5 Things

Must be pregnancy hormones or something, but I am feeling so appreciative for all the wonderful things in my life. In no particular order, they include:

#1 My adorable baby boy who does something charming and lovely every day - last Friday it was running into my bedroom with a tiny bouquet of flowers; "Fo' you Mama! And Daddy got a BIG flowers!!!" Tonight it was giving me a kiss and then telling me "You feel better now. Let's cuddle." And yes, two is hard, and I struggle with discipline, and occasionally he hits me in frustration, or pulls my hair, or throws himself to the ground and licks the floor of the bus while horrified passengers try not to stare. Sometimes he does all those things at the same time. But 98.9% of the time he is the sweetest, dearest, cuddle-monster who loves to do "art" to read books, to tell me about his day, and even, begrudgingly, to share. And that more than makes up for the other 1.1% of the time.




#2 My city. I am the least jingoistic person ever, but I got all teary-eyed several times today staring at the hand-painted signs in the window of every third house cheering "Go Canada Go!" I've read the Guardian's cynical criticisms (they called it the worst games ever). I won't bother linking because frankly, the article was silly, and I won't bother linking to the Canadian media response because it's been either overly defensive, or too apologetic. There have been hiccups, and even tragedy. But even as someone who normally feels completely detached from these sorts of events, there is something so electric about being here. About thousands of people from different countries coming together, celebrating and trying to each other a little bit about each other. Everywhere you go tourists and locals alike are wearing red Canada mittens. Strangers offer to help you fold up your stroller on packed city transit, and O.P.P. officers in town for just a few weeks help you carry your sleeping child up the stairs of the convention centre so you can have a glance at the flame. As LM would say "I so proud."














#3 My wonderful husband - who patiently explains to me the intricacies of curling rules and regulations and answers my 800 spaced out and repetitive questions, and then makes me dinner afterwards.














#4 The little one inside me who kicks and pounds and reminds me all is well. Sometimes I can even feel her bony little back against my tummy and I push her and she pushes back.



#5 My little boy again - who dashes out of the bathroom after Daddy has given his bath, drops his towel and yells "Mama! You like n@ked boys!" Which is funny because when I give him his bath I always tell him I like naked b@bies. (I censor that only because I'd hate to think what kind of bizarre Google searches it might attract.) And then he jumps up on my lap for a cuddle. Heaven.

Confrontation

I probably sounded a little more negative in my last post than I really intended. I actually feel very positive about this little girl, and all her little kicks, punches and twists. However, I won't deny there is still a tiny bit of anxiety that arises from time to time and because it's not something I really want to unload on my relatives and friends, I use this place to blow off a little steam. But as an indicator of my optimism, I have bought three, not overly girly but still slightly feminine, pieces of clothing in the last week. The tiny bit of worry I have left does make me a little more anxious to meet her. But I'm trying not to wish away these last few months of pregnancy, and of LM's only child status.

On an entirely different note, I had a fight with my mother this morning. It's funny - I don't shy away from confrontation. D and I argue. My brother and I argue. And I argue at work all the time. But they're usually pretty clean arguments, easily resolved and not ones where I go to bed angry. My mother and I are very close; she does a ton for LM and helps us out a lot. I probably talk to her 3 to 4 times a week.

Last night D, our family, plus my younger brother and his fiance, all had dinner. At her own suggestion, she brought food over here. D helped her make it, and I lay on the sofa, admittedly like a lump, because I was feeling my usual evening pregnancy tiredness. Evenings have been rough for me since the start of this pregnancy, but I will admit that I could have been more helpful. Then we all ate, raved about how good it was, and talked. I asked her not clean up, saying we'd do it later, but she did anyway. My future sister-in-law gave us a beautiful quilt she made for the new baby and we all oohed over that. Then my mother gave LM a bath; I don't think I asked her to do it, but I might have hinted. Honestly, I thought she would have wanted to because she won't see him for several weeks, but maybe that's rude. After the bath, mum stood around and sulked and I asked her if she was upset. She said she was not. And then she left. Little Bro and I pondered what might be the matter, and decided not to try and guess. She is prone to sulkiness (for example, at my older brother's WEDDING, at Christmas dinner and many other recent occasions). Most of time, she won't ever confess what it was about.

Today she calls me from the airport and tells me she's "hurt" I didn't talk to her more, and that I take her for granted. She said we spent too much time talking about things that did not interest her and people she does not know. That totally surprised me. I'd like to think I have some degree of emotional intelligence, and I don't think we "left her out" in anyway. But she claimed I didn't talk to her and only chatted with my brother's fiance (who was sitting next to me, as opposed to my mother who sat on the other end of the table).

My reaction was not very apologetic. I was a bit defensive about my behaviour, and then I said something about her being unfair. I wrapped it up with a comment about how she "brings it upon herself". At that point she either hung up, or we got disconnected. I'm not sure, but I wasn't able to get through to her afterward. I did, however, leave her a rational message wishing her a safe trip.

I am beyond annoyed about it. I find her behaviour quite childish. But at the same time, I feel sorry for her. I know she's probably lonely. She's been single for 20 years, and her sister and brother are both dead. She has friends and work, but few extremely close friends. She has this fixation on Little Bro and him not being attentive enough to her, which she complains about to me all the time. I am finding it increasingly find hard to sympathise with. For a guy in his 20s, my younger brother is actually remarkably considerate. He's not as fawning as my older brother, but then my older brother is 35, and has a few years more of life experience.

I feel guilty too - she DOES do a lot for us, and particularly LM, and I know we take that for granted. But I just feel these particular criticisms were unwarranted and the way she told me did nothing to make me sympathise more with her point of view.

She's gone now for two weeks and I have no means of contacting her other than e-mail, so I am trying very hard to write a rationale, non-defensive e-mail - to say I'm sorry for how she feels without either making excuses or admitting to something I don't think I've done. I don't think I'm quite there yet.

Recent Travels

Good lord, I have been a lazy blogger recently. Mostly it's because we've been away like mad. Also, I feel quite constrained in writing about work. I know this blog is anonymous and all, but I always have it in the back of my mind that someone might stumble upon this, and I don't want them to find my musings about my place of employment, so that cuts out a lot of potentially humerous and amusing stories.

On a more serious note, I'm frustrated in some ways that I am still not sure what I want to be, where I want to go, or all that stuff. I am struggling with being at work full-time. D is not all that happy at his job and so we are thinking about transitions for him. Transition with a large mortgage is not always the comfortable place to be. I don't think I will personally make any changes any time in the next year; it's really too soon to know what I want. But I have some ideas cooking away.

In other news, I had the most mellow wonderful couple of weekends. The first was a very adult-oriented trip. We dragged LM around wine country. He was such a good sport, despite the mega long driving and the lack of toys. My in-laws asked how many toys I brought to entertain him.
"Um, well someone at the campground gave him a bus, and then he played with rocks a lot," was my lame reply.

But have no fear, the second weekend was all about the LM, with lots of feeding ducks, petting goats, visiting farms, swimming in warm, toddler pools and so on. Oh, and buffets. Buffets used to gross me out, but when travelling with a picky toddler who is wary of the unfamiliar it is sooooo amazing to have a wide variety of foods to offer.

Tonight we called my brother, who had been visiting and LM had this sort of conversation with him about the weekend, which was so neat. LM cried out "Pigs! Goats!" My brother was all "???" until I explained that a few days ago, LM saw pigs and goats at a farm. Then LM chimed in again "Feed ducks! NO Turkey!" I realise that doesn't sound mind-blowing when I retell it, but to me it was very cool, because after patting the ducks and goats (or as he calls it, being "nice" with them) LM was scared of the turkey and didn't want to feed it. I've never heard him recollect about something that happened so many days ago unless there was something around to trigger the memory - like if he was right next to the item or place. In this case he was just pulling it out of his head without any visual cues. It was lovely.

Leaving the Little One

I've been missing LM a lot at work lately. I had this mini-breakdown outside the subway not too long ago, sobbing on the phone to my mother about how I didn't want to leave him all day long. It's tough. I don't know what came first, but he's also been very clingy when we drop him off the past few weeks. He was just wrapped to me this morning and wouldn't let me go. Finally peeled him off me by getting him interested in a toy car. I kissed him and left quickly, but I could hear him sobbing when I got outside. So at times, I think I am meant to be home with him.

And then this morning I had an appointment and kept him home late and he just had this complete tantrum, and I wonder, could I deal with this every day? I could and I would, but I'd feel slightly bored of that too.

I don't think anything is changing in the short- or medium-term, but it all has me thinking about where I want to go and what I want to do.

My baby fever is kicking into gear again too, but sometimes I wonder if it's just because I'd like another year off! But even if it were, would that be so wrong?

Planning Ahead

So I am doing all this naturopathic stuff recently to prep for pregnancy again. Not sure exactly when we will start trying for #2. I go back and forth between TOMORROW and six to eight months from now.

LM slept through the night the last two nights which does make the fatigue and sickness of pregnancy seem more feasible. But I was so exhausted and sick last time. I'm having a hard time imagining doing that with (a) a full-time job; (school is just as many hours, but there's much more opportunity for procrastination and sleeping in) (b) having a toddler to chase after and (c) have a toddler who does not sleep.

My normal naturopath is very down-to-earth and research oriented. She just went on maternity leave and her replacement is far more new-agey. She does traditional Chinese medicine and cranio-sacral. I'm not sure what I feel about that, but I'm very much of the mindset that it can't hurt and it might help. I'm enjoying it. I did this treatment yesterday called Bowen Therapy (warning skeptics - very little research has been done on its efficacy) and I do feel sooooo much less tense in my back and more relaxed. I'm also doing a bit of a detox as according to them both, this could contribute to the hideous morning sickness I had last time.

Anyway, all to say that babies are on the brain from time to time, but I'd like to work at least one more full year, I think. So for now, the IUD stays put.

Happy Chaos

My last few posts have been rather depressing, but I am hoping that the horrific start to this year is now over.

In other ways, life is very, very sweet. I feel like I'm kind of hitting my stride in terms of balancing the work/mother thing. I no longer feel guilty about the time LM spends in daycare. For a long time I resisted thinking that it's a "good thing" for kids to be in daycare and I still don't subscribe to the idea that a child is better off there. But I'm starting to realise there are advantages. He loves the other children and 'talks' about them constantly and I think he gets a lot out of being there.

Despite all the trouble we had finding a place for him to go, I am so pleased with the situation we have. The woman who cares for him is so wonderfully patient and loving. I've watched her defuse arguments between the children, and she's totally the mother I want to be. (Mind you, she has lots more experience as her kids are grown!) And she talks to the older ones with such respect and kindness, answering their questions with an appropriate mix of gravity and mirth. While her home is modest, she keeps them busy at the community centre and other spots. And really, what more do kids need than some toys, some books and each other? So it's not the major centre I briefly envisioned him at, but I'm actually pleased about that. LM forms very strong attachments and for him this works wonderfully. He literally leaps into the woman's arms at the start of the day. It's really rid me of any guilty I might otherwise feel because it's as if I'm leaving him with a surrogate grandmother.

Work is fine. I am very busy these days but I am learning to find balance there too - to say no if necessary and to realise when something is urgent or not really.

And life is just good. Even on the tough days, I find myself able to find joy in the small things. I'm rarely super-stressed. And for someone who's dealt with a heap of depression and anxiety issues in my past, I feel pretty proud of that given that first few years of law career + working mother could easily be the most stressful time of my life. But I feel in control, at least most days - and what else could I ask for than that?

Oh and LM finally started walking! It only took 18 months but he's full on racing now! I can't believe my baby is now really a little toddler now. He does and says something adorable every day. This one was taken awhile ago when he would only walk holding our hand.

Dear Uncle G

Dear Uncle G.

It's been a hard couple of weeks. I can't believe just over two weeks ago you were here and we had a conversation about Aunt E's life, and death.

I guess I learned to be careful what I wish for. With Aunt E, I kept thinking that the sickness dragged on and on. I think at one point I even blogged about wanting less time. By the time she left, I'd already mourned her for six months. I miss her terribly but when she died, I'll admit, a part of me felt relieved. But you were gone in just a few seconds, or at least that's what the coroner said. And this is so much harder. For me that is. I know it was probably easier for you.

It would be a stretch to call you a father figure, but you were basically the only older adult male who played a significant role in my life over the past few years. I'll miss that. Everywhere I look there are reminders of you - a pair of gloves you left, a beer you made, a book you bought for LM, or a sleeper, or a toy. I'll keep all those things, but it breaks my heart to think there won't be any more. Your presence will fade away.

I am angry at you too. I'm mad that you never saw a doctor. Maybe they could have detected this - maybe they could have prevented in. Hearts are fixable things these days - just look at those late night talk show hosts having heart surgery and going on to host more shows. Don't you know we needed you? Didn't we have plans?

And I feel guilty too - guilty that I took you for granted. I thought we had more time and I've been so busy with work and Aunt E and LM - I tend to get a little wrapped up in myself. I thought we'd get to go to a football game, to have you over more, to take another family trip together, to go for lunch on the Drive again. I want you to know that when I first moved to this city the first time, 9 years ago now, you were my best bud. I'm so glad we got to know each other that way and become friends.

I know you weren't perfect, and you knew that too. You were actually a pretty weird guy. One of my earlier memories of you is about you talking about some obscure battle in British India. You were obsessed with weird military facts. And you could be pretty politically incorrect - which is kind of weird since you were pretty faaaaaar left. Plus you teased your sisters mercilessly.

Your place was so tidy when I went over. It was almost like you were expecting me. Your will was ready - your taxes done. Almost like you were preparing to die even though I know that was the farthest thing from your mind. All I had to do was clean up the blood and erase the porn off the computer. And put away the full glass you had out. I'm really sorry you didn't get to enjoy that one last drink. Maybe you're toasting us somewhere in heaven. I hope so. And if so give Aunt E a hug for me.

Sad Times

I know this whole, "my family is so insane" thing is probably getting old, but my family is SO insane.  This week has been horrid.  So much so that even work told me to take a few days off and deal.  I was fine - composed and everything, but when they heard what was going even the workaholic law firm was like "man, sounds like you need a few days off."

My uncle was found dead in his apartment.  Which was awful.  I was shaking and terrified when it happened - had to call his daughters.  Had to call the coroner.  Had to call the funeral home.  Had to tell my mother her only living sibling was no longer living.

The next day my younger brother and I went over to his apartment and cleaned up the blood off the floor.  He'd fallen.  We didn't know why.  His glasses were lying on the ground soaked in blood.  We didn't know if it caused his death.  A drink was sitting, unfinished on the ledge.

Thankfully the coroner called me and confirmed it was a massive heart attack and not the fall that killed him.  Why does that make it better?  I don't know. Maybe it seems more inevitable and therefore less tragic?

Then there was the funeral home debacle.  My cousin say there gleefully picking out flowers, urns and music and then, when presented with the bill, announced she had no money.  Which we knew and it was fine - we (our side of the family, not me personally) always intended to pay.  We offered, and she just nodded and kept on talking.  No "Gee thanks for shelling out $7000.  I'll get ya back later when I inherit part of his estate..."  ARGH!   We'll present the bill when the estate is administered, but still... ARGH!

This probably doesn't sound that bad itself isn't so bad if you don't know how evil she is.

 But this might illustrate it.  

By way of background, she can't keep a job for more than a week, and has borrowed or mooched thousands from my deceased uncle and aunt, none of which they ever saw again.  So tonight I got a Facebook message from my uncle's best friend, the man who called me crying Tuesday to tell me what happened, the man who found him, who is in a very vulnerable place right now.  Also by way of background, this guy has NO money to spare.  He and my uncle work blue collar jobs and live pay cheque to pay cheque, socking away what they can here and there.  The friend tells me evil cousin has asked him to come over and take some of my uncle's things.  Part of me thinks, "Hm... has she cleared this with her sisters?"  But I decided to not get involved.  Then I get another message from him saying that my cousin is claiming she cannot pay her rent and wants to borrow money from him!!!  And what should he do, because really he doesn't have any money but he wants to help her?  So the plan to "give" him some of my uncle's things was really just a way to lure him over and ask for dough!  I am SOOOOOO furious with her I can barely speak.  I called him to say that if he loans her money, he should be aware he will never see a penny of it again.

I am so furious.  And I'm furious that instead of just being allowed to grieve for my uncle, a man who I was very close to, I am having to deal with this crap.

Sleepless Nights

Sleeping is not generally something I have a problem with.  But I've had lots of sleepless nights recently.  My uncle was found dead in his apartment yesterday.  I got a call from a friend who had been told by the friend who found them, and then had the lovely task of calling his daughters, attempting to figure out what to do with his pets, calling my mother (his sister), dashing across town to talk to police and then just starting to process it all.

Now I'm just lying in bed dreading going over there tomorrow, wondering what I'll find, and feeling so incredibly sad.  C'mon universe, I know you can do better than this.

More Details

I have thought about that last post a bunch of times and debated taking it down, because it's really not my secret to share. But after nearly erasing it a couple of times, I've decided that the likelihood of anyone who knew my aunt stumbling across this blog and piecing together that it was her is slim to none.

I did some inquiring with the one person who I thought would know - just hinting and testing the waters. I guess I'm transparent because she verified that yes, 40 years ago my aunt put a child up for adoption. She got pregnant and was shipped off by her parents to one of those homes for unwed mothers. Her child, a boy, was born and sent out for adoption. Only one or two people in this whole world know about it, although I have widened that by telling my brother (and, I guess, you.)

It's shaken me pretty profoundly for several reasons. First, how could our family keep such a secret? We're so bland. I never in a million years would have guessed that she was hiding something like that. I think of my pregnancy and talking it over with her and getting her to feel the kicks, and never realising that she had been through that herself too. I think of her holding LM, I think of talking to her about the man she loved, her inability to have children - I can't believe it never once came up. She wasn't exactly one to keep secrets - she talked so openly about everything. Either she was extremely ashamed or harboured a lot of sadness about it.

Second, how on earth could my grandparents have done that to her? It makes me very angry with them. They were perfectly well-off and certainly could have supported her. The thought of being sent somewhere to be pregnant and give birth alone, and then to have your baby taken away, well, it fills me with sadness. To think my grandparents were so embarrassed by it that they hid it. It's gross. I wasn't there and don't know the details of how it was arranged, but the whole idea makes me feel sick.

Yet it explains so many things... she didn't exactly have the happiest life and I can't help but wonder if this wasn't part of the reason why.

And of course, it makes me sad that this child will never get the chance to meet her and she will never meet him. Apparently she did put her name on a registry, or try to contact him a couple of times, but nothing ever came of it. Maybe he didn't want to meet her - I know not everyone does. I'm probably being slightly dishonest in feeling sad for him - I also feel sad for me. It's selfish, but I would like to meet him. Somehow I don't think that will ever happen.

Skeletons

Had a pretty shocking day today. Was over at my aunt's today going through her papers to find out all the things I need to take care of, and I found a crumpled old letter. Actually, D found it. He was like "Who's JW?" And I said "I have no idea."

In my aunt's handwriting the envelope was marked "Details of [JW], born Jan [x], 1968." The letter was addressed to her and postmarked 1987. Inside was a typewritten commentary that looked older than '87. It took me a few moments to process, the letter had headings like "Details of the adoptive mother" and "Details of the adoptive father" finally "Details of the adoptee." The adoptee was JW, whose last name at birth was the same as my aunt's, and who was apparently was a "very happy baby" who slept through the night from 5 weeks on, and was sitting up very well by six months. JW had (has?) blue eyes and blonde hair. The letter said the adoptive parents believed the most important thing for a child is a loving home and they believed in letting a child chose his own religion, although they themselves were Protestant. They lived in a three bedroom home close to modern amenities, including shopping. There was so very little on that page, and yet so much.

In 1968 my aunt was barely out of her teens. In 1987, the date of the postmark, the 'baby' would have been 18 or 19, so about the age one would perhaps attempt to contact an adoption agency to get info on such a child. My aunt had a hysterectomy in her mid 20s and never had her own children, or so I was told.

I can think of no other explanation than the obvious - my aunt gave up a child for adoption. I have so many questions but I don't know that there are any answers. I have no idea what to do with this information, if anything, or who knows it. This being an executor is some heavy, heavy stuff.

Sweet Dreams

My aunt died today. I was there. It was peaceful. I won't say it was fast because she has been dying for months. But it was kind of sudden - one moment she was there and the next she wasn't. I kind of want to record somewhere what it was like - to be with someone dying. I read the pamphlet in the waiting area for loved ones called "Preparing for a Loved One's ..." can't remember the word they used, was it Death or Passing? Anyway, so much of it really happened just like they said in that brochure. Almost every symptom. But it feels kind of unfair to record that all here for posterity.

Instead I will just like to say she was a very generous person. She gave more than she got. She was stubborn, and sensitive. She was blunt and upfront. She cared very deeply about people and would do anything for those she loved. She had a very interesting life and helped a lot of people through her work. She was kind of a psychic and was very into reading people's auras and their tea leaves and all kinds of things. She had several very close female friends who have just been devastated by this happening. I was comforting one this evening and part of me wanted to say, hey, comfort me!

It's tough, when someone is ill for so long, to remember them before the illness defined them. But this is helping. I'm still in a lot of shock - usually when I send out a "family" e-mail it's to her, my mother, my husband, my brothers and their significant others. I guess now I don't add her to the To: line anymore. That will be weird. As will the family stuff - no Christmas with her, no Thanksgiving. I have some regrets - I wish I'd hung out with her more on mat leave. But part of me knows that's okay - hindsight is always 20/20.

I also want to note that we had amazing care - not just her, but all of us. The nurses were so wonderful and kind and thoughtful. They gave us hugs and brought us ice cream. People complain a lot about Canada's health care system, but it's amazing. She had so much support throughout her cancer. She had access to experimental treatments, alternative treatments, fantastic oncologists, a nurse who visited her at home and so many other resources.

When my father died of cancer he was treated at one of the best teaching hospitals in the U.S. (we lived there then), and I don't think the level of care was any better. The community resources (like the home-visit nurse) were certainly not as good.

I went swimming tonight with LM and he was so happy and joyful. I have so very much to be so very thankful for.

Anyway it's been a real long day. G'night and sweet dreams. xo

I Never Felt So Wicked as When I Willed Our Love to Die

There is a lot swirling around in my brain right now and if it weren't close to bedtime just before the start of another busy week (and the end of a very busy weekend) I'd probably write more.

My first thoughts are around how death brings out the worst in some people. There is at least one vulture already on the horizon, squawking about inheritance and attempting to get her greedy little claws into everything. My aunt is not even dead yet and this carrion eater is circling. She's telling everyone what a huge inheritance she stands to get and is also complaining about how my aunt is "wasting money" by not cancelling her car insurance and gym membership. Yeah, I'm sure that's top of mind when you're in the hospital dying because you have 19 brain tumours. The vulture is also telling people my aunt is a millionaire, which is so far from the truth it's laughable. This cousin has always had a sense of twisted entitlement - a sense that had a rough ride and everyone else has it easy...and (this is important) because of this they owe her something. The fact that she thinks my aunt is rich just demonstrates that delusion. The capper is my aunt and this girl didn't speak for a year before her death because this cousin picked a huge fight and refused to speak to her, although they did reconcile in the past month or so.

Also, my aunt - god it's so fucking awful. I won't write more than that.

Number three - this is so stupid - I got in a fight over a parking spot tonight. Some cow left a note on my car telling me not to park in front of her house. So I went to her house and knocked with a note saying unless she can show me documents indicating she owns the street I'll park wherever the goddamn hell I please. Let me add I was parked in a LEGAL SPOT for about 2 hours because I was at a friend's. It's not like I parked my junker for three days in front of her driveway. She came out on the street and started yelling at me - it was hilarious actually, although I did feel kind of bad strapping LM into his carseat as crazy lady yelled at me. You know what I hate? Note culture. I hate people who leave notes or send e-mails to deal with ridiculous situations. Talk to your f*cking neighbours please. Okay, I admit I didn't handle the situation as well as I could have and I'm lucky it didn't go (even more) sideways. Watch the police show up at my place because crazy lady reports my license plate. But you know what? It was really cathartic.

But not everything going on in my head is super depressing - in the past couple of days I've had some major realisations about what I want to do that are quite exciting. I'm contemplating hiring a life coach, which seems sort of new agey but I've got a couple of friends who have done with great success. I am going to set a goal - working for myself by 2010, doing legal education, giving back to the community, working with women and youth and individuals. I haven't got it all worked out in my mind - in fact nowhere close - but I've got to start a brainstorming process that involves more of a goal than just "Put in time at big firm." This situation with my aunt has been tough, but if there's one thing I'm learning it's that sometimes the present is a good place to be, and I need to make the most of it.

Nigh

I've been crying wolf on this for months now, but the end is nigh for my aunt. The last few months have been constant crisis and it's all now sinking in. I know so many people wish for more time, and this is horribly awful, but sometimes I wish we'd had less. Finding her losing use of her limbs? unable to get out of bed? Not a good day. Finding her unable to get up to use the toilet? Not a good day. Several months of being completely immobile and housebound? Not great. Having to be cared for by strangers, albeit very patient, nice ones? Losing her sight, her appetite, her ability to have a conversation. Being left alone in hospice care while most of her family (i.e. us) went to a wedding for 10 days. Listening over and over and over to those damn healing tapes that tell you that if you just think positive it will get better. Forgetting words, being told you have to give away your dog, having all these colleagues you haven't seen in years come to gawk at you in your hospital gown, lying in bed for hours on end. Yeah, it hasn't been a great few months.

The Desert Far Away

Wow - sounds like D's company is getting bought out. We think this is good news - room to grow, more opportunities, a chance to be part of something bigger. But somewhere in the back of mind I'm still a little worried about what that could mean and in the current times of course layoffs are something to be scared about. I know we could afford for D to be in a lower-paying job, but right now we pretty much live off his salary, and the thought of all that added pressure on moi to keep performing and working is a little daunting. I really do not want to be working full-time when and if we have a second child. Anyway, that's exciting news, we think.

Second of all, how could I mention today without a little reference to Obama - from all the coverage you'd think we were the 51st state. Very exciting times, although I'm kind of saddened that I now live on the less progressive side of the border.

I spent part of the day looking at the Obama Playlist that CBC listeners have been voting and fussing over for the past week. It's a list of 49 songs that are supposed to define Canada and introduce it to Obama. I wonder if the CBC is sending over a comp iPod or just a print-off... Anyway, I'm a little disappointed in the final results. I mean, the Rankin Family? Barf. And no hiphop or anything very cutting edge. But at least Arcade Fire made it on there... and here's the song they were playing on my ride to work.

Wintertime is a dirty cold rival

As I get older, I sometimes feel like the joy gets a little more sucked out of Christmas... instead of being about giving and joy it's about negotiating with in-laws over where you should have dinner and buying tons of crap.

I am trying to think of ways to change that - to bring back the joy a little bit. Little Man is a little older this year and I think he will enjoy the festivities, but the significance of the holiday will still be lost on him, so I can't look to him for all my changes. One idea I've implemented is adopting a family in need and buying presents for them; we signed up for that last week and I am so excited to shop for them and give a little joy to someone who needs it more than I do. I'm also keen to do something soup kitchen-y, but I'm not sure where to fit that in between all the events we will likely be obliged to attend.

So what are your ideas? How do you reclaim the joy?

Also, real Christmas tree - is next weekend too early to put it up? Will it be overly crispy on Christmas Day? I usually aim for two weeks before Christmas, but if I put it up next weekend it will be almost three weeks. On the other hand if I wait, it will only be up 10 days... dilemmas!

Morbid Game

D and I were just playing the "what would you do if you only had six weeks to live?" game. And we're not talking the six weeks of health, where you can flit off on the trip of a lifetime to Zanzibar, but where you are dying and sick.

His suggestions were:

1. Snuggle LM
2. Fly family out to spend time with him
3. Spend time outside as much as possible
4. Eat good food and great wine
5. Work as much as possible and do more powerpoint presentations (errr... not)

Mine were:

1. Snuggle LM, and keep him up really late, and let him fall asleep in my arms always
2. Go to yoga or meditation as I could
3. Get massages, pedicures and manicures and spa treatments
4. Get my hair done so I look great
5. Spend time in the country or go stay there

I can think of dozens more things, and many that would be higher on the list than those five or six, but that's not the point of the exercise. It was more about the first things that popped into our heads.

The sad thing is, I don't think you really get that chance. You never know you have a perfect six weeks. You're told six months, and it's only a month, or you're told a month and it's a year. Or you're not really told anything at all except that things aren't looking real good. You're in denial, you're angry, you're frightened, you hope against all hope it doesn't happen. I don't think many people just sit back and ponder about the meaning of life and make amends to all their old friends and leave hundreds of letters with advice to their children. There was a woman on Oprah who did that, but I suspect she is in a very teensy minority of people who keep their head about them. I think most people are desperate and scared.

Despite the horrid prognosis faced by my aunt, she had resolved that she would "beat" this thing... but the bad news keeps piling up. Today it was about more cancer... all over the body. I'm not supposed to know that yet. Probably the braver thing would be to admit that I do know and call her and try to think of the right thing to say, but I'm afraid to. So I'm taking the easy way out and keeping up the I don't know charade for another day until I can absorb this. Don't judge me...

Formula

Work + everyone in the family being sick = dead tired.

Non-Believer

Sometimes I wish I believed in miracles... but I have trouble with miracles. I've hoped for miracles for a long time, and so far, I'm still waiting. I'm sure they do happen occasionally. I'm not talking about every day miracles (of which there are many) but about the kind that are really so far-fetched that they are tales for Ripley's Believe It Or Not or from some saint's biography. I'm sort of a realist-pragmatist-idealist, but not a miraclist. So what do you do when someone says they are anticipating just such a miracle? I guess smile and nod is all you can do... and hope they're right, but be prepared for the fact that they're not. Definitely don't want to have to be the one to say I told you so.

Amusing Stories

Note to self: do not watch movie in which child dies immediately before going to bed. Ugh. I am going to have bad dreams tonight.

Mother postponed her trip slightly and now another family member is coming to look after aunt for a while, so that's good. Gawd... rips your heart out. So many good things were coming her way. Things are on ice right now as steroids and radiation has everything in a holding pattern.

On other issues: Work - it's good... I just wish I didn't have to be there quite so much. Am pining for a four-day work week and trying to figure out how/when/if that would work. D and I are slowly coming to the conclusion that it just isn't working for us to have both of us working long hours, so something's gotta give eventually. He is starting to think seriously about moving jobs and I'm contemplating what I will do once my articles are up.

Had my first solo court date today - nothing major, just a little small claims issue. I was able to sort of enjoy it, though I must admit I quavered a bit when I got up to speak.

Provincial courts really are fascinating places if you like people-watching. Most people in small claims are acting for themselves so they just get up there and start ranting which is kind of fun. But it's also kind of frustrating. It's sort of ridiculous that someone can owe someone else thousands of dollars and be allowed to pay them back over a period of years. I have no idea how typical that is, but what I was watching today was mostly people coming up with long convoluted schedules for repayment.

There was one group trying to figure out some payment schedule and literally the dude wanted to pay back $7000 at a rate of $10 a month. The judge shot that down but only set the payment at $100 a month. I mean, I know for some people that's a lot, but the guy had a $300 cell phone bill and admitted to spending $40 a month on alcohol and smokes. To me those are not fixed expenses. Another party begged not to up their monthly payments even though they made $75 charitable donations each month (and owned 3 cars). I'm sorry, but if you owe someone a few thousand dollars, I think your obligation should be to them over some prosletysing charity (and over your '79 Chevy).

I'm still mulling over whether I want to do corporate law or whether I want to be in the courtroom. One thing litigation definitely has in it's favour is amusing anecdotes. There aren't as many of those when you're stuck in a boardroom with a bunch of documents doing due diligence.

Bad News

Confirmation today that the cancer has spread to the brain. Not a good thing. A quick Google search on this is not at all optimistic. I'm not sure if my aunt will even make it out of the hospital. Went to see her today and it only sunk in then.

"I always thought I'd live forever," she said.

"Well, you still might" I said, voice wavering.

"I don't think so," she said.

I'm just feeling this hideous guilt too, that I didn't do more for her, see her more this year while I've been at home. She loves LM and always wanted to babysit, but I only really arranged that she do so once. I should have taken him over more, I should have gone there myself. The last time I saw her she was dropping off a housewarming gift and she wanted to chat; we sat in the backyard for a while but I was in a rush to do an errand before leaving town and I was glancing at my watch. Why didn't I just tell her more often that she meant a lot to me? And what can I do now to make up for it?

Some of My Close Friends Are Cyclists

My baby brother has decided to throw his hat in the ring for a local political position. I think it's great - he's a young, radical, idealistic guy, but at the same time he's very reasonable, articulate and compassionate. In short - just the kind of person we want in politics. I must admit to a tinge of envy as I'd love to do something political eventually as well.

Anyway, his campaigning efforts are very grassroots. I came up with the idea that we should wear t-shirts with his name on them and attend local neighbourhood events where there are people likely to be sympathetic to his cause.

My brother is a very keen cyclist and part of his platform includes alternatives to car transportation. He does own a car, I think, but I have never seen him drive. In fact, I've never even seen it. He rides his bike everywhere and is active in Critical Mass events held in our city. (For those not familiar, on the last Friday of the month cyclists meet up at some key location and ride together through the streets to raise awareness and encourage biking; it can be controversial among motorists who are caught unaware, since the cyclists "cork" the intersections and prevent traffic from going through until the whole group, often thousands, has gone through.)

While I agree with that platform, and I think cars should be much more careful and more respectful of bikers, I do find some of the self-righteousness a little tiresome. This weekend we were driving down our street and there was a cyclist riding right smack-dab in the middle of the lane. It was a very wide lane and there were no cars parked on the side of the road to avoid, so it was a little bit obnoxious of her. Unphased, we passed her on the left, giving her at least four feet of clearance. We thought we had been quite respectful, so we were rather shocked to see her cursing us in the rearview mirror.

At the intersection she caught up to us and said "You were getting kind of close there." Never one to resist a fight, I had already rolled down my window and come up with a saucy reply. "It's called 'Share the Road'," I said, "not take up the entire road with your bike." Then there was sparring back and forth in which I proclaimed myself a cyclist as well (okay, sort of a white lie, but I did ride my road bike a lot before LM came along) and she told me we weren't using common sense. Sometimes people are far too self-righteous to reason with so I finally just looked away. (Thought of a great come-back two blocks later though.)

A few minutes later I suddenly realised both D and I were wearing our very bright, very large print "Vote Little Brother!" t-shirts. We started laughing until tears rolled down our face, because I'm sure that this crazy woman is probably someone who would absolutely love some of Little Brother's platforms. I called Little Bro to tell him about it, but somehow he didn't find it quite as uproariously funny as I did, so I decided to come here and tell you all instead.

Another Thought

After a weekend of trying to get excited about places that are well over half a mil, yet are all, in real estate speak "in need of TLC" and are in far distant parts of town, I've had another thought - the joint buy. That's right, buying a place with an in-law suite that we co-own with my mother. She'd rent out her part until she's more doddering and ready to downsize and live in it. In the meantime we'd rent it out. I'm actually pretty excited about the idea, and importantly, so is D. Oh, and of course my mother.

It will probably take longer to find the right place, but we could get a lot more. I'm not too worried about personal space - if anything, it would likely be my mother who would have to set boundaries on us. She's very sensitive to not 'intruding'. I guess the only wrinkle would be if D and I decided we didn't want to be in this city any more, or if she did. But I suppose by buying a place in the first place we are committing to being here for a while, and the way real estate is around here we'd stand to make some money even if we had to sell in five years. The demand here is so high that I don't see a crash happening - and even if there was a crash, it doesn't matter if your money is invested in a small single family home, or a larger one with a suite. So what do you think? Would you ever do it?

I'm watching the View right now while LM naps, and I just can't believe Whoopi is doing LA Weight Loss commercials. The commercials are so damn cheap looking. Speaking of naps, all my smugness about LM's sleep lately? It's gotten pretty bad again. Naps are working all right though there was a brief interlude where he stopped napping too. He was actually in a perfectly fine mood during that stint - but I almost went out of my mind - entertaining a baby for 12 hours a day is exhausting. That's improved again, but he is up SOOOO often at night. It's quite incredible. I keep reminding myself - everything is a phase!

I'm Bored, Therefore I Blog

BLAHHHH! Another day of mat leave - another evening spent alone reading blogs and playing online Scrabble while baby sleeps. Not sure if this has come across yet in my other posts (hah), but I really hate the fact that my husband works SOOOOO many hours!

You know what would be amazing? If I were on mat leave but I worked one day a week at a trendy clothing store; or maybe two half-days. Just enough to have intrigue and drama to talk about (because the owners and customers of this mythical trendy store would be very intriguing) but still loads of time for baby sign language classes and pushing the stroller in the sunshine while sipping a (dairy-free) frapo-mocha-tini. (I won't be insulted if that last sentence makes you throw up in your mouth a little - but I do love my baby sign.) Unfortunately childcare would cost me more than I could make in any trendy store, so that will remain a pipe dream. Imagine that - longing to work retail. Think of the discounts.

Anyway I may be off to bed since I am likely in for another long night - the wee man has bronchitis and his coughing wakes him often. And because he is thirsty or perhaps has a sore throat from the cough, he decides to wake me. I took him in last week but the random doctor at the walk-in clinic said "Oh, it's a cold." Um, yeah, I figured, but the kid coughed so hard he barfed and the nurse's line told me to bring him in. Sadly the walk-in doctor didn't spend enough time with us for me to express those concerns. After a quick once over with a cold stethoscope that made him cry, she just said "Steam him in the shower and feed him more often." The nurse's line made the exact same suggestions so I was super-happy to have bundled him up, driven to the clinic and waited in a room full of people much sicker than us. It's not that I wanted drugs - far from it - but another 30 seconds of reassurance and maybe some suggestions of what to watch for would have been nice. The clinic was not so busy that she couldn't have given that to a worried first-time mum.

And doesn't the "feed them more" advice seem silly? It assumes you don't demand feed - because if you're demand feeding you can't really feed them more since they eat whenever they're hungry. And since most doctors advocate demand feeding (at least that's the advice given to most of my IRL friends and chatroom buddies) shouldn't it be the baseline of normal? The advice should be "continue to demand feed." Which is what our family doctor said today at our four-month visit. (Yay!) She also diagnosed the bronchitis and spent a few minutes giving me advice on what to do and answering my questions. Now just hoping he recovers fast.

In other news - is this not the face of an angel? Don't you want to bury your face in that double chin?

Merry Belated Christmas

This is one of the first Boxing Days where I haven't had that overwhelming sense of let-down. Why? Because there is so much that I'm looking forward to in the next little while. I am a huge Christmas person, so that's a big admission for me. But LM just gets more interesting every day. And D and I are browsing real estate listings and thinking about a fixer-upper. And I'm really enjoying mat leave but also not entirely dreading the prospect of working again eventually. So life is good.

Also, Christmas and holidays are pretty over-stimulating for the kiddo so in a way I'm looking forward to getting back into my rainy January routine. We had events three nights in a row and LM tolerated the first two quite well, but by last night he was done like dinner. We were at my aunt's house trying to enjoy turkey dinner and he just screamed for about 30 minutes. All told four of us took turns trying to calm him down. Finally I just tied him up in a wrap and he fell asleep on my chest.

I could be wrong, but I think his teeth are bugging him. He's drooly, although I guess that's pretty normal for this age. His cheeks are also red and he's just so incredibly fussy. He is a fussy kid to begin with but recently he had started to get much calmer. Then in the past four or five days he's been really irritable again. On the weekend I sent D out to get him a teething pacifier. We'd never given him a pacifier before - not sure why, I guess I just wasn't sure what to use it for. He didn't seem to have an insatiable need to suck other than when he was hungry. But since he's got his hands in his mouth all the time and I thought a bumpy teether might be a really nice relief for him. However, we missed the boat on that one because other than his hands or moi, his tongue just ejects everything that goes in his mouth now. (Unfortunately it ejects the bottle too, after taking it quite peacefully several times. But then I didn't give it to him for a week and he somehow forgot. We've tried about ninety different things to get him on it again but I have now given up. It's too distressing to spend all that time pumping just to have to throw it away.)

As for childcare, thanks for the advice on the dilemma. What I've decided to do is to see if I can get the same person to come two nights in a row. Kids are welcome at dinner the first night, but since LM generally gets very fatigued around 7, perhaps it would be best to keep him out of the spotlight. That night dinner is at the hotel and it is a casual buffet, so I can just hover around the hotel room as much as I want, waiting until LM falls asleep before I leave, and "popping in" a couple of times throughout the night. Assuming things go well, I'll leave him the second night (when we'll be off-site, so it's harder for me to return), but if I get any weird feelings I'll just pull the paranoid mama card. I do find it aggravating that they assumed we were okay with sitters. But before I had a kid I thought women who weren't with them were over-protective, so I guess I shouldn't be too self-righteous about it.

Anyhoo, LM is adorably snoring away in his car seat because he hasn't woken up from our Christmas-light viewing drive yet, the Christmas tree is crusty and dry and losing needles everywhere (we cheaped out this year), and D is serving up leftovers. So much to be thankful for.

Tired Blather

Man - funny how a busy week is now busy not because of papers due or memos pending. Now my day can be made or broken depending on whether one little person has sinus congestion or not. Funnier still, I don't mind.

I will say one thing that has been tough lately is the length of D's hours. He is normally gone, for 12 hours a day. He leaves before 7 and is back a little after 7. That means morning to night, baby care is my job. I get him up in the morning and put him down at night. I deal with every scream in between (of which there are a great many). But I get all the smiles in between too. Usually D is home in time for bath and bedtime routine, but the very last part of the day is me because LM is still nursing to sleep.

I don't know what the point of that paragraph is. I should probably make one
but I'm too tired right now: LM was up at 6 this morning with congestion and he's still up at least twice a night. I guess the point of this post is that I'm happy, but tired, and occasionally a little sad that D isn't around more - but we're working on that.

Fickle Feline

People tell you lots of things before you have kids that you don't believe. One of them was that I'd start to feel differently toward my cat. Now D and I are bit nutty about our cats. Before the other one died, I syringe-fed her for weeks because I didn't want to put her down. Even before that, I've spent a fortune on vet bills, including ultrasounds and feline antidepressants! We said hello to the cats before we said hello to each other. I have her on special food that requires a trip to the vet to purchase. And I've turned down apartments, roommates and dates because of their incompatibility with felines.

So why does everything she does now make me completely mental? She craves attention but when she gets on my lap all I can think about is the cat hair. I have turned over litter-cleaning duties to D permanently because I just can't deal with it. All her irritating habits - the occasional puke, her incessant meowing before mealtimes, the fact that no food can be left on the counter for more than three minutes without her attempting to consume it - all seem a thousand times more irritating.

She's been banished from the bedroom since LM was born and D is now pushing for her re-entry. But although I used to let her snuggle next to my head, now I'm thinking she should be out of the bedroom permanently, even once LM is no longer in with us. I told D that and he looked shocked and surprised.

Don't get me wrong - somewhere deep inside, I still harbour affection for the little rascal - at least enough to feel guilty about my change of heart. But she has moved from queen of the roost to distant third.

Born or Made?

I was having a discussion with some people recently about parenthood and it really surprised me how many people felt that women, i.e. mothers, have some innate difference (they argued advantage) in terms of meeting their baby's needs. I, having been brought up by a classic liberal feminist, protested. It's true, I am the primary caregiver, but this, I argued, is for two reasons only, one economic and one physiological.

I'm home during the day because I happen to make less money right now, and it made more sense for me to take advantage of our country's relatively generous parental leave (which is obviously not as generous as D's salary!) Secondly, because we're breastfeeding, I am kind of glued to him in these early days. But, I argued, if it were Dad at home, he'd do the exact same thing as I do. Other than those two factors, mothers are no different than fathers.

But two things kind of made me rethink this a little. First, someone asked a hypothetical question about how if there was a fire, would you first help your baby or your spouse. My immediate response is BABY! Not because I love the baby more, but because he's my child and I just feel this overwhelming responsibility for him. I don't think the answer would change if he was 26 instead of six weeks. I assumed D would feel the same way, but when I asked him his immediate response was "You, hon!"

Then last night, as I was up late pumping in an effort to have enough of a stash of milk to, I don't know, get a haircut or go out to eat, I was sitting in the living room in the dark with my two guys down the hall in the bedroom. I heard the baby moan in the room, but being hooked up to the machine, I assumed D would deal with it. He didn't. The murmurs eventually grew to full-blown screaming, but D slept through it all until I went in and said, "Don't you hear him yelling his head off?"

So anyway, I'm wondering, is there more of a difference between mothers and fathers than just breasts and a few social conventions? Is there something underlying innate difference that goes beyond that? Are mothers (for the most part, there are always exceptions) just better suited to certain parts of the job and fathers to others?

It seems like motherhood has meant something very different (not better! just different) for me than fatherhood has meant for D. We are totally falling into this hunter-gatherer dyad, and D's role is all about providing and playing and mine is about nesting and feeding the family. Is it just economics that's forced us that way, or is it something more? Or am I just starting to feel like there's this innate "mother-ness" because motherhood is pretty much all I've got going on right now is baby, whereas D has this whole work life where he doesn't have to be Dad 100% of the time. It's just, I'm starting to think that even if I were working full-time, there would be something fundamentally different in our roles.

For some people these might seem so obvious - like, duh! Mums and dads are different. That was the way the discussion I had went. But I have to say, as someone who's always thought that gender differences were more nurture than nature, this is all a bit of a revelation.

Battle of Wills

Thanks so much for your positive comments. I think I was being a bit paranoid about them all gossiping about me. I'm a little over-sensitive after hearing two months worth of second-hand scary birth stories when we were open about doing a home birth.

Yesterday the same family member who passed on the frame advice told me for the 99th time that I wasn't dressing the baby warmly enough and that she was "terrified he was going to catch pneumonia." I had already made efforts to deal with her fears by putting a blanket over him when I carry him, even though I really don't think he's too cold at all. So on being told this again I semi-lost it and instead of nodding and then stewing about it later, I raised my voice and said "He is NOT going to catch pneumonia. You don't catch pneumonia from being cold!" Did I mention we were in a heated parking garage and headed up to a grocery store above via elevator?

Then the family member refused to buy anything at the grocery store because it was too expensive. She was only buying a breast of chicken and some greens, so while the shop was more expensive than the corner grocer, I figured the extra $2.50 was probably worth it to avoid a long detour and an extra stop, since I had to pick up something at the fancy store anyway. Apparently not. We dropped her off elsewhere to finish her shopping and dinner was then an hour late, which meant LM was yelling and overtired throughout. (We weren't at home, so couldn't put him down.) Passive-aggressive anyone?

Anyway I've been really really really good and tried not to complain or vent about D's family to him because I have a tendency to do that way too much, and to draw comparisons with my own family, which is pretty unfair since my own family drives me nuts too when I have to spend extended periods of time with them. But I did break my promise to myself about that and I vented a wee bit and we were able to laugh about it so it just seems hilarious and ridiculous instead of utterly upsetting.

And she does have many redeeming qualities - she is ultimately good-hearted. It's just hard to see them sometimes cause I'm too busy seeing red.

In good news, LM slept a whole 4 hours straight last night, which meant I did too! It was lovely. 11 p.m., 3 a.m., 6 a.m. and 9 a.m. Now that's a routine I can totally handle. I'm sure he'll growth spurt again around 6 weeks, but I feel so incredibly refreshed.

Some Positive Reinforcement Please?

When I was five or six years old, I was at a birthday party where I drew a picture of a clown for my mother and father. The clown was juggling three balls which flew around his head and I was exceedingly proud of it. I proudly showed it to the birthday girl who promptly ridiculed those balls and my clown and made me realise it was just a bad crayon drawing and in no way worthy of a spot on the fridge. Somehow my parents got the picture anyway and put it on the door to my dad's study, where it stayed for many months. Every time I passed it, I still felt like it was inadequate though - my initial pride in it never quite recovered from that pint-sized art critic's commentary.

Anyway, don't you just hate when something you show off proudly gets criticised? And you know that people you care about have been sitting around talking about what's wrong with it. I am aware that I am blowing this 1000x out of proportion, but it's been on my mind.

In the days before my LM's birth, I picked out beautiful black and white drawings for his wall. Then I made a special trip to the ninth circle of hell, also known as that ubiquitous Swedish design store to buy frames for them. I spent 45 minutes lining the pictures up exactly with a level and a tape measure - no easy feat when you are wedged between a crib and a wall with a watermelon-sized belly. I placed them high enough that they'd be out of reach of even a standing baby, but low enough that he'd be able to appreciate them.

Yesterday a family member pointedly mentioned that another family member had been to a safety conference on earthquake safety, and they had been talking about how it's really quite dangerous to have anything hanging above a crib. Basically, my lovingly placed photos could maim my child if the earth starts to move. "Something to consider..." she added nodding towards the room.

It really bothers me that the couple who attended the earthquake conference feels obliged to pass on this safety tidbit in such a roundabout way. It's one thing to say it upfront, and another to discuss it in private with another and get her to convey the message. It just bugs me to know they were all sitting around criticising my beautiful mini-nursery.

I am a pretty risk averse mama. I am so paranoid of SIDs that my baby sleeps on the hardest surface around. I bought one of those all-natural crib mattresses (although admittedly he has not yet slept in his crib). His bottle is glass so it's free of Bisphenol-A just in case all the fears about cancer are true. My newest baby carrier is one that's supposed to support the baby's back optimally for development. I never place my bouncy chair on an elevated surface and when he's in it, I move everything off adjacent tables or counters so they don't fall on him accidentally. Even his Vitamin-D drops are specifically all natural. I say all this not to demonstrate that I am some kind of superior mother, just to show that I put a lot of pressure on myself. And sometimes I just wish that instead of being reminded of the one thing I did wrong, someone would acknowledge that I'm trying really, really hard to do my best.

Besides, if the walls in this apartment move enough to shakes those pictures off the wall (they are like, ANCHORED on there), a few IKEA frames falling on him will be the least of our worries.

Today I Am Thankful For

First and foremost, my healthy and beautiful son. Motherhood is the hardest and the easiest thing ever. So much of it is so basic, so filled with unconditional love that it's easy to do; the hard part is hoping and wishing and trying your best at some of the mysterious parts - the unexplained cries, the 4 a.m. freak-outs. Adventures with Little Man make we want 10 children, but if this is the only chance fate grants me, I know I am exceedingly blessed.

My partner, D, without whom I would be only half of a whole; parenthood is one challenge it is fun to face together, and as with so many other parts of our relationship, I think we have some complementary skills. And we have lots of faith in each other, despite mutual moments of self-doubt and an undoubted diminishment of 'us' time.

My wacky and wonderful family who have showered us with support and love.

The beautiful city and country that I live in where I have security and resources that most of the world does not.

How to Deal

Argh - sometimes I really hate people. Most recently, them telling D stories of emergency cesaerean births and umbilical cords wrapped around baby's necks and generally trying to be really discouraging of the possibility of home birth. I wish they would just butt out.

Let me be clear, we are not dogmatic. We will go to the hospital if it is necessary. All the research I've done shows that home birth is as safe provided adequate measures are taken. I'm not just picking sources that are biased in favour of more natural options, but am going to medical journals and other ostensibly objective sources. Before I started my research I wasn't fixated on this issue - I think I went in to this project relatively unbiased. We will have intermitten heart-rate monitoring and take other measures to ensure the safety of our baby.

I admit I am often feeling hurt by these particular relations - I feel they marginalise me and make very little effort to hang out with me. And making statements like that to D makes me feel like they don't respect our choices, and are trying to lobby him. I resent being treated like the crazy wife. Anyway I wish they would stop their fear-mongering - I find it really passive-aggressive. At least say it with me there so I can say my piece.

Childcare and so on

I'm calling it a him now - I've been convinced for much of this pregnancy that we are having a girl, as I just felt very female vibes. D has been equally convinced of its maleness. But recently I have started to feel a very male vibe from it, and D has started referring to us (er... me) as "his girls." Anyway, we shall see. I have resisted buying any pink until now, but now that it's a boy (er, that I think it's a boy) I want to buy some pink to be truly egalitarian.

I've had friends ask me what we plan to do for childcare. The answer is - we have no idea. It is over a year away after all. But we do need to get on waitlists as daycare availability is abysmal here - waitlists are routinely a year or longer and people often register for waitlists right after conception!

All the lawyers I know have nannies - they say the hours are just too unpredictable for daycare. A couple of people have recommended that live-in help would be the way to go. When a partner at my firm suggested it, I almost said - you do remember what you pay me right? We live in a tiny apartment and are making a den into a nursery. We live in a town where half a million won't buy you a house within the city limits. Would the nanny live in our linen closet?

D and I combined make a great income that puts us statistically well above average. But my first year law salary, while completely respectable, is actually 50% less than I was making three years ago. After taxes, it would cover a nanny or a bigger place, but not both. If we do go the nanny route for my first year of work, we'll likely have less disposable income than when I'm on maternity leave. At least on mat leave I'll get EI and the EI will be more than the difference between what I'll make first year and what a nanny costs. I am excited about the career path I've chosen and all, but part of my desire to work does involve making some money at it.

It's all pretty sobering and makes you realise why women are so limited in non-conventional career choices. Anything where there may be extra or unpredictable hours involve a lot of expensive childcare options. While I know D will do his share, he works long hours as well. I hope we can both work something out so that we are both able to be more flexible and I'm really lucky to have a guy who's very dedicated to being 50/50. But I know that usually the one who ends up cutting back on hours and pay is the mother - and I can understand why that happens. He already makes so much more than I don't see myself catching up for at least 5 years. It's the reason we aren't splitting the parental leave 50/50 this time - we couldn't survive on what I'd make.

If I find it this hard, in one of the high-paying firms in a very lucrative profession, just imagine how hard it is for most women.

Bow Ties and Baby Clothes

The last week has been hellishly busy. I celebrated over the weekend by doing a fat lot of nothing. I'm not sure why it has to be a fat lot, and not just a lot, but it does.

I discovered a delicious dim sum place - somehow those sweet, savoury, slippery little treats hit the spot in a way that's just right these days. It's cart upon cart of mysterious and complex little dishes - all of them tasting ten times better than they look - mmmm. I may have to go again this weekend. And of course for future reference, dim sum restaurants are a perfect place to bring babies as there are dozens of them around and every bow-tied waiter stops to fawn.

Then I bought my first maternity pants, though truthfully I am not showing at all. But they were $27 and I love an excuse to shop. The only thing that has really changed is that I am more bloated than usual after eating and I can't suck my stomach in line with my ribs the way I used to be able to.

I did finally tell my mother, who was suitably pleased. She's very excited to go to Holt Renfrew and buy designer outfits... I remember walking in there with her once and exclaiming "WHO would spent $50 on baby clothes?"
"I would..." she replied in a small voice. My mother, who has spent 40 years in a very selfless, service-oriented career, loves Holt Renfrew. So who I am to judge?

Umm...

That's a line right?

Is it wrong that my first response was "Oh my god - what have I done?"

The end of the holidays

Today is the first day of classes. Not for me though, my slacker schedule has me free on Mondays, which is kind of nice. It delays reality a little longer. We had a wonderful, if exhausting, seven days in the Caribbean over Christmas. My immediate family was also there. We saw lots of critters, including two gorgeous dolphins playing in the waves, and a very large crocodile. We stayed at a really nice little hotel; it was sort of a rustic deluxe thing - no air conditioning, no fancy pool, no enormous white sand beach, but just a bunch of brightly coloured cottages with decks that looked right over the ocean.

I had the usual spats with my brothers and mother; something about them does bring out a very anal side of me. My mother called it "holier-than-thou." But D, who never hesitates to call me on it when I'm being a tad unreasonable, did side with me at most times (although never speaks up then!); he's sort of a sanity barometre. My family loves to complain about everything - the food, the service, the rooms. And while I'm not averse to a little gripe session myself, as this blog, even this paragraph, no doubt affirms, I like to turn off my critical side when I'm IN PARADISE! All they want to do is sit around the cottage and listen to music, or read alone at the bar. And oh lord, they drink - they really pack it away. Oops, there's my holier-than-thou side coming through. I will stop.

Last weekend D's job had a retreat; spouses were generously permitted to tag along and enjoy the very nice accommodation and tasty meals. D works with a lot of young folks and I think that must be a lot of fun. It's quite a different atmosphere from the staid law firm world where the median age is over 40. I don't think anyone at D's firm, partners included, has even hit 40 yet.

Yes, the party scene was a little different at the retreat than what I've seen so far in my profession. The partners showed up at a basement dance club and were grooving with the best of them. Can't say I've seen that (nor would I necessarily want to) where I work. But then a lot of people who enter the legal profession have similar personality traits; we all have a dose of Type-A-ness. It's a well-paying job and many of us, if we are honest, have entered the professional at least partly because of that, yet we're not the type of people who have the sort of creativity and tolerance for risk that you find in entrepreneurs. All of this doesn't necessarily add up to a crew who likes to hit the trendy spots or the up-and-coming after-hours. Now that I think about it, law parties are a lot like civil servant parties. Hmm - something to ponder on in the future - whether or not choosing a job based on the party scene is a good or bad life strategy. I can see some good arguments for doing so, but it's certainly not the path I've taken!

I've been battling a cold - it hasn't hit yet, but I've got the sneezes and a general grogginess, tummy ache, headache. I got my flu shot, so I hope it preserves me from anything truly awful. Part of me wonders if perhaps we made a little Jamaica Mistaica when we were on holiday and if that's what's making me feel so strange. It would be absolutely terrible timing work-wise, money-wise etc. But I'm sure a little part of me will be sad if my suspicion is wrong. Plus, it gives me an excuse to surf the net for two- and three-bedroom homes for sale, which is always fun.