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