakthrough? Are you now finally seeking out daddy as an additional person of comfort as well as mama? Are you starting to grow out of the 'mama is the only one who will ever be good enough' faze and into the knowledge that daddy ain't so bad after all?

Could this mean that if I have the urge to go to the toilet after you sneak into our bed in the morning, you will be okay with laying in bed with daddy until I get back and not hop out of bed in tears because I had abandoned you?

If this is the case little man, this it impeccable timing! If all goes well, in the next couple of months you develop such an okayness about things being done without mama, that you may even (fingers crossed) let daddy put you down to sleep? I know I said I love it, and for the most part I do, but it will be so much more difficult with the new bambino on mama's boob!

Baby steps my little friend, baby steps!

Love mama
XXoo