Proof that katie (motherbumper) is kickin' ass and takin' numbers

So, you know I'm an actor, but did you know I'm in a play next month?

Well, now you do. No excuses.

It's been a long time since I've done show. A long time. I'm not sure I even remember how to act. (Sidenote: Ha! I couldn't even spell act! I kept typing "ackt".) It's good timing actually. Now that I'm home with the kids all day, I need an excuse to get out and have some "me" time. I often go to rehearsal with graham cracker sludge sticking to my clothes somewhere but - hey - still ME time. Just a dirtier version of me. And not in a good way.

Anyways, if you're in the Toronto area, would you like to come out and see it? I hope it's going to be good. If not, there's a bar up the hill and you can leave at intermission and go get hammered. That's where I usually spend intermission anyways. (Don't tell the stage manager.)

Moving on.

The super-fantabulous and always-busy-but-still-has-time-to-help-a-friend-out katie (motherbumper) has created this awesome button to help promote the show. I love the company I'm working with, but it's run by volunteers who don't always have the time to publicize the show as much as I would like. If you're coming to see the show, or even if you're not, and even if you don't live anywhere near Toronto, you can help us promote the bejeezers out of the show by posting the button on your sidebar. Word of mouth can do wonders. Support the arts! (Or hey, just read my post railing about arts cuts over at Playdate. It's fun.)

Who knows? Maybe there'll be so much press about the show that I will become rich and famous, and I can stop indulging my growing need for very cheap and very ugly purses that can pass as diaper bags. Please! Mr Earth will thank you! He hates carrying around the "rocker bags". Just ask him.

<a href="http://eastsideplayers.ca/2008-2009-theatre-season/"><img src="http://i122.photobucket.com/albums/o274/mother_bumper/proof.png"></a>

I am a SHAM...uh, SAHM.

Boy, I just clicked on my Blogger Login Icon and it felt strange. Not strange-peculiar, but strange-unusual. It's been too long. The trouble is not that I've been at a loss for words. The trouble is that I've had a surplus of them. Whenever that happens, they tend to come out all a-jumble. Read on if you dare...

Early in December (the 3rd? who knows), I got a call at work from C, the woman who was watching Little G. He's fine, she said, don't worry. It's just that I've had a sort of family emergency and I need you to come pick up Little G asap. I did. Turns out that her dad went into the hospital with what he thought was bronchitis, but upon further investigation, he had terminal lung cancer. C called us later that night and told us that with caring for her father and watching her own two children, she didn't think that she could give Little G the care he needed and she was giving us her notice. She would watch him until our agreed upon break at Christmas, and that was it. I completely understood.

So we set about looking for a new care situation for Little G. I called daycares. I phoned home care agencies. No one had spots for infants. I trawled Craigslist, Kijiji, Daycare Bear and Go Daycare and followed up on any leads I could find. You read about those results if you read my recent post "The Daycare Game". I looked on notice boards in local stores, libraries and drop-in centres. I tried everything I could think of, and no dice. I even interviewed a potential nanny, eventhough financially that's not the best option for us, and eventhough I have been less than impressed with the Nanny Mafia that I have seen carousing our neighbourhood.

Just before Christmas, I went to my boss and told him what had happened. I asked him to consider a leave of absence - unpaid - because we could get Little G into Big C's daycare in March. It wasn't an absolute guarantee, but we are on the priority list since Big C has been there forever, they love him and they knew that we were desperate. My boss checked with Human Resources, and they said NO. However, my boss said I could take some vacation time in January to see if we would have any luck finding someone. It was difficult getting in contact with people over the holidays.

I took a week's vacation - found one nice home care lady who said that she didn't have room, but she could watch Little G for a month till we found something more permanent. That wouldn't get us till March, though.

Then we interviewed a fabulous, wonderful, amazing nanny. A nanny who changed my mind about what nannies could be like. One that was worth taking every penny of my salary to employ. We extended her an offer. I sent my boss an email saying that we had found a possible solution, and that I would be back at work on Monday. Monday morning, she sent us an email saying NO. She couldn't commit the time right now.

So, instead of going back to work victorious, I had to go in and tell my boss that we thought we had a nanny, but we didn't and would he reconsider a leave of absence? At this point, the leave would be about a month and a half, with luck. More, without. He came back from HR with an unequivocal NO. A Leave of Absence was simply not on the table, he said. So I resigned from my job.

Although it may seem like a precipitous decision, it was not. Mr Earth would support any decision I made - to stay home or to keep working. We had come to the conclusion that even if we found another home care situation, it wouldn't work. A nanny was the only realistic solution, and this was the only nanny I had found that met my expectations. I could, of course, find another with time, I am sure, but time is not something I had left.

You see, the double drop-off, and double pick up - two different daycares, two different children and only one me, was making me sick. Literally sick. I would leave work early every day (when I really shouldn't) and take off at a run for the subway. I ran from the subway, and got Big C dressed and shoved him in the stroller. I ran with the stroller to Little G's daycare. Got Big C out and up the stairs, got Little G dressed and both of them down in the stroller to walk home.

Mr Earth, in the meantime, left for work in the wee hours and had to leave work early (when he really couldn't) and go home to make sure that dinner was ready so that the natives wouldn't scream because they hadn't been fed soon enough and they were too tired to wait. We put them to bed, got everything ready for the next day, and it started all over again.

I was sick. I was nauseous all day long, for weeks on end. It got so bad, that I took a pregnancy test. A week after I had my period. And I hadn't had sex since. Does that make sense to you? It didn't to me either. But what else would explain it? It may have been the flu. But would it last so long? Would it magically disappear at Christmas break? And would it magically reappear just after New Year's, when I was supposed to be back at work? I thought I was made of sterner stuff. I thought I could handle this without making up imaginary illnesses. But I guess I couldn't, and there comes a point where you reassess and say - is this really worth it???

Many people have said that I should have fought for my job. Maybe. I was union. I am not a litigious person. I have also never loved my job. It was easy. It allowed me to do theatre in my spare time. When I became a parent, it allowed me to work, but not have that work spill over into my family time. But I have never loved it. I've never really even liked it. Why should I fight for a job that I don't love, in a company that very obviously does not love me?? Cause if they really valued the SEVEN YEARS that I had been a loyal - and exemplary (if I do say so myself) - employee, then they could find a way to make a leave of absence work.

Oh, yes, I am not litigious, but I am angry. I don't think I was treated well. I think that they could have shown more lenience to a working parent who was in a difficult situation. After all, it's not like I was asking for time off because I missed being with my kids (which of course I did, what working parent doesn't?). I asked for it because I saw no other workable solution. I wasn't going to leave my kid with someone I don't like. Not for any job. How could I work?

The last day of my job, I worked until the very end, waiting for something to happen. A chance to say my piece. An exit interview, or something. I finally asked my boss if there was something I was supposed to do. He said he had forwarded the necessary info to HR and asked them if there was something I was supposed to do, and they hadn't gotten back to him. I still don't know if they have. I don't yet have a record of employment or any sort of closure. Thanks for ...nothing.

I am hurt, and angry, and kind of embarrassed. I'm also kind of relieved. And I haven't been nauseous since I left.

I'm still trying to get my head around the fact that I don't have a job anymore. It kind of seems like I'm on mat leave, and that's kind of fun. That will surely change once the money runs out. Now that I don't have to look for care anymore, I can focus my attention on all the things I can do now that I'm at home. All the things I won't miss because I was at work. The future is blasted wide open, and it's kind of... exciting. And very, very scary. I am a person who thrives on structure. I'm not sure just what to do with all this freedom. I need to make some decisions. I need to come up with a plan.

This may be the best thing that could ever have happened to me. Or, it may be just something that happened to me. I won't know for sure until I start moving in a forward direction. One thing is for sure, I won't regret having more time to spend with the boys.

They may regret having more time to spend with me.

We shall see, shan't we?

Four!

How did you get from a baby who screamed a lot, to a boy who calmly walks up the stairs and asks, "How did rehearsal go, Mummy?" How time does fly.

Love you, Boo.

The Daycare Game

It's been really difficult to find the time or the energy to post here when I've been consumed with the search (scramble?) to find child care for Little G. I've known that our home care lady would no longer be available after Christmas since the beginning of December - her father was diagnosed with terminal cancer - but I couldn't find anyone in before Christmas, and trying to talk to anyone at all over the holidays was fruitless. Getting Little G into a licensed daycare is nigh impossible unless I got him on a list three years ago (yes, that was before he was conceived, for anyone doing the math), so I have to find a homecare situation or nanny. He's almost guaranteed a spot at Big C's daycare - which accepts kids at 18 months.

Perhaps I should clarify. When I say I couldn't find anyone, what I mean is, I couldn't find anyone suitable. Anyone I would actually choose to leave my son(s) with. There are people out there. I was telling my running buddy about the possible candidates and she laughed and told me they sounded like bad dating stories. I agreed. Although, I think it's more like a mommy version of the Dating Game. Remember that show? Who would you pick...?

Daycare-orette #1: The Scientologist
To be perfectly fair, I don't know for certain that she is actually a Scientologist. She had a bookshelf in her living room displaying all of Hubbard's Scientology texts, though. And those were the only books on the shelf. Maybe she just wanted a little light reading..? Who knows. I was just having a hard time not staring at the ridiculously awful portrait of her and her husband directly behind her head. It was painted all in shades of mud brown, and was not at all flattering. They looked like evil, leering cartoons. It was distracting. When I reviewed a copy of her contract, she had a "damages" clause in it stating: I expect your children to respect my property. If your child damages my personal property, the parent will be expected to pay for the damage. Those may not be the exact words, but they were pretty close. Of course I would pay for any damages caused by Little G. But it begs the question - if you run a home daycare with 6 children all under two years of age, why are there breakable things lying around? Is she deliberately placing things in harm's way to make a few extra bucks? Other than that, I don't think she interacted with Little G even once during our interview.

Daycare-orette #2: Crazy Potato Lady
This lady seemed very nice and got right down on the floor with Little G. Promising. She only ever has three kids total. Good. She never goes outside in the winter. Ever. I gently asked why and she said, "Well, what would I do if it started to snow?" She looked alarmed. When I asked about food, she said she serves potatoes, rice and pasta. No mention of vegetable or fruit. But she told me that she puts homemade chicken soup into all her food, on her doctor's recommendation. Her doctor said that chicken soup ensures that kid's don't get sick. And she told me that her son has never been sick. (Perhaps because he's never set foot outside.) She was also very proud that her two-year-old son was very adept with Nintendo. Plays it all the time! Oh, and she lives on the second floor of a house and her outdoor play space for the kids is the balcony. In the summer, she just leaves the door open and the kids can play outside or inside at will. (Am I the only one who has a problem with this?). Failing that, she charges $30 more a day than any other home care that I've looked at.

Daycare-orette #3 - Lovely Full House Woman
So far our most promising option. She seems articulate, and motherly and patient. They eat nutritious, home-cooked meals! They go outside! She's a little more free-wheeling about sleep than I would like, but with a house full of kids, you have to be. We just met with her the other day, the trouble is, she is not sure that she actually has a full-time spot for Little G. She is waiting to hear back from another charge who supposedly needed more days. She offered to watch him anyways, till we could find a more permanent situation. That was very nice and I was shocked that she would be so generous. I'm not sure that I would want Little G there if she doesn't actually have the space for him. One person can only look after so many. We hope to hear from her today.


We also have a line on a supposedly incredible nanny who is travelling in Europe right now, and next to impossible to contact. So although she would be our first choice, we don't know when she's back and if we can actually afford her (Nannies in our area cost more a month than I actually make. Boo.)

Who knew the search for the perfect person could be so exhausting??

No one talks to the..

Worth a Thousand Words?

The only thing I can think of to do when words escape me...

Make photo slide shows at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Welcome Christmas, Bring Your Light

I've wanted to put up holiday lights ever since...well...ever since we bought a house. I think it makes a dark and dreary winter so much more festive. But, you see, I'm far too cheap (uh, "environmentally responsible") to spend the money to power said lights. Anyone else with me on this?? I mean, our bills in the winter are astronomical enough without adding lights into it.

So, you can imagine my excitement when Canadian Tire approached me with an offer to decorate our house for the holidays! Doubly excited too, because I am not a high-profile blogger or anything. Anyways, I looked through their catalogue and what to my amazement did I find but: solar-powered lights! [Cue Heavenly Music] What could be more perfect for the lowly blogger who is environmentally responsible??

I have a bit of a snowflake fetish, and I found these really lovely lawn stakes. They change colour every few seconds, and Big C is just mesmerized by them. He was so excited to have some "beautiful lights" on his house at last. (We've been admiring the displays of others on our walk home from daycare.) All the trouble of putting them up in a snowstorm was worth it to see the look on his face.

We also have strings of solar-powered lights in our cedars, but the only pictures that turned out decently on our crappy camera were the snowflakes. Behold! (These pictures do not do them justice.)

Our house, and the environment, are smiling. Good times.

Slipping Through my Fingers

Well, now, I'm all depressed. Just finished watching Mamma Mia. The movie was mostly fluff - the best thing about it (besides the music, of course) was the fact that it was filmed in Greece. And then they played this song:

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that Im losing her forever
And without really entering her world
Im glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl
Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table
Barely awake, I let precious time go by
Then when shes gone there's that odd melancholy feeling
And a sense of guilt I can't deny
What happened to the wonderful adventures
The places I had planned for us to go (slipping through my fingers all the time)
Well, some of that we did but most we didn't
And why I just don't know
Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture
And save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers...
Slipping through my fingers all the time



This just goes to show how brilliant Abba really was. And it's a timely reminder for me not to let precious moments drift away.

Wherein I bore (um, WOW) you with my Acting Prowess

At long last, rehearsals for my show are finally underway. Do you remember that I auditioned back in June? Holy Moley that seems like a long time ago! For one thing, we weren't covered in a mountain of snow. [Public Service Announcement: Shovel your @#$% sidewalks! You know who you are. Don't make me come after you with this big chip on my shoulder. But I digress...]

I've had a lot of people ask me in amazed tones just how I do it - get up on stage in front of so many people, memorize all those lines, produce tears, etc. These questions always kind of take me aback, because I don't see it as any special talent - it's just what I do. I have always maintained that acting is 5% talent and 95% hard work.

Continue reading at Playdate

I'll have a Blue Christmas

One of my very favourite things about Christmas is the tree - by a longshot. I have never grown up or out of the wonder, the magic, of the decorated tree. I love to see it lit up at night. I love walking downstairs in the morning and smelling the piney scent. I love to walk around and look at the decorations. No designer tree for me - ours is decorated with love and memories. And eventhough the actual put up and take down always seem to me an insurmountable chore, I love unwrapping the tissue and seeing my old friends:

I bought this the year we bought our house - which was also the year we got married. It looks nothing like our house. It looks homey, though, doesn't it?

This one I got in PEI this summer at the gift shop for the most famous lobster dinner on the Island. It's so famous I forgot the name. But the lobster was very good.

He doesn't look very Christmassy, does he? I love him though - he reminds me of Merlin. I am crazy for the Arthurian legend. Both Big C (middle name) and Little G (first name) were named after knights of the Round Table - who happen to be brothers.

When I first got this ornament as a gift, I thought he looked kind of creepy. He's grown on me. He's so festive! He is always placed near the front of the tree so that I can see him when I pass by. He makes me smile and do a little jig. (Okay, not really, but I do smile..)

My glass ornaments are very precious to me. I have no idea why someone gave me a teapot. I'm really more of a coffee drinker. I like this though, because it reminds me of Beauty and the Beast, and I always break out in a chorus of "Be Our Guest". And then I can't get it out of my head for a week.

Big C made this at daycare last year. Isn't he full of Christmas joy? Good times.

My mom made this in one of the Crafty Phases of her youth. Big C loves it. Little G will love it. I love it. And her.

I simply must have doves on my tree. This one is from a set of felt ornaments from the 70's. They have graced my tree for years.

My parents bought this for me in 1977. They bought us a decoration to commemorate each year and I am trying to follow that tradition. She usually hangs upside down in her swing. I have no idea how I managed to make her sit upright for the photo. It's a Christmas Miracle.

This is my Absolute Favourite. This was the first present I ever remember receiving. I was in kindergarten, and it was a Christmas present from one of the boys I went to daycare with after school. It's technically not an ornament at all. The tail is faded. The mane has been loved off. It is my Skin Horse. I would be devastated if it was lost.

This is the first year that Big C actually "helped" me to decorate the tree. Every time he unwrapped an ornament, he shouted "HOLY MOLEY" at the top of his lungs. It was enchanting. I will be sad when we have to take the tree down. It's the physical representation of holiday joy to me. What's yours?

I just can't seem to watch this enough

So tell me...which one are YOU??

Let your Heart be Light

No news on the sleeping front. We remain ever wakeful.

We've got a couple leads regarding care for the Little Guy in January, but it's mostly nannies. I don't know why I continue to feel this way, but I just don't feel that a nanny is a good fit for us. Maybe I just haven't met the right one...?

I still hold out hope that things will just magically work out. A Christmas Miracle. (Mr Earth's new and much overused phrase).

But YAY! Christmas is almost here! In the spirit of holiday cheer and good times, I will share with you 7 Random Things About Nomo's Christmas:

1. I love Christmas Carols. I never get tired of hearing them. Really! And you know what? When I hear them in a store, they really DO make me want to buy more. Go figure.
2. I can't stand blinking holiday lights. They make me crazy. If you want to see me go ballistic, stick me in a room with blinking holiday lights and come back in an hour and watch me go. It's some kind of weird Pavlovian-like response. (Or maybe I was abducted, hypnotized and sent back out into the world to wreak havoc...it could happen)
3. The only tree topper allowed in Casa Earth is a star. With apologies to you angel lovers out there, I just don't get it. Having a pine branch stuck up your butt all season just looks painful, and it makes me uncomfortable. But what do I know? Maybe the angel loves a prickly goose.
4. Christmas presents are opened on Christmas morning, NOT Christmas Eve. For those of you who open them on the Eve, whatever do you do the next morning? [Caveat: We open one present on the Eve, and one only - pyjamas to wear that night so everyone is decent for pictures in the morning.]
5. We must have a real tree. End of discussion. And, yes, I am still sweeping up pine needles from last year.
6. Much to Mr Earth's dismay, I find that Christmas is just not Christmas without Boney M.
7. When not screaming at me because they haven't slept long enough (Little G), or fake puking because I forced them to taste the sweet potato (Big C), my kids can actually be quite pleasant to be around. Sometimes they are even...adorable:

Photography by Tangerine. Winning message for this year's card is the title of this post.

I haven't been around much to your blogs due to lack of sleep, and desperate last-minute Christmas shopping. If anyone is struggling with presents for kids (yours or others), stop by Playdate today and read about the cool toys I found for the kidlets on my list. I got some rockin' deals! Nothing over sixty dollars!!

And now I sound like a used car salesperson.

Merry Christmas everyone. I am missing you greatly.

Yesterday

My day started at 4am when the Little Guy was up for the day. For. The. Day. No amount of coaxing would put him back to sleep.

I made a major error at work, a client shouted at me, and I broke down in tears (after hanging up) due to lack of sleep. I spent all day fixing the error, ignoring the many other urgent requests.

The lady who watches the Little Guy during the day - whom we love and the Little Guy has bonded with - has had to give us her notice. Her father was diagnosed with cancer. Awful story - he went to the hospital with what he thought was bronchitis, and it turns out he has inoperable lung cancer. Can you imagine? I feel just terrible for her. She's separated from her husband, watching her two kids (and mine) all day, her mother's passed away and she has to deal with this. Quit her job. Leave her house. Take care of her father. Merry Christmas.

I don't know what we're going to do for the Little Guy come January, but right now I can't even think about that. I haven't slept properly in so long that I'm about to lose my mind. My regular Playdate post was intercepted by a sorrowful tale of woes about the lack of sleep in our house. Please go over there and offer advice, support, anything. I'm desperate.

And tired. So, so tired.

The next Star Wars movie will be...

Dark Vader and the Dinosaur

(May include a guest appearance by a dimunitive green man called: Yoga)

I Am What I Am

Hi, my name is NoMo and I have a confession: I don't like to cook.

I don't like it. I don't derive any pleasure from doing it. In fact, it stresses me out. Timing everything so that it's all hot at the same time. But not too hot or it will burn the mouths of babes. Worrying if you're going to make people sick by undercooking the chicken. Worrying if you overcook the chicken that no one will eat it. Angry because you spent a lot of time making food and a certain somebody won't eat it because it's not grilled cheese. This is not fun for me.

I DO, however, love to bake. But you can't just bake goodies all the time. Brownies for breakfast, lunch and dinner is not cool. Especially when you have two little mouths to feed. (I'm pretty sure an all chocolate diet for kids is frowned upon. I'm not 100% positive though - I didn't read the handbook.)

I was reading Domestic Goddess Kgirl's post at Playdate about a working mother's meal planning, and I was just floored by how she's got her act together. I swear, one of the toughest things about going back to work is not rushing to get the kids out the door and to two different daycares, not rushing through a backlog of work, not rushing through lunch doing Christmas errands with less time than usual because you have to leave early, not rushing to get to two different daycares to pick up the kids and get them home before their mouths and there stomachs complain too loudly - it's that after all this, I then have to find something for dinner. And find it fast. This week I've foisted the dinner-making on Mr Earth, and have been much less stressed because of it.

This past year on mat leave, I have tried and tried to better myself in this arena. Once a week, I would make a healthy, balanced dinner from scratch. Not reheated, not defrosted, not from a can or a mix. From scratch. (And yes, I'm aware that once a week is abysmal, but remember, I am The UnChef). The boys and would go to the local markets and get fresh meat, fresh produce everything. I had some help from this awesome book that my friend at Random House sent me: The Good Food for Families cookbook. It's pretty great - it has lots of easy to follow recipes, advice about what to serve with the main dish, how to make the family meal kid-friendly and stuff about the Canada Food Guide. It's so user-friendly that I actually came to enjoy cooking a meal. The kids still didn't eat it, but oh well. The Boy doesn't venture far off the grains section of the Pyramid, and the Little Guy was just starting solids. I felt pretty good about myself. The quintessential Family Dinner. We even went around the table and shared our "three (favourite) things" of the day.

Needless to say, that has fallen by the wayside since going back to work. It actually fell by the wayside earlier than that, who am I kidding? And now that the Little Guy is turning out to be such an adventurous eater (beets! parsnips! salmon! bok choy!), I want to get some of that back. I feel so pressed for time, though. At the end of the day, I'm just happy if the four food groups re represented. I already spend so much of my evenings prepping for the next day so that I can get out the door and to work on time, if I add prepping a meal, I fear that I will lose any "me" time that I've scrounged for myself. Ack! Get out the world's smallest violins and play a sad song for me will you? Parenting is hard and I should suck it up.

Cooking is not my talent. No sir. I am good at many things, and that is not one of them. I need one of those doohickies from Star Trek where you just tell it what food you want and it appears. OH! That reminds me - something I AM good at: spotting the hotties. Get yourself on over to Playdate and see what Hollywood hotties made Mama Drama's list. You'll be surprised.

The Truth about Packs and Dogs

One of the best things about going back to work is the chance to read. Twenty minutes on the way to work in the morning and twenty minutes on the way home. If I'm lucky, and not running around like a chicken with my head cut off, I even get to read some at lunch.

Heaven.

I find reading so relaxing. It's one of the many manifestations of order in my life. If I have time to read, I can't be too overburdened or overwhelmed. I must always have a book 'on the go' and at least one 'in the queue'. If I don't have a book to read - even when I don't have the time to read anything - chaos ensues. If a book I am reading is no good, I am moody and annoyed (well, more so than usual). If a book I am reading is suspenseful I am tense and spook easily (Koontz's Intensity was a bad choice - I couldn't sleep). If a book is good, it's -- magic. I will find any and every chance to squeeze in a few pages, paragraphs, sentences even. I'm a slow reader, admittedly. I like to savour the words, not rush through them. On the upside, I remember what I've read really well. Sometimes I can even picture the words on the pages. That probably comes from memorizing so many scripts.

I just finished Kelley Armstrong's Bitten (Random House Canada). What a fun read! Just what the doctor ordered. I've been so stressed about returning to work, the Little Guy not sleeping, everyone being sick and trying to figure out just what I want to be when I grow up, that I really needed some kind of break. Bitten is pure escapism, and I loved it.

I went at it kind of blind (thought it was going to be about vampires - whoops!), and was surprised at the loot that fell out. I've never read any books about werewolves although I've seen lots of movies (Ginger Snaps, An American Werewolf in Paris, Teen Wolf. Anyone-??). With the exception of Ginger Snaps, most werewolf stories are kind of...um...unreal. (This is coming from a girl who LOVES fantasy novels, so take that as you will.) Armstrong pulled off a really neat trick of making a story about werewolves not only thoroughly modern, but very believable. Her narrative style, while it took me some time to get used to, is very familiar - like sitting down with a good chum and recounting what you did last summer.

If you want to get all philosophical and thinky, I would add that the book really spoke to me on a personal level because although it is about werewolves, fights for Alpha position, betrayal and all that, at the heart of the story is Elena's (the sole female werewolf, and central figure) struggle with accepting who she is, and not who she thinks she wants to be. Working through that whole can of worms myself, and it's a messy job.

But Boo to thinkiness - I want fun! I want excitement and intrigue! Bitten delivers. It's total book-candy. (And anyone who knows me well, knows how I loves me some candy..)

First Word

"UH-OH!"


We're in trouble.

One Day More

Wow, this week has been rough. If you're wondering why I've not been around more when I'm finally back in front of the computer most of the day, it's because I can barely keep my eyes open.

The Little Guy has decided that sleep is for the birds, and he's just going to forego naps and bedtimes in favour of staying awake and screaming. He screams on the way home from daycare, too. He wants to be held, and I just can't push the stroller and carry him at the same time. Not for that distance, and not with the Boy in the stroller. He also screams and crawls away when I try to clothe or diaper him (But that's old hat around here. You'd think I was torturing him, instead of trying to put on a onesie.)

The Little Guy now spends his days with a local mom and her two kids. She's studying to be a nutrionist, so she's a very good match for our second son, whom we fondly call "The Mouth". He'll eat almost anything. He does seem to like it there, though. In fact, the only time he's not screaming lately is when I drop him off in her arms in the morning. (I'm a little insulted, actually. The only time I expect him to scream and he turns mute and just watches me leave.)

The other day, Mr Earth was blowing raspberries on the Little Guy's tummy before bathtime and the Little Guy was chuckling away to himself, and I felt so lighthearted. I realized that it had been quite some time since I'd heard that sound. That made me a little sad. Okay, a lot sad.

On the plus side, I don't look as sloptastic as I usually do. Every few years, I go through this metamorphosis in the grooming department where I decide Everything! Must! Go! and this time around it happened to coincide with my going back to work. I've decided that if I'm going to work in an office, I should look like I work in an office, not like some student fresh out of university who cobbles together a sad little outfit that is woefully unacceptable. I've tried to apply the rules from my favourite show What Not to Wear. (I always laugh at the people who complain about having to shop on the show, but it IS actually very tiring! I should stop laughing). I've written about my new rules for what not to wear at the office when you're a mother newly back to work over at Playdate. Go have a read. Laugh at my blighted fashion attempts. Give me some wardrobe advice. I obviously need it..

Must sleep now. So very tired. And so very glad tomorrow is Friday.

And on the second day, it all went to sh!t...

Instant replay of my morning (or night...or morning...not sure which):

3am Mr Earth up with Little G
4:50 Mr Earth up with Little G (and, yes, Mr Earth rocks)
5:20 Nomo up with Little G
5:22 Nomo changes large stinky poo
5:25 Nomo puts Little G back to sleep
5:27 Nomo changes small stinky poo
5:30 Nomo sits in chair with Little G till Little G falls back asleep
5:45 Nomo puts Little G back in crib
5:47 Nomo disposes of stinky poos
5:50 Nomo goes back to bed
6:01 Nomo's alarm goes off
6:50 Nomo changes large stinky poo (this time from the Boy)
7:00 Nomo wakes up Little G
7:15 Little G poos again! (Mm, blueberries and sweet potato. I may never eat
again)

So, I had time to get ready without being screamed at, which was really nice. I smell like poo, which is not nice. The house smells like poo, which is even less nice. I did make it to work on time, but just barely. I had to run with the stroller most of the way. (Did I mention that Boy and Little G are in two DIFFERENT daycares?)

I am only now am drinking coffee.

[Side Note: Blogging at work is bad. Very, very bad. Bad, Nomo, Bad! But what a day Nomo had!]

Second Thoughts

Just when I have a lot to say, I find myself absolutely mum. Is it just me? I go back to work on Monday. I'm not certain it's the best decision. But I don't know if staying home is either.

I remember this time with the Boy. I was so ready to go back to work. It's not that I loved him less or anything, it's just that the whole baby thing was so overwhelmingly life-changing that I felt the need to cling desperately to what was. To the person I was before. To prove that everything had changed, and yet nothing had. I needed to go back. And I was emotional, but it was after the fact. I lost it when, breasts bursting from night-weaning, a colleague put forth the argument that people (mothers) who aren't prepared to stay home to raise children, shouldn't have kids at all. That kids raised by "other people" (whosoever those people may be) would basically grow up to be psychokillers (qu'est-que c'est). You just don't say things like to a mother who is newly back at work. You just don't.

This time, after five months of life moving in slow motion, my mat leave seemed to slip by like a feather in stream. I had all these plans, all these dreams of how I was going to do it so right this time. I wasn't going to make the same mistakes that I made the first time around. And I was right. I didn't. I just made new mistakes. The biggest one was that I let precious time slip past me while I was just trying to keep up with Life. I was so busy with the minutiae that I failed to see the Big Picture. My Achilles Heel.

Now I want that time back again. I want to say "Wait! Please rewind! I know I can do that better!" And I'm afraid. Afraid that I'm making a mistake. Afraid that by going back to work, I am losing precious time that I will never get back. Hugs and kisses and "good jobs!" that will be bestowed by another woman.

But I'm also afraid that if I stay home, I will once again get lost in the minutiae, and fail to see how special what I have really is. Perspective is crucial. But sometimes it comes at a very great cost.