The Silence of the Babes

So I'm sitting in Starbucks this morning (where else?), with two kids. The morning has not gone so well.

The Little Guy woke up at 5am and would not go back to sleep. The Boy got up at 6am and would not go back to sleep. How on earth did I manage to pop two early risers out of my lady parts? It makes no sense. I hate mornings. I am most decidedly NOT a morning person. I may get up early of necessity, but I am not happy about it.

The Boy's 9;30am soccer class was off/on/off/on due to rain, necessitating FOUR calls from the coach, right during the Little Guy's much-needed albeit truncated morning nap. We were late to the class because I kept assuming it was off, and I forgot a burp cloth. The Little Guy spits up a lot. Not that it's possible to feed him in public, of course, because EVERYTHING is more interesting than eating eventhough he will be a total bear if he doesn't.

After much convincing that seventeen thousand "water breaks" were not necessary to playing soccer (we LOVE our water at Casa Earth), the Boy kicked the ball around, changed into his "after soccer" clothes and we were off for coffee. Finally.

Inside Starbucks, we quickly got our coffee and juice. Snacks, I brought with me. The Boy sat down with his apple juice and his cup full of raisins. He wasn't particularly happy - he seemed tired - but he was sitting and eating quite nicely. Not even his usual loud and boisterously happy self.

The Little Guy was another story. He was a bit tired, and just wanted to suck on his soother. Unfortunately, at just shy of seven months, he still has trouble keeping it in his mouth. I just bought some new MAM soothers online, because his is outgrowing his NUK Starlight ones, and I can't find the next size up anywhere. The were recommended quite highly, but I didn't realize that they don't come with a little pull handle. That's how I attach the Bink Link to the soother so that it doesn't get lost. Anyways, I was trying to find a way to attach the Bink Link to the new soother, and gave him an extra soother to suck on while I tried to figure it out. Of course, the spare kept falling out of his mouth. Everytime it fell, he screamed like a banshee. Everytime I popped it back in, he was a quiet, happy camper. And then it fell out again. And then I heard it.

"SSSSHHHHH!"

The lady in the table shushed him. I didn't look up. I was trying to work out a solution to the Bink Link problem. I assumed she was trying to help by calming him down. I popped the soother back in. A couple seconds later, it fell out again and he screamed. And I heard it again.

"SSSSHHHHHHH!"

I thought that I was lucky to have someone trying to help me out when I'm not having the best of days. The soother fell out again and he screamed.

"SSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH!"

And then she got up and moved tables.. It wasn't until then that I realized that she was not trying to help at all, she was just trying to get him to shut up. And then I got pissed off. Not only is that NOT at all helpful, it's just not nice.

Now, we hadn't been there long, and with two kids in tow, we certainly weren't going to stay long. Especially as both of them were about an hour away from nap time. The Little Guy would have been happy if he had been able to keep the soother in his mouth. He was only screaming because it kept falling out. And he has a sizable pair of lungs. But he's a baby, and he's learning. But I promised the Boy a treat in Starbucks, so there we were for at least a few minutes.

You know, I'm just doing the best I can to get through the day, and to keep everybody I'm responsible for relatively happy. I'm not one of those parents that let their kids run roughshod all over public places. I do believe, though, that as a parent I have a place in the public arena. I don't have to hide away at home, or stay in parks, or move out to suburbia. I firmly believe that the only way to teach children good behaviour in public places is to take them out to public places. We don't stay long. We leave if things get out of hand. We allow noise as long as it is happy noise and is not ridiculously loud.

But I do have a place in public. And I won't let anyone take that away from me because it's a little inconvenient or somewhat noisy at times. If we want our children to be respectful of the public, we must extend that respect - along with some lenience - to them.

Amateur, but not Amateur-ish

I've been acting for twenty years now. (Twenty. Gah! It galls me to admit that. I feel ancient.) Whenever someone asks me what I've done, though, I get all shy-like. You see, about 95% of my acting experience has been in community theatre. Local theatre. Amateur theatre. Non-professional theatre. Call it what you will, people tend to back off like you've dropped a stinkbomb in their lap.

Community theatre used to be about a bunch of local yokels getting together and putting on a play. They may or may not have had any theatrical experience. They may have had a lot of heart, but very little skill, and almost no production values. Well, times have changed, my friends. Sure there are clunkers out there, I readily admit that. I've seen some really bad shows. I may have even been in one or two of them. There's a whole other side to community theatre, though, of which many people are not aware.

Continue reading at Playdate and see rare photo of Mr Earth in flagrante...

The Petite Truth

Thanks to some connections, I am lucky enough to have just finished reading an advance copy of Petite Anglaise by Catherine Sanderson. Have you read her blog? I actually haven't, and it was a curious thing to read a book about a blogger's life without actually having ever read the blog itself. When I first started reading it, I wasn't at all convinced that I was going to like it. Frankly, the style seemed a bit magazine-like or Harlequin-romance-ish. Neither of which is bad at all, but it's just not my thing. Then I got caught up in the story. Wow, it was fascinating! Kind of like watching an imminent train wreck - you just can't seem to tear your eyes away. I read it faster than any book I have read in a long time. It also raised some questions for me, as a blogger, that I haven't stopped thinking about yet.

You'll forgive my memory, I hope, and my complete unwillingness to look up actual quotes (the baby is napping and time is precious), but Catherine said two statements to me that seemed somewhat contradictory. One being that her initial calling card when she started her blog was that of unflinching honesty. A little bit later, she said something along the lines of the fact that you can't depend on the full honesty of any blog. (If anyone else is reading this and knows the quote of which I speak, please let me know - it's driving me nuts and I don't want to have to read the whole book over again...although I would..)

Anyways, I was sort of taken aback by that comment. I understand that there are some blogs out there that have more of a storytelling bent than others, but for the most part, I accept what people put out there as "the truth". Or, at least, the truth as they see it. That IS the truth, as far as I'm concerned, because blogs are generally first person accounts, and we know that we are seeing the story through the authors eyes.

Catherine described her blog persona as much more upbeat than she actually is in real life. I found this really interesting, because it is so very different from my experience with blogging. For my part, I write what I'm thinking or feeling. If what I've written have seemed morose or negative, it's because that is how I'm seeing the world at that moment. If it seems happy, it's because I am. If it's boring, well, a sometimes my life can be boring and monotonous. I find it incredibly difficult to write something that is not in the moment. It can be done, of course, but I find it takes a lot longer to write, and I usually end up scrapping the post altogether because it sounds fake and stilted.

However, perhaps her ability to create a different online persona is the reason that she has thousands of readers? It's also probably the reason that she is a writer, and I'm just a person who writes. But I like the fact that on my blog, I can be exactly who I am. I don't have to be a mom, wife, or actor. I don't have to be any sort of 'character' at all. I can just kick off my shoes, loosen my pants and relax. The truth ain't always real pretty, but it's always pretty real.

Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.

T 'n A...rockin' the house since 2002

CIO Y/N?

The sleeping situation at night - or rather, the NOT sleeping situation at night - is getting a little ridiculous in our house. We have gone from a baby some impressively long stretches, to one who can barely make it four hours.

I'm practically positive that he is not waking up to eat. The Little Guy is not so little. He could live for weeks in the wild off the fat on his thigh (hmm, must get that from me..). Not only that, but I can usually soothe him back to sleep in about 10 minutes or so. But then, of course, I'M up. And it takes far longer than 10 minutes for ME to get back to sleep.

I generally feed him cereal around 6pm or so, and then breastfeed somewhere between 7:30 and 8pm, after I've finally convinced the Boy to stay in his bed. The Little Guy is waking up at around 11:30pm. I don't think that he's all that hungry, but since I'm often awake, I will feed him in the hopes that he will sleep "through the night". Ha.

On a "good" night, he then won't wake up until about 4:30am. I get up and soothe him back to sleep. I fall asleep shortly after 5am, and then he wakes up at about 5:30am. I take him into bed with us, eventhough I'd prefer not to because it means that I can't sleep. He might then not wake up till 6 or 6:30am. I finally get up to feed him, although frankly, he doesn't seem all that hungry. He eats, of course. He would eat each time he awoke, if I let him. My getting up at 6am usually wakes up the Boy, and then we are all awake. Fun. Have I mentioned that I'm not a morning person?

On a "bad" night, he wakes up at 2:30am, 4:30am, 5:30am and 6:30am. Sometimes I almost wish that he would wake up at 2:30am, because occasionally he will sleep until 5:30am and I have a chance to get back to sleep after getting up with him. If he goes through until 4:30am, then I'm awake for the day from that point on.

I'm afraid to go to sleep too early because it really messes with your sleep patterns to go to sleep for the night, only to wake up an hour later. I also treasure the child-free time at night. I look forward to it all day. It's also really stressful to live your life on tenterhooks, waiting for him to wake up. I could better deal with his erratic nap patterns in the day if I knew that he would at least sleep at night. So to recap, the general pattern is to get to bed somewhere around 12:30am, and up for the day around 4:30am.

It's getting to the point where I'm willing to try just about anything, even the dreaded "cry it out". I have mixed feelings about it. The Boy was a great sleeper. He went through his wakeful periods of course, but we did a miniature version of the cry-it-out with him and it worked. We only did this because we noticed that any time we tried to pick him up, it only made him cry worse than before. So instead, we let him cry and after about ten minutes, he stopped on his own. If he ever cried more than 10 minutes, we would go in and get him.

The Little Guy, though, gets himself worked up to a frenzy. He rarely falls asleep in the stroller or carseat. I've spent many an hour long car ride in the past few weeks listening to him scream louder and longer until I thought he might choke. Somehow, I don't think this bodes well for the cry-it-out approach. I'm at my wit's end, though. Anyone had any luck with it? Anybody really against it? I've overheard women swear up and down that it's the only thing that worked, but maybe their baby's temperament is just fundamentally different than the Little Guy's.

I just know I need to sleep. I don't like myself very much when I'm tired and cranky. I'm not pleasant to be around. And I can't get away from myself. Every time I turn around, there I am.

The Hardest Post I've Ever Had to Write...

Ohhh, I watch WAY too much of The Bachelor. I feel like I'm doing a rose ceremony: "The is the hardest decision I've ever made..."

I've been tagged with a meme. Normally, I love getting tagged for memes (I do! It makes me feel popular! Love me!! Please?). HOWEVER. This meme is different. It seems that the lovely Mothergoosemouse was included on a List. A list of the Top 5 Most Bangable Blog Babes for the month of May. I am simultaneously relieved and offended that I am not on any of his monthly lists. (Not one month. I looked through them all...I kid. Sort of.) She decided to create a meme about it, and challenged the rockin' hawt Motherbumper to share with us the time whe she felt she was at her most bangable. Bonus points for photos. And then she tagged me.

Here's the problem: I don't think you could choose an adjective which describes me less than "bangable". Okay? Most definitely. Pretty? Sometimes. Beautiful? Once in a blue moon, maybe, if the stars align just so, and I have a team of stylists at the ready. A more accurate description of me would be "Two-Face". Do you remember that Seinfeld episode where everyone thought that he was dating two different girls because sometimes she looked really nice and sometimes she looked frightening? Two-face. That's me. It's also why I almost never allow myself to be photographed because just when I think I'm having a good-looking day, someone snaps a photo and BAM! I'm Spike Lee's cousin (Ug Lee). I prefer to think of myself as one of those elusive beauties. You might think I'm quite pretty if you look at me out of the corner of your eye. Just don't look at me too closely or you shall be turned to stone. Sort of like this:

I worked hard to perfect this look. I call it Medusa Chic.

It's been a bit tough in the acting department. When you're young, everyone expects you to be the pretty little ingenue. I'm not hideous, but there's always someone prettier. I'm Skipper in a world full of Barbies. It used to bother me, but not so much anymore. Being the empty-headed love interest was never my thang anyways. I much prefer the character roles. And I think - hope! - that now that I'm maturing (ahem), I'm going to come into my own soon. Take that Barbies!

So anyways, this is a roundabout way to say that I had to consult the experts (i.e. Mr Earth) as to when I was at my most "bangable". He readily answered that it was around the time that we got married. I don't know if I should be offended that he doesn't think I'm bangable now. (What you don't like a haggard mom with bags under her eyes, smells of milk puke, wears elastic-waisted pants, and who regularly forgets to brush her teeth until about 3pm when she suddenly says "oh crap, why is my mouth so fuzzy??" What's with that Mr Earth??). But he's probably right.

May 2002. I was fit, pretty much at my ideal weight. I regularly got a good night's sleep. I had money to burn, and usually spent it buying clothes that the affianced would find sexy. I used to buy negligées even! I was running and doing shows, and with the soon-to-be Mr Earth by my side I knew that I had won the Life Lottery. He's a good guy. The best. If you're going to pick a time when I was at my most attractive so far, that's probably it:

Photo credit to Laura Bombier.

If it was up to me, I probably would have picked last March, when I got my new headshots done. I had lost almost all of the baby-weight from the Boy, and was feeling pretty good about that. I felt I had gone through all the rigours of the first-time mom thing, and instead of killing me, it made me stronger. I was really worried that the photos would turn out horribly, because I'm just not all that photogenic, but I had some really nice ones to choose from. Unbeknownst to me, I was also 3 days pregnant with the Little Guy, which makes this photo all the more special to me. It's also the ONLY preggo photo of me that I actually like to look at:

Photo credit to David Leyes.

Please note that neither of these photographs are what I actually look like in REAL LIFE. These photos represent what my idyllic life would be like IF I had a retenue of professionals including a hairdresser, a make-up artist and a photographer. If you want to see what I look like in REAL LIFE, please see the Medusa photo above. I reiterate, I rarely let someone take my picture. It's unfortunate that my kids will think that I abandoned them in their youth, but oh well. They can hug my headshot!

But who shall I tag with this meme???? Hmmmm. How's about the smokin' Kgirl and the divine Blithe Babbler? Are you chickies up for the challenge, or are you going to chicken out like I did???

What's a Playdate without some Kicking and Screaming?

Do you have a gifted child? Do you think s/he is going to be the next Bill Gates or David Beckham?? Do you think that the only way for your child to realize his potential is to put his nose to the grindstone and work, work, work??? Don't fret! I have the Magic Solution for you.

OK, I don't. But I AM discussing an interesting book about the pressure some parents put on their kids to be the Next Great Whatever over at Playdate. Drop by and add your two cents about alarming trend of hot-housing children. Come on over, you know you wanna...

And because I can't resist, some wise words from the Great Debbie Allen:

Two Timing

A few lovely bloggers are about to have an addition to their families: their second child.

(Cue OMINOUS MUSIC)



Nah, it's not that bad - really!

(Cue MERCURIAL MUSIC)

Ah, that's much better. You see, I'm right in it. We had our second baby six months ago on this very date. We are right in it. (My favourite acting teacher would use the expression "in the shit", but contrary to what you might believe, being "in the shit" is a good thing.) I think that when people give first time moms advice, they tend to gloss over all the really crappy stuff because they don't want to scare them. You, my fine friends, have been there. You know that some of the stuff that goes along with being the mom of a newborn is pretty sucky. Personally, I would have preferred the truthy truth the first time around - I would have felt better prepared. However, it's nice to keep the veil of innocence going for as long as you can, too.

As to the question posed - Is the second child easier? - the answer is...drumroll please....

YES!

Absolutely. In an oh-my-sweet-lord-why-on-earth-did-I-think-this-was-so-hard-the-first-time and-what-the-hell-did-I-do-with-all-my-time-and-why-could-I-never-seem-to-get-anything-done kind of way. It really gives you perspective. I will admit that I was kind of dreading doing the whole baby thing over again because we had such a hard time the first time around. Every single thing was a struggle. Nothing came naturally. I enjoyed him so much more when he got older, and I thought why would I want to go back to square one again? Except that we knew that, down the line, we wanted to have children. Plural. Not singular.

The thing with the second one is, you've paid your dues. The learning curve is not nearly as difficult. Yes, chances are the second child will be completely different than the first, but you can still extrapolate all the information you gleaned from the first. And you know that not everything is a crisis. You won't Ruin Their Life if you make one bad decision. It sounds callous to say that you don't care as much, but it's a GOOD thing. You don't micro-manage every single minute. And everyone - baby included - can breathe a sigh of relief.

BUT.

You knew there'd be a "but" right?

The second baby IS easier, but managing the second baby AND the firstborn is somewhat tougher than I thought it would be. It's a real juggling act to handle two completely different schedules, and there's not a heck of a lot of downtime. It's tiring. So here's what I would suggest, at least for the first few months:

GET HELP.

We kept the Boy in daycare full time in the beginning, and though I felt guilty at the time, it was one of the best decisions we made. It keeps his routine somewhat close to normal, gave him social interaction that he wouldn't get at home, and gave me some time to focus on the baby.

GET HELP.

My husband comes home from work early whenever possible. My mom comes for regular visits, and will even take the Boy for the weekend. In the early days, playdates sounded like a lot of effort, but are much more relaxing because you have an extra set of eyes (and friends to talk to!). Minimize the time you're alone with two children at first, because it can be overwhelming to be outnumbered when you're so tired.

GET HELP. (Did I mention that already? I can't remember.)

Now that we've dropped some days at daycare, we're looking into getting a housecleaner once a month or so. I'm hoping this person might even be willing to do some laundry too (a girl can dream, right?). Both of these can become out of control rather quickly, and the last thing I want to do with a spare minute is clean or fold laundry.

At the end of the day, though, what makes it all worthwhile is the look of adoration in the Little Guy's eyes as he watches his big brother. It's heart-burstingly wonderful. I could throw out all the toys because he could occupy himself quite well doing nothing but ogling his hero. And to hear the Boy announce, every chance he gets, to all his friends and strangers too, "That's my baby brudder!" Well, it's music to my ears. And there is no sweeter sound.

All my best wishes, love and support to three soon-to-be moms of two: Her Bad Mother, Mrs. Chicky, and Mrs. Chicken.

Are you a Chicken or a Pig?

Has anyone ever called you a pig, and you couldn't think of a really good rebuttal? Come on over to Playdate, where I'm talking about an interesting new theory that I heard on Grey's Anatomy.

And while we're on the subject - are we on this subject? - what's your vote:

McDreamy OR McSteamy ???

So come on over to Better Than a Playdate and read, discuss, comment. Just say hi. I'm feeling lonely and could use some positive reinforcement.

A Fine Balance

I've come to discover that being a mom is all about the timing.

My day is an intricately choreagraphed dance, a delicate pas-de-deux (or rather, pas-de-trois, I should say). Extend the leg here. Flick the hand there. Don't forget to spot when you turn, or you'll get dizzy. Each step must be completed in sequence and on time or it all falls apart. Or I fall apart. Nowhere is this more apparent than on the nights that Mr Earth is not home. He is in rehearsal for a play which takes him out of the house at bedtime at least three nights per week, more when the show goes up.

The Boy and I had comfortable partnership going. A routine. Everything happened like clockwork. There were good nights and bad nights, but the difference between the two was the gentle ripple of hair in a stray breeze. Nothing that couldn't be righted easily. And if Mr Earth or I couldn't be home at bedtime, while it was unfortunate, it was no problem.

And then the Little Guy joined the dance. After stumbling around for a bit, we found our rhythm again. It's different, more complex, but finally manageable. Instead of a couple, we now have a quartet. While it may have all the grace of a do-si-do hoedown, it still works. Except for on nights when one of us isn't home. One child is left partnerless, and one parent left to take up the slack. Since I am still breastfeeding, that task usually falls to me.

The evening program starts at 6:45pm and usually lasts until about 8:45pm. It can be a very long two hours involving much crying, whining and general unpleasantness. Not all of this behaviour is due to the children. Bathe the Boy, diaper, pyjamas, story, milk, unwind with one (not-short-enough) tv program, brush teeth, pink eye medication, wash hands, all the while juggling the entertainment of an increasingly tired Little Guy. Then upstairs to bed, dump the baby in the crib, take the Boy to the potty, tuck the Boy in with songs and funny voices. Then pick up the baby, downstairs for special excema bath, apply creams, feed. Hear door open on the monitor. Stop the baby mid-feed and take him upstairs to see what's going on. Change the Boy's poopy bum. Go back downstairs and finish the feed, put pyjamas on and swaddle. Turn lights down low, let baby suck on finger while jiggling him to sleep and hope he doesn't scream too much. If he does, listen to Boy shout "I can't sleep (Little Guy)!" over the monitor. When assured that the baby is finally asleep, take him upstairs turn on the sound machine and put him down. Breathe a sigh of relief, and relax. And wait for him to wake up again.

I could compress this routine somewhat. I could bathe, cream, feed and swaddle the Little Guy while the Boy drinks his milk and goes to bed alone. That's what my mom would suggest. But it also leaves the Boy to essentially put himself to bed, and we lose that time to connect. And, he's three. I don't think he should be able to put himself to bed yet, even if he would do it. Not to mention that the Little Guy needs, nay demands, and absolute quiet and distraction-free zone when being put down for the night. So, I continue the fancy footwork, and hope that in time, it will again become like clockwork.

And tomorrow night, I go out for dinner with friends, and Mr Earth does the bedtime dance. And has to do bottle-feeding on top of it all. Wish him luck.

The Drawer Boy

On Friday, when we were stuck inside the house for the majority of the day, the Boy and I spent the some time doing our favourite thing - drawing. Here are the results...

Title: FUNNY PEOPLE
Artist: The Boy
Description: A card that he made for his mother first thing in the morning while she was feeding the Little Guy. Note the use of colour - indicating a strong affinity for inclusion and multiculturalism, despite the rather un-PC title (the artist is still too young to understand the sometimes unsavoury connotations of the word "funny"). People of all colours are most welcome in the artist's world. Especially the blue ones. Not that blue people are any better than anyone else...

Title: SUPERMAN 1
Artist: The Boy
Description: While critics have compared it to his earlier work "Lady Walking in a Windstorm", this is indeed the first in a series of Superman drawings. The triangular composition is impressive in such a young artist, and his use of movement and line show promise.

Title: SUPERMAN 2
Artist: The Boy
Description: A continuation of his much-famed Superman series, it is in this second work that we see the growth of the artist. The features are more proportional, and show much less fear than his earlier attempts. This Superman is in charge of the situation. The cape has moved from the head to the back and has been extended to indicate strength of purpose. Superman still has an air of hesitancy, which is explored further in later works.




Title: DOG
Artist: The Boy
Description: Titled simply "Dog", the artist has gone back to the basics, showing the natural world at its finest. This quirky little chap bears a striking resemblance to Milou, Tintin's dog. This is particularly ironic, as the artist's mother is often remarking that her son is a dead ringer for Tintin - especially after a haircut. In reality, the artist was probably inspired by his next door neighbour's dog, Seamus.




Title: MUMMY & DADDY
Artist: The Boy
Description: Possibly one of the Boy's greatest works to date. The proportions and compostion are nothing short of fantastic. However, what is truly unique about this work is the story behind it. Mummy is the figure on the LEFT, and Daddy is the figure on the RIGHT, and not the other way around as was first assumed. Daddy, it is told, wears a dress to work.

*All works included this showing are property of the artist, The Boy. Use of these images without express permission of the artist is strictly forbidden. Should anyone wish to obtain rights to an image, please contact his extremely proud mother.

Leader of the Plaque

Two doctors in two days - who woulda thunk life could get so good.

I got the call from the daycare yesterday as I was putting the Little Guy down for a nap at 12pm. I ignore the phone at nap times, preferring sleeping children over contact with the outside world. But when my cell goes off right after the phone stops ringing, I start to panic. I raced to the phone and thought I called my voicemail, but instead hit the recall button. The daycare answered and asked would I come get the Boy? It's not a medical emergency, but his eye looks pretty pink, and they're not medical doctors or anything but it's probably pink eye. Crap. Uh, I mean sugar. I thought the Boy's eye looked a slightly pinkish that morning. (And before you all think I'm that mother who sends her kid to daycare with pink eye, I'm not. Well, I guess I am, technically, but I didn't know it was pink eye! The kid gets up at some gods-unholy hour, often because he's been awakened by the loud creak of someone trying to creep past his door unheard with a baby who gets up even earlier than he does, and his eyes are often reddish-tinged from lack of sleep. I didn't know! I don't know how I missed it. I suck.)

So we spent the afternoon schlepping to the doctor's office. Conjuctivitis. Drops for the eyes and no daycare tomorrow. I also used the opportunity to get myself and the baby looked at. I have a sinus infection! The Little Guy has a bad cold! If Mr Earth wasn't out of town, we could have confirmed that he has a cold too. Yes, in fact, we do have the plague. The instructions for the eye drops suggest putting them in while the child is sleeping. Yeeaahhh...like THAT'S a good idea.

We spent today indoors laying low. We made a quick trip to the store to get diapers, but other than that we did a whole lot of nothing. I had five blissful minutes when both boys were asleep at the same time. Then the Little Guy woke up. Late in the afternoon, we had to go down to the Village for the Boy's first dentist appointment. I didn't cancel, cause he'd been on the eye medication for 24 hrs, and the dentist would be wearing gloves anyways.

Of course, the ONE TIME today that we actually had somewhere to go and something to do, the Little Guy decides to nap. He hasn't slept past 1pm all week (and has been none too happy as a result CAUSE HE'S TIRED), and he goes down for a nap about an hour before I have to feed him and go. I even caught him waking up and putting himself back to sleep. Unaided. Finally, I had to go in and make some noise to get the party started.

Because we were on the late side, and the Boy tends to drag his feet when being made to walk anywhere, I made up some silly story that if we didn't hurry, the dragon at the dentist's office would come out and get us. Bad idea, Nomo. The Boy kept asking about "the dentist dragon". Where was it? What does it eat? The dentist was none too impressed when he brought it up in the chair. I think she thought I compared her a dragon. Oops!

The Boy was okay in the chair. Just a few whimpers of "Mummy", and a refusal to lie back. The dentist counted his teeth: 20. Good? Bad? I have no idea how many teeth you're supposed to have. She gave him a new Cars toothbrush and asked him to show her how he brushed his teeth. Eventually, I had to do it because he wouldn't. They were very impressed with my brushing technique. Thank you! I've had 35 years of practice. I've become quite adept. It was also the ONLY time the Boy has allowed me to brush his teeth without a fight. I think we'll go there to brush his teeth all the time.

Of course, I just had to take a picture of our first trip to the dentist, because they didn't think I was enough of a weirdo after the whole dentist dragon debacle:

Give me the toothbrush and back away, lady.

Recycle your tunes

I am old enough to remember the introduction of recycling bins. Shocking, I know! Generally, I don't like to admit that I'm that old, but for the sake of Earth Week, I felt compelled to dig a little deeper for material.

What I don't remember, however, is much of what they said at that school assembly. What can I say? I was young and self-centered (I'm only one of those two things now, can you guess which?), and what I heard was:

"Blah blah blah...RECYCLE...blah blah blah...BLUE PLASTIC BIN..."

Continue reading at Better Than a Playdate

Smilers Never Win

The Straight Poop

I didn't realize that when I signed up to be a parent that I would become quite so ..preoccupied.. with bowel movements.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, we are FINALLY starting to get somewhere in the potty training arena. I never thought that starting in September, when the Boy showed no signs of interest whatsoever, and just a couple months away from the birth of the Little Guy, was a very good time to start training. But it's what the daycare wanted (naturally). I shared my concerns and they wanted to go ahead and try anyways. Far be it from me to stop them. Who knows? It could have worked.

HOWEVER, I know the Boy, who is, not surprisingly, quite a lot like me. Apple? Meet tree. When the Boy wants to do something, he does it. And not one millisecond earlier. And if he don't wanna do it, it ain't gonna happen. Period.

Thought he was never going to get teeth? BAM. Four teeth right after his first birthday. Took less than a week, and no teething pain. Nice.

Thought he was never going to walk? BAM. At sixteen months, we left him with my parents for two hours while we went to see a movie, and he went from standing and holding onto furniture, to tottering around the cottage. Weirdo.

Now, I'm not saying that potty training is going quite that well, but it is certainly a far cry from the outright resistance we've had for the last six months. Our biggest issue is, well, poop.

The Boy has a particular habit of ..letting go.. during sleep. It's what wakes him up in the morning. It's what shortens nap time. And, more recently, it's what wakes him up about 15 minutes after he goes to bed. How do you train someone to poop in the toilet, when he only does it while asleep? Once - once! - he had a small poop in the potty and we had a frakin' party. It was raining gifts and praise. I wished I had a pinata. Wahoo!

Never again.

At first, I thought that he needed the relaxation of sleep to let go. Then, I thought that perhaps he needed the comfort of a diaper. We've tried asking him to wear a diaper right before bedtime so that he can poop, but he won't have it.

Tonight, not one minute after I tucked the yawning Boy in bed and closed the door, I heard this terrible panting coming from right behind the door. The Boy often plays in bed for a bit after we put him down, but this was definite panting right behind the door. It only took me a second to realize what was happening. I stood and waited till it stopped, and sure enough, the door opened up and the Boy came out:

"Mummy, I have a poo!"

Is he waiting to poo after bedtime because it buys a few more precious parental minutes? If so, what does that say about our parenting? Am I simply reading to much into this?? Help me, dear Internets! I welcome any and all advice.

It takes a Village Idiot to raise a child

It's completely untrue the new moms don't have time to read. It just takes them longer to actually finish a book because they keep getting interrupted...STOP SCREAMING, MUMMY'S TRYING TO TYPE!...And then they lose their place and have to read the same thing over again. And then they lose their place and have to read the same thing over again. Oh yeah..and the lack of sleep thing makes...it.....

hard........to ......

stay......................

awa...zzzzzzzzzz

Curious as to the book that kept me interested enough over the last five months (yes, it took me five, what's it to ya?), that I not only kept reading, but gave up precious nap time to do so? Click on over to Playdate to find out.

The No-Sleep Cry Solution

Do you think that when you have a second child, the universe gives you the baby you didn't have the first time around?

The Boy was a champion sleeper. He was too good of a sleeper, actually. He had jaundice, and our feeding issues meant that he didn't get enough milk to come out of it quickly or easily. We had to wake him up to eat on a schedule for months. He would have slept through the night from day one, but that wouldn't have been a good thing. BUT, on the plus side, the moment that he had gained enough weight that we could let him sleep as long as he wanted, he pretty much slept through the night from that point on. At four months. Similarly, at about five months, I decided that I didn't really want to hold him for naps anymore because he was getting so heavy, so I put him down in his crib one day, walked away, and he slept. By himself.

The Little Guy, as I've mentioned before, will only sleep at night if tightly swaddled. He wakes up at least once to eat, and once around 5am just to be awake. At 5am, I can get him back to sleep if I bring him into our bed. (Of course, I don't sleep anymore after that. Don't squish the baby! Don't smother the baby!!)

As for naps, he used to have sleep periodically throughout the day if you were willing to hold him the entire time. Have I mentioned that he is over 18 pounds? Now he has added the necessity for absolute silence. Have you ever tried for absolute silence with a 3-year old around? No?? Try it. The Boy has only two volume options: whisper or scream. And it's a stage whisper at that. Peppered by loud guffaws and chortles of delight. It's actually lovely to behold, but not so lovely when you're trying to get a baby to sleep.

It's all very well to cowtow to the Little Guy's wishes when it's just me and him, but as of May 1st, the Boy will only be attending daycare part time. Our weekends right now consist of phrases like:

"I can't right now, the Little Guy is sleeping."
"We can play when the Little Guy wakes up."
"You need to be a little quieter, Boy, just while the Little Guy is falling asleep."
"Sorry, Boy, not right now."

I feel terrible when I see his disappointment. I was hoping the sleep thing would resolve itself, but it hasn't. So, April is sleep-training month. So far, I have been able to get the Little Guy to sleep for about a half hour on his own. But he has to be lightly swaddled (I refuse to do the full swaddle - saving that for nighttime use only), soothered, and held down until he stops jerking long enough to fall asleep. It takes about a half hour of work to get him to sleep for half an hour. Every once in a while I will get a longer sleep out of him, and I feel like the heavens have opened up and rained sunshine down on my ever-lovin' head. It's going to be a looong month.

Mac and Cheese asked me, at a certain bloggy gathering Saturday night, when I had time to shower. My glib answer was "I don't." The truth is, I do shower thankyouverymuch, but usually only with the accompaniment of much crying, or not sleeping. I try to shower every other day now, because it's a lot of stress, and I believe sanity - not cleanliness - is next to godliness.

So if you see me coming, please please please put on a pot of coffee before you even say hello. And if it's Monday, Wednesday or Friday, I probably wouldn't stand too close.

Get Cool, Boy.

Have you all seen what's happening over at MBT these days? Well, first of all, it's no longer MBT. It's been re-jigged and renamed and we're now the new and improved Better Than a Playdate. Click on over and see our cool new digs. I'll be posting as Mama Drama every Thursday.



...hey....wait a minute! It is Thursday!! ''



Today I'm talking about the newest obsession in our household, Yo Gabba Gabba. Or, as the Boy insists it is called, Yo Gavva Gavva. Please don't try to call it anything else if you come over, as he gets quite upset. Anywho, it's just about the hottest kids show out there right now, so come over to Playdate and find out how you can stay coolly cool.

Don't Trouble Trouble

Do you ever hear somebody say something completely innocuous, and you just get this feeling in the pit of your stomach - good or bad - that it's going to come true? I do.

When it's a good thing, I call it the "Ring of Truth". It's happened to me a couple of times that stand out in my memory. In the last year of theatre school, my favourite guest teacher, Peter Hinton, handed out a pamphlet for his Restoration Theatre workshop in Abbotsford. It was seven weeks long, an their were limited spaces, but I said to my friend "I think I'm going to do this". And I knew I would. And I did. The other time, not-yet-Mr-Earth and I were at a friend's wedding, and he turned to me and said "I want that to be us up there.". We were only a year into our four year courtship, and he was drunk as a skunk (do skunks really get drunk?), but I said "I want that too." And I knew it would happen. And it did.

When it's a bad thing, I call it the "Audition Feeling". That's when you're allowed to get through your whole monologue or song, and they say "Thanks for coming out. We'll call you." And you know that you're never going to hear from them. And you don't. Let's not get into how many times I have had that particular feeling, as I don't want to get too depressed.

Now that the weather is getting better, and the Little Guy is getting older, we have decided to drop a couple of days from the Boy's daycare schedule. He'll still be going three days a week, but we'll save some money, and I'll get more of a chance to hang out with the Boy while my mat leave plays out. We have to keep him in part time so that we don't lose our spot entirely. It feels like a good decision. It feels right. I'm also a little scared that I won't be able to handle it gracefully, but whatever - suck it up Nomo.

This morning, when I dropped the Boy off at daycare, one of his teachers said "I'm really going to miss him when he's not here every day. He's doing so well." Nice enough, right? But the way that she said it sounded like we were leaving the daycare entirely. It scared me. It took a LONG time to get a daycare spot. Anyone who lives in our area of the city knows that they are next to impossible to find. And I can't afford to lose it. And I can't go back to work part time either. It's full time or nothing in my position.

Now, what felt like a good decision, may turn out to be the worst possible one if I can't get our spot back. I'm already stressed out that we have no solution for the Little Guy, as most openings around here start at 16-18 months, and I have to go back when the Little Guy is 12 months. He's not on any daycare list at all as I'm in denial, and it seems futile when there is just no spot to be had. Am I borrowing trouble??

I'm just going to close my eyes and hope that it all works out in the end. Mature, no?

Hungry Like the Wolf

Sketched quickly while waiting for Mr Earth to finish his shower so we could go do the grocery shopping. The Boy was drawing with markers, and asking me constantly what I was drawing. The Little Guy was being entertained with a steady stream of chew toys. Sophie, unfortunately, got caught in the the maws of death.