Ah, yes. The comfort zone.

We all have our comfort zones. Most of them involve routines, familiarity, and comfortable old sweatpants of either a literal or metaphorical nature. I firmly believe that you grow as a person & develop new dimensions & textures in your personality by forcing yourself to do things outside of your comfort zone, even if they're just little things. So I force myself to do new things pretty regularily, even if it's just teeny tiny things. (Provisional cast-ons - cool! Martinis - retch!)

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Amoryn was a huge, major new thing that was completely outside of any of my known zones, comfortable or otherwise. At least she was when she first arrived. We've been hanging around together now for almost seven months, & I've got to say, I think we've reached a comfortable place. She's got a daily routine (which I understand), she eats things (a lot of things), she plays, we laugh. It's great. It's really fantastic.
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So of course, because I'm feeling so very comfortable & content & complete, I want to avoid stagnating.

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I decided it was time to go back to work.

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A little bit at first - two or three days a week, from home. Depending on child care - I'd been looking for a pseudo-gramma who would babysit Amoryn in our house while I worked from the basement. I've found a wonderful auntie, who plainly adores Amoryn, and that's great. We tried a day home a couple of times, and that was... rocky. Basically, the dayhome lady nicely told me that Am is too much work, too small, & really, maybe I shouldn't go back to work yet. Am is too young for day cares, too.

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Then I met with my bosses, & recieved a lukewarm reception of my grand plan of working from home. This was discouraging.

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I slumped at home, baking cookies, mulling whether I wanted to get into a grand battle over working from home, or just say "screw you, hippie, my way or no way".

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Luckily, I was saved from this dilemma by my teammates asking me to do some work from home on an ongoing basis, sort of catch-as-catch-can.

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So yesterday, I did some work from home! Amoryn did not suffer, or even notice. The turkey noodle soup did suffer, in that I didn't make noodles. I don't think the soup minded, but the man was distressed over it. The pumpkin carving was fun. The day, as a whole, was good.

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Although different, strange, new & out of my comfort zone. Time will tell how the balancing act is progressing. I suspect it will be similar to Amoryn sitting up - wobble, wobble, correct, overbalance, tip, try again. As long as I tip into the lap of my husband & family & friends & home, & not onto my bosses, I think things should be groovy.

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PS: Also groovy - Amoryn's Halloween costume - Sir Winston Churchill. Sitting unasissted, even, with couch cushions for back-up. I think the likeness is striking.

Thud.

So, I'm sitting at the computer, combining my morning internet fix with my Amoryn snuggle time. She's wiggling a little bit, which is standard these days, when she leans forward and slowly & deliberately whomps her head on the desk.
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It made quite a good "thud", a little bit like the noise an underripe watermelon makes when you knock on it.
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I think it means she'd like to go & do something else now, Momma. So we're off to the tub and yet another botched version of "Rubber Ducky".

You make me happeeeeeeeeee...

You know, the world is full of things I don't know. Some of them are things I may suspect, but have never proved conclusively; and some of them are things that possess some piquant charm that makes them memorable once I do hear them.

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I've learned a couple things in the last day or so... one was that my suspicions about how much the old vacuum sucked were correct. Awkward sentence? Doesn't make sense? "The old vacuum blows." True. The new vacuum, the DC14 Dyson, I am seriously into. It sucks, and in that good, good vacuum way. I brought it home last night, put it together after supper, vaccuumed the arm chair, & then Sarah & I exclaimed in horror at all of the cat hair that was trapped in the clear bin (tm) of the Dyson.

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The thing I learned that I did not suspect, but find fascinating, is that "You Are My Sunshine" is one of the oficial songs of the State of Louisianna. (As well, I have a hard time spelling "Louisianna".) It was co-written by a Governor of L., & features a lyric about crawdads & gumbo & stuff. Maybe I do exaggerate a bit - but it does use the word "Jambalaya". The other state song is as I would expect it to be; "You Are My Sunshine" is a surprise though.

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Instead of signing off with a photo of all the stuff in the clear bin (tm) of the Dyson, I shall leave you with the full lyrics of "You Are My Sunshine".

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Official Song Act 540 of 1977:

...The official song for the State of Louisiana shall also be the musical composition with words and music by Governor Jimmie H. Davis and Charles Mitchell, entitled "You Are My Sunshine".

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"YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE"by Jimmie H. Davis and Charles Mitchell

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The other night, dear

As I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you in my arms.

When I awoke, dear

I was mistaken

And I hung my head and cried;

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CHORUS:

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are grey

You'll never know dear

How much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away.

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I'll always love you

And make you happy

If you will only say the same

But if you leave me

To love another

You'll regret it all some day;

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CHORUS

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You told me once, dear

You really loved me

And no one else could come between

But now you've left me

And love another

You have shattered all my dreams;

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CHORUS

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Louisiana my Louisiana

the place where I was borne.

White fields of cotton--

green fields clover,

the best fishing

and long tall corn;

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CHORUS

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Crawfish gumbo and jambalaya

the biggest shrimp and sugar cane,

the finest oysters

and sweet strawberries

from Toledo Bend to New Orleans;

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CHORUS

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(I so did not make any of that up. True story.)

You think that was hot? Check this out:

Yes indeed; alphabetizing & labelling my spice rack wasn't enough excitement. I just went through my knitting needles.

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I put the ones that had plastic sleeves back into their plastic sleeves.

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I elasticed the needles of set sizes together.

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I wrote each & every set down (although a circular needles is kind of like a pair of pants... you can't halve it).

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And then, solidifying my claim to be the Dork Queen of the Universe, I made an Excel spreadsheet of my knitting needles so I can sort by size, by type, add new purchases, etc.

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(Any remaining doubts about D.Q.U. will be annihilated by the knowledge that I own FOUR 9.0mm 80 cm circular needles. Admittedly, I was making a big cat bed to be felted**, but still. Excessive.)

**-Project was a pain in the batookus, so I unravelled the yarn & tucked everything back into my stash drawer. I *heart* knitting for this reason.

Funny.

The man is home from Spokane, huzzah! Every fall, he goes to Spokane, & every fall, I ask him to pretty please stop by Victoria's Secret & pick me up a bra or two. Not because they are excessively titilating, mind, but because they make good quality, comfortable bras. I think that may be one of the two things I minded most about being pregnant - I missed my VS bras. And their comfort & flattery.
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(The other thing? My shoes, darling, I missed my shoes. I could always see them, but I couldn't wear my pretty heels at all after about 13 weeks.)
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Anyways. Spokane. Bras. Back to topic. Sar also wears VS bras almost exclusively, so my good-sport husband goes to VS once a year or so, bearing not one but TWO bra lists.
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Through this exercise, we've discovered that a) the man is totally fabulous & unexpectedly patient b) VS stores do not stock even remotely close to everything in the online store or cataloge & c) they don't have the same sales.
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This arrived in my email box yesterday & made me laugh. It's great having a brilliant best friend AND an incredible husband.
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-----Original Message-----
From: Sarah
Sent: October 17, 2007 11:50 AM
To: Kourtney
Subject: Surreal

sur*re*al
Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[suh-ree-uhl, -reel]
-adjective
1. of, pertaining to, or characteristic of surrealism;
surrealistic.

2. having the disorienting, hallucinatory quality of a dream;
unreal; fantastic: surreal complexities of the bureaucracy.

3. talking with your husband on the phone at work about bra
colours, and lined vs. unlined options.

[Origin: 1935-40; back formation from surrealism
-Related forms
sur*re*al*ly, adverb
sur*re*al*i*ty, noun

That's only the first art of the email, she talks about what colors she will be getting. And that's for Sarah, Pat, & me to know! Ha ha ha!

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Okay. I am going to go & clean the bathrooms now, because half of my parents arrive on Saturday.

Piggy piggy piggy.

***CAUTION - IMAGES MAY OFFEND NON-CARNIVORES***

It was the man's birthday over the weekend. We had a party. And a roast suckling pig. It was good. It was delicious. It was inspiring.

Luckily, the man did take pics of the pig on the barby, other wise you'd be stuck with nothing but "after" photos, such as this:

And the cake - Pat is going for the last piece.

All in all, it was a splendid birthday party.

And everyone had a good time.

What I Did On The Long Weekend

You know, a little while ago a friend of a friend found out that I had a blog. He very thinly veiled his horror & contempt that I am, in fact, a mommy-blogger - the most noxious creature known to the internet*. I was rather insulted to have someone scorn my blog without reading it first, especially in my own home! Just because I'm a mom doesn't mean I have nothing to say! I still have thoughts & opinions & ideas**. I have concerns & projects & all sorts of STUFF*** that is worth talking about. After he's read all of my goofiness, THEN he can judge. Really. Like he was so darn superior. Didn't he realize that it was a BYOWeenie Roast at my house, & the weenies should never insult the hostess?

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Speaking of Important Things That I Find Interesting - my spice rack. I broke down & segregated & re-alphabetized it. And labelled all of the lids, too. Top shelf - baking. Bottom shelf - spice grinders. Middle two shelves - "the rest".

I reorganized the pantry as well. I'm so pleased; I wanted to sit in front of the open pantry door & bask, much as a person would in front of a fireplace. I still kind of want to do that.

I'm going to settle instead for leaving the pantry door open while I do dishes. The feng-shui-ed canned goods can direct their inner harmony at my back.

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PS: Just to fulfill the mommy-blog quotient of one child-centric thing per post - I washed Am's bedding & bear & camel.

Everybody survived okay though - the camel is positively radiant!

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*-Here you thought it was pedophiles. Nope. Mommybloggers are the bottom of the food chain.

**- True, a lot of my projects these days are whizzing food into mush for Am. Then combining mush types to get her to eat them. I'm mulling a gene-splicing frankenfruit horror - Banurkey - banana-turkey. I haven't yet; it seems so wrong. But I know Am would totally eat her turkey that way.

***-Admittedly, some of the stuff is about the incredibly weird poo**** that Am creates. But still!

****- Offically exceeding basic mommyblog requirements with mention of fecal matter.

It's Almost Driven Me Crazy

If you're not interested in car seats, this may well bore the crap out of you. BUT! Before you head over to I Can Has Cheezbrgr, please make note of this if you are buckling children into car seats:

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1. Shoulder straps should be even with or just below level of baby's shoulders if rear-facing; straps should be even with or just above kid's shoulders when forward facing.

2. Chest clip thingy should be at baby's armpit.

3. There should only be enough strap slack to insert a finger between the straps & the kid's collarbone.

4. Don't put the car seat & kid in the front seat.

5. Use a car seat EVERY time!

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Also, please note that a) I'm not a professional car seat person, b) if you misunderstand my summary, I'm not liable because of a), & c) it's all focused for babies, not toddlers, because I have no toddler experience. Yet. Also, don't sue. On to the post! (PS: Amoryn pics at the very bottom of this post. )

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Amoryn has been growing like a weed (a carefully tended, lovingly nourished weed), and she'll soon be too heavy for her current car seat. So I've been on the hunt for the next car seat, & oy vey. The options. One older lady told me a lovely story about how when her kids were small, they'd just chuck a single mattress in the back seat of the car & let 'em bounce around. "They loved it", she chuckled.

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Sadly, no longer an option. If nothing else, cars don't have back seats that big anymore. I have to admit, I've been going around in circles on the whole thing. I've finally sifted through all of the information I could find, & here, collated for your easy use (should you be buying a carseat in Canada at the very least, more particularily Alberta).

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FIRST:

The only thing your baby really truly needs that you MUST buy before they are born is a car seat. (Unless you are planning on the raw foodist/home birth/granola/live in a hut in the woods lifestyle. If so, good for you, & what the heck are you doing on the Internet? You should be making yogurt or something.)

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There are two car seat options for newborns:

1) The rear facing, infant only, easily removable, kind-of-looks-like-a-bucket car seat. These are great because they clip out of the car without disturbing your baby, & the precious, precious sleep of the baby. They also can clip into strollers & swings, depending on the make & model. They kind of suck because they tend to be heavy, & they are usually only good to 20-22 lbs or so. This is what we started out with, & I'd say it was well worth it, even though the girl will be out of it oh, say, next week.

2) The "convertible" car seat - it typically goes from rear facing 5-30 lbs-ish, to forward facing 20-40lbs-ish, to a booster seat, again depending on model. These are awesome because one car seat will generally get your kid to 40 lbs, 80 if there's the booster seat option. They are big, & they can't be removed as easily. This is what I'm on the hunt for.

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SECOND:

This is the car seat sizing info I have found:
1) Until your baby is at least a year old, they have to be backwards facing.

2) Until your baby is at least 20 lbs, they have to be backwards facing.

If your baby is 8 months & 23 lbs, still backwards facing. If you baby is 14 months & 18 lbs, still backwards facing. Must be a year & 20 lbs!

3) Until you child is 40 lbs, they have to be in a car seat with straps, not just a booster seat.

4) Until your child is 80 lbs OR 9 years old, put them into a booster seat.

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THIRD:

The Calgary Health Region has handouts, etc etc, that go through all of the information you need to know about putting your baby in his car seat. Here is the main link, & a FAQ link:

http://www.calgaryhealthregion.ca/hecomm/IPC/carseat.htm
http://www.calgaryhealthregion.ca/hecomm/IPC/Resources/tta_faq_aug.pdf

Handouts are available in Arabic, English, English - Aboriginal Peoples, Farsi, French, Punjabi, Simple Chinese, Spanish, Traditional Chinese, Urdu, & Vietnamese. Aren't we multicultural - no wonder I can't always figure out what language I'm hearing on the C-Train - I admit, I don't know my Urdu from my Farsi!

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FOURTH:

Transport Canada (ie: gavernment people) maintain a website that list problems, recalls, etc. Here's the link - and interestingly enough, one of the carseats I'm looking at had a bulletin posted on it in August.

http://www.tc.gc.ca/roadsafety/childsafety/notices/menu.htm

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FIFTH:

Land's sake, people, the internet is full of opinions. For once, I'm going to use this, instead of lamenting the fact, & heading back to look at lolcats. Before you buy a car seat, you may want to check out the following online reviews of carseats (Amazon is a shopping site, true, but has reviews of a lot of its products):

http://products.howstuffworks.com/car-seats-types.htm

http://www.epinions.com/Car_Seats

http://www.amazon.com/baby-infants-car-seats-booster/b/ref=sv_ba_4/104-6107446-3547137?%5Fencoding=UTF8&node=166835011

http://www.todaysparent.com/healthsafety/allages/article.jsp?content=20070405_142229_4368&page=1

Or, just go to Google, type in the car seat name & "review".

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FINALLY:

And that's all I've got, until later today when I go & get the car seat I think I've selected. Until then, here's a pick of Am in her new wheels!

She is quite frankly delighted with it. Or maybe the camel. Hard to say.

She is happy though!

UPDATE: The first carseat I bought I returned because it was too tall & didn't have much seat padding. The second carseat I bought I am going to return because the belting has a flaw, one handle thingy is broke, & it might be too wide (& bonk into the man's shoudlers when he is driving.) Otherwise, I love the second carseat.

Maybe It's Just Me,

It seems un-Christian to have a really, really loud muffler on a Jeep that needs to be revved all the time. One or the other, sure. But the combination? Excessive.

I kind of wish that there was something scriptural that said "Yea, and thou shalt not go forth and rev to 9,000 rpm, unless ye wish the neighbours chylde, which suffereth during loud VROOM VROOOOOOM noises, to be deposited upon thine doorstep to waileth at thee" or "Blessed are the quiet mufflers" or something.

But maybe it's just me. And my Christian neighbour with the glass-packs.

Breaking Klutz News!!!

Top 10 Optimistic Things To Say About Knocking A Roll Of Paper Towel Into The Toilet:
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10. Well, at least I had just cleaned the toilet bowl.
9. It is only the roll of paper towel I use to clean the bathrooms.
8. For once, it is optimistic to be glad the roll is half empty.
7. We do buy paper towel in bulk at Costco, & we're headed there this afternoon.
6. Quick reflexes to get the roll out when it was only just a little dunked.
5. I always wear gloves to clean bathrooms, so no "Ack! grabbing things in toilet with bare hands!" reflex.
4. Hm. Those darn environmentalists are always harping about "Save, reuse, blah blah"... I'll show them! Hah!
3. Yet another persuasive arguement in favour of Leaving The Seat Down.
2. After cutting off the lower, sodden half of the roll, said roll fits into bucket of bathroom cleaning stuff better.
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And the number one optimistic thing to say about knocking the roll of paper towel into the toilet:
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1. At least it wasn't the baby monitor.

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(Scene of the crime - note gloves, shortened paper towel, & baby monitor.)

Tra-la-la, doo-de-doo...

So! I've been busy. My back has much improved, & I'm down to needing two heat-pack breaks each day. I can put Am into her jumperoo. And I can snuggle up to my hubby. All of which are good things.

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I also made a bridesmaids outfit for Coreen - corset top, pencil skirt, & stole. All in a lovely dark brown satin. I had been planning on doing the bulk of the sewing the weekend I threw my back out, but heh, did not happen. I did a little bit (very little) on Monday, and a wee little bit on Tuesday, then I really actually did get some done on Wednesday, with it almost all finished for Thursday. I hemmed it Friday, & Coreen wore it in the wedding on Saturday. She looked awesome, but was apparently quite scandalous.

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Now that's its all safely finished, may I say "Phew!"; I am pleased with myself for getting that done. And I am very thankful that Coreen, who probably was quite concerned about the state of her dress (which was briefly re-scheduled as a toga/wrap thingy), was nothing but supportive & wonderful.

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I also knit Amoryn a silly little bonnet this weekend. Why? Well, I have a weakness for bonnets, my hands were empty, I had the yarn, and really, my girl, she doesn't have a lot of hair on her head. And winter is coming. So may I present:

Front view.

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Side view. Also, the Canada food guide on the fridge.

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An attempt at the back view (mamma, what ARE you doing?).

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And a more successful back view, complete with bottle of wine, box of tissue, & cell phone. She seems to like it (the hat, I mean - we don't let her drink wine, & her tissue & cell phone access are closely supervised), and even if she doesn't, it's tied on, so she can't yank it off.

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I also made soup yesterday - well, it started as potato bacon soup. It turned into a garden chowder, & I quite liked it, although the man was not as sold. He said it was the bacon, but I think it might have been that the broth was the exact color of beef stew, but there was no beef flavour. (Pureed carrots, tomatoes, & a little bit of bacon grease.) He did love the parmesan biscuits.

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I followed that up with a batch of cookies - the cookie jar from Ikea has been sitting empty & taunting me. It is now full of cookies (& temptation). Damn you, cookie jar!

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Also, damn myself for idiocy - on the third last pan of cookies, I opened the oven door, put the oven mit on my hand whilst thinking "careful, hot", grabbed the pan with the raw cookies with my right, oven-mitted hand, and then tried to grab the pan of baked cookies with my bare left hand. IDIOT! I lightly burnt my pointer finger & thumb, but did not shriek out loud, throw anything, or burn the cookies. Only my fingers. Idiot. The man was sweet & sympatheitc & took the other two pans out of the oven, after I confessed my idiocy.

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There's some new pics up at the Flickr site - and now that I've taken care of my digital duties, I'm off to go & dredge the bathrooms out. Tra-la!

A Random Smattering*

Food.
Food is going mostly very well. Mush has fallen from its throne, and has been replaced by fruit. Amoryn adores fruit, all fruit, gimme fruit, set mouth to garburate: kiwi, banana, watermelon, peach, yay! Vegetables are : 1) okay - green beans, carrots 2) dodgy - avocados 3) heck to the no, woman - broccoli.
So I've been franken-fruiting things up, a bit. She likes kivicado, and with open & loving arms embraces banoccoli. (Banana! Is there anything you can't fix? Yes. See next paragraph.)
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Segue to: my back.
I threw my back out Satruday morning. If a word liike "threw" can escribe the intense, awful, searing reality that jumped on me as I was gently setting Amoryn down for a wiggle, at about 9 am. I had to call Pat to get him to come straight home from the chiropractor's; I couldn't pick the girl up. Things worsened by 11:30, and I couldn't walk, get dressed, sit, stand, lay, or get into the car to go the chiro by myself. Thank god for the man. He's been home until 10:30 this morning, when he had a meeting he couldn't ditch. I apologize now toanyone who has ever had back pain & not experienced heartfelt sympathy from myself - holy hells. It was as bad as the early stage of labor, except that labour had breaks and a clear goal - baby. The back pain? Aieeee. My sacrum was out of alignment & my whole lower back froze up. I am much improved, can sit gingerly for brief periods of time, can walk, dress myself, climb stairs, & sort of wrangle Am.
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Segue to: Sewing Project
Yes, I am making a bridesmaid's gown for Coreen. For Saturday. It's going to be quite nice, I think, & should only require a leetle bit of duct tape to hold it together. (I won't use the staple gun, no. I promise. ALthough it did work very well for a bed skirt.) The dress would have been done by now, but I felt much better laying prone & groaning all weekend, thank you very much. I love deadlines :)
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Speaking of Dressing:
Lululemon pants are not just "just workout pants". They are the pant equivalent of a wonderbra for your butt. How do I knoe this? I accidentally put the on backwards, & had my arse magicaly smoothed flat & my belly pooge was contorted into a high, taut configuration. Weird as hell. Happened Monday, when getting dressed was still rough.
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Segue to: Amoryn is Awake Now
Yes, the girl is awake, I'm going to go & rescue her bear from her loving clutches.
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*- a random smattering could also describe the foods currently present on my shirt - pureed carrot - left shoulder. Rice cereal - right forearm. Broccoli smooge - midriff. Etc.

How To Make Ikea More Exciting

On Friday, Sarah & I took Amoryn to Ikea for the first time. There was lots of exciting.
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We were a small caravan - Am & I in the Jeep (carseat friendly), Sarah in her truck (shelf-loading friendly).
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Ikea, is of course, very exciting in & of itself. Where else in the world can you get a 50 cent hot dog & a shelf named Udovar, designed by a Swede, built in Lithuania from recyled banana peels?
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I needed a couple things, & ended up with tow rugs, some shelves, a big old cookie jar, & various Ikea odds & sods. Low-grade excitement.
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Sarah got an Expedit shelving unit (three boxes! oi!), and some other little boxy units. More exciting - her living room, yea it shall be reclaimed from the high tide of clutter.
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Amoryn looked around, had a bottle, and napped. She was very good-humored about the part where we had to unload everything in the back of Sar's truck to fit the new Ikea stuff in, and she cooed happily to the dark, empty parking lot.
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We'd driven from the back forty of the parking lot over to the store so Sar could get her last three boxes.
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This is when Ikea got terribly exciting. And I mean terrible.
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We accidentally locked Amoryn into the car.* Keys in the ignition. Vehicle running. Amoryn getting increasingly pissed about being stuck in the car.
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Sarah & I promptly lost our minds. We ran around the car trying the doors & pawing at the windows like we were junkie squirrels after some heroin peanuts inside the car. My cell phone was a) dead & b) inside the car anyways, so thank goodness that Sar had hers. We scraped together enough focus to figure we should call someone.
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"AMA? Oh my god, I don't have my card, what's their number..."
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"Maybe we should break the window? Oh my god, but she's looking at us, & I don't want to get glass in her face.."
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"Call Pat, oh my god. " In my frenzied state, I figured a cool, calm, collected man-brain might have a suggestion.
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Pat was downtown, so it would take like, an hour & a half for him to get to Ikea with the spare keys. He had no suggestions.
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We tried to get AMA's number. Information was No Help At All.
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We said screw it, & called 911.
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"Yes, we've locked the baby in the car. The car is running. The baby is safely secured and while seriously pissed off, is in no distress. Yes, the car is running. Yes, the baby is fine. She couldn't be screaming that loud if she wasn't fine."
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"They're sending the fire department. Oh my god."
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Pat calls back - call the fire department, he says - they do it for free. Done & done. Although I would gladly re-mortgage the house, to get my poor mad baby out of the car.
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Sirens start. Oh my god.
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Sirens drawing closer.
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Really loud sirens. And flashy lights.
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"Look baby, there's a fire truck! There's another fire truck! Thank god!"
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Six firemen & two firetrucks later, they jimmied the car open. As soon as the firemen clustered around the car, Amoryn stopped screaming in rage and watched with fascination.
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The captain was very nice, & talked to me about how his boys used to lock themselves in all the time. "Monkeys!", he chuckled.
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I tried not to dissolve into tears of relief & gratitude. (Sar said the same thing.) Amoryn was gooing & blinking & smiling at all the nice firemen in their reflective gear. I should've been more coherent & said thank you & found out what station they were at so I could take them some cookies, but all I could do was clutch at my completely unconcerned daughter & the car keys. Thank god it was not 30 above, or 30 below, and it was dark out. We called Pat twice to let him know Amoryn was out & fine.
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We then drove to the downtown core, so that the man could see that the baby was okay.
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The parking was ABYSMAL, but the baby was adorable & charmed all of his conference people. Then she fell asleep.
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Then we ordered pizza & went home.
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The End. Except that I'm going to get a set of car keys surgically implanted into my wrist.
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*- If you promise to be non-judgemental, & call, I will tell you the story.

Roll Count! Every cat, fall out!

If I could teach the cats one command, I would be very tempted to make it a roll-call command.

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I've been painting the basement bedroom, which makes me very happy. So far I've accomplished one coat of flesh-toned primer, & two coats of "Cleveland Brown". (Which is very much nicer than the first thing I thought of when I heard the name, thank you very much.*)

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Of course, the bedroom is an intoxicatingly perilous shambles, with everything huddling in the center of the room.

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And of course, the cats find this so! very! exciting! It's like one ran to find the other two, meowing "OMFG! Chek it owt!". Because they are all in there, perched on various verboten surfaces. Like my ladder, or the ledge I just painted, or the top of the big tippy pile of bedding. You know, fun cat places.

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And of course, trying the get all three of the damn cats out of the room, then trying to confirm that all three monsters are gone, well. Usually there has been a little bit of shrieking to help them understand that they should leave. And to find all three in the house, post shriek, can make a person feel a little crazy. And like shrieking more.

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Of course, cat-nip is suspiciously similar to roll-call. As is the sound of a tuna can opening. Hmmm. Perhaps I have been approaching this the wrong way...

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*- If you didn't think of it, you really don't want to know.**

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** - It's not like millinery, people.***

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*** - All right. But don't say that I didn't warn you... (thankfully, there are no images) http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=cleveland+steamer

Are they really so innocent?

Boobs. Roughly half the population has, or is going to have, boobs.

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They're fun, they're roundish, there's all sorts of things you can do with & to them. But I thought that most men over the age of 22 or so understood what a good push-up bra can do.

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Maybe not...

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The man just sent this email to me & his (male) coworkers:

"...Go into the gallery for today's sunshine girl, compare photos with pushup equipment vs not.
pretty dramatic"

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This is who he's talking about:

"SUNshine Girl Jami is working her way towards a degree in social work. The 19-year-old student enjoys exercising and reading in her spare time. (Jason Franson Photo) "

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Good for her. Education is important. I admit, I hope she loses the chaps before grad, but hey. We all needed to find ourselves in college. I give her props for not getting augmentation.

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I sent this reply:

"Oh my dears. I hate to tell you this - but there is a reason that women will pay more for a bra than a pair of shoes. I guarantee you that this woman,

(from Victoria's Secret) without that bra & a team of professionals, would not look like this. And she's just wearing a mid range push-up bra, not the expensive extreme-plunge long-line ultra-gel push-up death-star bra. But you guys are in sales - you should understand marketing. And really, when your steak arrives on a plate, is it "false advertising" or "presentation"?"
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I admit, I'm moderately shocked that he foudn this worhty of note. I'm also going to make a point of not taking my bra off in front of him, either. With, okay. Without, okay. But the transition? It's like the magician taking the rabbit out of the hat! (Sort of, anyways.)

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Really. Are any women out there surprised by the boob transformation?

Hi Flickr.

Flickr says "Kumusta, Kourtney. I haven't seen you in a while. And now you know how tp greet people in Tagalog."

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Thanks Flickr... what is Tagalog? Anyways, I've been busy. In no particular order...

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In the garden,

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which really looks great,

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with company, which was fun,

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painting rooms the same color as my skin, (just the primer is this color),

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hanging out with Amoryn,

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who pretends to be a plumber,

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is abducted by her father,

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jumps,

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eats kiwi,

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and just fell asleep in my arms. We'll have to catch up more, later, Flickr. How do I say good-bye in Tagalog?

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Flickr looks sheepish, scuffles foot. "I only greet people."

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Ohhh... you say hello, and I say goodbye. I get it. You might be looking at a lawsuit there, Flickr.

Delusions of Mellow

Every now & again, I have to face the fact that I am not as laid back as I try & tell myself I am.

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Yesterday, it was the fact that the DVD's were NOT in alphabetical order. Again.

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I mean, I can live with individuals letters being scrambled. We're not using the Dewey Decimal system, yo. But Kingdom of Heaven SHOULD not be by Star Wars. A Christmas Story does NOT belong by Moulin Rouge.

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It's almost as bad as the man writing in my address book IN INK. INK! INK! AGH!

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So When Do We Change Her Oil?

Well, after a busy summer on the road, we're finally home for the foreseeable (planned) future. And frankly, I am wallowing in having nothing in particular to do. Apart from trying to liberate the house from built-up cat-hair, find a baby-sitter, clean the bathrooms, catch up on all of the inane projects I've got*, sew a bridesmaid's gown, water the damn balcony pots, and oh yes, watch Amoryn.

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She is growing like a weed, incidentally. She loves her mush, I tell ya'. Haven't weighed her in two weeks, but last time she was 15 lb 12 oz. I'll update about that on Thursday.

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Amoryn is also quite the little traveller - she's covered about 9,000 km in her first four & a half months, and she's a great traveller. The sheer volume has been a bit of a drag, as there was nothing even remotely approaching a schedule when we finally got home. That's okay, I think we're coming along as far as that goes. As well, stopping for feeds has become more complex with the addition of mush & the need to avoid coating the interior of the Jeep with said mush. (I mean, I try to avoid getting myself covered in mush as a matter of routine, but it's far easier for me to change a shirt than to try & expunge mush from upholstry.)

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I foresee quite a few roadtrips into the fall & winter, but I'll post about that later. She's getting fidgety (almost lunch time- yay!! boob & mush!!!!!!), so we're off to the kitchen!

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*- The pics from both our trip tp Asia & our trip to Philly & NY, NY are both printed out & now reside in albums. Next up, wedding photos!

It's Very Good

It's a good feeling, to know that you have the kind of best friend that you can call in the middle of the day, ask inane questons about raisins, and get answers.

(The answer turned out to be currants, actually.)

10 Things That I Did Not Expect

(For the enjoyment of moms & the edification of those who have not changed their lives in this particular fashion.)

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As Amoryn approaches five months, here are ten things that I did not expect:

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10) With the introduction of mush to Am's diet, poo has become very much like peanut butter.

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9) I love the man even more all the time, especially when I walk into the room & find him changing Amoryn & singing bastardized Xmas carols. (Jingle poo? Santa Bum? I'll let you imagine the lyrics.)

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8) Babies are funny. Really really funny. Especiaaly when they sneeze mush all over the place.

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7) Babies are disgusting. Especially when they sneeze mush all over the place.

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6) Completely unrestrained existence. When she sneezes, it's ah-SPLAT! When she's happy, it's beams of sunshine with dancing angels. And of course, when she's mad, she is MAD.

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5) I am completely incapable of being embarassed by my boobs any more. I guess that's a side effect of giving birth in a room full of people & being a food source.

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4) I miss wearing jewelry - esepcially my murano glass necklace. I don't think Am could break it; but she bashes her little head against me, & I don't want her to have bead shaped impressions in her skull.

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3) Smelling like maple syrup. Hello, fenugreek, you help my milk, & I smell like Aunt JeMomma. Where's the pancakes?

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2) How very sweet & precious an uninterupted shower is, particularily when I have a chance to shave my legs.

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1) How unutterably, unbearably sweet my baby is. All the time.

Well, Really.

Why on earth does every child's toy &/or apparatus that requires batteries have one teeny tiny screw holding the little battery door shut? I mean, I need to break out the glasses repair kit, these screws are so tiny. Why not have bigger screws that a person could undo with a fingernail or a table knife? And there's no way to do it with out un-doing the screws, either. Gosh. What's the big deal? Are they afraid that some one will take them apart & eat the batteries? Because who would...
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Oh.
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Right. Babies & toddlers would.
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Never mind. (I promise, I'll get better at this whole parenting schtick, I will.)

Hey There!

So! It's been a busy week or so. I have several (okay, like two) blog entries planned, but they are waiting on various things...
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So really, I have nothing too serious to say. Amoryn is splendid, & adores her big cousin, Zsjena, who spends as much time as possible carting her about. Zsjena has been in day camp this week, so life has been a little closer to the standard (high point of day = Amoryn spends long enough in Jumperoo for me to vacuum entire main floor vs. highpoint of day = the zoo! with the bears that are wrestling! and biting each other!). Next week, big plans.
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The man is well.
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The yard is gorgeous.
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The cats are fairly well behaved. -ish.
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The weather is nice. Today.
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I'm hanging out at Sarah's, BABY-FREE!, omg, and yes. I have nothing to say to you, Internet, I used all of my babble on Sar. And on the nice security guard who took the parking ticket that we shouldn't have gotten & promised to quash it. Sadly, he did not use the word "quash".
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I really have nothing to say.... Life is good. I is happy. You can has cheezburger.
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Oo, pizza's ready, gotta run! I promise a more sensible, narrative, funny post when I've got more distractions around.

Guest Post

The man sent this last night, cc'ing me. So now I'm cc'ing you, the internet.

Dear Mr Prime Minister
Our baby was born on april 4, now 4 months old.
We just received our first check from the child care benefit program, $300 for 3 months back pay.
My wife found the jumperoo in the attached pic for $100 today, Amoryn loves her new gizmo.
Thanks again for a good program.

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ps; the other $200 went for popcorn and beer, oh how i hate to be an Alberta stereotype.

Amoryn's Teeth Are Going To Kick My Ass

They sort of are, already. While no pearly whites have broke surface yet, I can consistently rely on waking up with a scarlet cheeked baby at least two days a week. Three, if I'm lucky.
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I know that doesn't sound like much, but as those teeth move up, down, & all around, they punish my poor baby.
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Still desn't sound like much? The hurt her mouth, so she cries, & is fussy. And no matter what blend of teething toys, gripe water, & baby tylenol, there comes a point in the evening where Am is hungry. But her mouth hurts. So she doesn't want to nurse. But she's hungry. And even the last time this happened, when I had tried to give her tylenol before the screaming hysteria, the screaming hysteria & the evil ourobous of baby hungry -> no nursing, because mouth hurts -> Baby Hungry -> No Nursing, Because MOUTH HURTS -> BABY HUNGRY!!!!
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The man asked when babies are done teething, & I said "Six. There's six year old molars." I'm hoping that I was being sarcastic & doomsday-ish, instead of total reality-ish. I'm too afraid to check the internet & find out though.

"Washing The Hedgehog" Used To Mean Something Dirty...

Hi there! I am Amoryn's Hedgehog. I am very important around here. My squeaky nose can keep Amoryn from crying. I even went to British Columbia and back with the family. I fell out of the stroller lots, but Amoryn's mom was nice and always picked me up again (my legs are too short for me to climb very well). She did start muttering about "washing" & "germs", after a while.

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Why yes, actually. Hedgehogs are noted for their sensitive skin.

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Hm. That looks interesting...

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Ahh.... the spa. How nice.

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Delightful...

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I said relaxation massage! What is this?

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Too spa! Too spa!

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Ah... fresh air...

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Guys? It's getting dark out here...

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Guys? I'm kind of lonely... Why am I still in the kitchen? What do you mean, "damp?"

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Ahhh sunlight on mah belly...

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Huzzah! All dry, & back in action!

(Let's not do that again, okay?)

Balancing Act

I used to be really terrible at managing my money. Until I developed my recipe card system, I would occasionally screw up & miss something obvious, & end up behind on something. And my budget was tight enough that one missed payment in one month would screw everything up for the next quarter, I swear. I would castigate myself thoroughly, feel like I was never going to accomplish anything, and tell myself that I was an inept fool. The only way I could get out of that particular funk would be to vow not to let it happen again, & then go & clean my house. The recipe card system has worked quite well for me; haven't had any problems in years & years!

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Until we went on vacation... I've been on mat leave for four months or so now, & the days, well. I'm usually sure what day of the week it is - that way we know how close to the weekend & increased Daddy-Time! we are. The number of the day? Well. I'll check in on that every so often, but really, it isn't that important. Amoryn is sublimely unconcerned with whether it's the 14th or the 23rd.

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So, I lost track of dates, & one payment went a little wonky (but it's fine now! Really!). I fixed it, felt all crappy, and thought "I can't even clean because Am is sleeping." I was beginning to think the same old mantra of self-loathing. I looked down at Amoryn sleeping in my arms, and I forgave myself.

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Because really, I'm doing my most important job well. Amoryn is thriving. The weeds can get big, & the payments can get wonky*, and until Am can crawl, the vacuuming** can go hang. I've got smaller things to thing about.

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(Want to see more? Here's the Flickr link again

http://www.flickr.com/photos/7589857@N04/

I need to figure out how to reinsert the link on the sidebar.)

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*-but not often! NO! Just this once, I'm giving myself a pass.

**- Until then, vacuuming once a week, with frequent sweeping, shall suffice.

What We Did On Our Summer Vacation

All right, first off, I have to say that it seems a bit of a misnomer to say thatI had a summer vacation. Partially because at the end of this week, I'm heading to the home country for two weeks of family & lake-filled fun. So the past tense seems innappropriate. Also, my work is now more of an all-the-time thing that I can't leave unattended. Really, it was more of a business trip for me. And, instead of a laptop, cel phone, & SecurID as my primary tools, I had the playpen, bumbo, baby moniotrs, hedgehog, gripe water, diaper bag... etc

But it was really good. Don't get me wrong; I'm simply trying to clarify labels in my own head. And on the internet.

So, bearing in mind title adjustments, here's what went down.

We headed for the sunset bright & early on Canada Day, the middle day of the long weekend, and a great day for travel. We had a lot of stuff. I was secretly afraid that I had forgotten something pivotal, & at the same time, brought an entire host of useless items. I was imagining conversations like this:
"So, the diapers were too bulky, but you brought the lemon zester?"
"Yeah, I had this great idea for a campfire trout that needed lemon zest..."
"We're not camping, you know. And we'll probably eat salmon & scallops & halibut on the coast."
(small voice) "Oh. Then I guess I could have left the lemons at home."

Turns out, it was not so bad. I forgot my rx shades, but had my hat, so all was not lost. I also packed some things that we didn'yt use, but that was more the weather's fault. As in, we would've gone to the beach, but it was nine frillion degrees, & while in the past, I would've laughed, carelessly slathered on SPF 50, & headed out, my baby, she does not roll like that. So the sun awning & beach towels became academic acts of optimism.

What? Which beach? Where did we go with all of our stuff? Riiiiiiight....

We drove to Victoria, via Salmon Arm. Am got to met her Great-Gramma (or Gramma-Great), and we had a really nice visit. Highlights were: Gramma feeding Am bottles, generally hanging out, & a drive up a mountain on a logging road that was so rough I was afraid we'd be in the emergency room explaining how the baby got shaken-baby in her carseat. So I held her little melon between my palms, confined my crazy to the backseat (Ack we are going 7 km an hour!), and we all enjoyed the view. Except Am, who totally went to sleep. But Gramma & the man & I liked it!

Victoria was grand, mostly. Dummy me forgot to note that AC was needed in the hotel room, so what did we get? We got a good reason not to hang around the hotel much. We saw the downtown, the Empress, the Undersea Gardens, the Sunday Market, the Butterfly gardens, the Butchart Gardens, the ocean, several beaches, some tide pools, the wharf, and the brother & sister-in-law's new house & wedding celebration. It was all very beautiful, especially the butterfly garden, the Butchart Gardens, & the wedding party. Also, I may not be the craziest Mrs. Robinson - Liisa, the newest, will see my fish phobia & raise me an intense fear of flying things, including butterflies & birds. Ha! Notable moments: nursing Am in the rose garden of the Empress, general morning enjoyment of Am, taking Am swimming, the Bear Mtn golf course, and all the botanical things to admire. ("Wow! Is that ever gorgeous! What is it, do you know?" "Doesn't matter, it'd just die at home." "Right. But it sure is pretty!")

We headed out from Vic on the hottest day of the summer, it seemed, & drove to Osoyoos. Gorgeous drive, beastly heat, darling little good-travelling girl; huzzah for A/C cars fruit stands. Osoyoos was glorious, and air conditioned; we stayed in the Spirit Ridge condos on the Nk'Mip winery. Fan-freaking-tastic, although hot.

AndthenwewenttoKasloandAinsworthHotSpringsandthenwewenthomeandit washotbutniceand Am's awake now, gotta run, bye!

PS:typingonehandedwithlefthandsorryfortypos.

Fleeting Thought

If you've ever sold pot or pumped breastmilk, you have a lot more appreciation of how big an ounce really is.

(Holiday update in a while, but it was great!)

I'm the Bad Man.

Okay. So. Heart rate still a little elevated. Breathe.

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Suki just scratched Amoryn.

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To give you some context, it wasn't like the evil Siamese in "Lady & The Tramp"; it was because he was trying to jump onto me as I was carrying her upstairs to put her down for her morning nap. But still! He knows that it's Not Okay To Jump On Me When I Have The Baby. Or at least I thought his little brain had made that connection, since it has been etablished since prior to Am's birth.

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(Suki's pointy little feet landing *bwonk* on my belly in the last trimester? Not So Cool, Dude.)

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Apparently the lack of affection has finally driven him to desperate measures. So, after following me from the basement to the main floor to the upstairs stairwell, he decided to ignore my vague promises of "Later, Buddy", and take matters into his own paws.

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Unfortunately, Amoryn's head was in the way of his plan. Now, it's not a deep & bloody scratch; it's one of those scratches that leaves a raised welt, but no permanent mar, or even broken skin. But it's long, and runs from under her eye to her ear, and it! woke! her! up!!!! In a bad way! And then I had to Bactine it! And that woke her again & made her cry! And it was all very bad!

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Including the part where I dumped Suki unceremoniously down, & then smacked him once I reached the top of the stairs, after looking at Am's little scratch. And it wasn't a 'measured punishment' smack; it was more of a 'wrath of mamma' smite. I smote my cat.

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So. I am the bad man, in that I hit my cat, when all he wanted was some love. (He's so full of love! Has lots of love to give! Will love anyone! Everyone! I'd say he's a kitty whore, but really, he gives it away for free.) However, he acted wrongly (something about that looks weird, but meh, english majors, you email me & tell me why), and this is the thrid strike for ....

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...DUN, DUN-DUN DUN...

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...having him declawed. Which is yes, I know, really cutting off the first joint of his toes. The other strikes? Scratching at the furniture. Gratuitously. And scratching the bejeebers out of thighs, when he should be a lap cat & then realizes, no, he's a highly strung ninja-cat, & must per-toing! spring away to fight the evil powers of the neighbour's weed whipper, or something.

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And having the cats declawed (they're going to toe my line! hahaha!) is bad, I know, but the other options for the other two were:

1)trying to recover a $6K couch set with the hide of one Siamese-Manx cross

2)euthanasia for furniture, paper product protection

3)a nice drive out to the countryside. In a Soprano's kind of way.

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But I feel much worse about it with Suki, because I know his motives are pure, it's just that his little brain isn't that big, and really, he's my little buddy. He was my pal in Bowness, & kept me from being so lonely. (Before I got Suki, I would spend an extra hour or two in the drugstore on the way home, just to avoid the empty apartment. I would do that almost every night.)

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So it seems like a real betrayal to have his toes taken away, especially as he's such an athletic cat. But! *insert mamma glower* He scratched my baby! And really, with no front claws, we would be more willing to entertain Dr. Scratchyl/Mr. Purr in our laps, so he would have less of a love deficit.

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I'll see what the man says when he gets home. I'm going to go & shower & then sew in the basement & wait for the cable guy.

Rats? That's new.

If you know me, you may know that I occasionally lapse into fits of sentimentality, bordering on or wallowing in tears. These are usually triggered by National Geographic stories about horses, or varying other types of schlock entertainment about horses.

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To date, the lowest form of entertainment has been the movie Alexander. I totally misted up when Al met Bucephalus. And I out & out bawled when ol' Bucky died. Thankfully, the man was asleep on the couch at the time; I didn't have to explain myself. And yes, I watched the whole movie. In my self-defense, I was sick with a cold & couldn't comfort myself with NyQil. And I was all pregnant-lady hormonal too.

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Last night, Pat was watching tv. It was some kind of "news around the world show". I wandered off when they started discussing how Indonesia has been rebuilt since the wave, and came back in time for the article on the giant African rats that are being trained to sniff out land mines. (Almost typed land-mimes. Now there's a funny segue... wouldn't need rats to find them, though.) It was pretty interesting - they're far more efficient than other methods, etc etc.

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And then it hit me. A wave of mush. Emotional mush.

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Do you think it was the images of the small African children playing happily, now that there are no landmines in their fields?

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No.
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It was the fact that, because the rats are nocturnal, the handlers put sunscreen on their ears. Their wee ratty ears would sunburn, so they put sunscreen on them! How noble, the rat, sniffing along, endangering his life & limbs to flag landmines, and they sunscreen his ears for him. Thinking about it, I should feel cynical, because really, wouldn't he be better off in a little UV resistant bomb suit? But no. Waves of tenderness & schmaltz.

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Yes, I know I'm bonkers. But look! These are special rats, African giant pouch rats, and they're sort of cute. Unlike the norwegian ugly rats, or the creepy white lab rats.

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Here's the Nat Geog news article (also featuring bees):

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2004/02/0210_040210_minerats.html

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Here's the organization:

http://www.apopo.org/newsite/content/index.htm

(Aww! Their ears!)