i move.i muse.i morph

A Dairy Situation

2012-02-09T13:11:00.000-07:00

I have a strange relationship with Past-Annette. While I can criticize her very quietly and gently in the dark recesses of my mind, the rest of my brain is oddly protective of even her most reprehensible decisions. I cherish a great deal of her experiences, however. I mean really cherish them. If they were material objects, I would be on Hoarders. The upside of that would be, I'd finally get to wear a moo-moo. We all mock that article of clothing, but be honest, it looks reeaaaaally comfortable. Let's all move to Hawaii and wear nothing but moo-moos and bathing suits.

(Aside: Does using the term "bathing suit" make me sound like I was born during the Depression?)

(Aside to that Aside: Lil G curses like he was born during the Great Depression. I have caught him saying, "Sugarmuffin!" on numerous occasions. Oh yeah, he just made that bad boy up. In the words of MLC, "It's better than him cursing the way his mother does--like a sailor!" Wait--I'm his mother. I don't curse like a sailor. MLC's exaggerating. End all Asides.)

Sometimes I wish I could take the confidence and good sense Annette-in-her-30's has and give it to Past-Annette. But then I would have been one of those oddly self-assured children who tend to make other kids, not to mention the adults around them, uncomfortable. Sure, those kids grow up to be multi-millionaires but....Yeah, yeah....I'd like to be a multi-millionaire. I do wish I could FedEx those qualities to a younger me. They aren't a novelty right now--pretty much everyone has their respective sh*t sorted out by this point.

*

In this next segment, you may think I'm about to open a can of worms. You see, the media has teamed up with extremists to make us believe there is some sort of "Mom War" going on. As far as I can tell, most moms just want to make the decisions they feel are right for their own children and let other moms do the same. But every six months or so, there's a new study about how full-time working moms raise juvenile delinquents or part-time working moms raise juvenile delinquents or stay-at-home moms raise juvenile delinquents...yawn. Anyway, before I talk about my own experience, feel free to give yourself a hug, take a Xanax and know that I'm totally cool with whatever decisions you are making as a parent.

Got that out of the way? Good.

I stay-at-home with my kids, full-time. I'm happy to do this and happy to be in a position where this is possible. My job (if you don't think this is "work," you're seriously delusional) has its ups and downs just like anyone else's. At some point during the day, I'm fulfilled and brimming with joy. A mere five minutes later, I can be saying in my most restrained voice to a maniacal child, "I'm very frustrated right now and this is why..." and checking the clock to see when MLC will be home to give me much needed fellow adult time. Other times bounce between all of the emotions you likely feel during the day as well. But, as I stated earlier, I don't want to change my situation. It's ideal for me and my family members. I wake up in the morning happy with where I am and what my day may bring.

That said, there are still a lot of things I would like to accomplish outside of my mama role. I know I likely won't accomplish all of the things on my wish list, but I plan on doing my best. I have two concerns about Future-Annette:

1. This precious and much coveted "free time" (a misnomer, yes) will never happen. As my children age, I will remain this busy, just in different ways. The only way I will be able to pursue my goals will be to let my other roles in life slide.

2. By the time I'm ready to go get 'em, I will be viewed by the world the way one looks at expired yogurt in the fridge: It says it's expired, but it still smells okay and isn't yogurt bacteria anyway? Uh...I'm not sure I want to take a chance on past-its-prime dairy.

Some of the best life advice I've ever received came when I was still living in E-town and rather unhappy with my work situation. A friend and mentor told me to make room in my life for the things that I want. I suppose my best course of action is to make teeny tiny goals and try to carve out a teeny tiny amount of time during the week to start achieving those goals. Or I could take a nap. Damn, these decisions!!!

White People Problems

2012-02-02T14:23:00.002-07:00

Here's a new segment to welcome you all back after a long hiatus of laziness and vitamin D soaking-in--iness. It's called, Unexpected Celebrity Quotes I Identified With This Week. And here's this week's featured quote:

"If I'm not between a 3 and a 7 on the emotional scale, I'm crying."

Me too, Kristen Bell, me too. Let's be friends.

*

Speaking of celebs, remember a couple of weeks ago when Charles Barkley hosted a surprisingly funny and entertaining episode of SNL? One of the more amusing sketches was "White People Problems." Look it up. Enjoy.

....

Are you back? Did you watch it for the first time/refresh your memory? Well, here are actual things I heard a white person say recently that I thought would fit nicely into that sketch:

"My masseuse really hurt me with that deep tissue massage this morning! It was almost as painful as childbirth!"

"Planning this trip to Hawaii is stressing me out!!!"

First of all, I am in Scottsdale, Arizona, which is a natural place to hear exasperations such as the ones above. But I feel I owe you some honesty...Both of those quotes came out of my mouth.

In my defence (or "defense," depending on where you hail from,) that masseuse had hands that could be categorized as medieval torture devices! What, did she have maces attached to her wrists?! And have you ever had a deep tissue massage?! Thirty seconds in, I wanted to swat her away and, in my best "mom voice", firmly tell her, "NO! NO. Gentle touch. Be soft."

As for the Hawaii thing...

...Okay, I'm insufferable. No more defences (read: excuses. Or defenses.) You should probably start rethinking our friendship. I know you'll come crawling back, baby--I mean, babies. All of you. Let's do lunch.

Marry Me....Mommy.

2012-01-19T12:04:00.002-07:00

My 2 1/2 year-old boy proposed to me recently. After he asked me if I was married to Daddy and I said "yes", he responded by saying, "I can marry you!" I tried explaining to him that you don't marry your mommy, you marry a friend whom you love. He was still quite adamant about marrying me. It was quite adorable.

But, for the record, at what age does wanting to marry your mommy cease to be darling and become worrisome?

*

MLC: I wish I were Mark Wahlberg.

Me: But then we'd be Catholic and have four kids.

MLC: I take it back.

(Disclaimer: This is in no way a dig at Catholics or at people who have four children. MLC and I would be terrible Catholics--we have enough guilt in our lives as it is--and we are definitely not cut out for more kidlets than we already have. It's the price you pay to be debilitatingly neurotic.)

*

Speaking of guilt...

Rank the worst kinds of guilt, from most extreme to the most manageable:

- Catholic Guilt

- Mormon Guilt

- Motherhood Guilt

- The Guilt You Feel When You're Being Inexcusably Lazy

- Bad Friend Guilt

*

I gotta go--apparently Lil G and I are playing "dentist". It involves him forcing a straw into my mouth and pretending to put fillings in my teeth. Toddlers are weird.

Semi-Coherence

2012-01-16T13:36:00.001-07:00

I'm too tired to put together too many complete sentences. Here's what you get in the meantime...

- Little Miss puked again last night. Day 8? Day 9?

- I miss sleep. More than I've missed anyone in my whole life.

- MLC astutely pointed out last night, as we watched Elle MacPherson on the Golden Globes, that supermodels tend to be on the attractive side of the spectrum.

- Some of you may know that Lil G doesn't have an imaginary friend, he has an imaginary Army of Graysons. Yes, he named an entire army after himself. Recently, he was found standing on the couch with his tool box in hand yelling, "GRAYSONS! THERE'S WORK TO BE DONE!" He and his fellow Graysons then proceeded to "fix" various items around the house.

- More recently, Lil G picked up his toy saxophone, started playing a really lovely (I use that adjective loosely) tune, then turned to me happily proclaiming, "The Graysons are dancing!!!"

- I leave for AZ in a week. I may have cried on the phone to my dad today as a direct result of not sleeping for over a week and now my mom might be coming back for a day or two so she can fly with me and the two little ones on Sunday. Am I a coward for not attempting a flight with a 2.5-year old and a 7-month old by myself? I'm too exhausted to care what the answer to that question is. Keep your opinions to yourself, I'm feeling fragile. I'm a shell of my former, somewhat well rested self. The self who wasn't catching baby vomit in a blanket every night.

- I joined Twitter for five days. Steve Martin nearly swayed me into staying, but in the end I decided Twitter is not for me and toys with my psyche too much. Plus, I'm old (in my head) and don't really get it.

- After reading Scar Tissue and now My Booky Wook, I have a tip for keeping your children out of rehab: Don't buy them drugs and prostitutes. Especially when they aren't even legal adults. Life lessons are everywhere, fair readers.

Welcome to the Pity Party. Can I take your coats?

2012-01-11T13:26:00.000-07:00

Day 1, Less Than 3 Hours of Sleep Due to Sick Kidlets: My poor little darlings won't stop coughing and have this pesky stomach virus. We'll have lots of cuddles today and stay home. Gosh! I'm just a wee bit sleepy!

Day 2, Less Than 1 Hour of Sleep Due to Sick Kidlets: Oy. Pretty tired this morning. My poor kids. My poor me.

Day 3, Less Than 2 Hours of Sleep Due to Sick Kidlets: [Insert string of expletives. They need not be clever or articulate.]

Didn't know you RSVP'd to my pity party, did ya?

Noticing we were out of food and I haven't watched enough Chopped episodes to be able to create meals out of Cheerios, a jar of baby food peas, mayonnaise, and a gallon of skim milk, I decided to head out to the grocery store.

On the way there, the Little Miss puked. Those of you without children might imagine I turned the car around and went immediately home. Those of you with children know that I cleaned her up as best I could with wipes, put her in the wrap, grabbed cranky Lil G and did all of my grocery shopping for the remainder of the week smelling like baby vomit.

At this point of fatigue, with only the cacophony of wee ones coughing, having diarrhea and the occasional ralph to keep me company, I kind of want to sit in the middle of the hallway and weep. But as a mama, you gotta rally. And I've decided Sugar-Free Red Bull is better than Middle of the Hallway Weeping*.

*Actually, Sugar-Free Red Bull is one of the most putrid substances ever to have touched my palate, but I figure chugging it with a straw just might get me through the afternoon.

Thanks for coming to my Pity Party. Let's shut 'er down.

*

Lillith - If my blog were Jezebel's entertaining feminist website, you would have won Comment of the Day for your gem on my last entry. Not because you wrote the only comment, but because it made me laugh.

Madvertising

2012-01-06T06:38:00.003-07:00

The Little Miss received her first 'princess' gift recently. It was inevitable. She's a girl and, though she's only 7-months old, the princess culture has permeated the entire western civilization.

The gift itself is a puppet, who resembles Janice from the Muppets, that you can dress up with different wigs, gowns, and jewelry. Aside from being completely age-inappropriate for the next year and a half, I don't take issue with the item itself. My problem is with the packaging. The company that made the doll is one of which I'm a big fan. Melissa & Doug make some pretty great artisan-style toys that Lil G has enjoyed.

With all that in mind, let me tell you the captions written on the side of the box:

"Blondes have more fun..." (presumably for when you feel like putting the Princess Janice Puppet in the blonde wig and want to really cut loose)

"But brunettes rule!" (for when you put the brown wig on the puppet and would like to feel intellectually superior)

As if that isn't bad enough, the caption at the bottom reads:

"Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest at the mall?"

Barf.

First of all, let's stop perpetuating competition between girls. They do enough of it on their own and it often takes them decades to realize the value of female friendships. This whole hair colour stereotyping is not clever, it holds no kernel of truth, and is quite boring.

Secondly, stop encouraging girls to be vain shells who just totally want to hang out at the mall and talk insincerely about who is prettier. (Disclaimer: MLC and I go to the mall almost every weekend. In our defence, we live in a cold city and we are geriatrics at the soul who just like a good indoor walk.)

This is the kind of stuff that keeps me awake at night...Okay, actually the Little Miss keeps me awake at night as she occasionally feels the need to wake up, bellow just to see how loud she can project, and then go back to sleep. This marketing stuff just annoys me.

I expect more from you, Melissa & Doug. Do better.

My foray into the deep 'burbs of this city continues to be a successful venture. I actually hang out with my neighbours and I actually enjoy it. So far no one is sleeping with anyone else's spouse, no one seems to be harbouring a secret penchant for cocaine and no one seems to be fighting the deep closet of homophobia and masking it by making more and more babies with their husband/wife. Thanks for the false advertising, cable television. It all seems to be cookies and playdates over here. That said, I'll keep you all posted in case things get more salacious.

Justin and the Forbidden Fruit

2012-01-03T13:40:00.005-07:00

When Justin Timberlake's first solo album, Justified, came out, I was too cool to admit I liked it. Now that I'm older, wiser, and not as easily embarrassed, I'm willing to tell you that I've secretly been wanting that album for years. MLC/Santa put it in my stocking this year.

There's the obvious appeal of lines like, "Gonna have you naked by the end of this song", but for my money, I'll take "Like I Love You" for the win. Also known as, "Please have sex with me, Britney Spears. Pretty please?" I appreciate that during the rap portion of the song, Justin takes a break from trying to talk his way into his girlfriend's pants to proclaim (in the background), "I just love your braaaaaains!"

When I was sixteen, I had a boyfriend who tried to seduce me by whining, "Come on! Everybody's doing it!" I wish I had known at the time how hilarious that argument actually is and laughed in his face. Instead we just broke up. He should have tried telling me how much he loved my "braaaaains." And then sang falsetto for a good three minutes. It worked on Britney... Lucky for my marriage, MLC knows how much ladies like myself love a good falsetto. We've got two kids to prove it.

Seven. No, not that freaky Brad Pitt movie where he ends up with Gwyneth Paltrow's head in a box.

2011-12-29T15:46:00.005-07:00

No, I've never seen the movie Seven Year Itch and, yes, it bothers me that it isn't called, Seven-Year Itch, but I understand the premise. And you want to know what I think? Marriage gets better with age. MLC and I are celebrating our seventh anniversary today and neither one of us would even consider stepping out on the other person because:

a) An affair just smacks of effort. If I'm heading to a hotel on the opposite side of town in the middle of the day, it's to have an uninterrupted nap.

b) (and more importantly) The more MLC and I get to know each other, the more we seem to like each other. The more we get to know each other, the more we drive each other crazy as well, but that's beside the point (Hey, MLC, want to spend an hour picking out the perfect apple with me in the produce section of the grocery store? What's that? You'd rather bang your head against a wall, repeatedly???)

As I reflected on the past year, it occurred to me that year six of our marriage was spent with me as a crazy pregnant woman who wrote ranting letters to my alderman and the local newspaper in the middle of the night, followed by me as an overtired crazy postpartum woman who could barely find the time to shower. Now that both my kids are champion sleepers and I've somehow figured out how to vacuum the entire house in one day while still finding the time to wash my hair, I'm ready to declare year seven to be The Best Year Yet.

Although year six was fraught with nuttiness, there were still some lovely moments. Let's reflect on those, shall we?

1. MLC and I took a secret weekend trip to Vegas where I very nearly went into labor. Instead of rushing to a hospital, we played slot machines until my contractions became too intense and then went upstairs to watch a movie and try to calm my uterus.

2. I pushed a giant, gorgeous baby girl out of me and completed our neurotic little family.

3. MLC and I left kids 1 & 2 (with my parents, not by themselves...yeesh), and took another secret trip to Vegas for a whopping 24-hours. We enjoyed delicious food, adult conversation, and nickle slot gambling.

4. We watched Lil G become a non-stop talking, uber-creative little boy who has enough MLC traits to delight me and make me nervous all at the same time...

5. Tonight we have our first date in months. I have no doubt it will be a celebration of love and gluttony. Wait--technically this date will be a "year seven moment" not a "year six moment". All right... [insert your own favourite year six MLC/me moment here]

Happy Anniversary, MLC!

Jorn on the Job

2011-12-22T13:49:00.003-07:00

Careers I Wanted To Pursue As A Child That Simply Did Not Work Out (no pun intended):

1. Getaway Driver for ragtag, but loveable, group of wacky bank robbers.

2. Clothing Designer for Barbie

3. SNL Cast Member (This was my greatest desire as an eleven-year old)

4. Movie Star

5. Writer (My most acclaimed novella as a five-year old was entitled I am Adapted--an unfortunate error as the story was about how I was "adopted." I wasn't, by the way, but sometimes when you're being tortured by your siblings, you don't want to think of them as blood relations.)

Jobs I've Had, Despite Lacking Key Qualifications:

1. Floral Designer (I may be exaggerating my title--I was more like a Scut Monkey for a fancy flower shop and was a terrible employee with no artistic floral flair. I may have been fired if the owner were not friends with my parents.)

2. Interior Designer for Home & Garden Shows (Proving I can BS my way through almost anything.)

3. Background Model for an oversees ad campaign (I may have been the fattest one on the set, but the real models were totally jealous of my boobs.)

4. Interviewer/Writer for a weekly newspaper (Once again, proving my ability to BS my way through tasks. In the interest of full-disclosure, I only wrote one piece, but that was because I didn't pursue any more as I had a high-maintenance baby at the time.)

5. Babysitter (As the youngest of four kidlets, I had zero experience with children and was terrified of them for most of my life. Whenever I was hired as a babysitter in my youth, I would rarely get repeat customers. One particular gem of an evening ended in two precious boys yelling, "I HATE YOU!" from their bunkbeds. Lucky for my own babies, I was able to hone my child rearing skills on my sisters' offspring.)

Jobs I Would Still Like To One Day Attempt:

1. Playwright (I had a one act produced years ago and have a few more scripts bouncing around in my nearly brain-dead head.)

2. Graduate Student (What? This isn't a job?)

3. Director of a Fringe Play (This one can easily go hand-in-hand with #1)

4. Professional Cookie Eater (I've been flirting with this one all week, I just need someone to pay me for my hard work.)

5. TV Reviewer (No, no--I don't want to review the latest technology in televisions. I want to receive a paycheck for watching shows then writing my endless opinions about them. I find jobs that you can do while wearing jammies, whether or not this particular job exists, very appealing.)

Break on through to the dorky side

2011-12-21T13:49:00.005-07:00

Someone I have known forever but have not seen for years recently shared her opinion of how to raise a toddler. I found half of it to be valid and the other half ridiculous, so I wrote a snarky response for this blog. I stopped myself before I published it. Why? Because I'm so sick of parents telling each other how to parent. Her decisions may be right for her family, but they are not right for mine and I resented her self-righteousness--especially since this is not an isolated incident with her. However, a sarcastic retort is also self-righteous, so I chose to back away slowly. Merry Christmas. Here's a different blog entry instead.

Another reason why I love The Burbs:

Across the street lives a woman I went to junior high and high school with, but didn't know very well. She has a boy and a girl the same age as my boy and girl. The six of us have become fast friends. We're still in the early stages, and you know as well as I do that making other mom & kid friends is like dating, but things look good.

However...

She DOES live across the street, which means I really can't eff this up without facing years of awkwardness. How long does one wait before exposing one's dorky side?

A List of My Recent Cliche Mom Moments

1. The "They Grow Up So Fast" Mom Cliche

Lately I find myself staring at Lil G, amazed at how he's grown. This amazement quickly turns to a lump in my throat and the words, "My baby's getting so big!" float around my head as I imagine him going off to preschool in the spring then elementary then blah blah blah. This is karma for rolling my eyes at my own dear mother's emotional responses to mundane milestones in my life.

2. The "Weird Sentimental Attachment" Mom Cliche

Almost a year ago, Lil G began throwing fits at our favourite child-centric hair salon. MLC and I put off getting his locks chopped until my father started referring to his grandchild as the IRA Terrorist. We then chose to keep the meltdown contained in the comfort of our own home and MLC shaved Lil G's head. For reasons understood only by other wacky parents, we collected those ginger curls and put them in a ziploc bag, which we left in the drawer of the guest bathroom. After another recent haircut, I added to the ziploc bag, prompting this conversation:

MLC: Why did you put his hair in that bag?

Me: Because I didn't want it to clog the drain and the garbage was already too full.

MLC: But that used to be something special from the first haircut I gave him. Now it's just a bag of hair.

Me: (pause as the realization dawned on me) MLC...It was always just a bag of hair.

I then threw the bag of hair away, thinking of the mother some of us know who kept her son's foreskin in a family album...

3. The "My Mom is Soooo Embarrassing!" Mom Cliche

While I was putting the Little Miss to bed, MLC and Lil G were snuggling on the couch watching a cartoon classic. Getting caught up in the music, I leaped into the room with grace and delight and proceeded to do the running man, a kick-line made up of only me, and a variety of other super cool dance moves. Lil G was somewhat amused, but I'm getting the feeling it's only a matter of time before he realizes just how embarrassing his parents are and refuses to be seen in public with us.

Okay, kiddos. That is all for now. May you enjoy the holiday season, be you subscribers to a particular religion, atheists or agnostics. Maybe I should create a drink called Agnogg-stics. What would go into such a thing? It probably wouldn't matter--agnostics wouldn't need to know one way or another.

Mooooooon!

2011-12-13T13:44:00.002-07:00

Science Ruins Magic: A One-Act Play

LIGHTS up. It is so early in the morning, it is still dark out. MAN and WOMAN are in their kitchen, looking out the window.

WOMAN: The moon is upside-down!!!

MAN: That's the lunar eclipse.

WOMAN: ...I know...

BOY enters.

BOY: The moon is upside down!!!

WOMAN: I know!!!

LIGHTS down.

A friend recently told me that I am the most "normal" person she knows and thanked me for being so "wonderfully down-to-earth."

Stop snickering.

Before I get all big-headed about my normalcy, I should ask: does the fact that she used to work in mental health give more weight to her compliment or does it completely undermine it???

Masticate away, grey matter!

2011-12-12T13:01:00.003-07:00

And now for another edition of...

Things I'm Too Old to Understand

1. Jeggings. It's a word, apparently, describing an article of clothing. I have never feasted my eyes on them in person but the description is a buffet for the senses. My sense of style says NO.

2. JWow. Or is it JWwow? Or Jwoww? Point is, I've never seen Jersey Shore (and I'm afraid if I did I would like it, then not like myself) and I don't know how she got this awesome nickname and I couldn't pick her out in a line-up.

3. What kind of underwear are we ladies supposed to be wearing nowadays? In the 80's, it was bikini briefs that became higher and higher cut. Then we were supposed to start wearing thongs and learn to love them. I went along accordingly. The 2000's told us that boyshorts = sexy and fun, but I couldn't get into them. Now I have no idea what I'm supposed to be wearing. I tried watching the Victoria Secret fashion show, but the catwalk was boring and hearing the models talk about their "awkward stages" made me want to stick my head in a pillowcase.

4. Why do researchers/doctors/scientists/holistic whatevers feel the need to find evidence that every single food will make us fat and/or kill us. Don't eat dairy! Don't eat wheat! Fruit is dessert and should be eaten in moderation! Right now they're telling us to subsist on kale and quinoa, but give them a few months and those will become poisonous too. If I cared just a little bit more I'd be getting a complex.

5. Social networking sites were supposed to bring the world together, when in fact they are actually just making us hate each other and giving us the most convenient medium in which to argue. Someone defriended me last week because I was making fun of the Republican candidates. In my defense, they are all hilarious. Except for Mitt Romney, who is not hilarious enough, which is why he isn't in first place. I briefly considered defriending everyone who did not agree with me about the entertainment value of Grease 2, then quickly realized that would only leave me with Quentin and Amander. You two are quality, but you shouldn't have to bear the burden of my friendship alone.

When I was pregnant with Lil G I posted a quote from Eddie Izzard about how the purpose of life was to infuse your own life with purpose. I was thinking about that this weekend as I waded through some lively challenges, after three weeks that were also on the challenging side. This is what I decided: The only things I need to worry about in life are the things that give my life meaning; those are what require maintenance, but they are also the things that bring me joy. I'm going to let my semi-working brain do some more chewing on that.

Merry Christmas! Your Parents are Liars.

2011-12-05T13:38:00.003-07:00

I am acutely aware that Lil G believes everything I tell him. I felt weird about the whole Santa thing at first--don't throw snowballs at me yet, I'm not done!--but then I imagined him on Christmas Eve, leaving out milk and cookies and going to bed believing a jolly man will sneak into the house and...

...Nope. Still feel a little weird about it. I mean, he's so freaked out about robots somehow getting into our house and yet an overweight stranger is okay? We are actually encouraging him to believe that a man is going to break in and out of our home undetected? Furthermore, a lot people don't really have proper chimneys anymore. Most new houses opt for gas fireplaces, so how is he getting in? Does he have a key to our front door? Will one of his flying reindeer tap a hoof at my bedroom window so I know to let him in?

Lastly, Lil G is convinced that Santa is bringing him a guitar for Christmas. We already have two electric, two classical (nylon-stringed), and two acoustic (steel-stringed) guitars. Plus four toy guitars. Maybe I'll buy him a ukelele just so I can keep up the illusion for him.

And yet...I sure like having the wee one enthusiasm around for the holidays. Guess I'll keep feeding him the festive lies.

Little Known Facts

2011-12-01T13:04:00.005-07:00

When I was fourteen, I was at some church function with my mom and was asked to write down one of my personality traits. At the age of fourteen, I could not come up with a single thing I knew for certain about myself. Everything I came up with would be quickly discounted by memories proving the opposite. I think that's one of the great things about getting older: cliche as it may sound, you get to know yourself.

As young as my kids are, there are things I already know about their personalities. Here are some examples:

The Little Miss

You may already know that I adore the Little Miss to the point of explosion. You also likely know that she is a bit on the heavy side...Her whole skirts-and-fancy-leg-warmers-look is not just a fashion statement, it's a solution to a very real problem: pants do not fit over her thighs. What you may not know, however, is that she is magical. There are a lot of frustrations in our day-to-day lives, some are small and some are more the size of the Little Miss's thighs, but whenever I snuggle her I feel better. When I kiss and playfully munch on her cheeks I feel downright revitalized. This leads me to believe that she has Sampson-like powers. She's fairly bald, so the magic is not in her hair so much as her chubby cheeks and legs.

Lil G

You may already know that Lil G is a lot like his daddy in that he loves Perrier, car dealerships and Home Depot, but he also happens quite the mama's boy. In fact, he was physically attached to me for the majority of his first two years of his life. What you may not know, however, is that he is willing to share anything with me. He offers me bites of every snack and every meal. When I told him how much I love his hair, he offered to put it on my head. And the other night, as I dug out his pajamas from his dresser drawer, he walked towards me, giving himself a purple-nurple and asked, "Would you like to wear my nipples?" I declined, but couldn't deny that he had demonstrated great sharing skills and devotion in that moment.

While we're on the topic of traits...

MLC

You may already know that MLC is a loyal and loving partner and father. He puts his family first with his patients as a very close second (in fact, not a week goes by that he doesn't phone at least one patient on his downtime, just to make sure they are okay.) Anyone would be lucky to have MLC in his/her life. What you may not know, however, is that when MLC was a child he would pull his shirt over his face when he felt embarrassed or sheepish and hide in there like a turtle in his shell. Furthermore, you may not know that this is something he still does and it's funny every time.

I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the birthday of one of the most important people in my life. In university, we bonded over a love of Grease 2, Grease 2 (it's so nice, you gotta say it twice.) She shared my bed the night before I married MLC. A year ago, I was able to attend her too-awesome-for-words Vegas wedding. Amander Rockne, you Rockne my world and I love you so much. Happy Birthday!

get vent

2011-11-22T12:55:00.002-07:00

Maybe it's because I've got post-vacation blues. Maybe it's because I have a small window to accomplish things outside of the house and the ritual of bundling and un-bundling two rugrats in order to run the smallest of errands sucks up most of that window. Or maybe it's because I'm on the verge of mentalstration. Or maybe it's because I miss In-n-Out Burger.

Regardless of the reason, I was looking for a fight this morning. Upon reading this, my sweet and hardworking MLC will be glad he left the house and headed to work before the rest of us awoke.

People who nearly felt my wrath:

1. The customer service agent who gave me flack about trying to exchange a box of diapers without a receipt. My five-month old is wearing 12-18 month clothing, okay?!!! She's growing out of one size every two weeks and it's really hard to keep up with what size of diapers she'll be wearing tomorrow.

2. The cashier at the restaurant (I say "restaurant" but let's admit it: we were at McDonald's. Go ahead. Judge me. I already mentioned In-n-Out Burger in this post and now I'm admitting Lil G and I went to McDonald's. Yes, there's a special place in hell reserved for mommies like me.) Where was I? Oh yes. So I approached the cashier and asked if he was serving lunch. "No, still breakfast," he replied. Disappointed, I ordered some pancakes then stepped to the side to wait for our food. At that exact moment, the cashier turned around and flipped the menu from breakfast to lunch.

3. I deliberately parked far away from any other car, as I require a lot of room to wrangle my rascals into their car seats. When I returned from my shopping trip, I was boxed in by two minivans. I nearly left them both nasty notes.

4. My 2.5 year old darling boy, who also has post-vacation blues, has been having regular and ridiculously irrational meltdowns over the past couple of days. However, you learn fast and early that arguing with a toddler is the most futile of all activities.

Instead of blowing my top, I have gotten both kids down for a nap and I am reminding myself that some people have real problems. Like the kind that don't go away with an afternoon nap.

Of course, comparing yourself to others is no way to make yourself happy nor put things into perspective. So, I'll stick with the nap thing and know that I'll feel better this afternoon.

...you're still thinking about the fact that I mentioned fast food twice in this post, aren't you? Yes, I've read Fast Food Nation and saw the movie. I've also seen those horrifying documentaries that made us all swear to never eat that over-processed, unethical garbage again. And then I had children and realized that, every once in a while, swiftness and convenience seem to be the two most important elements in getting a meal. Don't worry, we all ate our broccoli last night.

Births and Days

2011-11-20T18:31:00.004-07:00

It's my first and faux-mo husband's birthday today. To borrow a line from him, he's turning 30 and yet he and I still don't look a day over 23. Amazing. Bri-Bri, I really love you. With my whole heart. And all my arteries. And other gunky medical stuff. I'm no doctor, I just married one--but only after it became clear that you are really and truly gay (in the homosexual way) and I want you to know that you make me really and truly gay (in the happy way).

By the way, MLC, I'm really glad I convinced you--I mean tricked you--I mean persuaded you--I mean MADE YOU REALIZE you wanted to marry me. So don't be jealous that you aren't my first husband.

We returned from our two-week vacation to AZ...the wee ones were absolute cherubs on the plane, we were joyful to be in our house again, and now the joy is wearing off and we're plotting another sunny getaway. Stupid Alberta winter. Stupid us for not living somewhere sunnier.

Things I'd Forgotten Due to Mama Amnesia:

1. Kids become MORE work, not less, over their first two years of existence. Yes, your stretches of sleep tend to increase during the night, but the awake hours during the day also increase.

2. What being alone feels like.

3. How great it is when a baby greets you in the morning/after a nap.

4. The perma-muffin-top. I'm sure it'll go away eventually (it took almost a year after Lil G was born), but for now it's there whether or not I'm wearing pants.

5. That the sweet baby smell is mostly manufactured. Yes, they have great breath (before they get teeth and start eating regular food), but the rest of that dreamy scent comes from soap and lotion. Without Johnson & Johnson (or Aveeno), babies just smell like gas.

Vacation Mush Brain

2011-11-15T13:52:00.004-07:00

The sunshine seems to agree with MLC, Lil G, the Little Miss and me. Oh, AZ, how you seduce us. Her methods of seduction are as follows:

- Fabulous weather, nearly year round (yes, I know it's blazing hot in the summer)

- Great restaurants

- Movie theatres that open at 9 am

- A myriad of outdoor activities for wee ones and not-so-wee ones alike

My biggest complaint right now? The gardener woke me up from my nap.

...Yes, you can smack me the next time we see each other in person. I deserve it.

Moneymoneymoney

2011-10-31T13:27:00.004-06:00

I recently admitted to my mother that one of my greatest aspirations as a small child was to be filthy rich. Was she proud of my ambition? Probably not. Did she appreciate my honesty? It was unsolicited information, so not really.

Why was I preoccupied with such a shallow notion at such a young age? I thought about it and came up with the following influences:

1. Archie Comics (specifically: Veronica Lodge, Cheryl & Jason Blossom, Alex Cabot III)

2. Almost the entire cast of Beverly Hills, 90210 (not you, Andrea, not only could no one decide whether your name was "Ahhh-ndreah" or "A-ndrea" but you lived in a boring apartment and faked your way into the snooty high school.)

3. Silver Spoons (the name says it all.)

4. Hit songs like, "I Wanna Be Rich!" and "Material Girl."

5. The rise of Macauley Culkin. Yes, he starred in Richie Rich, but that wasn't what caught my attention. Once Home Alone hit blockbuster status, I became acutely aware that someone my age was a movie star and therefore must be extravagantly wealthy. I never factored in his scheming, thieving parents.

Luckily, the mid-nineties came upon us, we started to Damn The Man and dress like unemployed lumberjacks. It must have been the grunge era that evened me out. Thanks, Seattle, for bringing me back down to earth and depressing me out of my superficial dreams.

God Save the Queen

2011-10-23T16:08:00.001-06:00

Have you ever been so tired, your dreams revolved around caffeine? It's not unlike dreaming about being trapped in a room full of toilets and waking up realizing you need to pee.

My wee ones are both great sleepers, but I still have a long way to go before I can replenish the depleted funds in my Sleep Bank. The Currency of Snooze is King.

Actually, let me rephrase that. We've had a female monarchy for decades now and, I think most of you will agree, the female royals of our recent past have been far more compelling than the men. In light of that:

The Currency of Snooze is Queen, my friends.

There. That's better.

Lil G applauds me a lot. It's like he instinctively knows I used to be an actor. That or he's reacting normally to being applauded most of his life for doing odd things and is simply reciprocating.

Clapping for people is weird. We're a weird weird species.

On Friday we spent the afternoon at my parents' place making apple pies. We then sat down to dinner when I heard an alarming squawk. I jumped a little, then immediately realized what had made the sound. "I-didn't-forget-I-had-another-child!" I cried guiltily (and accidentally out loud.) I ran to the living room and retrieved the Little Miss. I'm pretty sure she taught herself that new sound to remind me of her existence and alert me to her whereabouts. In my defence, she's such an amazingly angelic baby, it's easy to lose her in another room.

Unfortunately, this means that I now have to forgive my parents for forgetting me so often. Sure, they actually left me at home and drove off in the car with the rest of the family more than once, not to mention the many occasions they and left me stranded at work as a youth, but they have four kids. The more kids you have, the more dramatic the forgetful and unintentional abandonment. And it's all justified, as I have recently discovered.

Baby Tawk

2011-10-18T14:36:00.004-06:00

Most people recoil from baby talk and reserve high-pitched gibberish murmurings for their dogs. I, too, have been known to roll my eyes at such goo-goo-barf non-communication, despite hearing that it's an important tool to utilize when teaching your baby to talk.

Well, my baby is going to learn to talk.

Here is an example of the things I say to the Little Miss when no other adults are present:

"Oh, my cute wittle baby guwl! I just want to eat yo cheeks all day yong! Num! Num! Num!"

If I sense someone entering the room, I will quickly switch my speech to something like:

"And that's why, my darling, I will support you whether you become a CEO of a Fortune 500 company or decide to pop out 6 babies and raise them single-handedly (though I hope you realize there are a myriad of possibilities between those two unappealing extremes). Feminism is about choice. Do not compete with other women, support each other and avoid those wretched stereotypes that do all women a disservice!"

Once she and I are alone again, I'm back to pretending to eat her cheeks and the annoying-to-everyone-but-the-person-speaking cadence of baby talk.

I had a brainstorm for my next play that I'd like to enter in the springtime festivals. The only problem? I'm pretty sure my best bet for uninterrupted writing is after everyone goes to bed. Is creation worth sacrificing sleep? (asks the woman who has two children...)

Subtext

2011-10-06T13:40:00.004-06:00

A One-Act Play

LIGHTS up. MAN and WOMAN are lying side-by-side in bed, reading. WOMAN looks up.

WOMAN: Do you realize that in a couple of months we'll have been married for seven years?

MAN: Yeah...five good years...

WOMAN: Ouch. I was about to say six good years. You stole my joke and one of my good years of marriage.

LIGHTS down.

One of the greatest things about Lil G, my two-and-a-half-year old, is that he has absolutely no subtext. If there's a thought in his mind, it's coming out of his mouth. Allow me to give you some examples:

"I go upstairs to see my mommy," he says, as he ascends the stairs on his way to see his mommy.

"I play with my tools," he mumbles, while opening his toy tool kit.

"That wet, Mommy," he remarks as he puts his hand in my armpit (in my defence, it was a warm day and I had been wearing his furnace of a sister in the wrap as we went for a walk. Yes. I sweat, okay?)

"I just tooted in the computer room," he states as he leaves the office and walks down the hallway.

Any of you want to be the Artistic Director for The Shkspr Co? We're looking for a new one.

PS Thanks to those of you who have offered to take my children, should something happen to MLC and I. You are truly wonderful people who would be great caregivers, but...you've read my blog, right? You're aware of what you'd be getting into with these two rugrats?

Wills, Wills, Wills

2011-09-26T21:21:00.003-06:00

Whenever a trip involving pas des enfants travel is imminent, I slip into a shame spiral about not having a will. I don't really care about all our material goods and money, but what about my babies? MY BABIES?! Part of the reason MLC and I haven't done our will yet is because we cannot answer that question for ourselves.

I remember asking my mom what would happen to us if she and my dad died. "You'd go to Uncle Gary and Aunt Lynda's," she replied. My reaction? "All right! They have a pool!" It's moments like that that must have made my mother's selfless love and devotion towards her four children all worth it.

Here's the breakdown of where my kids can go:

1. My parents. They have a pool, after all, and I know that's a really important factor in this equation. However, they are in the golden years of their retirement, deserve their leisure time and would definitely not put my kids into school because it would interfere with their globe-trotting.

2. MLC's parents. They live in town, which is great for the wee ones, but Grandma just retired and Grandpa is a couple of years away from packing it in. I'm not sure it's a great idea to saddle them with kids at this point in their lives when they are about to taste freedom.

3. My eldest sister. She lives in Cedar City, which is far away, and has three daughters--one of whom is Lil G's age. The two of them would either end up as kissing cousins or fierce rivals and neither one of those scenarios is ideal. Besides, my sister's almost in the clear (for those of you who don't have children, "in the clear" denotes when you get out of the baby/toddler years) and to plop another baby on her lap on top of a toddler (if I plopped them the other way around, the Little Miss would get squashed) doesn't seem fair.

4. My sister who lives in St Louis. She has three boys and is definitely in the clear (her youngest is 4). They have plenty of space, she is practically human (again, an "in the clear" reference) and my kids are quite fond of her, even though they don't see her often. The downside? Her husband and my husband do not get along. At all. It's awkward.

5. MLC's sister. She lives in town, but is single and has a demanding job. She's a lawyer, in fact. I know that Hollywood would surprise her with the kids and through a series of tears, laughter, and montages including scenes of flour fights in the kitchen and lip-synching in the living room, she would become the best caregiver my kids could have. They would teach her to let loose and love, she would teach them about insurance fraud and its consequences (I'm pretty sure that's the type of law she does). That said, I don't completely trust Hollywood and I don't think she has room in her life for a two-year old and a baby right now.

What do we do? WHAT DO WE DO? (Feel free to say this last line out loud, a la Keanu Reeves in Speed. I know it's not the exact line, but it's pretty close and I'm sure some Keanu-style intensity could illustrate the full weight of my conundrum).

Scratch all that. The only logical solution is for me to not die. Ever. My babies need me.

Tear Goggles

2011-09-21T22:21:00.005-06:00

One of the main differences between MLC and I (besides the fact that he's male, I'm female; he's tall, I'm shortish; he's dark, I'm blonde; he likes Formula One Racing, I like Gossip Girl; he's into medicine, I'm into theatre; he really loves his his fancy watch, I don't care what time it is; etc), is that I'm a crier and he's not. I'm pretty sure the last time MLC shed a tear was almost a decade ago and it was because someone close to him had passed away. That's a pretty good reason to cry. Me? Where do I begin...

Last week was really challenging and my kids were both kind of rotten (though, in retrospect, so was my starvation-mode parenting,) so I cried.

This week has been great and my kids have filled me with (almost) nothing but love and joy, which has made me cry a little, too.

After Don't Ask, Don't Tell was repealed, I watched a video of a young soldier coming out to his dad over the phone, and my eyes welled up a bit.

Whenever MLC and I get into a spat (which is definitely never), I tend to get teary.

Today, Lil G introduced me to his imaginary friend named Mike, then proceeded to inexplicably walk around like a duck, which made me laugh so hard, my eyes became blurry with tears.

If ever I hear Brick by Ben Folds Five, I have to breathe in and out slowly or else I completely lose it.

My sisters have been incredibly supportive and given me great advice over the past several days ("You're a great mom and your kids are well-behaved, so trust what you're doing!" "When I have a baby, I find eating cinnamon rolls every day makes everything better!") which has also made me pretty emotional.

Every Modern Family episode I've seen has made me laugh, then promptly made me cry.

I could go on.

My point is, I now feel guilty for ever rolling my eyes at my mother (who is probably one of the nicest people alive) for crying at the little things. I now understand that, particularly for those of us who started out as criers, motherhood makes those floodgates impossible to close. Come on, if you've got kids, you walk around with a curtain of tears behind your eyes at all times too (MLC, try to resist explaining how that's biologically impossible and I clearly don't understand how tear ducts work.)

So, if you find yourself approaching me with news/anecdotes/conversation that is particularly funny/sad/heartwarming/enraging/confusing/hunger-inducing/odd, do so with caution. Who knows what's going to set off the choked-up alarm.

The Right Decision

2011-09-21T12:18:00.003-06:00

Things I Can Do Now That I'm No Longer Trying To Lose All Of My Baby Weight By November:

- be nicer to MLC

- stop squinting due to hunger-induced headaches

- bake cookies with Lil G

- realize that reasoning with a two-year old is somewhat futile and accept him for the zany little guy he is

- realize that reasoning with a three-month old is completely futile and I shouldn't expect her to sleep twelve hours straight without feeding

- resist salivating at fast food commercials

- eat snacks other than mini organic rice cakes (made with brown rice and a dash of honey!) and unsweetened pomegranate applesauce cups

- function like a normal human being

- like people (family, strangers, friends--suddenly everyone seems lovelier)

- enjoy my life

- still fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans, providing they don't go in the dryer.

Obviously giving up the diet was the right decision.

What's George Clooney got to be so smug about?

2011-09-20T12:13:00.003-06:00

Yesterday while I was cleaning up a poop explosion (something you're well acquainted with if you've ever had a newborn baby around), a friend of mine posted some pictures on facebook from her workday. All four photos had George Clooney in them.

Yes, my friend spent the day with George Clooney while I spent the day with poop.

Am I jealous? No. I'm an anomaly and am not even remotely attracted to George (perhaps it's because, as a child of the 80's, I can't stop picturing him as the mullet-sporting goofball from Facts of Life). More than that, I actually really like hanging out with my kids. You know, when I don't want to throw them out the window. Besides, my friend probably had to be dressed and ready to go by 6am while I was cuddling my baby in bed, dozing happily.

That said, she sure has a kick-ass job with plenty of glamour. My current idea of glamour is putting on eyeliner when we have company. And wearing clothing that isn't stained. And sort of fits.

Ugh. I know I need to stop whining about this baby weight, but I was doing so well! And then the desire not to be hungry and not have a headache kicked in. Not to mention my husband and kids' desire for me to be nicer to them. So far kindness and feeling functional are winning over vanity.

Warning: this next part is going to be about the current season of America's Next Top Model. Which means I should probably just direct this at Bri-Bri and Amander...

You know whatsherface who showed up looking teeny and claiming she just had a baby two months ago? Two thoughts popped into my head when she declared herself a brand new mother:

1. How how HOW did she get that body so quickly after 40-weeks of growing a human inside of her?

2. SHE LEFT HER TWO-MONTH OLD BABY TO BE ON A REALITY SHOW????!!!!

Basically, she may look way better than I do right now (mostly the look I'm shooting for is "less tired" when I put on make-up in the morning), but clearly I'm a better mother simply because I didn't abandon my children for Tyra Banks. I'll take that moral victory.

Amazon Women

2011-09-15T16:12:00.004-06:00

As we've discussed, the Little Miss is an Amazon Baby with a bright future with the WNBA. That said, here is a list of things that you should NOT say when seeing her for the first time:

- "She's HUGE!!!"*

Okay, so it's not much of a list, but you should know that any variation on the above exclamation is also strongly discouraged.

(*Someone may have uttered these exact words earlier today, much to my offence and dismay.)

And now, so you aren't completely lost, a list of things you SHOULD say when seeing my baby for the first time:

- "She's beautiful!"

- "Her smile and sweet baby giggle make my life feel more complete."

- "Look at those gorgeous eyes! And those eyelashes go on for days!"

- "I can tell in one glance that she is an incredibly smart little lady with a lifetime of success ahead of her!"

- "She looks like a young Elizabeth Taylor--with all the talent and beauty and none of the crazy."

There. Now I will not feel the need to clutch my baby to my chest and punch any of you. I'm glad, because I really like you and would hate to resort to violence.

Ahhh, Thriday night. How I love being married to a man who doesn't work Fridays.

We've been watching season 1 of Modern Family and are finding that our relationship lies somewhere between Claire & Phil's and Mitchell & Cameron's (but mostly just when they're harmonizing while getting ready for bed.) We have also discovered that neither one of us would kick Sofia Vergara out of bed.

See? TV is educational.

Grumplestilkskin

2011-09-13T13:14:00.004-06:00

A day like today makes me seriously consider selling my children.

Don't call the police, I'm (mostly) joking. Besides, I'd really like to enjoy the kid-free time with MLC before I get arrested. Maybe take trips to Hawaii, New York and London.

Okay, so if you feel like you have to call the police, at least give me two months of liberty first.

The hardest part of losing baby weight is staying motivated when you get to the, "Hey! I look mediocre and my clothes almost-sort-of fit!" stage. What's wrong with mediocrity, anyway? Besides, I miss food.

Lil - does it make you feel better to know that when drug reps come to MLC's office for lunch meetings, he walks in, takes the free food, then walks out while his colleague calls the rep on their bullsh** claims?

Both my children have been really difficult at the age of 3-months. As I remember it, however, 4-months is kind of glorious. But while we're stuck in this dark stage, I think I'll send my every-loving partner and husband a message thanking him for getting snipped...

Things I Like

2011-09-12T12:08:00.003-06:00

Things I Like that are Disapproved of by Large Groups of People:

- Living in the suburbs

- Snuggling and watching television (booo!) with my two-year old (side note: the other day while watching Curious George have an adventure in a space ship, Lil G informed me that he wanted to be an astronaut. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I'm pretty sure Canada doesn't have a space program and NASA has recently lost its funding.)

- Dairy

- Modern medicine

- Ben Affleck

- Men who don't have six-packs (give me a softer belly because I find that washboard look ridiculous--and not just because it makes me feel inadequate)

- Chain restaurants and stores

- Daily naps (though I may not feel the need to strive for this once my kids are older...)

- Billy Ocean's hit song, "Get Outta My Dreams Get into My Car."

PS The answer to the Harry Potter question: I cried 15 times during the last movie. And, yes, it's odd that I counted. Sorry, readers, no loonies for you.

A Shortie

2011-09-08T12:28:00.002-06:00

It's my birthday tomorrow. Do you want to know how I'm celebrating a day early? By eating fudge in bed and vowing not to weigh myself this week.

You're welcome, Annette.

Oh dear. This is a Bridget Jones moment and, as much as I love her, I'm pretty sure I should avoid having her as a role model.

PS Sorry about eating your fudge, MLC.

We found Lil G and his girlfriend lying beside each other in his bed, reading books earlier today. It was precious. And then I made a mental note to make sure they aren't still doing such activities in ten years. Sure, it STARTS at The Cat in the Hat, but where does it end up? I never played, "I'll show you mine, you show me yours" (well, not as a child, anyway) and would prefer it if those two avoided that game as well.

So far all of your Harry Potter cry-guesses have been wrong.

Harry Peter

2011-09-07T20:43:00.003-06:00

Movie Wednesday! I finally saw Harry Potter 7.2! Now, can you all pretend that it just opened and you just saw it too? You were all so passionate on facebook using your status updates to convey every emotion you had about that movie and the end of a magical era (Pottera?) and now I'm ready to jump on that bandwagon. A month and a half later.

Where's your enthusiasm???

Still not interested in rehashing it with me? Okay, what if I make it more interesting? I'll give you a dollar if you can guess how many times Harry Potter made me cry. Here are two hints:

1. It was more than 2 but less than 100.

2. I'm on my period, so it's probably more than 5, but still less than 100.

You can ask Niven--I pay up on my loonie bets. He got a shiny Canadian dollar not too long ago for correctly guessing the Little Miss's arrival date and gender.

So, let the game begin!

Tonight MLC has his monthly Brain Trust meeting and, knowing I had plans to read in the bubble bath after I got the kidlets to bed, my parents dropped off an early birthday present: vanilla pineapple bubble bath (an unexpectedly delicious combination of smells) and This is a Book by Demetri Martin.

I'm almost embarrassed to go shopping in the "Humour" section of the book store as it conjures up imaginary titles about toilet paper and beer (I don't know, I'm not a comedian, that's just what comes to mind when I think low-brow humour topics), but it's definitely one of my favourite genres. David Sedaris, Danny Wallace, Dave Gorman, Tina Fey, Steve Martin...and maybe David Cross (I'm reading the free sample of his book via an iPhone app)...all great reads; especially right now, considering my unreliable attention span.

What were we talking about?

Magic Jammies

2011-09-06T12:16:00.004-06:00

A One-Act Play

LIGHTS up. It's just after 7am. MAN is dressed for work and is sitting on the bed beside WOMAN who has just woken up. She has BABY GIRL in her arms.

MAN: How did last night go?

WOMAN: Really well. She went to bed at 7:30pm, I dream-fed her at 10pm and then she didn't get up until around 3:45am! Then she went right back to sleep until just now.

MAN: That's awesome!

WOMAN: I know! And, this is going to sound crazy, but I'm pretty sure she's been wearing these pajamas every time she's had a really good night.

Pause. MAN and WOMAN look at each other.

MAN: Those pajamas still look clean. She can wear those again tonight.

WOMAN: Definitely. And the next night and the next night and the next night...

LIGHTS down.

I'll have you know that we did put her in those pajamas again last night and, you know what? She didn't wake up until almost 5am! Then she went back to sleep until 7:30! That's 12 hours of sleep with a brief 5am feed!

For the record, MLC and I are not superstitious people. We believe in science. Facts. Logic.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I should probably go wash those pajamas so she can wear them again tonight.

More Money, Please

2011-09-02T12:19:00.005-06:00

Why MLC (the family doc) and I (the stay-at-home-parent) Basically do the Same Job:

- We both deal with a lot of whining and crying during the day.

- We often have to figure out new solutions when our "patients" are non-compliant (though, overall, I'm pretty sure I endure a lot more non-compliance than he does...)

- Whether or not we're in the same room as our patients, we are always responsible for their well-being.

- If the internet is down, it ruins the day for both of us: MLC, because he can't access charts and labs, me, because I can't access the outside world and other adults.

- This week, MLC and I both cured people of itchy bums.

In conclusion, I deserve a big fat paycheck and loads more respect. In fairness, there are days when MLC deserves loads more respect, too.

Hmm...I have a feeling that when MLC reads this post, he'll point out how complicated medicine can be and how many patients he has who have cancer and other life-threatening diseases. Okay, you can keep your paycheck, Government, I definitely prefer my job to his. Even though mine involves more poop.

PS My Pet Christmas, I would love to live closer to you so we could commiserate and celebrate together on a regular basis.

Ranting and Craving

2011-09-01T13:14:00.004-06:00

Yesterday afternoon I saw my first movie since Harry Potter--no, not that Harry Potter, the one all of you saw over a month ago and proceeded to rant and rave about on facebook--the one before that. So, yes, MLC's mom came over to hang out with Lil G while the Little Miss and I went on a date to see Crazy, Stupid Love; my first in-theatre movie since whenever Harry Potter 7.1 came out.

As I sat down in the darkened theatre with my chocolatey drink in my hand and my babe strapped to my chest, fast asleep, I nearly cried from the joy of it all. Then I nearly cried several times during the movie from the great writing, addicting characters and my inability to resist becoming emotionally involved with the fiction splashed on the giant screen. I also laughed hysterically several times for many of the same reasons. Oh, yes, and I also may have tee-heed every time Ryan Gosling strutted and oozed Ryan Gosling-ness before my eyes and ears. And then nearly cried when it was over and time for my me-time to end.

My point is, I mentioned in my previous entry that I don't get out much. My next point is, I'm half-way through the third week of my pill pack (to put it delicately) so I can hardly be blamed for the roller coaster my hormones took me on. My next-to-last point is, I loved that movie so very much I immediately wanted to marry it and have its babies until I realized that I'm at capacity, kid-wise, right now. My final point is, WHY THE H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEY-STICKS HAVE I NOT SEEN THE FINAL HARRY POTTER YET?

Sorry. Third-week-pill-pack outburst.

MLC often teases me for growing up in such a WASP-y home. For instance, if someone (other than my brother) passes gas in front of the other family members, we all politely pretend it didn't occur, regardless of how many decibels it reached in volume. So, MLC and the rest of you, let's just call a third-week-pill-pack a spade and admit that in a few days I'll either get my period or learn I'm severely and accidentally pregnant.

Whew! It feels good to over-communicate, doesn't it?

This morning I was able, with some effort, to pull up my size 27 Seven jeans over my hips and get the button AND fly done up. The effect may be lumpy, but I will continue to wear these jeans until one of two things happen:

1. I slim down enough to be able to wear AND breathe in them

2. One of my children gets poop on me (pee doesn't count--once it dries, you can't even tell it's there)

Remember when I said I should stop obsessing about my weight? I'll stop obsessing after I get these final 8 pounds off and I can buy myself some new clothes. Probably. Oh, come on, if you're female and reading this, you obsess over your weight too. If you're male and reading this, you either obsess over your weight or your hairline or both, so you can keep your judgements to yourself too.

Let's all just admit that as much as we value character and integrity and what's "under the surface" and blah blah blah, we all want to be hottt...with three t's.

And now a run-down of my days this week:

chaos chaos NAP TIME chaos chaos BED TIME (repeat).

Dream Feed

2011-08-30T12:25:00.003-06:00

Is that a choir of angels singing? No, it's even better--it's silence. Whomever first stated that "silence is golden" had children. At least a toddler. Why the silence? I'm magical and am able to get my two-year old and my almost-three-month-old napping AT THE SAME TIME. I should become a sleep doula.

One of the things I'd teach as a sleep doula would be the "dream feed." Trust me: it's as funny as it is effective. I'll give you an example:

8pm: following the Little Miss's bedtime ritual, I put her down for the night.

10pm: I sneak into her room with a bottle, gently lift her out of the crib, stick the bottle in her mouth and she drinks down a couple of ounces while remaining asleep. Put her back in her crib and she's good until 3 or 4am. Boom! I get a longer stretch of sleep in the first part of the night!

This concept isn't amusing to you? Okay, I would like you to envision me doing the same thing to MLC.

8pm: MLC's been cranky, so I put him to bed for the night.

10pm: I come into our room carrying a chocolate milkshake. Without waking him, I lift MLC's head, stick the straw in his mouth and let him drink the milkshake while remaining asleep.

(Aside: Hmm...maybe if I did this, MLC wouldn't be such an early riser...)

Still not funny to you? Well, you obviously get out more than I do.

Here is a sampling of Lil G's monologuing that started at 6:45am and continued until I put him down for his nap at noon...

- "Play playdough, Mommy? Mommy? Play playdough? Play playdough together, Mommy?"

- (to the cashier at the grocery store) "Baby Avery! Avery funny in the car. I play with my tractor. Papa Ray give me my tractor. Where my hammer go? I need my hammer!"

- (when I asked him what he wanted for lunch) "Perogies. I want perogies. And fruits and vegetables."

Yes, to some these little phrases may seem cute, but when he says, "Whatcha doin', Mommy?" nineteen times in under two minutes followed by, "That's a good idea!" four times in under a minute I want to turn the volume down on his little Smurf voice.

Now, I'm going to enjoy the remainder of this silence by drinking a chocolatey drink and reading a trashy novel.

Letter to Self

2011-08-22T11:49:00.003-06:00

I don't normally pay attention to any of the Kardashian clan. I'm not sure why they're famous or why I should recognize their mask-faced father; however, there is a new development that has me thinking more and more of Kim K herself. It happens any time I'm in front of a full-length mirror and I turn to the side...I'll be honest, I'd be quite happy to have that silly reality star's hair or face, but what I've ended up with is her ass. The word "asstronomical" comes to mind.

A letter to my 17-year old self...

Dear 17-year old Annette,

Here are some wise words to get you through the next decade or so of your life:

1. For the next couple of years, you will have the best body and highest metabolism in your entire life. Take this time to walk around in beachwear and eat lots of fried foods.

2. Stop obsessing about your weight. It's an annoying trait. Oh--and pass this message along to your 30-year old self. Soon to be 31.

3. You will not go to hell for letting you-know-who feel you up, despite what they tell you in Sunday School. Relax.

4. Speaking of dating, you are going to get involved with some real doozies. On the upside, many of them will provide you with entertaining anecdotes. So...proceed with caution and amusement.

5. Spoiler Alert: you are going to marry someone you went to elementary school with. No, stop trying to guess, you'll never figure it out. Rest assured, he will be funny, smart, handsome and successful. Oh--and he'll also make a couple of cute babies with you.

6. Don't bother with the new Star Wars movies. The dialogue will be appallingly bad and you will never get that time back. Yes, yes, I know Ewan Mcgregor is in them and you love him very much, but they aren't worth the Ewan screen time.

7. Here's how you get rid of migraines: 2 extra strength excedrin + 2 advil + 1 diet coke. Excessive? No, and this concoction will save you. Learn it. Love it.

Always,

Yourself

A Game of "YAY and BOO"

2011-08-20T13:09:00.005-06:00

YAY: Not even three months old and the Little Miss is sleeping through the night.

BOO: This means I'm going to become even more obnoxiously evangelical about sleep training--just ask the dear friends I forced to sit in the dark for an hour during her bedtime routine.

YAY: I've been cutting my calories in half and am now ten pounds away from my pre-pregnancy weight.

BOO: I've not-so-coincidentally had a headache for the past two weeks and am missing out on the deliciousness of life.

YAY: After discovering the "stats" tab on blogger, I learned that I have a global audience, from North America all the way to Lithuania and beyond.

BOO: They probably ended up at my blog because, for some reason, it comes up when you google "autophalatio" and "bowling to keep fit."

YAY: I figured out how to "fake" clean my house.

BOO: My house will not become "real" clean until Lil G's vacuum and mopping skills improve.

YAY: Bachelor Pad 2 is as depraved and entertaining as its first incarnation.

BOO: Bri-Bri can't seem to find the time to grace us with his Recaps on Britunes.

Not Under the Category of Never Not Funny

2011-08-14T19:51:00.003-06:00

The Least Funny Conversation Ever Had Between Two People, A One-Act Play

LIGHTS up. WOMAN and MAN are sitting side-by-side on the couch. They both look exhausted. BABY GIRL is snuggling WOMAN, grasping and releasing WOMAN's hair.

WOMAN: Ugh, I was up until 1:30 am. I had heartburn so badly, I was heaving over the toilet for quite some time. Actually, it was how I felt most of my last pregnancy.

A pregnant pause.

WOMAN: I'm feeling a little nauseated tonight, too.

MAN: Maybe you're pregnant.

WOMAN: Impossible. Even if I were, it would be way to early to be sick from it.

MAN: Maybe it's twins.

LIGHTS down.

I don't actually think I'm pregnant, but ever since my hair stylist informed me that she and her brother are eleven months apart, I've become paranoid. I'm sure there are worse things that could happen in my life, but right now, the prospect of being pregnant--particularly with twins--is up there.

Lil G is getting his final molars. He is constantly swinging from being darling and funny to being completely distraught and unreasonable. I'm pretty sure if we had one of those fainting couches, he'd spend all day flinging himself onto it. As it stands, he just flings himself onto the floor. Or the driveway. Or the grass. Or the couch. Or my lap. Depending on where we are.

The Little Miss, on the other hand, is so well behaved I sometimes forget where she is in the house. Don't worry--I always find her.

Will someone bring me Starbucks and adult conversation tomorrow? That'd be great, thanks.

Reality Me

2011-08-08T08:55:00.002-06:00

A One-Act Play

Scene One

LIGHTS up. It is evening. The stage is split between a bathroom and a bonus room. In the bathroom, WOMAN runs a bubble bath while BOY cries uncontrollably and tries to retrieve a pull-up diaper out of the garbage can. He keeps attempting to put the used pull-up back on, but is not coordinated enough, particularly in his prostrate state. WOMAN begins to flip through a magazine and waits for the irrational meltdown to pass.

In the bonus room, MAN is playing with BABY GIRL. MAN sneezes, startling BABY GIRL who bursts into tears and cannot be soothed for several minutes. Both children are now crying at decibels unfit for the human ear.

LIGHTS down.

Scene Two

LIGHTS up. WOMAN is holding BABY GIRL, who is now sucking on her soother and quite content. WOMAN stares at the television, perplexed. MAN enters.

WOMAN: I've never seen Big Brother before, but from what I gather, there's lots of crying, no windows in the house and it looks like everyone needs to make their bed.

MAN: Sounds like our house.

WOMAN: ...at least we have windows.

BLACKOUT.

Games and Letters, Letters and Games

2011-08-02T12:48:00.003-06:00

The Little Miss is so obedient, when I told her I wanted her sleeping through the night by 8-weeks, she complied. However, her brother, who is normally a champion sleeper, woke up crying at 11pm, which cut into my 6-hour stretch a wee bit.

Let's play a game called "Guess What Lil G was Crying for at Eleven O'Clock at Night!"

Was it:

a) His mommy

b) His daddy

c) Another story

d) Perrier

If you picked "d", Perrier, give yourself a much deserved pat on the back.

Now, let's play a game called "Guess What Lil G is Afraid of Most and Therefore Gives him Nightmares!"

Is he most afraid of:

a) Monsters

b) The dark

c) Robots

d) Werewolves

If you picked "c", Robots, pat yourself on the back with both hands. How does he know about Robots? Um...I'm not entirely sure. Why does he find them frightening? Nope, can't answer that question either. But when I was his age I was paralyzingly terrified of jack 'o lanterns.

Toddlers are weird.

Dear 14 Pounds of Pregnancy Weight,

I realize I ate poutine in Banff on Sunday and pizza on Monday and so you may feel that I'm sending you mixed messages, but I really don't love you. You were necessary when I was growing a human inside of me, but now it's time for us to call it quits. Our relationship has run its course. No, no--I don't mean I'm going to start running or even going for long walks--I'd just appreciate it if you disappeared on your own. Without any help from me. Or change in my eating habits. Poutine is really good.

Thanking you in advance,

Nettie MPC

Dear WNBA,

When I was pregnant with my son, I was convinced he was going to be an 8-foot tall ginger baby. Well, I was 50% right. But, good news! I just got back from the doctor and had my suspicions confirmed: my two-month old daughter is in the 85th percentile for height and weight. She's well on her way to being 8-feet tall. Please consider her for next year's draft. And could you encourage the cooler cities (ie not Detroit) to woo her? I'd really like to move somewhere on either coast.

Sincerely,

Short Mama

I live in a kiddly sickly bubble

2011-07-27T09:19:00.003-06:00

Illness has befallen the shortest members of our household. It's always scary when newborns get sick, but Little Miss is getting through it like a champ. More concerning is what effects being housebound for yet another day is going to have on me. Will I recover from Cabin Fever? Will I forget how to converse with adults? Meh--even if the latter happens, Lil G speaks exclusively in full sentences now and our dialogues are more entertaining than most grown-up conversations I've had anyway.

Sometimes Lil G likes to pretend to cut and style my hair. Yes, it sounds as though he likes to play "Hair Salon," but if MLC asks, let's tell him one of the following instead:

1. We're playing barbershop!

2. He's pretending to help me pick out a barbeque at Home Depot!

3. We've been watching a lot of UFC lately and this is his latest ultimate fighting move!

4. (Something else manly)

I came down the stairs yesterday afternoon and Lil G looked up and said, "I wuv (love) you, Mummy." He then ran over to me and gave me a hug and a kiss. Moments later we were playing with playdough and he professed his affection for each color we opened. "I wuv (love) puhpoh (purple)", "I wuv beeyack (black)", "I wuv beeyooh (blue)". It kind of took the weight out of his proclamation to me, though I appreciate his lust for life.

My one beef with the angelic Little Miss right now is that she isn't sleeping through the night. Yes, she's only 7-weeks old, but by this point Lil G was a monster snoozer. Of course, that may have had to do with his six hour colicky crying jags prior to bedtime. Try it sometime; wailing for that long is exhausting.

So, the question remains: would I rather deal with a colicky baby who sleeps through the night at a young age or a chill, happy baby who is a mediocre sleeper? I think my kids came in the right order...

Dodge, Weave, Dab Eyes

2011-07-20T22:49:00.003-06:00

A friend was telling me about a graph she saw in the public health office illustrating when babies peak in fussiness. The highest crying point? Six weeks. Guess how old the Little Miss is...

Almost overnight she morphed from Angel Baby to, what MLC has dubbed, The Beast.

Today, however, was a very good day. A sugar and spice day, if you will. MLC claims he "fixed her" with probiotic drops. I claim her cherubic behaviour is due to my semi-diligent sleep training. We may never know who is right (me) as something like this can be difficult (easy) to determine (winner = me).

...chances are today was a fluke and we'll have another scream-fest tomorrow; if being a parent has taught me anything, it's that kids like to keep you on your tippy-toes. Not "ballet tippy-toes" so much as "boxing match tippy-toes". Dodge and weave, dodge and weave.

After putting Lil G to bed, I got reacquainted with my DVR while I snuggled the Little Miss. This is what occurred:

- I teared up during the last ten minutes of Despicable Me

- I teared up during the first ten minutes of A Single Man

Right now you are thinking two things:

1. Those must be truly poignant films!

2. Did she really watch two movies in one night?

Allow me to respond:

1. I also tear up during middle-of-the-night reruns of Supernanny, so we can't be sure. They may be great movies or my emotional reflex might be a symptom of the postpartum/fatigue roller coaster I'm strapped into.

2. No. I literally watched the last ten minutes of Despicable Me followed by the first ten minutes of A Single Man. That's twenty minutes of movie-watching, total. My attention span isn't what it used to be.

Scar-pleaseletmegetsomesleep O'Hara

2011-07-10T09:54:00.003-06:00

A One-Act Play

LIGHTS up. WOMAN is in a cozy living room, holding her newborn and watching her two-year old be weird in a most hilarious way. WOMAN'S MOTHER is nearby in the kitchen.

WOMAN: Sometimes I look at my kids and can't help but think they are the most beautiful and amazing creatures in the world.

WOMAN'S MOTHER: You do make cute kids.

WOMAN: Do you still feel that way about your kids? Do you ever look at me as an adult and think, "She is the most beautiful and amazing creature in the world"?

WOMAN'S MOTHER: (laughs)

WOMAN: Um... I wasn't joking.

WOMAN'S MOTHER: Oh.

LIGHTS down.

I know it's been a long while since my last update. In my defence, I have no concept of time. That happens when the day never ends. Mark my words: I will have Little Miss sleeping through the night within the next three weeks! As God as my witness, I will never go tired AGAIN!!!!

...Okay, that's definitely not true, but I simply cannot resist a good Scarlett O'Hara moment when I see one.

Fighting Fair

2011-06-27T13:12:00.002-06:00

Kevin & Lil - you two have the job. Your applications were above and beyond what I could have expected. We'll discuss wage and benefits soon.

Yesterday afternoon, MLC and I got into a rather heated discussion in the car. Yes, he and I occasionally don't see eye-to-eye and that can be compounded when sleep deprivation and a drop in blood sugar levels are also factors. During this--okay, we'll just call it what it is--fight, Lil G tried to diffuse the tension by saying things like, "I'm sowwy about that, Mommy" and "Time out, Mommy?" and "Happy, Mommy? Happy?" It was quite precious. When we got home and out of the car, my little guy gave me a big hug. MLC and I resolved the fight soon after that.

I was relaying this story to my sister this morning and instead of agreeing that my two-year old is a sweet and sensitive little guy, she informed me that fighting in front of him was traumatizing and damaging.

I should stop here and point out that I get a lot of unsolicited parenting advice from this particular sister. That said, I love her and have a good relationship with her. That said, the unsolicited advice is still, for the most part, unwelcome.

At first, I became defensive. Then I worried she was right. These thoughts interfered with precious napping time. This led me to be angry. Then I decided I was also hungry and grabbed a few handfuls of trail mix. Once my hunger subsided, I was ready to tackle the controversy again.

I read a few articles, many of which agreed with my sister's position. Then, my mind flashed back to a Simpson's episode where Marge and Homer retreated to their car to secretly fight so as to not upset their children. Of course, Bart and Lisa stood by the window watching the whole thing and lamented how they hated it when their parents fought in the car.

After reading a few more articles, I came to the following conclusion: I'm a pretty good parent. I can trust my instincts on this one.

These are my instincts...

1. As long as the fight does not include bullying, physical aggression, and/or name-calling, it's okay to have the odd little blowout in front of your kids.

2. It isn't constructive to raise children in an environment when you pretend everything is okay and no one ever gets mad. Fighting fair teaches them to do the same when they lose their temper or get their feelings hurt. It also teaches them the importance of talking about your feelings instead of repressing negative emotions.

3. Showing resolutions to fights between adults helps aid in the whole "practice what you preach" aspect of parenting. I tell Grayson to apologize and give someone a hug when he hurts them and it's important for him to see MLC and I do the same.

4. I don't want my kids to think relationships in general, and marriage in particular, are always easy and drama-free. I want them to know that you have to work at your relationships to keep them healthy and make the other person happy.

I don't feel guilty about having that argument in front of my boy. MLC and I rarely fight so I'm not going to worry about devastating Lil G and making him feel as though he's growing up in a broken home. He is well loved, well taken care of and knows it. You know, except when I won't let him devour an entire package of marshmallows--then he's convinced his life is in shambles.

Help Wanted

2011-06-22T17:29:00.002-06:00

I've got some hiring to do. Here are a couple of ads I'm thinking of putting in the local paper...

1. Are you motivated? Not easily annoyed? Are you unfamiliar with what an existential crisis feels like? Then you are perfect for the role of Toddler Clean-Up Crew! Responsibilities include following a two-year old around and tidying up the chaos and destruction left in his wake. Must be willing to work Monday - Sunday from 6am - 7pm. Daily lunch breaks are negotiable during nap time.

2. Looking for enthusiastic men and women to join a Live "Studio" Audience. Audience members will be expected to applaud and cheer when they witness me carrying a newborn, two-year old, giant diaper bag and groceries all at once while walking across a parking lot. Other opportunities for applause include, but are not limited to: watching me simultaneously help the two-year old eat oatmeal while feeding the newborn a bottle and grabbing a few bites of toast at the crack of dawn; noting that all three of us have taken a two-hour nap during the same two hours of the day; any time it appears I am on the verge of tears and need reinforcement to carry on.

Somehow, I am still finding that having baby #2 is vastly easier than when Lil G was a newborn. Perhaps this can be likened to learning to play the guitar: MLC and I have strongly calloused fingers from two years of heavy practice and now learning a new song and playing two instruments at once doesn't hurt so much. Am I stretching that metaphor? Probably. But I think I deserve a round of applause for putting words together to make several fairly coherent sentences when I am this sleep deprived. Now where's my studio audience???

And now, back to enjoying the greatest of baby snuggles while MLC and Lil G play in the backyard.

Obama?

2011-06-17T19:35:00.002-06:00

A One-Act Play

LIGHTS up. WOMAN is watching Jon Stewart's coverage of the Republican debate on television. BOY, who is two-years old and has giant curly hair, is playing around her.

BOY: (pointing to the television) Obama?

WOMAN: No, Honey, those are Republicans. Obama isn't there.

BOY: I'm sawwy (sorry) about that.

WOMAN: (laughing) That's okay. I'm sure Obama wouldn't be that offended.

WOMAN turns off the television.

BOY: (pointing to the television again) More Jon Stewart?

WOMAN wipes a tear of pride from her eye. LIGHTS down.

Lil G's top three favourite bands/artists:

1. Red Hot Chili Peppers

2. Jack Johnson

3. No Doubt

He may not have his finger on the pulse of what's hip and happening in the music industry, but he's still a pretty awesome little kid.

Baby #2 is still proving to be much easier than her older brother ever was. She's a chill little kitty-kat and snuggly as can be.

The past week and a half almost has MLC and I convinced we could do a third. Just kidding.

The Goods

2011-06-10T19:35:00.003-06:00

The Date: June 8th at 12:26 am (that Hiven character narrowly pulled out a victory and I will be shining his toonie soon.)

The Gender: Girl

The Name: Avery Charlotte

The Size: 8 lbs 2 oz, 20 inches long

The Story: I waited as long as I could at home before allowing MLC to speed to his heart's content to get to the hospital. Three hours later, I pushed out the sweet babe in six minutes. It was like a very painful slip 'n slide. But not really at all like that. For juxtaposition's sake, it took an hour to push out her older brother. Twelve hours (and no sleep) later, we walked out of the hospital and drove home.

The Babe: Baby magic, so far. She's been really good and we're all madly in love. Except for Lil G who swings between complete disinterest and wanting to pat her head. Sometimes love takes time.

The Pictures: Too time consuming to deal with right now. Rest assured, she's gorgeous and has dark hair, even though I was convinced I was brewing a blonde. Chances are she'll be bald soon, so her current hair color is moot.

Thanks for all the sweet messages. You're a bunch of gems. Lovely, lovely gems.

Labor Pains

2011-06-07T13:36:00.003-06:00

After four and a half days of feeling as though I'm in labor, I went to my baby doctor appointment this morning to find out that I'm sort of in early labor. Would you like details? Did I hear the squeamish say, "Yes, please?!" Well, as of this morning, I was 2 centimeters dilated and 80% effaced. That means the baby could come today! Or tomorrow! Or possibly even the next day. Let's not get too excited.

Of course, now I find myself in a "damned if I do, damned if I don't" situation.

Damned if I do....

... have the baby, I'll no longer be pregnant, but I will have a broken body, be critically sleep deprived and have a needy newborn.

Damned if I don't...

... have the baby, I'll still be pregnant and pained and uncomfortable.

See my conundrum?

I'm going to go watch some Jon Stewart and contract for a while. Much love to all of you!

PS I'm pretty sure my two-year old has figured out women. Any time I look less than happy, regardless of the reason, he turns to me and says, "Sorry about that, Mommy. I'm sorry about that."

Can't, Won't, Didn't and Other Contractions

2011-06-05T12:33:00.003-06:00

Without naming specifics, I've used four different so-called labor-inducing methods over the past several days (a few of which I didn't list in my last post, so have fun trying to deduce which ones I'm referring to...)

Thursday morning - Method 1

Thursday afternoon - Method 2

Friday morning - Method 1, again

Friday evening - Method 3

Saturday morning - Method 1, again

Saturday evening - Method 4

Sunday morning - Method 1, again

The results? I'm still heavy with child, but have had incredibly convincing contractions for the past three days. Last night they were rather painful and 8 minutes apart for several hours. I jumped in the shower, washed my hair (for photo ops) and was ready to call in the cavalry when MLC convinced me to go to sleep again. What happens when I fall asleep??? THE CONTRACTIONS STOP.

The tiny rational part of my brain knows that even if I hadn't gone to sleep, I wouldn't have had the baby. But the larger, not-at-all rational part of my brain is convinced that all I have to do now to get Baby X out is to stay up all night. But that just sounds exhausting.

Are you tired of me being pregnant yet? Me too. Let's get this limbo period over with.

Now, who is still in the running for the much coveted toonie?

Faux 'Mo Husband - June 6th, Boy

Aaron Hiven - June 8th, Girl

McK - June 10th, Boy

Amander - June 13th, Boy

Lil - June 15th, Girl

Chaps - June 16th, Boy

Aisy - June 18th, Boy

MLC - July 30th, Gender Unknown (aka The Cruelest of Guesses)

Encouraging Labor

2011-05-30T12:37:00.004-06:00

E. Hiven wants to move his guess up a notch... I hope this isn't jinxing both of us, my friend. Kevvy, Christmas and MJ have all been knocked out, much to my chagrin. And possibly theirs. We're left with:

K-Rock Hiven - May 30th, Boy

Faux 'Mo Husband - June 6th, Boy

Aaron Hiven - June 8th, Girl

McK - June 10th, Boy

Amander - June 13th, Boy

Lil - June 15th, Girl

Chaps - June 16th, Boy

Aisy - June 18th, Boy

MLC - July 30th, Gender Unknown (aka The Cruelest of Guesses)

I've been so convinced all along that Baby X would come early. Now I'm convinced that the reason he/she hasn't come yet is because I haven't figured out how to make that happen. No, labor doesn't happen when the baby's ready; labor happens when the pregnant woman in question finally solves the puzzle and discovers how to make herself go into labor. I just need to think harder. No, I'm not a "scientist" or a "medical doctor" but, in my nearly 38-week pregnant mind, this isn't a theory, it's a fact.

Popular ways to induce labor:

- Red Leaf Raspberry Tea (I've been drinking it for weeks. It doesn't taste good.)

- Long Walks (I've been doing this almost daily and usually while carrying my 30-lb toddler, which should give me extra points.)

- Spicy Foods (Food in general isn't terribly appealing to me right now, but it may be time to eat a jalapeno.)

- Serious Nipple Tweaking (I'm not keen on this on a good day. Purple Nurples do not equal sexiness in my book. But maybe if the jalapenos don't work...)

- Running Up and Down Stairs (My sister claims this gave her contractions, so it might be worth a shot.)

- An Enema (Stop being so squeamish. I actually tried this with my first pregnancy and was successful. I know of at least two more preggos who also had luck. Coincidence? Perhaps, but this also helps alleviate the fears of pooping on the table during delivery. Either way it sounds like a good idea. Now will someone go and buy me one? I'm far too embarrassed.)

MLC has informed me that I am only allowed to give birth during the times between Thursday evening and Sunday at 5pm. He would also prefer it if I didn't give birth in the middle of the night. My dad has informed me that sailing season is upon us and he's quite anxious to get out to the boat. The longer I wait to have this baby, the longer he has to wait to go because his first mate also happens to be my mother and I am NOT having a baby without her around.

See how many people are feeling inconvenienced by my not having a baby? It's gotta happen. And soon.

Open Letter to BH

2011-05-29T13:25:00.003-06:00

Dear Braxton Hicks,

You are getting a little too convincing and, as a result, I got very little sleep last night. In between regular contractions I was thinking things like, "I'm not ready! We're almost out of milk and bananas!" and, "But I wanted to wash and style my hair before I went into labor so I could look good for the pictures!"

Yes, yes, I'm aware that no one looks good during/after having a baby, but contractions 5-10 minutes apart don't really make me the most reasonable person in the world.

Lil G currently has a face full of gashes and war wounds from wiping out on concrete (the weather's been nice for the first time in a week so you can hardly blame him for enthusiastically running and losing control) and I've even considered how that will look on the photos we're bound to keep for years to come.

Why am I so obsessed with how these pictures will turn out?

Sorry, Braxton Hicks, the last part of this letter really has nothing to do with you; I just forgot I was writing a letter in the first place. Right. So. You stay out of my uterus and leave the contracting to whatever forces make the baby come out.

Sincerely,

A Net

Sadly, Christmas and Kevvy have been knocked out of the bet. Let's see how the rest of you fare...

More Guesses

2011-05-28T12:54:00.002-06:00

We (I) just added another player to the game I like to call, When will this Torture End? Good luck, Mr. Hiven, but I hope the wee one comes out sooner than you've guessed. This weekend would be great.

Kevvy/Christmas - May 28th, Girl

MJ Chompson - May 29th, Girl

K-Rock Hiven - May 30th, Boy

Faux 'Mo Husband - June 6th, Boy

McK - June 10th, Boy

Amander - June 13th, Boy

Lil - June 15th, Girl

Chaps - June 16th, Boy

Aaron Hiven - June 17th, Girl

Aisy - June 18th, Boy

MLC - July 30th, Gender Unknown (aka The Cruelest of Guesses)

And now to mop the floors, or as I like to call it, When will this Torture End? Hmm... is it just me or does that title sound familiar?

In Your Guesstimation...

2011-05-26T12:13:00.002-06:00

There are a few more guesses to add to the list:

Kevvy/Christmas - May 28th, Girl (If you two are right, I'll send toonies to both of you. I like you so much you're worth the $4.)

MJ Chompson - May 29th, Girl

K-Rock Hiven - May 30th, Boy

Faux 'Mo Husband - June 6th, Boy

McK - June 10th, Boy

Amander - June 13th, Boy

Lil - June 15th, Girl

Chaps - June 16th, Boy

Aisy - June 18th, Boy

MLC - July 30th, Gender Unknown (aka The Cruelest of Guesses)

For some reason I had it in my head that I was going to go into labor last night and have the baby this afternoon. I'm thinking that "some reason" should actually fall under the heading of "wishful thinking." While I've been getting regular evening contractions every night for the past 5 weeks, nothing has come of it. My uterus has had enough practice by now. Let's get this show on the road!!!

I'm starting to threaten Baby X that if he/she doesn't get off my sciatic nerve and make an appearance soon, he/she won't get any Christmas presents. Of course this threat is empty and weightless seeing how for his/her first Christmas, Baby X will only be about 7 months old and therefore completely unaware of how awesome presents are. Perhaps I should coax Baby X out with some marshmallows? They are an effective bribe for getting Lil G to let me cut his nails... Whoops--I mean, I'm a really good mom and I don't bribe my child when he starts to look like a ragtag. In fact, I never bribe my child. Ever.

The Boob

2011-05-24T12:35:00.002-06:00

I've been very vocal about my inability to breastfeed Lil G. It seems my ample bosoms are only good for catching crumbs and balancing bowls of cereal. Oh yeah--and attracting pervy old men at a young age.

So determined was I to be a champion breastfeeder that I took 30 pills a day (a combination of prescription drugs and herbal supplements), spent hundreds of dollars renting a hospital grade pump and saw a myriad of experts. The theory was this: if I took my thirty pills a day, pumped every 2-3 hours while someone else bottle fed G whatever I had previously pumped, followed by a bottle of supplemental formula, I would eventually start producing enough milk to feed him myself. Here is a little flashback of my life during that time:

I am sitting topless and degraded on my couch, attached to the hospital grade pump that is going to town simultaneously on both of my breasts. My mom is sitting next to me, snuggling my baby and giving him his measly half an ounce of breastmilk (it took twenty minutes of hardcore pumping to get that out of me) followed by several ounces of formula. MLC walks in, home from work. He takes one look at me and guffaws incredulously, "You're being MILKED!" May I remind you that he is a doctor, ladies and gentlemen.

After two too many weeks of this, I finally listened to my supportive husband, mother and sisters who realized that by putting myself through this, I was having trouble bonding with the baby and was only aggravating my postpartum depression. Yes, my baby got 100% formula from then on. A dark and miserable cloud lifted. MLC started taking the 5am feedings. I got to hold my little guy while I fed him. More importantly, I returned the hospital grade pump that had turned my boobs into udders.

Making that decision did not come without shame or guilt. Especially when strangers would comment, "I breastfed all four of my sons" and friends would exclaim, "Formula is poison!" Really. Breast vs Bottle seems to be a topic anyone and everyone seems to feel comfortable judging you for.

There's a great chapter in Tina Fey's book, Bossypants, about her difficulties with breastfeeding and how friends would claim their children would have higher IQ's than the formula-fed wee ones. Her advice to the bottle-feeders: when strangers ask you if you're breastfeeding your new baby, you owe it to yourself and your child to respond, "Yes, I'm breastfeeding and it's amazing."

So. There you have it. Should my breasts continue to be functional only as a portable shelf, I am not going to beat myself up. I'm going to look at Lil G, remind myself that he's a really smart, loving and empathetic little guy and then stick a bottle of formula into the new baby's mouth.

Please Note: I really do admire the mothers out there who breastfeed their babies and not just because they're saving approximately $200 a month on formula. Like I said, if I could breastfeed, I would. But my bosoms are mostly decorative.

Updated Dates

2011-05-21T13:18:00.004-06:00

Things are heating up! Kevin has won a soft spot in my heart for picking a May date and Aislinn has kindly offered to put me in a headlock, for old times' sake.

I found out that as of Wednesday, when I am 37 weeks along, the baby is considered fully cooked (I may be paraphrasing here) and ready to come out. With that bit of inspiration, I've been choking down a pot of Red Leaf Raspberry Tea every day and walking (waddling?) around in attempts to encourage the baby to make an early appearance.

Are other things going on in my life? Probably--I seem to be rather busy as of late, but once you get to this point it's difficult not to be fixated on getting the baby out. I'm pretty sure I'm still remembering to feed and hug my toddler and my husband.

Here's the updated list of guesses:

Kevvy - May 28th, Girl

Faux 'Mo Husband - June 6th, Boy

McK - June 10th, Boy

Amander - June 13th, Boy

Lil - June 15th, Girl

Chaps - June 16th, Boy

Aisy - June 18th, Boy

*MLC - July 30th, Gender Unknown

*Does MLC deserve a punch in the arm for this? Yes. Will he get one? I don't know, he's too far away right now and my memory's not great.

(very slow) Race for a Loonie!

2011-05-16T13:24:00.002-06:00

Let's look at the bets so far:

Faux 'Mo Husband - June 6th, Boy

Amander - June 13th, Boy

Chaps - June 16th, Boy

Aisy - June 18th, Boy

First of all, I think your guesses are mean. Not the "boy" part--though I'm surprised you're all guessing a boy because this entire pregnancy everyone (including strangers) has been guessing I'm carrying a girl. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, the reason I'm offended by your guesses. Why not MAY??? Don't you people know I'm uncomfortable???

Anyone else want to play or do I have to up the reward to a toonie (aka two-dollar coin and should therefore be spelled "twonie")?

For the most part, I'm fairly confident in my mothering skills. I mean, I'm fairly confident in my mothering skills when I'm not asking myself questions, such as:

Is Lil G eating enough fruits and vegetables?

Is he hitting all of his milestones?

Would it be wrong to drug him so I can finally cut his damn hair without dealing with a tantrum of epic proportions?

... and so on and so forth. Despite feeling as though, for the most part, I have a handle on raising my kid and despite the proof that, after two years, MLC, Lil G and I are all still relatively intact, I can't help but wonder...

How do you take care of a newborn baby again?!

The first year of Lil G's life is such a blur. I have vague recollections of meconium diapers (if you don't know what this is, chances are you don't want to know), colic, tummy time, starting him on solid foods, first illnesses, stressing over whether he was rolling front to back and back to front, surrounding him with pillows as he first learned to sit up, etc. That said, I'm fairly certain that it will all come back to me when the new one arrives, but perhaps I should be brushing up on some of my parenting literature... you know, just in case.

Mommy Amnesia is a term I've heard before, usually in relation to replacing all of the 'Nam-type memories with yearnings for a second baby. I've just never thought that Mommy Amnesia could also refer to forgetting the important and useful skills you picked up during Baby 'Nam.

I'm sure we'll all be fine. (ahem)

The Polls Are Open

2011-05-11T13:26:00.003-06:00

At my last doctor's appointment, I was informed that Baby X is currently "locked and loaded." Now, I'm no expert, but I still feel that metaphor conjures a misleading comparison between pushing a human out of your nether-regions and exerting minimal force to pull a trigger and have a bullet come shooting out of a barrel.

If it were that simple, I would be mighty tempted to squeeze the trigger this afternoon. The novelty of the baby's sweet squirminess in my womb is being overshadowed by the continuous afternoon nausea. Not to mention the aches and pains.

Hey--anyone want to take a guess as to the delivery date and gender of Baby X? My due date is officially June 15th. Lovely Amander was the big winner last time round, correctly guessing Grayson's birthday AND gender. She was rewarded with... Oh. Whoops. Uh... She was rewarded with the comforting feeling of being a temporary clairvoyant?

I think you need an added incentive for this round. Whomever correctly guesses Baby X's birthday and gender will be sent a shiny Canadian loonie in the mail. For my friends south of the border (why does that sound dirty?), depending on the day, that could be worth anywhere from 80 cents to $1.05 American. Ooooh yeah! Now you ALL want to play the game! Have at 'er.

Maaaamaaaaa!

2011-05-08T04:55:00.003-06:00

Dear Self,

I'm not sure who to blame for this--Head or Body--but two hours of sleep is definitely not enough. I have the feeling you're both slightly responsible. Let's just move ahead, have a nice nap when Lil G has his afternoon snooze, and get a solid eight hours tomorrow night. Deal? Deal.

Sincerely,

It's officially the day devoted to mamas everywhere and I feel privileged to be amongst the bunch.

I'm still at a stage where the love of my little one is fierce and unconditional. Sure, he may have meltdowns because he wants "treats" and I want to convince him that an orange and a cup of milk is a treat, and he may get frustrated because he wants to wear his pajamas all day while I want to put regular clothes on him, but the bottom line is, my little guy is truly devoted to me. He gives me hundreds of reasons a day to smile, laugh, and love him--even when I'm pregnant, barfy, achey and exhausted.. It's a pretty good deal.

I also feel lucky because my mothering skills are so strongly informed by my experiences with my own mother. I've thought of her as a superhero for years and, even continuing into her mid-sixties, she's still exhibiting the strength and selflessness beyond that of a normal human.

Oprah likes to say that being a mom is the hardest job in the world. Oprah also likes to think she's a mom simply because she has dogs. I think Oprah's a bit of a nutjob, but I do agree that there's nothing more challenging than raising a child. There's also nothing more rewarding.

Much happiness to the mamas out there. Even on the days you're pretty sure you'd like to put your kids up for sale on kijiji, you know you live and breathe for them.

xoxo

Cranny-Pants

2011-05-05T13:25:00.004-06:00

On the downside, both Gray and I have been ill this week. On the upside, we've taken breaks from being productive to cuddle on the couch, eat ice cream and watch Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. Repeatedly. He loves the giant donuts and yet doesn't like donuts himself. I happen think donuts are pretty tasty, but no longer have any room in my stomach for food. Baby X is getting bigger and taking over every nook and cranny.

And now, a One-Act Play from the Over-communication files.

LIGHTS UP.

MAN is reading a magazine in bed. Likely some boring issue about cars and/or tires. WOMAN, great with child, is changing into pajama-like attire.

WOMAN: So, I realized I'm getting to the point where my cute underwear is no longer sufficient for my lovely pregnant lady lumps.

MAN: Okay.

WOMAN: This is a warning: I am about to put on the most gigantic pair of underwear you have ever seen me don. We are talking granny-panties of epic proportions.

MAN: Okay.

WOMAN puts on a pair of underwear that first appears to be enormous, but end up fitting quite comfortably.

WOMAN: (eyes welling with tears) Oh. They fit. And more in a "bikini brief" kind of way than a "granny-panty" kind of way.

MAN: (manages to make a noncommittal sound while staring intently at his magazine to avoid trouble) Mhmmmhm.

WOMAN takes the giant underwear off, stuffs them to the back of the drawer and squeezes back into a pair of cute underwear. MUSIC CUE: "My Humps" by Black Eyed Peas.

BLACKOUT.

Name Game

2011-04-27T22:34:00.003-06:00

A One-Act Play

LIGHTS up. WOMAN, who is great with child, and MAN sit side-by-side on the couch. She has just given him yet another list of potential baby names.

MAN: These names are terrible! Rothwell? Isn't that a tv show?

WOMAN: First of all, the name I suggested is Rockwell. Secondly, the show you're thinking of is Roswell. Huh. Roswell. Let's throw that name in the bunch.

MAN: No. NO. These are all terrible suggestions.

WOMAN: (under her breath) Gwen Stefani could get away with naming her baby Rockwell.

LIGHTS down.

Silly Thoughts

2011-04-26T15:22:00.003-06:00

Several months ago, I had these silly thoughts:

"I don't want to deal with two kids in diapers, so I'm going to have Lil G potty trained by the time the baby comes."

Reality: Hah!

"I'm going to have Lil G out of his crib and settled into his big boy bed in his new room several months before my due date."

Reality: Hah, hah!

The silly thought I'm still clinging desperately to:

"I'm pretty sure I have some control over when I go into labor. I just need to wait for my parents to get back from Italy and then I'm kicking this baby out of my womb."

blink blink

2011-04-22T23:14:00.004-06:00

Three days ago I was boasting to my sister that, despite being in my third trimester, I was sleeping better than I had my entire pregnancy. "Eight hours a night plus an hour-long nap every day," I bragged, feeling quite pleased with the situation and how rested I felt.

Three days ago, the personification of Pregnancy Insomnia heard my declarations and began to sing a slightly off-key cover of Blondie's, "One way or another I'm gonna find ya, I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha..."

Well, PPI, you've got me. My boy-man and man-boy are deep in the comforting arms of slumber and I'm sitting at a computer eating graham crackers.

Before you look at the day of the week (Friday) and the time I am writing this (between 11pm and midnight), bear in mind that I wake up between 6 and 6:30 am every day. Every day. So, yes, I retain the right to proclaim that I have insomnia during hours the rest of the world considers to be "awake time."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to become better acquainted with my pantry and my PVR.

But first, I'd like to tell the Chompsons what a bang-up job they did on their master bedroom makeover. Lookin' good, my friends. One day we may actually get to see your new house in person!

Open Letter to the Fetus

2011-04-18T13:18:00.002-06:00

Dear Baby X,

While I'm sure you are adorable, beginning another cycle of nightly vomiting is not. My brother told me to refer to my morning/night sickness as "technicolor joy" thinking it would make the experience more pleasant. Good advice, but I need some reassurance from you.

Look, this pregnancy has been no picnic. Or rather, it's been a picnic where the guests all have rampant mood swings and then everybody gets food poisoning. There are a few promises I need you to keep in order to make this up to me:

1. You need to be an angel baby. No colic, Child, or I'm giving you to the neighbours. The weird socially awkward neighbours, not the lovely happy family to the left.

2. If you are a boy, I expect that you and your older brother will fight at some point, just try to avoid each others' faces. No black eyes, no bloody noses, no knocking out of teeth.

3. If you are a girl, you are not allowed to go through the teenage phase where you hate me. You must like me throughout your life.

Thanks, Darling. I'm looking forward to meeting you, so try not to overstay your welcome in my uterus. Or you can expect an eviction notice in a few weeks...

Lots of Love,

Mama

Attempts to Age Gracefully

2011-04-16T17:26:00.002-06:00

There's a jam session going on upstairs. It sounds almost as entertaining as the early morning dance party I witnessed. Two-year olds are awesome.

We went to a birthday party this morning for Lil G's girlfriend. It was a whole pile of fun and made me appreciate this stage MLC and I are finding ourselves in. And in a few years when we're blessed with a bit more freedom, the fabulous family vacations will start.

Will someone remind me of this optimism in two months when I have a newborn, postpartum depression and am crying with fatigue? That'd be great, thanks.

For the first time, I was able to see my favourite Shakespeare play performed last night. It was decent, save for a pretty brilliant moment in the second act, and brought me to the following conclusions:

1. I really love contemporary theatre and miss seeing it on a regular basis. If I were to start my own company today, I would put the emphasis on new works. The classics are classics for a reason, but I find the voices of modern playwrights to be much more compelling.

2. I don't actually want to start my own theatre company today.

3. Taking a step back from pursuing a theatre career has given me a better perspective on it. If I do end up returning to theatre, you know, after I finish popping out and raising this baby, I think I'll be able to take a smarter approach.

A few years ago a friend/coworker of mine turned 40. She was thrilled to have the stupidity of her twenties behind her and the transitional time of her thirties in her past. I'm have no desire to relive my youth, nor do I shed tears over times gone by. There are people I miss from my twenties, devastatingly so, but keep the time machine away from me, Doc. I'm not stepping in that DeLorean for anything.

Kid-Free Adventures

2011-04-12T13:33:00.003-06:00

MLC and I had a lovely weekend away. How does one party when one's uber-pregnant? By eating lobster at fancy restaurants and taking bubble baths in the middle of the day.

Oh yeah--and by becoming a tad confrontational.

A cabbie may have tried to take advantage of us by taking a longer route from our hotel to the airport and I may have responded by throwing money at him and exploding, "We happen to know there's a far cheaper route to get here!!!" and MLC may have felt this was an overreaction to an extra $8 cab ride and a way to get stabbed.

But I'm not the only one who gets confrontational this far along in pregnancy... Let me tell you what happened when two TSA employees tried telling MLC that the full-body scan was safer for his knocked up wife than a metal detector...

MLC: I'm a doctor and I've read the studies! One in ten thousand people will get skin cancer from those scans."

TSA Employee #1: Sir, please wait for your wife over here.

TSA Employee #2: (to me) Do you know how much radiation you're being exposed to by just going on a plane?

Long story short, I got to second base with "TSA Employee #3" (who was as much a gentleman as she was a lady) and MLC and I both received apologies from TSA Employee #1.

Oh--and that statistic MLC was championing about skin cancer? He made it up. Although, in his defense, there are studies showing the full-body scans could cause skin cancer, there just aren't any specific numbers backing up that claim.

Now... Who wants to go on vacation with MLC and I???

Lil G's obsession with the Red Hot Chili Peppers continues to flourish and I continue wondering whether I've got a musical prodigy on my hands or a future garage band member.

Name-O and Cake-O

2011-04-06T12:34:00.004-06:00

The G-man has decided to name his baby sibling Daisy, after Daisy Duck. Regardless if it's a boy or a girl.

The world would be a better place if we let two-year olds make more decisions. Did I say, "better?" I meant "funnier."

My parents are in town for a few days before jetting off to Italy for three weeks. The bonus? When I suddenly feel as though I can't live without a piece of cake, I call them and say, "Can you bring me a piece of cake when you come over this afternoon?" and they oblige! Without mockery or complaints! Every preggo should be so lucky.

Statistic

2011-03-30T13:05:00.003-06:00

I'm no statistician, but I calculated that I make approximately one offensive/inappropriate comment every hour. Does this seem high?

I've been invited out to an upcoming movie night with a handful of women. I sort of know one of them. I had an hour-long play date at her house today and I'm pretty sure I only made one somewhat offensive remark--and it was early on. My son, on the other hand, made several offensive odours, but he's too young to be helped in that department.

Perhaps, on the movie date, my best bet is to keep my mouth shut until I suss out the climate, sense-of-humour-wise.

(sigh) Now I totally know how Michelle from The Bachelor feels. So misunderstood.

For Rufus, it's cigarettes and chocolate milk.

2011-03-28T13:35:00.003-06:00

As often happens with subsequent pregnancies, I've been getting a fair amount of contractions. I was telling this to my sister, who has the not-so-secret desire to be the boss of me, and she replied, "You need to do two things. First, you need to stop carrying around Grayson so much..."

Uh-oh, this could lead to public two-year old temper tantrums in which I look like a strung-out preggo instead of a woman and a mother who is conquering the world...

"...and you need to cut out caffeine. Completely."

But it's the highlight of my day! And I'm staying well under the recommended limit! And I've been dreaming about putting a scoop of chocolate ice cream in a Coke for as long as I can remember! Which is probably since this morning... My brain is foggy. Probably from lack of caffeine and chocolate ice cream. Wait--what were we talking about?

The internet told me to rest more and drink lots of water. I'm pretty sure there's water in both Coke AND ice cream.

Stop judging me.

I mentioned on facebook that Lil G's hair is starting to resemble Steve Sanders from 90210, circa 1990, in both puffiness and curl. The question is: do I rush him out for a haircut or do I wait to see what the next stage in this hair evolution will be? What if it morphs into something awesome, like... uh.... Crap. I should probably take him for a haircut, huh?

Confessional

2011-03-21T13:15:00.003-06:00

While it is rather lovely to have a baby for free (it has cost my sister in St. Louis approximately $10,000 per baby pop and she HAS insurance), there are some compromises. One of those compromises is, up until today, I have not seen the same baby doctor twice at the clinic.

Hey--wanna take a wild guess as to which doctor I got for the second time?

No, not Maternal-Ginger-Doctor, who praised me and my two-year old the entire appointment.

Yes, that's right, Dr. 90-Pounds-Never-Been-Pregnant.

She and I reconciled today, partially because I've gained a total of 20-lbs this pregnancy, which is right on track, and partially because she was completely oblivious to my rage against her. That said, if she happens to be the one on call when I go into labour, I'm throwing her out of the delivery room at the first insensitive remark and forcing MLC to deliver Baby X.

The other compromise that comes with having a free baby in this health care system? The shared room at the hospital. I might be willing to shell out $10,000 for some peace and privacy after I tear my body in two getting a human from my insides to the outside world.

I have made no secret of what happens when Annette meets Crazy Pregnancy Hormones. Typing in third person is perhaps yet another side effect. But I digress. Here's a short (and embarrassing) list of things that have moved me to tears within the past couple of weeks:

1. Chantal O. from The Bachelor. Yes, I started watching this show as a sarcastic mocker and then MLC knocked me up and I became emotionally involved. I hope you find true love, Chantal!

2. "Raise Your Glass" by Pink. For the record (no pun intended), I don't even like this song. I usually change the station when it comes on the radio, but I left it on the other day and teared up when she started singing to "the underdogs". I imagined all the awkward teenagers out there who found comfort in her words.

3. Easy A, the movie. This is probably the one I'm least embarrassed about. I thought it was a clever movie and that I was clever for tricking MLC into watching it. (I told him it was a "teen sex romp" and he started imagining the American Pie movies and jumped on board.)

There you have it. I promise to become smarter, classier and more sophisticated in a few months. Wait--let's be honest: the postpartum hormones are just as bad as the pregnancy hormones, so maybe you should give me a full year. Or two. Depending on sleep deprivation.

Why don't you make some embarrassing admissions to make me feel better, hm???

A One-Act Play

LIGHTS UP. MAN is sitting at the computer, probably looking at car websites. WOMAN enters in all her super pregnant glory. She goes to stand beside him and the sheer beach ball-edness of her belly partially obstructs the computer screen.

WOMAN: Do you want to know what I really want right now?

MAN: (warily) What?

WOMAN: I want a Diet Coke mixed with chocolate syrup and a scoop or two of butterscotch ripple ice cream.

MAN: Diet Coke? Why wouldn't you just make that with a regular Coke?

WOMAN: (devoid of irony) Because I don't want to get fat.

Sensing there is nothing he can say that won't get him in trouble, MAN wisely keeps his mouth shut.

LIGHTS DOWN.

And, finally, I would like you all to know that my musical prodigy of a child played the "air piano" yesterday while singing Pink Floyd's "The Wall Part II". It's one of his favourite songs. Okay, so he didn't sing the entire song, just the "Teacher! Leave those kids alone!" part. Solid gold.

Rain

2011-03-14T13:19:00.003-06:00

Kevin - MLC and I have visited the website. It's most helpful, thank you!

Lillith - Like the subtle theme idea.

Christmas - What if I named the baby Noel if it's a boy and Noelle if it's a girl? It's like your REAL name, only en francais.

Hailey - No idea on the babe's flavour. Should probably stay away from G names as Lil G has two in his initials already. Also thinking of staying away from names that end in "son" so we don't end up with a "Grayson" and "Mason" effect. Beyond that, let 'er rip!

While it doesn't take much to make me irate in my current state, it also doesn't take much to make me blissfully happy. This afternoon, for instance, I found delight in a nap, some post-nap caffeine and some two-bite brownies. Awwww yeahhhhh....

My nap was extra delicious because MLC and I purchased a sound machine for ourselves this weekend.

(ahem) It may have been as a result of me bursting into tears when I was awoken by yet another train on Saturday.

I got a sound machine for my little guy long ago and it helps him sleep quite peacefully. I've found that when I put mine on the rain setting, I drift off to sleep imagining I live in the pacific northwest and there are no trains for miles and miles. MLC finds that when I turn on the sound machine, I turn down the crazy. It's a win-win.

Which brings me to Reason #2918 why this will most likely be our last child: I'm not sure MLC could stay married to me through another pregnancy. I think I already owe him an awesome present for putting up with me the past 27 weeks. And, no, the baby, who will probably be wonderful in his/her own way, is not the awesome present.

Evening Standard

2011-03-09T19:15:00.004-07:00

Lil G sure gets moody when he's even remotely hungry or tired, I thought to myself this afternoon, Why does that sound familiar?

Chalk one up for self-awareness, ladies and gents.

Chalk another one up for my caramel popcorn-making skills.

And chalk a final one up for my tenacity as a preggo. I am currently corresponding with CP Rail and my alderman regarding the loud and unnecessary train whistles that have been robbing me of sleep. I'm getting a lot of cliched red-tape and bureaucracy, but it sets my mind somewhat at ease to at least be doing something other than complaining to loved ones about it. Not that I don't consider my alderman a "loved one." Let me tell you, I will kiss that man on the mouth if he claims victory over the rail. I may even slip him the tongue.

When I tell you that the baby's coming in three months and we have ZERO name ideas, I'm not being coy. Name my baby, already!

Lillith - I sure do like you and your posts.

Bri-Bri - NYC is at the top of our list, but I don't think it's doable this time round. With the 5 + hour flights, only two nights, and being 32 weeks along (translation: unable to walk more than a block without crying, "Oooh, my sciatica!") it just wouldn't work. Oh, how I wish it would. Looks like MLC and I are about two or three years away from a New York trip.

The Rest of You - I thought I told you to name my baby. Get on it.

Counting Sleep

2011-03-06T13:32:00.004-07:00

Sleep makes life infinitely better for all of us around here. Lil G's feeling much healthier and is back to his darling self, which includes amusing antics and good sleeping habits. I applied some "sleep training" principles to both the Little Guy and the Tall Guy and, for the second day in a row, they're both been enjoying 2 hr + naps. (You may wonder why MLC needs such hefty naps, but he's the one who passed the early-rising gene onto our son. This weekend, MLC got out of bed around 4am. That's just not right.)

Anybody else need me to sleep train them?

The turnaround has also got MLC and I talking about a Last Huzzah before Baby X arrives (side note: if someone out there doesn't step up and name this poor child, so help me, I will write "X" on the birth certificate.) We'd like to do a quick weekend vacation sans Lil G in mid-April. Granted, I will be even more cumbersome by that point and doing the humiliating Pregnant Lady Shuffle, but I still think it's a grand idea. Who knows when MLC and I will ever have the opportunity again???

So, now I can officially apologize for my stretch as Debbie Downer and tell you that the A-Team wasn't the answer. Good health was. And that whole sleep thing I mentioned in paragraph one. In fact, I'm going to say it again: sleep makes life better. And so do Cadbury Creme Eggs.

Do you have the A-Team theme song in your head yet?

2011-03-03T13:22:00.005-07:00

If I were a member of the A-Team, I'd probably be B.A. Baracus. And not because I have a penchant for wearing gold jewelry or because I'm sporting a sweet mohawk. I'll admit it: I have a Bad Attitude. I'm aware of this and would like you to know that I'd much rather be Face or Hannibal.

Now, I have a million excuses for my 'tude.

1. My kid's been sick for almost three weeks now, which has affected his desire to sleep through the night which has, therefore, affected my ability to sleep through the night.

2. I'm pregnant. Therein lies the other 99, 999 reasons for my mental state.

I'm sure if I were a bubbly optimist, I could come up with a million and ONE reasons to have a good attitude. That's just not me. Instead, I'll find other ways to be more like Face and Hannibal and less like B.A. Baracus.

To Be More Like Face: I will spend some time on my coiffure and my make-up, bringing me to my most foxy level.

To Be More Like Hannibal: I will hatch a great scheme, ask MLC to go along with it when he gets home from work and then pretend to smoke a cigar as I wryly remark, "I love it when a plan comes together."

I guess adjusting my attitude isn't so difficult after all.

High

2011-02-28T12:52:00.002-07:00

Instead of whining about how three weeks of lil illness sucks and about how MLC, The Boy and I experienced the worst flight ever, I'm going to talk about the highlights of this high life...

- taking Lil G on a golf cart through a gorgeous course to chase bunnies and birds

- going on a date with MLC and eating chocolate while enjoying warm evening weather

- checking out the aquarium and trying to explain to Grayson that he can't go swimming with the sharks, alligators and stingrays

- watching the love between Lil G and two out of his three girl cousins (the third got in his face too much, which he didn't appreciate)

- hot-tubbing at a responsible temperature for a preggo

- taking in the desert sunsets

There you have it. We're back from AZ, still sick, stuck in horrific weather, but we've got some good memories behind us.

Another good thing? I had a perfectly lovely baby doctor at my appointment this morning who praised me for being right on with my weight, size and blood pressure. I think I'll have some cookies to celebrate.

Coma = Bliss

2011-02-17T10:32:00.002-07:00

After a week of the dark illness that descended upon our house, more specifically, upon Lil G, I am starting to see a very faint light.

This week was fraught with sleepless nights and a whole lot of crying--not just from The Boy--his hormonal and exhausted mother may have shed a few tears. It is by far the worst sickness we've had in a year.

This morning, however, we turned a corner. Last night was another sleepless night, but around 7:30 am, Lil G crawled in bed with me, climbed on my head and fell asleep there. On my head. He was like a toy koala clinging to a pencil; his legs wrapped around my jaw line, his hands covering my eyebrows and his little cheek pressed against the top of my hair. I'm not saying it was comfortable and I may have been a little claustrophobic, but he fell asleep and that's what counts. After an hour I extracted myself and he is still in a coma on my bed. It's been over three hours.

Is that a chorus of angels singing "hallelujah" I hear?

Tomorrow we leave for AZ and providing we make it through the flight, we all just might survive after all.

I'd like to thank the following people and organizations for helping to get us through this hellish week:

- Coca-Cola (go judge somebody else--I stayed well under the recommended caffeine amount)

- The Wiggles, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Curious George

- The pan of undercooked brownies, complete with a heart made out of sprinkles, I had intended as a romantic gesture for MLC on Valentine's Day

- MLC for finding the pan of undercooked brownies inedible, leaving them for me to live off for two or three days

- The inventor of sweatpants

Monday Letters

2011-02-07T13:17:00.002-07:00

Lil G,

Thank you for potty training yourself, you're doing a great job so far. It's nice of you to make up for being such a horrific baby by being such a lovely toddler.

Also, let's keep the fact that you were playing with a Barbie today between us. Your dad already thinks that the music and gymnastics classes we go to aren't "manly" enough. When he comes home can you grunt a few times and then do some impersonations of classic WWF wrestlers? I'll teach you how to best embody Jake the Snake Roberts and Brutus the Barber Beefcake.

Lots of love,

MOM!

Dear Giant Snow Fall,

Thank you for silencing the trains by absorbing the sound of their obnoxious whistles. There's nothing better than having a kid sleep for 12 hours straight at night and then a couple more hours during the day. The results of this snowfall are making me a better and less scary mother, wife and person. Sleep is delicious.

Sincerely,

Curly-Haired A-Net

Dear Fellow Board Members,

I would really love to attend the meeting tonight, but the roads are terrible due to the big dump of snow we recently received. More importantly, I would rather cuddle on the couch with MLC and make fun of the crazies on the Bachelor than go to a meeting tonight. What? That's not a valid excuse? Fine. I'll see you all tonight.

Begrudgingly,

Board Secretary

Dear Steve Martin,

My love for your brain continues to flourish as I read your latest novel. Thanks to you, I now want to move to NYC and get a job working for an art dealer. This is only mildly more reasonable than when I read Born Standing Up and decided I wanted to become a stand-up comedian.

Fondly,

Your Most Rotund Fan

Funnel (Cake) Vision

2011-02-03T13:34:00.004-07:00

When I was preggo with Lil G, my sister (who was also knocked up at the time) and I used to have lengthy conversations about food. We particularly loved discussing the merits of the potato and the many different ways we'd like to eat that versatile starch.

Clearly, my condition makes me a little crazy, I won't deny that. It also gives me a case of tunnel vision. The majority of my thoughts during the day revolve around my amazing toddler who drives me crazy and makes me laugh, MLC and food. In fact, if I were to make a pie chart detailing my thoughts, it would probably be chocolate pumpkin pie with fresh whipped cream. Wait. What were we talking about again? Oh. Right.

Are any of you wide-eyed with disgust that I'm giving no thought to myself or my many "passions"? First of all, my husband and kid get special mention because I'm around them so often, and you know the adage, "in sight, in mind." Secondly, please don't use the word "passion" around me right now as it will do nothing but illicit an exaggerated eye roll. Thirdly, I'm still devouring many wonderful books at wicked speed (I'm currently reading Steve Martin's latest novel) but the fact remains: I'm required to be pretty selfless right now. Whether or not I succeed is another story. I squeeze in pockets of time for myself and...ugh. This is boring and getting us nowhere. Let's talk about pie again. Or, better yet, treacle pudding with custard! Yeah! I'm also interested in engaging in a detailed dialogue with someone about poutine.

The Chompsons dropped a moving bomb on those of us who know them. I remember when they held a housewarming party the day they moved into their current house. Obviously they are two people who can get everything done in a short amount of time. Congratulations, you two! MLC and I hope to see the new house soon!

Another Letter or Two

2011-01-26T12:44:00.002-07:00

Apparently my last update came across as somewhat...hostile. So much so, that Bri-Bri disinvited me to the reunion I can't attend (I thought we were going to renew our vows!!!) and made reference to "Curly-Haired Annette." (My faux 'mo husband believes Curly-Haired Annette is mean and Straight-Haired Annette is mostly nice.)

Would it make you all feel better if I wrote that doctor another letter? Here we go...

Dear Dr. 90-lbs-Never-Been-Pregnant,

Perhaps I was a bit harsh yesterday and used some inappropriate language. No woman likes to be criticized for gaining weight, even when she's supposed to be packing on some pounds. Please be more sensitive in the future to possible buttons you could be pushing. This includes my outie belly button.

There is a lovely nurse at a nearby public health clinic you should get to know. Her name is Jennifer. She told me she couldn't tell I was pregnant and that I look "fantastic." She has three kids. Learn from her. I don't care if she was lying, you are supposed to lie to women who are great with child.

I know, I know, I often say how much I value honesty in relationships and how I'd rather have someone hurt my feelings and be honest with me than to lie to me. There's an exception to every rule.

Good luck with your future appointments and may you avoid getting punched out by any of your other patients.

Sincerely,

While I'm writing open letters...

Dear MLC,

Remember when I told you the doctor reprimanded me for gaining too much weight and you gently suggested I cut out my daily serving of Hint of Lime Tostitos? Please see the comments from my last post. You are outnumbered.

Also, I look hottt and don't you forget it.

Love Always,

The Netter

7 Pounds--no, not the boring Will Smith movie

2011-01-25T13:38:00.003-07:00

Ultrasound result: one baby, two arms, two legs, one head, and one relieved mama.

Doctor's appointment result: some doctors should not be allowed around pregnant women. Allow me to explain:

A young, thin female, who clearly just got out of residency, was filling in for my baby doctor yesterday morning. And she reprimanded me. It all began when I got on the scale...

"Seven pounds in four weeks!" exclaimed the doctor, "That's quite a jump! Just remember to watch what you eat and get some exercise."

Yes. She told me to (a) watch what I eat after I adopted the mantra "Eat whatever looks good" and (b) get some exercise when I have an almost-two-year-old and no babysitters. Bitch.

I'll admit, this visit gave me a bit of a complex, so I did some research and then decided to write her an open letter.

Dear 90-lb Doctor Who Has Never Been Pregnant,

According to my research, when a woman is in months 4-6 of her pregnancy, she should be gaining an average of 1-1 1/2 pounds per week. Let me do the math for you, precious: that's four to six pounds every month. My utmost apologies for gaining one pound over the recommended amount, but can you also take a good look at my winter clothing that could possibly be responsible for an extra pound or two?

Furthermore, have you taken a gander at the monstrosities I call boobs? Those suckers have gone up two to three cup sizes in the past month. I'm afraid I'm not exaggerating. No strict celery diet and no pregnancy-safe exercise regiments are going to keep those puppies down. They mean business. They've got minds of their own and they're organized.

In conclusion, you may kiss my very appropriately-sized pregnant ass.

Kind regards,

PS I didn't buy any more hint of lime tostitos OR any reese's peanut butter cups because of you. Keep that in mind the next time you see me and I look homicidal.

Play

2011-01-20T13:15:00.006-07:00

Yet another one-act play...

LIGHTS up. PREGNANT WOMAN is clearly in the kitchen, but has her back to the audience.

MAN: (off-stage) What are you doing?

PREGNANT WOMAN: (guiltily) Nothing.

MAN enters kitchen to find woman with a roll of frozen cookie dough and a butter knife. She is chipping off pieces of cookie dough and shoving them into her mouth.

MAN: Is that raw cookie dough?!

PREGNANT WOMAN: It's frozen.

MAN: You're not supposed to eat that!!!

PREGNANT WOMAN: I know.

PREGNANT WOMAN chips off another piece of cookie dough, but before she can put it in her mouth, MAN grabs it and puts it back down.

PREGNANT WOMAN cont'd: It's not my fault! People on facebook were talking about fudge!

MAN: So?

PREGNANT WOMAN: We don't have any fudge! We have frozen cookie dough!!!

MAN: (grabbing another piece from her hand) Stop eating that!

LIGHTS down.

This is what happens when you're married to a doctor and he's well-versed in the dos and don'ts of pregnancy. Funny how the first time around, I was oh so careful about every little pregnancy rule and now my mantra is: if it feels good do it. Or: if it looks good eat it.

Ultrasound tomorrow. Being a doctor also makes MLC far too knowledgeable about the various bad things we could hear--and he's not even thinking multiple babies like I am. I have concerns at the back of my mind, but at the forefront is how I'm going to get through drinking all that water and having someone poke and prod my belly with cold jelly and a stick without wetting myself. You know in tv shows how women cry at the ultrasound? I'm pretty sure those aren't tears--they're tiny drops of urine trying to escape the only way they can. Seriously. Ultrasounds = uncomfortable.

Dear Fetus,

Sorry about the frozen cookie dough. Don't get salmonella. Also, sorry for sneaking the Diet Coke. There is inconclusive evidence as to what that could do to you and lots of women drink it throughout their entire pregnancies--not that I'm making excuses--but be healthy, will you? Oh, and don't tell your father about the Diet Coke. I have a feeling he'd get mad at me about that, too.

Is my behaviour indicative of what I'll be like as a mother? Not really. I'm coming across as fairly loosey-goosey and full of vice. Okay, so part of that is true. (Hint: it's not the loosey-goosey part.)

As for your older brother, he'd apologize for sitting directly on you all the time, but he has no idea that you're in there. Let's keep it that way for a bit. (He might not take the news so well.)

Love,

Mama

enjoy the silence

2011-01-17T13:37:00.002-07:00

It seems that it was only a few weeks ago I would fall into a coma nap the minute I put Lil G down for his afternoon snooze. Come to think of it, it was only a few weeks ago. Now that I'm less zombie-fied, I don't know what to do with myself while my kid sleeps during the day. Time to myself! It must not be wasted! So...I'll check my email...clean up a bit...read for a moment or two...and simply enjoy the quiet.

Other stay-at-home-parents may relate to how truly gold 'n delicious a quiet house is. I can't hear the sound of messes being made or a munchkin voice yelling, "Mahm! Mahm! Ah-nyeah?" (yes, he still refers to MLC and I by our first names on occasion.)

And yet, the best part of my day so far occurred when I hummed Lil G's sleep song to him, got a big monkey hug and heard him say, "Niyee-niyee. I whung woo." For those of you who don't speak this particular brand of toddlerese, he said, "Night-night. I love you." My little guy is so precious. He's the most imaginative, creative and loving little one I know.

As for Baby X, s/he's been rolling around after meals and has even given me a tiny kick here and there. Should my dates be right, s/he should be about the size of a mango and the tiny one has finally learned to stop making me throw up. I've been vomit-free since New Year's Eve! Now that's something to celebrate. That milestone is far more interesting than another calendar year passing.

No.

2011-01-13T14:09:00.003-07:00

I'm pretty sure this "burst of energy" that's supposed to come during the second trimester is a pretty way of saying, "pregnancy-induced insomnia." Jeepers. That's right. JEEPERS.

Lil G and his girlfriend kissed each other on the lips this morning in greeting. They both puckered. It was adorable. She tried to kiss him again as she was leaving, but he pushed her away, turned his head and emphatically said, "NO!" Boys are so fickle. Best she learns that at an early age.

If I had a dollar for every time Lil G said, "No!" to me this week, I'd be pleased because I'd be rich. Now I'm just annoyed and bracing myself for this latest toddler phase. Fortunately, he likes to act out Curious George storylines, which endear him to me amidst all of this obstinate behavior. His imagination is truly something to behold.

Something else that's precious? Our family jam sessions that happen every night after dinner. On occasion, 2/3 of us guitarists even play the same song. Mostly it's just noise, but it's happy and creative noise.

The Fetus has started squirming. Our ultrasound is in a week and a half. No, we will not be asking about the gender, but we will begin taking your name suggestions now. Don't be shy. If your suggestion is chosen as the baby's moniker, you will receive a signed copy of our first family musical recording. Happy and creative noise, people, it doesn't get much better than that.

There's always room for...

2011-01-10T14:14:00.001-07:00

Last night I dreamed that my pregnant belly was more of a mini-fridge filled with Jell-O pudding cups. I spent the whole dream trying to figure out who the father was. When I woke up, it occurred to me that the only logical person to knock me up in such a way would be Bill Cosby.

Pregnancy makes me craaaaaaazy.....

Brew-Ha-Ha

2011-01-07T20:02:00.002-07:00

Before MLC left for his ManDate this evening, he informed me that my belly is so huge I appear to be 25-weeks pregnant. I am currently 17 1/2 weeks along. Then he made me measure my uterus, so we could put our minds at ease about the whole twins-thing. Again.

I. Am. Rotund.

Be honest: how many of you men out there squirmed a little when I mentioned measuring my uterus? Calm down, squirmers, you can feel the top simply by poking my belly. It's just below my belly button, in case you were wondering. You weren't? Well, pregnancy puts me into Overcommunication Overdrive, so be prepared to hear all kinds of things you'd rather not know over the next several months.

Lil G has been the best child ever this week. He's been sleeping in past six every morning (hallelujah!), taking good naps, and being his most adorable and hilarious self. My kid is currently so awesome, I'm even thinking our decision to pop out another tyke was a good one.

Anyway, the little guy is developing quite an obsession with music. For a few days, he'd wander around our house looking for our non-existent piano. When he couldn't find it, he'd pretend to play the couch, the table and various other non-piano-like objects.

Over the past two days, however, he has become completely fixated with our guitars. (I have an acoustic and a classical, MLC has an acoustic and two electric.) Subsequently, I have played the guitar more in the past 48 hours than I have in the past six years. At this rate, I'm sure my skills will be up to their peak of being slightly below average by the end of next week. I've even got a new Annette Hit Song brewing in my head.

Happy weekending, my darlings.

non-revolutionary resolutions

2011-01-03T12:20:00.002-07:00

Every year around January 1st, my parents would arrange meetings with each kid. During these meetings we'd discuss our goals, which were broken down into several categories (ex physical, educational, spiritual, etc.) I faced the new year with vigor and the expectation that I would soon become perfect.

Perfection no longer interests me. I'm not going to go to the gym four times a week, I'm not going to read the entire canon of Charles Dickens and I'm probably not going to start tutoring underprivileged children.

No, I'm probably not going to become a better person at all this year--especially when I have pregnancy hormones followed by postpartum insanity to contend with.

Let me tell you what I am going to do:

1. I'm going to continue reading whatever book I want--guilty or not. Right now I'm halfway through a book called Russian Winter; the history is fascinating and the prose is stunning. After I finish it, I'm likely to move onto some young adult series that will not make me smarter, but will make me giggle and sigh.

2. I will wake up every day and be the best mama my situation permits. If Lil G gets me up at 5:30 am and I have a raging migraine, I'll probably be a slightly subpar mom that day. On a day like today when we wake up at 7 am, play together and attend music class, I'm going to be a kick-ass mom. All in all, I'm sure it'll average out. I love my kid, my kid loves me and, like those at AA, we'll take things one day at a time.

3. MLC and I will laugh together, probably have a few fights, go on some mini-adventures, and try to keep our heads above water once the new baby arrives. We'll be a great and loving partnership that will occasionally want to kill each other.

4. I'll keep picking away at the writing project I'm working on with a friend of mine. It may suck, it may be wonderful, but more importantly, we'll finish it. Eventually.

5. My body will morph into an even more giant pregnant mass, get all weird and misshaped and then eventually go back to some semblance of what it was before. I'm not going to freak out about it or starve myself or hire a personal trainer when I have a newborn and a toddler at home.

There you have it. My list isn't optimistic or pessimistic, it's realistic. There are things about my life that I love right now and things I wish were different. Overall I'm content with where I am and lucky to have MLC, Lil G and The Fetus. In a few years, when the baby and toddler years are behind us, MLC and I will pat ourselves on the back for making it through alive.

Six Years?

2010-12-30T11:52:00.002-07:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present a one-act play...

LIGHTS up. WOMAN is in kitchen with a short, but darling, red-haired menace. She looks as though she has let herself go in the mid-section, but is really just pregnant. MAN enters.

MAN: Happy Anniversary!

WOMAN: Oh crap.

LIGHTS dim.

Tiny Things = Holiday Cheer

2010-12-23T12:50:00.003-07:00

1. I will soon be receiving my first royalty cheque for a YA collective I helped create five years ago. The amount? $81.75. Let's all go to Taco Time to celebrate.

2. This morning at my baby doctor appointment, my uterus measured at exactly the right size. This means the chances of me having twins (or triplets or quintuplets etc) are extra extra low.

Wahoo!

Chugga chugga

2010-12-22T13:31:00.004-07:00

I'm pretty sure that everyone who encounters Pregnant Annette is afraid of her. Myself included.

I forgot to thank those who left lovely comments on my second-to-last entry. Much love to all of you. And, Kevin--I will take that compliment and run with it!

Dogs are barking, trains are whoo-whoo-ing and my little guy is managing to sleep through all of it. I did tell him that his life depended upon him taking a good long nap today. 5 am wake-ups (regardless if they're due to an overzealous train whistle) do not a nice mama (or wife) make.

I loved Christmas as a child and youth. Somewhere along my adulthood, it turned into a drama-filled bummer. Since my grinchiness is thoroughly unappreciated, I need to figure out what I loved about the holidays as a wee one and infuse it into the present. Thinking...thinking...thinking...

Lil G's cuteness and hilarity are off the charts lately. Non-stop chatter, singing, dancing, hugs and kisses are keeping me afloat these days. As are my buoyant pregnancy boobs and burgeoning belly. Try throwing me in a pool and testing them out.

paranoid android

2010-12-20T12:27:00.003-07:00

The Bad News: Mere days after my under-eye bruising cleared up, I was once again violently ill and popped a blood vessel in the same. damn. place. Guess I'm destined to look extra trashy this pregnancy.

The Good News: Arizona was exactly what I needed it to be; warm, sunny and relaxing. MLC and I even managed several kid-free dates, including taking in a Phoenix Suns game. Speaking of which, I'm the Steve Nash of water-basketball. Just ask MLC, who lost a game of HORSE to me.

I must admit to not feeling very merry this Christmas. No, I'm never a big fan of this particular holiday and would be feel fine to skipping over it all together. And yet I'd love to keep our Christmas tree up all year round. I would also happily accept a turkey dinner every night.

While we're on the topic of dinner and things that are round, I look like I'm carrying twins. Paranoia Paranoia Paranoia.

Some of Lil G's New Words: piano, money (usually said while holding change in his little fists above his head and yelling happily), V-8 (the kid likes his vegetable juice) and "round and round and round and round" (referring to what fans do).

Pfft. Chaps ain't goin' anywhere. You know it and I know it.

Kitten's out of the bag

2010-12-02T12:56:00.003-07:00

Yes, I wrote the Debbiest Downer of a post a couple of days ago and deleted it a mere four hours later. Allow me to explain...

A few nights ago, as I was wretching and feeling sorry for my sick self, I popped a blood vessel under my eye. I have since been walking around looking like the victim of a domestic dispute when, in actuality, I am the victim of a cruel cruel pregnancy. Don't get me wrong, getting knocked up was intentional (on both my and MLC's behalf) but the last couple of months have been kicking my pert little* behind.

*Okay, so my behind is neither "pert" nor "little", it's more "sassy" and "J-Lo-esque".

What? No fanfare? No individual phone calls? No, y'all, we do that on the first pregnancy, but this second one gets the blog treatment. And not because I don't love you or this fetus who is trying to make my life miserable.

Last night before bed, MLC pointed out that the popped blood vessel could be permanent. At my aghast expression, he quickly followed up that observation with, "But you could see a plastic surgeon!"

Uh-huh.

My point is, I've been living on saltines, gatorade and the will to survive, but now I have much to look forward to:

1. A two-week vacation to AZ where Lil G can frolic outside and be spoiled by his grandparents.

2. Finding out at my 18-week ultrasound in January that I am NOT having twins (come on, Universe, work with me here...)

3. Entering my second trimester (hey--isn't that a Kanye West album?) and feeling better (come on, Universe, just throw me another bone...)

4. Feeling the baby (NOT "babies") kick for the first time and all that other fun preggo jazz.

5. Starting to dream up names for the new wee one.

Hooray! Huzzah! Hip! Hip!

As many of you know, Lil G was not the most angelic of babies, but he is one cherub of a toddler. Not only is he surprisingly obedient, but his absolute most favorite thing to do in the whole world is snuggle with me on the couch under our special snuggle blanket. We read books, talk about the Christmas tree and watch The Wiggles & Mickey Mouse Clubhouse (he does a killer Pluto impersonation.)

When I get my 14-hour pregnancy migraines or become ill off the blandest of foods, I try to remember that my little guy deserves a sibling. And then I wonder why we didn't adopt.

Just in case you're wondering, I once again have a thing for Jason Bateman. He was my pregnancy crush during the last go-round and I'm suddenly finding his dimples and sensible haircut irresistible once more. Gotta love consistency, especially when it comes from a crazy pregnant gal.

make my sundae with extra mini M&M's, please

2010-11-22T12:19:00.003-07:00

MLC challenged his mad handyman skills this past weekend by installing an outlet. That may not sound like much of an accomplishment, but it requires prying off baseboards, cutting into drywall, working with wiring and having enough electrical know-how not to electrocute oneself. It was quite the undertaking and he came out victorious. Bravo, MLC. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal at this time what the outlet is for. Let's just say it has to do with a highly ridiculous indulgence.

So, yes, it was reconfirmed that MLC's fantastic and yet when I politely requested he install a make-your-own-sundae station in our house, he refused without a moment's thought. Ouch. What about me? What about MY needs?

Is there anything better than Lil G lifting his arms up to me and saying, "Nap? Nap?" I think not. It's time for some light Irish reading and a wee snooze.

Snow-whoa-whoa days

2010-11-18T14:04:00.004-07:00

Like the rest of you C-Spotters, I've been fighting the three-day snow dump. On day one, Lil G and I holed ourselves up in the house. That was a mistake that I hope never to replicate. The only thing worse than cabin fever is cabin fever in an 18-month old ginger menace.

On days two and three, we've found excuses to leave the house and it's made the weather much more bearable. In honor (even spelled the US way) of American Thanksgiving, I'd like to openly express how thankful I am for my SUV. Even the emergency vehicle we drove behind today on our way to a friend's house didn't go faster than 50 km on those treacherous roads.

Dear Storm Trooper (aka the SUV we bought in September),

If it weren't for you, Lil G and I would have been trapped inside for the last 72 hours. I'm not sure either one of us would have survived. For that, I thank you.

Love,

Driver 1

After several episodes, I have started to draw parallels between Seinfeld and The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Allow me to illuminate you...

MM Clubhouse = Jerry's apartment

Mickey = Seinfeld

Minnie = doesn't really work in this comparison. let's move on.

Goofy = Kramer (they dress alike and enter a room in the same manner--it's uncanny)

Donald Duck = George

Daisy Duck = Elaine

Pete = Newman

Hot Dog Dance = the infamous Elaine dance

Suddenly the show is not only educational, but even more entertaining!

Ladies and Gents, I went through a rough couple of weeks but I'll try not to abandon you for so long again. Are we friends/lovers/blog-stalker & stalkee again?

hiatus

2010-10-30T19:22:00.002-06:00

Just because blogspot and I have a strained relationship right now does not mean that I love you any less, fair readers.

I'm currently being swallowed up by life and lack the luxury of more than five minutes on the computer at a time. And usually those five minutes are spent trying to figure out how Lil G, who is often on my lap, managed to have everything on the screen translated into Farsi.

Five minutes up.

Rollercoaster of Love

2010-10-19T11:43:00.003-06:00

I walked in my bathroom today to find, what appeared to be, Lil G snorting cocaine. Upon closer inspection, I discovered he was merely pouring baby powder on the counter and smelling it. Clearly, that episode and a half of Intervention I saw still haunts me to this day.

MLC and I returned from a four-day baby-free vacation to Vegas. The best part of the vacation? Watching my dearest and loveliest friend, Amander, get married by Elvis. I couldn't stop crying, I was so happy for her. Her new husband loves and adores her and it's just what she deserves. Congratulations again, Amander! I love you!

Although I was anticipating a long weekend of sleeping in and relaxing, MLC and I got less sleep than we do at home. That's Vegas for you. We had a lot to fit in in a short amount of time: Holly Madison's boobies, food galore, a wee bit of shopping, Cirque du Soleil's "O", slots slots slots and blackjack. Not to mention the fabulous matrimonial festivities. If you're thinking of getting hitched, Elvis + Harley Davidson Cafe = a great way to do it.

All in all, it was an amazing trip and I'm so glad we went.

That said, Lil G, who was an angel for his grandparents while we were gone, feels the need to punish me a little for abandoning him. In two words: tantrums galore. If he doesn't have his little arms clutched around my neck and his little face pressed into mine, he's throwing a fit. Why does his love have to be so bipolar?

As mentioned via facebook, MLC and I had a couple of celeb sightings on our way home. Jesse B from The Bachelorette/Bachelor Pad fame walked past us in LAX and we sat beside the guitarist from The Red Hot Chili Peppers on our flight back to Calgary. Neat-o!

Okay, folks, it's me-time. I'm thinking a hot drink and some trashy television. Let's hope it's a marathon nap day.

Moonwalk

2010-10-06T20:23:00.004-06:00

There are some milestones that are so exciting I can't help but become impatient as I wait for Lil G to learn his next trick. Then there are the silly milestones. What do you mean a child is supposed to be able to stack four blocks by the time he/she is 18-months? (for the record, Lil G is an expert stacker of blocks, books and anything else that can be placed on top of one another)

Tonight during Family Guitar Time, I looked up to see my little guy taking steps backwards in a most hilarious and intense way. MLC followed my amused gaze and said, "Oh, good. That's an 18-months milestone." I hope learning the Dr. Knickerbocker #9 dance is also a milestone because Lil G is all over that, too.

To my readers of the LGBT Community: I decided long ago to choose love over religion. I know many people feel the same way and your supporters keep growing in number and passion. To call homosexuality "unnatural" and to preach that it can and should be "overcome" is irresponsible. It's unenlightened. And the timing? Insensitive and disgusting. And let's stop attempting the whole hetero-homo marriage thing because I've seen nothing but heartbreak come from those sham unions.

Much love to all.

MLC

2010-10-01T12:28:00.003-06:00

On this day, thirty years ago, three baby boys were born in the Foothills Hospital here in the C-spot. All three were named Michael. All three went to my elementary school. I married one of them.

Although you may not have witnessed it, you know that MLC is the creator and king of the Double-Time Dance. Here are a few other things you may not know about him.

- He's an incredibly hard worker. Yes, we know he worked his cute caboose off to get through medical school and residency, but it goes further than that. When I asked him what he wanted to do on his birthday, he replied, "Get up and paint the fence." Ladies and gentlemen, he did just that. Now he's off to work (on his day off) to make sure all his patients are well taken care of.

- He gives great hugs and can tell, just by looking at you, that you need one. Okay, maybe he's unlikely to hug YOU, but he hugs me all the time. You should be so lucky.

- He's a very involved and hilarious father. He wrote a song for Lil G when the little guy was just an infant and it would illicit huge smiles and giggles. Now at 17-months of age, one of Lil G's favourite things to do is yell, "Tah, tah!" and then run to the guitar room. As soon as MLC picks up a guitar, Lil G grins and busts a move. It's awesome.

- MLC may love his nice car and his nice jeans, but he's actually one of the most frugal people I know. He's almost as bad as me. One might use the word, "cheap."

- He's also incredibly cautious and takes his time with decisions. And yet I got him to propose to me less than two months after kissing me for the first time.

There you have it. My dashing tall-drink-of-water is 30. Happy birthday, Love!

Lights, Camera, Action! Wi-ggles!

2010-09-23T14:18:00.006-06:00

Illness befell our home a few days ago and, as such, I am currently unable to discuss anything beyond the following topics:

1. Why I'd rather spend the night taking care of a newborn rather than a sick toddler.

2. The Wiggles.

3. Whether or not saying, "Mommy isn't a good mommy when she doesn't get any sleep" to a child is traumatizing.

4. How "Lie down and close your eyes" can be construed to mean "Climb on my head and say, 'Ma ma ma ma ma' repeatedly while putting me in a headlock."

I hope the sudden burst of sunshine is smiling down on all of your lives. Lil G is sleeping for the first time in 2 days making my life a brighter place both literally and figuratively.

Lil - My little guy loves looking at pictures of River. He points to the computer and squeals, "Bee-bee! Bee-bee!" They're destined to be friends. You know, when they meet in the theatre department of some university.

jinxed

2010-09-19T18:12:00.002-06:00

Let me tell you what happens when you start blabbing about how much you're enjoying your toddler...

Before 8 am this morning, Lil G had already taken half of my clothes off the hanger and left them on the floor of my closet. After I hung everything back up, I walked into my bathroom to find him with an open bottle of red nail polish. It was all. over. his. face.

It isn't easy getting nail polish off the sensitive skin of a sensitive little guy. Lesson learned.

xoxo

Donk!

2010-09-15T14:18:00.002-06:00

Spending my days with a toddler may be lonely at times (his side of the conversation isn't much more advanced than, "Truck! Truck!"--when he looks at the construction out our window, "Donk!"--when he bumps his head, and "Pee!"--when he opens the bathroom door on me), but they are also full of entertaining examples of the bare bones of human nature.

Every day Lil G learns a new word or sound. Every day he gets mad at me over something ridiculous and gives me, what MLC and I have dubbed, The Stinkface. Every day he wraps his little arms tightly around my neck and tries to give me inappropriately long kisses.

Maybe I'm on a motherhood high because I've consumed twice as much caffeine as I normally do in a day, or maybe I'm simply riding the wave of his extended nap. Regardless, today I am fulfilled. Today I'm grateful Lil G is a toddler and no longer a colicky baby. Today the unbearable months of PPD are long behind me. Today I'm excited about the writing project I'm working on with a motivated co-author. Today I'm happy to be involved with The Shkspr Co and am proud to be an important cog keeping them organized. Today I look forward to MLC's arrival, a chaotic dinner with the little guy, followed by a relaxing and quiet evening of adult conversation.

The tiny moments of my day are making up a pretty sweet life.

Treacle

2010-09-10T00:38:00.004-06:00

For the most part, I would like to skip over Christmases, New Years Eves and my birthdays. The build up makes me cringe and I crave simplicity. Simplicity is what I got this year on the anniversary of the day of my birth and it was perfectly lovely.

Contributions:

1. Well wishes from so many people I love.

2. A happy boy.

3. A thoughtful and manly partner.

4. Success in my creative endeavor to make my favourite English dessert: Treacle Pudding with Custard. Oooooh yeaaaaaaah....just like the pubs make it...

5. Insomnia.

No, wait--scratch #5--that's a not-so-great topper to my birthday, but it happens so rarely I won't get worked up about it. And I'll try to resist the temptation to go into the kitchen and eat that last piece of TP w/ C.

This afternoon I was thinking about how Lil G had been such a good boy all day and then I really started thinking about our day and realized I had already fished two toys out of the toilet and one toy from the vent, lost him in the garage and found a torn family photograph. On the upside, there weren't any major meltdowns. You take what you can get when you have a toddler who goes by the name Destructor the Destroyer.

Did I mention Lil G and I have been on a boat for the past week and a half? Apart from some rough seas and spending three hours saving a kayaker's life, the vacation was a rousing success. It took the wee one a day to shake his sea legs and be able to walk on solid ground again, but we're back to being the landlubbers. Land ho!

Can I control my love for control?

2010-08-26T12:06:00.009-06:00

Thank you, Kevin, for providing me with a new mantra: Know that control is a myth. Accept that and you'll live a happy life.

This weekend Lil G and I set sail. The goal is to be settled in by the time MLC joins us the following week. I know the first night, as I'm attempting to keep a 16-month old in a bed and on a schedule I will be thinking, "This was a terrible idea, this was a terrible idea..." but I'm holding on to the theory that by day two or three we will be having a glorious time. Yes, Summerwind, you are my home on the water and I'm sure Lil G will love you just as much as I do.

My previous writing project self-destructed, much to my discombobulation and sadness, but I finally have a new one on the horizon. Oh yes, and I have an enthusiastic, not to mention trained, writing partner to boot! Here's to a new creative outlet *clink of water glass*

Did I mention that my son is teaching himself ballet? Perhaps it was the influence of having Centre Stage on in the background, perhaps it's ingrained in his soul. Either way, I'm thoroughly amused. What a crack-up that kid is. Keep it up, Junior, and you might just get a sibling.