Intermission

We're off tomorrow for our very first vacation EVER since the birth of the Boy. Yes, we've gone out for an evening, we've even (gasp!) gone away to Niagara overnight, but we've never actually left the country. Do I sound excited?? I hope so, cause hot damn I am. For anyone who doesn't know, we're going to the Big Apple to see some fabulous theatre (Painted Maypole: are Spelling Bee and Spring Awakening the shows that you would have booked? I'm curious.). I'm also ashamed to admit that we are spending a lot of money and flying to the US to sleep in. Is that too too absurd? How much money would you spend to sleep in for four days in a row? To eat when you want, rest when you want, and basically do whatever you want? To me, that's priceless. I will miss the Boy dreadfully, but OH, the sleep!

Please say a prayer that nothing goes wrong, and we get to have the trip of our dreams. I really need it right now.

And if y'all are missing me (ha!ha!) you could alway read my review of Evil Dead The Musical over at Mommy Blogs Toronto. Mama Drama is feeling kinda lonely, but luckily she's going to get her fix this weekend..

Hover

Despite the wilting Sunday heat, the Boy and I had a great time visiting with two very lovely ladies, Sage and Mme LaBrune. Although the state of washroom facilities in Toronto parks is deplorable. I had actually visited that exact washroom on my early morning run. In the course of less than a day, not only was the the toilet paper all gone (expected), but the toilet seat was removed entirely from the toilet (somewhat of a surprise). I, personally, don't want to touch a public toilet, much less exert effort removing the seat from the bowl. Still, there's nothing much more charming than a couple of two-year-olds shouting "Llama! Llama! Llama!!!" on the way to the zoo. Most of the animals were indoors due to the heat, but Mme L was captivated by the peacocks. The Boy - not so much. They were too loud for his newly tubed ears, and he wanted to see "somefin' else".

Sage and I were talking about her recent and my upcoming trips to New York, and I admitted something that rather surprised me. I am VERY much looking forward to going away, but the closer we get, the more apprehensive I am. I have never been away for the Boy for longer than a day, and although I trust my mother implicitly, the bottom line is: I don't trust anyone to watch the Boy as well as I (or Mr Earth) can. Yes, as much as I've scoffed and scorned at those mothers who are reluctant to let someone else care for their child, I think I am actually one of those moms. I am a bit shocked. I've always thought I was more of a here-take-the-kid-I'm-going-shopping-see-you-later kind of person, and out the door 2 seconds later. Have I been fooling myself?

The essence of the problem lies in the fact that I simply believe we know the Boy better than anyone else. Many times, I know what he's going to do or say, before he says or does it. For instance, 9 times out of 10, he can play on the play structure at the park completely independently. That 10th time though, he'll try to walk off the platform where there are no stairs, or go shooting head first down a slide that's way too big for him. That's why I'm not the mom who sits on the bench and watches him play from afar. I'm right there, climbing the stairs and sliding down slides that are way too small for me. I'm terrified of the 10th time. I'm terrified that other people - people who don't know him as well as I do - will feel confident in his abilities, and inadvertedly let him take that precarious step off the platform.

Although, I also wonder if I'm not somehow limiting him by being such a hovercraft. Maybe there's tons of things he could do, if only I wasn't watching out for every perceivable danger. Maybe what he really needs is time away from me to spread his wings and soar. But I will miss kissing that sweet cheek each morning, and feeling his Buddha belly against mine.

Pregnant Pause

I was all set to write a post beweeping my outcast state. You see, no one wants to hire a pregnant actor. Or, perhaps they do, but the roles are few and far between, and I'm not playing in the Big Leagues, so those roles don't filter down to me.

I've been somewhat depressed lately, troubling deaf heaven with my bootless cries, because I am finally at a point where I feel I can do a show again. Where I feel I deserve to do a show again. The Boy is weaned. My supplementary schooling is over. I'm finally at a point where I feel I can commit to outside activities with relatively no guilt, and what do I do? I go and get myself pregnant. On purpose (well, if not entirely on purpose, at least not by mistake). I can only look upon myself for this minor quandry.

Read more of my beweeping at MommyBlogsToronto..

What the Earth needs now is Love

***Caution: long and overwhelming sentimental and indulgent..***

I am feeling terribly wistful and nostalgic these days. It makes me want to re-read all my favourite books, only I don’t have time. So I went in search of what I love most about my favourite books and thought I would share them with you. Call it my “10-minute Love Fix” if you will. If you could use a few minutes of romance, read on… and let me know what your favourite romantic books are, will you? I could use a really good book..one I haven't read a million times before, that is.


5. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Sadly, I have only lately come to a true appreciation of Austen’s novels. I know, I know! How could someone like me NOT like them in the past? What can I say? I was young and foolish. After seeing Colin Firth speak these words, though, my heart was lost..

``If you will thank me,'' he replied, ``let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you."

'Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, ``You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever."

'Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The happiness which this reply produced, was such as he had probably never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him; but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of feelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.

They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects.


4. A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton-Porter

A true gem of a novel that is often overlooked. I grew up with this story in my head and my heart. The passage will not reveal the true beauty of this novel, you simply must read the whole book..

Before Elnora missed her, Alice, who had gone to investigate, came flying across the shadows and through the sunshine waving a paper. She thrust it into Elnora's hand.

"There is a man-person -- a stranger-person!" she shouted. "But he knows you! He sent you that! You are to be the doctor! He said so! Oh, do hurry! I like him heaps!"

Elnora read Edith Carr's telegram to Philip Ammon and understood that he had been ill, that she had been located by Edith who had notified him. In so doing she had acknowledged defeat. At last Philip was free. Elnora looked up with a radiant face.

"I like him 'heaps' myself!" she cried. "Come on children, we will go tell him so."

Terry and Alice ran, but Elnora had to suit her steps to Little Brother, who was her loyal esquire, and would have been heartbroken over desertion and insulted at being carried. He was rather dragged, but he was arriving, and the emergency was great, he could see that.

"She's coming!" shouted Alice.

"She's going to be the doctor!" cried Terry.

"She looked just like she'd seen angels when she read the letter," explained Alice.

"She likes you 'heaps!' She said so!" danced Terry. "Be waiting! Here she is!"

Elnora helped Little Brother up the steps, then deserted him and came at a rush. The stranger-person stood holding out trembling arms.

"Are you sure, at last, runaway?" asked Philip Ammon.

"Perfectly sure!" cried Elnora.

"Will you marry me now?"

"This instant! That is, any time after the noon boat comes in."

"Why such unnecessary delay?" demanded Ammon.


3. Anne of the Island by LM Montgomery

Oh, how many times have I read this passage? Out of all the Anne books, surely this is the best one, hands down. How can you not love a line like “shining with all the love-rapture of countless generations”? I did not see my face when Mr Earth proposed, but I’m pretty sure that’s how I looked…

Gilbert was not to be thus sidetracked.

"I have a dream," he said slowly. "I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it, a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends -- and YOU!"

Anne wanted to speak but she could find no words. Happiness was breaking over her like a wave. It almost frightened her.

"I asked you a question over two years ago, Anne. If I ask it again today will you give me a different answer?"

Still Anne could not speak. But she lifted her eyes, shining with all the love-rapture of countless generations, and looked into his for a moment. He wanted no other answer.


2. The Blue Castle by LM Montgomery

People tout the Anne books as the best that Montgomery have to offer, but clearly they have not read The Blue Castle. Possibly my favourite book of ALL TIME. I have never identified so much with one character, nor read a book as many times as this. The line “the little low laugh of the triumphant lover” echoes unbidden in my head whenever I’m feeling romantic…

"Love you! Girl, you're in the very core of my heart. I hold you there like a jewel. Didn't I promise you I'd never tell you a lie? Love you! I love you with all there is of me to love. Heart, soul, brain. Every fibre of body and spirit thrilling to the sweetness of you. There's nobody in the world for me but you, Valancy."

"You're--a good actor, Barney," said Valancy, with a wan little smile.

Barney looked at her.
"So you don't believe me--yet?"

"I--can't."

"Oh--damn!" said Barney violently.

Valancy looked up startled. She had never seen this Barney. Scowling! Eyes black with anger. Sneering lips. Dead-white face.

"You don't want to believe it," said Barney in the silk-smooth voice of ultimate rage. "You're tired of me. You want to get out of it--free from me. You're ashamed of the Pills and the Liniment, just as she was. Your Stirling pride can't stomach them. It was all right as long as you thought you hadn't long to live. A good lark--you could put up with me. But a lifetime with old Doc Redfern's son is a different thing. Oh, I understand--perfectly. I've been very dense--but I understand, at last."

Valancy stood up. She stared into his furious face. Then--she suddenly laughed.
"You darling!" she said. "You do mean it! You do really love me! You wouldn't be so enraged if you didn't."

Barney stared at her for a moment. Then he caught her in his arms with the little low laugh of the triumphant lover.


1. The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams

OK, technically this is not a love story. On the other hand, it is the only story that really approaches the true meaning of love for me. It was read by my father at our wedding, and will always have a special place in my heart…

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

Contested

There seems to be such a dichotomy going in the blogosphere lately. On one hand, you have the women who are posting about how blogging has empowered them, and on the other hand, you have the people who are considering whether or not to stop blogging altogether. I'm on an emotional rollercoaster these days as it is, but after reading posts on either end of the spectrum, I feel rather like the child sitting in the middle of the Chalk Circle, wondering if his two mothers are going to pull him apart at the seams.

When I read about the empowerment that blogging bestows, I am uplifted and certain that I am spending my time in a worthwhile pursuit. But everytime I read about a blogger who is quitting, or taking a vacation, my heart sinks just a little lower in my breast and my stomach turns to lead. While I don't look to other bloggers to tell me whether or not to continue, they are most certainly the reason that I do.

What makes me the saddest of all is that when someone decides to stop blogging, it's almost never seems to be because the reason that they started their blog is gone. People all have their own reasons for starting a blog, but when it comes to the momosphere, it does seem to almost always boil down to three basic reasons: they want to keep a record of their children's lives (virtual scrapbooking of a sort); they want to connect with other people for advice, support and mental stimulation; or they are working through issues of their own, and need the blog as a creative outlet. Sometimes all those reasons, and more, are present. But when they stop blogging, those reasons are all still there, but perhaps their private space has been violated, or they find that the virtual world takes too much time away from the real world.

It's sort of like watching a particularly painful divorce proceeding, where you know that the parties involved still love each other, but outside circumstances are forcing them to go ahead with the divorce anyway. And the readers are the children watching it happen, knowing that the place they went to for support, love, laughs will no longer be there. I've never been a proponent of the idea that parents should stay together "for the kids' sake", when they are miserable with each other. But it makes me sad all the same. For no reason other than that I will miss their voice.

I think that maybe - and maybe I'm being naive here, so bear with me - that we're all just suffering from the Snowball Effect. You start off blogging because you have something to say. It's fun, it's easy, it's accessible. It's an outlet. Then you start getting some comments, and you realize that people want to hear what you have to say. You write more often. And, of course, you have to visit the people who commented on your blog. And because everyone I've met so far is so interesting / witty / insightful / funny / down-to-earth / real that you have to read more, and write more. And you want to write more, and better yourself. And because this is such a wonderful caring community, there's all these amazing extras, outlets and outreaches like the Just Posts, raising money for good causes, awards. You become inextricably enmeshed. Who wouldn't want to be a part of such a community? You'd have to be crazy not to want to. But it can get to be too much sometimes, can't it? Like you're living more of your life online than in the flesh? This may not be everyone's experience, but I bet I'm not too far off target here. I'm a Type A personality myself, and I know firsthand how easy it is to get caught up in the need to do more, better.

So here's what I'm thinking - maybe we should just take the pressure off and realize that this blogging thing doesn't have to be so much of a ... big deal. I mean, does it? You don't have to post every day to make me want to read your blog. Each post doesn't have to better than the last. If I read your blog, it's because I've found in you a kindred spirit, not because I like an individual post. You don't need to get an award for me to think you're a good writer - frankly, I wouldn't be reading if I didn't already think you were. And I won't stop reading if you never comment on my blog either (eventhough I am a comment-whore). Just do what you do, and know that we'll be back because we like you. Just the way you are.

FitPreggo Friday

Pregnancy Weight Gained 8lbs, Alcohol Units 0 (sigh), Cigarettes 0 (yuck), Timbits 3 (but were bought for office mates so don't count), Skittles Too many to track, Chocolate Chips Several large handfuls, Fries Yes (but as are potatoes, counting them as vegetables), Other Forbidden Substances Tim Hortons French Vanilla Coffee, Total Calories Scared to hazard a guess.

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Am most upset because bravely worked out last night to Billy Blanks Ultimate Boot Camp video. Not feeling any fitter, but now have headache from tensing up while using resistance bands. Also noticed while doing girl push-ups that burgeoning stomach takes on a most distressingly Sigourney Weaver-esque Alien aspect. Not good if wanting to portray a chic mother-to-be. Colleague at work remarked that stomach did not look pregnant, but rather like it had recently given birth and was still sporting an afterbirth pooch. (Mental note: ply colleague with fattening foods so she gains a pooch too.)

Have been attempting to keep up with running schedule, but am finding it difficult between stomach viruses and Mr Earth's busy schedule. Run times distressingly low, and usually end up at Timothy's for a chai tea and chocolate chip muffin. Not sure if able to count runs followed by large chocolatey baked goods. Must remember that while eating for two, one of said two people is only 5 inches and probably doesn't need to eat a whole muffin alone.

Am seriously considering going on cross-country tour to promote idea of recognizing Toddler Lifting and Carrying as new official sport of Olympics. Am sure to win gold medal and gain international fame.

In the past, have been compared most flatteringly to Buffy star Alyson Hannigan. Or, as gents in bars point out "that Band Camp girl". Have been centre of amused attention at parties after perfecting Band Camp impression:



Am concerned that with second pregnancy, am on my way to a less delectable star comparison:

Graduated

Picked up my diploma at lunch today. Sort of anticlimactic after all the work I've done. Just went to a desk, paid my fifteen dollars and they handed me the document. All said and done, though, a lot easier than going through the whole graduation ceremony. I couldn't have made it anyways - I had a Big Meeting, the Boy was sick, and we had to go see the otolaryngologist for a followup to his surgery. It was a big day for me as well, just not ceremonial kind.

You know what? They didn't even ask me for ID. Anyone could have picked it up, and gone on to pretend they're me. (Although, really, who would do this? It's not like it's a medical degree, just a Bachelor of Fine Arts.) Looking at the diploma, though, it is kind of like I'm pretending. It's made out in my maiden name, and I'm not really that person anymore. I mean, she is still very much a part of who I am, it's just that I'm so different now. And yet, I'm still completely her.

Does anyone else have this identity crisis, or is it just me? I decided to take Mr Earth's last name because I knew we would have children, and I didn't want to have a different last name than my kids. It's just so labour-intensive, and I'm not into explaining myself all the time. Personally, it's also a thing I have about unity. We all play for the same hockey team here, we should be wearing the same jersey. After all, if we had different names - how would the fans know who to cheer for? I know that there are manymanymanymany reasons for keeping your name when you get married, and I strongly support them all, but at heart I'm a traditional girl.

The one compromise I did make, though, in favour of feminism, is that I use my maiden name when I act. And apparently, also when I apply for graduation. I did have the choice, you know. I could have used my married name on the degree. I decided to keep this little piece just for me. Acting is the same. Strange to say that though, because graduating is something I could not have done without Mr Earth, period. I actually can't do shows anymore either, without Mr Earth to watch the Boy. So it's intricately woven, and yet I keep it separate. Funny, huh? I like to make things complicated. But I'd be interested to know whether you all kept your name, hyphenated-it, changed it when you got married. Or didn't. This doesn't only apply to married people, if you're living together and don't want to be married, I'd love to know why too. Man, I'm nosy.

But back to my original point: I graduated! [insert fanfare here] As to what I'm going to do with this piece of paper, who knows? The only place to go is up, though.

Of Harry Potters and Puff Mommys..

I was talking with a colleague of mine at work about Harry Potter, and she said that she wasn't interested in reading it because she thinks that magic is silly. I was floored. I had to bite my tongue to keep in the million things that I wanted to say in response to this flabbergasting revelation. What do you have against magic? Did you have a bad experience as a child? Magic is supposed to be a bit silly, that's kind of part and parcel with the fantastic. In the end, I told her that she should just try reading the books because they are really quite good, and that although magic obviously plays a big part, that's not really what they are all about.

Since then I've mulled this over in my head, trying to figure out what I could have said differently to convince her to give the books a try...

Read more from Mama Drama at MBT


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Okay, so I'm just over 16 weeks pregnant and all my pants still fit but my shirts don't. I'm busting at the seams here, folks. I had to cross my arms at my meeting this morning, because I was afraid that a button would pop off my blouse and hit a colleague in the eye. It's embarrassing. Should I be at all concerned that I'm only gaining weight on the top half of my body?? I seem to remember last time that I was putting elastic bands in my waistbands of my pants to relax the fit, but that shirts were no problem. Am I a freak, or what? Ack.

Let's talk about sex, baby.

Other than pressing me for names, the number one thing that people have asked me about since learning I am pregnant is whether or not I am going to find out the sex of the baby. And going on to offer me opinions on which sex baby they would prefer that I have. (I'm not entirely sure, but I don't think that their preference will do anything to persuade the Powers That Be..could be wrong, though).

With my anatomical ultrasound coming up on July 3rd, I have to say that I am torn. Right down the middle. With leanage to one side. Clear as mud? I thought so. We very specifically did not find out the sex of The Boy before he was born. With three (!) sets of grandparents eager to buy us Baby Stuff, we didn't want them going overboard on pink frilly dresses or blue sports-themed paraphernalia. I am very much against pre-emptive gender-typing. I figure that they will get enough of that crap growing up and they don't need us to enforce while they're still babes in arms. But - more importantly - we didn't want to ruin The Moment. I don't think that there are many moments more dramatic in an ordinary person's life than the moment when, sweaty and exhausted from labour, someone announces triumphantly "It's a boy!" or "It's a girl!". That's drama, baby, and I am all about the drama. People have told me that it's just as dramatic to find out on the day of the ultrasound, but I remain unconvinced. Moments, to me, are about setting the stage, and waiting for the precise second when your words or actions will have the most impact. It's about keeping yourself and your audience in the most excitingly tense state of suspense possible.

BUT - now we have the Boy. He can barely understand the concept of "brother" or "sister", and it just makes it more confusing to tell him that he may have one or the other, but we're not sure which. Also, if Baby Earth turns out to be a boy, well, we're all set for clothes and toys. If Baby Earth is a girl, I'm sure I will find something girlie to buy. I'm totally jealous of the cute girlie clothes out there. Plus, I kind of want to know. You know? This is it for the family and I want to know how it's all going to turn out. I'm impatient. Plus, eventhough we didn't find out the sex of the Boy, we knew - without a shadow of a doubt - that he was going to be a boy. Finding out would only confirm what we already knew to be true. This time, I'm not so sure. Well, I still think it will be a boy, but that's mainly because I don't know what it's like to have a baby who isn't a boy. What on earth would I do with a baby girl?? That may sound odd, seeing as I am, myself, a girl. But then, I wasn't looking after myself as a baby, now was I?

Since all that really matters to us is that we have a healthy babe, it shouldn't really matter to us what sex the baby turns out to be. And it doesn't. I also have a hard time passing up a truly dramatic moment, just because I'm impatient. I'm going to have to mull this over something fierce before my next ultrasound. It would help if you told me whether or not you found out. If you did, what made you decide to find out? Was it still a Big Moment?? Oh, and go over to the sidebar and vote on what sex you think it will be, will you? Look at me creating a poll - I'm a techno-wiz! (Mr Earth wanted me to create a gambling pool where people would send us money, but I vetoed that. Although, if you want to send us money, feel free..)

June is Bustin' Out All Over

I've had this little post burning a hole in my pocket for several months, but now that I'm finally ready to write about it, I'm feeling kind of shy all of sudden. Sort of like that first dinner at my parents' house after my honeymoon. They were both extrememly happy and welcomed Mr Earth into the family whole-heartedly, but you couldn't deny the subtle undercurrent of awkwardness. My father could no longer pretend to himself that his only daughter had never had sex. No denial would save face, no "oh but daddy, we just hold hands and pray all night" would cut it this time. It was patently obvious. And my father didn't quite know what to do with the knowledge. As is my usual style, I just ignored the awkwardness and hoped it would go away.

That won't cut it this time. This is something you can't ignore. It's simply too big. But since I can't bring myself to say it outright, let me beat around the bush for a bit. Can you guess where I'm going with this:

I cried when Jaslene was made America's Next Top Model. (underdogs get to me every time)

I rage over the least little thing. (poor Mr Earth)

I have a newfound love of spicy foods. (chilies - your time is nigh)

My drink of choice these days is a Shirley Temple. (shut up, they're good...!)

I fall asleep about 9:30pm. (wild girl)

I can't do an hour-long run without hitting the bushes. (so classy)

I'm scared and happy at the same time. I'm happy to be scared and scared to be happy. (in short, I'm a mess).

Still no clue? Take a look at this amazing photo:

Yup, it's true. Come American Thanksgiving, the Earth trio turns quartet. So, I'm going to retire the ole diet for awhile and just let it all hang out. Hopefully, not TOO far. Good times.