we did it...

mostly.


We have moved. We are still alive to tell about it.

More later, including "The Key to Better Living" and "The Forearm Forklift."

Good times.

Requiem for a Prairie Town

or "Please keep sleeping long enough for me to write a blog post"


We live in a dying town (or will for a few more days, anyway).

Baby* and I went for a walk on mothers' day afternoon. We went down a quiet lane past a yard with a quaint old wooden fence and some ancient lilac and rose bushes. It seemed like a glimpse of a different time in this old town. As we neared the end of the lane I could hear some boys. As we rounded the corner I was surprised to see them on bikes. I honestly expected them to be rolling a hoop down the road with a stick. Really.

Our little town (yes, little. as in around 400 people) was founded in the late 1800s. It prospered in the early 1900s. I'm sure the 20s roared here as much as they did anywhere else. But it is now dying. And we aren't helping. We too are leaving for a place with more. More people, more conveniences. More paved roads.

The school here is kindergarten to grade six and has about 75 students. I have the feeling that when the school closes (notice I say "when" and not "if") that will be the last straw for this little town.

We will miss some things about it. Like our house. And the lady across the street. But there are so, oh so many things we won't miss at all...

-gravel streets
-the ridiculous price of milk
-driving to "Town" to go grocery shopping (due to the ridiculous price of milk...)
-revving engines of all sorts...dirt bikes, four-wheelers, snowmobiles
-the tiny neighbour kids driving the riding lawnmower. occasionally with a baby on their knee.
-neighbour shooting a pellet gun at ? birds? squirrels? small children?


So, the town keeps dying. But we won't be around to see it.




two more sleeps till we move.


*I have been thinking that Baby and Husband need better blog-names. Perhaps after we move I'll give it some thought.


ps. Baby is sleeping poorly again. We're just not sure what to do.

i like hats

I promised more on our trip to Victoria, so I thought I should get on that before it seems like ancient history. I won't bore you with a play-by-play of our whole trip. Here are some highlights...

Husband had an excellent time at his conference. Learned lots and did some "networking".

Baby and I wandered around downtown Victoria and hung out at the hotel.

I didn't have to cook for four days!

I bought a hat. This may not sound like a highlight, but it is. I have always thought that I was a hat person, but never had the guts to wear a lot of hats. But I decided when Husband told me that I was to buy myself something in Victoria, that it would be a hat. We went to a wee hat shop on Government Street called Roberta's Hats. The clerks were wonderful and helped me choose a hat that suited me and encouraged me to start wearing it right away. Yay. I'm afraid we have started a bit of a habit. I will be buying more hats soon... (wow, I'm lame. but please, if you are in Victoria, go to Roberta's Hats.)


Posting my be sparse for awhile (it has been lately already...) Moving will be taking place next weekend. Wish us luck.

xo

Wee Wee Wee Wee All the Way Home

We're back. We had a great trip. I'll tell you all about it sometime. Right now, however, I would like to describe the trip home. Trip out there, perfect. Time there, wonderful.

Trip Home? Worst. Trip. Ever.

Let's start at the beginning, leaving the hotel. The airport shuttle arrives and we have a big kafuffle about the price. [Okay, I just asked husband how to spell kafuffle, and he said "It's kerfluffle. So we looked it up in the dictionary. It turns out "kafuffle" is a Canadian variant of "kerfuffle". Bet you didn't know that...] We debate with the driver for a couple of minutes, then he keeps debating while we all (Husband and I plus some other people from his conference) are thinking, "Okay, we'll pay whatever you want if you'll just get this bus on the road and to the airport on time."

The flight from Victoria to Vancouver was fine, Baby flirting with the Stewardess all the way (by the way, I would like to be a stewardess just to get to wear the fab uniforms. Seriously. Also, if you ever get the chance you should read the book "Jane, Stewardess of the Airlines")

So, we get to Vancouver and after walking for about eight years to find our terminal, we find out that our flight will be delayed. By two hours. So we go get something to eat, and come back. We finally board and discover that Husband and I aren't seated together (we hadn't even bothered to look at our seat numbers, we just assumed). The Stewardess fixes things so that we are across the aisle from each other. Of course, we boarded first, so we have to sit there forEVER while everyone else boards. In an aisle seat. With a baby. A baby who has been traveling all day and is now many many hours over due for a sleep. And everyone thinks they can help by making faces at him and clapping in his face. (PLEASE NOTE: Baby was an exceptional traveler, and this was the only time he had any trouble. And I don't blame him.) Then we wait about an hour on the plane while a new Pilot and crew arrive (the other crew being over time and not legal to work.) So lets count that up, yup, THREE hours delayed.

The only good thing about the trip was that I got to watch the end of the movie I didn't finish watching on the way there.

So, flying home, we had turbulence almost the whole way, with VERY bad turbulence when we were close to landing. (I'm sure it wasn't actually VERY bad, but it seemed bad to me, and we stupidly watched a few minutes of a movie about a plane crash the night before.)

Then to top things off, the girl sitting beside Husband was air sick. But, to give her credit, she was the quietest puker ever.

So, we arrived in Winnipeg at THREE AM. We got our luggage by 3:30 and were in bed at my Brother's house (BEST BROTHER EVER - waited at the airport until 3!) by 4 o'clock.


Hmm. That probably doesn't even sound as bad as it felt at the time, but there you go.



In other news, it was 27 degrees here today, and it is supposed to be 31 tomorrow. Let me just say this - - I'm glad I'm not pregnant.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

and pretty sure we'll be back on the weekend.

That's right. We're taking a little trip. Husband, baby and I are flying to Victoria for a couple of days on Wednesday. Husband will be attending the National *Husband's Occupation* Conference and Baby and I will just chill out. We will find out what it is like to fly with a baby. At least we'll get to board the plane first...

We've actually just returned from a crazy fun weekend with Husband's family. His whole immediate family were at his parents' place this weekend to celebrate his Mum's birthday. Including the sister and bro-in-law who live in Vancouver. Husband's dad flew them out with his air miles as a birthday surprise. Fun. It is rare for the whole family to be on the same continent, let alone in the same house. We had a good weekend playing, wiener-roasting, leading worship at church and eating, eating, eating.


Thanks to those of you who gave suggestions/support re: Baby's sleep issues. I promised an update, so here it is...

The next night he was almost back to his previous good sleeping pattern, but over the weekend it got bad again. My current theory is relating to Separation Anxiety. He just seems to need to be close to us (that is, he is not waking up hungry). Today, though, he had two 1 3/4 hour naps (totally unheard of for him) so maybe he will have a great night tonight. (oops, shouldn't have said that. now for sure he won't sleep...)

****

Sorry, this has been the lamest post ever, but it was interrupted by a crying baby (surprise surprise) and a phone call with my parents. I'll let you know how our trip goes when we get back.

Sleepless in, well, Not Seattle

"Sleep is for Chumps" seems to be Baby's life motto.

It used to be that just napping was for chumps. But now it includes all forms of sleep. Let me describe for you the events of last evening.

7:30 pm - Begin bed time ritual for sleepy Baby.

8:00 pm - Baby is asleep in his crib. I know it is too good to be true, so I count on him waking up in an hour or so to nurse a bit longer. No problem.

8:45 pm - Baby wakes up, causing Husband to tape the last fifteen minutes of House so I can watch it when Baby is asleep again.

9:00 pm - Baby is asleep. Phew. Lets go watch the last 15 minutes of House.

9:less than fifteen (I know, because we are NOT done watching House yet) pm - Baby wakes up again. We finish watching House anyway, because, really.

The next couple of hours are a bit hazy. I know they included some walking, rocking, singing, lullabies on CD in Baby's room, and some crying.

11:30 pm - Okay, after some MORE nursing, Baby is FINALLY asleep. Lets got to bed and get some ourselves. He'll for sure sleep till at least five o'clock now...

12:30 am - CRAP. Husband collects blanket and pillow to go sleep in the spare bedroom so he won't be totally useless at work. I bring Baby into bed with me. Nurse him again. And again at 4:00 am. And he flops around a bit at 6:00 am.

7:00 am - Baby wakes with the completely cheerful expression of someone who has had a full night's sleep. I, however, do not.

Help, anyone??

You're Beautiful, Baby

Catherine, over at Everyday Life as Lyric Poetry, has started a bit of a discussion on Postpartum body image. So I thought I would contribute what I can.

I was always the skinny girl. Not slim or petite. Skinny. Now, you may not realize this, but the skinny girls get their share of flak when it comes to body type. "You're so skinny - it makes me sick" and "I hate you, you're soooo skinny" aren't exactly compliments. Yup. I was skinny. and flat chested. I rejoiced the day I finally hit 100 pounds.

So, when I got pregnant I was excited to finally gain some weight. This didn't happen at first, due to my lovely friend NVP (aka Morning sickness. aka 24/7 sickness). But, eventually I stopped losing weight and started gaining. I was thrilled to see some shape in my arms and legs. I outgrew my bra. I lovingly watched (and photographed) my growing belly. I felt, well, like a woman.

Now, six months postpartum, much of my new found "womanly" shape has remained. My Husband loves it, and doesn't fail to tell me so. I feel good in my new body. Granted, I had no trouble losing most of my pregnancy weight. If that had been an issue perhaps I would feel differently.

The problem is, I think, the two standards of beauty that exist side by side in our culture. On the one hand the tall, slim-yet-voluptuous magazine beauty (the standard that we as women tend to hold ourselves to) and on the other, real-life real-body beauty (the standard by which we measure the beauty of our friends etc.). A lot of the women that I think are very beautiful tend to be more on the shapely side of things. Most men like some curves. We don't expect anyone else to look like they stepped out of a magazine, so why do we expect it of ourselves?

So, what can we do about it? This, I don't know. But we can start by telling the women in our lives how beautiful they are to us.

ps. Check out Bub and Pie's post about mirrors for more on Body Image