Welcome to Frustration City!

Oh, we've been having some fun down at the denice-isms household lately. Gracie is a frustrated, frustrated little girl. She wants to move around so very badly, but she just refuses to crawl. Nope, no crawling for Gracie. What she would like to do is just stand and walk around all day please. But since she can't actually do that on her own, and I can't hold her up so she can play all day long, Gracie and I are at an impasse.

Three weeks ago, things were going just fine. She was well on her way to starting to crawl, and life was going well. And then she fell and whacked her head on one of her toys. And I'm not talking a small little bump to the noggin; she whacked it good. There was a bruise and a bump and everything. So now she refuses to even try to crawl. She reaches as far forward as she dares without falling over and then she's done. If something she wants is out of her reach, she just cries. And cries, and cries and cries some more.

Also, no longer can I leave her playing nicely in the living room. I used to be able to plunk her down on a blanket in the living room, give her some toys, and spend the next hour or so doing my chores while she played. Not anymore. Now she must be in the room I am in or she screams. Actually, first she screams, then the screams turn into piteous sobs accompanied by giant crocodile tears. Anyone listening might think I have packed her up and left her on someone else's doorstep never to return, so sad are the sobs that come out of that girl's mouth.

And since I am the world's biggest softie, after about five minutes of the sobs, I give in. I try to leave her there to work it out for herself so she will learn that she has to entertain herself. But I just can't do it. After awhile the sobs get the best of me and I go pick her up. And put her down on the floor in the room I am currently in, give her some toys and hope that makes her happy. Nope. She will scream the entire time I unload the dishwasher, or make supper, or fold the laundry. Because what she really wants to do is walk.

So, when I am done what I am doing, we walk. And walk, and walk, and walk. We go from the kitchen to the patio door in the living room and back again. And when mommy gets tired of that, we go outside and walk on the grass. This kid is getting pretty good at it too, if I do say so myself. The only time she is happy now is when I hold onto her two little hands and we walk. She grins the world's biggest grin, makes happy little screeching noises and gurgles and talks and looks up and smiles at me with that big gummy smile that melts my heart; and every once in awhile we stop to take a little rest and she gives me a big wet slobbery baby kiss.

The ENTIRE REST OF THE DAY she is fussing and crying and screaming for me to come and get her and let her walk. And Mommy is getting frustrated. I yelled at her this morning. After trying several different things to entertain her and she was still screeching, I yelled "FINE!!!!!", picked her up kind of roughly and stood her on her feet to walk some more. So of course she cried because Mommy has never done that before, and I cried because I'd never treated her that way before, and now I just want to crawl into a hole and die. I'm supposed to be the Mommy with infinite patience, and today mine ran out.

I know this is just a phase, and soon she will be more mobile and happy. But it's just such a long day when she gets up at 8 a.m. and only takes a short afternoon nap and doesn't go to bed until 11 p.m. Someone please tell me she will be happier soon!

Oh, to be a rich woman…

Before you read on, go to www.potterybarnkids.com and look at all the super cute Halloween stuff.

Aren't they the cutest costumes you've ever seen? If I was rich, (and I'm definitely not), and if they actually shipped this stuff to Canada, I would be ordering a whole butt-load of Halloween fun! (I bet rich people don't say "butt-load" either.)

If I could afford it, Gracie would have one of those adorable little costumes (devil? flower? tiger? bee? ladybug?…I can't decide!), and I would be the Sorcerer. I also want most of the decorations, the cute plates, placemats and tablecloth, the neat games, and the banner for my front door.

Anybody know what the Lotto 6/49 jackpot is this week?

How cute is she????

Seven things about me…

Because I know I'm so important to you all (heeheehee), I've decided that I had better offer up a post to keep you all coming back, just in case you decide to abandon me due to lack of posting. The only problem is nothing worthy of an entire post has happened to me lately.

You see, it's summer, so I'm naturally distracted from anything that requires much brain power (throwback to childhood summer vacation I guess). And I'm still (STILL!) cleaning my house from top to bottom, and baby is it getting organized! But I've still got a bit more to do so I'm spending every spare minute doing that.

So, to keep you all interested until I am done cleaning and back to my usual self, here are some random things in my life from the past few weeks:

1. I am totally in love with the new Tide laundry detergent that smells like white lilac. Makes my clothes smell so nice, I actually WANT to do laundry.

2. I am addicted to the new Peek Frean Cranberry Citrus Oat Crunch cookies. Yummy!!! Dip them in a little vanilla yogurt: even yummier!

3. I just found out that my next door neighbor and her teenage daughter have been going to the food bank to get them through some tough times. Now all I want to do is bake for them and do whatever else I can for them.

4. Gracie has decided to be a night owl like mommy and daddy. She goes to bed at 1 a.m. and sleeps until 10 a.m. She can sit up on her own now too. Well, most of the time. When she's bored of sitting she just falls backwards, which is fine when she's sitting on my bed while I fold laundry, but not so fine when we are in the living room on the padded foam tile thingies. Or at the Superstore getting family photos taken and you have to sit on the cement floor.

5. I have been watching Little House on the Prairie every day at 5 p.m. while Gracie naps and I make supper. Embarassing, but true. Did you know that Jason Bateman and Shannen Doherty were on that show when they were little kids? It's kinda funny to watch.

6. I had my first "I can do it myself Mommy!" moment with Gracie the other day. It was only the third time I've let her sit up while she takes a bath, and since I'm trying to be a responsible adult and not let her drown, I kept holding onto her. And she kept grabbing my hand and pushing it away. The fifth? time, she looked right into my eyes and started baby-babbling in a very annoyed voice, her little face all scrunched and mad. I'm pretty sure she was telling me off in her own little language.

7. Speaking of language, she's getting very close to saying "Mommy." Whenever she is upset, scared, crying, or just generally annoyed with something, I get an "Uhhh-meeee!" At first I thought it was just coincidental baby babble, but she's doing it pretty consistently now. I have to say I'm kinda surprised. The way she's been trying to get the cats, I was certain her first word was going to be Kitty.

Well, that's me in a nutshell these days. As soon as I get a minute, I'll scan the family photos we had taken and post them here.

My kid's bigger than your kid…

I took Gracie to her 6-month check-up this afternoon, and after the nurse did the preliminary height and weight check, this is what I overheard just outside the door of the little room they stuck us in:

Doctor: This can't be right.

Nurse: But it is. I checked twice. Her mother helped me hold her still.

Doctor: But she can't be 74 cm tall. She's only 6 months old.

Nurse: You can measure her again yourself, but she's 74 cm tall.

Doctor: Then I guess the weight must be right too. 9.43 kg? That's over the 100th percentile. Holy crap, that's one big kid.

So apparently, my kid's bigger than your kid, and your kid, and your kid too. Not unhealthy -- the doctor said she's quite proportional -- just big.

And nobody is more surprised than me. For those of you who don't know me in the flesh, I'm only 5'3" tall. So when I got pregnant I just assumed that I was going to have me a nice little 6 pound baby, because seriously, where would a bigger baby than that fit? And even when presented with ultrasound results that told me Gracie was at least 7 pounds and probably more, I didn't really believe it. Induce me today? But it's only my due date! Let's not be hasty. If Gracie doesn't really want to come out, then I don't think we should force her just yet…

Then a week later, when they told me I shouldn't wait any longer and made me come in for an induction, I still didn't really believe the baby could be that big. When asked if I wanted some morphine or an epidural, I naively said no, I thought that I could probably get by just fine with some of that nice laughing gas I had read about. And I did get by just fine -- until my giant baby got stuck and they had to do some nasty things to get her out. FYI, laughing gas is NOT effective when they need to reach in and rip out a baby who is going into distress. I won't go into details, but when all was said and done, Gracie's collarbone was broken and I didn't walk so well for quite awhile…

Where was I? Oh yes - my big baby weighed in at a whopping 8 pounds, 10.75 ounces, and she's been big ever since. At this rate, she's going to outgrow me sometime next year. And that's just fine with me. Maybe she will grow up to be one of those lucky ladies who doesn't have to shop in the petites section. Sigh…a mother can dream, can't she?

PMS Day. Need I say more?

I am grumpy and frustrated beyond measure today. Gracie is being a crying, whining, teething 6-month-old (which I know she can't help), and all the things I usually do to cheer her up are not working and all she does is cry if I don't hold her, so I've been holding her and walking around the house for three hours straight. I'm PMS-ing and there is no chocolate left in my house, and hubby will not be home until midnight tonight so I'm all alone all day with a baby who won't stop crying and if it wouldn't wake her up (she finally fell asleep) I would be screaming in a pillow right now so I'm doing this instead.

Okay. Better now. Maybe I have time to make some cookies…


Postscript: It's now midnight. After I posted this afternoon, Gracie had a 2 hour nap and woke up a different baby. And after she went to bed Mommy had a Smirnoff Ice and some popcorn and she feels MUCH better now. Damn it, I guess Scott Reid was right: we parents do squander our money on beer and popcorn.

Things I didn't know before I got pregnant #274

When I got pregnant, I knew that my body would suffer some irreparable damage. I knew that I would gain weight, acquire a spare tire that would never really go away, and that I would likely lose a large percentage of my hair.

But no one ever told me that one of my boobs would end up bigger than the other. That's right: one of my boobs is bigger than the other. And not just a little bit bigger. Waaaay bigger. I discovered this this morning, trying on my old bras.

You see, I'm fortunate enough to have lost about half of my pregnancy weight, and since I'm no longer breastfeeding, my breasts have returned to close to their original size. Not their original perkiness of course, but size wise, pretty close to normal. So, I hauled out a bunch of my old bras, hoping that perhaps some of the push-up variety I used to wear might make me look a little bit better. I figured that I could probably squeeze back into my good ol' 36C's if I did up the very last hook instead of the first hook that I USED to use…

And that's when I discovered that one of my lovely ladies is bigger than the other. The right side fits quite nicely, thank you very much. But the left side? Refused to stay in the cup. Popped right out every time I tried to stuff it back in.

How does this happen? Will it go back to the right size eventually? How on earth am I ever going to find a bra that fits me, ever, ever again?

Only me. Something like this would only happen to me, I swear.

Bestest Toy Ever!

Sorry I haven't posted much lately. You know how a few weeks ago I wrote about how I was going to re-organize my house and turn myself into a neat freak? Turns out that re-organizing can create a bigger mess than you had in the first place. Nobody told me that part. And, when you are spending all your time re-organizing, it gives you less time for silly things like vacuuming and doing the laundry, which you end up doing at 2 a.m. because it still has to get done. So, writing on my blog (which I would rather be doing than ANY of those aforementioned things) has become a bit of a lower priority.

But I'm almost done. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. My house will be neat and tidy and presentable in no time (or, alternatively, just in time for Gracie to crawl, which looks like could be any minute now).

But I gotta tell you all about this cool thing I bought yesterday, in honor of Gracie's first grocery shopping trip without the infant car seat. She's pretty good at sitting up on her own but is a teeny tiny bit wobbly still, so I needed something to, um, hold her up a bit while I spend and hour and half shopping. (If any of you can get out of the Real Canadian Superstore in under an hour and half, please tell me how).






Anyway, I bought an Infantino shopping cart cover. It has toys on it for her to play with, a little pillow for a head rest, and a handy-dandy strap to put through the back of the shopping cart to hold her up. And she LOVED it. I put her in the shopping cart, strapped her in, then told her: "Look! You're sitting up all by yourself like a big girl!" I tell you, you've never seen a smile so big. She grinned for a half an hour. She looked at EVERYTHING with such intensity, as if she had never seen any of these things before. She played with all the little toys, and when she got tired, the little strap kept her upright and the bone-shaped pillow was the perfect little head-rest.

Try it! I highly recommend it. Now, back to the giant mess…

A small request…

Can I please freeze time to the very moment in this picture? I would like Gracie to stay almost 6 months old forever, and I would like every day to end like in this picture: going to the park at sunset, pushing Gracie in her toddler swing for 20 minutes while she laughs and hubby and I smile and hug and kiss in the warm summer night breeze, and all is right with the world.

Four years and 30 pounds ago…

Today is hubby and my fourth anniversary. Four years of wedded bliss, filled with moving to Airdrie, buying 20 per cent of an independent newspaper, buying our first home, and best of all, having our first child.

It's been the best four years of my life, bar none.

Although, the three years we lived together prior to getting married were pretty damn awesome too. Which (awkwardly) brings me to today's topic: Is an anniversary less special when you've lived together before getting married?

Last year, a slightly more religious acquaintance of mine insinuated that since hubby and I had lived in sin for so long before we got married, our anniversary didn't really mean anything. That since it wasn't really the beginning of our life together, it wasn't really the celebration of anything other than "making it legal."

After I got over wanting throw her over the nearest cliff (which is pretty hard to find on the prairies), I started thinking about what she had to say. I mean, I guess, in a way, she was a teeny, tiny bit correct. Our wedding day was not the beginning of our lives together. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought it made the day MORE special, not less.

You see, by the time you've shared an abode with someone for three years, you've learned pretty much everything about them. You've moved past the "crazy in love" phase, and entered the "this is real life" phase. You know, the phase where you ask your sweetie why the hell he has to take his socks off and just leave them on the floor in front of the couch, and he answers by saying: "I don't know. Why the hell does it take you an hour to get ready to go anywhere?"

We knew each other's likes and dislikes, pet peeves and peccadillos. We knew each other inside and out, warts and all. We knew better than a brand new couple exactly what we were getting ourselves into. And we still stood up in front of all of our family and friends and spilled tears of happiness as we promised to love each other until death do we part.

Now, come on, isn't that romantic?

Update to the Instruction Manual:

Since I wrote that post on Friday, it has been pointed out to me that I'm doing two stupid things:

1. Boiling water before I make formula.
2. Sterilizing the bottles every night.

So here is my lame defence for each point:

#1: I've been boiling the water for the formula because, well, it says to in bold, all caps letters on the side of the can; and being the polite and obedient Canadian that I am, I followed the instructions. It has since been pointed out to me both online and in person that only new Moms like me follow that instruction. Apparently, most of you all buck the system and just use hot tap water. So, I've been using hot tap water for the last couple of days and sweet Gracie still seems to be alive and well, so I've eliminated that step from my night time routine.

#2: I've been sterilizing the nipples to her bottle every night since she got thrush three months ago. I didn't use to. I used to just put them in the dishwasher and then sterilze them once a week like it said on the instructions. (I'm a real follow-the-instructions kind of gal). But the first time she got thrush it didn't go away until I started sterilizing every night. Once the thrush cleared up I went back to sterilizing once a week, but by the end of the week the thrush was back. I did that three times. The third time she got thrush I had to give her a super strong prescription medicine, throw away all of the bottle nipples, throw away all of her soothers, throw away all of the gripe water that I had dipped a soother in, and take away a number of toys that she had chewed on and sterilize them too. I didn't want that thrush to come back ever, ever again, so I just got into the habit of boiling all the bottles nipples for a half hour every night before I went to bed so they would be ready for morning.

But she hasn't had thrush in two months now, so I could probably be safe in going back to once a week. And I've decided that this is the week. So thanks everybody! Maybe with all the extra time I'll have, I'll see if I can get my hands on a copy of the new Harry Potter book…

Instruction Manual for being Gracie's Mommy

You know the saying that babies don't come with instruction manuals, but it sure would be nice if they did? Well, today I decided to start a new feature here at Denice-isms. I call it: Instruction Manual for being Gracie's Mommy. Every time I stumble upon something very important to Gracie's upkeep and general well-being, I'll add it to the manual.

Today's inaugural entry:

Rule #1: Never, ever, under any circumstances, wake her up in the morning before she is ready to be awake -- or suffer the consequences!

I could write a really long blog about how much she cried and how frustrated I was last week, but I'll keep it to the basics.

For the past couple of weeks, Gracie has been going to bed later, and later, and later, to the point where all last week she didn't go to bed until well after midnight. Which isn't that bad, really, considering her Dad and I are night owls and we probably wouldn't go to bed before then anyway. But since she's formula-fed now, after she goes to bed I have to wash and sterilize all the bottles, boil enough water for the formula for the next day and then mix the formula -- plus do a couple of loads of laundry, clean up the kitchen, tidy the living room -- you get the idea. So when Gracie goes to bed at midnight, I don't go to bed until 2:30 a.m.

Now, when she goes to bed at midnight, sweet Gracie will usually sleep until at least 10 a.m., maybe even 11 a.m. if I'm really, really lucky. But one day last week, I heard her stirring a bit at 9 a.m. and instead of just going into her room and sticking the soother back in her mouth and fixing the blankets so she could instantly drift back off to sleep, I got the brilliant idea that I would instead turn on the lights and wake her up, so that tonight she would go to bed earlier.

Let's just say that didn't go over well. And she punished me for the whole rest of the day. She was grumpy all day, and even though she was clearly tired, she absolutely refused to go to sleep. And she still didn't go to bed until well after midnight.

So in the future, if it doesn't look like she is ready to get up, I will not, under any circumstances, try to wake her up. It's just easier that way. Who needs to go anywhere at 11 a.m. anyway? Stores stay open pretty late here…

Neat-Freak in the Making

My house is a total disaster. And I'm not just being one of those people who SAY "please excuse my messy house" when you come over, and really, the only thing that is messy is there are a couple of bills and flyers on the kitchen counter that haven't been filed neatly away somewhere.

My house really is a total disaster. Every thing is totally disorganized. We moved into this house three days before Christmas in 2004, so in order to get everything unpacked quickly, things just got put where they got put. There was no real thought put into whether it was a GOOD place to put it. If it fit there, that's where it went. At the time, I just figured that I would reorganize everything later, when I had more time. But life got busy and now it's how many years later? and it's still disorganized. Plus, it doesn't really help that I'm the worlds' biggest pack rat. I hate to throw things away, because I'm sure that if I throw that item away, in one week I will need said item. Also, I'm terribly sentimental. I have a whole box of left over wedding invitations and the materials I used to make them. Do I need 50 extra invitations for a wedding that was 4 years ago? No. But can I throw them away? No! They were our wedding invitations!!!

See what we're dealing with here?

In my wildest dreams, I live in one of those perfectly organized houses you see in the Ikea catalogue. A perfect place for everything, and everything in it's perfect place. Sleek, modern furniture, perfectly organized kitchen…everything they are, I want to be. But until recently, I had absolutely no idea how to do it.

I've been watching this show on HGTV called Neat, where a professional organizer comes to your house, helps you clean it out, and then shows you how to organize all your stuff so that it never gets super-scary messy ever again. (I tried to apply to get them to come to MY house, but apparently HGTV thinks the only messy people in the country live in Toronto.)

I have been learning a lot from Neat. And I think, for the very first time, I might just be able to organize this house and keep it that way. Apparently, according to the host Helen, messy people like me have just never learned how to make a system for keeping their house clean. Apparently all of you neat-freak people out there have systems for exactly where everything will go when it enters your house -- instead of sitting on the kitchen table until you can decide what to do with it.

And you also have schedules for cleaning -- like Monday is vacuuming day, Tuesday is laundry day, etc. You see, I didn't know this. I thought that most people just vacuumed when the floor was starting to look dirty. Apparently not. Apparently, most people vacuum the house on Monday, Wednesday and Friday whether it needs it or not.

You learn something new every day.

So, armed with several great ideas I've gotten from her show, I have decided that over the next couple of months, I am going to re-organize my house from the bottom up. Maybe I'll take some before pictures, and when I'm done I'll post the after ones next to it.

Wish me luck! Or, if it's been like a week and I haven't posted anything, please send someone to the basement to dig me out from under the giant pile of stuff…

I need a new look!

I'm not a celebrity watcher by any stretch of the imagination. I don't buy the celebrity magazines and I don't watch the TV shows, because, well, I just don't care. Maybe it's the journalist in me, but I just don't think it's NEWS when a celebrity names her baby something stupid, or shaves her head, or goes into rehab for the 10 jillionth time.

But when there's a 15 minute wait at the Superstore check-out, there's really nothing else to do but read those stupid tabloids. And that's where I noticed that Katie Holmes has a new haircut.



I hate myself for it, but I want that haircut. I need that haircut. I would totally ROCK that haircut! I haven't really changed my hair in about four years -- since I grew it out so it would be long for wedding pictures. So I really need a change in my look. Plus, it would be nice to go a few hours without having to wash the Gracie spit-up out of my shoulder length hair. (Yes, I put it in a pony tail, but the magic Gracie spit up seems to even find it there).

I would also like to be wearing that same outfit (I LOVE that top!), but I haven't been quite as successful at shedding those pregnancy pounds as she was. Oh well. At least I can rock the haircut.

Dear Gracie…

When Mommy leaves you with Grandma all day for the very first time, you should know that the polite thing to do is at least PRETEND you missed me -- just a little bit?

I wasn't worried about you -- I knew that you were fine alone with Grandma. But I still spent the entire day at work wondering what you and Grandma were doing, and if you were napping well for her, and if your teeth were bothering you today, and if I remembered to tell Grandma about your favorite go to sleep blankie, and if I was being a terrible mother by leaving you so soon to go to work, even though it was only for a couple of days.

Oh my Gracie girl, I missed you like crazy! But when I came home, you were smiling and happy, and gave me this very cute smile that said: "Hey Mommy! Have you played with this Grandma lady yet? She's great!" And then you ignored me and went back to playing with Grandma.

Don't get me wrong. I'm glad you had lots of fun, instead of being upset without me. But still, the next time I leave you, can you pretend you missed me just a little, tiny bit? It will make Mommy feel a little bit better. It's selfish, I know. I'm working on it.

Love, Mommy

My new reality

About a month ago, I was reading a post from a mommy-blogger that I totally related to. She was talking about how as a mom who didn't start having kids until she was well into her 30's (like me), her new life as a mommy didn't really feel "real" to her for a long time. She said she spent so many years as a stressed out workaholic (again, like me) that when she quit her job to stay home and raise her kids, she felt a bit like it was a long vacation, and not really her real life. She said that even though she was absolutely having the time of her life, she felt like at any moment, someone was going to show up, take her daughter and say: "Okay, vacation's over. Time to go back to your real life now." She said it took a real "A-ha" moment for her to internalize her new role as mommy and really integrate it as part of her new self-image.

I couldn't get that post out of my mind, because it was exactly how I felt. I'm LOVING staying home with Gracie. But I felt like at any moment, someone was going to find me and say: "Ha! You didn't think you were going to escape that easily, did you? Did you really think we were going to let you spend your days playing with that beautiful little girl forever? Go sit in your windowless office, and get back to working 60 hour weeks right now!" (Yes, my imagination talks to me in cheesy dialogue from a really bad detective movie).

Now, I know what some of you are thinking. You're thinking: "Um, didn't pushing an almost 9 pound baby out of your va-jay-jay without any drugs make you feel like a real mother? I mean, you'd think that the labour, the breastfeeding troubles and the sleepless nights would make you realize - hey, I'm a mommy now!"

But, like her, I didn't really feel like I was a "real" mommy yet -- until yesterday, when I had MY "A-Ha" moment.

This week, the guy at work who has my old job is on vacation, so I've been taking Gracie to the office to fill in. It's been going pretty well, but yesterday Gracie was just not co-operating. She slept in, so her morning nap was going to be too late for me to take a shower and still get us out of the house at a decent time, so I had to skip the shower. I just washed my face and put on a little makeup, found a headband and put my hair back and headed to the bedroom to find some clothes.

That's when I discovered that I had been doing lots of laundry for Gracie and hubby, but that there wasn't a single clean shirt to wear for myself. So I actually sorted through the laundry hamper, pulled out all of my t-shirts, laid them out on the bed and compared which shirt had LESS spit-up on it. And that's when I had MY "A-ha" moment.

It just totally hit me, like a ton of bricks, right then and there. I am a mommy now. Choosing your least spit-up on shirt to wear out in public is a totally "mommy" thing to do. This really is my "real" life.

And I'm loving every minute of it.

Be my Friend

Okay, I get the Facebook appeal now. One day of playing on it and I'm totally addicted. There are about 8 million things I should be doing right now, but all I want to do is look up people I used to know, send them messages and ask them to be my friend!

On another note, I took Gracie to the health unit today to weigh her, and you will never guess how big my little monster is getting! She is 4 months and one week old, and weighs a whopping 17 lbs, 11 oz. She has outgrown her 6 month size clothing and is now wearing the 9 to 12 month size, and everybody who sees her swears she's 6 or 7 months old. At her 3-month check-up a month ago, the doctor said she was in the 97th percentile for both height and weight, and she's just been growing like a bad weed ever since.

At this rate, I'm starting to have hope that she'll get her Daddy's height instead of my paltry 5'3". But then, who knows? I used to be one of the tall kids in the class too…until I stopped growing at age 14.

Anyway, here's another cute pic of her taken about a month ago. I know, I know, I really need to take my film in more often. But I'm busy! (Playing on Facebook…)

I'm back!

So I have an internet connection once again, after not having one for freaking ever.

It's a really long story that starts with a power outage and the possibility of the entire logic board of my beloved iMac needing to be replaced, and ends with the problem being a fried ethernet cord that I should have checked BEFORE I packed my four-month-old and my computer up and drove to Westworld Computers, sat for an hour in traffic while Centre Street was closed for construction, and then paid $50 for them to tell me there was absolutely nothing wrong with my computer.

Anyhoo… I have my internet back and thank God because I was really, really missing it. Gracie's been sleeping so well lately that I had a ton of blog entry ideas and some actual time to blog -- but no internet connection to make it happen. I had a really good one written for May 31, all about how one year ago today I was waking my hubby up by jumping on the bed and waving a urine-soaked stick in his face yelling: "WAKE UP! IT'S POSITIVE! Look! There are two pink lines in the window! The second one is kinda faint but it's there! IT'S POSITIVE!!!!!!!!!" I'll spare you the rest of the entry 'cause it got kinda sappy, but you get the general idea.

So, I'm making up for lost internet time today. I joined FaceBook, just so that I could look up people that I haven't heard from in forever, and now I have no idea what to do with it. What does the "Poke" thing mean? And why can't I read a person's profile without adding them to my Friends list? I mean, there were 50 people with the same name that I was looking up in some instances -- do I have to add every single one to my list of Friends before I get to find out if any of them is the person I am actually looking for? I consider myself fairly internet savvy, but I don't understand the appeal of FaceBook. Maybe I need to spend more time at it. There has to be a reason why the Province of Ontario has banned it in all government offices so their employees will get some actual work done.

I'll end this mish-mash post that, now that I re-read it doesn't seem to any real point to it, with a picture of my little family. Awww…how cute are they?

This may be too much info…

Yesterday, I had one of those days that reading a parenting book could not have prepared me for.

I had the worst diarrhea I've ever had in my whole life. I don't know what I ate to make my digestive tract so angry at me, but it was the kind of "feel the rumble in your tummy, stop what you are doing and RUN" kind of diarrhea.

But what do you do with your 3-month-old when you have to drop everything and run?

Well, luckily the first couple times it happened, she was happily playing under her baby gym in the living room, so I just left her there and ran. I'm not sure she even noticed I was gone.

But the third time it happened, poor Gracie was snuggled into my lap enjoying her second breakfast when Mommy had to get up and run. I grabbed the bouncy seat on my way to the bathroom, put her in it in front of me on the floor, and stuck the bottle in her mouth. She had this absolutely shell-shocked look on her face like "what just happened?" but my little trooper just kept on eating. Until yesterday, I had been absolutely heartsick that I had to give up breastfeeding; but it was decidedly handy to be able to feed her while I sat on the toilet because I tell you, I had to do that a couple more times before the day was done.

By early afternoon I had the bouncy seat staying in the small downstairs bathroom, an extra towel on the floor on top of the bath mat in the upstairs bathroom, and a variety of toys with which to keep my Gracie entertained in both. I sang songs, read her books, and tickled her tummy with my feet, all while sitting on the toilet. That worked for most of the day -- in fact, she seemed to be rather interested in these new rooms that she hadn't spent much time in before.

But boy, when she decided she really, really didn't want to be in that stinky room with me ANYMORE, things got ugly. How do you placate a baby who wants to be picked up when you really don't think it's a good idea to get off the toilet? Poor Gracie was just SCREAMING on the bathroom floor, her chubby arms stretched out towards me, tears streaming down her little face.

So why didn't you just take some Pepto-Bismol or something, you ask? Well, we were out. Completely out. No Pepto, no Tums, no Rolaids. Nothing. Apparently I cleaned us out while pregnant and have not needed them since. So I spent a good long time wondering how I would ever be able to pack this kid up, put her in the car, and get somewhere to buy some medicine without desperately needing to go in the meantime.

Luckily by late afternoon, I appeared to be, um, thoroughly cleaned out, so to speak, and no longer needed the medicine. And though awful, the one screaming incident was pretty brief, and she got over it quickly. But I'm never, ever eating whatever that spicy dish from the chinese food restaurant was ever, ever again.

Long time no post

Hi everybody! (Hi Dr. Nick…)

Sorry I've been absent for so long. A couple of my graphic design clients begged and basically suckered me into doing a few projects for them, which left precious little time for frivolously fun things like this here blog.

These projects also nicely coincided with Gracie deciding that she no longer needed to take naps. When I agreed to do these projects, she was napping rather nicely, thank you very much, so I figured I could spend those hours designing ads and a pretty tourism guide -- and make a few extra bucks with which to buy cute outfits and toys for my new sweet pea.

But as soon as I agreed to do these projects, Gracie decided that napping for hours in the daytime was for 2-month-olds. Three-month-olds apparently take 20 minute naps that are just long enough for mommy to have a shower, or make a sandwich, or throw in a load of laundry. Not long enough to design a 32-page, full-color tourism guide, and design all the ads inside it to boot.

So, I've been waiting until she goes to bed at night and then working into the wee hours of the morning to get everything done. And I found a wonderful person to do the Tourism Guide, because it rapidly became obvious that there was no way in hell that I was going to be able to get it done. So, if that wonderful person is reading this…
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU MARTINA!!!!!

At this point, in case people think I was complaining about the lack of naps, I should disclose that Gracie goes to bed at 11 p.m. and doesn't wake up until 8 a.m. So I'm absolutely not complaining. I point this out because every time I tell another mother that my 3-month-old sleeps nine hours at a stretch, she always gets that look on her face like she'd really, really like to hit me. Hard. With a diaper bag with a couple of bricks hidden in it.

So I'm not complaining. Honest.

But I don't want a needle!

Her first immunizations last Friday. She didn't like it so much. But then, would you?

All winter and no spring makes Necie a cranky girl…

It's snowing outside. I can't believe it's April 18 and it's still snowing.
WHY IS IT STILL SNOWING?????

Don't get me wrong. I love winter -- when I can spend my nights at the curling rink, followed by a nice cold Smirnoff Ice. But I couldn't do either of those things while preggers, and I now that Gracie is here I wake up every day hoping that today will be that bright sunshine-y day when I can take out the stroller I bought months and months and MONTHS ago and actually use it. I NEED to get some fresh air and exercise and not be stuck inside my house day after day after day.

But nooooooo. It's the middle of freaking April and still snowing.
I can't take much more of this winter crap. Global warming my ass.

But it IS an emergency…

I had to take my poor little sick Gracie to the doctor the other day. She had a sore throat and was a little snuffly, plus she had a little thrush, so I thought I'd better get her checked out. So after they poked, prodded and generally pissed her right off, I put my crying child into her carseat and took her home. And it was on that terrible ride home that I came up with what I think is a million dollar idea.

I think that every new parent should get to have flashing lights and a siren for their vehicle, just like emergency vehicles, to be used when you have an infant who is screaming frantically at the top of their lungs in the back seat of your car, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. That way, the little old lady going 2 km/h would have to get the hell out of your way so you could get home to console your screaming little bundle of joy.

Don't you think that's a great idea? I think every new parent should be given their equipment as they leave the hospital with their new baby. And I think traffic laws should be altered so that all motorists have to get out of the way of all emergency vehicles AND all parents with tiny screaming children.

I think people would go for it. I'm writing my MLA and my MP about it right now…

Twiddling my thumbs…

They're all asleep. It's 4 p.m. and every living soul in this house is asleep but me. Sick husband, sick baby, lazy cats…all sound asleep. Me? I'm germ-free so far and wide awake, trying desperately to find something quiet to do.

What I'd really LIKE to do is my new step aerobics DVD, but since I currently resemble a hippo, it's a rather loud activity. Oh well. But to anyone who enjoys step aerobics, you gotta get Gin Miller's new Simply Interval! Hubby gave it to me for Christmas, and I finally got brave enough to try it the other day and it was FANTASTIC. I can't quite keep up with them yet since I'm rather out of shape, but it's going to be fun getting back into shape!

(If you're interested, you can see a preview clip of it at www.ginmiller.com)

Happy Birthday to Me!

Today is my birthday. I am 33 whole years old today. Scary, huh? Where did the time go?

Anyway, it is my birthday today, and for my present my parents have come and taken my 7-week-old child away for 3 whole hours. The plan was for me to have a nap, but now that the time is here, I actually got a fair amount of sleep last night and really don't want one.

So hubby and I had some wonderful "quality time" together (wink wink, nudge nudge), and then I decided to tend to this blog that I don't have much time for anymore. Every single day I have an idea for a post rattling around in my head and I try to find a half hour to write, but then suddenly it's midnight and I've nodded off on the couch holding a baby who was nursing but probably fell asleep a half an hour ago. So all those great posts go unwritten.

For example, on Wednesday, I really wanted to write about how I had a hell of a time trying to get out my house for Gracie's doctor appointment, and when I arrived home hours later I checked myself out in the mirror and discovered that I hadn't finished putting my makeup on. I had managed to get on the foundation and put eyeshadow on ONE EYE, but then Gracie started screaming and I went running, and then we were late and I never made it back to the bathroom to finish. Thank God I wear glasses with dark frames so you can't really see my eyeshadow anyway. But I did have a few people look at me kinda funny and I couldn't figure out why…

Anyhoo, I want to wish a mutual Happy Birthday to Jody Schneider in Strathmore, who I had a ball working with for all those years; and to Dan Spark in Kamloops, a super-sweet guy who my hubby went to j-school with. Hope you both have a great day!

Now, I am going jogging. Or rather, I am going to attempt to jog. It's been a long, long time.

**********************************

Post update:

I just returned from jogging. And to those unfortunate souls in Airdrie who saw me jog, I apologize. I realize now that no one should have to see my giant nursing boobs bouncing up and down, and my huge thighs rubbing together with enough friction to start a fire. Until I lose a few more pounds, I promise I will stick to WALKING outside with my sweet girl in my jogging stroller, and I will keep the aerobic exercise an activity enjoyed in the privacy of my own home.

But God, did that ever feel good. Best. Birthday. Present. EVER!

New Pics!

Here are a couple of pictures of Gracie taken this weekend at my parent's place. My mom took these with her digital camera and emailed them to me. I've gotta get me one of those fancy-schmancy digital things…

The stupidest girl in the neighbourhood…

Stupid, stupid, stupid!!! I'm the stupidest person in the world!
I just had to go and proclaim to all of cyberspace that my Gracie is such a great sleeper, and go and jinx myself.
I wrote yesterday's post just before bed last night, and I got about 3 hours of sleep. When will I learn?!

Sleepy time

Well, I had to do it. I had to start putting Gracie to bed in her crib in her own room.

Before she was born, my plan was to put her in her crib from day one. And I did, for two days. But after being home for two days, I went to stay at my parents' house for a few days so I could get some sleep and recover, and while I was there I had her in a bassinet by my bed. And it was so nice to just be able to look over and see if she was waking up or needed something from me, that when I went home I kept doing it.

And then, after awhile, it just seemed strange to be that far apart from her. I couldn't stand the thought that me and hubby and the two cats would be all cuddled in our bed in our room, but my sweet baby girl would have to sleep all by herself in her own room down the hall. So, in the bassinet by our bed she stayed.

But nobody was getting any sleep.

For one thing, she was uncomfortable in the bassinet. She tossed and turned all night long. When I put her to sleep on the couch or in the bed with us, she slept great. But as soon as I put her in the bassinet she wiggled and fussed. And when she wiggled and fussed, I woke up, because I am the world's lightest sleeper. And when I woke up, hubby woke up. So all three of us were awake.

Then, there was the issue of both hubby and her talking in their sleep. First, she would make a noise, and then hubby would answer in his sleep. It was very cute, but they would do this all night long. And when they did that, I woke up. Because, like I mentioned before, I am the world's lightest sleeper.

And then, there's the issue of my snoring. I snore very, very loudly. Sometimes I snore so loud I wake myself up. So it stands to reason that I would wake up Gracie, who would then wake me up, because, did I mention I'm the world's lightest sleeper?

So, I decided to bite the bullet and try putting her back in her own room. I have a very good monitor, and her room is really only a few steps away. I thought I would try it for one night and see how it went.

In a word, it was great.

She doesn't fuss or wiggle at all anymore. She hardly makes a sound, and I don't have to wake up to re-position her. She just sleeps. In fact, last night, she slept 7.5 hours straight. She might have slept more, but I had to wake her up to eat so we could get to the Mom & Baby class on time. How weird is that?

I still feel a little sad about her being so far away all night long, but I feel so much better and I think she does too, because after the first night sleeping in her crib, she started being much more alert in daytime and taking way fewer naps. So, I guess I should just get over it and enjoy the sleep! Speaking of sleep…

To jog or not to jog…that is the question

The other day, I wrote about how much I love my newfound status as Mommy. And I do. I really, really do. There is, however, one small aspect of being Mommy I could do without: all the extra pregnancy pounds that just keep hanging around.

You see, even though I'm breastfeeding and every other woman on earth seems to be able to eat whatever she wants and lose weight while nursing, for me, the number on the scale just keeps going up and up and up…

So, here's my question for all you mommies out there. Is it really true that when you do aerobic exercise, lactic acid builds up in your breastmilk so your baby can't eat it? Because I can't spend one more day looking in the mirror and seeing those 20 extra pounds staring back at me. Something needs to be done, and fast. And the various different parenting websites I've consulted don't seem to be able to decide. Some say you can exercise as much as you want, some say you can't do any aerobic exercise until after you stop nursing.

Anybody have any personal wisdom to share? Because it's supposed to be really nice out this weekend and I want to go jogging!

Best job ever!

Staying at home with my girl is absolutely, positively, the best job I have ever had. Bar none. I don't remember the last time I was this relaxed and happy. Probably back when I was living on the farm with my parents -- before newspapers made me into the stressed-out, caffeine-addicted workaholic that most of you know and love.

This past week, my sweet baby girl has mastered the art of breastfeeding after being bottle fed for the first three weeks of her life, and, she is sleeping like a pro! Most nights, she will sleep for at least 5 hours at a stretch -- sometimes 7 hours if we've tuckered her out during the day. All I have to do is wake up every two or three hours or so to flip her onto her other side or onto her back -- something that only requires me to be awake for about 2 minutes, so I will take it. I get up that often to pee anyway!

And this morning, I swear to God she smiled at me. She was nursing and cooing away when she stopped to stare at me and then flashed me this great big smile. I tell you, it made my heart skip a beat. I just kissed her little head over and over until she got mad at me and gave me this little noise like: "Okay, okay, I get it. Now make with the food!"

Monday, she reached one whole month old. I can't believe how quickly this first month has flown by. I'm just dying for the weather to get a little bit warmer so I can start going for walks and runs with her. Since most of what I do all day is sit on the couch to nurse her, I'm really craving some exercise. Last night, I actually dreamt I was doing step aerobics and I woke up really wanting to. Maybe tomorrow she will nap long enough for me to get a work-out in…

And for those who keep asking, I'm very sorry, but I haven't got my film developed yet to post more recent pics of her. Every time I leave the house I get all the way to Wal-Mart or Superstore before I realize that I haven't brought the film. Once my sleep deprived brain gets back to normal I'm sure I will remember it. I hope.

Slowly but surely…

So, I'm finally starting to feel like I'm getting the hang of this whole being a mother thing.

The first few weeks were tough. I had perpetual butterflies in the pit of my stomach. Everything was so new and I just always felt like I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, but I was the mommy and I was SUPPOSED to know what I was doing, and with the post-partum hormones tears were always just barely kept at bay. I missed my husband terribly -- I am so used to seeing him all day, every day that every morning when he left, I cried a little after he was gone and I was home all alone. Plus, it didn't help that my poor sweetie had a broken collarbone, and I was scared to handle her too much so I wouldn't hurt her.

But things are getting better. Her broken collarbone has healed, and she's finally surpassed her birth weight. I know the difference between her incredibly similar "I need my diaper changed" cry and her "I'm uncomfortable" cry. I know that even though all the experts say to put her on her back to sleep, my Gracie HATES that. She won't sleep that way. No way, no how. She sleeps on her side, or she doesn't sleep at all. I have survived switching her from bottle feeding to breast feeding. I'm finding ways to be a little less lonely all day. And I have learned that sleep deprivation is something you can actually get used to.

Now, if only I could get her to nap long enough to give me time to read all the blogs I love and write something myself every day, life would be perfect!

Six things I didn't know before I had a baby:

1. Five hours of uninterrupted sleep will feel like 12 after you've been only getting two to three hours of sleep at a time. (She slept from midnight until 5 a.m. last night! Yaayy!!!!)

2. Hormones can rage worse after you've delivered than they ever did while you were pregnant. I've cried more in the past week than I have in the last 10 years. Over silly stupid stuff. Last night, I cried while watching Castaway on TV. Not at the end when his wife has married someone else, but when he lost his volleyball Wilson.

3. Daytime TV sucks!!!!

4. I actually get a little lonely here all by myself. Never got lonely by myself before.

5. Kissing and smelling and staring into the eyes of my baby girl is the best feeling in the whole world.

6. I couldn't imagine loving my husband more, until I saw him cuddled with our girl and I thought I might cry. See #2.

Here's one more pic of Gracie on the day she was born. Don't worry, her giant cone head is now gone. I will post some more recent pics soon.

Introducing…

Look what hubby and I done!

Her name is Grace Amelia Elizabeth Anderson, and she's the cutest baby on the face of the earth.
She was born at 6:57 p.m. on Monday, February 5, and weighed 8 lbs 10.75 oz.

Unfortunately, she got stuck coming out and they had to yank on her shoulder and broke her teeny little collarbone, so I have to tape up her arm, and I can't nurse her (it hurts her to hold her properly) so I have to pump my breastmilk and bottle feed.
And she has a bit of a hip click, so I have to double diaper her to keep the joint in place. And she was a little bit jaundiced so I had to wake her up every two hours to eat. But other than that, she's my healthy little cutie pie!

Sorry I've taken so long to post, but sleeping and eating have been a higher priority this past week. She's sleeping longer stretches now, and the stretches between feedings are a little bit longer, so I have a couple free minutes to do stuff.
This picture was taken just a few moments after she was born. More pics will come -- don't worry!

Now, since little Gracie is sleeping, I need to have a nap.

ow, ow, ow, OW!!!!!

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD! Okay, this has to be the real thing this time.
Quick -- somebody get me the number for the vasectomy place!

Still. No. Baby.

Still. No. Baby.

Apparently, this cold snap has made my sweet pea decide to stay inside for awhile longer. Personally, I don't understand why she doesn't want to come out. She's got to be pretty squished in there. And what with me bouncing up and down and constantly pleading with her, you'd think she'd be clamouring to get out.

But, on the bright side, the ultrasound said she only weighs about 7 lbs 13 oz -- not the monster baby my doctor was starting to freak me out with.

Unfortunately, in order to get that good news, I nearly threw up on the ultrasound technician. Anybody else ever do that? I was laying flat on my back for too long and the pressure from the baby and the rather rough treatment cut off my circulation and all of a sudden I thought I was going to either pass out or throw up. The poor woman ran for a puke basin and a glass of water, and ended up not being able to finish the ultrasound.

So, good times, good times.

I'll keep you posted.

No baby yet…

For those of you waiting on bated breath, there will be no induction this week.

Apparently I misunderstood the doctor at my appointment last Monday. She said that if I was still pregnant today, she would book me for an induction ASAP. For some reason, I figured that meant in the next day or so. But stupid me, I forgot about our inadequate health care system and its huge waiting lists. Apparently, booking an induction ASAP means that we book it today, and hope we get it in two weeks.

My doctor says she always books an induction for all her patients who have reached their due date -- that way it's booked if you need it, and you can cancel if baby comes on her own. Which makes me feel a little better. I thought it was a bit extreme to induce only a few days past your due date, but figured she's the doctor and if she thought I needed it I was prepared to trust her.

She is, however, trying to get me in for an ultrasound somewhere in the next day or two because she's concerned about how big this baby is getting. I believe what she said was: "If I didn't know better, I would say it looks like you're having twins!"

So, I'm starting to get a teeny tiny bit concerned. I'm like 5'4" if I stand on my tiptoes, and the most short-waisted person you will ever meet. There just isn't that much room in there. So I just assumed that my baby would be on the smallish side. Apparently, I had better put some bigger sleepers than just newborn size in my hospital bag.

So, to make a long story short, sorry, no baby today. I will keep you all posted!

Get out! Get out! Get out!

Okay, Gracie. Today is your due date. It's time to come out. Mommy's not messing around anymore. She's uncomfortable and impatient and really, really, REALLY wants to see what you look like.

Plus, if you don't come out on your own, the doctor says she's going to induce me tomorrow because you are getting pretty big and I am a fairly small woman. And from what I hear, that can make the whole process a lot more painful, and I think that is something that we both want to avoid.

So, how 'bout it? Why don't you come out on your own today? PLEASE???

Love, Mommy

Time goes by so slowly for those who wait…

So, what on earth has she been doing with herself, you might be wondering.
She isn't working anymore, so why is she not posting every day?

Well, I didn't want to bore you to death. Because here is what I do every day, now that I'm on maternity leave.

Wake up whenever hubby wakes up. Yep, still pregnant. First thing hubby asks every morning is: "Are you going to have a baby today?" God, I wish I knew the answer to that question. And I wish it was yes!

Make hubby a lunch to take with him while he gets ready. Talk to Gracie and tell her that this would be a most beautiful day to decide to come out, if she so chooses. Bribe her with promises of lots of love and kisses and songs and stories, and certainly a lot more room to stretch out, if she would grace us with her presence today. No answer.

So, I have a shower and sing her songs -- partially because my one pregnancy book says I should sing her the things that I'm going to sing to her when she gets here so she recognizes it, and partially because I just really like to sing in the shower and now that I'm home alone no one will hear me butchering those songs like a failed American Idol contestant.

Then I make breakfast/lunch and eat it while watching "neat" on HGTV at 11 a.m. This is my new favorite show. Every time I watch it I actually WANT to tackle the giant pile of junk in my basement, instead of ignoring it day after day, hoping that eventually the dust mites will just eat it all away. But then the feeling passes…

Then, until yesterday, I had a project that I needed to finish for a private client that just kept dragging on and on and on, so I would work on that for the afternoon. But, since I can't sit in one spot for very long without the blood pooling in my feet and swelling, I would take periodic breaks and wander around Gracie's room. I would tell her about the change table that her Daddy made, and the quilt that Grandma made, and tell her about how we'll rock in the glider rocker and read stories when she gets bigger, hoping that I make it sound appealing enough for her to want to come out.

No such luck.

Then it's time to make supper, and since I miss seeing my hubby all day, I spend all night with him instead of sitting in front of my computer, like I used to do. I figure this time alone with him is precious and fleeting, so I'm taking advantage of it while I can. And together, we talk to Gracie and ask her when she's going to come out so we can see her.

I end my day by trying to stay awake long enough to watch the Daily Show and the The Colbert Report at midnight and 12:30, but often hubby has to wake me up and tell me it's time to go to bed.

See? Not exactly exciting stuff. Stay tuned -- soon I'll be boring you with posts about how bloody tired I am, and how amazingly cute and smart and perfect my Gracie is.

Maternity Leave: Beginning Week 2

Okay. I think I could really get into this. Granted, I don't actually have a baby to look after yet. But once I got past the guilt of being at home, and finished my giant To Do list, I actually started to relax a bit. And I tell you, I haven't felt this good in years! (Aside from not being able to bend over or get up off the couch myself).

Also, after only one week of my undivided attention, my neurotic cats, who used to yell and demand my attention whenever I was home, have turned into pretty contented felines. I'm around all day to let them out, and let them back in 10 minutes later, then let them out a half hour later, then let them back in for a snack in 20 minutes…you get the picture. And since they are no longer sleeping the day away without us there, they don't try to wake me up at 5 a.m. to play anymore either. Seriously. My one cat used to get up on my night table, knock one item onto the floor, then come really close to my face to see if that woke me up. If not, he would go back and knock one more thing off, then check, until I finally moved and then he would let out an excited meowl and start running for the door. Sometimes he would bring toys for me to throw, or the harness we put on him to go outside. But now, he sleeps the whole night with us. If only it was that easy to train a baby that well, my life would be set…

Speaking of baby, she has not yet arrived. I've been having lots of cramps and some contractions, and today my doctor said I'm 1 cm dilated, so delivery day is probably not far off. Yaayy!!! Who'd of thought I'd be this anxious to get to what will likely be the most pain-filled of my entire life?

Maternity Leave: Day 3

Well, I am now pretty much on maternity leave from the newspaper. This week I am "on call." Which means if the new guy has questions, I promised I wouldn't be venturing far from home and would answer his phone calls or come into work for awhile if necessary. But otherwise, I no longer work at the newspaper.

This is very, very weird for me.

I have met a deadline every week (except for my occasional vacations) since June of 1994. I have worked my ass off for seven different newspapers, missed family functions, cancelled plans with friends, and forgone exercise, sleep and proper diet for this job for so many years that I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to do with myself now.

Okay -- that's not totally true. I have a long list of things I need to get done before Gracie gets here. And then, once she does get here, I'm pretty sure she will keep me so busy I won't have time to worry about stupid things like whether or not they'll miss me at work.

But there's a huge gigantic chunk of me that's feels monumentally guilty for getting to escape the daily grind when my poor hubby still has to go every day. Every morning I give him his lunch and kiss him goodbye, knowing I'm sending him off to a job he doesn't really like, while I stay home and have naps and wait for baby to get here.

I tell myself that I haven't had a vacation in three years and this is probably the last one I will get for years and years and YEARS so I deserve this time off. And I tell myself that I owe it to Gracie to listen to my tired body and take it easy for these last few days before she's born so that I will be the best mommy I can be when she gets here. And I tell myself that in a few short months I will be trying to figure out how to work from home and look after a baby at the same time, so I should enjoy this down time while I have it.

But it doesn't work. I look at the tired face of my hubby (who also quit smoking on Saturday), and I can't let myself sit still. I have to make sure that I've done enough in a day to justify my quitting my job and sitting at home.

Is that crazy? Maybe it's just because baby isn't here yet. Maybe I need to give myself time to adjust to my new life. Or maybe, just maybe, I just need to get over myself.

False start

I thought maybe Sunday night was THE NIGHT. I had a number of the early labour symptoms. I packed my bag, I went to bed to get some rest. The contractions continued all night. I even went to work Monday morning to get my guy-in-training started, although I was sure I wouldn't be finishing the day. And then at around noon, the contractions stopped. The cramping stopped. The nausea stopped.

I've never been so disappointed to see pain go away.

But I was sure with that kind of start, the real thing wouldn't be far away. And now, it's Wednesday morning. Still nothing. Come on baby! Don't you want to come out and see the world?

Well, maybe not today. It is blizzarding outside, and we are supposed to be travelling to Three Hills for hubby's Grandfather's funeral. I'm not sure I want to go. Maybe I should take all my hospital stuff with me, in case we get stuck there in the storm…

Is there a Control Freaks Anonymous?

I learned something very important about myself today.

I am a super control freak. There, I said it.

I'm not completely delusional. I've always known that being a bit of a control freak was a part of my personality. But I never noticed just how big of a control freak I really am until today.

You see, today was the first day I let the guy I'm training at work actually sit at my computer and do my job while looking on from beside him. And I swear to God, there were a few moments where it took every single fiber of my being to not grab the mouse and keyboard away from him, because he was doing it wrong.

Of course, he wasn't necessarily doing it WRONG, just not doing it in exactly the same manner I would have done it, and it was driving me absolutely up the wall. The poor guy is so nice that he didn't say a word when I kept saying "If you do it this way it'll be faster," and "I usually like to do it this way…" But I bet in his head he's counting the days until I leave him the hell alone and he can do it whatever way he bloody well chooses.

It was somewhere around hour three of having to sit on my hands and bite my tongue that I realized I could no longer pretend that being a control freak was only a very small facet of my personality.

Oh well. At least I can be honest about it, right?

As much as I am sooooo looking forward to this baby being born and spending my time at home with her, it's really weird to just hand over my job to someone else. I think what I will miss the most is spending all day with my sweet hubby. There is something really nice about spending all day working with your spouse that most people won't ever experience or understand. I'm really going miss seeing his face all day, every day.

But, on the up side, I got a bunch of emails today from newspaper clients who really like my work and who wanted to know if I will be working from home once I leave. I didn't know I was so loved! It was a nice ego boost, I must say. Probably not so nice for the poor new guy who was sending out emails telling people that he was my replacement, hoping for some kind of welcome, and instead got people wanting to know how they could get hold of me. Oh well. I'm sure they will come to love him as much as they love me. (But hopefully not too much -- I am going to eventually work from home and I'll need their business!)

I didn't fall off the face of the earth…

I'm sorry I've been gone for so long -- I haven't given birth, and I haven't been kidnapped. I just needed to get as far away from my computer as humanly possible after the full month of working my ass off before Christmas. There was an entire week there where the earliest hubby and I got home from work was 1 a.m. One night, we worked until 3 a.m., but by then hubby was so wired on caffeine and ColdFX that he didn't get to sleep until 6 a.m.

So by the time Christmas arrived, hubby and I were officially burned out. As one person put it today -- "you looked like you were ready to throw your computer out the window!" -- and he wasn't far off.

So, we spent lots of time staying with family, and a little time hiding out in our house getting as much sleep at we could before we had to go back to work, and before baby gets here. My tummy grew A LOT, and baby Gracie has dropped a little so my appetite has come back. My back is starting to really hurt, but the two glider rockers we were given for Christmas sure make it better!

And other than that, not a lot is new. I started training the guy who will be replacing me while I'm on maternity leave today, which means that I spent the day talking about what I do all day, but not actually getting any work done. So, I'd better get back to work so I can get home before 2 a.m.

Only 26 sleeps until Gracie's expected arrival!!!

The end may be near…

So, every night for the last three nights, I've dreamt that Gracie decides to come early and we have the New Year's Baby for Airdrie.

Then, I go to my doctor's appointment this afternoon and after the usual poking and prodding, she says: "That baby's sure packed in there tight. I've never really seen that before. You don't have much room left in there, do you?"

And last night, I was vacuuming the living room when I got home from work at 1:30 a.m. because I just couldn't go to bed with a dirty floor. I'm new at this, but don't they call that nesting?

So, what do you suppose all this means? I think I'd better get Gracie's room done and not make any plans for New Year's Eve, that's what I think it means.

High School Flashback

I know I said I wasn't writing until Saturday, but I just had to share this little tidbit.

This morning as I was getting dressed, I pulled out a t-shirt that fit me a few short weeks ago and discovered that said t-shirt no longer even remotely fits. And as I stared in the mirror at my big tummy sticking out underneath the shirt, I was immediately reminded of Mr. Belanger, my high school computer science teacher.

Mr. Belanger was one of my favorite teachers, not only because he introduced me to the fabulous world of Macintosh computers, but because he had a great sense of humor and his classes were always fun. But Mr. Belanger was a big man. A very big man. He had a GIANT beer gut that hung over his pants, and rather than wear a long shirt that he could tuck into his pants and cover said beer gut, he always wore a shirt that was not quite long enough to cover it up. I'm sure that when he got dressed in the morning he would pull it down far enough to cover himself, but through the course of the day it would ride up and by afternoon a very large portion of his hairy, fat stomach would be sticking out underneath his shirt and hanging over his pants.

And that's what I was reminded of when I looked in the mirror this morning. I looked identical, except for the hairy part. I'm sure poor Mr. Belanger would be happy to know that a very fat pregnant lady was reminded of him when she looked in the mirror this morning. I sure wasn't thrilled to see that I looked just like my fat high school computer teacher. Sorry Mr. Belanger, wherever you are.

So. Very. Busy.

Sorry I haven't had time to post on my beloved blog.

Must put out two newspapers in one week. The first one is going to be 40 pages.

Up to my eyeballs in work that private clients need done before Christmas and before baby is born.

Not done Christmas shopping. Have not even put up the Christmas tree - have tried three times and have been interrupted with something every time.

I'll talk to you on December 23. Life should be back to normal by then. I hope.

Waiting for Gracie

Okay, I'm starting to be an uncomfortable pregnant woman now. I am no longer in awe of the wondrous task my body has undertaken in creating the miracle of life, blah, blah, blah…

I just want my body back to myself. I want to make it through the day without having to pee every hour on the hour. I want to find a comfortable position to sleep in. I want to be able to walk up the two flights of stairs in my townhouse without getting winded. And I want to be able to bend over and pick something up without making old lady noises.

But mostly, I want to SEE this baby. I'm just dying to see what this little girl looks like. I want to kiss her little head, and count her teeny fingers and toes, and cuddle her and sing to her and just have her HERE.

Only six more weeks to go, only six more weeks to go…

Christmas spirit alive and well

If ever I needed proof that I am indeed, a small-town farm girl at heart, it came yesterday, while Christmas shopping.

I am not cut out to be in that small of a space with that many people packed into it. I swear to God, all 1 million people who live in the city of Calgary were at the mall I chose to shop at yesterday. I lasted a whole hour and then I went home.

I grew up on a farm near a town of 1500 people. My nearest neighbour was at least two miles away. There were 30 kids in my entire class until high school, when the rest of the kids from the even smaller schools around the county had to come to our school. That put the grand total up to 60 kids in my graduating class.

I am not happy with crowds. I am not happy in traffic. I would never, EVER be able to live in the city. Okay, technically, Airdrie is a city, but there are only 30,000 people living here. And to be honest with you, this is about as big a city as I can take. To me, cities are fun places to drive to for a day every once in awhile to do some shopping and maybe go to a movie or a play, and then get the hell out of and go home.

Anyway, back to my original point, there were A LOT of people at the mall yesterday. I don't know what I was thinking going shopping in Calgary on a Saturday, but I've learned my lesson.

Oh, but there was one very bright spot in my day.

I stopped at Wal-Mart here in Airdrie to get some wrapping paper and bows and tape and all that good stuff, and stupidly didn't get a cart. I thought that since I was only picking up a few things I could carry them and get through the crowd easier than if I had a cart. But of course, I found a few other things I needed while I was there, and pretty soon I was having trouble holding all the stuff I had stacked up in my arms and I dropped my rolls of tape. I was trying to figure out how my big fat pregnant self was going to bend down and pick up the tape without losing everything else when I heard this little voice say "I'll help you!" I looked up and a maybe 4-year-old boy was running down the aisle towards me. He picked it up for me with a big smile on his face and said "Here you go!" I tell you, I nearly cried. It was just the sweetest thing ever! I thanked him lots and told him what a nice thing it was for him to do, and he just looked pleased as punch that he'd done such a good thing for someone.

I sure hope I can raise a child who is as sweet and polite as that little guy.

Anyway, gotta go. Today is the day -- I'm going to haul the Christmas tree out of my basement and make my house look all festive. Merry Christmas!!!

Does your boss know what you do?

So, my boss has started calling people in for interviews to replace me while I'm on maternity leave. I overheard some of his phone conversations yesterday, and let me tell you, it is a very interesting experience to hear your boss describe your job to somebody else.

First, he grossly underestimated how many hours this person will be required to work. Then he kept using the phrase "it's pretty easy" over and over. I wanted to tell him that if he thinks it's so easy, maybe HE should have been there at 2 a.m. the night before, painstakingly photo-shopping words off of washers and dryers and fridges out of a flyer for the local Sears dealer's ad.

So when he got off the phone, I told him that he really needed to tell people that I work more than 35 hours a week. "You do?" was his response. "Um, yes. A lot more, actually." He was kind of stunned. Apparently he had no idea that I come back to work every Monday night after supper and stay until at least 10 p.m. And he had no idea that hubby and I don't even take a supper break on Tuesdays -- we just order in and keep working until at least midnight. On a busy week, much more.

So after I tell him all this, his answer to the problem is that he will just call me on the weeks that it's really busy and I can come in and help, so he doesn't have to pay the new person for all the extra hours.

I'm in very, very big trouble.

(Did I mention that hubby and I own shares in this particular newspaper? Just in case you're wondering why on earth we would show such loyalty to our employers).

Oh the weather outside is frightful…

So it's about 6 bazillion degrees below zero outside today, and the snow just keeps on coming. I am sitting at work, trying to concentrate, but all I want to do is go home and decorate my house for Christmas. I want to make some gingerbread cookies and some hot chocolate, put on some Christmas music, and make my house look all festive and bright.

I know, I know. It's not even December yet. But it's snowing and beautiful outside! Airdrie had it's Santa Claus parade on Saturday, and the Festival of Lights has already started in the big park in the middle of the city. Come on -- can't I just put up my Christmas tree? How about a wreath on my front door?

Okay, okay. I guess I can wait one more week. But in the meantime, do what I did and have fun making yourself into a South Park character!

Go to: www.sp-studio.de and create away!

Attack of the Hormones

I had a really super hormonal breakdown/allergy attack yesterday.

It was a super duper crappy day from start to finish, so when, at 10:30 p.m. I was putting away the groceries I had just bought and the shelf on my refrigerator door fell onto my foot and everything scattered around the floor, I had had enough.

I yelled, I threw things, (which scared the crap out of my poor kitties), then sat down in tears. I don't generally do things like that. It was kind of unsettling. Which made it even worse -- I pride myself on being the kind of person who thrives under pressure. I don't cry when things don't go my way -- ever! What good will that do? No, I just find a way to fix the problem, and get on my with day. But not yesterday. Nope, yesterday I was one of those pansy girls who cry at the drop of a hat -- and I HATE those girls.

Luckily, my sweet hubby came and fixed things up, then made me cuddle up with him on the couch until all was right with the world again.

So, things seem much better today. Gotta go though. In-laws are coming over this afternoon and my house is a disaster area. How fast can I clean an entire house? Well, I guess I'll see. My plan is to start with downstairs, where we will spend most of our time, and if I don't get all of upstairs done I just won't let them up there…

The 36-pager

Fellow newspaper slaves, please give me your sympathy on this cold, Alberta day. I have just finished production on a 28 page newspaper AND an 8-page special section that is about 95% advertising. All. By. Myself.

Yes, that's right. I made the dummy and the template pages TWICE because SOMEONE changed their mind, managed to appease the customer from HELL, designed every ad that you'll find in those 36 pages, compiled the classifieds, made the PDFs of the pages and uploaded them to the press -- and I did it all in three and a half days. Oh, and did I mention that at this particular newspaper, I also have to email or fax all the proofs myself and keep track of the corrections? And answer the phone and watch the front desk when the receptionist is busy on Monday and Tuesday and when we don't have a receptionist on Wednesdays? And answer all the emails in our general inquiry account? And on and on and on…

I worked until midnight on Sunday & Monday, and until 2 a.m. on Tuesday, but by God I got it done!

Looks like pages are done uploading. Better go home and eat something.

Only 67 days until baby gets here and my NEW stressful, round the clock job begins…

I need food ideas!!!!

I need some new recipes. I am sick and tired of making the same things for supper all the time. But it's hard to make new things at my house. EATING is hard at my house. You see, I am allergic to all things dairy; and hubby is allergic to fruits and vegetables. Okay, he's not technically allergic to fruits and vegetables. But he refuses to eat any but a select few, so he might as well be.

Why don't I just MAKE him eat them, you ask? I figure he's an adult, and if he really finds fruits and vegetables THAT repulsive, then it's not worth my time and energy to make him. I figure I wouldn't appreciate it if someone was always bugging me to eat something I hated. (My children, on the other hand, will be a completely different story.)

But since we have very different tastes in what is good and what is not, sometimes it's hard to find things that we both like. If it was up to me, we would eat a small portion of lean meat and a heaping plateful of vegetables for supper every night. If it was up to hubby, we would eat a steak large enough to take up the entire plate every night - no need to make anything to go with it. Steak and steak alone is hubby's idea of supper perfection.

But since you can't eat steak for supper EVERY night, (actually, hubby's father raises cattle and we get a freezer full for free every year. So technically, we COULD eat steak every night if we wanted. But I digress…) I need to come up with some mutually agreed upon things to bring us a little variety. Usually hubby is very receptive to anything that has a lot of melted cheese on top of it, and so I used to make it despite my allergy and just take some antihistamines. But since I'm pregnant I can't have antihistamines anymore, so anything with cheese is out.

And so I think I've been making the same five or six things for supper since the day the two little lines on the stick turned pink. And I'm bloody sick and tired of them.
Anybody got any good ideas? Because I can't eat spaghetti and meat sauce one more time. I just can't.

Here are my limitations. Anything I make for supper cannot contain any of the following ingredients:
- Any milk products whatsoever.
- Almost any kind of fruit or vegetable (with the exception of tomatoes, corn, peppers or mushrooms)
- Any kind of cream or mushroom sauce
- Any kind of fish. Seafood is okay, but fish is not.

See my problem? Between the two of us, it's impossible to come up with a variety of foods to eat. He will not eat soups, stews, casseroles or anything that might have vegetables lurking in them. I can't eat cream sauce, and he won't eat mushroom sauce. Tuna casserole? Nope. The yummy salmon rolls my mom makes? Nope. Tacos? Only good with cheese and sour cream, so nope. Pizza? Nope. Fish & Chips? Nope.

AAARRRGGG!!!!!!

(Before you get worried that I'm depriving little Gracie of fruits and vegetables, I fill up on them all day. Breakfast is always a fresh fruit vitamin smoothie, lunch is always accompanied by some sort of fruit and a vegetable, and my afternoon snack is usually an apple and some low-fat goat's milk cheese. Hubby and I eat separate things for breakfast and lunch, but I don't have enough time or energy in my schedule to make two separate suppers too).

Keener!!!

Oh my god. I've turned into a Keener. You know, the brown-noser everyone in the class hated because she always had her hand up and answered all of the teacher's questions? That was me, yesterday, at our Childbirth Essentials class. I was completely obnoxious. I even made a joke about the Scientology silent births when the instructor was talking about not being afraid to make as much noise as you want.

I sure have changed since going to high school. Back then I knew a lot of the answers, but I would have NEVER put up my hand -- that would have involved actually speaking in front of the whole class. And what if I was wrong and everybody laughed at me? Nope, better just to keep my mouth shut.

But this weekend, I just couldn't help myself. She asked the questions, and I just opened my mouth and answered. Out loud!

And apparently all my reading has paid off. I knew pretty much everything she had to tell us, except for all the relaxation techniques. So really, I wasted a Friday night and all day Saturday, not to mention $110. I think it was worth it for hubby though. While I've been busy reading up on childbirth to prepare myself for the very slim chance that hubby might freak out and I'll be doing it all by myself, hubby has remained blissfully unaware of episiotomies and emergency c-sections. I think it was a bit of an eye-opener for him. But I also think it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, and so I am confident that I will have him there with me the whole time. Yay!

Super Expansion

Okay, my stomach is doing some serious stretching today.

Remember that Friends episode where Joey ate an entire 20 lb turkey all by himself? That's how my stomach feels today.

Maybe Gracie's got her little hands and feet all stretched out and is pushing outwards as hard as she can to see if she can get herself a little more space in there. I can just picture her - her little face all scrunched up in concentration, pushing outwards in any direction she can. Could be true - who knows?

All I know is that I can actually feel my stomach expanding, and it's a very weird feeling.

What a sweetie…

I have the bestest husband ever!

At lunch, while I was hiking up my stupid maternity pants for the 4000th time today and laughing at myself as I did so, hubby said:

"I'm really gonna miss you like this."

Me: "Big and fat and ugly?"

Him: "No, that you've always got a smile on your face now."

Altogether everybody: AAAWWW!

My heart just melted. But he's right. I do always have perma-grin these days. I just can't help it. I've waited so long for this little girl to get here, and now that she's nearly here I just can't stop smiling. Even the crappiest day is made better when I rub the big belly and feel the kicking. It's like I'm a kid again and I'm so excited for Christmas that I can't sleep -- only about a thousand times more.

I think I'm gonna make hubby his favorite chocolate chip cookies tonight and do a few other things to show him how much I love it when he says things like that…

By popular request…

Okay everybody. Here you go. I've been resisting posting a pregnant Denice photo because, well, I've hated every picture ever taken of me, except for the one I use for my blog profile. I always think I'm looking pretty good until someone takes my picture, and then I think UUGG! Does my chin really stick out that far? Did I forget to put make-up on this morning?

Plus, until last week I didn't have much of a bump to show off. I mean, there was definitely one there, but if you didn't know me and know that I was pregnant, you would probably just think I've packed on quite a few pounds lately.

But then two weeks ago I was absolutely RAVENOUS for a week and ate everything that crossed my path, and my stomach expanded exponentially overnight. Honestly. I wore the same pair of pants two days in a row, and on Thursday they would cover my tummy, but on Friday I had to wear the big band under my tummy because they wouldn't even come CLOSE to covering it.

So now there is definitely a good-sized bump to show off! And after scaring her yesterday, Gracie moved around so much that I think she changed position. I used to get kicked up high on my right side, but I've been getting kicked much lower and on the left side since yesterday morning. And I have this really hard round spot on my right side that kind of sticks out that didn't use to be there. I've been trying to decide if it's a bum or a head, but I don't know which. How do you tell?

I have to say, I'm having so much fun being pregnant. I've been really lucky to have a very easy pregnancy so far. I didn't throw up once, I've only had one cold that I had to suffer through without any medication, my back doesn't hurt yet and my feet only get a little bit swollen if I forget to get up and walk around a bit while I'm at work. My rib cage hurts a little at the end of the day, but it's not really enough to complain about. I've gained more weight than I would like, but fortunately I love to exercise so I know I can work that off later. I've still got 12 more weeks to go though. Maybe check back and see if I'm still this positive in January!

Until then, it's just so much fun to rub my tummy and talk to baby. And I'm starting to get really impatient about seeing her and getting life started with her. I know 12 weeks is still quite a way off, but like our new and very young reporter said this morning, "the weeks sure go by faster when you work at a newspaper!" And they really do. You are working so hard on such a short deadline that the days just fly by and you wonder where all the time went. So when I say I've only got 12 weeks left, people chuckle, but it feels like barely any time at all to me!

Good Reflexes . . . Check!

So, my life as a kind and loving mother is not getting off to a great start.
I accidentally scared the crap out of my unborn child this morning.

How on earth did I do that, you ask?

Well, for the last couple of years I've been using my cell phone's alarm clock function to wake me up in the morning. Our clock radio stays on hubby's side of the bed because he has to listen to the radio all night to sleep and I prefer quiet. And since we have to get up at different times in the morning, rather than reach over top of him, I've been setting my cell phone alarm on my side of the bed for me. It beeps and it vibrates at the same time and make a great big racket. It's pretty effective, actually.

But this morning I just wasn't ready to get up yet when it went off, so after I frantically grabbed for the snooze button to make the ringing and the buzzing stop, I absent-mindedly set it on my great big tummy and went back to sleep. And ten minutes later, it went off again while sitting on my tummy.

Which of course scared the crap out of my child. Poor Gracie made one of those startled jumps -- as much as you can when you're cramped into such a small space -- and then she started kicking the crap out me. Much like her father when you try to wake him up in the morning, come to think of it…

Anyway, I felt AWFUL! It's probably not fun to be all nice and cozy and sound asleep and then have your home suddenly start to vibrate and beep. I'm pretty sure I'd be doing some kicking too. At least we know her hearing and her reflexes work just fine!

Crazy week

Well, it's a good thing that I didn't sign up for National Blog Posting Month. I had originally planned to take part in the contest, in which the only thing you really had to do was post on your blog every single day in November and you could possibly win some prizes.

But it's November 4 and had I signed up, I'd already be disqualified because this is my first November post. Oh well. I had one of those crazy weeks that were good and bad at the same time.

A week ago, my husband's grandmother died. But then my nephew Max was born! So I took the afternoon off work Monday and whipped down to Lethbridge to see brand new baby boy. But then Tuesday I had to work until 3:30 a.m. to get all my work done, and then get up early Wednesday because it was my turn to open the office (it's a 6 person office, and we all take turns on who actually has to be there at 9 a.m. to open the doors. Nice, huh?). The paper was done and sent to press at 7:30 p.m., then I jumped into my car and raced to Calgary before Motherhood Maternity closed because Grandma Betty's funeral was Thursday and I had ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO WEAR. Not the "I hate everything in my closet and I need new clothes" nothing to wear. But the "my tummy somehow expanded three sizes in one week and now none of my pants cover my tummy and none of my sweaters are long enough to cover the gap" nothing to wear. I made it just in time, came home and crashed.

The less said about funeral day the better. Let's just say it was not a fun day.

Then yesterday, I was just exhausted. After work I crashed, and I crashed hard. I need so much more sleep these days again. I've hit the third trimester and I'm almost as tired as I was in the first. But not quite. At least I haven't fallen asleep at my desk at work yet.

So today is super laundry day! And wash all the floors, clean out the fridge, take the bottles to the recycle depot, and organize baby's room day. And if I have time I'm going to take my film of Max to get developed and post some unbelievably cute baby pictures for all to see! (Yes, I know. I'm the very last person left on earth still using a film camera.)