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!)

In Loving Color

I was drifting off to sleep the other night, mulling life. (This is how I accelerate the unwind/sleep process; I self-ponticate until I get so bored with myself that I drift off.) And I was trying to figure out the inane question "How My Life Has Changed". It's like "What I Did On My Summer Vacation", but not. At first, I approached the standard questions.
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"Do I Feel Different?" Yeeees. Although I feel pretty close, physically, to my old self, with much stronger arms.
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"Am I A Better Person?" Huh. Maybe? Maybe not? I didn't think I was that bad before. Now, I am mostly the same, with more occasional crazy* slipping out.

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*Eg: I got mad because the tin of tea fell off of the shelf in the pantry door & onto my head for like, the 16th time. So I picked it up, marched over to the door, & flung it into the backyard. Then I forgot about it. Until the fateful day when the man was out weeding. "I found this in the yard by the fence." I blushed & explained. "Why didn't you just move it to a different shelf after the first time?" "I never thought of it, that's why." Also, I am crazy around the edges.

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"Do You Have Any Regrets?" Der, of course; I regret not having bacon for breakfast, man. But, instead of dwelling on my bacon-less morning, I vow to have bacon, soon, & relish it thoroughly. I try to apply this to everything in my life. I also regret the horrible gurgling noise that just came out of Amoryn's diaper, & the smell that is even now wafting upwards. Think of bacon! Think of bacon!
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***brief break***
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"What Are You Most Thankful For?" Well, the wonderfully engineered poo-containing qualities of Huggies are close to the top of the list. The top two, though, are my big sweet baby, & my big sweet man. I'm also very glad and very very thankful that Amoryn is as sweet as she is & she's healthy as a rapidly growing miniature horse. That emotion becomes even stronger whenever I hear or read of others who aren't as lucky - this isn't schadenfreude, people; this is just recognition of how very lucky the man & I have been with our girl. If you need something to wake you up & make you realize just how much you have in life, I suggest reading the very courageous & heartbreaking blog of a mother of preemie twins, who loses one. Email me if you want the link - beautiful, heartwrenching.

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"What's The Worst Part?" Hm. The first thing I thought of is the dehydrating scent of tarragon, day three. But that's something I could inflinct on myself at any time, not particularily linked to motherhood. I think the worst part is trying not to be too hard on myself - I get tired, I get impatient, I cry... then I feel guilty for not being stronger, for not relishing every single minute I have with my girl, even if it is minute 1,432 of Howling Inconsolable Purple Faced Rage. Or I feel bad, because the man often bears the brunt of the crazy, and what happened to his regular wife? Who is this evil harridan?

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"What's The Most Irritating?" Endless reminders Not To Shake The Baby. I know, I know! The books, the magazines, the newsletters, the articles, the pamphlets... they all say not to. And I won't! And I tell my sitters not to! And I'm feeling guilty, just because I've recieved so much NTSTB literature, it must be something they think I could do! Ack!

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"What's The Best Thing?" Being a parent, duh; the answer is Amoryn! Amoryn! Amoryn! is the best! The next best part - watching the man be a dad. That rocks.

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Then my brain was all "Meh, enough, change the channel." And I was just drifting along, & I realized that it's like Amoryn has brought a new color into my life. My love & hopes & fears have changed how the world looks to me. It's all different now. Try to imagine a world where you hadn't noticed blue before. Then one day, whammo! There's blue everywhere! There's blue bowls, blue jeans, little blue flowers out in the yard. There's blue on the tv, in the quilt pattern, and blue in the shadows. And then there's the sky, man, my god, the sky. It's almost as mind blowing as my baby's blue eyes.

.

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That's "How My Life Has Changed".

Oh, all right,

I admit, every two weeks or so isn't the best track record for posting. But! My girl! She smiles, she's fun, she's sweet. As her dad says, "I can confidently say that she is the cutest baby since the beginning of time."

(And I reliably post pics every week or so, so really, who cares what I have to say? All we wants is baby pictures, prescious...)

Want some? Here's the Flickr link:

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

And I've even found a site for posting videos of Amoryn - Vimeo - still not entirely sure how it works. And I wouldn't bother trying to watch them if you're in a dial-up world...

http://www.vimeo.com/user:208295/clips

That's all for now, going to go & do fun things with my girl!

Really.

The most astounding event of the day:

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Amoryn fell asleep at midnight, and I really believed her & went to bed myself at 12:30. She slept until 6:40 am. The man's alarm clock went off* before she did! Yay!
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Especially since she's being going through a phase/growth spurt where she howls in rage about many, many things when she is awake. Coupled with wanting food every 2 1/2 - 3 hours, with at least a zillion minutes (it seemed) of howling, angry, gum-bared, tongue-vibrating rage before, during, & after each meal. (I know maaaaany mothers have/had it much worse. I'm just trying to explain how exciting this sleep was.) (And Gramma Jeanne, who had 7 babies, did remark that she didn't remember any of her babies being like that.) (Of course, that was a while ago, and after the second or third baby, would you really be focused enough to remember? With the sleep deprivation & mutlitasking & all?) (And yes, we run through the hungry? dirty? burpy? farty? hot? bored? tired? routine. AND NONE OF IT, NOT EVEN GRIPE WATER, WORKS. The girls's just mad, is all, & has to let it out.) (But I digress.)

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Anyways! My beautiful girl gave me six hours of sleep! All in a row!

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We celebrated by having a nap together.

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(We don't co-sleep. Amoryn sleeps by herself nights in her crib, & days in her playpen or swing. But some mornings, forspecial, we nap together in the big bed.)

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*Sign me up for schadenfreude**, but DAMN, it felt good to watch somebody else get out of bed, because they had to, before I had to. Hahaha.

**scha·den·freu·de (noun) satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else's misfortune.

Definitive Proof

I have a little girl.

The serger thread removes all doubt.

Hee Hee Hee!

I'm just downloading & organizing pics* to make a real, well written post. But until that arrives, I find this intensely entertaining:

(Imagine then as two frames in a video clip. Or like those pages from coloring books that you cut out & layer & then flip through real fast, to make a cartoon.)

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I may have spent too much time in the sun today.

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*Also, the camera is either the electronics version of Jesus Christ, or the cat-bath didn't hurt it. Either way, good. Although I'm not looking forward to meeting the electronic Pontuis Pilate. I bet he's a toaster.)

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And there are new pics on Flickr, see link on sidebar.

Oh Dear.

There has been an unfortunate vase/water/digital camera/cat incident, & I'm horribly afraid for both the camera & the cat... there can't be that much technology in the bottom 2.5mm of a camera, right? So sitting in a puddle of water won't hurt it, right? Ha. Haha.

This is where I feel I should begin wringing my hands, '50s housewife style, and saying "Dear, oh dear, WHAT is your father going to say when he gets home from work..."

The camera is currently drying on a pile of soft napkins. The cat is MIA, & I didn't actually witness the carnage, but we all know who likes to chew the tulip heads off of their stems...

Heads Up, Expectant Moms

Be poised, always, with vigilance, to click "BACK" or "CLOSE" when visiting a new website in a serious search for information. As I have learned before (to my chagrin, regret, & horror*), the Internet can show you many things. In particular, lactation porn. Ewww.

Not that I actually saw anything; but as the site loaded, I could tell from the banners etc that it was going to be one of "those" sites. So I clicked "Back!" "Close!" "Ack!", and was so scrambled that I forgot what the heck I was looking for in the first place.

*Years ago, I heard a teenage boy use a piece of slang I was unfamiliar with. My curiosity wouldn't let it go, & after I had polled all my girlfriends, I asked Google. Google could have just told me, but nooooo, it had to show me. *shudder*. Luckily, Liana introduced me to Urban Dictionary.com, which is a used-compiled dictionary of slang. There are many, many, many things described there, but at least there are minimal images.

Body Fluids Trifecta / "I'm Going To Have To Wash That"

Sadly, despite her best efforts, Amoryn did not win, place, or show in the Body Fluids Trifecta held yesterday. There was an initial strong performance with the suprise "Pee on Momma's Pants" move, executed with precision on the living room floor. This was followed by the equally unexpected "Spit a Mouthful of Undigested Milk into Momma's Nursing Bra". However, perhaps due to momma's increased vigilance, or Amoryn's lack of focus (she is only a month old), she neglected to spit up on any non-designated surfaces, thus failing to complete the third portion of the challenge.

Amoryn does win an Honorable Mention for her drive to soil laundry - she blew through three freshly laundered ensembles (two Amoryn's, one momma's).

Stay tuned for further tales of Sporting Baby Excellence.

One Month Ago...

One month ago, I was just getting into my bathtub, to remain there until 6 pm or so. While part of my brain knew that I'd have a baby to hold in my arms by the week's end (induction had been slated for Friday), a large portion of my brain was convinced that she was never leaving, and she would complete high school via braille correspondence through the skin of my belly.

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Turns out, Amoryn showed up that very day. The festivities commenced just after I got out of the tub, had a snack, & spoke to the midwives.

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"No, nothing. Maybe the odd twinge, but they've been happening all along. I'm going to go & have a nap, & then supper."

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I learned differently.... I laid down for the nap, & wow! Contraction city. Four & three quarter hours later, we had a baby. Huzzah! My darling girl had arrived!

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And with her arrival, she brought a lot with her. Some of which is an interesting array of noises, many that translate to the adult ear as "Waaa". (When really, it's "waa", "Wah", "WAAH!", etc.) I've gotten better at understanding, but I've also developed this list to check & diagnose issues:

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1) Diaper? Fusses, howls? Initial sniff test, peer in diaper, change diaper.

2) Hungry? Howls? Mouth open wide? Binky being rejected? Attempts to latch to father's arm? Offer boob.

3) Gassy? Which end?

3.a) Burpy? Fussy, fidgety, flaily, hungry but still savage despite breast? Burp in upright position.

3.b) Farty? Fussy, fidgety, flaily, stiff belly? Gently massage lower belly, bicycle legs, & lay baby on side. (Adult also has option of laying on side.)

4) Overtired? Fussy, fidgety, flaily, glaringly wide open eyes? Walk, stairs, dance, sing, celing fan, bathroom fan, stroller ride, car ride...

5) Bored? This is new. Still in early diagnosis. Propping upright seems to help.

6) Imaginary Goblins Pinching Baby? Tough one. The IG disappear once adult shows up, but takes time for poor baby to relax. Poor baby is also aggravated by misdiagnosing 1)-5).

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Not to say that all Amoryn does is cry & fuss, but if the crying & fussing isn't dealt with quickly, it escalates, and that makes it hard to savor the deliciousness that is our little mumbley girl.

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I get the biggest kick out of watching her wake up. (So far, anyways.) She screws up her face, stretches, & waves her arms, & in general, channels EXACTLY how I feel about waking up.

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She loves sunshine & ceiling fans. She is taking baths on advisement - the wailing has reduced and she might even deign to enjoy one in the future. She watches things more now, & smiles & chuckles in her sleep, and is starting to make eye contact. We're still waiting for the first full eye contact & smile, but that's okay. Judging by the sweetness of the sleeping smile, the real mccoy is going to knock my socks off & reduce me to a gibbering fool of a mama, trying to get her to do it again.

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I'm already a bit of a gibbering fool, truth be told. She's pretty hard to resist; Am's used her super baby powers to hypnotize parents, grandparents, cousins, & aunties alike. Even Pat's bachelor coworker seemed fascinated.

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All in all, she's fantastic. I wouldn't trade her for a million years, or even 8 hours of sleep all in a row. And for me, that's really saying something.

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I think she's waking up; gotta go & catch the show!

Raving Success!

I am enjoying a small moment of success, in that we a) had our morning nap, then Amoryn had her morning feed, then her morning bath (with only 1 howl! wow!), currently being followed by a post bath nap for the girl...

And then I had a shower! And breakfast! And cooked some stuff for supper! And it's only three in the afternoon! I feel like Tenzig Norgay, with Amoryn as a very small Sir Edmund Hillary. Of course, this glow of success is already being set up for disaster because the next stage is.... THE GROCERY STORE.... (cue ominous music). After she eats & is changed, of course.

I feel fairly optimistic; she had a growth spurt/meltdown day on Sat, so she is more likely to sleep well today & less likely to meltdown. Not a sure thing, of course, nothing I'd take to Vegas, but enough of a probability that I feel safe in attempting to go & get milk & muffin tins.

There she is now! Wish us luck!

Hey Internet, I've got a new girl now.

It's not that I love you any less, Internet, it's just that I love her more. The cats are getting used to it, I know you will too.

Amoryn Opal, now three weeks old! She's got a belly button & everything! She also has a killer case of baby acne, poor thing, so we may slow down on the photos, just foor her poor dignity.

As for all the standard how am I/Amoryn questions, for brevity's sake, allow me to post from emails:

Q: Who, what, where, when? How big, how long, how long?

A: Amoryn Opal, born at 11:28 pm April 4. (8lbs 8ozs, 21" long). Foothills Hospital, 4 3/4hours.

Q: ...what the phonics for pronouncing her name ...

A: ...it's A-mor-in. Or AM-rin, or the little squeaky wheel, who gets what she wants when she wants it - or at least, she gets what she wants, once we figure out what she wants.

Q: Pictures?

A: http://www.flickr.com/photos/7589857@N04/sets/72157600052068210/

Q: How am I feeling?
A: Started off with " Things are going well in the land of the sleep deprived;", moved to "but has really knocked me for a loop. The midwives had me on bedrest for the first 4 days, & I'm still pretty weebly. Improving though" once the adrenalin wore off. Stopped by "... marooned? Sleep deprived? Happy?", and have now settled into feeling physically & mentally very well, and have mostly gotten used to it being mama & babe during the day.

Q: How is Amoryn?

A: ...my girl is gorgeous & such a good baby, ...She's wonderful. And going for her nap,...

Q: How is the man doing with fatherhood?
A: Completely besotted with his girl. Fantastic. Wonderful.

And now, naptime!

At Least We're Not Having A Baby Elephant

Really. We were watching a PBS special, this is why I'm very glad we're not having a baby elephant:
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1) Gestation period - 18-22 months
2) Baby's weight at birth: about 250 lbs.
3) Baby's length - well, they're about three feet tall, not sure how long that would make them. Also? Does the trunk get included in the length measure or not?
4) Babies will drink about 3 gallons of milk a day.
5) Babies aren't fully weaned until they are about 10.
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Also, with a baby elephant, we'd either be in a zoo, meh, or in the wild, which is fraught with natural & human dangers. So all in all, I'm content that we're still carting around what appears via ultrasound to be a perfectly healthy human baby.
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On the other hand, baby elephants are adorable! The video of them learning how to use their trunks - too funny. The man chuckled.

What do we have, if not a baby elephant? Well, here is Pat with his prize from curling on St Paddy's day. His team got picked last for prizes. There wasn't much left, so he picked the classic & sophisticated 'frog with reflecting ball'.

I like it very much. Pat liked this photo of me - barefoot & pregnant. (I was wearing slippers with my housedress, but kicked them off, just for posterity's sake).

Here's a better belly profile, on a different day, but in the same housedress. (I admit, I was looking at the tv, not smiling for the camera.)

Here, I am wearing the same housedress, but I've got my bathrobe on over top. The kitten has been unusually snuggly & an (almost) perfect model of catly goodness.

Suki has also been very good - I deemed him my surrogate baby, as he was curled into such a nice little ball.

And I rewarded his surrogate baby-hood with dumping him into the baby sling I'd made for a test-drive. Suki didn't seem to know quite what to make of things, but overall, he approved. (He's purring in this pic.)

I wasn't as struck with that version of the sling, so I've revamped it. No photos of that yet.

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And now, now I am going to go! And accomplish something! Something like, um, maybe getting out of my bathrobe & into real clothes! Ha!