Ultra Sound

We had our ultrasound finally on Wednesday. It took over a month for them to be able to book me in, putting me up to 26 weeks (your first should ultimately be completed by your 22nd week). That is fine. I just needed to get some ultrasound pictures so we didn't start the favourtism too early, and of course to make sure that the child was but one, and that is was healthy, which I think it looks pretty good up there in the picture!

The experience itself was very impersonal and strange. Let me first explain the ultrasound experience we had with Rohan before I get into this one. With Rohan, the technician was super friendly, super chatty and explained what each picture was when she clicked on it. It was easily visible to myself and Colin and she explained where each thing is. Rohan was in the right position, so she exclaimed her joy for that as well.

While we were there another technician came in to test the 3D imaging on the machine, which meant that we were able to see Rohan in 3D, a totally surreal experience to say the least. That is when it becomes really 'real' is when you can see the child within you in the flesh..............almost. It was a really exciting experience and we received a few sneaky 3D pictures (something we would have had to pay $100 for if we had requested it) and a ridiculous amount of regular pictures. I felt pretty good leaving the roomy light room.

This time around it was like night and day. The technician was waiting for us when we had walked into the room after my name was called. He was very very french and explained to us, in french, that Rohan isn't normally allowed in the room. I brought him because I wanted him to be apart of all these special pre baby experiences, get him more excited by the prospect. It turned out to be okay, though we are not allowed to bring him again.

The room we were brought into was tiny, no windows and had a very dark and basementy feel to it. Although we attempted to answer his questions in english, the technician was still speaking pure french to us, which made it a bit difficult for us to communicate. I am admittedly timid and nervous when I get spoken to in french, and instead of asking people if they speak english, I strain my ears as much as I can to catch some words I might know. It works.............sometimes, okay, almost never.

So we are in this little room and he is rolling the roller on my belly occasionally saying things in english such as 'spine' and 'heart' and 'kidneys' and I am straining to see what he is mentioning on this tiny little tv screen that was placed on the wall opposite me, about ten feet away, that I can only assume was for the 'benefit' of the mothers. This combined with the rapid speed in which he was rolling over everything made the whole experience blurry and impossible to decipher. Than a woman popped her head in the room, said something to the technician, and he left abruptly, leaving us wondering if we should stay or go. We sat there (me not having had to hold my urine for the last 2 hours or anything). Waiting. He came back, rushed through the rest, took a couple of pictures of the head, printed them out, told us the doctor would be in to see us momentarily. And so we waited. The doctor arrived 'so what am I hear to look at' he pronounced as he walked in. Ummm..........the baby? It is our first ultrasound. 'Oh I see' he rolled like he had somewhere very important to be, and it wasn't there. He finished, said hi to Rohan and started heading towards the door, 'can we go?', 'yup, you are finished'.

It was magical! We felt.......strange coming out of there, uncomfortable, clinical. At least this wasn't our first time, it would have been very alien and anti climatic. Well it was actually, but we know that is not the norm, and that helps!

Breath

At this very moment I am sat on my front steps listening to the birds singing their songs, the crows even joining into the beautiful harmony of the background. The wind is rustling in the leaves with a sound that has the deceptive equality to the sound of raindrops falling. I can hear the faint sound of a piano being played in the far distance, someone practicing, using their morning to create music for the few that are awake.

Rohan is a small distance ahead of me, playing quietly in the makeshift sandbox that his innovative daddy created from him, his orange shovel being shoved inbetween his toes in an effort to use these unlikely digits to dig in the sand. The frustration of the difficulty he is having written all over his face.

I am quietly typing away at my computer, sipping my coffee, trying not to make too much sound, or too much movement, in order to prevent myself from breaking this spell that has been created so early in the morning. So peaceful, so magical. These are the days that I am truly grateful for all that I have. This is what I can vaguely recall as the dreams I had as a little girl of what my family would feel like. The morning sun peaking over the trees, the beautiful child playing contentfully, the child within, playfully reminding me of its presence with small jolts and punches.

The stresses of my day are not awake yet, sleeping peacefully in my quiet mind. No job to look forward to, nothing to fill my time today but the impending ultrasound. A confirmation that the baby I carry is alive and healthy.

Breath. In and out. breath. The substance of life, something our bodies do for us subconsciously. Something we ignore. I feel like I can finally take the time to enjoy it, to appreciate it, to expand it and to pay attention to it. Breath.

Penis Play

There is a saying that has recently come to mind that goes something like (speaking about boys and their penis's) 'once they grab hold, they never let go'. It is a funny saying, and I have thought to myself that it seemed pretty accurate, boys (men) do seem to have a never ending fascination with their genitalia. Now, however, I fully understand that saying.

Since Rohan discovered this extra appendage, he has been yanking on it as if his life depended on it. At first it was always a surprise to him whenever his hands accidentally came across his family jewels, a very pleasant one indeed, he would linger there for a while, pure delight strewn across his face.

Now that he is older, everything else takes the back seat to his penis play. If he has no diaper on, his hand will very rarely remove itself from his boy bits. If he has to do something with two hands, he may give up the task in favour of a much simpler activity that will require just one hand. He has also now taken to pulling his penis up over his diaper/shorts/pants/tighty whitey's and while yanking it as far out as it can go he makes a loud satisfying pssssssssss noise. He pretends to pee on everything in his wake, Mama, Daddy, the couch, himself, stray animals, stuffed or real...................it is hilarous. How do you not unintentionally provoke that with laughter?

His new thing now, which is just impossible not to encourage with boughts of tear inducing laughter, is his one man 'Puppetry of the Penis' act. He pulls at his penis as far as it will go along the side of his body while claiming' bum'. He is trying to reach his penis all the way to his bum, let me tell you he gets much farther than you would expect from such a small appendage! He does this quite often and with a new reaching goal each time, such as his knee or just as far down his thigh as it can get. I am so glad I have a little boy, he is petty much the greatest!

I am pretty sure he will be a bit angy at the Mommy the day he reads this fateful blog!

The 'incident'

I had an 'incident' with Rohan yesterday that scared the bejessus out of me. It is an occurrence that is so hard to explain without feeling as if perhaps I was just imagining things, or having a case of the severe over reactions.

I think I had mentioned this on a previous post, but it can take Rohan an extra long time to wake up in the fully functioning sense. He is up and out of bed, but for the most part he sits on my lap and just kind of whines a bit until he is ready to face the day. This can take anywhere from 5 minutes to close to half an hour.

Well yesterday was no different, except it was a bit different. He awoke from an hour and a half nap, only to come out into the hallway upstairs and kind of lean his head on his arms against the wall moaning 'no mama' which is of course his usually mutterings when he wakes up. That's fine, nothing out of the ordinary. I bring him downstairs and sit him on my lap and there he sat, inconsolable for ages. Not the usual mutterings or moaning, but some outright tears streaming down his face. There was nothing I could offer him to stop him from crying. It was at this point that I decided it was time to snap him out of it and get the day going. I figured if I changed his diaper and get him dressed again, we could start our afternoon.


Well it was this move that sent him spiraling out of control. I took his diaper off and put it in the garbage and he lost it. Not in the usual toddler 'I am mad at you' sense, but in a very strange eyes glazed over panic attack. He kept trying to get into the garbage to get the diaper back, and it being filled with urn, I was not so inclined to let him grab it. He was just screaming and squirming and losing control. I have never seen him in this state..............ever. I tried to grab him and comfort him and hold him and talk to him, repeating for him to look at me look at me. He looked right through me with a one track mind for that diaper.

After the struggle had been going on for over half an hour I decided to let him grab the diaper out of the garbage. It had offered me the look of an episode that a child with Autism might have, so in my head I decided that maybe the diaper was some sort of comfort device for him. I was also curious about his next move once he had possession of this diaper again, would he try to put it back on, what did he need from it? So in a daze he grabbed the diaper, ran to the couch and lay down in the fetal position sort of rocking, cuddling the diaper and muttering 'no my, no my'. Scary shit right?

I started to talk to him in a calm soothing voice without touching him, as my touch was just making things worse before, so I didn't want to risk him going off and running in a panic again. Eventually I convinced him that the diaper was dirty and that he didn't need to cuddle it anymore. I picked him up, sat him on my lap and started to softly tell him the directions we will have to take to go pick up daddy. Than snap, back to normal, he asked for ice cream I fed it to him and he slurped away content fully, diaper out of sight out of mind.

That is when I cried. Some of the thoughts running through my mind were (as it happens with all moms I am sure) that I messed up my child, my bursts of emotions as of late have become too much for him, or my past with episodes of super sadness have been passed onto him.........I have already messed up my kid, he is just two, and I have another one on the way, what was I thinking. I also though about how I had no idea how I was going to deal with this, this last straw, this last thing of so many things piling up of things I didn't want to deal with, how was I going to be able to handle this one?

He was fine. I took him to the doctor to pick up some papers, and I started to explain the situation to the secretary, and burst into tears. She made me an appointment for Rohan. I went to work to give the papers to the manager (my official I ain't workin' no mo papers) and explained the situation to the kitchen manager (tearless this time, though just barely). She had had a similar experience with her daughter and it turned out to be sleep walking. He had been up for so long that it hadn't occurred to me that was sleeping during the fit. It was actually kind of a relief to hear that, I think I can handle sleep walking a bit better than psychotic episodes, or whatever else it could have been.

Right now, Rohan is fine, but I haven't yet recovered. That was one of the scariest experiences I have had with him so far, feeling completely out of control, not knowing what to do to snap him out of it.................or whether he was going to snap out of it at all. He was like a different child, as if he was possessed, as if he didn't know who I was. God that was awful.

Our precious time together

I was going to use this blogging opportunity to bitch and complain about how unbelievably complicated they have to make it to move to Quebec and officially become a resident............grrrr it is so frustrating, but I have much more pressing things to talk about. Like my cuddle monster.

I have come to realize how much I take for granted how loving and affectionate Rohan is. At times I even consider it overwhelming to my space how much he needs to be attached to me, physically, all the time. I cannot even leave the room to go to the bathroom without Rohan following me in tears. I often sit on the toilet with Rohan sitting on my lap, this is a skill that I have learned to master since his infancy!

But, overall, I love it. I love his cuddles and his kisses, his coming up behind me and giving big random hugs. He is more able to express his love than I can, and it is beautiful. Which gets me to worrying about what will happen when we have another dependent to love. They say that a child's memory does not truly start to form until sometime after their second year, so chances are he is not going to remember all of these special times that we shared these last two years, just me and him. He won't remember any of this me and him stuff, so in the end he may not actually miss it. But I will remember it, and thinking about it makes me start to pre-miss it.

For the last two years (plus pregnancy of course) Rohan has been the centre of my universe. He comes first, everything and everybody comes after. Sorry Colin, I grew him, he wins. We have had all of our special times, together, just the two of us. I have watched him grow and develop and become a strong independent little man. He has watched me grow and develop and become a strong independent mom. We have shared, we have cried, we have kissed each others tears away, we have sat cuddling on the couch for an accumulation of hours together, chatting or not. When he comes into the room in the morning, we spoon and sleep. I am nervous about losing that special time with him. ( can you believe my eyes are actually getting misty right now............frick!)

It is hard to imagine allowing anyone to compromise our time. Ever. Me and him are a team. But already I am not able to offer him all of me. I am tired, a lot less tolerant, moody, sporadic acts of tear are starting to become commonplace. I need to be alone more. It kind of sucks really. I just to keep reminding myself to bask in the glory of this beautiful child, enjoy this time that we have together and don't let it get away not matter how busy I am with the new baby. Rohan will still need mama, maybe even more than ever at that point. Oh man, I can only imagine the waterworks of him not needing me anymore........................oh wait, what boy/man doesn't need their mother!! Yay for boys!

Pure Bliss my friends

I have this insatiable appetite for alone time. I just want to be surrounded by no one. Me, the trees, the water, only the sounds of nature and the clip clop of my computer........okay, I guess I could omit the computer this once!

I have started to wake up earlier than the boys in the morning, just have a few moments to myself. I check my email with out anyone banging on the keyboard to get my attention (and Rohan gets pretty angry as well.........hey hoooo), maybe write a new blog (oh lord I am addicted), or just sit and sip a hot beverage and listen to the sounds of the house. It just never seems to be enough time though.

There was a time in my life when I felt that I had too much alone time, when I would have loved to have more people, places, activities to fill my day. I only vaguely remember that feeling.

When Rohan was a baby I always had this overwhelming guilt whenever I left him at home with papa to have my own time. Guilt mixed with a sort of emptiness, a bareness, a nakedness and a huge fullness (the tata's of course!). I knew, I could just feel, that he was crying for me, and in most situations that was the actual case, which enhanced the guilt. These days I only leave him to go to work, which insights a whole new bundle of emotions and feelings.

I have my yoga once a week, and in so many ways, this has saved me and my sanity. I spend an hour with other pregnant moms in a nice zen atmosphere stretching and strengthening my ever expanding body. I have gradually been leaving the house earlier and earlier to sneak in so more and more alone time before the class starts. As I run out to the van with the soft sound of Rohan's cries blowing in the wind I feel this (ridiculous) giddiness. My heart starts beating like mad, I get flush and short of breath, as if I am getting away with something or I am heading on an adventure of a lifetime. What the end result of this mad dash out of the house is is parking outside of the yoga centre and reading for half an hour. I pull in, push my seat way back, roll down the windows, dangle my feet out and read. It is bliss my friends, pure bliss!

I have an up coming glucose test at the the birthing centre which will consist of my drinking a highly concentrated glucose beverage and sitting around waiting a couple of hours until it hits the blood stream, than getting my blood taken. Pretty mundane and boring right? Not for me! I will have to find someone to watch Rohan for that time as there is no way he will tolerate that much time inside the midwife's waiting room. This means I have to go alone. And wait. For hours. Nothing to do. Literally a dream vacation for me!! And that is how exciting my life has gotten!

Super Mom

I have made the decision to stop working much earlier this time around. I have many mixed emotions about it. I have come to realize a necessity I have that requires me to be a super mom, or just a super person. I will myself to keep going, to come home from work, do all the laundry for work, do our laundry, fill the dishwasher, empty the dishwasher, make dinner, entertain Rohan the whole time, give Rohan a bath, start up the nightly routine, lay with Rohan until he falls asleep (yup bad habit that is getting harder to break), than I try to sneak some alone time in playing on the computer (that I am pretty sure Colin sends me a resentful eye the whole time I am on it).

But I find I do the same thing while at work. I always refuse to take a slow side of the restaurant, rarely ask for help and end up going like crazy for 6 hours straight. I cannot prevent myself from working to hard, as if I have to prove that I can still do it even though I am pregnant. I think it is a stubbornness that has run in my family for generations of women..................or is it just women in general? Is this a gender thing that forces us to feel as if we must prove that little things such as creating life won't hinder us in our everyday accomplishments? Set our natural emotions aside, keep your head down and keep on trucking.

For the most part I have been delaying the departure from work. It makes me feel like a cop out, like a wimp, like I just can't hack what so many other women, mothers can and have done for years. Hold a job(part time even, sheesh woman get it together), take care of the house, take care of the two year old and the thirty year old, and the bills etc etc. On most days I don't do much, I come up with stuff to fill my days and get me out of the house. But on those work days, I feel like I am going non stop and fall exhausted into bed when I get home (or do the above activities with Rohan and the house, depending on when I get home and how much needs to get done).

I push myself, and I forget that it is not just myself that I have to worry about. My health, stamina, energy levels is all key the health of the child within and without. Working too hard makes me a very unfun mom that is for sure. Priorities, these are the things that parenthood is made of!

Oh yeah, I'm pregnant..........

There has already been so many things that I have done differently during this pregnancy. My focus on my pregnancy has been cut in half compared to my first one. I read and read and read some more about the fazes and stages involved in each new week of my pregnancy, where my baby was at, where I was at, the changes taking place for both of us. I could tell you how pregnant I was to the day at any given time. My almost walking on eggshells feeling during my first pregnancy is almost nil this time, to a point of occasionally lifting too heavy of a bag, carrying Rohan for unnecessary distances, or going for too long without eating.

I had so much time to think about being pregnant last time that I managed to constantly eat (I actually mean constantly, rarely was I seen with no food in my mouth or hands). I religiously looked up the details of what we can and cannot consume during pregnancy to make sure I wasn't poisoning my unborn child (as a vegan at the time, there is pretty much nothing you cannot eat really............). I made very good, healthy choices for the most part (aside from my addiction to dark chocolate covered almonds, though this time around my now midwife has informed my that they are packed full of iron, so go for it...........I love that woman!). I completely omitted caffeine from my diet and was careful not to do any yoga that was not on a pre-natal video.

These days are of a different time. I have very little time to think about my pregnancy, and until now, at 20 extra pounds (my god my body just basks in gaining weight!) I often forgot that I was pregnant for short periods of time. I have a pregnancy ticker thingy on Facebook that informs me of how many weeks I am, otherwise I would find out every 6 weeks when I went to visit the Midwife! I drink a cup of coffee a day sometimes two (gasp). It is unreal how much finger wagging and odd stares I get when I proclaim my indulgence. Crazy! Though it is mostly from people who have never been, and in some cases (men, what the what?) never will be pregnant. I lift, I occasionally do pilates (pre-natal) and yoga it up! I eat ice cream....often, and other such junk foody type things. I am living it up yo, the high life.

I have also found this time around that I am more likely to pamper myself. I go out for coffee a couple of times a week with Rohan (he loves it!! Not coffee of course, sheesh) I have purchased more clothing during this pregnancy than I have purchased in an accumulation of years! I have even signed up for pre-registered pre-natal yoga classes, twice, at a fairly up there cost. I feel as if it may be my subconscious reminding me that my time, and I mean that in the literal 'me' time sense, will be coming to a temporary close soon. I will have two little people that will need me more than I will need myself for the next couple of years. Pampering will have to slow down, and in some cases stop completely for a while. This honeymoon period of pregnancy, where it is all about me (well not quite so much so this time around of course, what with a 2 year old trying for the limelight!) will be gone, I will be forgotten and the beautiful new addition to our family will take the focus.
Yup, here we go again! Whew, I think I may be crapping my pants here!!

The business of being born

I had come to Wakefield to visit my sweet sister-in-law, my brother and my handsome new nephew January 2009. Julian was 1 month old and Rohan was about 8 months old. While we were here we went to a local bar called the Black Sheep to watch a movie called 'Orgasmic Birth'. They do that here in the winter time when it turns into a ghost town, possibly to give people a reason to brave the cold and get out of the house!

Anyway, I don't completely remember the content of the movie, I just recall the emphasis on the benefits to mom and babe with a natural birth and our cultures (North America) emphasis on speeding up the process and getting it done in time for the end of your shift. There were several mom's and babies there and at the end of the movie they gathered for a bit to discuss how they felt about the the movie and their own birthing experiences. I just wanted to hide in a dark corner and cry.

I don't talk about my birthing experience very freely. When asked (depending on the person asking) I generally say that it didn't happen how I had intended it to, or if it is someone a bit more trusted or more interested, I may also insert a small voiced 'it was a nightmare'. But, in all honesty I have attempted to my best ability to put the whole experience behind me and appreciate the outcome of a beautiful and healthy child.

Then, a couple of day's ago now, I watched a film called 'The Business of Being Born'. It pinpointed so much of the negativity that I had been holding onto about my birthing experience, and it really opened my eyes to so many repercussions of the Ceasarian section. I would never claim that it is an unnecessary surgery in such cases that the child or mother are in danger, I am truly grateful for it's easy availability in such scary situations. But what about for the rest of us?
I was in no danger, Rohan was just chillaxing in the old birth canal, heart rate steady and normal. But my time in the hospital was running out, it was the end of the day, and Rohan was staying put. That's it. He was facing my hip which might have made it a bit more difficult, but not impossible. He was HUGE, but his head was a pretty normal size...................what gives?

If I was in the right frame of mind I would have demanded to be allowed to push for the rest of the night. I would have done it. It just wasn't an option for me, and that is such a strange concept that the control of my labour, my birth, my body was passed onto the professionals. And to this day I still feel traumatized by the experience, traumatized by the miracle of birth? How is that possible? It is supposed to be beautiful, magical, an instant bonding with this little person that grew inside of me for 9 (10) months. It hurts (oh so bad) it takes a long time, and at times, it can scar you physically for life, mama wounds, I can live with that! But not on the inside.

Anyhow, the movie made me feel an outrage to the system. This feeling of having had something taken away from me is very much faded, but not completely gone. I don't love my child less, I am no less greatful towards all the rewards that motherhood has been offering to me for the last two years. I just feel like those precious first moments were removed from my experience, Drug induced, delusional, almost indifferent to the infant they plopped onto my breast hours later, and unaware of what was happening is not how I imagined it would be.

Gaseous Maximus

I had a pinnacle realization the other day. I was hanging out with the Ro-Dog, as per usual, and I couldn't help but notice that he was seriously gassy. Like running farts, jumping farts, and just sitting quietly in the couch and farting. I spent a couple minutes making a list in my head of all the things that I had eaten that day to come up the with culprit for my sons digestive distress. And only then, after 2 years of motherhood, did I realize that it did not matter what I ate, as none of it could possibly affect Rohan's windy days. Rohan wasn't breastfeeding anymore, nor was he anywhere near living in my womb anymore. I finally realized that he was his very own separate person.

All this time I hadn't realized that I had still considered him, at least in a small bit, a part of me. My food and beverage consumption is no longer something that he suffers the consequences of, just me! How is it that I did not come to this conclusion as soon as he weaned himself? Or even days after..............but months? Is this my personal form of attachment parenting, not allowing a full independence, even subconsciously?

I have read a serious amount of baby books in this short stint of mommyland that I have lived in, one of them being 'The scientist in the crib' and it offers information on the instant and growing intelligence of your infant. There is a part that explain that your child does not understand that he is a separate being from you, that he is his own person. You are him and he is you. This realization comes later in life, maybe in the toddler years? So I wonder, did Rohan recently have the same epiphany that I did? How did that make him feel? Glad to be rid of this overprotective mom (sob) a little scared of his own, growing, independence?

Me? A little sad actually, I really enjoyed and basked in the knowledge that my body was developing in order to sustain my infant, than child and, for a little while, my toddler. He actually lived off of the sustenance that my body produced just for him. I know that I still provide him with meals and shelter and love love love, but that little bit of time that we had together, sharing, exploring, being...........it was beautiful. I kind of miss that sense of connection, that closeness. Ahhhhhh maybe that is why Moms keep on having babies, to get that baby feeling back!! Uh Oh, trouble town!

'boob'

I had the most interesting and unusual morning with Rohan today. I LOVE morning time with Rohan, sometimes it takes him a while to get used the fact that it is morning time, so we spend a few minutes (or more, depending n his temperament) cuddling on the couch. Well this morning, we were doing just that, chatting about cereal or cats or sweet dreams, when he suddenly had it in his head that he wanted some mama milk. Rohan essentially weaned himself off of the the boob several months ago, close to 5 months I would guess.

This got me to thinking about Rohan's developing feelings towards becoming a big brother. Is it possible that he is grasping the inevitable decline in our time alone together? He seems too young to get that there will be a small infant jeopardizing the majority of my free time. And how did this suddenly come about, his desire for mama milk? We have had baths together consistently without even a second glance, aside from one time he decided to pour water over it , laughing and saying 'boob'. Strange indeed!

We have attempted to introduce to him the fact that there is a baby coming. He has come to all of my midwife appointments so far. He actually hates being in the office, but loves the doppler. He get's so excited about hearing the baby's heart beat. He points to my belly and proclaims a very loud and excited "ba boom ba boom' while patting his chest.

He now has a favourite stuffed animal, a mouse that my friend Rebecca has bought for him when he was a baby. We started to call the mouse the baby and have attempted to treat him as such. Rohan and I wrap him up in a blanket and make him burp. I have even made him cry in the most annoying way to get him used to the sound! And of course offered him (the baby, not Rohan) mama milk. It is a game that he really did love to play, though we haven't done it in a while. Oh man, I just remembered, we also have the mouse sit on the potty and take poops!! haha plop plop! Oh the things you will do to help you children understand new things!!

No my, No yeah, No Way........

Rohan has developed a verbal explosion over the last couple of months which has been super exciting. It is amazing to watch them go from grunt and point (or sign in this case) to actually verbalizing their needs. I LOVE IT. Though with this verbal explosion came an instant single negative whether the statement or question was meant to be in a negative context. Pretty much everything her says starts off with a no. Here a few of my new all time favourite things to hear during the day: No my (no mine, pretty easy), No Yeah (which is for EVERYTHING, example: Mama Bird: Rohan don't throw food on the floor please Rohan: No yeah pointing heatedly at the floor indicating that there is exactly where Mama's home cooked meal belongs............harsh!), No way and Go away.

Now let me go a bit deeper into the 'go away' that I am oh so fond of hearing day in and day out. Written down it seems harsh and rude, but not so with Rohan. His 'go away' has more of a Red Hot Chili Peppers sound to it (give it away give it away give it away now) and it is almost never put into a context that would be hurtful. I have a sneaking suspicion that it is more sounds than word for him and he often breaks out with a 'go away' song when playing with his guys (little lego men that he has named all guy or 'die' as he lovingly refers to them). I think he likes the the way the words just roll off his tongue, it is pretty humourous stuff, I should really try catching him when he busts out his impassioned 'go away' songs.................god he is cute, it kills me!

The ultimate though, is his 'no mama'. He loves his mama that is for sure. Even when I am standing right in front of him he is yelling 'NO MAMA", and I have actually come to look down at him, or crouch down, look him straight in the eye and say ' Rohan, I am literally right here in front of you, I mean literally Rohan, right here, dude, I mean right here..........' And I waited so long and so patiently for him to finally say Mama, bah they were all right!! haha (okay I still get secret smiles of pride hearing the mama's, it is a mind blower my friends, that first mama...........whew).

Some words that he is developing are hilarious like 'boob', where did that come from? He points and with a smile of ultimate pride spreading across his little innocent face he exclaims 'boob' this can be mistaken for poop also, so you have to really confirm to make sure he isn't planning on pooping on the floor! Oh the the no diaper + pooping stories that I have stored up in my medicine cabinet of 'one day I will become a comedian' memory!!!!

I love this language thing he is figuring out, he is so proud of himself every time he comes up with a new word with a loud expressive 'yeah' and two thumbs up! High fives and props all around!! I guess we are heading into a new territory of toddlerhood........whatwoh!!

The stuff to make it work

Here I am at a new journey in life, diving into the depths of the unknown, thinking to myself 'self, what have you gotten yourself into?' Am I ready for this step, am I prepared enough, emotionally, for what is to come? Do I feel confident and secure enough in myself to be comfortable with this life choice that I have made?

I am both nervous and excited, slightly panicked, but in a surreal calm. I must repeat to myself that I did this with intent, it was not something I just stumbled upon, but something I had to work at to create. I am not alone, there are many like me out there, I have met them, and they seem quite happy with their decision.

I am in it now, there is no turning back. My life with be forever changed. I am ready, here we go..................Hi ho hi ho it is off to blogging I go! (I never would have imagined those word would ever be uttered by my lips!)

I had a difficult time deciding what faucet of my life I would most like to start a blog about. My career, knitting, yoga, relationship, the life of an anglo living in Quebec (actually pretty interesting stuff) or, of course, motherhood. I considered my options, for approximately 10 seconds, until I settled on motherhood. What else could it be really? This motherhood thing has redefined me, made me open my eyes to so much more beauty and simplicity and innocence, and closed my eyes to images I don't need, horror movies, books with some disturbing content, loud, aggressive, angry music. I have essentially become a classic parent. I get it now. And I love it......mostly.

We have been going through a major heat wave and I am pregnant, (almost 6 months) working inside the hottest restaurant EVER (oh yes and the temp is pretty high up there too, hay hoooo) as a server, and spending my days inside the house running around after my naked (clothing is overrated) 2 year old. Days like these ones and I would like to hang up my motherhood jacket (temporarily of course) and sleep in front of a fan for a couple of weeks (with pee and food breaks inevitably). But just when you feel like you can not take it any more, you have the most beautiful little man curl up beside you, look you right in the eye, and plant a big sweaty kiss on your lips. And that is how motherhood feels most of the time. Like love.

This is a love your heart has never felt before. My heart is literally swelling thinking about this love I have, and will always have, embedding inside of me like a tattoo. I already feel this love interrupting my thoughts with the little kicks of internal abuse. A baby I haven't met, but have already fallen head over heals over. Yup, motherhood, whew, but I think I'll keep it!