Friday, September 29, 2006

My thoughts on motherhood - worth 96%!

I'm not going to lie. I thought I was a pretty smart puppy in high school. I was always on the honour roll and I finished my final year with a 94.6% average.
(And then I went to Queen's and started pulling 60s and 70s. Jeez, who knew you actually had to try in university?)

Anyway.

The other day, my mother called and told me she found one of my essays from my Grade 13 sociology class.
It's titled: Surviving First Year of Motherhood and is based on a Toronto Star story on British childbirth expert Sheila Kitzinger's book, The Year After Childbirth: Surviving and Enjoying The First Year of Motherhood.

The essay was submitted to my teacher on Oct. 16, 1995 - almost exactly 11 years ago ...

I got 24/25 on this - although to me, it seems quite wordy and unfocused in sections. But it has a nice ending.

This is what my teacher said: "A very good essay on a very challenging subject. You have handled the assignment efficiently and in a good writing style."

Read on to see what (if anything) I knew about motherhood when I was 18 years old.

I thought I was soooo smart back then with my good grades and honour roll status but I realize now just how little I actually knew about life, love, parenting and all that other hard stuff that knocks you on your butt once you're not cradled by the comfort of your parents' roof, bank account, security, 24-7 love, guidance and help.

(P.S. I type this as I stare at my one-month-old swinging in the best freakin' invention
ever, the Fisher Price Aquarium Cradle Swing. Are you pregnant? Run, don't walk to Toys R Us or Sears and buy one of these. Now. It has saved my sanity.)

THE ESSAY

It is often said that getting married is one of the most momentous experiences of one's life. It is the joining of two people who love, care and respect each other; who want to spend the rest of their lives together.

Within the many years they will spend together, many major decisions will be made; however, the most important decision a couple has to make is whether they may want to have a child.

Having a child means the couple must make lifestyle changes; they must learn to balance the demands of a child with the needs of each other. Frequently, it falls upon the woman to shoulder the responsibility and stay home with the child. In this scenario, obviously, the majority of the responsibilities and demands of child rearing fall upon her. The female partner in the marriage must learn to not only manage routine changes and deal with the emotional problems and stress, but also cope with the physical demands and obstacles that a newborn baby creates. The female must learn to survive the first year of motherhood. Why use the word survive? Because as stated in the article, Surviving first year of motherhood "You lose your identity and al control over time, both day and night."

There are no self-help manuals on surviving the first year as a mother, and although neighbours, friends and relatives will be willing to offer information and advice, motherhood is a personal experience; one that women need to experience and learn about themselves. Again, it states from the above mentioned article, "it is a matter of getting organized and figuring out how to manage your time, and even setting up support networks with other women." It is a matter of learning how to incorporate a newborn baby into your already constructed life.

Therefore, through the use of examples of routine management, emotional discord and the physical problems women endure, it will be proven motherhood is not a natural talent, but rather a struggle in which women must grow.

Women must learn to adapt and accept a new daily routine after their baby is born. It is not a process that comes naturally, or immediately once the baby is brought home. One of the greatest problems arises when, in order for a family to be financially secure, the mother has to continue to work, at least part-time. Once her day at work ends, her day at home begins. Now she must play wife, mother and housekeeper. It states in the article surviving First Year of Motherhood "you'll lose your power to predict what you'll accomplish in the morning or even the hour."

It may not always be a matter of being organized, for events and plans can change immediately. The time a mother may have thought would be have been perfect to get some laundry or housekeeping done may be interrupted by a necessary baby feeding or changing. The few hours the mother plans to sleep may not be the time the baby feels like resting. In all likelihood, the baby will want nurturing when the mother wants to sleep. (SARAH, 29-YEAR-OLD CURRENT ME INSERTS THOUGHT HERE): I was sooo right.

Families need to realize that once a new family member is introduced, their carefree lifestyle will disappear. They are now responsible and must be dedicated to the new life that they brought into the world. Both parents, especially the mother, must be able to schedule time for many things, including doctor appointments for both the child and herself, time for feedings, and if the mother is breast feeding, no one can give the mother a break, time for naps and sleep and time for play.

However, there are also other situations and events that need to have time dedicated to them. For example, time dedicated to the housework, to careers and most importantly, each parent of the child needs to be ready to dedicate time to each other. Without the parents happily interacting together, a happy and loving household will not be provided for the child. (SARAH SAYS: It's our two-year anniversary right now. We will be going out for dinner with our babe and, of course, bottles full of expressed milk. Want to look sexy in front of your mate? Try expressing milk through a breast pump. It pulls your breast so far out that it looks like taffy being stretched. Sexy!)

A happy and loving household must be provided for the child to keep him/her healthy and content; however, sometimes in trying to provide such an atmosphere, the mother can become sick and emotionally drained. The most common problem new mothers encounter is exhaustion.

Not only do they get many less hours of sleep than before the baby arrived, but also they have no rest or relaxation time, as each minute is important in accomplishing all the work that needs to be done in the house and family.

Again, stating from the article, Surviving First Year of Motherhood, the first year of motherhood is described as "emotionally turbulent" or perhaps a better term is "an emotional roller coaster year."

Probably the best argument for proving women have to grow into motherhood and learn to deal with the emotional discord is proven with a quote that is taken from the article. It says, "You grow into being a mother and there will be times when you're elated and times when you're depressed and wonder why you ever had a baby. It is a shock ... Women must recognize they're going to fall in and out of love with their baby and that's natural."

Although the first year of having a newborn baby can be a year of exhaustion and emotional "up and downs" women through experience will learn that they can persevere. Throughmanagementt and control, women can have a wonderful and loving first year with their child.

Lastly, women encounter many physical problems and obstacles duringtheirr first year as a mother. Often, women's bodies become exhausted. Their bodies no longer act on the commands that their brain is sending them. This is when the woman's health is in danger. Women must learn to deal with thephysicall changes that her body will endure. She may have larger, swollen breasts, this is so that she will be able to breast feed her child. Also due to the pregnancy and thelifestylee she may lead after her baby is born, the woman may have to suffer with weight gain. The woman may not be as active or may not have time for exercise. She may also be solving her emotional problems with food, which will result in physical problems.Anotherr problem she may encounter is the development of acne, or skinblemishess. This is caused by stress or because different chemicals change within the body duringpregnancyy.

There are also other major physical changes that occur within the pelvis and vaginal area. Learning to accept thephysicall changes of her body is a part of "growing into motherhood."

Women must realize that these changes are not only acceptable but also typical and that they must grow into motherhood. Again, as stated in the article, "women feel as though they are set adrift once they leave the maternity ward. Untrained in parenting, unsure of what to do, they thrash around in this strange new role that the world expects them to know by instinct." This is the keyphrasee. All women do not know what to do. Therefore, society should realize that women need to learn the ropes of motherhood.

Through the examples of routine management, emotional stress and physical problems it is obvious that women need time to learn how to manage their routines, be able to deal with the emotional strain and come to understand accept the physical changes their bodies are undergoing. It is not only an important year for the child, but also for the mother. This is the year that the mother will begin to learn about how to be a parent. She will use this new skill and build on it throughout her child's life.

In conclusion, mothers throughout their lives will often tell their children the old cliche of "time heals all wounds." It is time for society to tell mothers that "time teaches."

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Monday, September 25, 2006

Is sarahcrosbie.com like looking at an accident?

Before I went on mat leave, I was the editor of our paper's entertainment magazine. Every Saturday the mag contained an editor's note or column by me. Some weeks I'd reminisce about family vacations, some weeks I'd share funny family stories, some weeks I'd go on about my weight insecurities and many times I'd gush and gush and gush about how in love I am and share vignettes about trips, experiences and moments the boyfriend and I had enjoyed.
Many readers loved my column. Some of you disliked it. Others HATED it.
The folks who hated it always had the same complaint: Why do they have to read about my personal life? Why can't I just keep my experiences, thoughts, memories to myself?
And I always have the same question: If you hate what you're reading, if it upsets you, bothers you, irks you, frustrates you, annoys you, angers you, then why do you read it?
When readers e-mailed me and told me to keep my thoughts to myself, I always wanted to e-mail them back and apologize: "I'm sorry, dear reader. I must have been in a trance on Saturday morning when I apparently broke into your home, opened your magazine, handcuffed it to you, Crazy Glued your eyes open and forced you through torture – maybe spanking ? :) – to read my column. I'm sorry for forcing it down your throat. I plead temporary insanity."
I have this radical thought: If you don't like what you're reading why read it?
Blogs are always coming under fire for being full of crap. Recently, actor and musician Jared Leto made headlines when he said he hated blogs because they're unresearched and full of unnamed sources and the writing is lame-o-rama.
I wonder if there's a word yet for blog haters?
Check out the No. 1 definition for blog on urbandictionary.com:
n.
Short for weblog.
A meandering, blatantly uninteresting online diary that gives the author the illusion that people are interested in their stupid, pathetic life. Consists of such riveting entries as "homework sucks" and "I slept until noon today." I guess people read blogs that they dislike/hate because it really is like looking at a car accident. You know you don't want to see the carnage, the guts, the gore - and, in my case, the gush - and yet you can't stop yourself because for some reason it fascinates you.Coming next time on sarahcrosbie.com: Why Pampers are superior to Huggies, the yumminess of Vanilla Almond Special K and, wait for it: Newsflash: Still happy and still in love.

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Saturday, September 23, 2006

Ho! Ho! Ho! (No, we're not talking dirty girls)

The coolest job is available in Kingston.
It seems Santa is really busy this year putting together all those iPods so he needs some extra help and is calling in a-look-alike to help him meet and greet little kiddies at the Frontenac Mall.
Santa took out an ad in today's Kingston Whig-Standard to announce he needs a twin and some elves to do his work at the Bath Road mall from Nov. 25 to Dec. 23.
You need to provide the jolly laughs and Christmas spirit and the mall, er, Santa, will provide the raspberry red suit.
Here's what else Santa says: "Santa's helpers will be in charge of taking photo orders, processing sales, assisting the photographer and urging the kiddies to smile for the camera."
Santa gets so much mail, you need to send your applications to his other mailbox:
Administration Office, Frontenac Mall, 1300 Bath Rd., Kingston, Ont., K7M 4X4 or e-mail abello@riocan.com.
Just one question: Can girls play Santa, too?
Ho. Ho. Ho.

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Friday, September 22, 2006

Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes, Briton Hadden and Henry Luce

Every day last week, the boyfriend and I would go to the convenience store around the corner from our house to see if the new Vanity Fair had hit the shelves. I wanted to see the photos Annie Leibovitz had taken for the magazine of the new happy Tom, Katie, Suri Cruise family.

This week, we finally got the mag with its 22-page spread and, quite honestly, it's like looking in a mirror: Tom Cruise falls for significantly younger (and stunning) woman and has a baby with her to expand his brood.
The boyfriend falls for significantly younger (and stunning) woman and has a baby with her to expand his brood.

Tom Cruise jumps on couch on Oprah show to profess his love.
Sandwiched between the DVDs and flannel PJS, the boyfriend plays salsa music in Costco and swirls me around a couple of times to profess his love.

Tom and Katie have brown hair.
The boyfriend and I have brown hair.

See? The similarities are endless ...

That all being said, there is one big difference.
The boyfriend and I are interesting but, if you're going by the VF story, these two Chiclet-smiling beauties are dull, dull, dull.

The pictures are saccharine sweet and the story is like: We're so happy but the tabloids are big meanies and they talk about us and put photos of us in their magazines even though we stage publicity stunts all the time (Eiffel tower proposal; the infamous couch episode; over-the-top apology to Brooke Shields about the post-partum depression debacle) and we can't be happier but we hate the tabloids. But did we say we're happy? Oooh, we're so happy at our 400-acre refuge where there are no tabloids!

The good news for VF readers is there is a story about a fascinating couple in this month's issue: There's an excerpt called The Man Time Forgot about the two men who started Time newsmagazine: Henry Luce and Briton Hadden.

Hadden was the genius but died early and so, according to this piece, Luce got all the cred.

The story is an interesting read for anyone who's interested in journalism, reading and magazines although it's also humbling: Hadden believed that if you hadn't made a name for yourself by the time you were 30, forget about it. You're over the hill: "Anyone over 30 is ready for the grave," he said during his rise to prominence.

(Good freakin' thing I'm still 178 days away from the big 3-0!)

Luce believed in journalism so strongly, that anything else, including sex, was just a distraction: "He confessed that with his then wife, Lila, he 'simply did it and then rolled over and thought about Time.' "

So, Hadden died young at age 30 (and apparently was quite the drinker and had a string of bad relationships which didn't help his health) and Luce cut out life's luxuries to build Time and, eventually an empire that included the publications Sports Illustrated, Life and Fortune.

Maybe these dudes had it all - or maybe they actually needed some balance in their lives.

If she had been around at the time, a sit-down chat with Oprah, the queen of balanced living, may have done the trick ...



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Thursday, September 21, 2006

Bye bye, baby back bacon

If you believe all the crap in celebrity magazines (which I do) Hollywood's new mommies are having one heck of a time dropping the baby weight.

Gwyneth Paltrow is stressed about trying to drop the last 20 of the 40 pounds she gained with her son, Moses who was born in April. She's going on some veggie cleansing diet to shed those bits of cellulite.

Former Miss USA Shanna Moakler, who just got booted from Dancing with the Stars last night, said the reality show was great for her because she lost seven of the pounds she'd gained with her seven-month-old daughter Alabama.

Mariska Hargitay, who plays detective Benson on Law & Order SVU, last month said she had to find a dress for the Emmy awards that accommodated the extra baby weight she was still carrying around since she gave birth to her son, August, in June.

I, Sarah Crosbie, also a new mommy, have one thing to say to these girls.

Sucks to be you.

Before I got pregnant, I was a slender five foot four inches tall and 148 pounds. Sure, my thighs jiggled more than Jell-O and I still had some extra back bacon but I felt pretty confident about myself.

In 2001, after I graduated from university, I went through a bit of a, well, let's call a thing. I wasn't depressed but I wasn't Miss Sunshine, either. I'd just finished university and was desperately lonely without all my school friends. I'd been hired at The Kingston Whig-Standard newspaper full time and even though I was thrilled about a full-time journalist gig, I couldn't help but feel letdown that I'd reached the place I'd been supposedly working toward since my first day of kindergarten. Every day, I'd think "Now what? This is it?" And, I was going through some relationship crap. Plus, I had just gotten my first car and so I was driving everywhere. Walking? Who needed to walk when you can drive?

So I comforted myself with McChickens and super size fries many nights - after dinner - and packed on the pounds. I ballooned to 178 pounds and even though I put on a brave face, I felt like a big, fat piece of crap in my size 14/16 clothes. A few more pounds and I was going to have to shop at the big girl store.

I lost the weight over the years and regained my self-confidence (my father actually thinks at times I gained a little too much of it) and when I got pregnant, I decided I was going to do my darndest to not pig out and gain 60 pounds. I didn't want to one day have a five year old and still be talking about my quest to lose the baby weight.

So I was vigilant.

I ate little meals throughout the day. I drank eight bottles of water a day and cut back on my Diet Cokes - hey, when you usually drink six or more a day, cutting back isn't so hard. Every time the boyfriend and the kiddies ate ice cream, cookies, cinnamon buns or any other sweet junk, I'd say "thanks but no thanks."

Starting when I was three months pregnant, I took a two-hour pre-natal yoga class once a week at the Yoga and Relaxation Centre and in the last few months of my pregnancy the boyfriend and I went for long walks at night.

I ended up gaining 25.5 pounds (yes, 25.5, not 26.) Which means, nine months pregnant, I weighed 173.5, which is less than my big year in 2001.

And now, three weeks since popping out Little Man, I have already lost 19.5 pounds.

SIX MORE TO GO. SIX MORE TO GO. SIX MORE TO GO. SIX MORE TO GO.

OK, one more time: Six more to go.

This is the best diet I have ever been on:

a) Give birth to 6 pound, 13 oz baby.
b) Lose placenta
c) Lose waters
d) Lose blood, water, other bodily fluids
e) Breastfeed and burn up to 500 calories a day

Voila! You lose 19.5 pounds in just a couple of weeks.

Perhaps I could have lost the whole shebang if I didn't have such a voracious appetite right now. My lovely neighbours brought over homemade brownies (thanks Marg and Karl). I had four of them as an appetizer to our chicken finger dinner.

I've had fun eating but now it's time to burn off those extra back bacon folds and fight to regain my pre-pregnancy body.

So, yes, I'm a little smug right now but that's only because I've battled my weight my whole life and now, for the first time, I can say: Take that, skinny bitches! I'm winning the post-partum chunky challenge and damn it feels good.

Halloween: That's my goal. I will be my svelte self (with jiggly thighs and a little back bacon) again. That's approximately one pound a week...

There's only one problem: Anyone know how to get rid of a mommy pot belly?

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Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Sarah Crosbie's life: Birth control for your teenager?

Any moms and dads out there terrified that your teenage child is having sex?
I have an offer for you: You're welcome to send her or him to my home from midnight to noon to see just exactly what life is like living with a three-week-old baby.

Back when I was in high school, I know for me, and many of my friends, getting pregnant was 100 times scarier than getting a sexually transmitted disease.
Diseases are invisible. Baby bumps and babies are not.

So yes, I was having sex in high school. (But in my last year when I was almost 19 years old. Anyone younger than that should stick to the kissing, trust me.)
But, I was also probably the most careful sexually active teenager in all of Ontario.
Just to make sure no mistakes happened, I used the pill, condoms, foam and the always-sketchy pull-out method.

Now listen here: If I had known then what I know now I NEVER, EVER, would have had sex in high school.
EVER.
Because babies are hard, exhausting work.

Yes, I know, all you mommies right now are reading this thinking, "well, duh, Sarah," but I guarantee you that young people don't know they're this hard.

I'm a smart 29-year-old cookie: I have a honours university degree. I have a career. I read. I travel. I also have a supportive boyfriend who's by my side all night long telling me how great a mommy I am and, even though I have spit up on my shoulder, the bags under my eyes are charcoal grey and, I have to wear nursing bras that make your 70-year-old grandma's unmentionables look sexy, he still tells me I'm beautiful.)

And yet, nothing can prepare you (me) for life at 3 a.m. with a wailing baby.

Here's a little sample of what life was like last night. Feel free to clip this and give it to your daughter, who you're worried is spending far too much time "watching movies" in your dark basement with that sketch-ball boyfriend of hers:

10 p.m.: Watch CSI:Miami premiere. Sip tea and eat cranberry scones with my honey as we coo and admire our perfect, sleeping child;

11 p.m.: Realize it's raining outside and reminisce about all the romantic nights the boyfriend and I had listening to the falling rain. Daydream about falling asleep with my head on his shoulder;

12 a.m.: Realize baby has major gas as he starts to toot up a storm;

12:01 a.m.: Baby is wide awake, gurgling, hiccuping, kicking, sighing, playing;

12:02 a.m. to 12:40 a.m.: Breastfeed baby; change poopy diaper.

12:40 to 2 a.m.: Play with baby. Show him rattles. Put him in his swing. Talk to baby. Sing to baby;

2 a.m. to 2:30 a.m.: Baby asleep! Sing it with me: Hallelujah! Hallelujah! We sleep too;

2:31 a.m. to 3 a.m.: Baby awake. Breastfeed baby;

3:01 a.m.: Baby has more gas. Burping ensues. Also time to change poopy diaper;

3:02 a.m. to 3:30 a.m.: Baby wails and cries and wails and cries. More burping; Quietly and loving plead: "Please shut up. Please shut up. Please shut up. I love you but you're killing me. Please shut up. Please shut up. Please shut up. Please shut up";

3:31 a.m. to 4 a.m.: Baby obviously growing up to be a giant. Wants to eat again; More "Please shut ups";

4:01 a.m. to 5:30 a.m.: Mommy and daddy sleep;

5:31 a.m. to 6:14 a.m.: Breastfeed baby. By now, my breasts are throbbing because he's cried so much and my nipples (especially the right) are so sore from so much sucking that I cry for a couple of minutes. One bad latch can kill you;

6:15 a.m. to 7 a.m.: So tired, I fall asleep as baby wails for half an hour, leaving the boyfriend to lie in bed listening to the screams alone; (Sorry, BF. Love you.)

7:01 a.m.: Baby hungry. Again. Nipples are numb. I sleep with my head against the wall as he eats;

8 a.m. Someone calls the cellphone. Both baby and I are awake. Time to change poopy diaper again;

8:30 a.m. to 11:30 a.m. Baby, mommy and daddy sleep.


Still not enough to deter you, huh?

While all of this breastfeeding is going on, you're constantly going to be losing your breastpads. (Yes, youngins'. Think Maxipads for your breasts to sop up the extra milk. And you'll be panicking at 3 a.m. that you can't find the breastpad that has somehow slipped out of your bra because you're sure in your sleep-deprived state that your child is going to somehow inhale it and suffocate to death on it.)

Of course, at noon, once you've had some sleep, two cups of coffee, and a bowl of Special K, and your baby is staring at you with his big blue eyes and cooing, the pain of the night vanishes.

But there's another night just like it 12 hours away.

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Monday, September 18, 2006

Weight for it




The whole story is coming. Stay tuned.

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Saturday, September 16, 2006

Oscar Wilde, Eleanor Roosevelt and, yes, Dr. Phil

Three interesting things I read/heard yesterday while I was feeding Little Man.
(You see it's OK for me to watch Dr. Phil right now: I'm breastfeeding and he's on the boob tube. OK, that was lame but I'm severely sleep deprived right now. You gotta cut me some slack.)

#1. Marriage is the triumph of imagination over intelligence. Second marriage is the triumph of hope over experience."
- Oscar Wilde

Is this not true of all of us? We've all had our hearts broken at one time or another and yet, probably too early too often, we've jumped back into a relationship.

Sometimes we absolutely know it's a rebound.

One day, I was having lunch with my two best girlfriends at Pan Chancho and, as I picked at my avocado sandwich, I told them I thought "I was falling" for this new guy. They immediately burst out laughing. They knew that they "relationship" was nothing more than rebound for both of us. At the time their laughter seemed cruel. Now when I think back to that guy, "ooooo gross" is all I can come up with.

But, and this is the big BUT. Sometimes, that guy you think is just going to be a fling turns out to be Mr. Wonderful. And even though you know he has the potential to rip your heart out of your chest, you go on because he's worth the risk.

Are we optimistic or just plain stupid when it comes to love?


#2: "A woman is like a tea bag. You never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water."
- Eleanor Roosevelt


No big explanation needed. The feminist me in me likes it, is all.

#3: "You create what you fear."
- Dr. Phil

I like this quote from our Texan shrink because it's true, isn't it? There are times I go over a scenario in my head a million times to mentally prep for it, just in case it happens. (Even though it never, ever does.)

I.E.: What if the boyfriend wanted to take all of our money and buy a big, black gas-sucking SUV even though I want to use our money to travel?

I.E.: What if the boyfriend got a job offer in Calgary, even though if I move anywhere, my No. 1 city is Montreal?

I.E.: What if the boyfriend forgets to buy me a Christmas present?

I know these all sound ridiculous but the truth is, I have very little backbone when it comes to conflict (unless I'm pushed far, far, far over the edge) so I go over and over the potential problems in my head to be prepared just in case there is some sort of discussion (argument). But here's the catch: None of these concocted woes ever happen so I am the one creating the stress for myself.

OK: This is all too serious. I'll leave you with my all time favourite quote that I found on a fridge magnet in Salisbury, England:

"LIFE IS TOO SHORT TO DANCE WITH UGLY MEN."


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Wednesday, September 13, 2006

The skinny on fashion shows

Get your daughter to read this story.

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If I win do I get $44 million instead?

Big news in the land of Babydom. Today, on Little Man's two-week birthday, I stepped outside for the very first time without him.
Sure, I've had 37-second showers without him and a couple of times I've even been able to hand him off when I've had to go to the little girl's room. (Note to mommies-to-be: Sometimes when you have to go to the bathroom, you are going to have to put your baby on the bathroom floor mat while he/she watches you do your business.)
But today, I had to whip out to buy chicken fingers and there wasn't much point in him making the 12-minute trip with me.
I was so speedy buying dinner that I decided to go to a convenience store and buy a Lotto 649 ticket. The jackpot tonight is $22 million.
No, I wouldn't hire a nanny if I won but I would hire:
a) A house cleaner
b) Someone to do my laundry
c) A personal shopper (I thought a box of breast pads would last, oh, I don't know - a few months? Ah, no. It has lasted exactly two weeks. No one tells you that you have to wear maxipads on your breasts 24/7 when you're a new mommy.) Sexy, I know.
d) A chef
e) A chauffer
f) Lukas Rossi from Rockstar: Supernova to perform at my Thanksgiving dinner (whether or not he wins tonight).
But when I got to the convenience store, panic set in. What if he was crying? What if he was hungry? Sure, the BF has changed hundreds of diapers in his lifetime with his two other children, but I'm the only one who can do the feeding. Soon, I was marking lottary numbers off like a madwoman. I had to get out of there and get home to my men.
I got in the car with my ticket and the latest US - John Mayer dumped Jessica Simpson! - and zoomed home only to notice that in my state of baby panic, I'd chosen the same set of numbers twice. (Normally, I'm a fan of full disclosure and I'd tell you how I came about my numbers but I don't want you to steal my numbers and my millions.)
No, wasting $2 isn't such a big deal but if my other set of numbers I was going to choose is the winning combo, I'm going to lose it tomorrow.
I'll have to find time for my breakdown somewhere inbetween washing sleepers covered in liquid mustard poo and buying breastpads.

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Tuesday, September 12, 2006

A 47th birthday - what a gas!

Today, er, yesterday, seeing as it's already 1:17 a.m. in the morning, was the BF's 47th birthday.
We celebrated on the weekend with the teenagers but I thought it was still important to recognize the big day today. (Yes, he was born on Sept. 11, which is a little strange. Even stranger, his sister was born on Sept. 11, 10 years earlier.)
I decided to be brave and go on my very first outing as a mommy. I felt heroic completing small tasks that used to be considered mundane. I returned a couple library books with baby in tow. I took Jodie Foster's Flightplan back to the store and returned an Xbox game. Somewhere in there, I also found the time to do something a little romantic for the boyfriend.
One of our favourite restaurants in town is Amadeus Cafe, a small Hungarian/Austrian restaurant on Princess Street that has delicious food and charming service. The boyfriend loves the chicken paprikash and they have perhaps the best escargot in all of Kingston.
When we didn't have a screaming 13-day-old, we used to go there and order red wine, escargot and garlic bread. The boyfriend would have the paprikash and I'd have the breaded filet of sole. (Right now Little Man is wailing ... I can hear the BF saying 'Sweetheart, what's wrong?' Apparently, he has gas.) While I was out doing my errands in the afternoon, I made a phone call to Amadeus to make sure we could have takeout for dinner.
So, no, we didn't have a big night out on the town this year and it wasn't like old times when we'd go out and drink too much and have a delicious night out, but this is the new reality.
But the boyfriend loved having some of our favourite food brought in - and, surprise, surprise, Little Man decided to give his daddy a birthday present: He slept for three hours which meant mommy and daddy had some couple time which led to ...
What? You think I'd tell you here? This is a family-friendly blog. My parents read it for goodness sake!

There might be more(or not)
posted at 1:15 AMPermanent link 0 comments links to this post

Sunday, September 10, 2006

BabY bloGGers unite!


(This is Truth's very first step into the world of blogging. He woke up this morning and then let out this very cute and strange cry that signalled he wanted to be like his mommy and daddy and become a writer. So, without any help from us at all (it's shocking that some of you right now are thinking we cropped and Photoshopped my hands out this picture showing me holding him over the keys! Shocking I say!) he put his little feet on our laptop and tapped away. I think it's genius, poetic even, in the way that he blends letters with numbers and then repeats some of them many times. It's like he's squealing with glee.)

Here, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and babies of all ages, is Truth's first online posting:
grrh4bbbbbbbbbfvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
b7777bbv56jmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee mikkgggggv3eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeecx5yh
1 51444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444441988

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posted at 4:43 PMPermanent link 0 comments links to this post

Metamorphosis



Can you tell which picture was taken 15 months ago and which was taken this week, 10 days after I gave birth to my first baby?

OK, so it was an easy test. But did you spot the ground-in toothpaste blob. By the way, the pretty picture is me all glammed up in a swanky Holt Renfrew dress, at a newspaper gala in May 2005.

There might be more(or not)
posted at 10:50 AMPermanent link 0 comments links to this post

Friday, September 08, 2006

Why don't you love me anymore, BF?

Regrets in life? I have a few but one of my biggest is that every time I've had my heart broken, I've gone into a fit of rage, desperation and sadness and thrown out every card, love note, gift, trinket, movie stub, piece of jewelry, dinner receipt and photograph from our time together.
The purge feels great at the time but then days, weeks or months later, I regret tossing the stuff. I always wish that I could look at the discarded memorabilia and reminisce about the good times and the bad times. The souvenirs are like medals of bravery, of survival. Maybe it would even be good stuff to show my children one day to soothe their broken hearts - something that says I survived this ugly breakup, you will, too.
I thought I'd tossed everything from all my past relationships until the boyfriend and I moved this spring. I was unpacking boxes of books when six pages fell out of a book and fluttered to the ground. It turned out to be a note I wrote to an ex-love. I'd obviously decided for some reason not to give it to him and I'd tucked it inside an encyclopedia.
Now, in order to protect this person's identity, I've taken his name out of the letter and deleted some details.
Here's what I can say:
1) The letter was written to a boyfriend who I did love very much;
2) The relationship took place sometime in the last 10 years;
3) I think it's valuable to show you the letter because it shows that the Celine Dion gospel is true. Your heart will go on. I am madly in love again and this one is The One.
And, if the intended recipient of this letter reads this post, then he gets to know he was once very loved by me and it's always nice to be loved by someone, right?
OK, ladies and gentlemen. Be prepared to see a very pathetic, in mourning, devastated, sad girl - but feel free to giggle – it's just so over-the-top sad and pathetic.
After this week's very sappy post Little Man, Big Tears, I decided we needed something a little sassy.
So, here you go. I give you The Letter.


"Dear Boyfriend,

I never thought I'd ever have to do this. My heart is broken, I feel crazy and my hopes are dashed.
I don't know why but I know you don't love me like you used to.
Something snapped in you during [A RECENT] weekend. It was like you instantly decided you wanted a different life than the one you and I had always talked about.
I also know you lied to me. I know you told people about your plans to move ... before me. It kills me that you don't want to confide in me.
What hurts the most though, is that I have to beg and tug on you for affection ...
I don't know what else to do. Your interest in me is obviously waning.
I've tried everything and given it my all. When the marriage talk scared you off, I changed my way of thinking and decided that if you needed four more years, I could give you that.
You asked me to stop constantly analyzing our relationship. I did that too.
You told me you wanted me to be more independent - hanging out with my friends more. I've done that too.
I know you're struggling with things but nothing I'm doing seems to make you want to reconnect with me.
You know something is different.
I know something is different.
Now, I think you owe me an explanation of what went wrong.
I guess I just don't know why you tell me things like "I'm the best girlfriend in the world" and "I'll love you forever" but then your actions say otherwise.
I don't know what else to do.
I just don't know what to say anymore.
Sarah"

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posted at 6:06 PMPermanent link 0 comments links to this post

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

My Little Man, My Big Tears


Tomorrow, Little Man will turn one week old, which just seems impossible. All those cliche things I read about motherhood during the past nine months have come Tru: I fell in love with Little Man the minute I held him; I'd do anything to protect him; Everything he does, blinking even, is fascinating. But what I've found during the past six days is that there is a beautiful clarity that accompanies my hormone-driven, post-delivery emotional highs and lows.
Looking at Little Man's dad makes me cry because he is such a good father to his children. They will always come first in his life.
I can't fully grasp how it is that children are more resilient, more adaptable than adults. Children are so needy, so dependent and yet they are so strong.
And I'm amazed at how a baby can inspire generosity and kindness among people who don't really know us. Some people, some of you, have sent e-mails wishing us well. Some of you have phoned. Others gave us presents, some small, some extravagant. And what is most surprising is that some people you'd expect - or I guess hope is the better word - to touch base haven't. And others, who don't owe us anything at all, have reached out and been outrageously kind and supportive.
This isn't my usual thought process. It's much too gushy for me. But I wanted to put it down so that it's out there so that the next time I'm consumed with greed and money (I don't want a second car; it will completely wipe out any extra cash we have... Do we really need another iPod? ... I really want that green $100 Matt & Nat purse that's for sale downtown); or the next time I'm feeling particularly stressed about my on-hold career, or I'm oozing venom over someone's selfishness, I will look back to this week and try to remember the moment when a Grey's Anatomy episode brought me to tears. In the show, a mother is dying and is using her last few hours to give her daughter final life lessons that no one else can teach her: Always wear panties under your pantyhose. It's slutty not to. Only drink one glass of champagne at your wedding. No one likes a drunk bride. And when you have a baby,cherish him every minute, because you can't turn back the hands of time.
And now, I have to go because I've made myself cry, remembering all the crying. But they're happy tears.

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posted at 12:56 PMPermanent link 0 comments links to this post