Gone Coastal

I know nuh-sinkh!

2010-08-03T17:48:00.008-07:00

I begin this post while sitting in the Ambulatory Care Building of BC Children's hospital. Apparently, I'm three hours early for my appointment. It's quite possible that it's my error - my mind's not exactly razor sharp these days. I had an appointment for 1:30 with Rheumatology, and I opened some mail a few days back that mentioned an appointmentment at 10:30 with our doc at Biochemical Diseases, but maybe that was the appointment in October. I know the plan was to coordinate visits. Whatever the case, I'm here with Trin, with three extra hours to kill. Thank goodness for the great silly installations they have in the clinic waiting areas, with wheels to turn chains, pulling bouncy balls up elevators to tracks, buckets and ladders, spinning sunflowers and sending cows looping round a moon with his smile on backwards.
Oh, yeah. And a TV. Sigh.
All of that helps pass the time and keeps Trin busy. But I'm still a parent, back again at Children's, hoping we'll finally get some answers. When our appointment comes, I expect we'll go through a very familiar routine. Weight height and blood pressure, then back to the waiting area. Then rewind/replay the clinical history for the Rheumatology Fellow. Watch Trin walking, do basic strength tests. Then wait for the Fellow to discuss with the attending Rheumatologist and possibly rinse and repeat. Then possibly do it all over again for the Biochem folks.
In the last few months again, there've been a few things more evident than before. Whatever it is, it's still subtle, still changing, and not going anywhere.

At the end of the appointment, I know nothing new, medically speaking. The new symptoms don't fit the patterns that would indicate a specific condition, and there are no further tests at this point beyond some rather invasive options that we don't wan to proceed with without stronger evidence that we'll actually find something.
Discouraging. But one thing I know. With all the varied struggles big and small, it's tough sometimes to find that sparkle in Trin. But when everything comes together and her imagination is sparked, she blossoms bright, like a flower in the desert.
In the Nevada deserts around Vegas, I was struck by the beauty of the desert - a place we tend to associate with insufficiency. I was especially struck with the contrasts of the desert surrounds with the intensity and boldness of the blooms there.

Three weeks ago today, I sat somewhat awkwardly for an hour and a bit and let an artist of a different medium capture that essence in a tattoo, my first, on my back shoulder. A desert cactus in bloom. It was a way of declaring indelibly that I love my daughter dearly, that she is wonderfully made, and that I want to be there for her on the road ahead, wherever it leads.

Can I paint you a picture?

2010-05-11T20:47:00.003-07:00

Vegas sits in the middle of a low flat valley. To the west, and a little bit north, is Mount Charleston, and a long low finger of a ridge stretches south.
It's been windy since I've been here, and I might have mentioned to some of you that it's a bit dry. In fact there's been a bit of a drought, and even the famous fountains are flowing rather with much less flash. In the early evening, there were dark clouds breaking up the blue sky. Someone around here's gonna get some rain, I thought, and that's probably a good thing. I was driving down to the outlet center to find a place to eat.
When I came out after supper, the sun was just setting, and most of the sky had cleared again. As I pulled out of the lot and turned west to cross over the freeway, I saw what remained of the earlier menace.
Ahead, running the length of that mountain ridge, was a line of rain clouds, still emptying. A thick dark line divided the darkening blue sky. Below it, the virga hung and just brushed the top of the ridge's silhouette, backlit by the last of the sun's rays.
I didn't have a camera, and in any case I was driving. For a moment I wished I could snap that shot, capture it, but I wouldn't have done it justice in a frame.

Flashback

2010-05-09T21:27:00.002-07:00

By the time I post this, I'll be in Vegas, but at the moment, I'm at YVR, waiting to board. About an hour ago, I said goodbye to my daughter and planted a kiss on the sleeping head of my son in the back seat of my car, having been driven to the airport by my Mom. It's Mother's day and I'm heading away from my kids for two weeks for training.
Most of what followed the goodbyes was pretty standard airport fare. A small lump in the throat and a butterfly or two. Stand in a line, Show some papers. The airline rep gave me the run down of 'the mill' ahead as I said it had been awhile since I'd been to this end of the airport.
Haul the bags down a hall. Show some papers. Answer some questions. Check the big bag. Stand in another line. Show the same papers again. Pull stuff out. Take things off. Put stuff away. Put things on. Stand in another line. Have the fast moving line I'm in moved to another queue and s.l.o.w. .r.i.g.h.t. .d.o.w.n. Exchange pleasantries, hand over a paper and walk through another door to the other side.
Having plenty of time before boarding, I wandered slowly toward my gate, checking out my options for overpriced food to bring aboard for later. My gate was waaay down at the end, and as I rounded the last bend it hit me exactly how long awhile it had been. About two and a half years since I was flying out of this airport and this very same gate. Trinity was just about 15 months when I was last here, and had been quite resistant to walking on two feet. But right here - or right over there, at that little indoor playset - as I watched with my 4 months worth of Eli belly and all the paraphernalia required for a mom taking her toddler on vacation - Trinity decided that walking was actually worth the effort. She proceeded to walk all over Kauai.

I'm now watching a couple of brothers scrambling about on that same playset. The younger is probably under a year, not yet walking, but climbing up the same slightly slippery steps, making his mother visibly nervous. The older is maybe three, somewhere between Trin and Eli now, running circles around, and occasionally over, the younger.

A little Mama nostalgia to mark Mother's Day.

And who knows, you might just get another post or two out of me while I'm here, wondering how to occupy myself without eager little hands pulling me this way and that. I miss 'em already, but checking in with my mom a little while ago, there sleeping soundly already. Perhaps I'll catch up with them in dreams.

Happy Mother's Day, all of you.

Tough questions

2009-09-20T17:06:00.004-07:00

This week we had one of those surreal experiences that you see on prime time drama shows. Swat teams in armoured cars, road blocks, and snipers on roofs.
Except it wasn't on TV. It was our block that was closed off with cop cars, the roof of the shed that backs on to our yard that served as a platform for the man in black with the big gun. And it was our next door neighbour - whom we've alternately seen arrange hedges and flowers in his garden, go on random tirades against neighbours and family, and raise a baby crow as a pet - who eventually gave himself up and was taken away.

Drama aside, it's left me with a lot of questions. The sort of questions that don't have tidy answers. The sort we often don't want to think about for that reason. But this is not a character wrapped up in a screenplay reality, with a story line that neatly starts and ends within a few days or weeks. I have had a part to play, and a much more personal perspective.
I'll admit I've felt some relief, or at least reprieve, with the crow guy gone for awhile, at not having to wonder what state he's in today, or check for his presence outside before letting the dogs out in the yard. I'm also apprehensive about what's coming. We don't know where he was taken or for how long, and will not likely be informed when he's released. There's a good chance he's going to be pretty angry when he comes back, and he has a pattern of being highly suspicious of those around him after an outburst or when authorities have been called.
But beyond that, I'm concerned for him. I want to know if he's getting help from competent people wherever he's at. Is there anyone within the system who's been able to gain his trust before? Is there anyone who has contact with his grown sons, one of whom was over and did his best to calm down and reign in his dad during this most recent episode. Do they have support and resources to help their father? As his neighbour, how do I strike a balance between offering a hand of friendship, and ensuring the safety and security of my family, especially my children.

I've done a lot of reading on mental health and various mental disorders over the last year while trying to understand my own experiences. I've talked to a number of friends who've struggled with different symptoms and disorders. I happened to just finish reading a book, The Soloist, that chronicles part of the life of a promising musician who was afflicted with schizophrenia.
To my knowledge - it was mentioned in passing by our former landlord - it is schizophrenia that has long plagued our neighbour.
I'm no psychologist, but in what I've picked up there's a consistent dividing line between psychoses and other mental health issues, where psychoses have some element of disconnect with reality. In my research this past year, I've found commonalities between my experiences and many of the different categories of illness I've looked at. I've recognized that I've been lucky that many of the symptoms I've experienced have been fairly limited, often just enough to trouble me with a taste of what it must be like to deal with similar symptoms in a full blown form. I also count myself fortunate to have stayed on the connected side of that dividing line to psychosis.

I was very glad that I happened to be out at a speech therapy session with Trinity for most of this incident, and just happened to pick that week to take a detour to visit a friend after the session, so that when I arrived on our block, Trin was asleep in the car and I only had to wonder for five or ten minutes before they cleared up the operation and I could go home and check in with the Bear, Eli and the nanny.
This was not the case with the last major incident with the crow guy. I was pretty much full term with Eli when a minor indiscretion of a friend's young puppy set him off. We were heading for coffee, when the puppy slipped past me out of her car and ran on the other side of our fence, on the crow guy's property, to playfully chase our dogs on our side of the fence. By the time we had retrieved the puppy, who had run a couple of laps front to back down his property, he was standing in the street in front of us, with a roofing hatchet in hand, screaming and threatening us.
Even then, we wrestled with whether to press charges because we were concerned first and foremost that he get the help he clearly needed. That obviously added some tension to our neighbourly relationship, and many awkward moments of avoided eye contact. A couple of times when opportunities arose, I tried to extend an olive branch of sorts. Sadly, it seemed to trigger his paranoia. Over the last few months, though, it was my very charming son who seemed to bridge the chasm and soften up the crow guy. A few well timed waves and smiles as the crow guy drove by or sat on his porch, and I no longer felt the need to usher the kids past that first property on walks for fear they'd pull a flower or step over a boundary and set him off. The crow guy even came out to give the kids some leftover bubbles one of his grandkids had left in his trailer.

It bothers me immensely that a troubled man has to get to a point of bearing weapons on a street dotted with young families before action is taken, and that it then has to come in the form of forcible removal from his home at gunpoint. This is not a case where there were no previous indications. There are a number of people who have lived on this block for decades, and known this man and his occasional outbursts, but have generally gotten along with him. But over the last few years he has gotten steadily worse.
I don't know what should have happened. I don't know how to strike that balance between the rights of the individual to have some say in their own health and lifestyle, the safety and the security of the public at large, and the health and safety of the person whose very mental illness may make it difficult for him to recognize his need for help and accept what is offered. But I feel for our crow guy and his family. I feel the need to at least voice the questions, that perhaps a few more people would pause before pronouncing judgment on 'the crazy down the street.' I hope that I will find ways to let him know, gently, that we understand at least a little, and we hope to meet up again with that personable guy in the garden.

Like peas in a pod?

2009-08-08T22:23:00.004-07:00

There's absolutely no mistaking the physical resemblance between my two offspring. Blue eyes, blonde hair, a certain twinkle in their eyes. When I look at baby pictures of them at the same ages, they look very much alike.
My sister and I, too, look very much alike in pictures. But we're two very different people. In my first year of university, my sister was studying at the same school, and if I found myself near one of the buildings she spent most of her time around, I'd sometimes get a nod or a wave from someone I'd never met before. I'd wave back and carry on, with a bit of a smile to myself 'cause I knew I'd just been taken for my sister by someone who clearly (in my mind, anyway) didn't know her very well.

Well, Trin's ~~a month shy of her third birthday~~ coming up on three and ahalf, and Eli's ~~a couple of months past his first~~ almost 20 months, but they are already very different creatures.
Trin has always been rather tentative in her approach to new skills. She seems to want to be sure she can do it right before she begins. When she was learning to walk, she took those first steps beyond the 'step-dive' maneouvre at 12 months, taking 3, 5 and 7 steps in the space of an hour. Then she went back to crawling and cruising till 15 months, in the airport on the way to Hawaii, at which point she took off and never looked back.
Eli is very much a jump in with both feet kinda guy. He's always pushing the limits of what he can do. He started walking on his own by about 11 months, and as soon as he figured that out, he seemed to switch gears to focus on trying to talk. He's quick - quick to learn and quick to move. A couple of months ago, I went to the mall with the kids to get my cell phone sorted out. I let go of his hand for maybe 30 seconds in the store while I fished stuff out for the clerk. Did the semiautomatic headcount scan and he was gone. A family friend happened to be in the mall and bumped into him (almost literally from what I hear) at the other end of the mall within a few minutes. (and yes, I scoured Zeller's for a harness for him before leaving the mall that same day).
Trin has always been pretty content and complacent. When she started daycare it took her some time (probably upwards of half a year) to learn that she didn't have to let all the other kids walk away with her toys. Eli has always known exactly what he wants and been good at making it known. And that, of course, has been a major motivator for stretching those skills boundaries: "How do I get to that, and if I can't get there myself, how can I get someone else to get it for me?"

In an odd way, though, these differences are starting to make them more alike. Trin has had some significant developmental delays in a number of areas, due to some underlying strength and stamina issues that we're still working to diagnose. With Eli being rather ahead of the curve, they wind up pretty close to the same point. Eli's already got better coordination, strength and stamina than his big sister, though he's lacking some finesse in the fine motor areas yet. And there are days where he's as understandable as Trin, though what he says may be simpler in form.

They learn from each other, adapt to each other, and look out for each other. And I can see them becoming a really neat pair as they grow. Not so much peas in a pod, more like strawberry and rhubarb. Different but quite complimentary.

A momentary change of pace

2009-07-27T22:20:00.005-07:00

Life with two young kids keeps you going. It's downright crazy at times. Probably no more so here than in other homes with two (or more) pairs of little feet trotting ever in different directions, but I don't have to trump anyone with epic tales for you to understand why my writing has been far from prolific.
So, now. How does it happen that I find just a little bit of time to post again tonight? Well, my two pairs of little feet are marking paths around Port Moody with their Mor Mor for a few days.
I've been very much looking forward to this, a few days with my hands free to make some progress on the list. And time to spend with some girlfriends who were visiting. Indeed, we did some marathon shopping (apparently, I'm an enabler for shopaholics), and hosted a little party Saturday, and Sunday I did roll the carpet of weeds back a little further in the yard, puttered a bit with some new art materials and slept more than I thought I could on the couch in the middle of the day.
But I found something was definitely missing. I've been dragging myself along, feeling rather low. I've done alright with taking advantage of the freedom, but even the fun stuff like art puttering didn't give much satisfaction.
It took me some time to put my finger on it, and when I did, it was an oddly pleasant surprise. I was missing the kids. Not just in a 'miss their smiling faces' way, a sentimental something you could neatly frame and put up on the dresser. No, with all that I struggle with, and all the ways it's so closely tied to the kids, as hard as it is sometimes just to spend a day with them and still keep myself together, nothing else in my life fulfills me like sharing life with them. Finding ways to connect with Trin when her words won't come. Watching the wonder in Eli's eyes as he discovers the world around him, and leaving him room to conquer a bit more of it, safely. And stretching out those chance moments I get with each of them alone, one on one.
In an odd way, the struggle seems to be part of the satisfaction, not only of parenting, but of all the other things that don't get done as well or as often when you're raising little kids.

I'm wrapping this post up in the morning, before I dig into my work day. With my current mental state, I struggle at the best of times to stay focused and on track with my work, If I'm working from home, as I sometimes do, I can pretty much guarantee a few 'MUMMEE!!' interruptions, and I'll chat with Trin or look at whatever she's brought to show me and then shepherd her back out to the living room, or occupy Eli while Sheryll draws Trin in to put on her socks and shoes for a walk.
Today, I'm working from home again, saving the commute time knowing that there'll be no-one bursting in on me, no backdrop of toddler chaos and drama. But I know where my head will be, too. It's already there at the ferry terminal, waiting to scoop up my babies and get back to the crazy daze of parenting.

Happy Birthday to me!

2009-06-11T09:32:00.002-07:00

Well, it's not actually my birthday, yet, but I did give myself an early present. Yesterday I went into the hospital to get my tubes tied. Or fried, to be slightly more accurate. And so here I am, taking a couple of days off at home, with time to actually post to my much neglected blog.
We made this decision a long time ago, shortly after we found out we were pregnant with Eli, in fact. I talked to my GP almost as soon as the three month minimum post partum wait was up, only to find I'd be waiting quite a bit longer. Sometime in early March I got a call, for an initial consultation late April, and an average of six weeks or so after that for surgery.
Which all amounts to another ten months to consider the choice. I've thought about it a lot, and it makes each of those milestones that are passing all to quickly with Eli a bit more precious, but I don't think I've ever really come close to changing my mind. It would have been a harder choice if I were maybe ten or fifteen years younger, with that many more potential childbearing years to cut off. But I'll be thirty-seven in a couple of weeks, and unless I had another in very short order, I'd likely be done anyway.
Probably the biggest factor for me, though, has been the struggle with mental health issues. Eli's a year old now, and at some point things cease to fit into a neat postpartum package. They simple become a part of ongoing life. As with any other health issue, you seek out ways to manage the disease, and work to maintain a balance in your life, always juggling a bit as things shift. I can no longer do my job the way I used to, and have to keep that in mind as assignments change. The children grow and develop and different issues come up that require different strategies, and take different tolls. And you reevaluate and adapt.
I do look back on the last few years, though, especially as I have a few longer stretches of clarity, and am a bit saddened to see signs of the impact this has had on my kids. The times I've not been able to be fully present with Trin, when I've simply been doing what I know I ought to, working up a smile and a kiss, but not fully there. I can't help but think this has been a factor in her developmental delays, and in the insecurity that shows itself now and then. It's far from the only factor, her sickness last year was a big part of it I'm sure, and it's not a guilt I feel, just a regret that this was how it had to be, and that in some cases I didn't have the energy to advocate and intervene sooner on some fronts. Eli's doing great developmentally - in fact I wouldn't mind at all if he slowed down a bit. But I'm disappointed, to put it a bit mildly, that I've missed out so much on really enjoying that first year - being fully in love with my babies. I've had a few of those really good days lately, and they're wonderful, but it kinda hits home about how much I've lost.
So, to think there won't be any more first smiles, first giggles, first hugs, first words or first steps makes me feel a little nostalgic. But I love the two blessed, beautiful babes I've got, and I want to take care of myself so that I can be more to them. And for me, that means taking no further chances with aggravating mood and anxiety disorders with another child. As time goes by, I hope and pray and expect things will continue to get better, the good stretches brighter and maybe longer, the dark spaces more manageable. We can't go back but in the days ahead I'll be able to make up for some of what we've missed. I pray, too, that my children will learn from my struggle, to become resilient to depression and anxiety themselves, and to grow up to be empathetic to those in their lives who struggle like this.

Of course, no post on this topic would be complete without some reference to the joyous return of spontaneity, freedom and stress reduction to our sex life. No more hormones messing me up, no more double backup to be extra sure (we don't trust much to be fully safe after the IUD :). Which could all make for a great birthday party! And one less thing to stress over in life, and a little more access to a great outlet for the other tensions, is good for all of us!

Life is good

2009-03-20T22:05:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's hard, and now is certainly one of those times, but it's good.

I was talking with a friend sometime last ~~week~~ month, and an offhand comment stuck with me. I'm not even sure what we were talking about before. "You think your life sucks? You should try walking in my shoes." Now, we didn't go any further with that thread, so I don't know what trials were wearing on her at that point, and obviously it wouldn't be for me to share here if I did. I expect it was an overflow of frustration with any number of things piling up on her horizon. I do know very well that any trip down her path would be far from a vacation. I know I couldn't do what she does, and I don't know how she does and handles everything else as well as she does.
But the reason the comment stuck with me actually has nothing to do with her. In the back of my mind, it bothered me that, doubtless due to all the talk of my various struggles, I'd given someone the impression that I thought my life sucked. I like my life. And you should know that if I didn't feel that with some certainty, it would be a lot harder than it is.

A little disclaimer here. The rest of this post could get a little graphic, a little scary perhaps. If you're the sensitive type, or you're just feeling a little vulnerable now, you might want to skip this and come back another time.
That said, I choose to share this because one of the hardest things about going through depression and mental health issues of any sort is feeling like you're the only one who's ever felt this way or experienced this. I know of at least a few people who are currently struggling with something similar, more who've been there before and perhaps there are others among my readers who are still silent. And perhaps there are some out there who will stumble on this little corner of blunt reality and feel a little less alone.

One of the ways depression manifests itself for me is intrusive thoughts. Ugly thoughts about things I might do or that might happen. I've learned, though, that there's a huge difference between the thought that just crosses my mind and the one that sets up camp. If, say, the thought of shooting myself in the head fluttered past in a moment of high stress, I'd let it go and pay it no mind.
On the other hand, if it started doing laps, passing by somewhat predictably, I'd need to pay some attention to what was happening, lest it just sidle up on beside me like a shadow.

This is where things get a little hazy. I started this post well over a month ago and so much has happened - little day to day things that keep me busy as well as grander things pondered, learned or revealed. It's hard to remember exactly where I was at and where I was going when I left off writing this post. As such, it won't be quite as potent as it would have been had I managed to finish it much sooner. The sharper edges grow dull with distance.
But if I look at what I'd written, I remember one key point quite clearly. The marked contrast between those dark thoughts that sometimes fill my mind, and what I really believe and value. When things are most off balance, when the storms in my head are raging, it's difficult to see anything else. I seek desperately for any way out of the chaos, and that's where the dark thoughts come in. The urges for anything other than the chaos. Nothing makes much sense, especially from the outside looking back, but in the midst of it somehow it seems that slamming my head against a door frame would be a useful tactic for dealing with it. As obviously irrational as that is, it is amazingly difficult in that state to fight those urges and follow reason.
That's where I was when I realized I needed more than a little moral support or a day off. When I knew I had to talk to my doctor and take some concrete steps. I had given in to those urges on a couple of occasions. Feeling totally out of control, even over myself, I had ducked around the corner from whatever room the kids were in and let loose. The result? Add a horrendous feeling of guilt and despair at what I'd done to the mix. And a good sized tender spot on the side of my head. Then came the day when I didn't leave. I didn't have even so much control left as to spare my kids that sight.

When I'd come through the initial challenge of finding the right meds, I remember I described the effect of the meds as keeping a lid on things. Keeping the thoughts and anxieties from boiling over. Leaving enough room in the cauldron for reality to remain on top, and just let the steam out slowly.
In the calmer times, I'm able to go through those alien thoughts and think about what I really do believe. In the last couple of months, there've been a few longer stretches of calm, and I can see things a little clearer, bit by bit. When that door frame taunts me lately, I've been able to recognize not only that it's not what I want, but that I'm really longing for a place to rest my head. I can change the picture.
After I started this post, I was bathing the kids one night, and peeling again at the plastic liner that didn't come off the tub before we started using it. We were trying to protect the new tub while various construction stuff continued, but the end result is that it's no longer going to peel off nicely. So every time we have a bath, I peel at the edges of the film. The film is now pretty grungy and a little grey, so as I peel back more and more the clear surface is revealed. That's kind of what it feels like to be coming out of this. Very slowly.
As dark as things sometimes get, even when I'm desperate for anything that feels like control, even an end to life, I've always known that my life is good. It's hard, in more than a few ways, but it's good. I have two beautiful children. I have a marriage that, while bumpy, has been a blessing through 12 years and is worth fighting for. I've been blessed with good friends who encourage and inspire me. There've been cracks of light from unexpected sources. I've been blessed with gifts and abilities and great opportunities to use them. And above all I know there is a purpose for my life.
Knowing all this gives me strength in the storms. And the means to capture those dark thoughts and turn them back. And that's about as far from a life that sucks as I can imagine.

Language learning made easy, if not exactly accurate

2009-03-10T21:58:00.005-07:00

Ok, so I haven't posted anything in a long while. There are posts in the works, but not the sort I can rattle off in my spare moments. But this, this just begs to be shared. Soon. And widely.

Caught this on a banner ad just a little while ago. I was so glad it was one that cycles through a loop so I could catch a screen shot. This speaks volumes for the quality of language training available, don't ya think?

Somewhere, right about now, a designer is polishing up her resume.

around the next bend

2009-01-26T07:59:00.003-08:00

I should really learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes. In a previous post, I took you all on a ride with a roller coaster metaphor. I talked about what might come next, around that next bend. I left the door wide open with "something crazy and unexpected."
I definitely didn't expect what came Saturday morning. The Bear was working for the morning, and I was wandering through a typical morning with the kids, with wake ups, changes and food. Weighing out the options for what to do with the day, store run, library or pool. At some point, I recognized a slight feeling of uneasiness, not entirely unfamiliar on days when I know I've got the kids for the full day. Generally, this feeling translates to a little less patience with any testing by the kids, but the kids were pretty content.
But, that morning, the uneasiness took on a life of its own. I felt it building up, and I decided it would be a good time to take the kids and dogs for a walk. But long before it got there, it escalated to something I've never experienced. An anxiety attack. Crazy and unexpected. I didn't know what was happening or how far this might go. I was terrified that I couldn't do anything for the kids if they needed me. It was everything I could do to keep breathing. I called my two childcare options, but nobody answered. I called the Bear to let him know. And with much struggle, I got the kids haphazardly bundled into the stroller and we were out of the house.
The attack, which lasted probably 45 minutes, had started to subside a bit by the time I got out the door, and tapered off as I pushed around the block a few times, checking known neighbours' windows for signs of someone who'd be up and able to help. When I got back, I tried my daycare backup again, and she was home, so I went there with the kids, stayed for awhile until the Bear was home, and then left the kids with her for most of the day.
In talking with a few people, I've learned that mine was probably only a moderate attack, but it was quite terrifying enough. Seriously, it ranked up there with being screamed at by the angry schizophrenic with a roofing hatchet in hand.

When I came home Saturday, one of my urges was to blog it all, raw and real, as soon as possible, as it was such a strange, but internal, experience that I was afraid that if I didn't put it out there it would fade and I would be questioning if it really happened. I wasn't too far off, as within a few hours, my recollection was vague and fuzzy. But it did happen. And I'm looking into what I can do to reduce the odds of it happening again, as well as preparing myself to better deal with it if and when it does.
The kids are sick, and home with me again today, but I know if anything should come up today, daycare is just down the street. Writing about this has made me a little jumpy, but I needed to do it. I'm going to sign off now, and have some juice and a few deep breaths before I check on the kids again.

Tidbits

2009-01-23T19:02:00.003-08:00

Trin has started a bandaid collection. It began earlier in the week. She came home from daycare with a scrape on the inside of her finger. Nothing too nasty, but just because of where it was, and some missing skin, it needed covering. So a little bandaid, a little ointment. She did make it a bit of a conversation piece, but she didn't pull it off.
Today, we were walking home from daycare. We were a little late heading out, as Eli had skipped his morning nap and was still sleeping when I came. Trin, too, had resisted a nap, so she was tired, though surprisingly not taking on the usual sleepless toddler demeanour. One thing is always consistent, though, when Trin is tired. She gets clumsy. (Or clumsier - she's got a ways to go before they invite her to the national ballet.) Sure enough, about halfway home, she tripped on the sidewalk and took a tumble. She's a tough girl, but I knew she was tired and likely to trip again, so I picked her up and carried her the last bit.
Back at home, we carried on. A little later, she tried to tell me something. I didn't quite understand, but I knew it was about something upstairs. She often goes upstairs to get one of her dolls, or put them to bed, or..., so I figured it would be something related. I let her start on her way up and followed a few minutes later to see what was up.
At the top of the steps, Trin was fishing through the boxes of bandaids. As I came up the steps, I figured out the word I couldn't place before. Bandaid sounds a lot like baby (doll) and a few other common phrases in Trinese. I helped her get her tights off, and she showed me a good little scrape on her left knee. We picked out a suitable bandaid and sealed her up. Then she pointed to the smaller scrape on her right knee. "Ouch!" Another bandaid. She fished a bit for a final strip to cover the little scratch under the main scrape, but I persuaded her she could handle that one without. I realized our stash of bandaids - at least the kinds that actually stick on toddlers - is getting low, and I'll have to stock up. Hopefully she doesn't become a major addict :)

One of my favourite shirts on Eli is a button up plaid shirt, lined with a light cotton knit. It's a handsome little big boy shirt, size 18 months. It's from the Gap, which is pretty generous in their sizes. It just fits him now, though you probably couldn't do up the top button easily, if at all. I picked up a few shirts at my favourite consignment store earlier this month, all size 24 months. They fit him pretty well. He's not even eight months old! I had to abandon a number of his non-buttoned shirts recently because I couldn't get his arms into the holes without dislocating his shoulders. Apparently they don't design baby clothes for linebackers.

For those of you who follow my erratic facebook statuses, my prediction came true. Eli crawled for the first time last night. Not far - inches really - but with bum up, arms and legs going and resulting in forward motion. Apparently today he spent much of his day working on pulling up. That seems to be why he was too busy for a morning nap. Important work to do. "I crawled six inches yesterday, now it's time to walk."

Trin is apparently taking the two-year-old thing to the next level, and the sassy sparkle that's lit her eyes when she's given me the gears in the past has begun to twinkle for Shannon, too. I'm told the other day she had a time out at daycare, and when Shannon was having a talk with her, Trin rolled her tongue around in her cheek and did her best to obviously ignore her. Getting saucy that one, I'll have to keep my eye on her.

Eli can get himself down on his belly and back up to sitting. He still enjoys trying to launch himself into orbit in the exersaucer, if only for much shorter periods. I'm told he learned to clap today, too. Music was on, all the little ones were singing and clapping, Eli was enjoying the scene, and doing the usual baby misfires to participate. Until his two hands made contact the first time, and apparently that was all he needed and he clapped away for a bit.
Sometimes he kinda scares me with how fast he grows.

Trin seems very much into her ABCs these days, rounding up the little foam letters that have been dispersed from the bathtub collection. I think she's kind of intrigued with the concept of these symbols, and wants to remember which ones are which. She's got two versions of Dr. Seuss's ABCs, but that's fodder for a whole different post.

Lately Eli quite loves jerking his head forward like an eighties punker. He's only beaned himself once, so far, on a smooth flat floor. I'm hoping it will be a short lived habit, and that it won't take a trip to emerg to cure him of it.
He'll feed himself cheerios and raisins, and munches them up quite well with all those front teeth.

And what post of random wee one snippets would be complete without a few current pics. Made a point of snapping off a few earlier tonight to have something for you. I hope to be together enough one of these mornings to bring the camera along to Shanni's and have her take some shots for me. You know, so I'm not the one always behind the camera. Evidence that I actually do spend time with my own kids. If it happens, I'll be sure to post some of the favourites. In the meantime here's some quick shots.

Trin after bumping her knees yet again. See my owies?
Trin a little later, having bounced back like a good little viking
Check out the teeth
and the shoulders
With a month or so's less hair, Eli in one of my favourite vests, posing in his chair

Progress

2009-01-19T17:54:00.003-08:00

I had a couple of posts rattling around in my head that had absolutely nothing to do with postpartum disorders. A change of pace. Probably much needed, as I read through my last two posts earlier today, and they were basically both rambling on over the same stuff. Good evidence that I have indeed been kinda hazy.
But here I am again, my thoughts dominated by how PPD has affected me, and where I'm at in this journey. Those other posts will wait (how many months have they been on the far back burner already?)
The weekend was interesting. Not theoretical lecture on social engineering interesting, or what so-and-so said to such-and-such interesting. I mean roller coaster interesting.
It seems the fog lifted a little this weekend. I found myself feeling things much more than I have in a long while. Laughing at my seven-month-old son giggling at discovering his sense of balance on his feet. Catching little games my two-year-old plays. I even felt more for my dogs.
My dogs. My poor dogs. Before kids, I was the dog lady. In K-town we had a big fenced yard. They got walked at least once a day, played with, run on the bike, taken to work, taken 4X4ing up to the hills. They went where we went. My mom even affectionately called them her four-legged grandchildren. The last few months, they've been lucky to get a decent walk a week. And with the issues we have with one neighbour, we can't even leave them in our much smaller yard for any length of time to play. I did my best to look after them, but it was rather mechanical. I see that pretty clearly now. But Friday night, it wasn't Eli that got me up, it was Diesel. His ear was infected and driving him nuts, and his headshaking, with corresponding collar jingling and ear flapping, was driving us nuts. I dug around the basement for the ear cleansing solution and did what I could to clean him up. Oh, he was so happy. And even at four in the morning, it felt kinda good to make him happy, and not feel like I was doing everything I could to give them a totally inadequate life. They've had a few more spontaneous head rubs since, too.
It was a similar sort of awakening with the kids. A subtle shift, or maybe not so subtle, from doing what I thought I was supposed to do, or what I should enjoy, to what felt right. Not a complete turnaround, but I was definitely more alive.
The slightly frightening other side to this bed I woke up in held the feelings of fear, of hurt, despair and, most frightening to me, anger. They, too, had been muffled, distant and a bit detached, like a dream. They, too, were a little more real now. Hence the roller coaster, and the certainty that I'm not coming off the meds anytime soon, nor would I be remotely ready to be with the kids full time.
I don't know what lies around the bend. If there's another climb to the next big drop, or loops or spins or something crazy and unexpected. I'm hardly a coaster aficionado, but in the classic coasters of my youth, the biggest falls were at the start, and after doing their best to scare the pants off you, they slowly back off the throttle to smaller hills and bumps. A few surprises late in the ride to keep you guessing 'til you're back in the gate. Maybe I'm past the biggest drops. Maybe there's lots to come. Maybe it's just the three or four days of solid sunshine that's behind this little lift - the lull between turns where you get a look at some scenery.
Whatever it is, I'll take it. I've had a taste of the joy of motherhood again. I've started to enjoy music again. (I realized at some point that I had hardly sung at all for Eli, whereas after Trin's birth I'd sung more than I had in years, even some days through tears. I remember wanting to sing for Eli, but I couldn't find my voice - I couldn't think of anything, even silly songs, that would come out. This really hit home at a church Christmas dinner. It was a good night, and when someone led in some carols, I was singing along with Eli on my arm, and looked down to see wonder in his little eyes. He'd never in six months heard me really sing.)
And if it's God's grace in timing, giving me a little clarity in my head when I'll need it for work, I'll definitely take it. I know that He's there, too, when reality is frightening. And that His amazing grace knows no end.

Maybe, just maybe, by the next post I'll have gotten the camera out and taken some fresh pics for you all.

Good night

2009-01-14T22:29:00.002-08:00

Well, once again, I really ought to be heading to bed. I've got meetings tomorrow, including an intro to a new project I'll be joining. I should be heading for bed as early as I can.
But I'm feeling pretty good tonight, and that's a good reason to share.

The last week or so has been kinda hazy. I'm not much liking being back at work. I've only had about a half load of project work, and I still struggle to put in a full day's work. A couple of days have been near total write-offs: I just couldn't get my head into the game, let alone keep it focused there. Fortunately, with the new year I have some vacation time again that I can throw to those days.
The Bear is full swing into his new job, working lots of overtime, evenings and weekends, so we're both pretty tired.
Last week when I took Eli in for his shots, the nurse gave me the postpartum screening questionnaire again, and I got a score of 14 - high enough to get her attention. I wasn't exactly surprised, but it was still a bit of a wake up call. I expect within a week, I'll have full time demands at work with the new project. I needed to be realistic about where I was at. I've been feeling the tension building, and I've definitely been more down. And more sensitive to little things.
Little things like a growing sense that my toddler doesn't always like me so much. Honestly, at a bad moment, the words in my head are a little stronger than that, but it's a good moment. That whole mother daughter dynamic is heating up so early. I see it when her whole demeanor shifts from testing and defying me at home, to smiling and charming everyone at daycare. And back again at day's end.
Today didn't start off any different. But somewhere over the course of the evening, the surface grit began to soften. She didn't argue when i asked if she needed to go pee, and came and got me when she eventually needed the bathroom. (A little late, but she's been doing awesome at daycare, so it felt good just to rate the effort.) But I think it was really a little string of precious mama moments, just for me, that warmed me up. Going up the stairs to help her retrieve her baby (doll) from the new doll bed she got and finding her baby 'tucked in' under the mattress. Helping her wrap the baby up when it was time for bed. Being able to offer her a bowl of fruit for dessert after putting Eli to bed, no strings or agenda, because she quite happily ate a very good portion of her supper. Catching one of her little sentences and watching the look of relief and excitement when she hears that I understood what she said.
So, I've got a smile on my face. And with a lot of stuff on my mind, and some pretty scary trials in the lives of some close friends this week, that's refreshing. I know that with the increasing workload coming down the pipeline, and what I've seen and felt in myself lately, I'm vulnerable. This week I decided to try and work my schedule to leave time to make it to a postpartum support group. I called up the health unit to get the details and register. I've put it in my work calendar for the next five weeks, and we'll see how it goes.
Meanwhile, I should sleep well tonight, so long as Eli doesn't start working on tooth number seven tonight. Sweet dreams.

needing to write

2009-01-09T22:18:00.004-08:00

I'm almost overwhelmed with the need to write tonight. Oh, I often want to write, long to even. Mostly I take moments to wish I had more time to sit down and enjoy the process of writing. Right now, I should probably be curled up in bed, asleep. In fact, I am in bed. I'd already shut down my laptop downstairs, dutifully checking to see what needs - really needs - doing tonight. Thinking I should take advantage of the Friday night status that means I don't need to have things lined up for the kids in the morning. Thinking I should get to bed early.

But it's been so long since I talked to you all. The kids are growing and changing so fast. Life's progressing, up and down and in and out. And some things go on day after day.
I think, no, I know, that there's one thing that's fired up the need to write in me tonight. I stumbled across a blog the other day while looking up postpartum screening to try and find out what my 'score' meant. Postpartum Progress is written by a woman who suffered from postpartum obsessive compulsive disorder, and who has since become a major advocate around perinatal mood and anxiety disorders. I went back there tonight for a closer look. I am so glad I did, and I'll be visiting again. I read only a few brief posts, but I felt tears welling up, and just beginning to spill over. That in itself was actually a good thing. If I'm honest with myself, so much of my energy some days goes into just getting on with what needs doing, and the emotions get kinda buried. Sometimes I've taken the moment and needed to cry, but just couldn't.
I would highly recommend this site to anyone who is dealing with similar struggles, or knows someone who is, or just wants to understand it more. For that matter, even if you just want an example of a brilliant resource blog, check it out.

So, now that I'm writing anyways, here are a few random updates before I call it a night.
Eli is healthy. And growing in so many ways. I took him for his six month shots (yes, he's now seven months, but it's been a little crazy, eh?) on Tuesday. That was also the first time he was weighed since Hallowe'en. He's just shy of a very solid 10 kilos or 22 pounds. That's a gain of 1.6 kg or over three and a half pounds. And at that, he's not super round. He's just big. He's got broad shoulders, if you can believe that in a baby. He's outgrowing things because I can't get both arms in without contorting him horribly. At this point anything I buy is 18 month or more. He's starting to take over Trin's shirts (nothing too girly, guys) almost as fast as she outgrows them. She's 4 times his age, and she's not exactly tiny either! I expect it won't be more than a year or so before he's giving her his hand me downs ;)
Trin's becoming more outgoing these days. As Shannon put it, seeing her this week after two weeks off, her personality is flowering. And I think she's finally over being ticked off at me for having another baby. She never took it out on her little bro, thankfully, but she was definitely unhappy with me about it. I suspect she's still a little unhappy, but now it's more because I don't have the time and energy to be much fun most of the time. Which makes me a little sad of course. But the kids get along. Sometimes, I'm quite sure they're conspiring, or at least sharing some great inside jokes. I'll be halfway down the stairs with one on each hip and they'll start giggling hysterically at each other. Eli's got such an adorable giggle, too.
I've been back at work for a couple of months now. Thankfully, I haven't had a full assignment load, and working from home, it's allowed me to keep a bit more balance. I'm wary, though, as that period of grace may well be coming to an end next week. There's a full time position on another project that I'm being lined up for, with some preliminary work starting right away. It'll be lots of God's grace that'll get me through, then. And I'll need to be pretty assertive at setting expectations up front as far as how much (or little) I can work and when.
Vince has been at his new job for a little over a month now, and is racking up the overtime, which will definitely be helpful in starting to fill in the financial hole we dug ourselves into over the last year or so.
More stats and tidbits. Trin's well on the road to ditching the diaper habit. She's been telling Shannon when she needs to poop (another sort of flowering) at daycare, and I'll be dressing her in her much loved big girl underpants when she's home with me. Eli's got five teeth now, and I'm pretty sure he's working on more again. He can stand holding on to furniture. He can also pull furniture down, like the kitchen chairs and the jolly jumper stand. He's gone from being a 'hold me all day' mama's boy to a 'put me down already' adventurer in the last few weeks. And like his big sister, he's a sweetheart almost all the time, always at daycare, and saves his best tantrums for mama at the end of the day.
I bought a bunch of material at a holiday sale at Fabricland, all cotton stuff for my sensitive skinned boy. Even bought a pattern. With luck I'll get to sewing it for my grand kids. Hmm... maybe I can wrangle Mor-mor into sewing for me....

I know there's more in the corners of my mind, but what's left is wedged in tight for the moment, and I'm all out of ramble. So, for all you hangers on that still check in (or have me on your feeds) thanks for sticking with me, hope this was worth the wait and will satisfy you for what may be another long while.
Good night.

What's in a name

2008-12-13T12:08:00.000-08:00

This clearly falls in that broad category of posts that have been in the queue for awhile. In fact, it's been brewing since before we named names not quite five months ago. We thought a lot about what to call our second child, our son, even deliberating a bit after he arrived. In the end we gave him three names. Eliakim Hunter Leonidas. Quite a mouthful I'll concede, but I'd like to share a bit of where they came from.

A little out of order, I'll take the second name first, 'cause it's simple. If Trin had been a boy, she would have been Caleb Hunter. Caleb was my choice, Hunter the Bear's, but I liked it. Strong. Somehow the second baby never felt like a Caleb, but we kept Hunter.

Back to his first name, regular readers may recall some broad hints when I made the initial announcement that our second pregnancy was a little unexpected. The bare fact was, we were still recovering from the shock of all the changes after our first child, and adjusting to my status as working mom. There seemed little doubt I was made to make babies - smooth pregnancy and quick, uncomplicated delivery. Caring for and living with them, however, turned out to be a much greater challenge even than I had imagined. Though all else being equal I wasn't keen on raising an only child, I was not entirely certain we could handle another.
While we were still wrestling with this question, we had opted for what was intended to be a pretty foolproof, hands off means of postponing any final decision. I had had an IUD inserted when Tweety was about 4 months.
One of the lingering after effects of Tweety's birth was a shift in my body's response to hormones, with the result that my monthly cycle was a pretty wild ride. While I was on leave, this just meant that not much beyond the basics got done for a few days, and in fact I was only vaguely aware that I seemed a little more sensitive. When I returned to work, however, it was rather like a steamroller. Four straight days I couldn't think straight, obsessive thoughts chugging like a steam train down the track to a broken bridge. (Thankfully, it landed across a weekend, so it was only two days of work that I was useless.) Being in the midst of the transition to 'working mom', these thoughts mostly fixated on the future, and the dilemma of to have or not have another child. Not a bad thing to ponder, when you're in your right mind, but let's just say these weren't constructive thoughts.
I went to see the doc after that, as I knew I had to do something if this was going to be the norm going forward. The doc said we should monitor it, and I was to take some notes next cycle and get back to her.
Of course, the next cycle never came. I was back at work for less than a month before I was pregnant again. And the dilemma of decision was gone. I was stunned, and afraid, but I'll also admit to being somewhat relieved that the decision had been made for us. In the post partum delirium of Trin's birth, I'd done a lot of second-guessing over our decision to bring another life into this crazy world. But as important as it was for us to have made the conscious choice the first time, it was probably just as positive for us that it was mostly out of our hands the second time. We could easily have chewed over it for another decade.
While we were giving ourselves whiplash over the options for our family, God saw fit to move his plan for us forward. I took comfort in the thought that God thought we could handle this. And I wanted a name that somehow reflected that God's will prevails. I looked for awhile for a name that actually meant God Prevails. I found some sites that said Yoel meant exactly that, but it didn't quite fit right. It sounded a lot like Joel - a lot of sources said it was the Hebrew version - but Joel, I was told, meant 'Yahweh is God'. Also a very good name, but not what I was looking for.
I had all but given up on the search, pushing it to the far back burner for awhile. Then one day, the burner flared up and I came across the name Eliakim. Sources vary a little in their definition, but the one that stuck with me was "Whom God raises up." Not exactly the meaning I'd started off looking for, but almost immediately it felt right. It stuck with me. The Bear took awhile to warm up to it, but it had been the same for me with Trin's name.

Now, as every mother - and some women who've yet to be so blessed - knows, getting pregnant is just the start of the journey. And this pregnancy was different for me than my first. Relatively moderate as far as the classic trials, especially in comparison to some women I know. But it had its unique trials, and this little guy showed from the start that he was rather determined to be here.
Of course the unexpected nature of this pregnancy meant that when one decision was taken from us, another tough one came up right away. We have a little life beginning to grow within me, but it's sharing its space with a device meant to keep it from starting. An ultrasound at just five weeks showed the IUD was still exactly where it was supposed to be, and a small dark circle was tucked in right beside it. There's remarkably little real information out there about the risks of removing the IUD or keeping it in, so it was tough, but in time I decided to have it removed, and reduce the risks of complications later in the pregnancy. The little guy hung in there, and we were still pregnant a month later, and the second ultrasound showed a nice strong little heartbeat.
In the realm of more classical pregnancy ailments, I was queasy through to about the halfway mark. Thankfully I didn't actually vomit, I just couldn't eat much after a certain point in the morning. It was hard to eat what I ought. In fact, apart from my belly, I was losing weight. But the little guy managed to find everything he needed to grow. Fast. The standard ultrasound showed he was a little ahead of the curve. So did my belly. If I hadn't already had two ultrasounds, I might have expected twins.
When the queasiness finally subsided, the sheer size of my belly still meant it was a challenge to eat enough. I peaked out at under 25 pounds gained over the whole pregnancy. But it still didn't slow him down.
Which brings us to the delivery. Fast and furious, and the practice's biggest vaginal delivery for the year. And he was thriving from the start, eating well and taking in the new world around him.
The third name, had been suggested to the Bear late in the pregnancy. Leonidas was the Spartan king who had led a successful resistance against the Persian army at Thermopylae - the central character in the movie 300. The Bear loved this. I was not so sure I wanted to associate my son with such violence. In any case, I at least had to see the movie first. We debated this one awhile, even after the big arrival. The name means 'Son of Lion.' There had been a bit of a lion theme throughout the pregnancy - little things from totally different sources that kept showing up with lions. And in the end, I figured a boy that big, strong, and determined after all that, was strong enough to carry three names, and Leonidas stayed.
And thus far he bears it well. Eliakim Hunter Leonidas Geisler is about six and a half months now (yes - if you were paying attention, he was not quite five months at the start of this post! Writing time is hard to come by) He is tall and strong. Still hates to miss anything - he needs to be put in another room or have his view blocked if he's to get any nap in the day. He's already making his way around the room with great purpose, rolling and spinning and reaching. He's not quite crawling, but the knees are starting to go up, so it won't be long. He's even pulled himself up a couple of times or stood holding furniture. He's going to give me a heart attack no doubt.
His third tooth is poking through, and I'm pretty sure the fourth is not far below the surface.
He's amazing and wonderful. And I'll be needing all the help I can get to keep up with him and his very different but equally wonderful and amazing sister.

The beginning of the end

2008-10-20T15:27:00.002-07:00

Some of you know I'm heading back to work in a couple of weeks. So, I knew I had some work to do to get Eli ready for full time daycare. Firstly, he'd eaten nothing but me to that point, which has been great. But really, there's only so much you can ask your daycare provider to do. I started by getting a breast pump so I could introduce him to a bottle. I figured I'd pump whatever was manageable at work, and supplement with formula. Thankfully, he took to the bottle fairly well. I was working on pumping enough to give him one or two bottles each day. But the problem was he was almost always demanding my attention, mostly to feed, so the only time I'd get to pump was at the end of the day. By the start of October he was averaging an hour to an hour and a half between feedings through the day, including nap times, and up two or three times in the night (he had been sleeping beautifully through most of the night earlier in the summer).
One night he was up even later than he had been, and I was getting worn out. He was literally tugging on me to get more as I tried to nurse him to sleep. The Bear was beside me on the couch. "I'm really gonna have to introduce some formula soon," I said. He eagerly rose to the occasion. This was a job he knew well from Tweetie's formula days, and frankly, I think he was hoping to get a bit of my time back for himself. My little Titan sucked back the whole bottle like nobody's business and I ordered up another round. He nodded off about an ounce into the second bottle and slept soundly.
I sighed. It was pretty clear at that point that even if I wasn't going back to work I'd probably have a hard time keeping up with his needs. It probably also didn't help that I hardly had time to feed myself properly through the day, so my milk was perhaps not so rich as it once was. My breastfeeding days were numbered, and I spent part of the next day mourning.

Well, as so often happens around here, that was already a couple of weeks ago. When I had been pumping, I had also started to introduce him to just a little bit of rice cereal, thinking it would be easier for me to do the early introduction while I was still at home with him, and if it worked out it might be simpler in the long run with daycare. As it became clear that I wouldn't come remotely close to being able to pump enough for him without basically giving up working anyway, I resigned myself to the idea of just pumping as needed to keep myself comfortable and if possible keep enough milk to handle any night feeds. If I don't have to go down to the kitchen and prep a bottle at 3 in the morning, I'll be much happier at work.
I also decided to start trying a few other foods, since he was eating so well and so much. Since the Bear was off stalking a moose (which he got!) I went to my mom's with the kids for the Thanksgiving weekend. When I went with her to get the last groceries, I picked up a couple of jars of food, figuring that would do me for the weekend. In Tweety's early days of solid food, I often didn't finish the jar before having to dispose of it, so two jars should easily last three days in his first week.
We got home and I spooned out a little of the carrots into a dish and offered it up. He ate it, I dished out some more. He at that, too, and I dumped the rest of the jar. Within about twenty minute he ate the whole thing! I was astonished. Then he had a nice nap ;) A little before supper was served, he was clearly hungry again, so I cracked open the peas and brown rice. It didn't take him long to polish that off either. Oh, and did I mention he also had mashed bananas, rice cereal, several bottles of formula and servings of mom the same day?
Unfortunately for him, his system had a little trouble getting all that solid food through, and he was a little backed up by the time we got home. Oh well, that was probably appropriate for an election day.
He continues to eat steadily, and I'm getting better at finding the right balance of foods for his constitution. He continues to grow. I weighed him last week after his shots and he was 18 lbs. That's half a pound more than the week before and he's probably another half pound by now. A titan he is, and strong.
He holds his head straight and steady, lifts his chest up on the floor, rolls over from tummy to back, and babbles happily when he's not crying about hunger or gas or mama knows not what. "da-da-da-da" is a popular refrain currently.
But right at this moment, he's looking for a clean, fresh bum, so I'll sign off and hope to catch you all again before working life takes over again. I'll try for some pictures, too.

Moments

2008-10-05T13:17:00.006-07:00

Whatever you're doing, wherever you're at, some days are bound to be harder than others. I can't think of any place where this is more true (though perhaps I'll live to discover some) than the hands on, round the clock parenting of little ones. And yesterday was definitely one of those harder days.
Eli was not a happy camper. From his six am feeding after a hungry night, till well after lunch, he would not sleep at all. Not so unusual for him, he's not a big sleeper in the day, but he's usually still content to be in his swing or the playpen for a stretch here and there. After a few laps around the block with Trin in tow, and another quick lap while she was napping, Eli finally cried himself out and nodded off a little after one. Once I saw he was out, I flopped on the couch and was out myself in a few minutes. And then the phone rang. Short and sweet, I rolled over again and was out again soon. And then it seemed I blinked and he was awake and crying again. Barely twenty five minutes, and I hadn't shuffled the laundry or cleared the dishes or wiped the table. The same disastrous chaos surrounded me.
I was back to doing quick laps in the drizzle, wind and rain, and promising the dogs I'd try to get them out for a walk eventually. I tried everything I could think of to try to settle Eli but nothing was working. Trin was of course getting a little cranky, too, by now because my hands were always full with Eli, so I was distracted and much behind with the usual care and feeding routines.
I needed groceries, so I did my best to cover the obvious basic needs and packed up Wailer and Whiner in the car and went to Thrifty's. Eli fell asleep in the sling for the last ten minutes of shopping, but didn't stay that way when I had to put him back into his car seat.
About an hour of meal prep in snippets between attempts to feed, burp, rock, walk or change him to keep him somewhat settled. He finally nodded off again for a little over a half hour, just long enough to get the sauce mostly ready, but not to cook the spaghetti. Cooked the noodles with Eli on my arm, dished up for Trin and took him for another lap up and down the block while she ate. It was a good two hours and several feeds after his usual time when he finally passed out for the night and I was able to eat my own supper.
So a long and completely exhausting day. I told the Bear the full saga when he called to check in last night; he said he was sorry I'd had such a sh***y day. I had to disagree. I was weary, sore, and had been near tears a few times in the course of it, but the day wasn't bad. Some of the best advice I've had in this season came from Shannon down the street. She's told me many times, it's all about the moments. Whether the kids have been throwing tantrums, picking fights, being careless or outright defiant, at some point they smile, or show you some new skill, or put their toy away, or give a hug to the playmate who got hurt, and you love 'em all over again. To tally the whole day as a lump sum is to lose the value of those precious moments.
My day ended with a few of those moments. I'd given in at some point and found something reasonably family friendly on the idiot box to entertain us. At the end of the movie there was a boppy dance tune while the credits rolled, and Trin was givin' her all to the music. I let her dance to the end of the credits before swinging her up to bed with a smile on her face. And along with a few ticklish giggles as I changed him out of his drool soaked clothes and wiped his face, Eli finished his day with a long, comfortable, eyes-closed feeding.
Other days this week had their challenges for different reasons. Thursday was a day when lots of little things just didn't line up, and the anxiety was building. But I got to a fabric store and picked out some Eli-friendly (all cotton) fabrics for a couple of projects. It's fun to hope that I might just christen my sewing machine soon. And Friday, the isolation of motherhood had been getting to me, but every time I stepped out the door, to drop off the Trin, walk the dogs, pace with Eli or go to the store, there was someone else to have a little conversation with. Moments to get me through the day.
And today was a whole new day, with its own moments. The three of us got out to church this morning, and Trin was dancing in the aisles during worship. Eli had a nice little nap while Trin had lunch, and I got the kitchen under control. He fed and slept a bit again while I started this post, and then let me finish it one-handed. When Trin wakes up soon, I think we may even get out with the dogs. Trin's cold is getting better, and it even stopped raining.
So if you've got little ones and they're pushing your limits, take a deep breathe, hang in there and wait for that next moment. And when it comes, savor it.

Survival

2008-09-01T23:42:00.003-07:00

Yes, I'm still alive out here. It's been kinda hard for me to get a post out, though there's been no shortage of blogworthy action around here. I'd like to have posted about the three-day road trip home with two kids and two dogs, and a tribute to our old Siamese cat who sadly passed away, and about the absolute insanity that was the replacement of our floors. And that's not to mention all the little tales of everyday life with two under two.
But it's been hard to find the time to put them out there. Harder still to form the chaotic thoughts into something coherent to post. There are at least three abandoned drafts of posts, things I just couldn't seem to wrap up before I forgot what I was trying to say.
And what I'm trying to say, before I get lost again, is that a lot of things have been hard lately. Harder than I actually realized in the midst of it all, until it got a little ugly. Those who know me well know that I kinda went through the ringer after Tweetie was born. So this time I was on the watch for signs of depression, as were at least a couple of my good friends. I'd had some rough days, but not the seemingly endless weepy days and crying myself to sleep that I went through the first time, so I figured I was doing okay.
Turns out I was looking in the wrong place, and anxiety snuck up behind me. Building up until it let loose in some pretty self destructive behaviour. Looking back, it was there all along. But I was mostly busy keeping my head above water, putting one foot in front of the other on autopilot without keeping an eye on the shore. A few gulps of salt chuck made me realize a life jacket might be in order.
So, I gave in and spoke to the doc a few short weeks back, and I'm now adjusting to medicated life, riding out the 'break-in' period for the second antidepressant prescription we've tried. The side effects of the first were horrid, and we had to try something else. So far, I'd call the effects of the second tolerable, though there are lots of ups and downs at this point.

Yesterday at church, Darin, our pastor, opened his message with a question, one he said he'd be curious to hear people's personal answers to. What do you fear? He threw out some examples like the dark, or spiders, and went on to talk about the association in Jewish and other cultures at the time of the early church of bodies of water with the abyss, the unknown, and various fearful things. In my mind, the answer to his question was not precise, but yet pretty clear. Fear of failure - in many possible forms - as a mother. Darin highlighted a number of events in scripture, from Jesus calming the storm and walking on water, to Jonah being tossed overboard to save the ship, where the very fear and trembling around the water and its power and nature was what made the Lord's power and sovereignty evident. God was totally in control of that which they feared most.
That was something I needed to hear in a fresh way.

I'm not a perfect mom. Not by any measure, nor can I be. I will inevitably fail on some fronts, and likely even make a few horrible messes. But through God's grace, my kids will still come through alright, and more than that, I'll get it right far more often than I don't. Motherhood is hard - harder than I ever could have imagined. If it didn't make me anxious at all, there'd be something much bigger to worry about. Maybe this season will last many years, maybe things will shift in a few months. It doesn't really matter. For right now I think the meds are doing what they ought to. They take the edge off the anxiety, keeping things mostly below the boiling point, leaving me able to keeping giving my imperfect best to my marriage and family.

This and that

2008-07-29T13:48:00.002-07:00

For those of you waiting with bated breath since my last post, we're staying put. I think we've now talked to all three of my regular readers, and so I don't need to go into details on why. Just know the Bear is taking whatever project work he finds and pounding the virtual pavement.

Eli and I both got a clean checkout from our maternity doc last week. At seven weeks four days he weighed 14 lbs 1.5 oz. For those who love statistics and comparison, he was 95th percentile for weight, 90th for head size, and off the charts for length. I actually missed the doc's length measurement, but the week before I measured him down at the health unit and he was 62 cm.

Yesterday I had one of those moments where some fact that you know already just becomes so incredibly obvious that it jumps up and slaps you in the face. I was nursing Eli. His body was cradled against my left arm, and his legs were draped over my right leg. I looked down at the real estate he was covering and was duly impressed. He's huge!!

And on the topic of large heads, I got a good chuckle this morning when Trin picked up a hat that the Bear's step dad had left on the table. It fit her perfectly, as did two other of Larry's hats that she found.

Tweetie is learning all sorts of things these days and it's fascinating to watch. She understands more and more of the things we tell her. Sometimes she even does what we ask ;) Sometimes she's surprisingly clever, or sneaky. Like after breakfast when I asked her to turn around so I could wash her face. She promptly complied, turning around and giving me a sly smile as she passed and completed a full 360 to face away again.

She loves to climb, and run and explore. She's getting more creative at finding ways to express herself. When she gets hurt, which happens a lot when you combine the earlier mentioned loves with a body that keeps changing, she's more able to let us know what hurts, which is helpful when it's not so obvious as a bloody knee. And recently she has her own special variation on magic kisses. She'll offer a finger on each hand to be kissed better, and then plant the kiss appropriately herself.

But just now, before I came down to check on Eli and finish this post, she melted my heart as only your own child can do. We're at Grandma's right now in the Kootenays, and there are lots of doors here. Trin likes to open and close doors, so I've had to bolt the front door at times and keep an eye on her around other doors. The way a few of the doors are hung, they also tend to slam rather loudly in the hands of a not quite two year old, which I've been trying to discourage. Now, the Bear had come up and made his coffee, so I was going to head down and leave Trin with him. On opening the door to the stairs, Trin was right there wanting to follow me (she was giving a much more detailed explanation in her own language, but I'm not that fluent yet). I knelt down to explain that I was going downstairs to wait for her brother to wake up, but that if she came down with me, he'd be awake much sooner and that wasn't necessarily what I wanted. I think she was mostly listening, because her next move was to close the door for me. I was still squatting in the doorway, however, so the door was stopped by my knee. It didn't actually hurt - she hadn't built any momentum to the swing, yet, but I thought this was a good opportunity to reinforce what we'd been working on with closing doors gently, and watching for other people or animals.
"Ow, that's my knee, Trin."
She pulled the door back fully open, stepped toward me, grasped my leg, bent over and kissed my knee better.
Awwwwww,

A change in direction

2008-07-05T07:39:00.006-07:00

The compass is pointing north for us. Okay, the compass needle, if it's working, always points to magnetic north. So, let's just say that if we turn and face down the only path that seems to go anywhere, we'd be facing roughly north-northwest.

Some of you know it's been a dry winter for us. Well, except for the flood in the upstairs bathroom, which made everything below it rather wet. But as far as the Bear's work and the company, the things that we were expecting to take us through the winter just dried up. So between whatever small jobs came up here and there, and doing some major sorting and purging of all our stuff - a very good thing if you need to know - the Bear has been pounding the virtual pavement looking for steady work close to home. Some really exciting possibilities came up along the way, and he proved himself very adept at jumping through whatever hoops people put up for him, but every time there's been some kind of roadblock at the end.
And now, finally, it looks like there's an open door for us. The Bear has a job offer up north. It's a good job. It would be a stretch for the Bear, with a steep learning curve, which makes him nervous, but I think he could pull it off. It's also a long way from what has really started to feel like home, and we're struggling to come to grips with all that entails, and to determine if this is going to be a good move for us.
The north has been on our radar for quite awhile now, due mostly to our connections with the Badger and Goddess, and the contract work the Bear has done up there over the last couple of years. And I've been open to relocating, at least in theory. But there's a lot involved for us, especially now that we've got two kids to take along. I'm just longing for some sense that this is truly where we're supposed to go. That we're not simply trading my good job here - which I'd be back to in a year - for a potentially good job up there for the Bear.
I talked to my managers this past week about taking an additional year's leave after my maternity leave, so that we'd have enough time to give the new job and northern life a fair shot. I'd hoped for some clear sign from that, but things went very predictably: they'll look into it and start the process. We'll be waiting on that still, as neither the Bear nor I are comfortable cutting ties with my employer without some much clearer sign that this is more than another detour.
I also have to consider what life will be like up there when I'm home with the kids. Things have so far gone far more smoothly with the second baby than they did the first time around. Some of that is simply due to some seasoning on my part - I've been there, done that. But a lot of it is also the network I've begun to build up of moms, and some of the little things that are available nearby here. Wonderful daycare just down the street. Clinic, groceries, pharmacy, a number of parks and playgrounds plus other distractions, all within walking distance. All that of course really translates to 'something to do to get out of the house with the kids and keep from losing my mind.' The lack of certain conveniences I think I can adjust to. But I'm wary of circumstances that might make me susceptible to post partum depression again, when things have gone so well so far this time.
Now I should be very clear here. I don't see heading north as all negative, or just a great sacrifice for a job. One thing I especially look forward to is regular face time with the Goddess. We've swapped so many e-mails over the last few years that included wishes that we could just get together over a cuppa. And I smile every time I do another of those blasted Likeness quizzes on crackbook and the Goddess again gets the highest match score with me.
I've also often thought it would be good for our kids to spend at least some of their growing up years outside the mainstream homogenized city life, to know first hand that there's something else. And to be exposed to a different culture than our own, simply so that 'different' becomes quite normal to them and they look beyond that to the individual people.
And I think there is something to be said for the slower pace of northern life - though I'll admit it may take me a bit to throttle back. So we shall see. We'll be heading up later this week for a few days to allow me to check things out and evaluate whether we can make this work. Officially, the Bear's acceptance is contingent on my giving the OK.

A final note:
This has been a hard post to get out. Initially, it was just finding the time to start it. But once I started, I rattled off a few paragraphs, and quickly got to a point where I wasn't completely sure where my heart was at. Or the thoughts on some aspect weren't complete and I couldn't put together a balanced picture. I'd come back to it in the morning, or the end of the day, write a bit more and get lost again. And some of that is ongoing, but I think it's helped push me through the process and define what is really important for me as we look at heading up there and eventually making final decisions.

I'll keep you posted.

pictures

2008-06-25T10:17:00.004-07:00

Here are a few pics for you visual types. Some would have gone with the last post if I'd been that coordinated, and some are just cuz (do I really need an excuse with a big gorgeous 4 week old boy?) One thing I missed in my last post was that Shannon will tell me I look great. Without qualification. Now I know that I faired pretty well through my pregnancy and even now I look decent for less than a month after delivery. But reality is I'm less than four weeks post partum, and it's nice to hear just "You look great" without the "for x weeks/months pregnant/postpartum." I realized this weekend at my mom's that it's probably a good thing we're rather short on proper mirrors in this house. Yeesh! Rest assured the pics here will include no belly shots. Just enjoy these.

This is our friend Amanda, working on the tile around the tub.

This is the picture Jack took of Tweetie and Sylvester. I should say, though, that Sylvester's hair is growing fast and yesterday I noticed little sideburns coming in, so he might just become Elvis.

This one was taken awhile ago on my lap. Okay, only a week ago, but that's a long time in his life!

This picture of contentment was taken shortly after he finished his last feed Sunday night at my mom's.

And just because we still have critters, and they're still cute, too...

Takin' it easy

2008-06-19T14:08:00.003-07:00

One of the big jokes in my mind as I look back on the early days with baby one was how often a list of 'shoulds' and 'ought tos' for the new mother was wrapped up with a 'and get lots of rest,' or 'take care of yourself.' Or how that well-intentioned advice came on its own, with no suggestions or offer of help to make that elusive goal more attainable.
Well, this time around has been different, marvellously. Of course, it helps when you're not a total greenhorn and you don't panic and lose sleep over every little thing. But even more so, it helps to have some good friends around you. And I have several, and it's been so much easier to take it easy, thanks to them.
The first of these here in town is right down the street. Shannon, who looks after Tweetie during the week, is only seven houses away. Whatever time I manage to get things together and wander down the block (and with T, I do mean wander), she's there. And she practically dares me to show up in my pyjamas or housecoat if that would make life easier. Sometimes just knowing that I could is nice. (And yes, in the ten months she's been watching T, there've been a few times I've arrived wearing my pyjama pants or the t-shirt I slept in.) Since I've been on leave, I've probably averaged at least an hour hanging out there in the mornings. Since Eli was born, it's often been a case of keeping him occupied in the sling until I can get T ready and out the door, so he gets fed at daycare. We're cutting back to twice a week at daycare soon, so I'll miss that, but I have an open invitation to visit.
The second also comes through the daycare connection. Amanda, one of the other moms there, has been another blessing. For a good part of the year, she's kept T in high fashion, as she worked at a local community center and would scope out the surplus donations for Tweetie-wear on a regular basis. She also gave me enough baby boy clothes to keep Eli pretty much covered for the first year! She's also working on becoming a registered doula, and as Eli's arrival loomed larger (look back at those last pregnant pictures to see just how large) she offered to attend the birth, and over the last few weeks before and after checked in on me and kept tabs on how things were going. Vince was glad again to have some backup at the delivery and someone to keep him calm, though he once more did an awesome job as my coach. And as an extra special post partum treat, Amanda stepped up, when Vince had to head out of town again, to tackle the tile in the bathroom so I could get back to having baths (almost there ... but that's another post).
And last, but never least, on the first Saturday that Vince was away, our good friends Jack and Jem, who had reason to be down at the coast, hopped the ferry to come over and bless me (read: spoil me rotten). And I, being a second-time mom and therefore able to fully appreciate such things, let them. They came over in their truck and stopped en route for lunch materials. Made lunch when they got here, cleared my kitchen table (a significant feat in itself) for us to eat at. Brought me drinks on the couch as I fed Eli. Put away the clean dishes in the dishwasher, and loaded everything up from lunch. Washed the frying pans in the sink. Wrapped up the leftovers. Brought gifts for T and Eli. And picked up take out and shared dinner with me before heading back to the mainland. A wonderful first day 'alone' with both kids. And made Sunday, which was a little hairy with T, much more bearable. Now I just need them to send me a copy of that pic they took with T beside Eli in his bucket seat.

May I present...

2008-06-06T13:24:00.004-07:00

It's taken a bit, but I finally have some pictures I can put up of our little man. He's had a pretty good first week, and by all indications so far, he's gonna be a sweetheart like his big sister. He gives me a bit of a longer stretch at night, all on his own, feeds well, good color.
He had his first check up with the doc yesterday, and in her words, he's perfect. At least medically speaking. Of course, I think he's pretty close to perfect all around. He's stirring a bit in his little laundry bassinet, so I'll throw up some pics here and get on to him.

The weigh-in

All checked out

Hello, there

Mmmm...that's good stuff

Hallelujah!

2008-06-03T12:12:00.003-07:00

I'm sitting on my bed with a cup of tea behind me (the cookies are gone), my laptop on my knees, and a gorgeous new little man sleeping off a good milk buzz at my side. I'm exhausted, but life is good. There are many things on my heart to share, but I don't know how far I'll get, so I'll start with the basics.

At 8:48 pm on Friday, May 30, after a fast and furious labour, our long awaited son, Eliakim Hunter, was born. He measured up a healthy 57 cm long, with a hat size of 36.5 cm (that's 22.4 inches and 14.4 inches for the imperialists). And he weighed in at ... wait for it ... 5224 grams or eleven and a half pounds! A few of you may have heard the early report of 11 lbs 3 oz, which was either misheard or miscalculated in the chaos of the delivery room, but when I double-checked the conversion this morning, the three turned out to be eight.
There was lots of extra attention in the delivery room, as I had just that morning been in for an ultrasound and the technician had estimated the size from the measurements there at 12 lbs 3 oz - the largest he'd ever seen. (Apparently we left before they could do the non-stress test. They seemed short on staff and the tech said that was it - I claim it was the shock of that prognosis that sent us running.) There are some extra risks with such big babies, so they had the obstetrician in attendance and an extra nurse or two. I wasn't paying much attention to such things (somewhat otherwise engaged) but I imagine there may have been a few extra bodies hovering nearby as I'd been the buzz of the hospital all day.
In the end it all went as well as could possibly be expected. A bare two and a half hours from the start of regular, serious contractions (during which I went to Thrifty's for milk and alfredo sauce - silly woman). That's the part where most moms in the readership declare their hatred for me. But then it was a good four and a half hours after delivery, parts of which were nearly as brutal as labour itself, before they decreed I was stable enough to be transferred to the mom and babe ward.
Eli came through with flying colours. Passed his blood sugar tests. showed no sign of nerve damage in the shoulder or other trauma. He even came out looking fairly human - in a five month old newborn sort of way.
The best part by far for me - better even than getting tubes out of me, or the end of assaults on my battered belly to assess bleeding - was having the two of us work out the whole nursing arrangement. I was able to get Eli latched on fairly early, and now that my milk is in, he's nursing up a storm. After all the trials we went through with our daughter, that little triumph raised a whole chorus of Hallelujahs and Amens in my heart.
Well, this has taken most of the day to write, so I think I'll end on that shining note, but stay tuned for more.

Place your bets

2008-05-29T16:00:00.005-07:00

Last chance, folks. Place your bets now, while there's still time. Sylvester has yet to show his lovely little face, so I want to solicit a few good guesses as to just how big he's going to be. I'm eight days past due at this point, I've got an acupuncture appointment this afternoon, and a non-stress test tomorrow morning. (Some of you may know that I tried acupuncture when we were expecting T and she came the next day, without the need for the scheduled induction).
So, for a few hints, and a view of some of the fun we've had while waiting, here are some pics.

First, the classic profile shot for your betting insight.

Here's a shot of what we put on my belly earlier today. I roughed it out in the mirror and Vince filled it in with the henna paste.

A close up.

And a little design on my hand.

A couple of other hints: Tweetie weighed in at 9 pounds 12 ounces, and she was my first, a girl, and didn't register as being particularly big at the ultrasound, unlike Sylvester.

Anticipation

2008-05-17T13:35:00.003-07:00

I've had a post rolling around in my head since I started my leave back in the last week of April. I've even started typing it out a time or two, but it seems things keep moving before I have the chance to really put anything out.
But we're closing in on the inevitable day of Sylvester's arrival, and it may be even longer after that before I get to posting much so I'm going to do my best to get something out before another day escapes.

Officially, we're now just 4 days away from Sylvester's due date. I suspect he'll be taking his time like his big sister did. Had a checkup yesterday and his head's still pretty high up and he's swimming around. Apparently, I provide a pretty comfy residence for a little life form.
For some time now, I've been getting the supportive comments from those around me that they hope he comes soon, or I'm almost there. I appreciate the sentiment, but the reality is, I have a somewhat different perspective. Apart from the fact that he'll keep growing - and we all know what that means when the day actually comes - I'm not in a big rush to get him out.
You see, for me at least, pregnancy is the easy part. Yes, I'm tired, and it's frustrating at times being limited in what I can do. But I also know what's coming. When we were awaiting Tweetie's arrival, my biggest worry was not labour and delivery, but how I'd make out with caring for her after she arrived. I'd done some reading, but I knew that real life is rather more, well, real. And, as I'd expected, it was tough. In fact, harder than even I had imagined. I remember sharing with a colleague that I caught up with in those first weeks that this was the hardest thing I had ever done. (I was also comforted to hear that she'd felt pretty much the same with her own two girls.)
This time, of course, it's no longer a fear of the unknown. I know what's coming. And I know a whole lot more than I did the first time around, by which I hope to make at least some things easier. But I've also got a toddler to keep track of, nurture, love and nourish. I don't fear 'not having enough love', as I've heard it expressed by others. But I do fear not having enough time, maybe not enough sanity to express that love. Honestly, with the ups and downs and especially post-partum depression, the first round was almost the end of me, though ironically it was the same little life at the center of all that that kept me hanging on.
And there's a quiet part in my soul that's terrified of how I'll get through this time. I know God's grace will be with us again, as always, and we've got some marvelous friends lifting us up in prayer. But, as long as Sylvester's happy and healthy in there, I'm content to wait a little longer to start this next adventure. And if we can get just a little further on things like bathroom renos, that's a bonus.

Message in a bawbuh

2008-05-07T12:56:00.003-07:00

It's been awhile since I did any bragging here about my firstborn. Alright, it's been awhile since I posted anything here, but since Tweety's spotlight is likely to be redirected somewhat to her little brother very shortly, I'll take this chance to update y'all.
Well, first and foremost, she's pretty healthy these days. She had her last round of shots last week, which set her up with a bit of a cold again for a few days, but she came through that pretty quick. Hooray! (throw your hands up, now, just like we do on the H page of Dr. Seuss' ABC)
On the tougher side, she's been starting to exert her little personality a lot more over the last couple of months. Which has meant a little more wear and tear on dear old mom, especially since, like most little ones, she always saves the best for me. (Apparently her alter ego shows up at about the same time I do every afternoon at daycare.) Everything from relatively minor whining and defiance to all out screaming tantrums. Thankfully, I'm getting a little better at discerning the variations and finding constructive ways of handling them. The Bear's been valuable in helping me keep my perspective, set good boundaries and hang in there when I'm worn out.
Thankfully, she seems to be settling down again for now, and has generally been in a great mood the last few days. I'm not so naive as to think we're all done with the whole 'twos' scenario before she's even reached the official milestone, especially with a new brother joining the family any time now. But having come through round one, I feel a bit more positive about my ability to deal with the inevitable future waves.
On the fun side, Tweety's been taking great interest in clothing lately, possibly encouraged by all the stylin' freebies she's been getting from one of the other daycare moms. If I pick out something in the morning that she likes, she gets a big grin on her face and bounces around while eagerly pointing arms and legs in the general direction of the appropriate holes. She likes to practice putting things on herself, too. She's managed to put her jacket on all by herself a few times, though not nearly so many times as she's tried. I even had witnesses the first time. As I tried to call her over so I could help her get the other arm in, she squirmed and poked and pushed her arm through the twisted sleeve, and we were all a little stunned. She still needs me for zippers, though ;)
She's also been expanding her little vocabulary, and is starting to mimic a lot. You can tell, too, that her understanding of words is getting much greater, too. Among some of her favourites are bubbles ('buhboohz'), juice('djoos'), shoes ('shoos'), apple ('ahhpuh'), banana ('nana'). Various others come up occasionally, and then there's the one offs where she'll repeat what you say when you say it, but not use the word again.
She also continues to enjoy just about any music with a clear beat. She picked up on some B-52s songs that Shannon played one day at daycare, and when I mentioned that to the Bear, he loaded the whole B-52s anthology onto his iPod and it goes on whenever we go in the car. She provides great entertainment in the back seat, bobbing her head to the beat and waving her arms.
It's amusing to see the dots being connected sometimes. I had the radio on over the weekend and the song 'Message in a bottle' came on by the Police. She was moving around to the music, and when it came to the chorus, she kinda hesitated and started saying 'bawbuh' - her word for bottle. I haven't yet noticed her looking in her bottles for anything but tasty liquids, but I wonder sometimes.

Mama likes it!

2008-03-30T13:40:00.003-07:00

Well, the renovation train chugs onward. The Bear has now insulated the attic space behind the bathroom & master bedroom. All the lathe and plaster (both walls and ceilings) in the bathroom has been pulled out and cleaned up. The old tub and sink hauled to the backyard, and the toilet sits on the back deck until it has a floor to go back to. All the walls and ceiling have been insulated and vapor barriers installed and sealed and aquaboard was installed on the ceiling (that was a tricky job!) and a section of the interior wall.
The old wood floors have all been pulled up, some gaps and weak spots in the subfloor properly repaired, and a layer of new plywood laid down overall as a solid base for new floors. The plumbers were in about a week ago to replace and repair the patchwork that was the waste system, and give the Bear a few pointers on the remaining work. And the Bear fashioned some steel reinforcements for the joists that had been hacked up by previous owners to accommodate some tight plumbing (ach...who needs stable floor structures, it's not like a bathtub is heavy or anything).
Much of the kitchen ceiling is now sealed up again, awaiting new drywall after the plumbing inspection. And least there are no more construction bits dropping down on the counters.
The Bear's biggest triumph was finding a way to fit all the required fittings for the tub into the very small space above the tub that was not an outside wall, without looking like a big mess. We dubbed the result the Seussaphone, for fairly obvious reasons.

On Friday, the big event was scheduled. (Well, actually, it was originally scheduled for Thursday, but the plumbers had to postpone.) Everything was ready for the plumbers to tie in Vince's work, pressure test, and bring in the tub. The tub is kind of the keystone for the bathroom, as it has to go in before the walls can be closed and the tiles laid. And the floor tiles need to go in before the toilet and vanity go in, and the walls closed and finished before the tub fixtures.
We knew already that it would be a tough task to fit the six foot tub in the six foot bathroom. I was eager to get home at the end of the day and hear how it went. This is what I saw when I came in the door and looked up the stairs.

The plumbers had arrived about 10. Sadly, after several hours of contortions and sweat as they tried to manouevre the tub into place, they brought it back down the stairs. And out came all the insulation, the vapor barrier, and the one section of drywall on the sidewall backing on to the stairs. And then out came the sawsall and a large section of the wall. And finally, the tub went back up the stairs, through the new 'entrance' and into place. It was three by the time the plumbers went home.

Twenty-four hours later, we drained the tub. And last night, after Tweetie was tucked in, Mama swept up the floor one more time and took the tub for a trial run.
Mmmmm. Nice and deep, long, and comfy. Mama likes it. The Bear likes it, too - he tested it, too. I'm sure Tweetie will like it, too, but she won't get to try it until the rest of the room's a bit more splash proof ;)

Smart Cookie

2008-03-24T14:40:00.002-07:00

Our friend Tex over at the Maru likes to tell tales of the amazing perceptive and manipulative powers of his daughter, now three. I always enjoy reading these anecdotes, in part because Tex tells a great story, but also very much because I so often see parallels in our little Tweetie.
Tweetie's first night in her big bed went quite well. She slept through and I was there to help her up when she awoke this morning. We'd spent a good part of the morning grazing, as we continue to encourage her to eat lots and get some variety. I'd taken her out for a little stroll up and down the block, and it was apparent that naptime was fast approaching. The fuss factor was climbing rapidly. I'd made her a smoothie and gave her a sandwich before our walk; she finished the last bites as we wandered. Having a pretty good sense that she might still (or again) be hungry, I refilled her smoothie when we got home and grabbed a cookie for upstairs before naptime. The smoothie was gone like lightning. And then I offered her the cookie, which she apparently took in exchange for another display of her subtle cunning.
She knew naptime was coming, eventually. Somehow she picked up that I wasn't going to put her into her bed until she was done with the crumbly cookie. The first half of the cookie disappeared almost immediately, just like the smoothie. Then she munched away as she made her rounds around her newly arranged room furnishings. Having about a quarter of the cookie left in a crescent shape, she popped the remnant in her mouth. "All done? Good job!" I readied myself to clean her up and settle her into bed.
At which point she pushed the cookie around in her mouth for proper alignment, opened said mouth, bit the cookie remnant in half, and took half back out into her fingers. Over the next 10 or 15 minutes (remember the first part - three times the size - went down in about two), she proceeded to nibble very slowly at that remnant, taking ever smaller bites - pretty much half of what was left each time - and taking at least one lap around the room between each bite. She was always careful to make it clear there was still some cookie left in her little hand.
Finally the last crumb went in the mouth, which grew a rather smug smile. "Alright. Into bed with you." I herded her over to the open end of the bed, and gave her a chance to try climbing in on her own. A bit of a boost and she was on the bed. Sitting right beside the opening, toes still poking out, and making no motions toward a cozy dozing position. Not willing to start this game over again, I picked her up and settled her into the middle of the bed to great protest. I helped pull the bunched blankets out of the way and tucked her in. The protests died out quickly as she nodded off. I was right. She was in dire need of a nap. But she did put up a very calculated, and successful, resistance.

Room for two

2008-03-23T16:04:00.003-07:00

I know it's now Easter Sunday, but as it often happens, there just wasn't the time and energy left on Friday to output the post that was in my head at the time.
Apart from the traditional reasons for celebrating Good Friday, this past Friday was very good for me for two more reasons. Firstly, I got to take a load off my mind. Through all the craziness of the past month or two, one thing in particular had been persistently nagging at me. We bought a new bed for Tweetie awhile back, must've been late January or early February. The intent was to transition Tweetie to sleeping in a bed well ahead of the arrival of her little brother Sylvester, (hmmm... the nicknames paint an amusing mental picture of the cat in the cage while the bird lounges in the open bed). As sickness and household upheaval ate up the weeks, I saw that transition window getting smaller and smaller.
And there was that basic logistical challenge of rearranging a nursery. As the working mother of a toddler, much of my time at home is taken up with her care and feeding and the things you can do in the next room or shot windows when she's otherwise occupied. The only guaranteed time when my hands are free to do some 'real work' is when she's sleeping. And moving the furniture around when she's in it wouldn't likely do much for either the length or quality of her naps.
This week was spring break, and daycare was closed, so I had arranged to have Tweetie stay on the mainland with my mom and sister for a few days so I could stay at work. And while a little more time than I had anticipated went to some necessary assistance with planning and working on the bathroom, by the time I went to bed Thursday night, I had half the old shelves with their contents disassembled and taken downstairs, the crib tucked in where the shelves had been, and the new bed assembled and in place. By the middle of the day on Friday, I was able to look around and say to myself, "It's ready." All the stuff had a place, hidden corners had been cleaned of spots and spills, and there was now room for two. Even some better space for playing in the middle of the room. I could put theoretically put Tweetie to bed in a place she could get out of on her own and not worry about her being in mortal danger from the things within reach. There'll be a little more sorting and shuffling to come, making room for two sets of clothes and toys, but it's one big stressor removed. A good Friday.
And with that all taken care of, I was free to look forward to the best part of the day - heading off to the mainland to get my Tweetie. The plan had been to do the foot passenger loop on the ferry and just meet my mom on the other side to avoid the cost of taking the car, but we opted to go a little later and stay the night, in order to spend an exciting (add an extra helping of sarcasm dripping off that last word as you read it) Saturday looking for plumbing fixtures so the plumber who's coming this week can install the tub for us.
It was great to see that Tweetie had continued to put on weight while she was away from her Mama, thanks to some grandparental spoiling by her Mor-mor and Auntie. I think I heard something about ice cream before bed every night. Apart from some crankiness that seems to accompany coming home to Mama and her rules, she's healthy and happy.
Of course, the successful rearrangement of the nursery opens the door for the next big thing - the transition to a bed. I'm happy to say that's going fairly well, so far. We got in rather late last night, so she slept in her crib last night. I thought it best to give her a chance to get used to the room a little first. But she played on her bed a bit this morning, and took her first nap in the big bed today. I wrote the first part of this post while waiting for her to wake up this afternoon. And as I wrap up, she's in her bed, though far from asleep. Being her first night, I'm hanging out in the room with her 'til I know she's fully asleep. (It might also have a little to do with the big comfy chair being in her room, and not fitting outside the door. The next stage, tucking her, leaving the room, but watching from just beyond her view, will be done in the much smaller director's chair). She's being fairly compliant with the rule of keeping her head down. I had to help her out with it, laying her down when she sat up or tried to crawl to the side of the bed, in the early going, but she's mostly keeping her head down and just rolling around at this point, and if she pokes her head up, it takes only a word or two to let her know I'm still watching, and she puts her head back down.
So perhaps we'll have another milestone covered soon, and I'll have yet one less thing to worry about, though no doubt I'll find something else.

Moving ahead

2008-03-13T10:13:00.000-07:00

I figured I really ought to post an update to follow up on my last post.

I'll start with a few little things. Both vehicles came home in working order on Monday. The turbo on the car (times two) was fully covered under warranty, as was the blown seal on the truck. The bag I'd left on the bus was all in good order at Transit's lost and found on Sunday. The house appraisal which was done earlier in that crazy week - before the flood - came back at 20k above where we needed it to be. Which is, by the way, a completely new experience for me, as every appraisal we've ever had done for any house came back to exactly the number that was required to put things through, even if it was worth more. I'd truly come to believe their job was simply to validate the number you asked for, as opposed to coming up with a real appraisal.
Tweetie is not quite back to a hundred percent, but she's doing much better. I took her in on the Monday following the flood, as her cough seemed to only get worse and she wasn't sleeping or eating much. The doc found her ear was still a little irritated, and as I'd suspected by then, the cough had gotten into one of her lungs. Pneumonia. She was given a different antibiotic, and stayed at home for another full week. She responded well to the meds, coughing a little less and sleeping a little better each day. Her appetite took longer to come back, and I must say looking at her by the end of the week was heart-breaking. I estimate she lost close to a third of her body weight. She's been back at daycare this week, and between me and our daycare provider, we're working hard to fatten her up again ;) We've a ways to go, but it's starting to work.
I had a checkup myself on the Tuesday, and despite the deep coughing and related side effects, there were no signs of infection, and the doc said I was actually one of the healthiest moms to be on the days schedule. Obstetrically speaking, anyway. With a little help from the cough syrup at night, the cough has slowly diminished to an occasional tickle, and my sore muscles have recovered as much as they can in a woman nearly 7 months pregnant. Unfortunately Vince, who suffered just a couple of days with us at the start of the cold, has been hit a little harder this week, but I think it's starting to ease again a bit.

And then there's the house. Much has been happening on that front, due almost entirely to the Bear's efforts. We're still waiting on the details of what will be covered on the insurance, but we've been pushing ahead with some of the plumbing and other issues that were a little more visible (and accessible) with the tear down of the kitchen ceiling. I've taken some pictures along the way, but they'll have to wait for another post, as I'm already sitting in bed and the camera's elsewhere. The bear started by running new lines for hot and cold water to the upstairs bathroom, which soon led to replacing all the source lines in the house, as every time he looked he discovered more disasters that could have been. We now have manifolds for all the lines, so washing your hands in one bathroom won't result in burns to the person taking a shower in the other. The upstairs bathroom itself has been completely gutted. Totally. Past the all the plaster, much of the lathe, and down to the studs.
Which exposed a few other things, including a birds nest and three wasps nests, and a complete lack of insulation in the top floor.
We have a new tub on order, which the Bear will pick up on the mainland on Monday. Over the next day or so, he'll be ripping up the old floor up there and putting in a new subfloor to support tiles. We'll have a plumber come in to plumb the new vanity (which has actually been sitting in the basement for over a year). Once the tub's in place we can do the tile on the floor, and at least some of the work for the walls. We'll have to wait for the replacement window before the wall tiles can be finished. But it will be done right, and the biggest liability in the house will have become a feature.
The bear's task today was to pull the ceiling down in the kitchen below the unused attic space, and putting in proper insulation where there was previously none.
As I mentioned, we've yet to hear any specifics on how much the insurance will cover, but there are a few things that might turn out really nice. One big one is the floor on the main level, where the kitchen is. This is almost certainly the original floor, as evidenced by details like square nails holding the boards. There's not much left of it after ninety plus years. Certainly not enough to refinish. But nonetheless there was some damage sustained with all that water, from loosened nails, to deteriorated fill and softened, warped boards. But most of the main level is the same floor, and with so little floor left, the restoration folks also told us it would be very hard to make a transition between a replaced area and the rest. So there's a possibility we'll get new flooring for the whole floor.
One area of the kitchen cabinets was quite badly flooded, and there's some possibility of that being at least partly covered by insurance as well. A number of items from the basement will need to be replaced. Much of our camping gear, including a tent that had the bug screen torn by a friend's young dog the first time took it out, and some good sleeping bags that have spent far too much time stuff tightly in their travel sacks instead of airing out. Some computers were damaged that weren't currently running, but will have to be replaced with the closest equivalent current technology.
It's funny when I think about it. When you're in the middle of things like this you think the timing couldn't be worse. But if it had happened any sooner, we may not have been able to refinance. And I wouldn't have wanted it to happen any later, as my capacity to help the Bear with any of these jobs is only getting smaller as my due date looms larger. Even the fact that we were fighting illness had some benefit, as Tweetie was asleep a lot and I was home and able to step in here and there to help the Bear. It's been crazy, and that continues, but things do seem to be working out for the good overall.

When it rains, it pours

2008-02-29T15:16:00.006-08:00

It's been one of those weeks. Last week Tweetie got another cold which quickly escalated into fever and another ear infection, peaking out at the start of this week with a bout of pinkeye.
The intermittent suspicious noise in the car we'd been trying tp isolate became suddenly persistent and obvious, and the mechanic confirmed Friday the turbo was gone and we'd be without a car this week.
Monday, the Bear heard back from a previously promising job prospect that he was suddenly overqualified. And my cold, a kind gift from Tweetie, evolved into a nasty cough.
Tuesday was merely a little chaotic as we got a call from our mortgage broker that an assessor would be by in the evening, so we were scrambling through the day (between tending to our ailing little one) to sort the chaos out so we'd have half a chance of getting the number we needed for refinancing.
Wednesday I went back to work for half a day - split shift with the Bear on Tweetie care - and left my bag on the bus on the way home. Tweetie slept a LOT that day, and I was hopeful she was almost done with the battle.
Thursday, another half-day at work, but Tweetie's fever was spiking again. And they were still working on the car, but we needed one for Friday, so we arranged a loaner and had to zip down to pick it up.
Friday. The lovely finish on this fine week. Tweetie was still coughing and running a fever on and off. The Bear had an appointment to get the brakes fixed on the truck, so we got Tweetie out of bed instead of letting her sleep as we'd done all week. I followed the truck in the loaner car and then the Bear dropped me off at work and continued. The Bear went home to feed Tweetie, who was now fighting some rather explosive diarrhea. He cleaned her up and put her on the pottie, and then headed out with her to finish up some errands. He came home awhile later to find a waterfall in the kitchen. I got the call at work, and all I knew was there was 'water everywhere'. A colleague gave me a ride home and I ran in to see what I could do.
Park T in her chair and grab a mop. Eventually we got upstairs to actually figure out what happened. Tweetie had flushed the upstairs toilet after pottie, just before they left. The toilet had backed up, but the tank apparently kept flowing. And flowing. Through the bathroom floor and all over the kitchen. Filling the drawers and flowing across the kitchen floor before dripping through to spray all over the stuff in the basement.
The Bear's favourite question to throw at unsuspecting folks yesterday afternoon was, "Is it supposed to rain inside the house?" At some point this morning, I had considered changing the title of this post to, "My bowl runneth over," but I thought that might be in poor taste. So I buried it in the middle of the post for a little levity ;)
Our insurance folks were quite responsive, and we had a team there soon to look things over and start the cleanup. Somewhere in that we got a call that the car was ready, so once things were started and Tweetie down for a nap, he went off to pick up the car. I got another call awhile later - the car was still making noise, so they wanted the Bear to stick around while they looked into it. When he eventually got home later, he was back in the loaner. Apparently the new turbo lasted about a block before it blew up, too.
And the truck? They found a blown oil seal and won't have parts 'til next week. Not that we'd have had time to pick it up. When the crew was gone and we'd finished eating take-out off those dishes that had remained clean, and I'd given T another steam bath to calm her cough, I needed to get to the drugstore before they closed for some cough medicine for myself. I'd cleared it with the doc by phone in the afternoon. Packed Tweetie up, except for missing shoes, and walked out to the loaner to discover another little hitch. When he went to pick up our car earlier, the Bear had transferred everything back to our car from the loaner, but in the rush to get back home after the car repairs went sideways, he didn't transfer them back. No car seat. Also no blanket (borrowed from the crib in the morning when T was still mostly asleep), or diaper bag, as I later figured out. So back into the house, I dropped T in her crib and zipped off to Shopper's to grab the meds and an cold patch for my shoulder just as they were closing.
A little more cleaning, and off to bed.

It's Saturday now, and T's back in bed, and we're waiting around for the plumber who's supposed to come by and have an initial look at what needs doing to fix things properly. Once he's been by, we'll likely be heading out to look at some new fixtures for upstairs. There's a considerable hole cut out of our kitchen ceiling where the water was coming through, and we've got big industrial dehumidifiers running on all three affected areas. (Just as my doc was recommending running a humidifier in my room to help with the cough ;)

For the determined optimists, here are a few rays of sunshine. It is indeed sunny outside today, and I sat for a bit on the deck with Tweetie this morning. The flood disaster came after we had the appraisal done, so we didn't have to explain away the hole in the ceiling. Tweetie was perky and smiling for a bit this morning before she went back for her nap, and the pedialyte and milk she had have stayed down. Hooray! (You gotta put little pudgy hands in the air when you say that - just like she does) With the ceiling pulled back anyways, it looks like that much-needed upstairs bathroom reno that was postponed indefinitely due to budget constraints might happen after all, and the replacement vanity we bought on sale awhile back might come out of the basement. Maybe I'll get a tub I actually fit in :) And the plumbing related oddities may well get fixed right. And the basement floor hasn't been that clean for I don't know how long! Oh, yeah. And the Bear got a lead out of the blue (standing in line at the electronics parts store) on some possible work that could have him within walking distance (a definite improvement over a day's travel) through Sylvester's first few months.

I Remember This

2008-02-02T11:16:00.000-08:00

Sigh.
Our little Tweetie's been sick the last few days. Nothing terribly serious, just the way an average cold can knock a little one down to a place where all they want is to be held. The Bear was in Vancouver, so I've been off work the last couple of days looking after her. She's been fighting a fever, so the nights have been long, with regular checks on temperature and comfort sessions to soothe her until the meds kick in and she's able to go back to bed.
Thursday evening, she spat up a bit of bottle after a coughing fit. Just enough to slime both my hoodie and the shirt underneath through the open zip neck. I remember that smell. Yesterday, her first bottle went down slow, and shortly thereafter came back fast, with a full payload of mucous. A change of clothes for her was followed by a couple of rounds of mild diarrhea. Mild as in not shooting out of every crevice, but still messy enough on the one to make it simpler to just take her to the bath tub to peel off the layers and clean her up. Whereupon she backed her not yet hosed off backside into my pants. A change of clothes for both of us. This, too, seems familiar.
Last night, the fever was a little less persistent - she resisted taking any meds - but the coughing had kicked in full force. Which meant I saw every hour of the night until two, then four and six. And cleaned the floor up twice along the way.
She's slumped over my shoulder as I write this, mostly asleep with occasional quiver, squirm or cry. As her Mama, I'm happy to do whatever I can to comfort her, help her to rest and get over this bug. Happier still that just my presence is comfort to her. And my mind goes back to a little over a year ago when all of these 'challenges' were just a regular part of daily life caring for my very dependent little baby girl.
And then, of course, it goes forward a few months, when once again my life will revolve almost completely around the care of a little newborn. I remember this, and it doesn't scare me so much this time. I also remember the joys of first smiles and other little contacts. I look at how much has changed with Tweetie since those early days. And I hope, and pray, that I've learned a thing or two that will help a few things go smoother this time.
I'm also conscious of God's grace right now. I've been able to sleep a bit with her during the day, and my lower back, which has been very touch the last couple of weeks, has given me very little grief since Wednesday when I picked up Tweetie (it was particularly bad for most of that day at work). Grace, too, I remember, and I know it will be there, too.
It's all good.

A great start

2008-01-29T22:12:00.000-08:00

Those who've been reading here awhile know I'm not much for new year's resolutions. But that's not to say that if you find yourself inspired to try something, challenge yourself, or make changes, and it happens there's a fresh annual calendar on the wall, that you should stop in your tracks and wait for a better time.
And it's in that spirit that I find this year, about a month old now, is off to a great start in our home.
Now at this point I need to state right up front that I had very little to do with all this. I certainly didn't initiate it, or prompt it so far as I know. But one day, a scant few into the new year, I came home to find the Bear busily burrowing through the various heaps that tend to accumulate around our place. I at least had the good sense to jump in and do what I could to help with the project that evening, and Tweetie was cooperative in that she was content to entertain herself and watch the goings on around her without much fuss.
Momentum being what it is sometimes, the next day and the subsequent weekend saw ever more progress. The front hall was excavated, the heap on the kitchen counter next to the basement stairs was completely cleared off (the one or two of you who've been to our place might just remember, and cringe at, exactly what I'm talking about). The Bear, who'd been learning the ropes on bottle duty to give me a break while we were on vacation, took on the job at home. Between the two of us, the kitchen was getting a much more thorough cleanup each night before bed. And when he learned he was going to be at home for awhile, he took on morning duties with Tweetie, getting her up and ready for daycare so I could get off to work (and consequently back home) earlier. Tweetie has loved the one-on-one time with her Papa (formerly affectionately referred to as 'the man in the phone').
As the month has continued, the Bear's been busy down in the basement, tackling his great nemesis, the clutter in the lab. Box by box, shelf by shelf, he's picked through the piles and bins and stacks. He's sorted. He's purged. He's organized.
In the shop he's built a rock solid work bench out of the boards we removed from the deck last summer. There's a special shelf at one end to keep the drill press at a useful height.
And even with all that done, neither of us have completely dissolved into obsessed work nuts. We took Tweetie to the pool two Saturdays in a row. We've walked to the grocery store as a family (dogs, too!) We've both found ourselves a little less stressed and bothered having a simpler, cleaner space - my sleep seemed to improve with knowing I'd wake up to a fresh kitchen. But I think the family time, and the time spent with the Bear just doing everyday stuff, has been what I've most enjoyed. It's also been a source of encouragement as I look ahead to becoming a family of four.
Today the Bear left for the mainland to take on some roofing work with my brother-in-law. The work is welcome, both for the income and the chance for the Bear to get out of the house before he loses all steam on the home projects. But I've been spoiled a bit having him home this last while, and I think I'll be missing him just that little bit more.

Oh, brother!

2007-12-29T19:11:00.000-08:00

As I suggested a couple of posts ago, the second time around as an expectant mama is quite different. You're busy following the new developments of your first, and likely just trying to keep up. And there's a little less mystery. You've been through this before and much of what you're experiencing is at least somewhat familiar. And you know what's coming. Now and then you stop and try to remember. Did that come earlier this time? Or, that's a little different. But I, for one, am far less worried about little things, though, I think I was not so worried during pregnancy the first time as I was after Tweetie arrived.
When you're waiting for your first, you take in all the information you can get from books and websites, friends and strangers, hoping to prepare yourself. You listen to everyone's theories about whether boys are easier than girls or vice versa, their experiences and perspectives on everything from breastfeeding to setting up the nursery.
With the second, I've found the weeks and months slipping past. I'm only days away from the halfway marker in this pregnancy. Lots of things are different, and I have to wonder what other surprises are in store. Tweetie's been a sweetheart from the start, but being a mother is still the hardest job I've ever done. How will I handle the second, especially if this one's a little less considerate.
And for the last week and a half, I've had a new set of questions running through my mind. Like, how will raising a little boy be different from my little girl?

Yup, it's official. Tweetie's getting a little brother. I won't post the picture showing that equipment, though it's pretty unmistakable. You can see, however, from this shot of the little guy's profile (let's call him Sylvester until we meet him in person) that he's also fully equipped with the same cheeks as his big sister.

Christmas Post Partum

2007-12-28T19:10:00.000-08:00

Given that Christmas is meant to be a celebration of the birth of our saviour, a 'post mortem' seemed an inappropriate term for my reflections on this year's season. But I did want to share some of what I've been turning over in my mind.
I have to say it was quite a pleasant event for our little family. Not too stressful - no ferry waits or traffic jams on our travels - nor did we get caught up in too much of
the typical seasonal insanity of trying to buy a good year.
And yet, over Christmas, I was conscious of a significant void. There was time with family, good food, helping each other with preparations and cleanup, food, relaxing, cookies, food, turkey. But nothing at all to suggest that our Lord sent his son to be born as a man, to become our saviour.
Now that's not at all surprising. My family are not, at least at this point, believers. But having a young daughter and another child on the way, I want more than ever to find a way to reflect what's behind Christmas in our celebration of it, in some tangible way that our children can grasp and take part in. And, without driving them away, I'd like it to be something that the rest of my family can see as well.
It's something we'll be thinking and talking about over the coming year.

2007-12-15T22:45:00.000-08:00

Sigh...
It's been so long since I posted I had to go back and read my own blog to se what I said before. But here, at the tail end of our vacation, I've found a bit of time to put fingers to keys and share a few thoughts from the muddled mind of a mom expecting her second.
My neighbor and Tweetie's daycare provider told me this pregnancy would go much faster, as you don't have the luxury of sitting back, rubbing cocoa butter on your belly and contemplating romantic visions of your future. Honestly, I hardly have time to think. That's probably a good thing most of the time, though there's probably a few things that are going to be missed until the last moment. Like where are we going to put T's little brother? (details, details, I know).
We don't actually know yet if this is going to be a brother or a sister, but we've been going with the boy theory from early on. It's been a rather different pregnancy than my first. With Tweetie, I had virtually no morning sickness, just a few aversions that persisted. I've still had it easy this time relative to some women I know, but I definitely felt green most afternoons and evenings for a good part of the first trimester, and I continue to be far more sensitive to certain things that'll make me queasy and/or kill my appetite. That alone has me looking forward to heading home again in a couple of days.
I'm pretty sure I carried T a lot lower than this one, too. But he's growing steadily in spite of my intermittent appetite - faster I think than
T - which is a little scary considering how big she was :0 Active, too. Seems to like to kick his big sister whenever he feels she's crowding him - typically when I'm bending over precariously and picking her up ;)
I should have an ultrasound appointment waiting for me on my return, so we'll know soon enough for certain. I'd consider keeping it a secret, but I don't think the Bear could.
Tweetie, meanwhile, has not slowed down at all. She picked her vacation week, starting on the ferry and at the airport on the way here, to decide that walking was an activity worthy of her attention. You'll remember she demonstrated that she could walk way back in September, but following that post, she decided that too many people wanted her to do that, so she'd just set that aside until she felt like it. From then until this week, she'd walked no more than a few tentative steps at a time, in very limited circumstances. Now she'll go pretty much wherever she wants. And she'll have a whole host of refined climbing skills to exercise back at daycare on her return (sorry, Shannon :) She so loves to climb; I've got to get her into a harness sometime!
And she seems ready to pick up her talking again, too, having left most of her summer vocabulary behind. The word of the day today has been 'Okay'. Her July favourite, 'book' made a couple of appearances this week, too.
One of my main hopes for her on this vacation was that a steady diet of warm weather and sunshine would help her kick this cough that's been dogging her since September. Unfortunately, it's been a rather wet week here. Though the sun's also made an appearance at some point everyday, it hasn't exactly been lounge on the beach weather. And in the meantime, she's picked up some bug in her stomach and has had the runs for half the week. Poor girl. I've used more diaper cream this week than I have in her whole little life prior. It's getting better with the pedialyte, but I'm just hoping it's fully cleared up before the flight home.
So, the Bear's finished his last dives for the trip. Actually, when we go south, the Bear becomes the Turtle - a moniker he's earned independently in three languages on two continents, for his love of just being in the water, even between dives. This last one tonight was a spectacular ending for him, but I'll let him tell the story.
Well, I'm going to sign off here and try to get some sleep. One more full day before we begin the trek back home. Hopefully it won't take me quite so long to get another post up here.

Anyone else wanna negotiate?

2007-10-19T21:14:00.000-07:00

So the Bear was supposed to be gone for two weeks, and coming home this past Friday. But it worked out for him to come home for a couple of days at the start of last week instead. Knowing he'd be coming home late Sunday morning via the ferry, I arranged to have our friends watch Tweetie for a few hours so we could have some time together before I got back into the work week, and he headed out of town again. It worked out for our friends to take her in the evening, so we decided to go out for a bite. And running through the options of places to go, we opted to go to Cactus Club, for old time's sake. The Bear used to take me to one of the original Cactus Club locations in North Van when we were still dating, and though the franchise has gone through a couple of makeovers since, there's still that connection.
So, we dropped off T and headed downtown. We put in our orders, including some wings with blue cheese sauce, one of the Bear's night out staples, for starters. A little while later, a different server brought the wings, but without the sauce. Our server had been caught up in a bit of a billing backlog. The Bear, being particular about such things, mentioned the missing sauce, and the other server said she'd look into it.
And so we waited. And waited. We never saw the other server again, but eventually flagged down our own. Knowing this was more an issue of staffing than our own server's efforts, the Bear asked to speak to the manager. Our server dutifully asked about the problem, and he filled her in. She came back a moment later with the sauce, and said the manager was on his way. Of course, by this time, the wings were cold, as were the finger bowls. When the manager came by a few minutes later, the Bear filled him in. And true to the Bear's negotiating record, the manager comp'd us the wings, plus a fresh pound with fresh sauce, and dessert. Which left me feeling room in the budget for another virgin margarita. And the rest of the evening went wonderfully, except that with all the extra wings, it was hard to finish my meal.

Life Happens

2007-10-12T21:52:00.000-07:00

I don't know about any of you (are any of you still out there - it's been so long) but I can be inclined at times to think way too much. And this has even been independently and objectively confirmed. When we lived in K-town, I worked at an online career development company and had lots of access to different personality and aptitude testing. Okay, it's perhaps a little less objective when you have access to the code, you're providing all the answers yourself and can take the test over and over. But when we were candidates for MAF, we did a fairly extensive personality assessment, with evaluations from different people who knew us. It was one of those four quadrant systems and I landed securely in the thinker's corner: Analytical-Analytical.
So when it comes to the big things in life, I rather like to take in all the info I can and weigh it all out. Pray about it, too, for sure, but the point is I like to be pretty sure of where I'm going and my best options for getting there. But sometimes, while I'm busy processing the data and mapping out the alternatives, life happens.
And life is exactly what happened about eight weeks ago, though it took us awhile to figure it out. It was three and a half weeks ago now that we learned, quite unexpectedly, that that same life was then five weeks along as the doctors count, and growing inside me. There've been some hurdles to overcome, and it's not been an easy three weeks emotionally, but a second ultrasound yesterday showed, unofficially, that everything seems to be on track.
Naturally, I'm back to thinking and processing all the new implications, but I reached a few conclusions pretty quickly. One of the biggest questions I was thinking, debating and praying about over the last number of months was whether I'd be able to handle another. Becoming mama to Tweetie's been a wonderful experience so far, and I certainly wouldn't go back for a minute, but it's also been incredibly hard on a lot of levels. The nature of this pregnancy cries out divine intervention, so I take great hope from the thought that God seems to think we can handle it. And since we made no active decision and did nothing to help this along (ok, well obviously we did something, but let's not get into those details) I can't spend the next months and years second guessing that choice.

So, there you have it. Life happens, often when and how we least expect it. And if all continues to go well, Tweetie will be a big sister next year, and there'll be a whole new wave of pregnancy and motherhood flotsam washing up on the coast in the meantime.

picky eater?

2007-10-02T17:49:00.000-07:00

Tweetie's been exposed to all sorts of different foods and flavours, and there's not much she outright dislikes. What she likes enough to make a decent-sized snack or meal of, especially among those things that travel well to daycare, seems to shift regularly. So we experiment sometimes, and judging by her little belly, we do alright.
But this morning she made me laugh. Cheerios are always a staple. I can put a little handful out and she can feed herself while I fix whatever else needs fixin'. And I can expect that some will find the floor instead of her mouth, more when she's not so hungry. This morning she was hungry and as I settled in with the cereal bowl and bottle, she was picking up the last oatey morsel and checking it out. It was a broken 'O', more like a big 'C'. She looked at it, put her hand out, and dropped it to the floor. I looked down where it landed, and today there was only one other bit on the floor.
Another broken O!
A sign of perfectionism and snobbery to come?

getting away

2007-09-30T07:55:00.000-07:00

The Bear and I were never particularly good about date nights. Not that we never went out or spent time together, but a lot of that time was spent just doing stuff. I look back fondly on some great conversations at Home Depot. And we'd go for dinner often enough, but it was usually more a matter of not wanting to cook (or shop first and then cook) than a conscious effort to enhance our relationship. Birthdays and anniversary always warranted a nice dinner, and everything else was just whatever happened.

Needless to say, our track record since we've been parents has not improved. Tweetie has thankfully always been pretty good company, and, unlike some of our parental peers, she's come out with us to a number of places on different occasions. But that doesn't allow the one-on-one time without distractions or interruptions of a real date night. Tweetie's a little over a year now, and I can count on two thumbs the number of times we've been out by ourselves. I think I blogged about both, but for a recap, there was the time in February we were on the mainland and came back late to my mom's place, put Tweetie to bed, and realizing we'd forgotten to stop for food, spontaneously decided to leave T in bed (with my mom also sleeping in the next room) and go out for a late sit-down bite by ourselves. Then there was our anniversary, where another mom from my block took Tweetie for a couple of hours while we went out for dinner.
We had planned an outing a few weeks back on the Bear's birthday, but plans changed when his family came over to visit and we all went out together for a nice japanese teppan dinner. We tried to reschedule our private night out, but I dropped the ball on booking the sitter and it turned out to be one of those few nights when Tweetie didn't make ideal company - partly due to the most unhelpful nature of the restaurant we chose - with the result that it was anything but a relaxing night out.
But tonight we execute on a plan hatched months ago. It started when they announced the Police were doing a show in Vancouver. The Bear really wanted to go, but he was out of town, so he asked me to try and grab some tickets when they went on sale. We were sadly denied, with the tickets being sold out in very short order. But then Blue Man Group came up on the radar, and they were playing here in town, and while they're definitely not the Police, they do promise to put on a very entertaining show , of a nature that appeals to a tinkering guy like the Bear.
So, tonight's the night. Our sitter will arrive at 6:30, we'll brief her on what's where and the routine, and we'll be off to go do something, just the two of us, for a whole evening. The Bear's so excited about seeing the show that I've actually got him doing housework for me! But don't tell him I told y'all. I'm looking forward to the show, but it probably would matter much less to me what we were doing. To be doing anything just for entertainment without having to multitask the child minding off to one side will be a welcome change for a few hours.

2007-09-27T21:55:00.000-07:00

Okay, don't get too excited. I know this is two posts in as many days after barely two in as many months. And we may go back to the old pace again right after, but sometimes you just have to take the time when you can. And some things just need to be shared promptly. This one's some of both.

Today was a day when I needed to take it easy. Take everything down a notch. Not get excited about anything that could wait for another day. A hard thing for me to do at the best of times. But I had a little help. The traffic coming home was fairly civilized. Tweetie was mostly back to her happy self today after nearly a week of dealing with immunization side effects. I opted for frozen pizza so I could sit on the couch with her instead of bouncing back and forth between kitchen to cook and living room to see what she was exploring. We took the dogs out for their walk, and there'd been just a trace of showers and a threat of a little more. This meant when we went by the park it was empty of the usual crowd of local dogs and their folks. Which in turn meant I could just toss the ball and let them burn off a good load of energy without having to walk a long way myself. And when I let the dogs back in the house after, I turned back to see a bright stem of a rainbow shooting up from mount Tolmie, the start of a full, if more subtle, arc, right around to the neighbour's yard.
But the best surprise came while spending time with Tweetie. I've been encouraging her with her standing a lot, and she's taken a few tentative half-steps just this week, though often choosing to drop down and crawl when she tires of the stationary view. but today I let go again, held out my hands, and she took three good steps before lunging for my arms. We called up the Bear, and while I was filling him in she took another five. Once more while he was still on the line, and this time seven steps. At this rate she'll be running marathons next week.
It has been a very hairy day, but I think I know what parts I want to remember.

Chicken Little

2007-09-26T21:30:00.000-07:00

We have a few very special friends whom we can count on for just about anything. If things go really crazy, they're the ones that get the call. Or the desperate e-mail. Whether it's minor emergencies, major crises, or just tough situations and decisions that leave us feeling a bit over our heads, we can send up a prayer flare and know that they'll be going before the throne of God along with us, from wherever they are. Not surprisingly, these are folks that have been there on the ground with practical support, too, when that's what was needed.
Sometimes, as I'm reaching yet again for the flares, I can't help but feel a bit like Chicken Little, running around again, telling everyone the sky is about to come crashing down around me. Maybe it's the world we're in that tells us we should be ever more self-sufficient, take care of anything that comes up at home from within those same walls. I was definitely raised to be self-sufficient. Don't become too dependent on anyone, they might not be there when you need 'em.
So it's taken a lot of time to learn to reach out for that support. And our friends have been most patient with us. There've been a lot of flares fired their way in the last few years. Some of those things seem very small now, but perhaps that's because there were good friends alongside us. Certainly some of those things I couldn't see us having come through without them, at least not without some major scars. And if every now and then, perchance, I get a tad trigger-happy on the flare gun, they've been more than gracious and never let on.
Thanks.

Reunion...

2007-08-18T08:56:00.001-07:00

I've some catching up to do. I've posted nothing since I went back to work, apart from the pictures post for Shirtless, which took nearly two weeks to get done. As such, this post is going to incorporate a lot of rabbit trails. If I tried to break it up into neat and tidy individual posts, you'd never get most of it.
My first week back was carefully crafted to be a somewhat easy start. It was a short week, and I didn't yet have a project assignment, so I worked from home catching up on admin type stuff like a year's worth of e-mail and password changes. Of course, putting in a full day's work with a little one at your feet tends to take a day and a half, but it was still a good thing, as we didn't have anyone to watch her, yet. By the third day, a colleague I'd worked with on a previous project had tracked me down for something new. So that afternoon I went in to the office for a couple of hours while the Bear watched over Tweetie.
That first trip in without her felt very strange, even alien, and I was very glad it was just a few hours before I could go home again. But it was also good to finally do it. To put on the professional attire, get all the bits together, hop on the bus and go to work.
I had the Thursday and Friday booked off, as we had company coming through, and then we were headed for K-town for a surprise birthday party. As things often are, it was not the weekend we had planned. We got word halfway there that the Bear's mom was on evacuation alert for forest fires in her area. With minimal information, and a lot of stirred up emotions from our own encounters with the firestorm a few years back, we opted to drive straight through (after a brief but greatly appreciated stop for food at the Martens' desert oasis) so the Bear could help out with evacuation preparations and some work around the property to reduce the risks. So we got in in the wee hours Saturday morning. The Bear was already planning to come that way after the weekend, and we figured with T along, I was more likely a liability sticking around, so after some sleep I turned around and headed back to K-town with Tweetie.
Or so, we thought. We were all loaded, and I put the key in. The Bear was just beside the car waiting to wave good-bye, but a sound like a hard drive about to implode greeted us from beneath the hood. After some poking around, he identified a fan, but couldn't get in to do anything about it. Calling ahead, he spoke to our dealer in Kelowna, and made arrangements to have someone look at it as soon as I got in. I drove direct to Turner Volkswagen, with one eye on the temperature gauge the whole way, and got there half an hour before closing. To make a long story short, these guys are AWESOME. Not only did they fit me in and identify the problem, but knowing I was here from out of town, couldn't make the drive home without the fix, and that parts would likely take a few days, they had not one, but two of their fine mechanics stay late. Like a transplant operation, one guy extracted a healthy new part from a car on the lot, and the other removed the damaged organ from our car, then they hooked the new one in, tester her, and I was ready to go. On a long weekend. And all under warranty - no fuss, no hassle. Three cheers to Sean Miller for making it happen.
So, we missed B's surprise for her 60th, which was a bummer, but the car didn't melt down on the Coq, on my way home with a teen and a baby, which is very nice. Tweetie and I stopped by on Sunday to pass on our wishes to B, whose house was still full of visitors from near and far. And we still fulfilled the other mission for the weekend, which was to pick up the Goddess' daughter, Thing One, who would be keeping an eye on Tweetie for us in August. The holiday Monday was spent showing Thing One the ropes before heading back for week two.
My second week at work felt way too long. I had put in the paperwork to switch to an eighty percent work week on my return, but it hadn't been approved yet, so I was still putting in full days. I was thankful, though, for getting into a good, interesting project that kept my mind busy. One of the oddest things that week was getting into the car and driving back and forth to work alone. I kept wanting to check the back seat for Tweetie. I've so rarely gone anywhere in the last year without her that it felt like I was forgetting her somewhere when I didn't buckle her in before pulling away.
Overall, I think I did better than I thought I might, as did Tweetie. She's hardly fussed at all when I've headed out in the morning. Somewhere in me there's a little disappointment ("She doesn't even miss me"), but truly, I have no desire to visit the alternative. As it turns out, she may be missing me more than I thought, as the Bear's suggested it might be part of the trouble we've had lately at bedtime.
On the weekend, we went to the library, saw my neighbour's show at the Deluge gallery, plus a couple of other galleries, and did some of the usual weekend catchup.
This week was the first of what ought to be 'normal' weeks. My part-time status was approved (Hallelujah!), so I worked five shorter days between two locations. Thing One was happy to have her days shortened up a bit, too. And, Thursday afternoon, the Bear made it home again from his mom's, and as I pulled in from work, the big red truck was still idling in the driveway as he pulled open the gate. Tweetie'd been missing the man in the phone, so to get a good bear growl in person made her very smiley. I got food on the go, leaving the two of them to catch up a bit, and very much enjoyed listening in as the Bear found his Dr. Seuss voice.
In fact, one of the best things about my whole, crazy summer has been watching the Bear breaking in his Papa shoes. As Tweetie has developed more into a little person, one that crawls and stands and babbles and giggles and explores and listens, he's been finding his feet in the world of parenthood. It took a long time for him to start to feel comfortable with her, and with being responsible for her, but God's gracious and took him there gently when he was most needed. As I've stepped back into the world of work, he's stepped up to the plate, taking on her care as needed and finding other ways to make all our lives smoother. And it's been wonderful, even in the couple of days since he's been home again, to have him backing me up when things get crazy in the evening.
I couldn't ask for more, except maybe a few other pictures like this one from Friday night, courtesy of Thing One:

Random, sort of

2007-07-29T22:05:00.000-07:00

Well, Shirtless asked awhile back for 8 random pictures I've taken. Now, my random picture selector seems to have a slight bias lately towards a particular subject, but here's what we've got:

1. Tweetie discovers the open bag of O's while Momma was packing up at the Taylors'.

2. The block on which Tweetie cut tooth number 7 (most of that was done in just over an hour!) Tooth number seven arrived the weekend we came home and she's now working hard on a molar (ouch!).

3. Some pretty sights along the Taylors' driveway.

4. Our future engineer (one of a number of vocations she's trying on for size)

5. Bleach keeping the Bear's bed warm.

6. The cabinet-maker assists me with assembling the bookshelf.

7. More pretty driveway things.

8. Proof that our basement is at least half an inch too short. (We'd love to add about 2 feet, really)

9. Yes, that's more than eight, but there's always room for Dr. Seuss!

Renesting

2007-07-25T14:22:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm down to the last few days of my mat leave, and there's something oddly familiar about the sense of urgency I feel with my to do list. Much as there were many things I hoped to have completed when we were awaiting Tweetie's arrival, I have a host of things I figure have to be done this week because they'll never get done once I'm back at work. In fact, I'm not sure I'll be able to get anything done, so if it's remotely important I'd better do it now. It feels very much like nesting all over again - but without the hormones (PHew!)

Thankfully, I think I've also learned a thing or two in the last year. Like it won't all get done, and the world won't end because of it. And there's been a gentle nudging at my heart to start now setting boundaries to keep a balance. When I needed to log into the corporate network to send some info to my resource manager, I had to stop myself from jumping in and sorting through all the old e-mails in my work account. I can do that when I'm actually back on duty. I've shuffled a few things on my list as well. I'm doing pretty well, I think, at dealing with things that need dealing with, but I'm trying to also spend as much time with Tweetie as I can, and keep my priorities straight.
I don't yet know where I'll be working. It will depend on what projects are on the go that have a need for my skillset. Wherever I end up, I pray that I'll be able to keep a right perspective on roles as worker, wife and mother. And I pray I'll have the wisdom and courage to make tough choices to protect my family, if need be. I worry that I won't be able to keep it all together, but I'm encouraged by looking back on the past year. God took me through the radical transition to motherhood - the hardest thing I've ever done by far - and the many changes that came in the first year. I know he'll take me through whatever's ahead, and not give me more than I can handle. He is good, and I'm anxious to see what he has in store for me.
But, brave and secure as that all sounded, pray for me anyway.

The best kind

2007-07-22T07:24:00.000-07:00

Mmmm... It's good to be home. Most of all to sleep in my own bed again. Even Tweetie liked that idea when we got in last night. A real crib with a mattress thicker than an inch, and her big air filter white noise generator, and her bedtime lullabyes on CD. I put her in her crib and she was snuggling her face into the mattress before I could get the sleeping bag zipped up around her. Then there was the obligatory protest, but it was brief and half-hearted.
But it was a good road trip, especially the last leg up with our friends the Goddess and Badger. The Badger had lined up some work for the Bear, so he was kept pretty busy, which is always good. Whenever we have the chance to spend time with them, I come to appreciate their friendship even more, and I wish it were easier to stop by more often. They're the kind of friends you can just be yourself with. And you feel a part of their family as the stuff of life goes on. They'd just officially finished a year of renovation on their new home, and as you'd expect, there were a few loose ends. So we jumped in wherever we fit best. From the Bear helping the Badger with wiring and sound - flashbacks to their days as church sound techs - to my helping with baking or mopping the floor. That last one, oddly, was as much for my benefit as anyone else. The catharsis of making a floor clean when my hands are free is, for me, a strange side effect of early motherhood. You would never guess this by the state of my own floor on any given day, it's just one of the things that feels good when I can actually get it done.
But I most appreciate what happens when we're around for more than a few hours. The threads of conversations that weave in and out as the days pass. The Goddess and I share a distaste for phones. It's just not a channel that works well for us. But she's a very good listener, and whatever our hands are busy with when she's around, we can chat. And when the misfit pieces of a messy life come to the surface I find them a little easier to look at. And when we've gone over missed steps, rough terrain and uncertain direction on my current path, I walk away feeling a little less lost, knowing someone's been there.
That's the best kind of friend.

A long night.

2007-07-21T00:32:00.000-07:00

Okay, so there haven't exactly been waves of great posts rolling in on this coastal spot lately. Not that I haven't thought of you all, I just haven't had a lot of time, and more significantly, I haven't had my own laptop handy.
Our little road trip is winding down, and we're heading home. I'm sitting here in a hotel in Smithers, hoping T will finally fall asleep soon. Overall she's been a great little traveler, but today has taught us that morning trips work much better for her than disrupting her evening routine.
Wait. Did you hear that? Oops, spoke too soon. Another sputter and squirm, but it's getting quieter. She's been fussing and tossing and crawling around since we rolled in about three hours ago. As soon as it stays quiet I'm signing off this post, but there should be more soon, as tomorrow will be a day more like our other traveling days. We'll be heading out early, ideally packing the car while she's still mostly asleep and at most feeding her a bottle and loading her up in the car before she's fully awake. We pulled a couple of 9+ hour legs that way a couple of weeks ago on the way up, and she handled it pretty well.
hmmm... silence. I'm off to finish the bottles and get me to bed.
Cheers

The next big thing

2007-06-30T23:17:00.000-07:00

For me that is. It's been an occasional topic of conversation for months. It's been the subject of some anticipation, some fear and an increasing level of busyness lately. It's only four weeks away.
It's my return to working life.

I was midway through the bottle routine last night - just done washing and not yet started filling - when I felt the need to stop, sit down and pray. Normally such urges come with a specific person in mind, maybe a known situation or a vague sense of need. Tonight I had already sat down before I realized I didn't know what I was to pray for. A number of people have been on my heart in passing today, so I thought, "Okay, Lord. I'll just spend some time on those and follow your lead." I felt pretty sure that a significant focal point would come out of that.
I was a few stops down the list before I caught that still small voice. (Not an audible voice, just a sense for me.) Something to the effect of, "That's all well and good, but what about you?"
"Huh? Well, I guess I should pray about all this stuff coming up." I did. Or I tried to. It was like having a severe case of writer's block in the middle of a conversation. Later, when the bottles were done, I started this post, but set it aside when I realized I still hadn't made it past the surface in prayer. What could I honestly write to finish it?
The last big thing was the arrival of Tweetie. And even before she was conceived, I was coming time and again to God, saying, "I need you to be with me on this. I can't do it on my own." The image of my pregnant figure folded on my knees with arms outstretched (a mental image that accompanied the right attitude at least - most of my prayers were done in comfy chairs) is burned into my mind.
I came back to prayer this morning, having showered early, and awaiting Tweetie's wake up. After considerable fumbling, I think I've finally started to get the point. I've been working pretty hard at getting all my ducks lined up, preparing myself and Tweetie for the transition, and generally working to improve my odds as I set forth to do this on my own. Perhaps I've taken the wrong lesson from my little girl?
So, I'm praying again. Lord, let me see this transition through your eyes. Let me be guided by you in the choices and preparations I'm making. I am so grateful for the time I've had to spend with my daughter, your gift, and for all the growth you've brought us through. I thank you again for all the grace you have poured out on me and my family in this season, and I pray that you would keep me from guarding my heart against your continued outpouring as I return to work. Draw me to you when I need help to find balance. Draw me to you for wisdom in parenting. Draw me to you for strength to stand apart in the workplace. Keep me mindful of the other plans you have for me, and of new doors opening.
A song, Someday by Over the Rhine comes to mind. The second verse and chorus:

and if you need my attention
be bizarre
feel free to ignore convention
(it's alright)
and if it's a matter of permission
you can do me harm
i wouldn't miss it for the world

someday
i'll pray
don't leave me alone

Aging

2007-06-30T15:58:00.000-07:00

Yup, it's something we all do, and it's the one thing I can say with certainty that I never procrastinate on. I do a little every day so it's not such a shock at the next marker. And so the latest one passed quite gracefully. Mostly. And if you're wondering, I've never really kept it a secret. I marked a quarter century shortly after our wedding, and we recently marked a decade of marriage, so if you do the math, that makes me thirty-five.
As it happened, the Bear was out of town on my birthday, but he left a day later than planned so he could take me for a nice dinner first. I spent a good part of the actual day packing, doing laundry and sorting papers to be dropped off to the bookkeeper before I left to join the Bear. I then got birthday greetings all the way up the line, starting with a night at my mom's, a morning stop at my sister's, a visit with our old friends in K-town, and a late birthday cake when I caught up to the Bear at my in-laws. And LOTS of strawberries at every stop, which I've always associated with good birthdays.
Like most things these days, though, my perspective is a little different. I don't feel old at all, but perhaps I'm conscious of being not quite so young. And when I think about being thirty-five, I think about when I started to be aware of my own mother's birthdays and her age. It was her mid-thirties. (Oddly, I don't have nearly such clear memories of my dad aging, though he was born in the same year as my mom). By the time Tweetie reaches that point, I'll be into that next decade. The number doesn't really matter much, but I'm gonna have to work a little harder at keeping myself in good shape to keep up with her. And I do feel like lately I've wanted to work a little harder at procrastinating. Or at least being a bit less effective. I can't stop the clock, but I can limit what I let it tell me.
Here's to living fully to as many more birthdays as I'm granted.

UNCLE!

2007-06-25T16:01:00.000-07:00

Well, the Bear's on the road again. But this past Friday and Saturday, my mom (Mor Mor to her grandkids) was over for a quick visit, and she brought my four-year-old nephew with her.
Now, the Bear and I have been auntie and uncle for almost as long as we've been together, and Uncle is a title the Bear wears very well. Okay, well there's been this slight tendency to load his sister's kids up on sugar and high excitement and hand them back, but that's not the point of this post. Since most of the nieces and nephews are a little older and more interactive, he very much enjoys exposing them to new things and investing a little of his wild life into them.
Case in point, a few years back, my niece came out to stay with my mom for a few weeks in the summer. While she was here, we hooked up with them at a friend's ranch in Cache Creek. Between the dogs, ATV rides and driving lessons and stories, he was a hit. That Christmas we got a card from her. She remembered her uncle's name, but I was 'mom's sister'. I still laugh at that!
So, back to this weekend. Our nephew is also very fond of big, manly men like the Bear, especially when he has a big loud red truck and other such cool things. The soundtrack for the two days was peppered with "Uncle ..." When I had talked to the Bear about our nephew coming along with Mor Mor on the visit, the wheels had immediately begun turning, and rolling down the runway. The Bear was scheduling a checkout flight with a local flight center and secured permission for a certain small passenger to come along. An hour is a really long time to hold the attention of a four-year-old, but they came awfully close with flying. And with his own headset part of the package in a small aircraft, the Bear gave him a chance to help out with the radios. Apparently, the exchange went something like this:
Cessna - "Gawf - Mikuhl - Alfuh - Zooloo downwin right. Reekehsting runway free fohr fuh touch an go."
Tower (female controller)- "Awwwwww! That's so cute. Honey, you can have anything you want!"

I suspect that memory will be a keeper for all involved.

Papa's day

2007-06-17T21:59:00.000-07:00

Lest anyone think I'd neglected the Bear on his first Father's Day as one, rest assured he was not forgotten. I think I came up with the near perfect gift for him at this time and occasion (IMHO). Something to share with Tweetie.
I picked up a bike child carrier trailer at MEC, and the Bear took it out for a test spin in the afternoon.

Tweetie took it all in stride, though this next shot might be considered false advertising. The happy grin only came after they stopped and, camera ready, I sang the first line of Five Green and Speckled Frogs - she really, really likes that song.

She also wore her freshly minted Father's Day shirt for the occasion. It was remarkably hard to get a clear shot. She wouldn't stop dancing around!

And lest there be any doubt which bear's her papa, this one's marked with three toes.

Dear Dad,

2007-06-17T06:55:00.000-07:00

Dear Dad,
As you know, a little over 9 months ago, my life changed. Some of those changes began for me in the 9 months previous, as our little girl grew within me. But for her dad, the changes that came with her arrival were a bit more of a shock to the system, as they likely were for you some thirty-five years ago. I was your second child, so you had some idea what was coming, but you and mom had been in a new country for barely a couple of years.
In the years since, I've collected many memories that come to mind when I think about you, but as I've looked back over them with the eyes of a new parent, I've seen many of them in a new light. For Father's Day today, I'd like to share with you some of what I see in those memories today.
Most of the memories, of course, were from weekends-with-Dad. I was always conscious of the limits of our relationship, but I've come to appreciate the efforts it must have taken to fill those weekends with experiences. How do you concentrate the things you want to share into a bite-sized package? I think you found some great ways.
You broadened my horizons, taking us to cultural events around town, from the Powell Street Festival, to matinees at the Vancouver Playhouse, to the Folk Fest, Children's Fests, Jazz Fest and even Expo. My interest in understanding how other people view things and how their stories shape them was fed regularly.
Along the way you also developed my palate. You've always had a remarkable knack for finding hole-in-the-wall eateries with authentic tastes from around the world. Tastes I wouldn't otherwise have encountered. And you were always ahead of the wave, like when you introduced us to Korean BBQ well before it became trendy (and a little less authentic). In turn I've expanded the tastes of that consummate bachelor I married (he's become a bit of a gourmet lately), and hope to do the same for our girl.
You showed me the world. As you followed the work to different places, we visited you at both ends of the gold rush trail, in San Fran and the Yukon, taking backroads and detours along the way. You taught me to look beyond the tourist brochure and seek out the true life in the places we visited. My first whirlwind tour of Europe was with you, and I treasure having climbed the leaning tower (though I recall it took some ~~whining~~ persuasion on my part), my first view of glass being fired and blown in Venice, and of course, the many variations on the toilet theme.
You fostered a love of the outdoors, and taught me it was okay, even healthy, to step beyond my comfort zone and take a few risks. Walking the trails up to the Lions and cross country skiing at Cypress when it was still free. The overnight hike up Black Tusk to see snow in July. Later the West Coast Trail, including a lunch of fresh mussels while we waited for our ride across the river, and a world of exciting life in the tidal pools. Even hitching a ride back to the origin of the trail. On the boat I spent far too much time below deck for your taste, but I really did love sailing into all those familiar coves and harbours, encountering the wildlife, and standing up across the deck in a hard wind, gunwales dipping into the waves. All that time sailing and exploring probably has a lot to do with my attachment to the coast.
A few of the earliest memories have become more vivid of late. In Lions Bay the house you built was across the street from the new school . I still remember when they were putting in the playground at the bottom of the lot, you were helping out. I followed you for what must have been hours as you took load after load of mulch on the path down the hill, and I so kindly hitched a ride back up the hill each time in the 'empty' wheelbarrow. I remember asking you to do those push-ups with the clap in the middle in the mornings because you were so strong. And I remember one day, after I was old enough to go to that same school, I tripped on the way down the driveway. I'd tripped once about a week before and got a couple of little scratches and you had shepherded me on to class, so I plucked myself up, a little bloodier this time, and began to shuffle on. You came out the front door and called me back up to the house where you cleaned me up properly and made sure everything was patched up.
These are some of the moments that capture how you've shaped me and cared for me as I grew up. I hope our little girl will have a chance for a few of her own adventures with her Opa. Maybe in the spring?

Sidewalk refreshment

2007-06-16T14:55:00.000-07:00

I was a grumpy mum this morning. We were up earlier than usual, and I had a lot of stuff running through my mind. A good walk helped a bit, a little snooze too, and I confess a bit of unloading on some good friends via e-mail.
But the most pleasant part of my day so far was just a little while ago. Tweetie's rather unsettled today, so I opted to practice walking with her out front again. Caught the neighbour's daughter-in-law heading for her van and we got to chatting, which turned into an impromptu playdate right on the sidewalk. Their little girl's a real cutie. She's about twice Tweetie's age, but with the Down Syndrome and related health issues, they're at almost the same place developmentally. We just sat on the sidewalk and chatted about mom things and life in general, and kept the girls from poking each other until we both knew they were overdue for feeding. It was most refreshing.
The neighbour's been renovating and his son is here most nights working on the house, so I'm looking forward to hanging out again some time.

Ouch

2007-06-14T21:25:00.000-07:00

I've been a full-fledged mom for a little over 9 months now, and it's taught me an amazing amount of things. Things about myself, about my own parents, about my husband, about life. I rather expected that.
What has surprised me is how some of the simplest, everyday things can be so heartwrenching.
Tonight, as on other nights, it was holding the line on bedtime. I decided some time ago to fix a final bedtime. There's a window where she'll normally go to sleep, but after a certain time, if she's not actively feeding and there's no other real need, she goes in her crib. But no matter how clear it is to my head that all her needs are met, that she needs sleep and I need to take care of other matters before I can sleep, listening to her cry in her crib can be agonizing to me. The very idea of my child falling asleep in distress goes against my maternal drive to comfort and soothe. My usual compromise is to stay in the room - read blogs, e-mail, play solitaire - until she's settled or asleep. It comforts me to be there, and I don't find myself second guessing as much whether I missed some trauma that's upsetting her.
For whatever reason, that ache ran a little deeper tonight. And I found myself wondering how much deeper my heavenly father has ached for me at times when I cried out for what I thought I wanted.

And the winner is...

2007-06-13T21:01:00.000-07:00

There's been an ongoing debate around here for awhile over whether Tweetie would learn to crawl or just go straight to walking. She was bearing weight on her legs even in the hospital. As she grew she found many ways of moving herself across the floor when she was so inclined, but didn't show much interest in efficiency. While the Goddess was visiting last month, she started lifting up to hands and knees in earnest and seemed ready to explode into crawling. We had fun watching her rock back and forth, and laughed a little (gently and kindly of course) when she'd reach beyond her balance point into a faceplant. It seemed an interesting experiment to her, but when it came to getting around, sliding and spinning was just as good, apart from the frustration of looking forward to a target and moving backward. But the Jolly Jumper was great fun and kept her interested in being upright.
Well, sometime on the weekend, I was carrying on with whatever I was doing, Tweetie on the floor nearby. And then I looked at her and she was on hands and knees again, and then a knee moved, and a hand, and the other knee and hand. She covered about a foot in distance, backwards still, before flopping down. And I'm happy to say she's also learned to flop comfortably back on her bottom or belly. I've since seen her make a few tentative moves in a forward direction, with a look of great satisfaction.
So, crawling wins, but second place results will be in very soon. In the last two weeks, walking practice has become a regular part of the day, with each days steps taking her farther, from a few feet, to the next room, to a full tour of the main floor. At least a couple of times a day now, she wants to be walked. My back is looking forward to her taking those first independent steps, but my heart would be happy to keep her at the end of my arms awhile longer, so it doesn't need to be restarted after every unanticipated hazard she approaches at full speed.
As I got tired of doing laps from living room to kitchen, I tried a couple of times taking her out front. Much too much happening out there, though. Today I carried her to the sidewalk, where she took about three of her steps and promptly stopped to smell the roses. Each and every one, and the dandelions, too.
I guess I should pay attention.

and a little rest goes a long way

2007-06-11T15:16:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the latest in a string of long days, the ones that stretch you just a bit. Not bad days, but their cumulative effect is a very weary mamma, prone to making a bit of a mess. A few nights ago I was so tired when I sat down for a bit with the bear, I was downright giddy. I've heard from a few other moms that their tolerance for alcohol was noticeably down after having a baby, but this was silly. The Bear had himself a drink, and I felt tipsy!
Anyway, all this rambling is just the setup for one of those stories. The ones that seem to come with parenting, and you just have to share so you can laugh at it. Or at least someone else can laugh with you. And if it ever happens to them they won't have to wonder why they never hear of this happening to anyone else.
Tweetie had taken a bottle not long before and it was time to put her on the potty. Typically I'll put her on, cue her, and depending on what signs she's given me and how sure I am she needs to go, wait awhile. If nothing happens and she's getting restless, I'll give her a wipe for good measure and we'll carry on. This time she'd been giving some signs before that she might be ready to poop, and she was a little overdue so I thought I'd give her lots of time. I settled myself in to entertain her with various mamma-daughter silliness. (Silliness, thankfully, comes rather easily when I'm tired.)
After waiting much longer than the usual time, I decided I'd probably got my cues all wrong again, and other than a bit of gas, we weren't going to get anything out of this sitting. I took a quick peek in the bowl to be sure, then hoisted her up to take her back to the change table across the hall. Halfway there she erupted in a wail and uncomfortable squirming. At the same instant I noticed an equally discomforting squishing sensation on my arm. Tracing back my steps to the potty, and more importantly the soap and running water, I discovered that what had not been in the bowl when I peeked had dropped off to the floor beside the toilet when I hoisted her and the remnant had been sheared off by my forearm in the nursery entrance. I'd forgotten the obligatory 'wipe for good measure', which would have saved me much further wiping and scrubbing. Well, at least she's not old enough to try and help.
Thankfully, while walking the dogs in the afternoon I was struck with the brilliant idea of going out for chinese. The Bear didn't have to cook, there was no cleanup from dinner, and as a bonus, Tweetie fell asleep on the way home from the restaurant and was in bed nice and early. Bottles were done well ahead of schedule and I even got some good mom-and-dad time with the Bear before heading to bed for a pretty decent night's sleep. Today started with a nearly dry night diaper and later a perfectly placed deposit in the bottom of the bowl.
Ahh, the wonders of a little rest. Actually, it seems a lot like the old days when Mondays were for recovering from the weekend!

Tagged

2007-06-06T11:52:00.000-07:00

Tex over at the Maru was tagged this week and proceeded to tag me, among others. Here's the rules I'm loosely obliged to follow (we seem to have started a little rebellion over rules).

1: People who are tagged, write a blog post about their own 8 random things, and post these rules.
2: At the end of your post you need to tag 8 people and include their names.
3: You may need to leave them a comment and tell them they’re tagged, and to read your blog

So here are eight random things you may or may not know, or care to know, about me.

When I was a kid my hair was so blonde and fine a friend told me I looked bald when we were in the pool.
I played trombone in the band. Never was one for the road most travelled. I still have my 'bone on a shelf, and I'd consider playing it again if I had some context. I taught three other girls to play, too. Before that I played banjo. Well, I took banjo lessons, anyway. Gave the banjo away awhile back. I also sang tenor in vocal jazz and chamber choir. I miss singing the most, especially with a group willing to work hard on getting it just right.
I studied computer science at UVic as a stepping stone to architecture school, but I never stepped. Sometimes things change. When I go back to work following mat leave in (AACKK!) seven weeks, I'll be putting on my techno geek hat again. Right over my current favourite and always present headgear: Mamma.
I once fell for a guy whose lives to be the hero. Many kinds of hero. Random acts of kindness hero. Balance the scales of justice hero. Hero with the cool toys and crazy tales. I think his personal favourite is the nobody-else-coulda-ever-pulled-that-off hero. Keeping a hero ready to go and well-stocked with clean capes is hard work, but more than ten years later, he's still mine.

half-way there, gotta think up some more stuff.
I can do the wave with my eyebrows.
If I had the opportunity to go back to school at this point, I think I'd do a Masters of Christian Studies at Regent College. A number of reasons, but one big one is that they offer a concentration in Christianity and the Arts. And they don't limit their definition of arts to music and drama. So hard to find much real discussion around visual arts, and to actually take time to do research on it and do work in that kind of context? Mmmm, very tempting.
We have a daughter, nine months old today. The Bear's sister has two girls, his little brother two boys (so far). My sister has two kids, one of each. So in theory, if we had another and it was a little boy, both our extended families would be all balanced out. I've always kinda liked the number three, but I've also kinda grown attached to being married ;)
I've been to Europe once with each of my parents as a kid and once with the Bear in 2000. We've been talking about a trip to Africa where we could visit some of our missionary friends from MAF.

So that covers eight random things. Now there's the tagging of others. I still can't come up with anywhere near eight that haven't already been tagged; Perhaps we're a bit incestuous here in our blog circle. Or maybe it's 'cause there's a lot of folks that read us and don't post comments to let us know who and where they are. Anywhere, I'll go half way. To Shirtless, Viscountess, the R. Pletts, and Poisho (cause you're waay overdue for an update anyway), "Tag, you're it!" Some of you have your hands rather full with various things right now, but that's OK, I did away with the time limit.

dream time

2007-06-03T21:50:00.000-07:00

Well, we ate at a fairly civilized hour tonight - Tweetie a little after six and me and the Bear about an hour later. And a most civilized dinner it was, as well. One of the Bear's favourites, beef medallions with this great balsamic and red onion reduction, with steamed asparagus and a salad. I told you we don't always eat MREs, just more often than we should. But I digress.
As a result I was able to get Tweetie settled toward her bedtime right on schedule, with all the bottles already rinsed and collected and no kitchen collisions.
Ten after nine, Tweetie had drifted off in her crib and I went back downstairs. Fifteen minutes later I heard her crying, and it drift off as it often does. Something was troubling her, likely either gas or her teeth, so I picked her up and took her to the potty. That way she could pee from her bedtime bottle and stay drier the rest of the night, and I could rub her back to help with any gas at the same time. Again, I digress.
She eventually settled again and I put her back down. She went back to sleep, but the first ten minutes were intriguing to witness, as she squirmed and tossed, eyes closed and by all other signs asleep. I could only imagine she was dreaming, and not a pleasant dream. It's one of those unanswerable questions. What do babies dream about? What is a dream like for them? What is thought like when you don't have words? But the heart wrencher for a parent is wondering what could possibly a baby's nightmare?
She's settled right down again now, and I've prayed for her (which at least made me feel better). Some day she'll have words to tell me what her dreams are filled with. Perhaps it was a horrible episode about being attacked by a giant Kleenex, her current nemesis. She was, after all, wrestling vigorously with the extra blanket.

Favourite meal ideas?

2007-06-03T12:55:00.000-07:00

Yes, I am on a quest for input, so all you folks who read but never post comments, scratch your heads and by all means put your two bits in.

I hate to think about it, but I'll be heading back to work in less than two months. The Bear does the lion's share of cooking 'round here, but as a rule we kinda get around to food when we get hungry enough, and that's typically not long before we get to bed. Once I'm back at work during the day, my time's going to be even tighter than it is now, and I'd like to get into eating at a more conventional time (as opposed to after all the bottles and formula are prepped and I'm already half asleep). But to make that happen, I think I'll have to step up to the plate and at very least do some serious meal planning ahead of time and get things started after work if the Bear's absorbed elsewhere. But we've gotten so lazy in recent years - even worse since Tweetie arrived - that our current concept of meal planning is making sure we have enough MREs from Costco in the freezer. That's not the only thing we eat, it's just the default when we're not inspired over what to run to the store and buy ingredients for at the last minute.
So, I'm looking for a little help. Some inspiration to jumpstart a good meal planning habit. My ideal criteria (though I'm open to lots of things that don't fit) is simple stuff, can be made in large portions and makes good leftovers, can be cooked with minimal attention after initial prep (so if I'm taking my turn I don't need to choose between burning dinner or neglecting Tweetie), few dishes used, and lots of simple, common ingredients we can keep as staples.

Send me what ya got!

Good day

2007-05-30T07:56:00.000-07:00

I absolutely love days like this. The sun is shining, but it's cool in the morning, so you've slept well and the air is fresh. If I could live my entire life in late May and June, I would. When I was a kid, of course, a big part of the attraction was school was almost done and my birthday was coming. Now, it's the long days, ensuring that whatever hours I'm working, I get to enjoy a bit of daylight, and I can wear cool, comfortable things in the office. Sandals. Perhaps even a loose skirt (for those of you in shock at that last item, yes, I do own one, and I actually do like wearing them if it's warm enough to skip the nylons).
Best of all, it's the kind of weather where I find it really easy, if you can find that moment, to enter into a place of grace and be still before the Lord.
That's how my day started. I woke up gently, that is without any urgent paging, and stretched awhile in bed in the vain hope that my feet would be functional by the time I got to the steps. Downstairs I let the dogs out and fished out a bottle for the still dreaming Tweetie. In the basement I dished out the dogs' breakfast and let them back in, then headed back up. Grabbed the warming bottle and a glass of juice for myself, then back up the main stairs to the nursery and my comfy feeding and prayer chair.
A short time of stillness and listening, then prayer for a couple of folks with big days ahead. (One goes for knee surgery today, the other's off work starting today to get ready for her wedding on Saturday - woohoo!) Not my longest or deepest time, but it felt just right for today, and it left me just time to get a good start on this post before Tweetie awoke. Actually. I was typing away and looked back over my shoulder to see to big beautiful eyes staring up at me. And when I looked back there erupted her great good morning smile. It bodes well for the rest of the day, so I'd best get on with it.
Hope you all have a good one, too!

Are you in there?

2007-05-23T22:53:00.000-07:00

These days are full of surprises and new developments. The surprises are cool and really scary all at the same time. Like when I put Tweetie down sometime this morning on the floor, pretty certain it was on her back. At this point she'll roll over, spin and push her way around the floor until she finds an obstacle, but I didn't expect to come back a minute later and find her sitting up in the corner! Bathtime found her exploiting the low-g environment of water to push herself from sitting to standing. And last week while the Goddess was here, Tweetie started saying something resembling 'khah-tah-khah-tah-kh' whenever either of our cats crossed her path. Of course, we then went to the Bear's dad's for almost a week where there were no cats, but a couple of nieces repeatedly asking, "Can you say 'cat?'" She fell quite silent, but seems to be warming up the vocal chords again since we came home. And it's still anybody's guess whether she'll walk or crawl first, as she's making steady progress on both. She even started grinding her five little teeth, which definitely surprised mem, though her dental hygienist aunt assures me it's nothing to worry about.
But tonight I added a new special moment that I just had to share. The Bear's out of town until the end of the week, and whenever we're apart we always check in at the end of the day to pray goodnight. Tweetie was asleep early tonight, and was still out when the Bear called, but a few minutes into the call she awoke in another small coughing fit. I picked her out of her crib to help her work it out, and when the coughing subsided briefly, I took the phone from my other shoulder and put it on speaker phone so we could keep talking. The Bear greeted Tweetie, and her face lit up with happy recognition, laced with a trace of confusion as she looked at the little speaking box.
I'd kinda suspected she was missing the furry face.

Don't miss the point

2007-05-23T08:40:00.001-07:00

This past Mother's Day was my first as a full-fledged mamma, and I naturally found myself looking back over the last eight months. In reflecting on how my life has changed and the things I've learned, one common thread was how often already we've needed to revise our plans for the ideal child-bearing and raising experience. It has come up in conversation with other moms as well, so I thought I'd put forth my thoughts on handling those changes for this week's Works for me Wednesday.
We all want to do the very best we can for these young lives in our care, and the lists of shoulds and ought tos start coming at us long before they're even born. They come from health care professionals, churches, media, advertisements, and just about every person we encounter. We did a lot of filtering, weighing all these lists against our own values and experiences to form our own plan. And then Tweetie arrived and brought her own reality. We've since had to revisit our ideas on breastfeeding, health management, development, boundaries and more.
A mom friend recently commented to me that I'm pretty laid back about all these changes, wondering how it is that I don't flip out like the other new moms. My response first had to include a confession. I do flip out, I just tend to do it quietly at home. And I pray a lot for peace and perspective. But from a strictly practical perspective, there's one thing that's helped a lot, especially when it comes to that all too common sense of failure.
When circumstances dictate that my plan or ideal can't be followed as I'd envisioned, I try hard to look at the big picture, especially the values and objectives behind the plan. What were the reasons we originally set this goal? Is the plan achieving what I'd wanted? Is the actual cost of following this plan - in time, money or impact on other objectives - in line with the value we put on this goal? Is there a change I can make that better serves all the values that our plans were based on? Sometimes one ideal gives way for something bigger. Sometimes we just find that we weren't so smart when we first thought of a given plan.
I've asked myself what were the reasons that I wanted to breastfeed Tweetie? How does continuing to nurse and pump meet that goal? Does the benefit of continuing outweigh the cost to other objectives, like spending time just playing with Tweetie? The inevitable answer was no, and while I'm still a little disappointed I know I made the right decision to switch her to formula. Later I asked what is my objective in starting early pottying? Am I still getting that benefit if we don't catch every pee or poop? Since reducing diapers and early 'graduation' were merely happy sidebars for me, it's been easy to relax and not worry if we have an off day in our communication (lots of those come with sickness or teething) or if other schedule needs mean I can't respond when I otherwise would (like when we're driving three hours to Calgary to catch a 2 hour flight home).
There are many big decisions and plans ahead of us in the years to come, and I expect I'll have to send myself back to read my own post a time or two. All I can suggest to you is to remember why you were trying to go down a given road in the first place, and make sure you don't miss the point. It usually works for me.

On the mend

2007-05-20T21:58:00.000-07:00

Tweetie's asleep in her playpen, bottles are washed and refilled for tomorrow, and, fool that I am, I'm up posting instead of catching some much needed z's.
I made brief mention of my head cold in my anniversary post. It came on quite suddenly, and for me it hit pretty hard, but didn't last too long beyond residual sniffles. Tweetie caught the same cold at the same time, having just gotten over the cold she got from her dad a few weeks before. She hasn't been as quick to kick it, probably because it's real hard to explain to a little person with no words to blow into a dry paper that feels like sandpaper on her little raw nose. The poor dear's had a rough go over the last couple of weeks, with the worst hitting right when we were travelling. We've been staying in the Hat with the Bear's dad for four days now, and this has been the first night with a relatively uneventful bedtime routine. With luck it will also be the first full night's sleep in a couple of weeks. Though she always tries her best to be happy, Tweetie was certainly in better spirits for most of the day today.
Methinks I'll get back to them z's now.

G'night

Out of the roaring silence

2007-05-15T07:06:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's been a little quiet here, and by here, I mean Gone Coastal. It's been anything but at home.

This may be a short post while everyone (most specifically Tweetie) is still asleep. Odds are good when Tweetie wakes she'll wake up crying, as she did a few times last night. I only had to tend to her the one time, and that was alright. For one, I was still up anyway, preparing formula, so it didn't involve that violent jolt from deep, sweet sleep to triage mode. And more importantly, it didn't take long to figure out why she was upset. A quick sweep of my finger in her mouth and I think tooth number five had poked through. I'll do a more thorough verification today sometime when my sweetheart's not crying out in agony.

Between teething and the headcold we shared the past week, there've been more overnight disruptions lately than I'm accustomed to. It all balances out as we learn more about who she's becoming. Besides, it keeps me mindful of our friends Shirtless and Tiny who are still in their first week with their first child.
And I've been having too much fun having the Goddess here with us to be bothered by it. I will blame the Goddess, however, for my not posting sooner. I've been yackin' with her in whatever spare moments come up in the day.
Saturday, we were off in Sidney with Raven, my Sunday art friend. We poked about in various galleries, and determined that the Sidney Gallery Walk brochure needs some serious updating. I think they should also add a bookstore tour, as that place is full of them. Sunday we hung around in the morning, walking the dogs, then went for a drive up the coast. It turned out to be a bit too cool on the exposed coast to do much exploring or puttering, but it was still a nice drive. Yesterday we hung around for the morning. I finally got the safety gate/fence fully installed across the living room while she was napping, and in the afternoon we went downtown for a bit and found more galleries and bookstores.
But the best part of such a visit is always the days long rambling conversations that let you air out the thoughts you've been chewing through on your own on things that matter in life. And sharing little experiences first hand with a like minded soul. Little experiences like watching Tweetie go from pushing along on her belly to lifting up on hands and knees on her own (had to get a little bragging in, didn't I?).
The Goddess is heading north again tomorrow, and we'll be heading east to the prairies till next week. Don't know when we'll get together again, but I'm sure it'll feel like too long. We're off to make the most of the sunshine today.
(By the way, Tweetie woke up quite gently after all, with a content little smile on her face. Tooth number five is all that much closer to the surface, but not quite through, and number six is lining up for its turn on the other side.)

We have arrived...

2007-05-10T10:15:00.000-07:00

...at the starting gate. ~~Today marks~~ Yesterday marked ten years of blissful marriage for the Bear and I. Okay, ten years of ups and downs, trials and triumphs. But ten very worthwhile years.
I don't remember the exact context, but somewhere in the last year I heard someone describe any marriage less than ten years as a 'starter marriage'. (Sadly, among a lot of folks I've worked with, that term is applied to their first, short-lived marriage. I'm thankful to not be in that situation). His point was that much of the first ten years is spent figuring things out. Looking back at all the lessons learned, about what's really important to us, how to understand each other, and what we really meant by all those things we said when we were dating, I'd have to agree there's a lot of truth to it.
We made it this far, and that's worth celebrating. We went out for a nice dinner, just the two of us. A big thanks goes out to our friends up the block for taking Tweetie for the evening, handling two eight-month-olds together. They look pretty cute together actually, and their son, being just over a week younger, often tries to copy Tweetie's tricks in the days following a playdate.
I often think I would've liked to have started our family sooner, but when I look at some of the ground we've covered in our marriage, and the refining work God's done in both of us in that time, I know that our little girl is already ahead, even if her parents are finding it harder to keep up these days. I hope to spend the next few decades building on this foundation, and I hope when Tweetie's grown and possibly ready to get married herself, we'll have provided something she can aspire to in her own marriage.
Here's to the journey!

Potty Master

2007-05-07T06:52:00.000-07:00

Okay, 'Master' is probably a little strong, but I'm her mom, alright. It's my job to applaud all the minutia of her accomplishments.

I started pottying Tweetie, and using what certain experts call EC (elimination communication) awhile back. Nothing real earth shattering there, it's just giving a consistent cue whenever you know she's going, and watching for her various cues, to help her be aware of what she's doing naturally. It's basically what a lot of our parents or grandparents did before we were told we should wait a couple of years - and hundreds of dollars more in diapers - for signs of readiness.

I got started with the help of a very useful book, The Diaper-Free Baby, at about six months. I'd looked at another book right at the start, at the bear's prompting, but it was a little over the top for me. This book was far more approachable, recognizing that we've all got a different capacity at different times for taking on these kinds of projects. Anyway, the first time I put her on her potty, she peed right away and gave me a big smile as she went, presumably for discovering that she could pee without feeling wet until the diaper soaked it up. 'This ain't so bad,' I thought, and we carried on from there.

Saturday was a bit of a red-letter day on this journey, as we made an IKEA run to the mainland, which meant we on the road and in public places pretty much the entire day. We pottied in about five different public toilets, and even had her first poop in a public potty!

I don't imagine we'll be out of diapers anytime soon. It's still far too easy for me to get caught up in something else and miss her cues. And that's just fine. EC'ing is mostly about keeping them aware of their elimination, not necessarily being free of diapers, though that will generally happen too much sooner. I am, however, looking at investing in a few cloth diapers as we get more consistent at certain times of day. Maybe when she can talk a bit and has a word to actually get my attention and ask to be pottied, we'll think about working towards graduation. In the meantime, it's not much different once you get into a routine, and the diaper pail is much lighter when you empty it, because very few diapers are really soaked. And all that aside, every poop that gets direct deposited without first needing to be scraped off her backside and that can be fully flushed away rather than ripening in the pail makes it TOTALLY WORTH IT!

I think Tweetie agrees, 'cause she's generally happier when we're in sync and has a pretty dry day.

Oh, and for those looking for the latest other minutia:

She's over 22lbs or 20 kg now
She's not really crawling, yet, but she does get more and more creative at navigating herself around the floor with a combination of rolling, spinning, and pushing on either tummy or belly. She has had a couple of moments where she's figured out how to keep her belly up, but hasn't quite coordinated the moving of knees and hands. She also did a hands and feet pose a couple of times.
She stands really well, and can hang on to the rail in her crib or playpen to support herself for quite awhile. Yesterday she actually migrated a little ways down the length of the crib, shifting hand over hand, and eventually letting her feet catch up. She's a little afraid to sit down without my help, though.
She's eating mushy solids twice a day, but that's another post entirely!
She put out her third tooth last Monday, and the fourth on the weekend. I think we're done now for a little while, as she invited my finger into her mouth again for a massage, which has been strictly verboten for weeks. With all this, of course, has come the introduction of her first toothbrush - with a picture of Tweetie Bird - which she's eager to help me use.
She does plenty of babbling, and the addition of those top teeth has added a few new sounds to her repertoire. Did you know it's hard to say 'teeth' without them? She does show signs of recognition of a few frequent words.
She's getting more and more control over her hands. On Friday at Costmo, she decided to wave at several nice looking strangers who gave her attention - not with her fingers, but with her whole arm. Very cute.

Work in progress

2007-04-26T15:12:00.000-07:00

Though we won't always admit it, even to ourselves, there are times when watching over a baby or small child can feel like watching paint dry. Except you can't leave the room or the paint will crack, or drip into the electrical outlet, or, if you're lucky, just get really messy.
I've started to recognize that for myself, this often comes when I'm tired. Okay, a little more overtired. Maybe the baby's been teething. Or she dozed for twenty minutes on a dogwalk and hence skipped what might have been a solid two hour nap. Or you were up late at night running a steam bath to soothe a croupy cough. Or maybe it wasn't even the baby. You just had paperwork to be finished by a deadline. Or some car on the next street has had its rotating car alarm set off in the wee hours three days in a row. Or the neighbours mophead dogs won't stop yapping. Or some national comm provider had a misprint on an ad and people from all across the states are calling your house at all hours, looking for a deal on voice over IP service.
Whatever the cause, I sometimes find myself sitting on the floor, legs apart as bumpers with her sitting somewhat upright between them, looking at her looking back at me, and thinking, "Now what?" She's been recently fed and changed, and yet she's unsettled, not content with the toys at hand, knowing somehow that I'm at a loss for any fresh entertainment. I run over and over the mental checklists, but there's nothing new in my mind.
Now I can't make her nap at will (wouldn't that be a big money skill) but whenever that next window comes, I need to think hard about setting aside my to-do list and just settling into that cozy chair, closing my eyes and letting a snooze take over for awhile. When I do that, I usually wake up a better mom. Sometimes even the briefest doze will refresh me, and I may even get to something on that list, like lunch.
And when she wakes and we resume the routine, my eyes are a little less fuzzy and I can see that this paint is no roll-on contractor job on another wall (no offence Jack), but just a little piece of a masterpiece in progress. I'm not the artist, but I get to add a few brush strokes here and there. And this is the highest quality artist oils (some miracle version with no fumes) so it dries very slowly. If my own brush strokes land in the wrong place, or my brush is dry and it just doesn't fill the space, the master is able to work it into the overall scheme. And if I let him guide my hands and fill my pallette, I can rest assured the end result will be a wonder to behold.

A prayer

2007-04-24T07:56:00.000-07:00

I have two sick babies at home right now. The Bear went for a long deep dive the other weekend with insufficient woolies and got a chill. Which left him wide open for the first bug he encountered back on dry land. Whether it's truly a nasty bug or it just got fully entrenched before his body could fight it off, he's been dragging his weary shell around for a week now.
Somewhere along the way, Tweety picked it up. It took me a couple of days and a rough night on her part to clue in, as she's also working on her two upper front teeth. Low-grade fever, crankiness, and reduced appetite are not unheard of during teething, and were all present at some point as she pushed the first two out. Vomiting, not so much. Fortunately, the Bear can talk and that gives me at least a clue to what she may be dealing with.
All that to say I've been spending time praying over both of them in recent days, but especially the one that fits nicely over my shoulder. Those captive moments spent holding her offer time for reflection, and after praying for healing and comfort I find myself praying things like this:

Lord, I pray that you would comfort her, that your presence would surround her when I'm not with her. And Lord I pray that that presence, your Spirit, would become familiar to her, long before she can understand in our 'intellectual' terms who you are.
You speak in your word of revealing your truths to little children, that the kingdom of heaven belongs to them, and even that we must become like them to enter your kingdom ourselves. Lord, I don't fully understand all that you mean by that. Please give me wisdom. Teach me. But above all, Lord, help me not to stifle that childlike trust and understanding in my little girl. Humble me, so as she grows and begins to speak and act from that place, I wouldn't simply dismiss her thoughts and actions as childish. Help me to listen to your voice in her.
Show me what I used to know.

In Jesus' name
Amen

The Bear awakes

2007-04-11T23:11:00.000-07:00

and joins the rest of us bloggers. Find my Bear on his very own blog at osok.ca.

A hat tip to the Badger for setting up the hosting.

All I want for Easter

2007-04-09T08:54:00.000-07:00

"...is my two front bottom teeth." Wish granted. The right hand mate was waiting this morning.

2007-04-08T21:58:00.000-07:00

We interrupt the previously half-written post to bring you this newsflash. She has a tooth! Which explains the fussiness, the many feedings punctuated by intermittent loud cries. Apparently cutting teeth is hard work, because she gave me a two and a half hour nap after fighting for a couple of hours to stay awake, and has downed two bottles since practically falling asleep in my arms close to her usual bedtime. She squawked again after sucking the last one dry - so I've got another on standby but I think sleep has finally won out for the night.
So, after about four months of practice, the first of many teeth has finally poked through. Now we'll see if there's any truth to the story that after the first, teething doesn't bother them so much until the molars come through. I'm not holding my breath, but we'll see. T's pretty tough all round anyhow - she did a face plant from a sitting position earlier today (right in front of me - I blinked) and only cried until the Bear made her laugh.

Be Still

2007-04-08T16:41:00.000-07:00

It was late January, I think. Sleeping through the night still meant I got a few end of day tasks done after putting T to bed and got more than my full four-hour cycle of sleep before getting up for a feed and putting her back to sleep and deciding whether a shower or more sleep was more important to me that day. I'd developed a habit of using those minutes feeding her when no-one else was around or awake to pray. Praying for missionary friends, concerns and issues I knew about, people I'd lost touch with, our new family. It was always a bonus when I found myself done whatever must do task I'd assigned myself for the current 'window' and was expecting the next call to duty sooner than would be useful for 'real work'.
I'd sit in the chair in the nursery and rattle off the list of prayer items, dwelling on persons or topics as I felt led. In the days after it happened, I knew I'd have to post about it, and I remembered all the details of the moment in my mind, but had no idea how to put it out there. Now the details are much fuzzier. I think I was particularly harried that day, as I was rattling far more than I dwelled. I think, in fact, I was more than a little overwhelmed with the chaos around me, the demands of motherhood, the tension between my roles as mother and wife. I took one of those bonus moments where there was a physical break in the day, and came before God in prayer. My thoughts tumbled forward in my mind. As I paused for just a second to catch my mental breath, two words came back.
Be still.
Be still, yes. I have to take advantage of these times to come before you Lord, to present my concerns, to lift up others in prayer.
Be still.
Yes. I must leave the laundry for now and the dogs will have to get walked in the afternoon because T will be up any minute. Should I go start a bottle warming while I wait?
Be still.
Yes, okay, leave the bottle. Yes, Lord. I know that you are God. That verse was in a song I knew as a young Christian. You are God and you're in control. Thank you. I know I couldn't do this without you.
Be still.
Yes. Set everything aside and talk to you.
Be still.

Oh.

For just a few moments, just long enough for it to sink in, I managed to just be still. In the next window I looked up the passaged I'd remembered, but soon forgot it again. The words echoed around me through the next week, and I took time again to search for the phrase in the word.
The passage that was familiar, the one I expected, the one I knew from songs, "Be still, and know that I am God,"came from Psalm 46:10. The psalm speaks of the Lord's protection, his power, his sovereignty. I was pretty comfortable with God being big enough for the challenges that come (not that I don't often need reminding in the storm).
There was also a reference in Nehemiah that didn't seem to apply, and references to stilling the storm. But then there was another psalm, and it stopped me short. "Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act.." The psalm speaks of trusting the Lord when it appears from our view, that things are not as they should be. It speaks of letting him guide you to do things his way, and wait patiently until he does whatever it is he has planned.
That sounds an awful lot like giving over to him the things I haven't dared to believe for. The hopes that seem too far off to ask for. The works in progress that I can't actually see progressing.

In the months since, I've tried to keep that perspective in mind. I've tried to take time to be still, not just sitting still in my chair, but still in my mind. I thought of it again this weekend as I attended Good Friday and Easter services with a seven month old child. Your focus is not entirely (not even close) on the speakers and events before you. It reminded me that even as we look to connect with a local congregation again, the responsibility to take time to listen for God's direction for me, as often as I can, is mine alone.
Here I am. I'm listening.

Spoilage

2007-04-05T16:14:00.000-07:00

I'm itching to get to some of the other posts in my head, but I really must start by giving kudos to the Bear for arranging for me to be spoiled rotten yesterday afternoon.
It all started before Christmas, where we were headed for a second buy nothing season. But I made a suggestion that maybe avoiding material gifts might still allow for a little treating, hinting broadly that I could really use a massage to soothe those freshly developed mommy muscles. Those of you who know the Bear know he never does anything half-@ss, so I really shouldn't have been surprised when he got me a certificate for a half-day spa retreat! The only thing that's kept me from using it these past three months, of course, has been finding half a day.
So, when my MIL was planning to come down to the nearby mainland to visit her newest grandson, the Bear enticed her to come over for a few days to help sort out the piles that have kept the living area far from a child safety showcase (need to find the floor before you can install that fence and gate ;). And while she was here, she could watch the baby for the afternoon while I was being babied.
I was up early, had all the creatures fed, the trio walked, and Tango bathed in the tub. Queued her up to doze off in the car en route so she'd sleep awhile for grandma. Then the indulgence began. It started with a light lunch, followed by a full-body aromatherapy massage and wrap, a facial, and a hair styling to finish things up. Very relaxing. I was so relaxed by the time it came to the hair, I gave the stylist free reign to play (there were no scissors involved, so if I really didn't like it, I'd just wash it out).
If I were to go back and pick just one thing to do again (and again, and...) it would be the massage. Of course, I could also be talked into trying some of the other massage options offered, and I haven't tried the hydrotherapy, or any hands or feet options (perhaps a foot treatment?). And if I should someday find myself in maternity clothes again, you can bet I'll be fishing for the Expectant Mothers' Retreat.
Funny thing, I seemed to be much more in tune with T today - catching the cues left, right and center. Either that or she enjoyed the little break from her wound-up mommy and was thus more clear in her cues. Perhaps a bit of both? All 'round, it was a very good thing.

Thanks for a great day, Bear!

So many bloggables...

2007-04-05T12:52:00.000-07:00

... so little time. But as a teaser for my loyal readers (have I lost either of you yet?) watch for the following in posts coming soon (and in no particular order):

A slice of heaven
the Potty Post
Fun with food
Be still
Connecting
Construction
Drawing to a close

Yeah, it's been busy 'round here, but things are good, and I hope to talk to you all some more soon!

Reflecting

2007-04-02T08:04:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I attended a funeral. A former colleague had passed away from a sudden illness. I never worked closely with him, having only a few overlaps where I was tasked with something he had worked on previously, or vice versa. But you didn't have to work closely, or very long, around this man to appreciate his dedication, his warmth or his sense of humour. This was evidenced by the incredible turnout for the service: standing room only at the reception hall of the golf club where he was a member. They had to open the back doors and overflow into the common area of the restaurant. Colleagues, both from his current and former careers. Family. Golfing buddies. People he grew up with. Many from out of town.
The service was a wonderful celebration of his life. Those who spoke shared many stories of his humour, and how he treated everyone around him, whatever their role or abilities, with equal respect. He will be missed.
To my knowledge, he has never known the Lord.

No Pictures, But Great Memories

2007-03-29T12:38:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm home again and pretty much recovered from our travels last week. We arrived home Monday night, having spent a riveting three hours waiting to get on the ferry. I actually read all the questions on the touristy forestry display, and Tango helped me turn the little log slices around to read the answers (have I mentioned she's a pretty strong girl for under 7 months?).

Since we left the Okanagan Sunday, I've had so many photographable moments (can you call them Kodak moments when you don't use film anymore?) Sadly, it was en route to my mom's that night (4 hours too late) that we realized the camera was still at our friends' place, on the piano. Otherwise, I'd be able to share with you pictures of the Bear's mounted buck (a good size - we've still got sausages from two years ago) riding in the passenger's seat of the truck. That got a few double takes along the road, and some folks we met on the ferry posed with him. There'd also be a picture of my little clone demonstrating an early capacity for multi-tasking: holding her bottle up with the crook of her elbow so her hands were free to play with a toy. I'm sure it was a pure accident that she pulled that off, but it was worth a good laugh! There'd perhaps be a (tastefully cropped) shot of her reaching behind to the flush handle from her potty seat. She was probably looking for a shower curtain, which is her favourite bathroom distraction at home, but she still used it right when I gave her the chance.
And lest you think this is a proud mama with rose-colored glasses post, I might also have tried to capture an audio clip to highlight her new vocal skills. Seems that all the extra social attention she received last week went to her head, and on our first day home again, while I was still pretty fuzzy, she decided to voice her objections to having just me to entertain her - which means entertaining herself at least some of the time. Jem, our Okanagan host, got to hear a live rendition over the phone. It's the first time she's combined all the babbling - which increased with all the conversations she sat in on last week - with crying, and it sounded rather comical at first. "MBwah-mbah-mwah-mbah-...."
The only thing there'd be no pictures of would be the great party we all had Saturday night to celebrate anniversaries. We were too busy laughing ourselves silly! A great time was definitely had, and I'm hoping we can all get together again soon.
But now, I must pick up my little diva and take her for her six month shots, which we missed before the trip. Perhaps we'll learn a new song on the way...

Road Trip!

2007-03-19T15:51:00.000-07:00

So, since the addition of Tango to our clan, we've made a few hops off of our island, mainly to my mom's and back, and she's been a pretty good traveller all things considered. This week put her to a real test, though. We were heading inland. It seems that whenever we have a chance to go somewhere inland, there've been a list of things accumulating that we 'oughtta take care of the next time we're out that way.'
This trip is no different. We have our family wagon to be serviced in the interior, the Bear's bachelor days sports car, 'The Rocket', to be picked up and trailered from there to the Kootenays til it can be restored and sold, work for the Bear to do in the Kootenays, and of course lots of visiting back in the interior.
Day One. Drive two vehicles with a week and a half worth of baby care and entertainment supplies, several bags and bins of work gear and a generator keeping the pickup well-weighted, two dogs and their requisite gear to my mom's on the mainland. Mom's looking after the hounds while we're away, so everyone there'll get their exercise. The ferry trip is old hat by now, and the break in the middle of the drive makes it relatively easy on Tango. She successfully tested out the high chairs in the buffet. It was a hit, 0r at least she thought the rail was rather tasty!
Day Two. Drive the same two vehicles, minus the canines, to the interior. Pickup a trailer, fetch and load the rocket on said trailer (which unfortunately involved a locksmith) and squeeze in a little visiting. Pushed past several rest stops as she was still quiet in back. Finally decided to stop about an hour short of our goal - by this time I had to pee - and changed and fed her. Unfortunately, she wasn't too keen on getting back in the car and fussed a fair bit on the last leg and after every stop we had to make once in town. Pretty relaxed once the driving was done, though.
Day Three. Convoy the family wagon behind pickup towing trailered HSPPV (ask the Bear) to the dealership and drop off the family wagon. (Yes, this means that all the baby and travel gear is now stuffed into the tiny sports car cockpit) She obliged by filling her diaper before we left the dealership so no-one had to endure foul odours while we searched for a trailer-friendly pull-out on a one-lane highway later on (that's my girl - always considerate). Now, Tango likes riding in the truck. She gets to be up front (not much of an option, there) instead of alone in the back seat. And apart from showing signs of hunger a little sooner than we were able to stop, she was pretty cooperative. She'd just watch everything that was happening. And sampled a little finger-tip of garlic coil when the bottle wasn't available. "Interesting."
We are getting signs that she may be a little too smart for our own good. One of these came when we got to the little ferry crossing en route. She'd finally had her bottle and was free now to get out of her seat for a stretch. I was going to take the opportunity to change her, and handed her over to the Bear in the driver's seat so I could get geared up for the job. He picked her up, sat her on his lap, and I swear within two seconds she had both hands on the wheel, trying to turn it and, by the look on her face, wondering why it didn't move the way it did when Dad worked it. A very dangerous sort of girl.
The trip out ended with perfect timing. The Bear's family had got back to their place just a short while before us, as had their friend with the backhoe clearing the several feet of snow off the driveway. Rocket and engine were safely unloaded and we all came in to warm up.

In a few days we'll start the trip, a little more lightly loaded, in reverse, stopping in the interior for a few days and celebrating anniversaries with some good friends. Any excuse for a party, right?

Laundry

2007-03-01T09:32:00.000-08:00

You know you're behind when your siamese determines that the heap on the floor beside the bed is more inviting for a nap than the sunspot on the duvet over the memory foam.

Growth Spurt

2007-03-01T08:12:00.000-08:00

You more experienced parents out there know that, just as these little ones have physical growth spurts - greatly increasing their consumption to support a speedy bit of growing, they also have developmental spurts, where all of a sudden there's a whole pile of new skills and behaviours in their repertoire.
Lately, Tango's been doing both. She's now over 19 pounds or 8.5 kilos, and as best as I can measure as she squirms around, she's 27.5 inches or 70 cm. I think only the boy 'round the corner is bigger than her at this point. (His mom and I were dubbed the Amazon women by one of the other moms at Baby Talk the other week.
But the fun part, of course, is all the new stuff she does. She rolls over on her own now - mostly onto her tummy. She'll spin on the floor, too. She's been doing that for awhile, finding her turned around in the morning in her crib, but she's getting much more efficient and deliberate about it. Harder to describe how she gets better at manipulating things (that's 'things' not 'moms', though the Bear might argue that :). The other day she was just looking at her hands, a toy in one, and rotating them: clockwise, counter-clockwise, clockwise, ... She'd look down at her hands intently with this look of concentration, "Hey, they move that way, too." She sits with support, but would rather use you for leverage to roll or reach to her next target. If you pull her to sitting from lying down, she'll push up to standing while you hold her hands, and she'll stand on her own with just a finger. The Bear says he had her supporting herself against the couch the other day. But my most favouritest new development is self-feeding with the bottle. The first few docking attempts were great to watch, as she bounced the nipple around nose, cheeks and chin before finally stretching her mouth wide enough to snag the tip with her lips and reel it in. She's improved with every 'round and yesterday she not only executed a perfect dock, but she continued to hold the bottle for the full feed.
She's far more interested in checking out everything around her, especially textures, she'll scratch at the material on the chair or your clothes. Even happy to meet new people and be passed around so long as mom's around when a need arises. And showing signs of recognizing words and phrases, with a few good babble sessions whenever the recorder isn't around. The first phrase recognized is repeated a lot. "Let go."
Go, girl!

It's a Nephew!

2007-02-20T17:28:00.000-08:00

Congrats go out to the Bear's brother and his wife on their second son, who arrived early this morning. A little early, but we saw them on the weekend and I think his mom would consider that right on time!

Commissioned

2007-02-19T08:23:00.000-08:00

As I said in my last post, we were on the mainland this weekend. We were there to see off some friends, the last couple from our MAF candidacy class to head out to the field. Walt and Ev Driediger are headed for Botswana this week to begin a four year assignment. They held a send-off event - a Flight Fiesta - on Friday night at their home church near Chilliwack, and commissionings at both services. We went to the Fiesta and their Saturday evening service. We had the chance to meet the family they're leaving behind, including four married kids, six grandkids and two more on the way.
Walt is an Aircraft Maintenance Engineer, and will be helping to keep the planes in good working order and possibly taking part in training nationals. Ev is a nurse, recently retired, and hopes to become involved with the extensive HIV/AIDS ministry. Both were involved in the ministry of the Christian Motorcyclists Association (there were a lot of CMA jackets and vests at the Fiesta). They'll be working with one of MAF's partner organizations, Flying Mission. And we are a part of their team, supporting them both with finances and with critical prayer support and encouragement. That's a role I've begun to appreciate the significance of as I've connected with the others already in the field. The power of an encouraging word from home, a reminder that they're not forgotten after the send-off, is huge.
Walt and Ev will be leaving early Tuesday afternoon and travelling for nearly two full days to Gabarone. If you find them on your heart, say a prayer, but I encourage you also, if you know of folks in the field, maybe people you prayed or encouraged before they left or are supporting financially, lift them up, too. And I challenge you to let them know you're still with them. Send them an e-mail, or better yet, a real letter or package by snail mail, something they can hold in their hands. Even if you don't hear back, it's worth the effort.

A Night Out Without

2007-02-18T07:28:00.000-08:00

That's right. Without T.
We're on the mainland this weekend, staying at chez mom. Which meant when we got home last night around T's bedtime but having not eaten yet ourselves, we could tuck her in and zip out for dinner by ourselves, knowing Mor-Mor was there to watch over her.
It was our first dinner out just the two of us since she arrived and it was well worth it, even if it meant starting formula prep at eleven when we came home and having her wake up hungry (she never wakes up anymore 'til morning) when I came to bed and feeding her not one but TWO bottles before she was ready to sleep again.
Thanks, Mom!

Post-partum review

2007-02-15T22:07:00.000-08:00

I go to a 'Baby Talk' session at the local health unit on Mondays. It's mostly a chance for moms to get together and compare notes, facilitated by a public health nurse, with different topics. Last week they had a guest from the Queen Alexandra Foundation for Children, speaking on self esteem, for both parents and children. It was all moms and babes this week (no dads), and we never actually got to discussing the kids.
We were listing some of the things that defined us before starting families, and the mom next to me brought up mental stability, a reference to postpartum depression. I turned to her and quietly said 'Thank you.' I spoke with her briefly afterward. She had experienced PPD requiring medication with her first child. Thankfully she had fared much better with her second, who is just a little younger than T. Though I'd shared some of my experiences here, it was the first time it had come up among the moms I've met here. In the general chatting that always follows, I added two more moms to that list. A significant number in the group I spoke with, but none of us had known about the others.
One mom who lives up the street from me, whom I'd got to know a little, had just recently realized that she had been suffering because she started to come out of it. It took a week of feeling somewhat good and 'normal' again for her to recognize where she'd been. And I hadn't recognized it in her.
I was well aware of the 'phenomenon' of postpartum depression. There was info in our prenatal class materials, in the Baby's Best Chance book from the government, in the hospital, from the public health nurses. All the bulletins speak of the statistics, what it means, when to call someone. But there was nothing about what anyone would or could do if you did call. I recognized it in myself as being more than just the 'baby blues'. Mostly because I'd been there before. Not postpartum, but depression. As a teenager I went through a long period of deep, suicidal depression. The packaging was different, but much of the emotions were familiar. I felt worthless. Unlovable. Helpless. Alone. Instead of hanging around the junior high band room after hours, I'd be early for every doctor's appointment, and take T to the health unit to weigh her, clinging tight to even the subtlest word that I was okay and meeting muster. I'd log in to the work system regularly so as not to let go of my former world and identity, or miss any opportunity for a social connection.
As a teenager, I reached a point where the mere fact that I was still alive was evidence to me that this God I'd been getting to know had other plans for me. That was the big hand up that started my climb out of the mire, and set me on a path to following Christ. This time, one thread I was able to hang on to was the knowledge that, no matter how ill-equipped I was, this little life in my arms was dependent on me, and faced with that I looked back on the promises I'd been given before we embarked on the path toward parenthood.
By God's grace, this was not a long journey. Weeks of dark days became days with dark hours, and slowly, weeks with not so shiny periods. But as hard as it was, I also learned from it. As I came to God in prayer for strength and comfort, he'd lift me up and show me what I'd carried into the pit. I saw pride, a feeling that I was above depression and the things that came with it, and therefore above others who continued to struggle with it. Being in that place also reminded me of the irrationality of depression, and the way it distorts your perception, filling me with grace for others who struggle around me.
This excellent post at Rocks in My Dryer provides a description of that author's depression as a wilderness experience. I really appreciated her perspective, as did the thirty-some readers who posted comments, who knows how many more from the silent majority.
I've written this post because of the women at the mom's group who went through their postpartum alone, thinking they were the only one, or at least not knowing who the other statistics right beside them were. But I also hope it will give other Christians cause to examine our perspective on depression, especially amongst other Christians. I still have rough days, times when I fight back the tears, but now they're in proportion to the challenges of being a new parent. I pray that I'll not forget what the Lord has done in my own wilderness.

Small Victories

2007-02-06T09:32:00.000-08:00

She let me paint this morning! For about an hour her first feed. She won't always go back to bed after the first bottle, and lately it's definitely been the exception. But today she did and I was able to zip downstairs, ignoring the pitiful hounds, and do my homework assignment for my acrylics class tonight.
I warned the instructor last class that I couldn't guarantee that I'd get a window to work at home, and I was starting to think it'd be a self-fulfilling prophecy after trying most of the day yesterday to get back to the workspace (the long lost kitchen table) I'd cleared for our Sunday session. I would've been happy with even an incomplete project, just to be able to apply some of what we were learning, but it's all done.

The paint is drying downstairs, and I think I'll get out of my PJs now before she wakes up. Have a colourful day.

Princess Pout

2007-02-04T21:05:00.000-08:00

She's sleeping, out for the night. She did have a refreshing smiley stretch before bedtime, but not before I captured that pitiful lower lip for posterity.

The nap

2007-02-04T18:07:00.000-08:00

Finally.

We'll see how long it lasts. It's been a very long day. T's been unusually hard to soothe. When we got up this morning she was not unhappy, but neither was she at all interested in going back to her crib. We had some floor time and played for awhile, I had my breakfast, and eventually she was ready for another bottle. I was hoping to get a bit more cleaning done this morning, as our Sunday art day was at my place today. But she wasn't content to be in her chair, even beside me as I worked for more than 20 minutes at a time, so most of what did get done was done one-armed with her in the other, fussing. Finally after her third bottle, I did get her to lie in her crib for about half an hour while I cleared off the table for a workspace. I don't think she was asleep for much of it, though.
As for how long it lasted, she's crying again. Sigh. It seems the rest of this will be typed one-handed again.
Today's art 'project' was finger painting, which we had great fun with. The whole idea was to do something to break the mental barrier, because who expects to make a masterpiece with tempera paints on the kitchen table. I'd say it was a great success, because we played with different ideas and made a beautiful mess. Well, I didn't play all that much, because, again, T was only content to watch for about twenty minutes before needing a bottle, a carry or a gum massage. My friend made what we'll call an accidental masterpiece, an eagle in flight that emerged as the happy result of a transfer print experiment.
T took a short snooze after as we walked to La Collina for tea and a bite, but woke up stinky shortly after we sat down (about ten minutes) so we didn't linger.
Her gums have been bugging her, so she gets hungry and cries, but she won't finish her bottle. And I know she's tired because she gives me all the signs, even nodding off while feeding (it was very cute at one feed because she dozed off and dropped her mouth open, I took the bottle away but you'd still see her tongue moving to suck and swallow as her eyes slowly closed.) But she hasn't stayed asleep for any length of time. If she sleeps 'on' me I can't do much in the way of moving without waking her up, which today seems as often as not to trigger another round of tears. If I manage to put her down without starting something she doesn't stay there long. At the moment, she's asleep against my chest, sitting on my arm, which I've managed to prop up on the edge of my drawing table as I type.
We took a walk 'round the block sans stroller about an hour or so ago, which settled her for awhile until we came around the corner towards home again. I can only hope for a slightly earlier night (but still late enough that it doesn't translate into an early morning;). I'm off to try to finish the banana bread I started three hours ago.
I'm glad not all days are like this.
Here's the other masterpiece we produced today, a mother-daughter collaboration:

Pondering Grace

2007-01-24T22:55:00.000-08:00

This is one of those posts that's been brewing for awhile, but now I find I'm not sure where to start. Understanding and growing in God's grace has been a theme for me lately. Consciously since around the holidays, but I think that's only when I started to recognize a work that's been in progress for awhile (how old am I now?).

I've been reading a book I picked up a couple of months ago, Tender Mercy for a Mother's Soul. It was about Christmas or so that I got into the two chapters that deal specifically with grace. It's definitely something I needed to ponder.

I think my understanding of grace has been fairly limited. Safe. Rather like the way it's used of extended deadlines and such, "There's a 7-day grace period." Cutting you a little slack when you're capable but you just didn't quite get there as quick as you'd hoped. But motherhood, and some of the writing in this book, has shown me that I've had and I need a so much more all encompassing kind of grace. It's shown me more than anything I've ever done, ever tried to do, or even ever failed at, how very insufficient I am in my own strength and abilities to be the parent, the mentor, the wife, the full woman I long to be, and at the same time how fully sufficient God's grace is to allow me to do what needs to be done, leave what needs to be left for a time, and be at peace about it. God's grace is for when you're entirely unable.

Grace is there when I'm sure one day I'm overindulging my baby girl, wrapped tight around her tiny fingers, and the next day that I'm neglecting her and my priorities are all wrong because she'll grow up too fast and I'll miss it if I don't spend every waking minute actively engaged with her. I can find peace. Grace brings me back to earth, to my knees, when I let my fears race years ahead and I want to quit because of all the things I can't believe I'll be able to handle in keeping a marriage and family healthy. Grace gives me courage to follow the teaching of the Word when it runs counter to some of the strongest values that I was raised with, and then lets me see the truth come alive in my life. Grace draws me back over and over to Jesus to fill my cup, that I can then overflow with grace to those around me that I once relied on to be my source.

I need to say, lest I give a false impression, that this is an ongoing lesson. These are my reflections in the calm quiet at the end of the day, but I struggle to recognize and receive grace through every hour of the day. But that's really what grace is about anyway. The Lord said to Paul, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Notice: Bear on Duty

2007-01-23T16:05:00.000-08:00

So, tonight I'm starting an evening class at the local art college. It's an intro course in acrylics, and I'm looking forward to actually developing some technique in a medium. Those who know me artistically know that I'm prone to doing something completely different with every project I start and improvising as I go. But more even than the chance to learn and create, this will be the first scheduled thing I've done without T at my side. Apart from a handful of spontaneous brief escapes when she was quiet or sleeping and the Bear was around to keep an eye or ear out for her, she's gone everywhere I've gone for the last four and a half months.
And of course this means the Bear is on duty tonight, and every Tuesday for the next ten weeks. I'm trying to lay out everything for him, and I'm sure he and T will do just fine, but he's a bit apprehensive. So if you should happen to read this tonight and you feel so led, say a prayer for the Bear on his first shift.

12-18 months

2007-01-23T08:02:00.000-08:00

Right.
This won't be news to anyone who's already got kids, or has tried to buy clothes for someone else's kids. Sizings for baby clothes are fairly arbitrary and seemingly random.
I got my first taste of this before T arrived, as I was sorting the great bounty of stuff we were given. Sorting the sleepers by actual, physical size, I had things marked as 12 months that were smaller than some marked 3 months.
Well, last week I had to do a bit more shopping. I'd noticed that several of the pants she had without feet were pulling up to her knees when she was sitting (something she's practicing a lot these days, with a little support). So, we went down to Abra-Kid-Abra, a great little new and used kids store. Fortunately, my eye for size has improved, and I can now look at things on the rack before looking at size labels and get a pretty good idea of what's going to fit (or be a little big, as all parents know is best until they get old enough to protest).
She got two used tops, and a pair of used jeans, (for $6 each - woohoo), and one new pair of pants 'cause they were way too cute. They all fit her nicely, just a little loose with room to grow. And they were all labeled 12 months or 12-18 months. She's only 4 1/2 months old! She's not a tiny girl, never was, but she's not that big.
Whatever.

When God made me . . .

2007-01-10T21:24:00.000-08:00

He gave me a really great thumb! It hooks so nicely in the corner of my mouth, just the right size when my gums hurt, and I can always find it when I need it!

New Year's Revolution

2007-01-03T22:09:00.000-08:00

I don't know about any of you, but I've never been big on resolutions. Building up to the one big day of the year when you should suddenly be able to conquer your bad habits, and establish all the good ones you've been lacking. What is it about changing over to a new calendar that makes people put all that pressure on themselves?
But it's hard to avoid at least thinking about what you'd like to do, and what you wish you'd done in the past year, and in thinking of it this year I was reminded of a truth. If we've made a mess of things today, we don't have to wait until next year to start fresh. We've got a God who is faithful, even when we're not, and we can come to him to clean our slate, and give us strength to move through the consequences and try again. His mercies are new every morning.
So, I propose that rather than thinking of this as just the one day to start a new year, think of it as the first (now the fourth) of a whole year of new days. Have a Happy New Day's Year.

Thankful

2007-01-03T10:52:00.000-08:00

I'm thankful for a lot of things, though it seems far to rare that I take the time just to be so. Not even so much the act of saying thank you, but reflecting on the good things we have, and those people and things that make the tough parts not so bad.
Today I'm particularly thankful that our baby girl is not inclined to be a screamer. She seems to have a bug of sorts the last few days, likely something she picked up in our weekends travels, and so she's let us know in no uncertain terms that's she's uncomfortable. Far more persistent and screeching than her typical boredom babble or feed me call. But still, not unbearable. What's far worse is not being able to do anything about it, to know she's unhappy and uncomfortable, possibly in pain, and I can't fix it or even help her understand what's happening.
But in all humble honesty, I'm mostly thankful that in fighting this bug, she's choosing to sleep a lot rather than cry it out. At least I can then distract myself with the list of accumulated tasks on the to do list. I took her out to the park with the dogs around noon, and then dropped the dogs off and walked with her to the bank while the skies were patchy blue and dry. She was awake and talking a bit as we came back up the block, and I was sure I'd be warming a bottle within minutes of coming through the door, the request coming through in force the moment the stroller stopped moving. But I brought her carrier in and put her down on the floor, and then grabbed a muffin while I could, and made a pitstop at the bathroom, still anticipating the urgent onslaught. But she's still sleeping. In fact, she's still in her carrier, and I've finished cleaning out the guest room for the Bear's stepdad, finally run a mop over the living room, and now made a post to the blog.
If I didn't know the rest was good for her, I'd probably feel guilty. As it is, I'm looking down at her as I type, offering up little motherly prayers, and wondering if I should grab a bottle and unbuckle her soon.
Sweet dreams.

Classic

2006-12-25T19:38:00.000-08:00

This classic wearable statement came under our tree courtesy of the Bear's brother and his wife. A bit hard to see in this pic, but worth the closer look. Too funny not to share, especially with all the geeks among my readers. Thanks J & M!

Christmas again...

2006-12-23T16:44:00.000-08:00

About a year ago, we got a very special present Christmas Day.
A little blue plus confirmed that a new life was on its way.
Seing six double yolks out of six that same morning
had us rather worried. Was this a (not so) subtle warning?

Mom, your four-legged grandkids love to visit you.
But what would you say if I told you you'll soon have one with two?
Boss, got time for coffee? I've a little something to share.
When this current project wraps up, I'll be busy elsewhere.

A last trip just the two of us, at least the last for awhile.
South end of the Yucatan, in a cabana with style.
The Bear dove while I snorkeled (sigh) in the hurricane battered reef.
But where can I find enough food 'round here to fill me for two? Good grief!

'Round the office, "Is she really?" "I don't think so." "Are you sure?"
Many didn't believe it until the sneak peak pictures were
posted on the wall, with my all-time favourite among quotes.
Said Bear at the stretched out foot, "Can't be mine, it's got five toes!"

Come Easter, a hop to the interior, a wedding with old friends,
and a chance to show in person the growing evidence.
But a note came while we were gone, our rented house is on the market.
Just two weeks to close a deal? Our awesome broker hit the target!

There'll be no need to move now when I'm seven months or more.
But now that it's actually ours, there's so much work in store.
There's the deck and the windows, the furnace, the fridge, the latches and doors...
First job back then were the deck stairs, just today Bear stained two doors.

A couple more trips to the old house, hoping to sell it quick.
A new bath to appease the buyers, but finally the deal did stick.
I tried throughout gestation to stay active every day;
At the end of April (5 months plus) I waddled the T-C 10K!

In May I noticed something somewhat familiar across the street.
"We seem to have something in common." It was time for the bellies to meet.
Later, a bump on our boxer's elbow grew too big to ignore.
Tumor removed, stitches thrice split, but the mast cells are no more.

In June for my birthday came my mom, and with her came her man.
He and the Bear framed the nursery windows beautifully as planned.
He lent some tools for the other work, like rebuilding the deck out back.
(Now they, too, have a new house to work, so his tools are back on the rack).

Our two big dogs: it soon got fun to keep them walking daily.
Amusing, I'm sure, to see them dragging me and my growing belly.
The daily routine got slower as well, and my days I had to keep short.
I worked from home as the project allowed, letting catnaps become a new sport.

Late in July a shower for me - the blessings from colleagues abound.
A few days later I started my leave, a new role soon to be found.
Mid-August, eight days before baby is due, my mom and her man were to marry.
To stay or to go? Would the baby be born in Vancouver? or maybe the ferry?

Our neighbors, due ten days before us, shared in the waiting game.
Two days past our due date, that's twelve past theirs, came a girl, Mikaya by name.
For ten days more our little one teased - maybe today?... tomorrow?
And finally scheduled to be induced, no more time to borrow.

One last chance the day before, to see if she'd get the point,
The acupuncturists needles placed to start some action in the joint.
By morning things were moving, in the afternoon I laboured
So, September 8th Trinity came, and the Good Lord showed us favour.

A blur of feedings, burps and naps, the epic ups and downs.
But our baby girl is growing strong, a beautiful gift all 'round.
I watch her breathe, and she breathes into me a longing to fan into fire
The creative embers, and to help her seek for her own life God's desire.

There are changes, too, for the working Bear, with his steady day job ending.
While the road ahead's uncertain now, recent winds have meant plenty of mending
Of radio towers and plenty of hours keeping the generators fed.
And building a name along the way. To new prospects he's being led.

By the time I post, it will be for most of you just into Christmas Eve.
And for some far away it is nigh Christmas Day. It is almost too much to believe
What a road we have traveled - for our friends I now marvel, God's blessings on each of you who
Held us up through the tears, in the blessings shared cheers, and allowed us to hearten you too.

I think I'm all rhymed out now, so I'll close this with our sincerest wishes for a blessed Christmas and a wondrous 2007. Here's our Christmas family photo to close - not picture perfect, but it's definitely us...

We were not idle

2006-12-14T23:19:00.000-08:00

In his second letter to the Thessalonians, Paul admonishes his readers to work hard and not let their hands be idle. I'd say the Bear's got this one down pat lately. Since he lost his 'day job' about a month and a half ago, he's been picking up what work he can with the competition on a contract basis, and working hard enough at that to bring some increased business for them as well. He's also been tracking down other options to build up opportunities with other clients for himself and scoping out deals on the tools he'll need.
But when there's no paying work to be had, the Bear's been busy tackling the many small and not so small issues that come with a nearly century old house. The first and biggest job was one we tried to get 'the pros' to do over the summer, but finally got going once the Bear started the work himself. That was replacing the furnace with a heat pump and rerunning most of the duct work. The furnace is now in the corner and the ductwork neatly run along the basement walls. With 6 foot ceilings, that has greatly reduced the incidence of smashed head syndrome, as well as eliminating the fire hazard that was the exhaust pipe running across the room just above knee height, and the ugly spaghetti of dead end ducts.

Of course for this work to happen, we had to move a pile of boxes and stuff upstairs to the spare room so there'd be space to work. Which means the next job is sifting through all those boxes before we bring them down again, with the idea being we bring a lot fewer boxes back down and a lot of crap goes out the door! These shelves were put up to keep those that do come down in some sort of order.

And with the duct work being vastly improved, a couple of old air returns were no longer needed. The antique cast iron cover on the one was pretty, but being right in the middle of the hall by the front door, it was a dust trap and a tripping hazard. Here's the crisp new floor patch. With a little help from the dogs we won't need to do as much staining to match the old floors ;). (We're pretty sure the floors are original - ninety-some years old - as the Bear was pulling out square nails as he prepped the holes for the patches.)

Then there is the replacement of a number of old doorknobs with nice lever handles. They're very handy for opening with elbows and knees when arms are full of baby. While he was at it, he realigned a few doors so they'd actually close and latch properly (particularly appreciated in the bathroom), and put in new weather stripping for the exterior doors.

Still on the list is replacement of a number of interior doors (once nice solid wood doors now buried in ten or more coats of cracked, multicolored paint) with these fresh solid pine doors he found at a bargain promo price. The divided lite french door on the left is staying; it's still pretty in spite of some damage done by a certain canine (grrr).

And one of my favourite additions, we now have five lovely pegs to hang coats on, instead of the one knob at the bottom of the stair rail.

He's one up on Red Green: handsome and handy!

A gift.

2006-12-09T22:59:00.000-08:00

So we had our first designated artist afternoon last Sunday. We made a couple of things to hang on a mobile for T. With some luck I'll get one or two more done so there could actually be something resembling a mobile instead of just two hangy thingies. But my friend and I agreed that it was good just to do something. And fun to play with Fimo while T watched from her bouncy chair across the table. But it was a way to get over the inertia.
Taking the momentum forward, I completed a pencil drawing this week for a thank you card. Monday I did some sketching, figuring out the composition and the angles, then picked it up again on Wednesday between feeds, etc., working on the real thing. I enjoyed the process and was pretty happy with the result - I haven't done a lot of serious pencil drawing (lots of sketching and scribbling, just not taking it to a finished project with pencil alone).
As I drew nearer to the end result, I found myself wanting to hang on to it rather than give it away, even though it was conceived from the start for someone else. I settled for taking a picture of it for myself, and for my portfolio, should I never need such a thing again, but still felt reluctant to not have it for myself. [Funny thing, since I've become a mom, the expression "they're like my children" doesn't seem to ring nearly so true]. And then this afternoon I was reflecting on a song, and the Christmas season. The song, by Nichole Nordeman, was not a Christmas song per se, but asked a question common to the season.

How can I thank You?
What can I bring?
What can these poor hands lay at the feet of the King?

And I was reminded that everything I have comes from God. Including the talents that allow me to create art. So what I create isn't mine, and I create and give it away as I feel led. It's not mine to worry about once it's done. I needn't worry if it's liked or appreciated or even seen, whether it speaks to someone, whether it provides encouragement or hits a raw nerve, whether someone will notice certain details carefully incorporated, or the signs of mistakes not quite corrected. I give it away completely, as a small gift back to the Creator in whose image I'm made, a token for everything He's given me, and everything he's created me to be. And that feels good.

Held high

2006-12-06T20:23:00.000-08:00

So, T had a little breakthrough today. As I suggested in a previous post, she's been struggling somewhat with the whole head control thing, or maybe not struggling enough, because she's had basically no use for tummy time - the prescribed routine for encouraging said control. Here's the way our attempts usually go. We play on the floor for a bit, and when I think she's as close to the right mood as she gets, I'll roll her over onto her belly. If I've gauged her mood right, she'll lie there with her head flat on the mat looking left for a minute or two before she gets fed up and starts to fight. If not, she'll protest immediately. At which point I'll do various things to soothe and/or encourage her, applauding the brief little accidental lifts as she squirms defiantly. After what seems like an appropriate time (varies greatly with both her and my patience), I'll roll her back over and let her do something she actually likes again once she quiets down. And maybe repeat awhile later.

Funny thing, if I manage to roll her over so her head is looking right instead of her preferred left, she'll lift it just high enough to clear her nose and roll her head till she's looking left, then start fighting, apparently oblivious to the bit of skill she just demonstrated.

One variation I'd tried a few times was putting a rolled towel under her chest to help support her. Today, I opted for a more manual approach, and slid my hand under her chest, giving her just a little lift off the mat. And wonder of wonders, she stopped the fuss she'd started and looked a bit forward, lifting her head. And then she stayed there, and her little arms found there way to her sides and did a little supporting of their own. And her head stayed up as I cheered her on, even letting a bit more of her weight onto her arms. I opted to roll her back before she changed her mind about enjoying the forward view, but I tried again a little while later and she obliged me with a repeat performance.

So, yes, this proud parent's been waiting on this one for a while, watching for signs, since even her pretty relaxed doc was saying at her last appointment I should make her take her tummy time to get those neck muscles going. But T took this little discovery to heart. After her next bottle, I put her up to my shoulder to burp her and she utterly refused to rest her head. No way she was doing anything but hold it up, even as I reclined my chair right back. Stubborn little girl when she gets something into her head. Just like her mama.

Back to the drawing board

2006-11-29T17:03:00.000-08:00

Way back in the summer I'd made a few posts about a book I was working through called The Creative Call. The last chapters I was reading and posting on were about making time and space to pursue that creative call. Well, it's been awhile, but I recently got back to the book. And I recently finished doing a little rearranging in the nursery to incorporate a little workspace for myself. (I feel like I've written some of this before, but hopefully it was just in e-mails - forgive me if I'm repeating myself). I also managed to migrate most of my art supplies upstairs, including a few old canvases from another abandoned project, and taken a little inventory.
Which leaves me at every artist's favourite spot - getting something started. Along with the usual barriers to starting something (lack of ideas is not currently one of them), my biggest thing right now is not knowing quite how much time I'll ever have at one shot to do anything. So while I've been able to leave a pencil out and do some preliminary scribbling on those canvases, it'll take a bit more courage to actually get some paint out, or anything else that might require a bit of set up before and cleanup after. I'm afraid I'll just get all the paints and brushes out and opened, and then I'll find myself busy 'on call' for four or five hours and wind up wasting paint and ruining brushes. I'm sure I'll find a way around it eventually if I try.
In the meantime, though, I've been chatting with one of my colleagues from my pre-maternity days who's facing the same challenge to get something started. After comparing fears and talking about the pros of taking a class just to allocate specific time, we've decided to have our own little 'class'. We're going to get together once or twice as the holiday schedules allow, and then in January try to start a regular weekly thing of getting together. We may work on stuff. Or share ideas. Or share progress on stuff we're working on. Or whatever. It's mostly deciding to allocate time to do what we need to do to keep our artist alive and in practice.
I'm eager to see what comes of it.

Well done

2006-11-27T22:24:00.000-08:00

A week ago today T and I had our last appointment with my maternity doc, Doc Green. Last week also had a few more of the rough, weepy days than I've had in awhile. I wondered later in the week if the two might be related. For about 10 months I'd been going to see her at least once a month, and as the date came closer, of course, much more often. She marked a lot of the milestones with us. And the whole maternity and birth and new motherhood thing is such an intimate and emotional process. You get rather attached to that consistent voice of experience. And Doc Green did a very fine job. She wasn't one to 'medicalize' things unnecessarily, which suited me perfectly. Just follow the progress, answer questions, explain the options when decisions were required, and unless there were really strong reasons not too, just let the baby follow her own course.
I think especially with all the roller coaster of those early post-partum weeks, I'd come to find a certain security in knowing there'd be another appointment with Dr. Green. Another chance for a sanity check, and a word that I was doing a decent job, from a professional I'd come to respect. Just the prospect of a 'Well done' alone was enough at times to keep me looking to the next appointment.
We're still looking for a regular doctor for T, they're not so easily found in this town. I had an appointment for an interview with one this morning, but this doctor didn't show because of the snow. I've another appointment with another doctor on Wednesday, and one other doctor taking patients that I still need to call. I'm praying I can find a family doctor that I'll be even half as comfortable with as I came to be with Dr. Green. And I'm a little sad that we won't likely be back with her if we go down this road again. Consensus was, after this one went so quick and smooth, that we might want to plan for a homebirth, which means midwife. I have no issues at all with midwives, except it excludes Dr. Green. But we'll see.

So, anyhow, to Dr. Green, I just want to say thanks. And, "Well done."