Probably TMI…

Well friends, today is the day that I reveal to you what a sick, twisted, and self-centred individual I really am. Because out of all the pressing world matters that I could be writing about, today, I'm going to write about my zit. That's right, my zit.

I currently have the HUGEST zit I've ever had in my entire life – and that includes the really big one I had on my chin when I was about 15, and while attending some sort of school dance, a guy I was dancing with asked: "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but what's wrong with your chin?"

So what? You must be wondering. Why on God's Green Earth are you making us read about your stupid zit?

BECAUSE IT'S IN MY EAR!
AND IT'S REALLY BIG!
AND IT REALLY HURTS!

It's one of those ones that start about two miles beneath your skin and it now encompasses the entire inside part of my outer ear, and all I want to do is pop it. It's all I can think about. The pressure and the dull ache from the inside of my ear is driving me crazy, and I've spent every spare moment today looking in the mirror, trying to figure out how I can get at it.

Because here's my gross confession: I love to pop those giant disgusting zits. I don't know what it is, but there's something really satisfying to me in popping a zit. I think it's because I hate the thought that there's a deposit of disgusting pus just underneath my skin, and when I see it ooze out in one long squiggle, I know it's gone and I can feel better again. Or something like that. I don't really know.

But I can't get this one. It's in a spot where I physically can't get at it. And it hurts when I lay on it, it hurts when I touch it; it just generally hurts.

I suppose I should just wait for it to go away on it's own, but control freaks like me just aren't zen enough to let things just go away. We have to be pro-active! We have to take action to MAKE it go away!

I'm going back to the mirror.

Question of the Day

Is it wrong to purposely sit and cuddle on the couch with your nauseous child, secretly hoping that said couch might just get vomited on, thereby wrecking the wretchedly ugly old thing and speeding up the process of talking your husband into buying a new one?

Yes?

Then I didn't do that today. Nope. Nosiree. And I definitely didn't let her lay there for a half hour and watch the Backyardigans either.

She didn't puke on it anyway.

Just what time is it?

This daylight savings time has really wrecked my time clock. It's 1:24 a.m. and I'm still awake. I put Gracie to bed at 11:30 p.m. because she had a miraculous 3 hour afternoon nap, then I cleaned the kitchen, made oatmeal muffins, cleaned the kitchen again, did some laundry, tidied up the living room, ate some muffins, folded some laundry, ate some muffins, read some blogs…and now here I am. Everybody went to bed hours ago and my body still thinks it should be awake.

How 'bout you? Did daylight savings time screw with your inner clock?

Bring a cup of coffee. I wrote a novel today…

One year ago today, I woke up to my alarm clock ringing at 5 a.m. I remember thinking that it was pretty rude to make a woman wake up at 5 a.m. in order to get to the hospital by 7 a.m. for a scheduled induction. Shouldn't you let the woman have one last morning of sleep if you are purposely going to send her into labour today? That was my thought as I drug my tired butt out of bed and got into the shower.

But once the water started pouring over me and I started to wake up a bit, the butterflies started in my stomach and the nervousness kicked in. Just how much was this going to hurt? I really, really wanted to avoid the epidural, but how do you know how you will feel in the moment while you're gripped with pain?

An hour later we were in the car, bags packed, headed to the hospital in Calgary. We arrived, parked, then wandered and wandered until we finally found the right room for the induction. I was the only woman scheduled that morning, so hubby and I had the room all to ourselves. I went to the bathroom, put on my gown, went back the room, heard they were going to strap me to the monitor and make me stay still for an hour -- so I went to the bathroom again.



She applied the gel to my cervix and I stayed put for an hour. "Come back at 2 p.m., whether you've started contractions or not," the nurse told us. If you haven't started yet, we'll give you more. Often, we have to do this a couple times for it to work."

I started having contractions in the car before we even made it out of the city. By the time we reached Airdrie, I could hardly sit in my seat. Hubby decided we should stop at Blockbuster and rent a movie so there would be something for me to take my mind off the pain until we went back to the hospital. I thought it was a good idea, but wasn't sure I'd be able to walk through the store. Turned out it wasn't open yet so we just went home…

I love the TV show Friends, and we own all 10 seasons on DVD, so hubby put one of the seasons in for me. I have no idea which one, because for the first time in my life, I couldn't care less. All I could do is kneel on the floor and put my head on the couch, because that was the only comfortable position I could find. Hubby went to McDonalds to get some lunch for me, but I just couldn't eat it.

Finally, at 12:30 p.m., Nate decided he better put me in the car before I started refusing to go. I thought we should wait a bit longer, 'cause I didn't want to drive all the way there and then find out it was too early and have to go back home again. Turns out hubby made a good decision. By the time we got the hospital again, the contractions were close enough together that I could only go about 10 steps before I had to stop. When we reached the labour and delivery ward, all I could do was drape myself over the front desk.

"I'm guessing you're in labour!" the sing-songy nurse trilled. I wanted to say something really nasty, but all I could get out was a very breathy "YES!" She helped me to a bed in a small dark room, gave me a gown to change into and pulled the curtains around me. As soon as I had changed into the gown and managed to get myself on the bed, my water broke. The contractions suddenly intensified about 10 times, and I found myself hardly able to breath through them.

I was trying to find new coping mechanisms for this new development, and I must not have been doing a very good job, because from the other side of the curtain, I could hear a nurse say to another woman: "I'm sorry honey, these are just Braxton-Hicks contractions. When you're really in labour, you'll sound like her!"

Soon after that, my nurse came back to check me and decided it was time to put me in a delivery room -- they were really slow that day so there were a bunch just sitting empty. Might as well put me in there where there was lots more room and Nathan could be a bit more comfy too.

And I must confess, after that, the events are a bit of a blur. I remember refusing the epidural and deciding to try the laughing gas, since that was the only pain relief option that wouldn't do any damage to Gracie. I don't think it worked all that well, but I did notice when I had sucked the whole tank dry. Mostly, it helped me with my breathing because I had to really concentrate and breathe correctly through the contractions -- if I started to hyperventilate a bit through a really bad one, the nurses would have a fit and come and make me slow my breathing down. Then I remember saying: "Maybe I will try a little morphine now…" about 12 times, and nobody making any move to get me some. Oh well.

After what hadn't seemed like a very long time to me, I started to feel that overwhelming need to push. A doctor checked me out and said that it was okay to start, so I did -- and Oh My God did that ever feel good! I have never felt such relief in my whole life.

And then a different doctor came to check and said I was only 9.5 centimetres dilated and that I would have to wait and stop pushing. I could have cried. I think I might have…I'll have to ask Nate. The next hour of trying not to push through each contraction when every single muscle in my body was trying to push that baby out was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I will never forget those muscles gripping my body, pushing, tightening, hardening -- and being told to try to relax them and do nothing. Like I had some kind of control over it or something.

Finally, FINALLY I was allowed to push again, and the relief was blissful. I remember that the pushing part was extremely hard physical work, but I don't really remember it being painful, to be honest. It was just such a relief to get to work with my body instead of trying to work against it, that it felt like heaven. I pushed for nearly an hour before I finally got Gracie's giant head out. Once her head was out, I remember thinking "Okay! I'm almost done! After the head, the shoulders are just a couple pushes and I'm done…right?"

Wrong. Oh so very wrong.

Gracie had her arms crossed in front of her, with her two little hands touching each shoulder. I pushed and I pushed and I pushed and I pushed and nothing was happening. Nobody would tell me what was going on -- just to push a little harder. Then suddenly, with the next contraction, I felt an absolute searing pain. I remember screaming that this hurt SO MUCH and the doctors saying I just had to keep pushing. I couldn't see what they were doing, but afterwards my Mom told me that the doctor had had to reach a hand in and first grab one of Gracie's arms and pull it out, then pull out her other arm with the next contraction because her face was starting to turn blue.

A few more pushes and she was out. They grabbed her and ran, and took her to a corner of the room where I think three different pediatricians were waiting to look at her. Which totally freaked me out -- and once again, nobody would tell me anything. "She's just fine, they're just checking her," is all the doctor still with me would say. Gracie wasn't making any noise, and Nate and I were getting really scared -- and then she finally started to cry. (Five days later, we would find out that the doctor had broken her collarbone while yanking her out of there, but that's another story…)



They let Nate and my Mom go over there and take pictures and hold her, but I was still in the bed. The doctor was stitching me up -- and stitching and stitching and stitching -- and everybody else had seen and held this beautiful girl but me. I WAS STARTING TO GET ANGRY. (As a side note - the doctor who was stitching me up didn't know I hadn't had an epidural or any painkillers of any kind, and just started stitching me up. And when I yelled, she looked up and said: "That hurt?")

Then eventually, when they were done stitching me up, I got to hold my sweet Gracie, and it was love at first sight.



Grace Amelia Elizabeth Anderson was born at 6:57 p.m., February 5, 2007. She was 8 lbs, 10.75 oz.

Goodbye Santana and Kaydance

I can't stop thinking about them, those two little girls from the Yellow Quill Reserve in Saskatchewan. They died on Tuesday night, outside in the bitter, bitter cold, wearing nothing but diapers and t-shirts, trying to follow their father.

One-year-old Santana and three-year-old Kaydance were following their drunk father to a neighbours house. They didn't have jackets. They didn't have mittens. They didn't even have pants or socks or shoes. They were outside, the wind chill dipping the temperature down to -50 C, trying to follow daddy.

And I can't stop crying. Because all I can think about are these two little girls, wandering around outside in the cold, first whimpering, then crying, then screaming, asking daddy to come and help them. And then I can see daddy getting further and further away, not turning around, not paying any attention to his babies, and the girls getting colder and colder. It would take only two or three minutes in those temperatures before those girls wouldn't be able to walk anymore. So they probably sat down in the snow, not able to move, not able to talk, not able to do anything but watch daddy walk away. They were probably terrified.

They died terrified, in horrific pain, all alone, in the bitter cold and the dark of night.

And all I can do is cry.

http://ca.news.yahoo.com/s/capress/080130/national/wea_girls_frozen

Proper Pronunciation

Gracie's been starting to talk a lot more lately. Lots of times, she's just repeating what I'm saying and she never says it again. But sometimes it sticks, and she says it often. And sometimes, it's not really a whole word, but the first syllable or two.

For instance, when she is hungry and wants her bottle, she'll give me the sign language I taught her for milk and say: BOT! She's said that so much lately that her father and I both have started calling it BOT! too. But you can't fool her. She knows the word is bottle…

Me, yesterday afternoon: "Are you hungry? Would you like a BOT?"

Gracie, looking me right in the face, very seriously: "BOT-L mum! BOT-L!"

Thoughts for the Day…

1. Putting snow boots on a toddler is not for the faint of heart. It requires relentless perseverance, and should be attempted about 20 minutes before you need to leave the house. Trust me.

2. If you call Shaw Cable at 10:30 p.m. for assistance with uploading the temporary website you only spent five minutes creating because you have no idea what you are doing, the guy on the other end will actually be very nice. And you don't have to wait on hold for two hours before talking to real people either; the phone rang three times and then I actually got to speak to a real person! I'm going to start calling help lines at 10:30 p.m. from now on…

3. Working from home is GREAT! I spend my days with sweet Gracie, and my evenings in front of my Mac designing pretty ads and fancy-schmancy new logos. It's hard, but I think I made the right decision -- going back to work at the newspaper wouldn't have worked for me.

4. The Gracie Giggle is the world's sweetest sound. And the older she gets, the more I get to hear it.

Maybe I should stop checking my Sitemeter…

To all those who are here because you Googled "Pillsbury Gingerbread Cookie Dough", I'm very sorry. The only info you will get is my crazy ramblings about how much I love it.

I've written about lots of other things here at denice-isms but my traffic has gone up three-fold since I wrote those two posts, mostly because when you Google Pillsbury Gingerbread Cookie Dough, I'm like the third entry that comes up.

I'm trying hard not to think about what that means: like perhaps I should be worried that out of all the things I've done in my life, my love of Pillsbury Gingerbread Cookies is what I am now most known for.

But instead, I am just going to be flattered that I am known for anything at all, and invite all of you who arrived here by mistake to stay and read awhile. :)

Is there a Vogue for workout wear?

Clearly, I am not gym chic.

I went to the gym tonight, like all the other New Year's Resolutioners in Airdrie, to use the treadmill. It was 9 p.m. and the place was packed to the rafters. And every single one of them was dressed in a fancy-schmancy new workout outfit. Every single one of them! Apparently, when you make a New Year's Resolution to get in shape, you also must purchase fancy new workout clothes to make it a done deal.

I did not do this. I put on my favorite comfy yoga pants and a slightly baggy t-shirt, so as not to show my, um, less than perfect physique, and headed off the to gym. I knew I didn't exactly look great, but I figured there would be a couple more people like me there.

Nope. Not one. Just rows and rows of brand new lycra and co-ordinating water bottles. Oh well. Perhaps in a few weeks all those new outfits will be staying home and me and my baggy sweats will fit in just fine.

Best Christmas Ever!

I have the bestest hubby in the whole country. No, the whole world. No, the whole universe.
Because my sweet, wonderful hubby got me one of these wonderful things for Christmas!



It's an iPod Touch, and I can't stop using it. I find it to be especially helpful when Gracie is so tired that she nearly falls asleep while eating her supper, but when put in her bed just cries and cries and cries until she finally falls asleep. Drowns out that crying real nice, and helps to keep Mommy sane!

Tomorrow, we'll see how much Gracie likes riding in Mommy's jogging stroller while Mommy ignores her because she's listening to her iPod!

Hope everybody had a wonderful Christmas!

One small step for Gracie…

Gracie walked! We have a walking girl! She left the safety of the coffee table and walked four steps over to get me, four times in a row!

Actually, "walked" isn't exactly the right word. It was more like running and then diving when she got near me. But she was doing it unassisted, and so I remain steadfast in my excitement over this new development.

Do I have a picture to post? Um, no. But I will, just as soon as I can get her to do it while someone else is in the room. What a wonderful, wonderful Christmas.

Merry Christmas everybody! Hope you have a wonderful day too.

I can do it MYSELF!

I've been up to my eyeballs these past couple of weeks. Up to my eyeballs in design work, Christmas shopping, Christmas wrapping and laundry. Oh, the never-ending laundry.

But I had to take a couple minutes to tell you about yesterday, which I am now calling "Gracie's Super-Duper I Can Do It MYSELF Day!!!"

Usually, Gracie is quite happy to let Mommy do everything for her. Insistent, in fact. But yesterday, she decided that lots of things that Mommy does were things she could do all by herself thank you very much, and she just took over.

When we had our morning bottle, she held it all by herself. When it was breakfast time she wanted to eat all by herself, so I just put all the stuff I was going to feed her on her little highchair tray and let her have at it.

Later, we were doing some walking around (still assisted by me, but we're down to holding onto just one of my hands!) and she decided she needed a soother. So she walked me over to the little box on the coffee table where I keep them, grabbed the box, turned it over so all the soothers fell out, grabbed one and stuck it right in her mouth à la Maggie Simpson, then kept on motoring…

Then, when it was bathtime, she grabbed the wash cloth I was using to wash her and rubbed it up and down her tummy and washed herself! And after the bath, when I was brushing her hair, she grabbed the brush and started brushing her very own hair. It was so adorable I thought I might cry.

So here she is, 10 months old and already wanting to do things herself. I can't decide if this is a very, very good thing, or a very, very bad thing…

P.S. I'm not going to tell you how much she's been sleeping at night lately, because:
a. Every time I write about how well she's sleeping I jinx it, and
b. When you guys find out, you'll all come to my house and kill me in a fit of jealousy.
Let's just say I'm getting lots of work done at night and I still get to sleep in a bit in the morning. But I'm pretty sure this wonderful sleeping schedule will go all to hell when we start our Christmas traveling on Friday, so I'm enjoying it while I can. Maybe I'll go to Blockbuster tonight and rent The Simpsons Movie and hubby and I will have one quiet night together before Christmas…

If I don't make it back here to cyberspace before then, MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!!!!!!

No more gingerbread cookies for me

So, I was starting to feel pretty good about myself, body image-wise. (Which is totally new for me, but that's an entirely different post).

Anyway, I was feeling pretty good about myself, because after months of eating right and exercising, I'm now just 5 pounds away from reaching my pre-pregnancy weight. Which admittedly isn't saying much, since I needed to lose 10 pounds when I got pregnant, but losing 20 pounds is losing 20 pounds, whether you still have 15 more to go or not. I can fit back into a lot of my old clothes again, and I was actually starting to not hate the sight of myself in my mirror.

Life was good. I was happy.

And then my next door neighbour dropped by for coffee.
AND ASKED ME IF I WAS EXPECTING AGAIN!

Now to be fair, I was planning to exercise during Gracie's nap so I had just put on a fairly form-fitting yoga outfit which does a very good job of accentuating my huge spare tire. And she back-pedalled really quickly when my reply was "Nope. Just still fat." by saying that it was just that I was Looking So Good Lately that the round tummy looked out of place. Hurrumpf.

Guess I gotta lay off the Gingerbread Cookies.
Merry Christmas. Bah Humbug.

I FOUND IT!

Okay, you can all stop panicking. (Because I know you were all very worried about my lack of Pillsbury Gingerbread Cookie Dough, despite the busy lives you lead). I now have the cookie dough downstairs in my fridge, and as soon as I'm done writing this, I will be filling up my cookie jar with it's yummy goodness.

And it's all because of you, wonderful, wonderful Tracy! I figured if you found some way up there in Yellowknife, it had to be here in Airdrie by now -- and there it was, all yummy and waiting for me at the Real Canadian Superstore.

So, as my sorta, kinda holiday gift to you, I'm going to let you all in on a little secret, just in case my rambling about this the Pillsbury Gingerbread Cookie dough has made you a little curious and you also have a tube of the yummy stuff in your fridge. What you do is follow the directions they give you for making Ginger Snaps, except that instead of baking them for 12 to 14 minutes like they say, bake them for more like 8 to 10 minutes (depending on your stove), and they will come out all chewy and soft and melt-in-your-mouth yummy!

Now, since I dieted and dieted and dieted until I can now finally get back into my pre-pregnancy clothes, I am going downstairs to bake me a bunch of cookies and blow my diet all to hell.

Merry Christmas!!!!

P.S. I do actually know how to bake cookies from scratch -- I make chocolate chip cookies for Nate all the time. Just so you know I'm not super lazy or anything. I just really like that dough!

Oh where oh where have the gingerbread cookies gone…

I'm starting to get worried. I can't find the Pillsbury Gingerbread Cookie Dough anywhere.

Every Christmas, Pillsbury puts out tubes of Sugar cookie dough, which is alright if you like sugar cookies, but I don't; and Gingerbread cookie dough, which is the most wonderfully yummy delight you will ever have the privilege to digest. I look forward to that dough, well, like a kid looks forward to Christmas. And when it finally arrives, I buy like, 20 tubes of cookie dough and store them in my freezer so I can have them all year long. Of course, I've usually eaten them all by July…

I love these cookies so much that this time last year, even though we had already decided that Gracie's name would be Gracie, I was seriously considering talking Nate into calling her Ginger instead. I thought it was a really unique old-fashioned name that no one else in her class would have -- and just think of all the fun we would have making "her" Gingerbread cookies! Those would be good memories people!

Anyway, they have had the sugar cookie dough in stores for quite some time now, but the Gingerbread cookies are nowhere to be found. And I was really, really looking forward to those cookies! This year, I was, um, home a little more often than usual, what with being on maternity leave and all, and I kinda ate my whole stockpile of gingerbread cookies by March.

So somebody, please tell me you've seen them in YOUR grocery store and I just have to patient. It's just not Christmas without those cookies!

I'm a big girl now…

So, we've hit a major milestone in the life of Gracie. On Sunday I decided to throw caution to the wind and turn her car seat around to forward facing, even though she is only 9 months old. I decided that since my car seat instructions said you could turn the kid around when she reaches 22 pounds and Gracie is now 24 pounds and wearing 12-18 months (and sometimes 1T!) sized clothing, that I would ignore the dire warnings from the health nurses that she must be 1 year old before she can sit forwards or the world will come to an end.

You see, I drive a 1996 Ford Taurus; and I don't know how many of you have been in the back seat of a 1996 Ford Taurus (or what you were doing there), but if you have, you will have noticed that the seats and the back window are very, very sloped. So no matter what position I put that car seat in, the only thing poor Gracie got to look at was the roof and the sky.

She also hated not being able to see me, and I don't think she understood where I went while she was all alone in the back seat. It got so that I just put her in the seat and listened to the crying all the way to wherever we were going, because if I talked to her, I just made it worse. It was like she was saying: "Well if you're in here, why don't you come and get me? Where the hell are you?????"

So I turned it around, one-year-old rule be damned. I figure she's as big as most one-year-olds right now, so why on earth am I waiting for a magic number?

And boy does she love it! Yesterday I took her to the grocery store, and I wish you could have seen it. It was the best car ride I have ever had with her. She just grinned, and grinned and grinned. She could finally see Mommy. She could finally figure out where I was. She kept saying "Hi!" so that I would turn around and say hi back, and then she laughed her little head off. And she even waved to the people in the car sitting next to us at the red light.

I think I made the right decision.

BEST DAY EVER!

I just had the best day ever!

It started this morning with my first-ever day at the spa, which was a birthday present from my very sweet mother-in-law. I got a one-hour massage, a pedicure and a facial while Nate's mom babysat Gracie. Oh my, oh my, it was heaven. I fell asleep during the massage, it was so damn relaxing. My feet have never looked this good, ever. (Except for maybe when I was a baby and had those cute little baby feet.) And the facial was a little weird, but my skin sure feels nice now!

Then we needed a few things, so Gracie and I went and did a little shopping, and we had the best time! We were walking down an aisle of Christmas things, and there was this funny Santa on the shelf that she was reaching for so we went over to take a look. Turns out, when you turn it on, he shakes his little tush to that techno-dance song that goes: "I like to move it move it." Well, Gracie thought that was the funniest thing she had ever seen. She laughed and laughed and laughed! I've never seen her laugh so hard before, and so of course it made me laugh. Pretty soon people were coming from aisles over to see what was so funny - and I got to play the proud mommy who had everyone in the store admiring her little cutiepie.

But wait -- there's more!

When we got home and I was giving Gracie her bath, she started talking to me. Not real talking of course, because the only words she has are "Mumumumum" and "Dadadadad". But she was looking me right in the face and talking up a storm, almost like she was telling me all the fun things she had done today while I was gone. She's never done that before. In fact, until about two weeks ago, she didn't talk much at all. She would play without hardly saying a word, with a cute little grin on her face if she was happy, or a look of serious concentration if she was trying to figure something out. The only time she really said much of anything was when she was upset, so it was more like whining and crying as opposed to baby babbling. Then about two weeks ago she started kind of baby babbling and talking while she played, and it's been so much fun! But tonight; tonight was special. Instead of babbling at the toy she was playing with, she was babbling to me. She was telling me something, and it was important to her. I just wish I knew what she was saying…

But wait -- there's more!

Nate decided we should have pizza for supper, so we ordered in and I didn't have to cook. Then Gracie just skipped her second nap of the day and went to bed 2 hours earlier than usual, so I actually got to be a lazy coach potato and watch Grey's Anatomy.

Then, look! I had time to write a blog post! That almost never happens anymore!

Now, I'm going to bed and it's only midnight!
What a wonderful, wonderful day.

Hi ho, hi ho, it's back to work I go…

So I'm kinda sorta back to work now, and life has gotten very chaotic. Gracie still doesn't play well by herself for very long, so I have to do most of my graphic design work while she naps and after she goes to bed at night -- which means every spare moment that I used to have to myself is now spent working.

Which means I have just enough time to read everybody else's blog, but not much time to write my own.

But I've got a fancy-schmancy new toy to play with! My very generous inlaws gave us a new JVC Everio video camera, and as soon as I figure out how to do it, I'm gonna post a short video clip of my little cutie pie for all of you to see.

Just as soon as I get this Volleyball Provincial Playoffs program done. And do some laundry. And mop my kitchen floor, 'cause I spilled something sticky on it three days ago and still haven't found the time to mop it up.

But then I'm posting a video. I promise!

If you give a kid a cookie…

I'm a terrible, horrible, awful mother. Yesterday, I did the unthinkable.

I fed my 8-month-old a Mint Oreo Cookie, and I'm not sorry I did it.

What led me to this madness? What terrible events could have occurred for me to do such a dastardly thing? Lack of sleep my friends. Extreme lack of sleep.

You see, Gracie was a little out of whack, sleeping-wise. It started about two weeks ago when she got a bit of a cold. She kept waking up in the night either with a coughing fit or because her poor little head was all plugged up and she couldn't breathe. If she was tired enough, we would rock in the rocking chair until she fell asleep again. But mostly, once she was awake there was no going back to sleep, no matter how hard I tried. So we would be up for a couple hours in the middle of the night until she could sleep again; and then she would need a big nap the next day.

Pretty soon, the daytime naps were getting longer and the night-time waking up time was getting longer too, until we got to the point where she was sleeping most of the day away, then waking up in the evening and not going to bed until 2 a.m., then waking up again at 6 a.m. And Denice was starting to get grumpy. I have a really hard time taking naps in the daytime because, well, I have things to do. And living on four hours of sleep just wasn't doing it for me.

By Sunday, I was at the end of my rope. I needed some sleep. I decided since Gracie was over her cold, I was going to keep her awake for most of the day. And as I was sitting next to her on the floor, eating a couple of Mint Oreo Cookies for a little sugar rush to keep me awake, a little thought quietly ran through my head: "If these cookies are keeping ME awake…"

I pulled another Oreo out of the package, took one of the cookie pieces off and hesitated for a moment as I contemplated if this really was a good idea, or if it was my sleep deprived brain trying to convince me it was a good idea -- and Gracie made the decision for me. She grabbed the cookie right out of my hand and stuffed it directly into her mouth. Well, mostly she just sucked on the icing because she doesn't have any teeth yet, but you get the idea.

So I let my Gracie have sugar for the first time, and boy did it work! She stayed awake most of the day, went to bed at the very reasonable hour of 10 p.m., and slept straight through until 8:30 a.m., just like she used to do.

And I'm not sorry. Incredibly guilt-ridden for feeding my child junk at such a young age -- you betcha. But sorry? Can't say that I am.

Snotty Kleenexes everywhere…

So tired. So very tired. Gracie sick, not sleeping. Mommy not sleeping either. No time to shower, let alone blog. Was I this tired when she was brand new and not sleeping? I don't remember -- so I guess I just answered my own question. Must sleep now. Will write later.

The sweetest word in the English language:

"Mum…Mum…Mum…Mum…," said quietly by your 8-month-old while she's snuggling into your arms as she drifts off to sleep.

Oh, I had the best afternoon with Gracie today. She was grumpy this morning, so I managed to get her to take her afternoon nap early, and she woke up in the best mood!

She giggled and she smiled and she played with me for hours. I gave her a soda cracker for a snack and she took one bite, then shoved it in my mouth so I could have a bite, then a bite for her and a bite for me until it was all gone. We've been working on kisses lately -- usually I ask her if I can have one and then she gives me one, but today she gave me many slobbery baby kisses without being asked. And then she snuggled in when it was time for sleep and just kept saying mum…mum…mum… until she was sound asleep in my arms.

Boy do I love my life. Crazy busy and tiring, yes, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

It's going by so fast…

So I'm shopping at the Real Canadian Superstore the other day, and it was totally New Baby Central. Everywhere I looked, bleary-eyed new mommies were wandering sleepily around the grocery store, and, as usual, I was trying to sneak a peek at all the teeny weeny babies sleeping in their infant seats. Not because I'm nosy, but because I just can't resist a teeny tiny baby.

Anyway, I'm looking at all these new mommies and I realized something very big: I'm no longer a member of the Bleary-Eyed New Mommy Club. My kid is big. Huge. Sitting up in the front of the shopping cart, eating the Gerber Graduates I'm doling out and trying to grab everything I take off the shelf so she can see what it is, then chew on it.

These days, unless she's having a particularly bad teething day and won't go to sleep, the only reason for me to be bleary-eyed is that I decided to stay up to watch the Colbert Report, which doesn't come on until 12:30 a.m. in our part of the country. I'm very well rested, most days I get to have a shower and put on make-up, and I hardly ever have to leave the house in a shirt that's been spit-up on.

And I didn't even notice it happening.

When Gracie was new, other new mommies and I would give each other the look as we passed each other. You know, the look that said, "I don't know you, but I understand that you are as tired as I am and I feel your pain." Then I would look at the mommies with big babies and think that that day was a lifetime away. Good Lord, it only took 8 months.

Where did the time go? And more importantly, is every year going to go by this fast?

How to scare the crap out of your husband…

So, I'm rocking Gracie to sleep in our rocking chair in the living room, singing my song of choice, "You are my Sunshine." I usually just sing the first verse of the song a few times and skip the second one, since it's really rather depressing, and then once I'm sick of singing that one over and over I just start humming.

Anyway, I'm rocking and I'm singing, and I notice that over yonder on the couch, hubby is also starting to get some droopy eyes. So I decide to change the lyrics a little bit, just to be funny. So my next time around the same verse, I start singing: "You're my two sunshines, my only sunshines. You both make me happy, when skies are grey…"

"WHAT????" Says hubby, now sitting straight up on the couch, no longer sleepy at all.

"What do you mean, what?" I say, clearly not understanding what's wrong.

"What do you mean BOTH?" He says, getting a little bit panicky now.

"Gracie and you. I thought you were looking a little sleepy over there."

"Oh thank god! I thought you were pregnant again!"

Best Thing Ever!

Wanna see the smiling-est baby that ever there was? Come on over to my house, and see the incredible transformation of the baby who last week wouldn't stop crying, and today won't stop smiling!

Yesterday we went to pick up the walker my hubby's parents bought us, and I tell you it's the best thing that ever happened to Gracie. My baby, who has never been a very smiley child, is now grinning ear to ear. I plunk her in that thing and she follows me wherever I go, grinning her big gummy grin and saying: "Mamamamamamama!"

Also fun: squealing with delight when she spots one of our cats, then chasing after them (and pretty fast!) until the kitty in question finds some place to go that the walker can't. Poor cats didn't know what hit them.

It's days like this I wish I had a digital camera so I could show you all the pure bliss on Gracie's face.

Boy, what a difference a day makes.

Thank you, thank you very much!

Thank you all so much for your kind words and suggestions this week. Boy did I need them. I was kind of getting a little nutsy, home all alone all day with a frustrated baby who doesn't understand why Mommy is so grumpy.

I tried a number of your suggestions. Jody, I tried putting her in my Peapod Cuddly Wrap to carry her around with me, but she hated it just as much as she did when she was teeny. So instead, I just carry her for awhile and do everything one handed. If I'm unloading the dishwasher I give her one of her plastic spoons to play with while I finish. And while doing the laundry I put her in the basket on top of the clothes and carry her up and down the two floors -- she thinks that's hilarious! The first day carrying a 22-pound seven-month-old around with one arm all day was a little tough, but boy you should feel my bicep now!

I also decided that she's probably bored with playing with the same toys and hanging out doing the same things all day long. I'm a bit of a homebody, and staying home for 4 or 5 days at a stretch really doesn't bother me. But I think Gracie needs a little extra stimulation. So I signed us up for the public library's BabyTime (she cried through the entire first session), and I'm looking into taking her to the pool (Julie will be proud). Since I'm currently on foot while Nate's truck is getting fixed, I've also taken her on a walk every day this week, and she really seemed to like that.

Also, shortly after I wrote that post, my inlaws called to say they bought us a walker while they were down in the States! Yayyy! We will be going to pick it up in a few days, but just knowing that it is coming is making me a happy lady. We do have an exersaucer and a jolly jumper, but she's been in them since she was three months old and is sick of them. Hopefully this walker will make things better.

So thank you all very much. All those things helped, but I also got to the bottom of WHY I was getting so nutsy and grumpy. Because honestly, this last 7 months have been the best 7 months of my life. Turns out, I really love being a stay-at-home Mom. For the first time in so many years I can't remember, I actually want to get out of bed in the morning. I spend all day playing with a sweet little cutie pie who seems to like my singing voice and loves it when I tickle her and flip her upside down. When she's sleeping I do some housework, bake some cookies, water my flowers, do a little redecorating -- all the things I wanted to do when I was working but didn't have time.

So when all the other women around me are talking about how they can't wait to get back to work, I always wonder why on earth you would WANT to go back to never-ending stress and 60 hour weeks. And that's when it hit me: other people don't have jobs with never-ending stress and 60 hour weeks. And for the first time I realized how much I was dreading going back to work -- even if it will be in my own home working for myself. And the whole time Gracie's been going through this grumpy phase, all I can think about is this: I have to start up my home-based business in 3 months, and what on earth will I do if she's still like this when I have to get some work done?

But I have decided I will cross that bridge when I get to it, and not worry about it until then. Three months is a long time in the life of Gracie -- a lot can change between now and then, and I'm probably worrying myself sick over nothing. So until then, I will change my expectation of how much I can get done in a day, and just enjoy my walking time with Gracie.

P.S. This may be a bit too much info for some, but I also decided that my birth control patch was making me a bit loopy. Anybody else try it and have trouble with it? I went to the doctor on Thursday and she's recommending an IUD. I think I will try it.

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.