Happy Hogmanay!

Wishing you and yours a joyful and inspiring 2008.


God be here, God be there,
We wiss ye aa a canty year;
God without, God within.
Lat the Auld Year oot
An the New Year in.
-Traditional

Steeple Bells be Swungen...

Okay, a quick tree update. Turns out, Superstore trees are quite fine. It is fairly symmetrical and smells wonderful. So, no complaints here, it just lacked a little romance...

And now, because it's Christmas and because I am a sucker for good Christmas music, I present to you my TOP CHRISTMAS PICKS 2007. (please note: these are not necessarily my favourite Christmas songs, just a few that I think you should all try to listen to. 'Cause they're good.)


To help you with the whole "Spirit of Christmas" thing...
"In Praise of Christmas" as sung by Loreena McKennit on the album "To Drive the Cold Winter Away".

To be reminded of the beauty of the Nativity...
"Silent Night" as sung by Gene Autry and
"Silent Night" as performed by Over the Rhine on their first Christmas album "The Darkest Night of the year". (Note: there are two versions of Silent Night on this album. I mean the second one, "Silent Night (duet)".)

Both of these renditions will move you to tears, if you let them.

For your annual dose of Social Justice...
Forget "War is Over". Try Over The Rhine's new version of O little Town of Bethlehem, "Little Town" on the album "Snow Angels". You can hear it on the streaming radio ("Over the Rhine Record Player") on their website. Go listen. Really.

For Some Good Clean Christmas fun...
"Come on! Let's boogey to the Elf Dance!" from Sufjan Stevens' "Songs For Christmas vol. III, Ding! Dong!". Oh yeah.

There you go. Happy listening. (I am very sorry I could not find a good link for the Gene Autry one. Very sorry indeed.)

O Tannenbaum

We tried to buy our Christmas tree last night. It should have been an easy task. There is a place only a few blocks from our house that sells Christmas trees every year. They have lights strung up across their yard and often a fire going. The plan was to walk down there and bring a tree back in the sled. The only problem was, a few days ago we noticed that there were no trees in the yard. Okay, so they are out of trees, but surely they'll be getting more. After all, it is still two weeks to Christmas. Not so, apparently. We called to see when they would get more trees, and they told us they weren't. That's right, the Christmas tree place was ALL OUT OF TREES.

So we made a few calls to some people who might know where we could get a tree. Another lot we didn't know about, perhaps, or someone with a country property where we could cut ourselves a fine Charlie-Brown-ish specimen. The last thing we wanted to do was drive to the next town and get a tree at Canadian Tire, or, worse yet, SuperStore.

Long story short, we bought a tree at, ugh, SuperStore. Apparently there are no other trees to be had 'round these parts. I told The Music Man I want to start a Christmas tree farm and I was only partly kidding.

I will try to forget where we bought it and how much we paid as we set it up tonight and decorate it tomorrow. And then I will expend vast amounts of energy keeping Monkey from tearing it down. But it will have lights and ornaments (of the non-matching variety, of course) and a funny little angel on top, and our house will be Merry in time for Christmas.

Snow falling on Cedars

There is a large, overgrown cedar outside our bedroom window. It looks beautiful these days, dusted with snow. When we first moved in our neighbours (whose driveway it hangs over) hinted that they would not be at all upset if we took it down. It is a bit on the ugly side, but looking out our bedroom widow one can imagine that the house is deep in the woods somewhere. We are due for another winter storm tonight and The Music Man and I (not so) secretly hope for a snow day tomorrow. It snowed all day on Saturday, my birthday. It was snowing when we woke up and was still snowing, a gentle steady snow, when we went to bed. I think it was my birthday present from God.

I had a lovely birthday. It was a relaxing, at-home sort of day. The Music Man made chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. The three of us played outside in the snow and Monkey was reacquainted with his sled (which still has a bow on it from last Christmas). I worked on some Christmas goodies in the afternoon. The Music Man made supper. We watched "How the Grinch Stole Christmas". Then, to top off the evening the three of us went out to a little coffee shop in town where I drank a perfect cranberry apple cider and ate Nanaimo bar. After Monkey was in bed, we watched the first part of "Love Actually", which we've seen a gazillion times and is still great, and which we first saw in the Cinema on my birthday when we lived in Edinburgh.

My birthday gifts seemed particularly noteworthy this year as well. We had a party with my family last weekend. My dad's birthday is two weeks before mine, so we often have a party in between. My parents gave me a new Paderno muffin tin (which I needed) and a cookie sheet (which you can always use). They also gave me socks, a Christmas ornament and three little bubble baths from Fruits and Passions. My brother, bless his heart, gave me "The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding" (which I need for my application to be a La Leche League Leader. More on that another time). Now, just take a minute to imagine your own brother going into a book store and buying you a book about breastfeeding. Exactly. What a wonderful brother I have. Monkey and the Music Man gave me a beautiful hand-knit poncho. It is a perfect shade of red and so cozy. And a box of chocolate truffles. I feel so blessed.

So here's hoping the coming winter storm is a whopper and that maybe, just maybe we'll be snowed in tomorrow.

Things I *Love* About a Manitoba Winter

Bearing in mind that it is actually technically autumn for another three weeks.

*How my car won't start, because we didn't plug it in. And then how it still won't start after being plugged in over night.
*How the back of my head hurts from the cold when I'm out walking, because the elastic in my toque is all worn out.
*How getting dressed to go outside now takes approximately six hours (give or take...)

Okay, but now some things that I actually love about a Manitoba winter...
*How everything is so pretty and white.
*How tomorrow is my birthday.
*How all the Christmas songs about snow actually mean something here.
*How a hot chocolate or cider is essentially mandatory after being outside for any length of time.

******

Some blog-business - -
Apparently NOBODY cares about the Blue Bombers losing the Grey Cup. For my American readers, a little translation...
Winnipeg Blue Bombers = a team in the Canadian Football League
Grey Cup = CFL equivalent of the Super Bowl

Some Monkey-Business - -
He is walking and talking like a crazy man. He says well over 20 words now (we lost track around 20). He is so much fun and has such a great sense of humour. He likes the snow ("no") so far, but he hasn't played in it very much yet, due to the ridiculously cold temperature. We are getting a little bored though, so if you have any suggestions for activities to do with a 13 1/2 month old, let me know...

A Blue and Gold Mourning

Why?

Why do you do it Blue Bombers?

You get our hopes up. Really up. And then you let us down. Always letting us down. But we always hope. Maybe next year. There's always next year.

You were supposed to do it for Milt. If you couldn't do it for him, how will you ever do it at all?

Oh, Bombers.

BREAKING NEWS

Music Man stumbled across what is, officially, the BEST BLOG EVER.

Go check it out. I "guarantee" it will make you smile.

Now with Guests

{I won't write about the hour I spent in the Doctor's waiting room at nap time this morning, or the three minute appointment that followed. Or how I asked the receptionist if I could put a La Leche League poster up on the bulletin board to which she replied, "No, we only allow medically related notices." To which I replied "I would've thought that breastfeeding would be considered medically related." To which she replied with silence. Or about how I put the poster up anyway (because I'm sneaky like that), right next to a poster about a craft sale.

No, I will just introduce you to today's GUEST BLOGGER - MONKEY.}


Boon.
Boon.
Boon.
Boon.
Ba.
Ba.
Boon.
Boon.


Oosh.
Oosh.
Boon.
Ba-oon.

Da.
Da.
Boon.
Ba.
Ba.

Ba.
Ba.
Ba.

~Monkey

(And now, a translation. Boon/Ba-oon=Balloon. Ba=usually ball, sometimes box or bottle, or anything he doesn't know the word for. Oosh=shoe. Da=Dad. Just a small sampling of his burgeoning linguistic genius.)

I have a confession to make

I listened to some Christmas music on the weekend.

In my defense, I was making my Christmas Pudding at the time. Okay, and I also listened to some while working on the first of the home-made gifts we will be giving this year. But now the Christmas music is back on the shelf, where it belongs, waiting until the appropriate time to be brought out again. The appropriate time, in case you were wondering, is December 1st. It is the first day of the month of Christmas and usually quite close to the First Sunday of Advent (if not the actual day.) It also happens to be my birthday.

When I was younger I used to badger my parents to please let us put up the Christmas tree on my birthday. As an adult I can see that this was actually not a good idea, and they weren't just being mean. We usually put our tree up around the middle of the month, still earlier than my folks do it. I have always thought the idea of trimming the tree on Christmas Eve was rather romantic, but then you miss those two weeks or so of Tree-enjoyment.

So I will repress my urge to start the Christmas-ing now, so that I can truly enjoy it later. Even though my evenings will be spent at the sewing machine. And even though the cold and snow could be arriving any day. I will wait.

Bring us Some Figgy Pudding

This is the time of year to start thinking about your Christmas Pudding. (What? You don't all make Christmas pudd? Shame on you.) I probably would've made mine this weekend, but we were away. We spent the weekend with the Music Man's family following the passing of his Uncle, whose funeral was yesterday.

The thing about Christmas pudd is that the longer it has to cure, the better it tastes. Some people make it already in September. I figure about two months is good enough. The other thing about it is that it is an all day job. So, I didn't make one last year with a newborn around, but I will do my best this year. We'll see...

Here is the recipe I use for my Christmas Pudding. I got it from a magazine when we lived in Scotland. My favourite thing about it was that in the magazine it called it a four step recipe. Ha ha. You'll see what I mean.

4 oz self raising flour
1 level tsp mixed spice
3 oz fresh white bread crumbs
1 oz flaked almonds
12 oz mixed dried fruit
1 tart dessert apple, peeled, cored and coarsely grated
2 large eggs
grated rind and juice from 1 lemon
1 Tbsp black treacle
6 oz light muscovado sugar
4 oz butter
2 Tbsp brandy or rum plus extra for flaming
salt

1.2 litre/2 pint pudding basin

1. Sift flour and spice with a pinch of salt in a large mixing bowl. Add bread crumbs, almonds, mixed fruit and apple. In a small bowl combine eggs, lemon rind and juice and treacle. Warm sugar and butter in a sauce pan until melted.

2. Add egg mixture and butter mixture to dry ingredients. Cover with a cloth and allow to stand 1 hour. Mix again. Butter pudding basin. Spoon in mixture and spread level. Cover with buttered baking parchment, pleated. Cover with pleated foil and secure with a string. make a string handle to help remove basin from pot.

3. Place pudding on a trivet or upturned saucer in a deep sauce pan. Add boiling water to come a third of the way up the basin. Cover with lid and bring to boil. Simmer gently for 6 hours topping up with water as needed.

4. Let the pudding cool completely. Remove coverings. Spoon over brandy or rum. Recover with fresh, unbuttered baking parchment. Seal well and store somewhere cool and dry. Before serving, let the pudding come to room temperature recover with buttered baking parchment and foil. Secure as before and steam for a further 2 hours. Remove covering and invert the pudding on serving dish. Warm brandy or rum in a metal ladle over a candle. When it is warm carefully tip the ladle to let the flame lick over the side. Pour flaming brandy/rum over the pudding.

See, it's easy. And only four steps! Here are some extra tips from my own experience.

*if you don't have self-raising flour - for one cup use 1 cup all purpose flour, 1 tsp baking powder, 1/2 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp baking soda
*I don't know if you can get "mixed spice" as such in North America. I brought some with me from Scotland and it will be used up this year. I don't know the proportions, but it is a mix of cinnamon, coriander, caraway, nutmeg, cloves.
*Same with "mixed dried fruit". I use sultanas, currants, prunes, dates and a bit of candied peel.
*treacle = molasses
*I just use regular brown sugar.
*I make a double recipe. It is so soft that you can squish it back into the basin and serve it again at the next gathering looking like new.
*Oh yeah, a pudding basin is a deep bowl with a rim that you can tie a string around.
*The fridge is a good place to store it, if you can spare the space.
*Make sure you turn down the lights when you bring in the blue, flaming pudding!

This is a tradition that we started when we lived in Scotland. I look forward to the time when our kids can all help on pudding day.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. The most important step is to make a wish as you stir the pudding!

Let's get the ball rolling

even further.

Again, because I can, I choose to tag two more people for my brand new Music Meme. Okay Pieces and Chaotic Joy, let's see what you have to say on the matter...

Because I Can

And thus marking the point of no return in my foray into Blogdom. I am starting a meme. (I don't know if there has been one like this going around. If there has, I have not seen it.)

Here we go.....

The MUSIC MEME!

What song is in your head?
Well, not at this exact moment, but for the last couple of weeks it has been "Between My Legs" by Rufus Wainwright, from Release The Stars.
"But when the rocket ships all fall
and the bridges they all buckle
and everybody's packing up their station wagons
There's a number you can call
like a breast that you can suckle
and we quietly will exit as it all is happening."

What is the newest album in your collection?
Illinoise by Sufjan Stevens. It arrived from Amazon yesterday.

What is the top album on your wish list?
Three Musical Fables by John Rutter. Including The Reluctant Dragon, Brother Heinrich's Christmas and The Wind in the Willows. This follows a discussion with another blogger about Michaelmas celebrations and things pertaining to the story of St. George and the Dragon.

What is the most recent live music event you have attended?
My High School's concert celebrating the 40th anniversary of the Choir Program.

What is the top live music event on your wish list?
I would love to see Over The Rhine on their Trumpet Child tour. Unfortunately the closest they will be to us, as far as I can tell, is Minneapolis. And while before Monkey there would have been a small chance of us driving 6 1/2 hours for a concert, there is no chance of that now.

What are the top three albums currently in rotation at your house?
1. Release the Stars - Rufus Wainwright
2. The Trumpet Child - Over the Rhine (I have been meaning to post a review of this album. But now it is almost two months old.)
3. The Corner Grocery Store - Raffi (on cassette from the thrift store. Score.)


Okay! That was fun.
I will tag the following...

Karen from Needs New Batteries. I am new to her blog and will be interested in her answers.
Juris Mommy. I don't actually know that much about her, so here we go.
Bren J. from Stranger in a Stranger Land and
Brenda from The Ones With the Baby. They are virtual twins, so lets see if any of their answers are the same.

(you guys can feel free to tag as few or as many people as you like. Have fun!)

I got my Baking badge!

I have to show off a bit now that I have recovered from Monkey's birthday parties. (Yes, two parties. Friday with his "friends" [my friends and their kids] and Saturday with our families. He had all his grandparents, great-grandparents and one uncle at his party. It was great.)

My "best bit" from his party was bringing in the cake. I was so proud of it. I got the pattern from this great book.



My mom made cakes out of this book when we were kids. In particular I remember the Angel and the Baseball Glove. So, because Monkey loves dogs I chose to make "Woofy Dog." I think he turned out pretty good, don't you?

I made a standard chocolate cake recipe from my trusty Better Homes and Gardens cookbook. The dark spots are chocolate covered coconut. The lines are black licorice. The whole cake is covered in butter icing and coconut, so he looks furry. Thanks to Music Man for helping to decorate it. It was the best cake ever.


Now we are recovering from parties, realizing we now have a one-year-old and eagerly anticipating Monkey's first steps (which seem to be only days away.)

One Year Ago Today (and tomorrow...)

It was a Thursday evening, shortly after 9. I was in my pajamas and on my way to bed, nine months pregnant and very tired. The Music Man was watching tv, likely baseball playoffs. I sat down with him for a couple of minutes until I felt a very strong urge to go to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet for a minute but nothing happened and the feeling passed. I sat back down in front of the tv. In a couple of minutes the urge hit again. This happened a couple of times before I realized that perhaps it was something other than the bizarre urge to poo. By the time we realized that I might be in labour it was feeling more like the way I expected contractions to feel, except not this strong and not this fast. By the end of the first half hour they were coming about every four minutes.

The Music Man phoned our doula and the hospital and they both said to wait a bit longer but if the contractions continued at that rate to go in right away. I was frantically busy doing the things that I was planning to do during the hours of labour at home. "It's your first baby," everyone said, "your labour will be long." I needed to pack food for the hospital (everything else was packed already.) I needed to shave my legs (in retrospect this was not a need, and I will skip this step next time if I have to.) There I was,in the tub, trying to shave my legs between contractions that were coming every three or four minutes. The Music Man chose some clothes for me to wear when I got out of the tub, and as soon as we could we were out the door.

By this time it was nearly 11 o'clock. It was very dark and very windy. The 15 minute drive to the hospital seemed very long and I had about five contractions on the way. When we got there we parked in the 15 minute loading zone and went inside to register. I was standing at the front desk trying to sign forms while having contractions. They asked me if I wanted a wheelchair, but I wanted to walk to the maternity ward. When we got upstairs we checked in at maternity. The first nurse we talked to asked when my labour had started. "Around 9:30, " I said. "This evening? And this is your first baby?" she asked, with a look that said, "What are you doing here? Go home, you've hours to go yet." They put me in an LDR room and told me to put on a gown, which I did with Music Man's help. Another nurse came in to strap the monitor to my belly. She was the nurse who had given us our tour of the ward during our prenatal classes. (I think her name was Corine)

After 1/2 hour Corine confirmed that my contractions were coming fast and strong. Another nurse came in to do a vaginal exam. She told us that I was 8 cm dilated but that it was a bum coming first. Corine checked and confirmed a breech presentation. Now we were facing a c-section. This was a possibility I wasn't entirely prepared for. We had a birth plan and a doula. We were prepared for birth and doing everything in our power to prevent any unnecessary interventions. According to my last appointment the baby was head down and ready to go. My doctor and the on-call obstetrician came in. My doctor confirmed breech, but the other doctor (a man) said, "No, that's a face." No one else agreed with him, but even if that had been the case they would've suggested a c-section. My doctor began to explain the procedure to me, stopping every minute or so to let me have a contraction. I was getting impatient and felt like saying "I can still listen while I'm having a contraction. Get on with it." Looking back, I am pretty sure that I was in transition at that time.

During all of my contractions The Music Man was amazing. He held my hand and sang me "Summertime" which was the song he sang to my belly before bed when I was pregnant. He got me through and I was able to breathe through my contractions, even when I was barely getting a break between them. I am confident that if I had been able to deliver vaginally we would have made it through labour with no medication.

They took me to the OR while the Music Man got his gown and mask on. The anesthesiologist was wonderful. He put me at ease as he prepared to give me the epidural. (He was the best doctor I dealt with through the whole thing.) The on-call obs. was the surgeon who performed the section. The Music Man was beside me holding my hand through the whole thing. I think he even watched a little bit. When they had the baby out they announced "It's a boy" and held him up for me to see. At which point I cried. (oh, and the women made "I told you so" faces at the surgeon when they saw that the baby was, in fact, breech.) Only they didn't hold him high enough, so the Music Man reached out to hold the curtain down for me to see. They started shouting "contamination" and threw an new sheet over where he had touched. It was hilarious, but I was able to see the baby. The Music Man went with the baby to the table to get weighed and wrapped up. They even left an extra bit of cord on for him to cut. When the baby was wrapped up the Music Man brought him over to me and I kissed his head. One of the nurses went to get a camera and took a picture of the three of us (which they printed and brought to us the next day.) Then the Music Man and the baby left and I had to get sewn back up. That seemed to take FOREVER.

When they were done they took me to recovery where the Music Man and Baby were waiting for me. Our doula was there too. She had moved all our stuff over from the LDR room and had gone to our car (still parked in the 15 min loading zone) to get our camera. She took pictures as we put the baby to my breast and he nursed for the first time.

Needless to say, it wasn't the birth that we had planned. In fact, our birth plan stayed in the car with our bags until after he was born. From the first contraction to his birth was just a little over four hours. It was a wonderful experience none the less. I am so thankful to The Music Man for his constant support and love. He sang me through, and I couldn't have done it without him.

Monkey
Born 1:37 am
Friday the 13th of October, 2006

I love you.

My Thanksgiving Post aka A feast for Your Eyes

(a picture of me counts as a feast right? right?)

In anticipation of Monkey's upcoming first birthday, I have been thinking a lot about what I was doing last year at this time. Last year on Thanksgiving weekend I was highly pregnant and eating lots of turkey and pie.

To me Thanksgiving has never felt like a particularly festive holiday. Day off, eat turkey. But not festive, so much. Until last year. It might have had something to do with pregnancy hormones, I don't know. My mom came to our house in the middle of the week to help me with some last minute pre-baby house cleaning. Then my dad and brother came out on the Saturday and we attended our local "Pumpkin Festival". Giant pumpkin weigh-offs, craft sale, exhibit hall (think "State Fair", ladies competing for best jams, baking, pickles. Much fun.) I even wore an orange maternity t-shirt with a jack-o-lantern face on it. Yup. My own wee pumpkin at the Pumpkin fest.

On Sunday, the Music Man's folks and a dear family friend joined us and we hosted an eight person Thanksgiving Dinner. It was wonderful. Warm, cozy, family, turkey. Festive.

This year, Thanksgiving will look a bit different. We will be traveling to my parents house with our almost-one-year-old. It will be crazy, and fun. There will be turkey and family. And hopefully the festive feeling of last year will carry over to this year, and years to come.

(Think about all the comments you get on an ordinary day as a pregnant lady. Now imagine wearing a jack-o-lantern shirt to the Pumpkin Fest when you are nine months pregnant. Needless to say, it took some convincing to get me to wear the shirt in the first place...)

Happy Thanksgiving!

WBW - Canadian Edition

We Canadians like to be different (Thanksgiving in November? No. October for us, thanks.) In that spirit someone somewhere in Canada decided that we should celebrate World Breastfeeding Week in October instead of August. So....

Happy World Breastfeeding Week - Canadian Edition.
October 1 - 7, 2007

Avast, me hearties...

Firstly, I am posting this picture in an effort to have my profile picture not disappear (you may have noticed that I had one for about a day...)

Secondly, one of my music students is MOVING AWAY. I often think that I am not meant to be teaching lessons because this. always. happens. grrr.

Thirdly, it is international Talk Like a Pirate Day. So go ahead, talk like a pirate ye scurvy land lubber.

********

Brenda mentioned (and Bren agreed) that I should send my little "Bacon Bits" story to the Readers Digest. I have sent things to RD before, funnier things, and they didn't get published. But RD's loss is your gain, because I will share them with you now. (Both these stories are from the year that I worked at a day care)

A girl and a boy, both four years old, were playing with some plastic food in the toy kitchen. "Please pass the pasghetti," said the girl. The boy responded, "It's MA-sghetti!"

Another four year old boy was quietly singing to himself. "There was a farmer had a dog and Bingo was his name-o. B-I-M-B-O..."

Pass the Bacon Bits

On Tuesday I taught my first music lessons in over a year - one piano and one voice lesson. One of the girls from church came to our place to watch Monkey while I taught. They had a great time together and I think he will look forward to her coming every week. I had a great time too. My voice was tired by the end of the hour (note to self: less talking, more music). But the best part was that I got paid for all the lessons in September (three weeks X two students = not very much $). It felt good to hold those cheques in my hand.

erin k : "Look, Monkey, Mama brought home a tiny little bit of bacon."
music man: "Bacon bits"

Yes, bacon bits. And that's okay.

**********

I got an email today informing me of an upcoming event to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the choir program at my high school. This is an event that I would actually be interested in going to if it weren't for my wee Monkey and the fact that it is on Thanksgiving weekend (I'm home to eat turkey, people. Don't mess with turkey time.) Choir was my life in high school. So, though I'm not likely to participate I may go to the alumni choir concert, just for fun.


Music man graduated high school one year before me (and 300 kms away). Both of our ten year reunions have come and gone. Except, they didn't come. Neither of us heard a peep about a reunion of any sort. This is not disappointing to me because I really really wanted to go. No, this is disappointing because if there is no reunion, there is nothing to not go to. I can't show how little I care about such things if there is nothing about which to say, "No, I don't think I'll go." In truth, this is actually what I said would happen all along. I can't see anyone from my graduating class caring enough to organize a reunion. Yup. We just don't care. And that's okay by me.

The World This Week

This week I was so pleased to read all the very positive comments regarding my poem. Thank you all very much.

However, this week I was also saddened by two great losses to the World of Art.

Luciano Pavarotti 1935-2007

and

Madeleine L'Engle 1918-2007

You can see some tributes to these great artists here and here.

untitled

As usual, I am slow on the draw. I originally heard about this challenge from Joy, but it was issued by Slouching Mom. A 26 word poem with each word starting with the next letter of the alphabet (ie. acrostic). And so, I present you with my attempt. It was written with a bit of input from Music Man after a discussion about Contemporary Worship Music on the way to the lake on Sunday morning (yes, when we should've been in church...).

A burgeoning contemporary denomination expresses feelings.

God.

Hallelujah.

"I just know, Lord, my needs openly provided."

Quality?
Relevance?

Satiated throngs undervaluing veracity.
Who xeroxed your zeal?

and the winner is...

Yay! My first Blog-related Award-icon! Brenda at The Ones with the Baby was nice enough to bestow upon me this award...





“This award is for those bloggers who are nice people; good blog friends and those who inspire good feelings and inspiration. Also for those who are a positive influence on our blogging world."


I will in turn bestow it upon these bloggy-gals:


Beck and Bub and Pie, for being nice enough to be the first people that I don't know in real life to comment on my blog. It was on this post and made me feel good and want to keep blogging.


Happy long weekend everyone!

Ode

Dear vessels out of which we daily sup,
Wherefore is it so hard to clean you up?
At six o'clock we gather for to dine,
Why are the dishes still unwashed by nine?

If anyone else needs some encouragement in their kitchen they should probably watch this. (You should also watch it if you like getting emotional for no good reason.)

Oh, and if anybody has any really great tips for keeping the grocery bill down, I would love to hear them. My maternity benefits run out any day now...



Edited to add: By "nine" I mean nine the next evening. Or the evening after that...

A Message For Motorists Everywhere

Dear Drivers,

As you may recall from Bike Safety in grade three, when I am on my bike I AM A VEHICLE. This means that I follow the rules of the road just like any other vehicle. It is very hard for me to do this when you won't let me. For example, if I have a stop sign and you don't, please don't stop to let me cross the street. You are not doing me a favour, or doing the right thing. What you are doing is teaching your children bad cycling habits and slowing the flow of traffic. I have tried and tried to get you to stop doing this, but from now on I will not try anymore. When you let me cross the street I will go. Not because you are so nice and I would never have made it across if you hadn't stopped. Not because it is my turn to go. Only because if I try to wave YOU to go we will end up waving at each other for five minutes until I finally go anyway because I can't get you to (even though, as previously stated, you have the right of way). I will still shake my head at you, even if it turns out you are someone I know (which may have happened today.) I just thought you would like to know.

Sincerely,

erin k

Just Ducky

My little Monkey is a Duck. I was a bit surprised when I found out that he passed his swimming lessons. He got a report card and everything. It turns out he can do things like

"Child experiences water on face"

and

"Makes water move up, down, forward, backward".

And as a parent I

"Helps child move/float while wearing a PFD"

and

"Watches demo of airway obstruction technique".

Oh yeah. We're good. And he got a homemade fish-shaped cookie and a sticker to show for it. (Come on Red Cross. What happened to badges. I can't sew a sticker to anything. Sheesh.) At first I thought the sticker said "Swim Nation". Then on closer inspection I saw that they spelled nation wrong. And THEN I realised that it actually says "Swim - Natation". ("Natation" is French, by the way)

On a similar note the following conversation took place in the car on the way to the Lake on Friday...

erin k: What does that mean? (referring to a deer crossing sign with the words "Night Danger" underneath)

Music Man: Umm. It means there's danger at night.

pause. stifled giggles.

erin k: I thought it said "Night Dancer"

more stifled laughter so as not to wake a sleeping Monkey.

****************************

I'm a little (okay, very) late in mentioning this, but you should go check out Musings of a Crunchy Domestic Goddess' Breastfeeding Collage for World Breastfeeding Week. I'm on there. Can you see me?

Facebook, Facebook, Go Away/ Monkey Business

Dear Facebook,

I am scared of you. Yet everyone seems intent on getting me to join you. What's the deal? A few weeks back we got four invitations to join in three days. This is silliness. I am already way less anonymous out here in this so called "World Wide Web" than I would like to be. Do I really want people I know (read: used to know) to be able to contact me? The truth of the matter is, I don't even know how you work. But everyone wants me to join and that's enough reason for me not to. It seems to me that the MySpace people are much less aggressive. Maybe I'll join MySpace just to spite you.

Sincerely,
erin k

***************************

I feel better now that I got that out of my system.

In case anyone is wondering, this is what is new in Monkey's life...

-He has his last swimming lesson tomorrow. (he will miss his Friday lesson as we head out to Northern Ontario for the weekend.) Do I give his swimming teacher a thank-you gift?

-He has been enjoying his new Chariot bike trailer. He will enjoy it even more when Music Man gets his bike fixed (which is hopefully happening as I write this)

-He said "Good-Bye" to his cousins, who left on Sunday morning for Asia. We are so glad they got to spend time together, even though he won't remember it. The next time they see each other will probably be two years from now.

-He has learned to climb the stairs. Yup. Just like that. Now we have to keep a super close eye on him when we are in the basement (read: I can't get wrapped up in reading blogs when he is down here with me.) Crazy.

-He is cuter than ever. Seriously. He just keeps getting cuter and cuter. (This will stop eventually, like when he is 12.)



(I'm trying to think of a clever way to end this post, but it's not going to happen.)

Butterflies

Social ones that is. We have gotten together with people for the last three nights in a row. That is basically unheard of for us. But it often seems to happen that way. Boring Boring Boring Boring then suddenly a burst of social activity. But don't worry, I'm not complaining.

I guess no one loves me enough to send me to the Glen though, since it is halfway through Glen week and I am nowhere near Santa Fe. Oh well, maybe next year. (I know, I know, probably not next year either, but it's nice to dream...)

I've been too busy/unmotivated to post these days. Monkey is taking swimming lessons this week. It's kind of silly, I know, but mostly I just want him to get used to being in the water. Today was his third lesson and I can already see an improvement. He is more excited about the water and less resistant. He won't "pass" his level though, seeing as he doesn't understand things like how to blow bubbles. He'll just be in Ducks again next year.

***************************************************

Now, I'm not usually the kind of person who enters online contests, but...

Amy at Musings of a Crunchy Domestic Goddess just opened her new store Cute as a Bug.
She has cute t-shirts etc for babies, and is giving one away! You should also check out her other store, Attached at the Hip. Very cool. Leading me very nicely to the fact that it is


WORLD BREASTFEEDING WEEK!!! August 1-7. Please encourage a breastfeeding mother this week. It is the best thing she can do for her baby. Let her know you think she is doing great.

Pining for the Glen

It's nearly Glen time. Oh, the Glen. It is like the most fabulous summer camp ever, except way way better and for adults. Imagine this...

A college campus in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Nestled in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. A whole lecture hall full of Christian artists. Painters, poets, novelists, songwriters. Catholics, Orthodox, Protestants. More food for your brain and soul than you can digest.

We wish we could go to the Glen again this year. We had such a wonderful time last year. We got to know so many great people. We learned so much about art and faith. We were opened to new ideas. We were challenged, we were stretched, we were affirmed.

Have a look at this picture. Do you see the man with white hair and a blue shirt in the middle towards the back? That's Eugene Peterson. Eugene Peterson! He wrote "The Message". And he spoke every night at chapel last year at the Glen. That is the kind of person you can meet, chat with, eat breakfast with at the Glen.

And look at the next picture. That is me and the Music Man on the left with Linford Detweiler and Karin Bergquist, aka Over the Rhine. A rock star is touching my 6 1/2 month pregnant belly. Only at the Glen, folks. Only at the Glen.





So, in closing, if anyone has a large sum of money to give me in the next week to cover flights and tuition, I will love you forever and ever, and I will frolic my way down to Santa Fe.

June Cleaver I am not

(note: my technical difficulties seem to have resolved themselves. hoorah.)

I want to be a "together" mom. You know the type. (In fact, in my imagination you are all that type.) The moms at the park whose children are wearing clothes that match. Who speak with enthusiasm to their kids. Who look like they have showered AND brushed their hair in the last 24 hours. I fear I will never be that way.

I had it all planned out. When we moved into our new house I would magically become organised, creative, energetic. I would have a weekly menu. I would have a task for each day of the week (Monday - Laundry, Tuesday - cleaning and vacuuming, etc.). The little counter on the side of my kitchen would have neat and tidy in- and out-trays. Has it happened? Of course not. Moving house cannot change one's personality. What was I thinking?

It's not that I don't have the capacity to be organised. I have always been very organised at school or at work. Somehow it just doesn't transfer to home. Go figure.

So perhaps I just need to reevaluate my goals. I guess it's okay that today is Tuesday and I did sweep the floor but didn't vacuum or clean the bathroom. I did manage to keep Monkey clean, fed and relatively happy. I did manage to make supper (even though the rice on the menu had to change to macaroni when I discovered we are out of rice...). And, as of 9 o'clock in the evening, I have managed to have a shower AND brush my hair. I guess I'm doing alright.

I'm sure June Cleaver wasn't nearly as fun as I am anyway.

Faery Tale

I don't think this town exists. Perhaps I have discovered some sort of Brigadoon. Or perhaps I have somehow found myself in a children's story. I'm not sure, but this place cannot be real.

When we moved from Hick-ville, 20 minutes down the road we thought we were moving closer to shops, church, friends. We did not realise we were entering an enchanted land. Now, correct me if I'm wrong here, but there is no such thing as a real-life place with

*a library. (okay, okay, not so amazing. But we've been without for two years. It's amazing to me.)
*a fabulous park with a wading pool. (and the pool is open from 12 to 8. 12 to 8, people, that's like, all day.)
*a beach. (like a nice one. It could be the set of a steamy teen drama.)
*woods. (real woods with a creek and everything. The kind where wood elves and dryads live.)
*old people riding bicycles. (all the time. with baskets)


Plus we have an apple tree on our yard, and the neighbours have a different variety hanging over our fence. And the other neighbours have a Nanking Cherry tree that hangs over the fence. (The cherries are just about ready...)

* * * * *

Down to business. The name issue must be resolved. So here goes. Barring any violent protest new bloggy names shall be as follows :

Husband = Music Man (this indicates his general field without saying his exact profession)
Baby = Monkey (most used nickname, and very apt)

The blog will remain Whitekirk, because, as Bren pointed out, lots of churches move and don't change their names. (Oh, just in case you didn't get it, our old house was a church, which we called Whitekirk.)

Help!

I'm having some blog troubles. Maybe someone can help me...

I am trying to change/update my side bar features (Reading log, links etc.) but when I go to Layout to change them I click "save changes" and it says "saving..." forever, but never actually does anything. I am so frustrated! Help anyone????


(again, apologies for my lame-o posts, and lack of them...)


oh yeah, also, I can't sign out.

The odds aren't great

You know, I've watched Shaun of the Dead enough times, you would think I would do better than this. Oh well.


(sorry the posting has been on the slow side. when I have something to say, I will...)

Who Am I?

I just said good-bye to Baby and Husband. They are going to play soccer (well, Husband is. Baby will cheer him on.) That means I have the house to myself. This never happens, and I don't know what to do. I will not do the dishes in the sink, because Husband promised to do them when he gets home. I will not unpack any more boxes because, well, I don't want to. I will not clean anything.

It seems, I have forgotten what I like to do.

I guess having a baby will do that to a person, although I always thought it wouldn't happen to me. Spending every waking minute (and some not-so-waking) caring for another human being causes one to forget one's self.

So, I have to remind myself WHO I AM.

I am:

A pianist
A singer
A songwriter.
A believer in Jesus Christ.
A sister, a daughter, a wife (oh yeah, and a mother)
A walker.
A reader.
Crafty.
Creative.
Caring.
A good friend.
Funny.
Fun.
Silly.
Melodramatic.
A musical theatre lover.
A sunbather.
A camper.
A tea drinker.
A choco-holic.
Pretty.
Smart.
Important.



Okay, I feel better now. I think I will go outside and plant the rest of my flowers.

Feel free to tell me who YOU are.

Happy Birthday

Baby's future wife has been born!
Congratulations Bren and Husband. We love you guys.
Welcome to the world, Anja! You are beautiful.

A Few Words About Books

Some of you may have noticed that a number of the books in my Reading Log are children's books. I like reading children's books for a couple of reasons. First, a well written book is just as enjoyable for an adult as a child (if not more so. I enjoyed the Anne series much more this time around.) Also, they make good reading for bedtime nursing. You don't have to think too much, the chapters are short, they are exciting.

Also, I recently read "A Christmas Carol." (I know, it's June. I don't care.) I have never read it before and it is quite a charming little story in its original form. The only problem was that I kept picturing all the characters as Disney characters. Clearly, "Mickey's Christmas Carol" is the version I am most familiar with.

Even more recently, namely last night, I finished reading Lucy Maud Montgomery's "The Blue Castle." This was recommended to me by a friend as her favourite Lucy Maud book. The same person who told me I had to read Jane Eyre. I will be asking her for many more book suggestions. This was a wonderful book. Now officially my favourite LMM book too (I can't believe I hadn't read it before this!) You have to love it when you need to know what happens next so badly that your eyes skip ahead and your brain can't stop them. One of only two books that I wanted to read again as soon as I finished it (the other being Crime and Punishment. This time I might actually do it.)


On another note, I have some name issues. I need new blog names for Baby and Husband. Also, we no longer live in Whitekirk. Do I need to change my blog name? More later...

I've Never Been to Genoa City

10 Ways you can tell I'm not a character in an American Soap Opera


1. When I'm involved in a motor vehicle accident or natural disaster, my hair gets messy.

2. I'm not an executive in the fashion or cosmetics industry.

3. I've never been married to anyone who has previously been married to my mother or my daughter.

4. I've never poured myself a drink from a cut glass or crystal decanter.

5. I've never thrown said drink in anyone's face in a fit of rage.

6. I've never known anyone who was thought dead but showed up years later.

7. I've never had amnesia.

8. I don't pause dramatically and look away from the person I'm speaking to (while music swells).

9. I've never turned from good to evil (or from evil to good).

10. The plot of my life is doesn't get left in a dramatic cliff-hanger every Friday afternoon.

A Soap-Box of my Own and 8 Random Things

First, I would like to quickly respond to Bren's "Soap-Box" rant. I am not trying to be difficult, I just thought I should throw my two cents out there. While I agree that People should be a priority over the Planet on a daily basis, the long term health of our Planet is an important issue. Yes, we are commanded to love our neighbour and to care for widows and orphans in their distress. But we are also the stewards of God's creation, namely, the Earth we live on. We as Christians are responsible for both people and planet. On the whole, western Christianity is falling short on both fronts.



Okay, enough of that. On to 8 Random things about ME! (as tagged by Bren)

1. When I was little I thought that yawning let out sleep. So as I was trying to fall asleep I would stifle yawns, so as to keep all my sleepiness in.

2. When I was 6 or 7, on a particularly hot summer day, I rode my bike around our cul-de-sac with my shirt off, because, if the boys could do it, why couldn't I? (it didn't go over well...)

3. When I was 11 or 12, my school's track team went to a meet in Jamestown ND. A bunch of us snuck out of the hotel in the middle of the night. And got caught. I was grounded for a month.

4. In grade twelve I did not get the lead in our school's musical. This was extremely crushing to me as a honestly felt that I deserved it. It sometimes still makes me mad when I think about it (I know, I know, get over it already!)

5. In University I had a totally irrational fear that I would lose control of keeping my thoughts inside my head. It was especially present walking down the long, quiet corridors of the University library.

6. I switched my major from piano to voice almost entirely so that I didn't have to do a piano recital. (learning/memorizing voice music = easy. learning/memorizing piano music, especially 45 minutes worth = very hard)

7. I love, love breastfeeding my baby, challenges and all. So much so that yesterday I commented to my SIL that I would consider becoming a lactation consultant someday.

8. My absolute favourite band is Over the Rhine. Please, please check them out if you don't know them. Husband and I had the privilege of spending a week with them at a song writing workshop last summer. So great. (I also really like the Nifty Sounds*)

There you go. You know all about me now. I would tag someone but all of my (two) blogging readers have already been tagged. Maybe I'll tag my brother to encourage him to start a blog...

*if he does you can learn all about the Nifty Sounds...

The Ks Have Made Their Move

or "Isn't the Fridge Supposed to Fit There?"




We have been in our new house for over a week, so it is about time to share some fab tales of our moving adventure. Well, not adventure so much. In fact, everything went fairly smoothly. Except that our fridge didn't fit in the fridge hole (fridge hole is a technical term...)*

We had both of our families out to help us move, plus a cousin-in-law. We used my dad's truck and borrowed a trailer from someone at church. But our most valuable tool was this:



That's right, the Forearm Forklift. Wow. Let's just take a closer look at that picture.




Wow. If sulky teenagers can lift large appliances with the Forearm Forklift, then we'll be laughing. (and we were, when we read the very poorly translated instructions on the package...)

When we arrived at our new house we discovered that the previous owners had left us a surprise.


The biggest deep freeze ever. At first we were kinda mad. We don't need another deep freeze. But again, a closer look made us change our minds...



Now we have it. The Key to Better Living is ours! Bwa ha ha!

Seriously though, we love our new house. It is just right. Even Baby is starting to feel at home here. Also we have the added bonus of no revving neighbours. Hurah!


*Our too big fridge is currently residing in the basement (you can see it next to the deep freeze). The good news is, we hated that fridge anyway and now have a good excuse to buy a new one. Which we did. and are now awaiting delivery.

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

Mama's got a new pair of Shoes

A couple of sucky (sucktastic?) things happened today. First of all, Baby had his six month shots today. Now, this is actually a good thing, seeing as I don't want him to get crazy diseases, but it still feels bad to inflict pain on purpose. Secondly, I broke a glass. I hate when that happens. But, this is also not entirely bad. As Husband pointed out, it is one less thing to pack and move.

But a couple of really good things happened today too. I went to pick up my Sears catalogue order. Yay. This is what I got.





Aren't they cute? And only $12 a pair. That's 6 bucks a shoe! You can't go wrong. I especially love the little slip-on ones. That's why I ordered two colours. Also, I discovered this growing in our "flower bed" this morning. (It's really more of an over-grown weed bed with a couple of bulb flowers fighting their way through.)



Oh, and Baby is enjoying the letter "B" these days. "Ba. Ba. Bfff."

Oh, and Ottawa beat Pittsburgh.

Good night.

Seriously, don't.

One of the reasons I love Spring is that you sometimes discover little treasures that have been hidden under the snow for months. Like this...





We found this the other day on the little makeshift bridge over our ditch. (Yes, we live in the sticks. Our town has drainage ditches instead of storm sewers.) It made me smile. And I will now always remember that Texas is not to be messed with.


(ps. We know several very lovely people from Texas, with whom we would never have any need to mess.)

hmmmm...

Ah.

Sunshine.

Warmth.

Spring.

The high today is 15 degrees and tomorrow it's 20. Methinks spring, "the beautiful, capricious, reluctant, Canadian spring", with all its dilly-dallying, is finally here. Hooray!

I have been reading the Anne of Green Gables books again. I haven't read them for years. I think I can understand Anne better now than I could when I first read them. She is really a lovely girl. It makes me happy to read her adventures (and makes me want to travel to the East Coast...). I also have to wonder where all the beautiful names have gone. Ruby. Jane. Prillie. (There you go, Bren, just read the Anne books and you are sure to find a name.)

I hope all of you who have been plagued by a winter that just hangs on will be blessed with this warmth very, very soon.

TTFN