Aftermath

I am on a TLC mini-marathon right now, just finished "17 and Counting" and am now moving on to "Jon and Kate Plus 8".
8 children is a lot. 17 kids is just plain silly, but my mind is just boggled by the fact that the mum is pregnant with number 18. I am not sure that I would want my lady bits repeatedly stretched out for, like, 20 years. Actually I am sure that I wouldn't. Ever.

I am currently considering baby number 2. Not for now, just planning for the future as I like to do. I am looking around 2010 or 2011 or so. I've already picked names (Mike just shakes his head every time I bring the subject up).

I am pretty sure 2 is my limit, kid wise... so watching these shows, especially the one with the 17 children, I have such a hard time imagining when Mum gets to sit down. As I barely sit down now with 1, then 17? I can't imagine.

V is currently recovering from a nasty cold. His first, I might add. And my first experience with kid-cold. V thoughtfully shared his cold with both M and I (such a good boy, sharing already!), and we were brutalized by it. I swear it knocked us both down worse than anything else. Not that I got to sit down when I got knocked down either. It basicially was a "go to bed at 8 pm thing"

Also my first proper experience with a nasal aspirator, oh and also with copious amounts of mucus. Hurray! Plus, of course, some projectile vomiting on top of all of that. So really, it was such a pleasant week.

M and I were so worn out by Wednesday that we embarked on my favorite thing ever, needless bickering brought on by exhaustion! Awesome!

And are still worn out today. Hopefully we will be on the full road to recovery tomorrow...

Friday night tea party

Its friday night, and my glass of wine and I are watching some crappy movie on telly. As per usual.

And as per usual, I am enjoying the movie.

And it IS crappy. The Mummy Returns. Why?! He didn't need to come back. It doesn't get any better the second time. Brendan Fraser's hair just gets a little thinner and more hair-plugish looking. Remember when he was in Encino Man and everyone thought he was so hot (or maybe that was just me........). Ahhhh, the 90's........ awesome....

Things I remember from the 90's..... (a la Facebook's 25 things list)

• I made my own bellbottoms using material from my Mum's scrap bin
• I tried to learn Danish, but all I remember is "I have to pee"
• Bell Biv Devo was awesome
• I used to drink that sweet pink wine (I think it was called Mateus?) Paint varnish!!
• I ordered a pig heart from the deli I worked at to use in a Halloween Horror house I helped with
• I moved in with Talia, best room-mate ever!! (except of the parts when she didn't clean.....)
• I listened to a lot of Peter Tosh and Bob Marley
• Mum hid my Peter Tosh cd behind the cd case as it had pictures of pot plants on it and she didn't want Granny to see (or thats what she said anyways)
• I had (at different times) purple, fushia and jet black hair
• Some lady in a hair salon pierced my belly button with an ear-piercing gun and charged me $40
• I watched The Shining for the first time, and then had to walk home from the theatre in the dark, alone, down an un-lit street.... creepy...
• I met some guy who's name was actually 'Coyne' and he grew a lot of weed, and had dreadlocks. And I met him in the ferry line-up.
  
• I tried to dreadlock part of my hair, but it just looked like a hairball, and so I cut it off...
• I learned how to fillet a whole fish.
• I also learned how to completely debone a chicken
• I actually made a booty-call
• Popular colours for living room decor were dark green and burgundy (I know, as I made my own cushions)
• Star Trek was really popular
• So was Pearl Jam
• I met one of my best friends then, and she still is....

I am sure that there are other wonderful things about the 90's that I can't remember right now. Perhaps you can? Feel free to post coments re: the 90's to this post

And Happy February!!!

*heart*

As I comfortably sit on my living-room floor and watch The Wire with M, I feel so grateful to be a healthy person.

I recently had a little health scare involving my heart, which was pretty overwhelming emotionally speaking. I am the type of person who has an extremely over-active imagination, so I tend towards the dramatics where my health is concerned. And also towards the negative..... but maybe that's everyone.

So a few years back when I was having some minor issues with my skin, I worked myself up to the point where I was pretty much convinced it was skin cancer. Which it turned out to not be....

When my tooth started to hurt a few months ago, I immediately thought it was serious cavities, like serious.... probably because I hadn't been to the dentist in forever. And then the pain went away, and hasn't returned.

So when I started having these issues with my heart, I immediately thought the worst.

Congestive heart failure, strokes, heart attacks, thrombosis (brought on by excessive Wed MD-ing). I am a chronic self-diagnosiser (which is not a word). I have a hard time refraining myself from googling health related things and then 'surprise!' finding that I have the same symptoms. Its chronic.

Anyways, I ended up in the ER. And thats all that I am going to say about that.

And then, through my doctor, ended up at a Cardiologist. Which was where I was today, finishing up a series of tests, checking out my heart, making sure things are ok.

Which they are.

Which is a huge deep sigh of relief for me (and M as well). Which means that I will make it to V's first birthday (yes, that is where my over-active mind took me).

Picking up my sweet little boy early from daycare, and holding him close with his little plump hands trailing over my face and neck I felt so blessed. And so in love. And so blessed again that my heart is strong and can handle this huge amount of love that I feel for my perfect little man.

And then blessed for the third time that despite my hyper-active imagination, my anxiety, my chronic stress issues, my inability to ask for any help at all with anything and problems with sitting down and actually relaxing, I have managed to survive 8 months of motherhood and the 3 of us are still alive.

And M and I sit love each other. A lot.

And so, I have turned over a new health-related leaf. Vitamins, huge amounts of water, low sodium, no caffeine at all, no chocolate (if I can help it), as little processed sugar as I can help it.

As I am already seeing the positive benefits of all of these changes, I just feel more motivated to continue. And everytime I see darling V, my drive and determination increases. So again, I feel grateful to be a healthy person. Grateful for M and V and for The Wire.......

Early morning fun...

Sunday night.... I wish it was still Friday night, the longest possible time before more work. Wee V has a cold and I did not have a good Saturday night.

I think he woke up at 3:45 and just wouldn't go back to sleep, poor darling. M has V's cold too and was working late, so I opted for some cuddling on the sofa with V, in the hopes that he'd go back to sleep, which would in turn allow for some sleep time for M.

Which he did.

However, I never sleep well when I cuddle with him. I am hyper-aware of everything and so just doze lightly. He, on the other hand, slept like a log. And to be honest, I enjoyed every second of his little cosy warm body next to mine. He woke again at 5 am and I could hear his tummy gurgling, so I knew he was hungry. I made him a bottle, which he chugged back like M used to slam beers at Amigos (back in the day). I lifted him up to my shoulder for a burp, which he politely did. It really was the politest of burps. So very little and almost dainty! I was surprised!

However, that surprize quickly turned to horror with what followed......

And what followed was a huge burp-slash-projectile vomit all over my face and down my neck, completely soaking my pj's and dripping onto my feet. I just stood there in complete shock.

I mean, it was 5 am, M was asleep and so was the dog (thank god! As had he been awake he would have been all over that vomit, probably rolling in it and licking it up. Really, he is discusting!). And V was grinning, as clearly he was feeling better.....

I know everyone's favorite topic is vomit, and lets be honest, I have tons of stories. I am sure you are all so excited to read about my lovely morning experience.

We got cleaned up and hit the sofa again. He got some sleep, and I didn't.

And so today, I am really tired.

But thats ok. Its my job. And a job I love..... A job that seems to involve more and more vomit with each day that passes.

Stay tuned for further exciting adventures of Mummy and V!

Part 2

We took V to the park today, which was so much fun. Plunking his little tush in those safety swings and letting him sway back and forth was pretty much the most fun that I have had all week. He loved it, as he loves everything to do with being outside. Florida in the winter is the best time of year. Even on a day that is forecasted as being very cold, its still nowhere near what proper cold is. Speaking from a Canadian point of view, that is.....

So pretty much it's just light jacket weather (West Coast light jacket weather).

So my little peanut is allergic to peanuts..... Possibly induced by me eating a lot (and I mean a lot) of peanut m&m's while I was breastfeeding. Although, it might not be my fault... But I also ate a fair amount of toast and apparently he has a sensitivity to wheat. Whether that is my fault too, I don't know. I only breastfed him for about 7 weeks (as mat leave in the States is down right awful and I had to go back to work when he was about 10 weeks old). Apparently you can make your children more suceptible to certain allergies if you eat an excessive amount of such things while you are breastfeeding. Things like peanuts and eggs, and apparently wheat... *sigh*

Who knew that 7 weeks could have such a huge effect? Expecially considering I wasn't exclusively breastfeeding him.... My poor boo. Although he is perfectly healthy.... with the exception of the eczema, which we are still in the process of solving. And changing formulas again and possibly starting some allergy medication. And hoping and crossing our fingers that this will solve it and we won't have to take the next step and move on to specialists...

However, it is just enough that he is a gorgeous, good-natured, giggley, adorable little boy that M and I totally adore. And really, that is enough and we are blessed....

Part 1

I had so many good ideas for writing this week but, come Friday, they all seem to disappear. I am left with faint shadows of things I planned to write about, the haziest of memories... like a Polaroid picture half way through developing.

Now probably this is all brought on by a lovely combination of lack of sleep-slash my now total lack of all things caffeinated-slash Life with a capital 'L'.

I think about caffeine a lot. I think I might miss it. But, I think it was best that we part as we did. Caffeine plus anxiety plus lack of sleep is not a good combination.

The only thing that is really sticking clearly in my head is this guy in the waiting-room of the doctor's office where I work. He clearly was a Florida guy, if you know what I mean. And if you don't, then I will elaborate by saying 'redneck'. Or maybe 'Florida cracker' is a better term.... did you know that was even an expression? Well, it is! It's the same thing really.... just with a little bit more 'South' thrown in.....

Why does he stick in there? Well.......

Full on denim, and not the good kind. The kind that is extra BLUE blue. Dirty denim jeans and a dirty denim vest and no shirt. He was tall and lean, and might have even been wearing a denim hat as well. And old. He had a hairy naked belly spilling over his super blue denim jeans, and tons of curly white chest hair. And a few gold medallions mixed into that hair. And really greasy hair peeking out of the lovely denim cap he was wearing. AND he smelled like beer and cigarettes. And apparently this is how he came to his doctor's appointment.

I got a few good peeks at him, before I rounded a corner and ran into my girlfriend who gave me 'the look', which meant that she too had seen it. We both stifled giggles and ducked around a corner where we pantomimed him and his peacock-like attitude. So entertaining.

The other person that sticks in my mind from this week either falls into the category of 'cracker' or 'crazy'. Or maybe a combo of both...

She had the most beautiful sweater on. It had about 9 pictures of what clearly were her cats, with a caption that said "I *heart* cats". No kidding! You do?! She spoke to the girls at the front counter for about 15 minutes about pretty much nothing that made any sense at all. And then left.

The only other thing that really sticks out was what came in the mail yesterday. M returned from the post-box with a large package which he tossed in front of me with a grin. I opened it, and to my delight discovered my very own Giants Jersey! I had complained briefly to M about my lack of a jersey. Even V has his own and he's only been part of our family for 7 months! Geez!
Anyways, it arrived just after the Giants were knocked out of the playoffs....bummer.... but still.... my very own jersey....

Today's big deal was taking V back to the pediatrician to find out the results of his allergy testing.... results I will reveal in tomorrows post as I am so tired that I am off to bed!

Back

As I sit here on the couch watching this reeeeediculous movie (Practical Magic....god it's so awful), I wonder why I am not in bed.
It was M's first week back at work, and V's first week back at Ginette's. And oh was Ginette ever happy to see him back again. Its a mutual admiration society between the two of them, which is great as far as I am concerned. And she is just as concerned about his health as I am and pretty much dotes on him like he was her on grandson, which really puts my heart as ease.

Anyways, everyday this week seemed to have some sort of vomit related incident attached to it.

If it wasn't on him, then it was all over the crib, or the changing table. Or 'surprise!' all over me and him! And usually just as we were walking out the door. Kind of like I would put on my jacket, grab my purse, pick up V, walk towards the front door with the dog clamped firmly to my pant-leg, get covered in spit-up and turn around and backtrack every single step (with the dog still attached to my pant leg).

Again, just an aside, but man this movie is awful..... why am I still watching it I have no idea. I think I have an addiction to bad movies. The more poorly acted and written the better. In this particular case, I know I have even read the book, ages ago when I used to work in a used bookstore and read all sorts of really awful books all the time.

Today was also a vomit filled day. My duvet cover is currently being cleaned. That's what I get for not putting a bib on Mr V and letting him sit up and play on my bed. Silly me!!

Well, I am off to cart this tired body to bed as I have definitely had enough of this movie. Plus, lets face it, I always can use the sleep...

Poop

Today I got yelled at by my neighbour, who assumed incorrectly that I wasn't going to pick up after my dog. She yelled at me as I was passing her on my way to the dog-poop bag station at my apartment complex... "I hope you're picking up after you dog. Don't forget to get a bag.... ". It was a proper yell too....

Since this was my second encounter with her, and pretty much as rude as the first, I can't say I was that surprised by what she said. What I was surprised by was her interested in my dog's bowels. Her negative interest. Somehow, in my whole huge apartment complex, full of tons of people with dogs much larger than mine, my chihuahua has apparently become the 'Ed Bain' of her existence and is now completely to blame for every other owners failure to pick up poop. How this even happened I am at a loss to explain.....

The first time it happened I felt a bit bullied as she stalked towards me and thrust a poop-bag into my hands, all the while talking into her cell phone as her large dog lunged towards my teeny one. Apparently she didn't care at all what kind of impression she was making... I mean, sure I am guilty of the odd stealth poop (from my dog), but he's a chihuahua and, lets be honest here, sometimes its hard to find in the tall grass.

And its hard to pick up after your dog when you are carrying a 20 pound child in your arms. And who wants to pick up poop while you are carrying a baby anyways.... gross!

Clearly she has been poop stalking me though, as the second time I encountered her it was just more of the same nastiness and shouting. Why be so angry, I wonder.....

I think she just doesnt like me.

And why? No idea, since I have no idea who she is..... But since that first meeting, M and I have dubbed her the 'Poop Nazi' for her ridiculous interest in other people's pet's bowel movements.
And she has a big bum.

I apologize for that last part. So mean (true, but mean..).... but it is actually huge....

Anylargehineyways.....

Must be her crazy Americanness. People in Vancouver would certainly not be this uncouth, there would be extra-politeness for sure and friendly headnods as well. None of this angry glaring and beady little eyes following my dog's bum around as he scratches away in the grass.

Clearly this whole thing is bothering me, or I wouldn't be writing about it (and I just finished telling my sister about it). M says hes going to feed the dog extra and then take him over to the Poop Nazi's apartment area and let it loose. Frankly, I would just prefer to walk the dog elsewhere as confrontation makes me shake.... and say things I may regret.

For a woman so obsessed with feces, perhaps she put herself in the perfect place to overlook such lovely activities as her apartment windows face a lovely expanse of green grass with a poop-bag station planted firmly in the middle.

Anyways, after our grand meeting, and much replaying of it in my mind (equiped with my better responses and witty reparte) I decided that the best thing to do would simply be to be extra super friendly towards her! And whole "Morning Neighbour' approach! Lots of exclamation marks!!!!!!!!!! While it might not improve her impression of me as the 'leaver of the occasional doo', it might irritate her to the extent that she will leave it alone (or pick it up...hahahahha...), and not be such a sulky nasty moo-cow.

Having now got that all off my chest, I feel pleasantly relaxed and ready to go to bed.... memories of Poop Nazi drifting away in the night air.....