Despite what I said in this post, it is late at night on a Monday. And while BABY sleeps, I am putting together lootbags.... and paper flowers, and Martha Pom Poms, and centerpieces. I have more scrap paper and glue sticks and tissue paper and plastic coated wire and half inch wooden dowels on my kitchen table than I ever thought possible. If you would have told me that I would be doing all this for my daughter's first birthday, I would have shaken my head and said that was crazy talk.
But I'm sucker, with a need to please. The guilt of going back to work - next week! - just days before BABY turns one is conjuring up crafting skills that I didn't know existed.
More on my anxiety-ridden month - with second chances for her Dad, putting BABY in daycare, starting work and planning a first birthday - coming up soon.
And now, I must finish my crafts...
~ humps
April 12, 2010
April 1, 2010
Warm Front
When the weather in Toronto warms up a bit, there is a palpable excitement.
We are so used to hibernating during the months of Winter. Used to layering long johns and fleece and knit scarves and toques until we are covered from toe to head. Used to running to warm up the car, then running back to the house, then running back to a still cold car. Used to leaving for work when it's dark outside and coming back home when it's dark. When we see neighbors we commiserate about the shitty weather.
Then comes a warm front from the west. It seems to coincide with the longer days in Spring. We receive a combination of higher temperatures, and wait a minute, is that, sunshine!
People wake up out of the fog that is winter and step into the light. We flock to the light like moths. We are all hungry for it. We want the air to drift into our open car windows, to blow into our open jackets. Kids run outside with basketballs under their arms or sandboxes on their minds. Office workers take their lunches to park benches or cinder block planters. We congregate to the nearest patio, even if we have to still huddle together in this small tease of good weather. Mothers with strollers take long, leisurely walks.
BABY learned to crawl and walk over the winter. She perfected her abilities on the living room rug, the worn down pile of indoor playground carpet, on clinical tile and on hardwood.
Yesterday, after taking our own leisurely walk around the block, with our jackets open, I took her out of her stroller. We sat on the grass. The grass that was still cold and brown from last week's temperatures. She walked and stumbled. She reached for the grass and took baby sized handfuls out of the earth. She held it out to me. "Grass!" I said. "That is grass!" She nodded in understanding. She looked at me and wobbled in the other direction.
This is going to be a great summer.
~ humps
We are so used to hibernating during the months of Winter. Used to layering long johns and fleece and knit scarves and toques until we are covered from toe to head. Used to running to warm up the car, then running back to the house, then running back to a still cold car. Used to leaving for work when it's dark outside and coming back home when it's dark. When we see neighbors we commiserate about the shitty weather.
Then comes a warm front from the west. It seems to coincide with the longer days in Spring. We receive a combination of higher temperatures, and wait a minute, is that, sunshine!
People wake up out of the fog that is winter and step into the light. We flock to the light like moths. We are all hungry for it. We want the air to drift into our open car windows, to blow into our open jackets. Kids run outside with basketballs under their arms or sandboxes on their minds. Office workers take their lunches to park benches or cinder block planters. We congregate to the nearest patio, even if we have to still huddle together in this small tease of good weather. Mothers with strollers take long, leisurely walks.
BABY learned to crawl and walk over the winter. She perfected her abilities on the living room rug, the worn down pile of indoor playground carpet, on clinical tile and on hardwood.
Yesterday, after taking our own leisurely walk around the block, with our jackets open, I took her out of her stroller. We sat on the grass. The grass that was still cold and brown from last week's temperatures. She walked and stumbled. She reached for the grass and took baby sized handfuls out of the earth. She held it out to me. "Grass!" I said. "That is grass!" She nodded in understanding. She looked at me and wobbled in the other direction.
This is going to be a great summer.
~ humps
March 23, 2010
A Photo Retrospective
Tomorrow my little baby will be 11 months old. I can’t believe that time has flown so fast. Very soon she will be a 1 year. Very soon she won’t be my little baby. And, if you have read a few of my posts you will know that I am very sentimental about my little muffin, monkey, pumpkin, sugar face growing so quickly.
Words can’t do it justice.
So instead, here are some never blogged before pictures of the little one over the last 11 months. It's rare for me to post pictures so this is a special treat. And tell me, wouldn't you want her to stay little like I do?!
Words can’t do it justice.
So instead, here are some never blogged before pictures of the little one over the last 11 months. It's rare for me to post pictures so this is a special treat. And tell me, wouldn't you want her to stay little like I do?!
~ humps
March 9, 2010
I Cheered
I wasn't paying attention. My head was down washing dishes while Baby played with her toys in the living room. I looked up periodically to make sure that she was ok. That she wasn't climbing furniture, or eating books, or getting into trouble. That she was safe.
When I rounded the corner she was standing up, holding onto the couch and facing me. She's been cruising for months so it wasn't too unusual. Finding interesting ways to make it across the room, holding on to various edges at varying heights. But this time she let go. And took two confident and exaggerated steps to the side. Without holding on.
I froze. "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing? Is she? Is she walking?!!"
It took some time for the wires that connect my eyes with my brain to signal that I was in fact watching a fairly significant milestone. I was watching her take her very first steps at 10 months. It took even more time for my brain to tell the rest of my body exactly what I needed to do about it. Should I get the camera?
And like that my knees gave out. I feel to the floor and did what any excited-first-time-mother watching-her-little-baby-take-a-first-step would do. I cheered. I hollered. I waved my hands. I'm not sure if I was actually saying anything in particular, like "Go! Go! Go!" or if it was random jibberish. But whatever it was scared the crap out of her. She fell down on her butt. She looked at me.
In hindsight, the cheering maybe wasn't the best way to handle the situation. I can put myself in her shoes and appreciate that learning how to walk is hard enough without someone screaming in your face. But I was so excited.
The next day, I wasn't sure if I really saw her first steps or if I imagined it. Then she did it again. I didn't say anything. The day after that she took more steps. She can now make it from the couch to the TV. She is demonstrating her walk abilities a lot. She is mastering this walking thing.
And in order to help her, I don't say anything. I don't fall to my knees. And I only cheer a tiny, tiny bit.
~ humps
When I rounded the corner she was standing up, holding onto the couch and facing me. She's been cruising for months so it wasn't too unusual. Finding interesting ways to make it across the room, holding on to various edges at varying heights. But this time she let go. And took two confident and exaggerated steps to the side. Without holding on.
I froze. "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing? Is she? Is she walking?!!"
It took some time for the wires that connect my eyes with my brain to signal that I was in fact watching a fairly significant milestone. I was watching her take her very first steps at 10 months. It took even more time for my brain to tell the rest of my body exactly what I needed to do about it. Should I get the camera?
And like that my knees gave out. I feel to the floor and did what any excited-first-time-mother watching-her-little-baby-take-a-first-step would do. I cheered. I hollered. I waved my hands. I'm not sure if I was actually saying anything in particular, like "Go! Go! Go!" or if it was random jibberish. But whatever it was scared the crap out of her. She fell down on her butt. She looked at me.
In hindsight, the cheering maybe wasn't the best way to handle the situation. I can put myself in her shoes and appreciate that learning how to walk is hard enough without someone screaming in your face. But I was so excited.
The next day, I wasn't sure if I really saw her first steps or if I imagined it. Then she did it again. I didn't say anything. The day after that she took more steps. She can now make it from the couch to the TV. She is demonstrating her walk abilities a lot. She is mastering this walking thing.
And in order to help her, I don't say anything. I don't fall to my knees. And I only cheer a tiny, tiny bit.
~ humps
March 4, 2010
Going, Going, Grey
It was a busy day. Waking up late after a night of crying baby. Rushing through breakfast, and that weird dance of getting self and child ready. Showers and toothpaste and onesies and baby lotion. Did I put on deodorant? We were already behind schedule. I was trying to calculate if I had enough gas to make it to the destination, or if I should stop. How much time would that add on? Did I have cash? Am I going to find parking? Snacks! I should make sure to pack some snack in the diaper bag. And more diapers. And refill the wipes container. Don't forget an extra change of clothes. I bundled BABY up in her snowsuit, then her stroller. She looked up at me, barely able to move, with her pink and brown winter hat falling over her eyes. Why did I bundle her up so much? We were only going to the elevator and underground parking garage. Naah, leave her. I should bring the stroller with me.
We got home hours later, after many miles, spilled pear slices, circles around the block for parking, and gas station fumes. I put off meeting a friend for dinner to buy some time for an afternoon nap - BABY not me - and a snack - me not BABY.
I went into the washroom convinced that I should just put on some lipgloss - because surely shiny lips will distract from my exhaustion. As I bent over the sink, I saw it. The light danced over it and like a mirror reflecting rays of sun it caught my eye. As plain as day. A grey hair.
What? Huh? Is that a...
It was a grey hair staring at me on the other end of the mirror. I wiped the top of my head at first, because I really didn't want to overreact about some fluff. Then I leaned into the mirror and isolated the curly strand that sat on top of my head. It was attached alright. It was just like the other hairs that lay around it. But this one was white. Very white. My first grey hair.
My mind immediately re-traced my steps today. Recognizing that (1) I was walking around with a grey hair all day today. When did this happen exactly? And (2) my daughter is giving me grey hairs.
My not one to blame others, but really, how else could this have happened. Clearly my mom lifestyle is sending a message to my body that says, "Pack it in! She's a mom. Game over!". I'm too freaking young to have grey hairs.
After a few emergency phone calls - gotta reach out to the life line on things like this - I pulled the grey hair out by the root. And so it begins....
~ humps
We got home hours later, after many miles, spilled pear slices, circles around the block for parking, and gas station fumes. I put off meeting a friend for dinner to buy some time for an afternoon nap - BABY not me - and a snack - me not BABY.
I went into the washroom convinced that I should just put on some lipgloss - because surely shiny lips will distract from my exhaustion. As I bent over the sink, I saw it. The light danced over it and like a mirror reflecting rays of sun it caught my eye. As plain as day. A grey hair.
What? Huh? Is that a...
It was a grey hair staring at me on the other end of the mirror. I wiped the top of my head at first, because I really didn't want to overreact about some fluff. Then I leaned into the mirror and isolated the curly strand that sat on top of my head. It was attached alright. It was just like the other hairs that lay around it. But this one was white. Very white. My first grey hair.
My mind immediately re-traced my steps today. Recognizing that (1) I was walking around with a grey hair all day today. When did this happen exactly? And (2) my daughter is giving me grey hairs.
My not one to blame others, but really, how else could this have happened. Clearly my mom lifestyle is sending a message to my body that says, "Pack it in! She's a mom. Game over!". I'm too freaking young to have grey hairs.
After a few emergency phone calls - gotta reach out to the life line on things like this - I pulled the grey hair out by the root. And so it begins....
~ humps
February 28, 2010
(Single) Mother
I could hardly form the words, when I first wrote about being a single mom on this blog. My fingers didn't want to type them. My mind didn't want to go there. I didn't want to say the words out loud. I felt defeated. I felt outed. I felt like a failure. I felt like a bad mother.
When I finally admitted to myself that I wasn't going to keep trying to make my relationship work, it took a while to fully accept what that meant to the other areas of my life… and yes how I was going to parent my daughter was one of them. Still getting used my new role as a “mother”, I wasn’t ready to take on the 100 pound weight of the “single mother” label. As weird as that may seem, I felt that “single mother” had so many connotations that I wasn’t ready to accept.
When I finally admitted to myself that I wasn't going to keep trying to make my relationship work, it took a while to fully accept what that meant to the other areas of my life… and yes how I was going to parent my daughter was one of them. Still getting used my new role as a “mother”, I wasn’t ready to take on the 100 pound weight of the “single mother” label. As weird as that may seem, I felt that “single mother” had so many connotations that I wasn’t ready to accept.
Last weekend, I went out for dinner and drinks with a group of eight women. All of us were virtually strangers. Few had met at previous events, some had exchanged emails and phone calls prior to that night. But none of us knew much more of one another than the few details that we posted on the Meetup.com group that we are part of. We are all single mothers.
As soon as I sat down at the table, my nervousness about meeting a group of new women disappeared. The conversation was easy. The laughter contagious. The sense of community palpable.
To the right of me was a mother still healing from the breakup of her marriage, just 6 months ago. Across the table was a mother of four – ages 8,7,6,5!! – who proclaimed that she would rather be single and happy, than married and miserable. Beside her, a mother who divorced her husband while pregnant with their first child. Sneaking in last, a mother of seven-month old twins, who at nearly 50 decided not to give up her dream of being a mother merely because she was single.
It made me realize that the tapestry of single motherhood, really is that, a tapestry. Made up of so many incredible women who are solo parenting, whether by choice or not, whether they were ready, or not. All of us incredible, powerful, and wonderful mothers.
It was just what I needed to experience. I feel like I am coming into my own as a new person, a new mother and a single mother. And it feels ok.
~ humps
February 15, 2010
Point of No Return
I call it the Point of No Return. The exact moment when a mother realizes that her boobs will never be the same again. And that moment for me was Friday, February 12th at 11:55 am.
After nursing BABY on Friday, I held her up. When I looked down to adjust my shirt, put the boob back to it's secure holding place, I noticed that there just wasn't as much there as before. Not the typically kind of post-nursing deflation. No. It was something else. I knew then and there - holding my daughter to one side and looking down at the boob at the other - that it was over.
There will be no more humps in "Humps and Baby Bumps". My precious lady lumps are no more. It was a sad, sad day.
With BABY now nine months old, I should have expected so much. I've been benefiting from extra delicious cleavage as a result of breastfeeding and hormones. Those kind of gifts, when not appreciated, don't last. The closest thing I received to someone noticing my boobs, was showing a slight rash to my single young doctor. And that just sucks.
I don't blame breastfeeding. In fact, I recently heard that it's not breastfeeding that causes "limp lumps" but hormones related to pregnancy. So whether you nurse or not, having a baby is enough to "impact your rack".
Even still, I would nurse all over again. It's better BABY uses them, because I'm certainly not.
~ humps
After nursing BABY on Friday, I held her up. When I looked down to adjust my shirt, put the boob back to it's secure holding place, I noticed that there just wasn't as much there as before. Not the typically kind of post-nursing deflation. No. It was something else. I knew then and there - holding my daughter to one side and looking down at the boob at the other - that it was over.
There will be no more humps in "Humps and Baby Bumps". My precious lady lumps are no more. It was a sad, sad day.
With BABY now nine months old, I should have expected so much. I've been benefiting from extra delicious cleavage as a result of breastfeeding and hormones. Those kind of gifts, when not appreciated, don't last. The closest thing I received to someone noticing my boobs, was showing a slight rash to my single young doctor. And that just sucks.
I don't blame breastfeeding. In fact, I recently heard that it's not breastfeeding that causes "limp lumps" but hormones related to pregnancy. So whether you nurse or not, having a baby is enough to "impact your rack".
Even still, I would nurse all over again. It's better BABY uses them, because I'm certainly not.
~ humps
February 9, 2010
Valentine's Day
I'm a romantic. I love love. Although I don't have a romantic love in my life right now, I have a different, deep, I didn't know it was coming and would feel this way type of love. For my little baby girl. That's more than I need.
A couple of years ago, I stumbled across a poet named Shihan. I fell in love with these two videos of his pieces, performed on Def Poetry Jam. Years have passed. I have grown. I found these videos again. It means more now that it ever has. I wanted to share.
Enjoy:
A couple of years ago, I stumbled across a poet named Shihan. I fell in love with these two videos of his pieces, performed on Def Poetry Jam. Years have passed. I have grown. I found these videos again. It means more now that it ever has. I wanted to share.
Enjoy:
January 28, 2010
Bugs Bunny
Somewhere between Christmas and now I lost the gummy smile of my little girl. I became used to looking at her one way. Eight months of her yawns, laughs, babbles, kisses, smiles that were soft and wet. Toothless. Her round plump lips. Her pink mouth.
But like all babies, her teeth were conspiring below the surface. They were building courage. They were getting ready.
She was showing all of the signs of a baby preparing for her first tooth - putting everything in her mouth, drooling. I waited for the more unpleasant signs of teething, like the crying, fever, redness on the checks. I monitored the pink tissue of her lower gums for indication that it might be coming. For swelling. I waited. I took pictures of her gummy smile, knowing that those days were limited.
Almost overnight, she sprouted her first tooth.
She woke up, smiled like she usually does, and there it was. Right in front of me. Instead of coming in on the bottom like I expected it would, like the parenting books said, it came in on top. The second, beside it to the right, was peaking out also. Her two front teeth. She looked like Bugs Bunny.
Is it silly to dedicate a post to a first tooth? Maybe. But for some reason, when she smiles at me, it's almost like a different baby. She doesn't look like a baby. She's growing up.
I know that somewhere between now and next Christmas we will go through a number of small milestones. Too small to blog about, or to write in her baby book. But all will add up to the incredible transformation of a little baby, to a little girl.
It's all conspiring below the surface.
But like all babies, her teeth were conspiring below the surface. They were building courage. They were getting ready.
She was showing all of the signs of a baby preparing for her first tooth - putting everything in her mouth, drooling. I waited for the more unpleasant signs of teething, like the crying, fever, redness on the checks. I monitored the pink tissue of her lower gums for indication that it might be coming. For swelling. I waited. I took pictures of her gummy smile, knowing that those days were limited.
Almost overnight, she sprouted her first tooth.
She woke up, smiled like she usually does, and there it was. Right in front of me. Instead of coming in on the bottom like I expected it would, like the parenting books said, it came in on top. The second, beside it to the right, was peaking out also. Her two front teeth. She looked like Bugs Bunny.
Is it silly to dedicate a post to a first tooth? Maybe. But for some reason, when she smiles at me, it's almost like a different baby. She doesn't look like a baby. She's growing up.
I know that somewhere between now and next Christmas we will go through a number of small milestones. Too small to blog about, or to write in her baby book. But all will add up to the incredible transformation of a little baby, to a little girl.
It's all conspiring below the surface.
January 18, 2010
Forever Shaken
Last week, on Tuesday, January 12th, a 7.0 earthquake hit Port-Au-Prince, Haiti.
It was said to be the most powerful earthquake to hit the country in more than 200 years. As devastating as that natural disaster was, and would be to any country, the destruction in Haiti was exasperated by the conditions. Most of Haiti's people are desperately poor, and after years of political instability, the country has no basic construction standards.
The earthquake caused a crumbled ruin of many homes from all ends of the economic spectrum. According to reports, Parliament has collapsed. The tax office has collapsed. Schools have collapsed. Hospitals have collapsed. The National Palace is a ruin, and the UN headquarters was damaged. Most of Port au Prince's two million, an estimated 1.5 million, were made homeless by last week's natural disaster. Thousands are dead.
I don't need to rehash news reports that you have likely heard a lot about. Over the past week, I have read, watched, listened to some of the same reports that you have. I have been touched by the stories of loss, the stories of fear, the stories of men, women and children, like many of you have. I have hurt for the people that are waiting for word from their loved ones, like you have. My stomach has ached for all of those who are affected by the situation, like yours have. My mind is full of "what ifs", "that could be someone close to me", "how could this happen", like surely yours is.
It's things like this that make you realize how special, how sacred, how blessful, how bountiful your life is. My life is. As a mother, I feel changed. As a mother, I am so impacted by the hurt of children. As a mother, I feel a different kind of pain than I ever have before - during any other natural disaster. I look at the innocence of my daughter, and the way she looks up at me at the ripe age of 8 months, and hurts me inside to think about losing her. I would never be strong enough to live through that. Thinking about it tears me apart.
My prayers are with everyone impacted by the earthquake in Haiti. Although I am able to turn off the news reports, shut down the computer and climb into my bed, my heart and mind is thousands of miles away. And I hold my baby girl a little bit tighter because of this. I won't forget.
~ humps
*Note: News photos from http://ca.news.yahoo.com photo slide show. All three are Reuters.
January 14, 2010
S is for Spelling
Over the last couple of weeks I have been on a mission. I have been consumed in the pursuit of finding daycare for BABY. I will be going back to work in April. While I did do some initial investigation, entered myself on a few daycare waiting lists over the summer, I now have to put this search into high gear. If I don't get her in somewhere over the next couple of months I'm screwed.
I'm sure you will hear a little bit more about the daycare issue on this blog. Like how freaking expensive it is. How I have no idea how I'm going to be able to afford it. (These places are coming in at around $300 a week for infants. Like $1200 a month!! Please don't get me started on this or I will have a breakdown.) I will probably rant for months about how I will be entrusting my precious daughter in the hands of people I don't even know. That she will spend a good 9-10 hours a day there, and see them more than she sees me. How I will likely have a breakdown during the first day, week, month. Oh my gosh, I'm gonna throw up right now. I'm feeling anxiety just thinking about this.
Ok, let me get it together.
The real reason I wanted to write this post was to ask, what's up with daycare? I am looking at homecare and daycare. I am going on tours, open houses, meeting daycare administrators, speaking with homecare agencies. Seeing advantages and disadvantages of many different options.
Not sure if I am being an overly discriminating parent, but who the hell decided that misspelling a word in the name of your daycare was cute. Or good marketing. You're suppose to teaching my child how to read and write. And meanwhile you have a sign outside of your building that reads "Skool". WTF.
So I just wanted to get that off my chest. If you operate a daycare facility with "Kampus", "Skool", "Kare", "Kollege", "Kidz", "N" instead of And, than you may want to think of rebranding. Because it just isn't Kute.
~ humps
I'm sure you will hear a little bit more about the daycare issue on this blog. Like how freaking expensive it is. How I have no idea how I'm going to be able to afford it. (These places are coming in at around $300 a week for infants. Like $1200 a month!! Please don't get me started on this or I will have a breakdown.) I will probably rant for months about how I will be entrusting my precious daughter in the hands of people I don't even know. That she will spend a good 9-10 hours a day there, and see them more than she sees me. How I will likely have a breakdown during the first day, week, month. Oh my gosh, I'm gonna throw up right now. I'm feeling anxiety just thinking about this.
Ok, let me get it together.
The real reason I wanted to write this post was to ask, what's up with daycare? I am looking at homecare and daycare. I am going on tours, open houses, meeting daycare administrators, speaking with homecare agencies. Seeing advantages and disadvantages of many different options.
Not sure if I am being an overly discriminating parent, but who the hell decided that misspelling a word in the name of your daycare was cute. Or good marketing. You're suppose to teaching my child how to read and write. And meanwhile you have a sign outside of your building that reads "Skool". WTF.
So I just wanted to get that off my chest. If you operate a daycare facility with "Kampus", "Skool", "Kare", "Kollege", "Kidz", "N" instead of And, than you may want to think of rebranding. Because it just isn't Kute.
~ humps
January 4, 2010
Get Yo Shit Togetha
It's the Monday after New Years. We have just walked into a new decade. It is now 2010! I am dusting off my laptop and shaking off my carpal tunnel to officially deemed this Get-Yo-Shit-Togetha Week. Because after the holidays, surely I am not the only one who needs to get my shit together.
It's an informal poll but I can say with some certainty that 99% of the people that I know have veered off of their regular routine over the holiday season. The time spent has varied - from using up the vacation days, taking on some overtime hours, or going into work to enjoy late starts and long lunches. Or maybe you spent some time curling up with your 8 month old baby girl, watching Hugh Grant movies on cable and grazing on holiday goodies. That's cool too, I suppose.
I even let the baby run wild over the last couple of weeks. Her bedtime has gone to crap. I have to get her back on the routine.
So with this being Get-Yo-Shit-Togetha Week, I will be buckling down. I will be getting babies on routines, getting my ass of the couch, getting some housework done around here, getting my life organized and getting it done. I'm not one for New Years Resolutions but I'm a fan of breaking out the shit broom and shit bucket to pile it all up. I'm a fan of getting shit together.
I gots to go. This shit is calling my name.
~ humps
It's an informal poll but I can say with some certainty that 99% of the people that I know have veered off of their regular routine over the holiday season. The time spent has varied - from using up the vacation days, taking on some overtime hours, or going into work to enjoy late starts and long lunches. Or maybe you spent some time curling up with your 8 month old baby girl, watching Hugh Grant movies on cable and grazing on holiday goodies. That's cool too, I suppose.
I even let the baby run wild over the last couple of weeks. Her bedtime has gone to crap. I have to get her back on the routine.
So with this being Get-Yo-Shit-Togetha Week, I will be buckling down. I will be getting babies on routines, getting my ass of the couch, getting some housework done around here, getting my life organized and getting it done. I'm not one for New Years Resolutions but I'm a fan of breaking out the shit broom and shit bucket to pile it all up. I'm a fan of getting shit together.
I gots to go. This shit is calling my name.
~ humps
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