Is this the baby I brought home?

I was looking at my daughter today with a mixture of happiness and melancholy. She has turned into such a little girl already - determined, full of life, of hope and spirit.

She already has very strong opinions for an almost 17 mth old. There are 2 words that first come out of her mouth from the moment she wakes up: shoes and baby. We must wear our shoes and we must always have our baby along with an assortment of stuffed toys. We must have "gooey" every morning.(code name for yogurt) We must watch "Mambo" several times a week (although we are currently on Mambo detox - Mambo is Happy Feet the movie.) We are addicted to cheese and feeding the kitty, which mostly consists of feeding the floor. We like wearing summer hats but hate our winter one. We love shoes but dislike boots. We sing Twinkle Twinkle little star and can now identify a roster of animals, like elephant which we pronounce "ananas" which means pineapple in French. We completely understand the meaning of "Uh oh", words that are often followed by an "oh no" by Mummy. We also understand when Dada's away on a plane and have become quite adept at talking to Dada on Skype. All in all it's amazing to watch her.

And we are heavier and taller and I no longer carry a baby in my arms. I now pick up a little girl. And it seems like just yesterday that I was staring at that pink stick announcing her soon-to-be arrival. Yesterday that this tiny little being started sucking on me for sustenance and I thought "whoa, this feels very strange". And that feeling was quickly replaced by a feeling that I was home; that together we were home. As the expression goes "home is where the heart is". And my heart is most certainly with her, Ashiah, my daughter. Wow. I am now the mother of a little girl. :)

Rainy days and Daddy blues

This is Ashiah having just made blueberry pancakes with Mummy and then ate said pancakes and rubbed the maple syrup throughout her hair. Good thing she's cute.

It's the first time Greg has been away for a long period in a few months now. Usually I'm rushing about madly trying to get the to do list done but today it is gray and rainy and potential playmates were all sick so Ashiah and I stayed in. There was a definite absence in the cabin today despite Ashiah and I sharing a few laughs and lots of playtime.

I remember when I was pregnant and Greg would go away and I would really miss him. I would busy myself to not dwell on it. But now I have a little girl who misses her Daddy and reminds me every hour on the hour and sometimes for several minutes at a time.

As she sat across from me at the dinner table in a 'big person chair' she was busying herself and suddenly looked up at me and said "Dada?" I said "Yes, Dada is away right now" and she kept asking "Dada?" So I said "Dada is in the car" to which she repeated "Dada is in the car?" "Yes he is pumpkin" I answered, astonished that she had repeated verbatim. She then repeated "Dada/car" about 20 times and finally paused and looked down and I thought to myself "thank God because she's making me miss him too." And then she looked up at me again, with her beautiful blue eyes, so earnest and said "Dada?" And I felt the tears swell up and seep down my cheeks. "Yes love, Dada is in the car, far away, but he'll be back soon."

I text'ed Dada who happened to be on a beach in Point Reyes resting up after traveling 3 cities in 3 days and he immediately called home and baby and Mama were very happy to hear his voice. Baby and Mama then spent the rest of the evening playing inside a cardboard house (Ashiah sized of course) and baby and Mama felt peaceful having touched base with the third leg of our tripod.

Saturday Mornings

Something nice about Saturday mornings in our house.
Sleeping in.
No rushing about to get ready.
Music is playing.
Blueberry pancakes.
A happy giggling baby running in and out from under Mommy and Daddy's legs.

It's raining outside, but today, it's sunny in our cabin.

I know, it's been a ridiculously long-time...

I'm sure that blog etiquette dictates that one must blog on at the very least on a weekly basis as opposed to this 3 month lapse of mine. I've just been soooo busy. No really, you don't understand busy until you have a 1 year old. (As I type this, Ashiah has climbed onto the dining room table, helped herself to some trail mix, found the miscellaneous tray and put a battery, some nail clippers, 2 thumbtacks and some lipstick into her mouth. I quickly returned her to the floor but she's back up again and I'm about to give up writing to commence the bed-time ritual. She's very determined. After a temper tantrum and a wrestling match, Ashiah now only wearing her socks, is back up on the table. Is there such a thing as Terrible 1's? Or is she early? I'll try this again when she's in bed...

1.5 hrs later... where was I? Right. I really don't have time to write this now as I still have to study for the course I'm giving tomorrow, but what the heck. Let me tell you about today and you will suddenly understand how one day falls into the next and I barely have time to breathe sometimes let alone blog.

I'm teaching everyday this week, a 5-day work week (normally I work 3) and I'm teaching 4 courses, 3 of which bilingually, starting at 9:00AM. I've managed to be out the door by 8AM this week to drop Ashiah off at daycare as Greg is in Washington.

As I was about to leave this morning (at 8), no keys. Where are my keys? I never lose my keys. They are always on the front entrance table... until Ashiah steals them. Look everywhere... breathe... look everywhere... realize Ashiah has definitely taken them and hidden them... losing air ... panicking ... tears swelling... oh God, it's 8:30, I'm a mess, Ashiah's now crying and I have to tell my boss that I won't be there to teach in half an hour despite the 10 students waiting. Nightmare. She tells me to keep looking and maybe she'll send someone to come get me. She tells me to be calm and compose myself yet her voice is high-pitched and she's speaking very quickly and sounds like she's out of breath. I feel awful for stressing her out like this.

I keep looking. My house now looks as though it's been burglarized. I've looked EVERYWHERE. I'm on my hands and knees thinking like a one year old... where would I put them if I were 1. Despondent I finally try calling a taxi and they tell me it's 25 mins to get to me. I tell them it takes me 20 to get to Ottawa and they are leaving from Hull (closer). Fine, I'll think of something else.

I call the daycare and they so kindly agree to come and pick Ashiah up for me. Great! One down. I then call my neighbor and she finds me a car, well a van for the day that I can borrow. (I have a rule about vans but who cares! I'd borrow a horse at this point!

So in the end I made it to work, 15 mins late, frazzled, but I made it. $70 later though. (I bought 3 bottles of wine, 2 for the families who helped with the car situation, 1 for my fabulous daycare couple and 1 for ME and paid $20 gas for the van.) Yes, this is how much your child can cost you by playing with your keys.

I continued my search this evening. I scoured the kitchen, dining, laundry, living, and bath rooms, the front entrance and Ashiah's room. In the end, as I was changing her diaper, I thought to look behind the change table. Voila.

Advice to new moms or moms to be: buy a hook, don't leave keys on table.

Good thing she's cute. Very cute.

A little girl, cushions and knobs

What happens when babies turn 1? It's like overnight my baby has turned into a little girl. She's become so busy it's amazing, never stops moving, very smiley, very bright-eyed and into everything. And chatty! Oh my. She now has a small roster of words but uses them at every opportunity. 'Dada, Mama, Uh oh, Hat, Up, Tee' (for Kitty) and likely some Polish words she's learning at daycare but we don't understand them. She also raises her arms in the air now when we ask if she's 'all done'. She's unbearably cute and also exhausting. I'm sitting here with a glass of wine trying to recall the last time I sat down and relaxed today. Oh yeah, that's right, I didn't.

But I did manage to accomplish something very fun today. I decided yesterday to redecorate the bedroom, went shopping and bought a bunch of new 'stuff'. Fun 'stuff'. Of course there's the long cherished thoughts of building the addition etc. but right now time and finances don't permit so I decided to 'splurge' a little on the bedroom. There's nothing like a nice plush, well appointed bed and the feeling of 'ahhh' when you go down. I carefully chose a duvet that was just the right temperature and the right filling for Greg's allergies. We also now have his/her pillows, his is flat as a pancake because he sleeps on his stomach and mine has a groove in it because I'm often on my side. Then there are the decorative ones and of course, typical male response 'but if we're not going to sleep on them what are they for? It's like a hotel, all those un-necessary cushions...pause (seeing expression on Sam's face...) but they really are lovely bebe." Unh huh. Nice recovery. "Oh and I'd like to paint the dresser Greg". Typical male response: "Why? There are so many other more pressing things...pause...(seeing look on Sam's face)...but of course if it will make you happy we definitely should bebe." "Nice backtracking" I said, and we both laughed. In the end I've decided to just change the knobs on that dresser. Sometimes it just seems like the tiniest changes can make the biggest difference. I now feel like I can breathe in there. And breathing for Mommies is good. Just ask Daddy. :)

Ashiah turned 1!

It's been almost a month since my last entry. I've simply been overwhelmed, there's been no time.

Last Tuesday Ashiah turned a year old. I can't believe she's a toddler now, the time has flown by. She is an amazing little girl, so much personality and energy and life. The love of our lives. We marked the occasion with Grandpa and Grandma Searle, Aunt Noelene and Uncle Nate and Aunt Sara, Cousins Jericho and Malachi in a hotel room in St. Catherine's.

Sadly, the occasion was overshadowed by the illness of Greg's Uncle as we were with his family in St. Catharine's to bid Glen (Greg's Uncle) farewell. He found out less than a month ago that he had cancer. It's very sudden and very sad. Overall he was in good health and only 56 with a 16 year old daughter and a 20 year old son. He was devoted to his family and his work. Watching someone fade away so quickly like that is very difficult. He died this past Saturday morning. His last words to us before we left were "look after that little girl of yours, she's lovely". That she is...

Then Saturday evening, my own Uncle Alan died. He was 62. He had a heart attack while helping my father move. He died in my father's arms as he tried to revive him. My poor father was overcome and felt responsible. We spent Sunday helping him with the rest of his move and going to my Uncle's house to return his van and be with my two cousins who also just lost their mother (my aunt) in March.

All of this sadness and death makes you think of your own mortality, what's important and how not to live for one's retirement but to cherish every moment we can of every day. Although the last week has been insane with me going back to work, Greg being away for work and our trying to support family, we've both made time in the evening to leave everything behind and play with Ashiah - we went for a family canoe and watched the sunset Sunday night before Ashiah went to bed and then we both worked till 3. But the canoe was great, playing on the dock with Ashiah, throwing rocks - that's what it's all about. Last night Ashiah and I played on the trampoline and went for a walk up the road as the sun was setting. We picked flowers, picked up rocks, played tag and giggled. It was beautiful, so beautiful we did it again tonight and met up with Daddy on the road as he came home from Chicago. Ashiah squealed with delight and nestled on his chest and I had tears in my eyes... I love my family.

Life is beautiful.

Daycare...

It was Ashiah's first official day at day care today. I spent a couple hours there with her last Thursday and Friday and she stayed without me for 2 hrs yesterday which went so well we decided to try it a little longer today. My goal was 4 hrs but it ended up being 6. I was a mess by 2. I called about 4 times. Thankfully Aleksandra, the provider, was very patient and understanding having been unable to find a daycare she liked for her own daughter, she quit her day job at Bell to open up this eco friendly daycare. She's simply lovely and Ashiah is already taken with her, much to my happiness, relief and misery.

First I decided to take advantage of my new found freedom today (Greg's in Washington on business) and go for breakfast. I was fine for the first 20 minutes and then guilt set in. I worried that she was crying and miserable without me, especially for nap time. Then I started to really miss her and disliked this new found freedom. I called and was told she went down in 10 minutes which was a relief. Great, I'll go home and get lots done, moreover I'll run to Rona and pick up some things. Newsflash, it's Quebec's national holiday today so it was closed. No problem, lots to do at home. Here I go....whaaaa. I lost it. I was sobbing. I had to call someone but since I felt like a loser I called Greg's voice mail and sobbed on it. He called me back an hour later when he was out of his meeting to console me and tell me I was normal and that he loved me and although I had stopped crying for a whole half hour I started crying again. But I got lots done. I cried as I weeded my garden, I cried as I did the laundry and I cried as I took out the recycling. I later called to check in for the 900th time and could hear Ashiah in Aleksandra's arms babbling happily and although this made me smile, I hung up and cried again. My baby is happy with another woman, whaaaaa.

Good grief.

But when I picked her up she was all smiles to see me, I got lots of hugs and cuddles and after a quick nursing she wanted to go back and play. So all in all I'm thankful that it's going so well especially since I've given myself all of July to integrate her and am only scheduled to work 2 days until August. Great, now I have a whole month to cry it out so I don't end up a blubbering fool at work. It is only for 3 days a week but they're going to feel like weeks with all I get done without my baby around. I realized just how much of my time she truly takes and just how productive I can be again.

But I wouldn't trade this time with her for years of productive days.

Lovey dovey and gouey

So yesterday was the big day. I taught my course and no one heckled me, I didn't faint or even fumble. I actually got mostly 5's (out of 5) on the evaluations, even in "knowledgeable in subject matter". hehe

Basically 2 nights before the course my boss suggested I speak with an associate instructor who's been teaching the same course for 13 years. She thought he might be able to give me some 'helpful hints'. I don't think he's familiar with those words. He opened the conversation with "well if you had any fears about teaching this course I'm here to confirm them all". And it went on and on from there. By the end of it I was very discouraged, hung up and burst into tears.

Thankfully, I have a very understanding and supportive partner who gave me a hug, dropped his own work and helped me prepare. He not only served as my guinea pig student but he also spruced up my power point for me. Now this friends is the true definition of love. Never mind all the lovey dovey gouey stuff (although that's lovely too) but when push comes to shove, the one you love is there - a true partner in life. I feel that I couldn't have done it without him. Am now back in the professional saddle and thanks to my Greg I found the courage to deliver a very solid presentation despite it obviously being too compressed which the students agreed with.

Ironically, I used my negative experience with my colleague as an example in the course to illustrate how not to act in a team. Of course I didn't mention that it was 'their' particular course he was talking about. So really, I should thank him for having given me an illustration of how not to be a prick.

Meanwhile, back at the homestead, I've de-stressed, am back to gardening and Greg's currently mowing down on some homemade sheppard's pie I cooked up last night while Ashiah tries drawing for the first time. And life is good.

A DAY TO REMEMBER!

Yes I admit it, I now join the roster of boasting proud parents but this is a BIG deal!

Today at 10.5 months old our little girl walked for the first time! She took 6 consecutive steps in a row by herself and then repeated the feat back and forth between Mummy and Daddy. It was very exciting and of course, Mummy shed a few tears. Our baby is growing up!

For a few days now, she's been standing for longer periods on her own and then she'd take one or two steps between a table and the couch and we weren't sure this counted as her first official steps yet. But today she let go of the table and off she went. She was so very proud of herself, big smile and she got lots of kisses, hugs and praise. Daddy filmed it with his cell phone, which isn't admittedly the best quality but at least we captured it. Bad bad Mummy and Daddy for having put off buying the new camera with video. Must do this tomorrow.

And now comes the fun part - it's already been interesting trying to keep up with her feats of climbing lately and her turbo crawl but now she'll really be mobile!

Lookout world, Ashiah Phoenix is on the move and we'll be behind her all the way!

Bean pole update

Our squirmy little darling got a clean bill of health today. We now know why everyone says she's so "light". She is on the lower scale for weight (19 pounds) but she's very tall for her age at 79cm or 31.2 inches. This was confirmed when we stopped for coffee after the appointment in Wakefield and she towered over a 14 month old baby boy who was there.

Otherwise she's become very chatty and very very busy. We usually dress her in overalls because she's always climbing through the dirt outside or manages to wear her food. She prefers to eat on her own and doesn't like being fed as much anymore. Loves avocado and new favorite: eggs. And definitely an affinity for sweets, tasted ice cream and went crazy. She hollers loudly now when she wants more food which is a problem in a restaurant now so we tend to stick to busy loud places now. No more romantic candlelit fine cuisine for us!

She still stands on her own for longer periods of time now and will walk around if we hold her hand but not walking on her own yet. I can't imagine how we'll catch her when she does since we have a tough enough time keeping up with her while she crawls - or climbs. Oh yeah, she's a climber. Give her 2 seconds beside stairs or a ladder and she'll be at the top before you know it. Doesn't seem to mind heights or even fast swings, a li'l daredevil. (this she definitely gets from daddy)

Otherwise most people say she looks like mommy but today the doctor said "boy does she ever look like her daddy". I have to tell him this, he'll be very pleased.

Bed time seems to be a bit less of a struggle now in her crib although night before last she woke up shortly after she went down and was very very unhappy. I stood my ground and mommy won that round, however stressful and difficult it was to let her cry. One of many more battles to be won in her lifetime am sure... sigh. I guess this is the meaning to "tough love". And love her we do, more than anything.

My life in a Network Diagram

How is it that you can't wait for one stressful thing to be resolved only to realize that you now have to face another more stressful thing?

I swear to gawd I'm developing an ulcer, or a stomach tumor, or maybe it's irritable bowel syndrome, or maybe it's just another bloody thing to stress about.

So I got the job. Yippee right? Not. I am officially supposed to start in August. But they need me to come in sooner to go through a few things and to teach my first course. Great! I'll make as much money in one day as I would in two weeks on EI. Yippee, right? Wrong.

I'm in over my head. What the hell was I thinking? For the past year my life has been about tending to my baby's needs, dirty dishes, diapers, laundry, floors, running errands, well you get the picture. It has not been about project management - well that is, not in the professional sense. Yes, this is the course I'm slated to teach to 15 unsuspecting students. Can I use motherhood as an example of my project management skills? I can just see myself building a network diagram that outlines tasks to reach milestones, mine being "managed to shower", "showered and brushed my teeth before bed", "ate a warm meal", "ran 3 errands in one day", "had sex", "fit into pre-pregnancy clothes". "Now class, please outline all the tasks involved to reach each of those milestones." I can picture the blank faces now.

Oh and might I add that Ashiah isn't weaned yet - my goal is one year, or 2 weeks before I officially start work- so for now I'll be pumping over the lunch hour which is a better alternative to suddenly leaking milk through my blouse in front of a class of government employees. I can just hear the unsuspecting woman who walks into the washroom and wonders what the vibrating noise coming from one of the stalls is. Nice.

Can you say "aaaaagggggghhhhhh" with me?

A good day

It's been a good day. Best I've had in a long while and might I added, much needed.

Two of my major stresses as of late have been resolved. I've secured a new job - not just any job, but one where I can work part-time as of August and yet make as much income as I would full-time which will allow me to spend more time with my beautiful girl. And I've found a daycare for Ashiah when I do work, an all organic, chemical free daycare nearby in a private home with a lovely woman who has a 14 month old baby who basically looks like a 4 month older version of Ashiah and they get on swimmingly. I'm very happy and feel much more settled now. I can now focus on integrating Ashiah into a new routine and I also get to integrate myself slowly into my new job over the next 2 months since they need me for a day here and there. Smashing.

We went out for a celebratory dinner in Wakefield tonight with my wonderful, most genuine friend Orla and it was lovely...apart from the slow service, it was lovely. We came home and sipped some expensive wine we bought in Sonoma Valley and munched on sweets Orla picked up for us. Ashiah went to bed without too much protest and as I watched her fall asleep I felt blessed to have such a beautiful sweet baby. She's growing up so fast now, stands on her own and even occasionally takes a few steps here and there, I can't believe she'll soon be walking already. She's very vocal now, extremely social and very very busy and already has quite a developed personality complete with likes and dislikes something that amazes me every day. Yesterday I asked her to show me the sheep on the fridge amongst the magnetic animals and she pointed to it. I then told her to push the button and she did. This may seem trivial, but it really was outstanding in my world that my little 10 month old daughter could understand me so completely. Thrilling is not an overstatement.

And lastly Greg and I connected in a way we haven't for some time today just because we've had so much to deal with and it was lovely.

I feel happy and hopeful today. Yes, a good day.

Cinderella - The Sequel

There are 3 words I've come to fear terribly "blocked duct" and "mastitis". I've had BD's about 3 times now and for the past 3 days have had the dreaded M word. It's like having a really bad flu with fever with the added plus of your boob swelling up like a melon so it looks like you have a tumor ('cause there's not enough to stress about of course) and it hurts like hell. This coupled with several other major stressers going on as of late and even my doctor feeling very sorry for me this morning have left me wanting my own mommy for the first time in as long as I can possibly remember.

It's weird how you can at once be grateful for the many blessings in your life like my amazing daughter who lights up our lives with a flash of that incomparable smile, or the love of my partner who is such a great daddy or that my doggie is still alive and well despite his 17 years of life, and truly the list goes on ... and yet at the same time you can at times get so bogged down and find it hard to breathe even; sometimes because of the very blessings you love so much and wouldn't trade for the world? Does that make any sense?

Like how I miss sleep (I think I just heard angels sing as I typed the word) so much, or how I miss not having to be Cinderella all the time (minus of course that bit with the pumpkin, fabulous dress and shoes) although I did of course find Prince Charming... but then of course there should be a sequel called "Sleepy Cinderella gets Mastitis, loses her short term memory and cleans up after mini Princess & Prince Charming for the rest of her life and they live happily ever after until she dies at the age of 35 from sheer exhaustion" - a reality book for children.

Well when all else fails, there's always sarcasm to save the day...or my short term sanity. Here's to you Allie.

The Interview

I have been dreading this day for awhile now, my first interview after such a long reprieve from the workplace. But it went much better than expected. That is, I assume it went very well since they took me around and introduced me to the entire office and said "welcome to the team". Umm, okay "well we're discussing the possibilities" I said and we need to negotiate this but it seems they were pretty interested. If I manage to negotiate this right, I could potentially only have to be away from Ashiah about 2.5 days a week for the most part and the money's decent. This would really be very ideal.

So this initial interview behind me I'm feeling a lot less stressed. I know nothing is set in stone yet but the fact that it went so well helped me feel like although I've been out of touch with things for awhile that there still is more to me than just being a mommy and that felt good. I wore a business suit and heels for the first time in over a year and I guess it's all just like riding a bike. It felt as though my life as Sam had been put on pause and today I pushed play again. So bizarre. But I must admit that I missed my daughter even after only a few hours and was elated to see her beaming face at me in her daddy's arms when I got home.

To anyone who reads this...

I really have no clue if anyone does read this to be honest - I write because it's cathartic mostly and a good way for family far away to catch up on various musings about our life if they are curious.

But I realized after a few friends have said that they weren't able to comment that this was my bad - I had disabled this feature. I've now activated it so that anyone can comment and this way I will know if anyone does read this. :)

Well Ashiah's destroying the bathroom gotta go!

Stressed yet Blessed

I can't recall the last time I felt this stressed out about most everything in my life like I do right now. There's just so much to be done in the next month I feel nauseous thinking about it.

Finding a new job - and not just any job but one that will pay the right amount for the least amount of time away from Ashiah will not be an easy feat. (I've 2 interviews this week - bleck.) Then finding the right kind of childcare for her that will be flexible with this new job will also be difficult - no, the most difficult decision of my life thus far I think - quadruple bleck! This aside, there are health issues to deal with, financial issues, major household reorganization to be done and one petit a cote is that I will be turning a year older in this incredibly stressful life altering month. bleck bleck bleck

And yet although I am close to being a walking nervous breakdown waiting to happen, I look at my daughter and can't help but feel an instant surge of joy because she is the embodiment of goodness and happiness and warmth and wonder. And despite us all being sick with the flu this weekend, and Greg and I having some serious "mommy & daddy" talks about the many issues we have on our plate, we took time to go outside and enjoy the smells of Spring and we fed the little chippies (chipmunks) who ate out of my hand and raked some leaves and sat in the sun and visited with our fabulous neighbors and shared some family cuddles.

I'm sitting by a very cozy fire now, nestled in a bean bag chair, Ashiah asleep and Greg reading his book on the couch opposite me and despite the gazillion thoughts bouncing around in my head of all the stressful things on my to do list, I still feel very blessed that I get to be stressed about a life that I share with two very extraordinary people that form our family tripod.

Firsts...

Our whirlwind trip to Vancouver/Seattle/Victoria marked several firsts for Ashiah. Aside from her usual clapping when we say "yay" my Aunt Diana taught her to wave her arms in the air when we say "hooray". She also said "Mama" for the first time - I asked her if she could say it and she did clear as a bell in front of Daddy and his brother and wife and I cried. Yep, I did. Just to be sure I asked her "who's Mama" and she put her hand on me. Yay.

She also cut her two top teeth (which put her in an unusually cranky mood). She also stood on her own without holding anything for several seconds - I said "Ashiah, you're standing, you're standing!" and she seemed to have understood because she looked at the ground and around her and sat down. Very funny.

She also has her first cold, not sure who got it first, her or her Daddy but as she and Daddy are on the tail end of it, I'm now sick as a dog today. Barely slept all night, Ashiah was up several times since she's all confused with time zones now and Greg worked all night. I'd just gotten to sleep when he crawled into bed and woke up Ashiah so now I'm up and desperately trying to stay awake while he sleeps happily. He was supposed to be coming to bed in half an hour - that was at 1am. Ugh, am not impressed. He smiled his sheepish grin and pulled the covers over his head 'cause he knows mommy's not a happy camper.

Missing family today. Was so nice to see my Auntie Di in Victoria and Ashiah loved her and the rest of the family when we saw them at dinner. She was just so comfortable with everyone, it's almost like she knew they were family. She also loved her Auntie Noel and Cousin Jericho. Would be nice to have them all closer - and also for some reprieve now and again especially like days like today. Mommy's shouldn't get sick. It should be a cosmic rule.

Our secret weapon

Babies are so cute, and innocent and cuddly and VIOLENT!

No one told me we'd have a min Jackie Chan on our hands. It's amazing how much pain such a little person can inflict. I mean, forget a "Beware of Dog" sign, how about "Beware of Baby". I mean, if an intruder came in, we could just throw the baby at him and first she could claw him to bits with her baby claws that pose as cute little finger nails. You should see the scratches I have sometimes!

Then she could use her sweet little hands to pinch his skin to bits on his neck, chest and face. For some reason, this is very fun. Then she could use her signature move, the head butt, and break his nose or give him a couple black eyes. I sported a nice dark purple one a couple weeks ago that turned to a lovely green'ish color after awhile - between my black eye and the scratches on my face I was beginning to look like a battered woman. Of course anyone who knows me would laugh at the suggestion - hey I'm French and Irish, I hit back.

And then to top it off she could kick him in the gut and ribs a few times with her karate-like baby kicks that pack a good blow. The poor guy would be so taken aback we'd just have to sock him a good punch to finish him off and voila!

So forget that alarm system, get your 'Sumo Baby 2008' today!

West Coast is where it's at

I woke up feeling rather sorry for myself today - lack of sleep I guess, falling down the stairs last night and maybe breaking my toe (who knows), bored and lonely with Greg at his conference, my family back in Victoria where I just spent a couple days, my phone being broken, my plans for tonight being canceled, stressing about what the hell kind of job I'm going to find come June and dealing with a very cranky PDA (Princess Dictator Ashiah) - her new name while she cuts her top two teeth this week.

I was faced with an exciting new day of finding G diapers (a great enviro travel diaper btw) which were apparently carried in a store about 20 blocks away on foot and finding a cell phone store. En route I happened across a very funky consignment shop called Bohemia and tried on some tres fun clothes. Bought a top cause the lady said it showed off my waist and since I've been without one for the last 9 months this cheered me up some. As I continued along with only a light jean jacket on, taking in the smells of Spring and the myriads of Magnolia trees, Hyacinth flowers and perfectly manicured lawns I suddenly happened upon a movie shoot with about 30 crew members having lunch on the sidewalk, cameras and gear everywhere, a fenced in set - pretty cool considering we never happen upon movie sets around Ottawa.

I finally made it to the food store I'd been referred to and it happened to be a Whole Foods chain - a store I fell in love with in Washington. We simply have nothing like it back home and why that is I don't know. Everything in this perfectly manicured store is exquisite, organic and wonderful. It makes Loblaws look like a Food Basics.

And then en-route home I went through this fabulous neighborhood called Pleasant Park and met a very lovely lady who owns and personally restored the 4 first heritage homes in Vancouver and she opened the gate to show me the grounds in behind. Simply gorgeous. I actually fell in love with the little gingerbread house on the opposite corner, complete with vine covered trellis' along the little paths up to the door - currently for sale for a cool 2.5 mil - my little dream of buying it quickly shattered. But the lady was lovely as was the man with her who wrote the book on Vancouver's heritage homes and he gave me a quick history. I've been invited to come back and show Greg if I like.

All in all, I came back feeling much better than when I set out. And a fun cap to the afternoon was Ashiah waving at all the pedestrians - her royal wave as my Aunt Di put it this week.

Okay SpongeBob Square Pants is not entertaining PDA so gotta go.

Sleepless in Seattle

I haven't slept in 4 days. No that's not true. Technically I slept for an hour in the underground parking lot in the car this morning when we arrived here in Seattle. Greg had a meeting first thing so we left Vancouver at 7am after my 4th sleepless night, got here, bought a stroller in about 10 minutes and headed for Greg's meeting. We arranged to call each other at 12:30 but low and behold he found Ashiah and I in the car where he'd left us in the car park at just that time. I banked on the fact that Ashiah just kept sleeping and curled up into an uncomfortable ball across the two front seats of our rented Matrix.

Aside from lack of sleep, I suffer from ridiculous motion sickness and after having sat in the backseat with Ashiah for half the drive feeding and entertaining her, I was terribly nauseous and dizzy. I think Greg said "and there's the Space Needle" and I was about as excited about that as I would have been had he said to look at a lamp post. All I want(ed) was(is) to sleep - sleep - sleep. I've also become quite adept at breastfeeding while leaning over her car seat. Smashing good fun watching the looks on drivers faces as they see me most uncomfortably hunched over my child, boob hanging out, my face pressed near the window with a "u better stop staring if u know what's good for u mister " look. But what's pride when faced with a screaming child while stuck in a moving vehicle?

After having lunch at an exquisite Asian fusion restaurant (highlight of the day) Ashiah and I are now holed up in the Crown Plaza while Greg is at another meeting because I have no desire to go and check out what seems like quite a lovely ocean-side city right now - I'm just sitting here waiting for my daughter's next nap. Not to mention I don't want to use the new stroller since we're going to return it for the pink one. I ridiculously reasoned that we couldn't get the funky brown and pink one because who knows if we might have another baby one day and it might be a boy. But even if that were so, then we'd have to chuck this stroller whether it were pink purple or green because we'd need a double since there's no way we're having another kid in like 5 years when Ashiah will likely always walk on her own. It's either in the next 3 or c'est tout.

Do mothers with 2 kids ever sleep actually? Is there a secret mother cloning operation out there I'm not aware of? She just fell asleep. Gotta go.

Doomsday fast approaching...

I suddenly loathe June 13th. This is the day I've been told my benefits will run out. And this means that I must go back to work and find someone to look after my 10 month old baby. Nothing and I mean nothing could have prepared me for how sad I feel about this. Granted, we have much better benefits than the US or many other places in the world. I realize that. And granted, I will likely try and find part-time work and hopefully work from home so that I don't have to be away from Ashiah more than necessary. But even as I took my night off tonight and Greg looked after her, I missed her tons. She's become my best little friend, my 24 hour companion for the last 8 months now and it feels as though I will have to part with a limb come June. No, I think that would be easier.

I'm trying to find some positive aspects to it - telling myself how social she is and how happy she is when she gets to play with her nephew or a little girl on our road and how it will add to her development to be with other children. And when we return from vacation (we leave tomorrow for about 2 weeks to Vancouver) we're going to start slowly by having her sat for an hour twice a week by a neighbor on my road who has a little 2 year old Ashiah likes to play with. And slowly I will start to let go of my little girl... can it be so soon!!

Hopefully, please let her take her first steps to me and not a caregiver or I think I'll simply die.

She is SO much fun now, such a little character, so busy, crawling everywhere, into every nook and cranny, removes all the books from the shelves and emptying the cupboard is much fun! She says Dada now when she sees him much to our delight and points to Mama when I ask her where Mama is and points to her toes when we ask her where they are - all massive achievements in the life of an 8 month old and never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined how fascinated I would be with every new achievement in my daughter's life.

And I really don't care much what it is I have to do come June in order to make enough money for us to get by so long as it allows me to be with her as much as possible. I have no career aspirations right now, couldn't care less. I so totally get it now. I'm a mother. I'm Ashiah's mother. And there's no better thing in the world.

Mommy Brain

I think the lack of a full night's uninterrupted sleep for 8 months has finally caught up with me.

I'm so tired and forgetful lately it's ridiculous. About a month ago I locked Ashiah and I out of the house in the minus 30 degree cold. A couple weeks ago I locked us out of the house where we were dogsitting in town (to be fair though the wind slammed the door shut and I didn't have the keys on me). But yesterday took the cake.

I went to the post office and Ashiah was asleep in the car so I didn't want to wake her for a 5 minute stop. I parked next to the door, ran in, got a couple envelopes, explained that my daughter was asleep in the car and asked if I could fill them in the car. No problem. Went back to the car, filled my envelopes and went back inside for stamps. As I returned to the car I couldn't locate the keys. That's because I left them in the locked car. And Ashiah woke up.

I can't explain the sheer utter panic that pierced through my body. I tried every window to no avail. I called Greg at home in a panic and told him to come quickly. By now Ashiah's screaming and I want to cry but am keeping it together so she won't be more upset. Two nice ladies stood with me trying to think of ways to help. If you want to meet your fellow town folk there's no better way than to lock your 8mth old in the car at the post office at rush hour. I'll likely make the local paper.

Anyway, one of the nice ladies went to the garage and came back to say someone was on their way. Greg called the post office and explained he couldn't find his keys. I felt so helpless. I knew she was safe and okay but not being able to get to my crying baby was about the worse feeling I've ever experienced in my life. (She's currently very busy pulling every book off of Daddy's bookshelf, very cute.)

In the end the garage guy saved the day, didn't charge me and I wanted to hug him but didn't. I embraced my daughter and shook hands with the nice lady who stood there talking to me trying to keep my mind off my screaming daughter and the trauma was over.

What a spaz I've become. I never used to lose anything - EVER! I'm a klutz, that's for certain, but I never lost anything. I told my girlfriend the story today and she said that since my daughter was napping I needed to go nap as well. She said to just screw the dishes and whatever else I have to get done and sleep when she sleeps. She's right. I feel rested now. Never could I have imagined that this "mommy brain" thing would become such a reality.

I walk into a room and forget why I went in practically once a day. I go to the store to buy something and return home with 10 other things minus the thing I went for. I've started to write everything down now but forget to look at the notes. It's madness. That coupled with poor Greg's ADD leaves me feeling even more neurotic now.

I considered leaving the house this evening. But then decided against it...just in case.

Great Big Sea got it right

Funerals are such dismal affairs. Of course death is sad, I have a tough time with it myself. But why should the ceremony leave you feeling worse than when you arrived? All this sitting and standing, bleakness and repetitive empty words.

My aunt died Friday and I attended the funeral this morning. I arrived as the family was in a separate room, gathered around the open casket with the priest, everyone sobbing to say their final goodbyes. My Dad who'd held it together till then saw me and began crying in my arms. It was hard to see him and my other aunt so overcome - they lost their mother when they were 9 and 6 and my now deceased aunt acted as a surrogate mum to them growing up.

Meanwhile, the rest of the people in attendance sat in a room in silence listening to some extremely depressing organ music. We filed in and the priest began to reminisce about Lois, her life, how she was with children, what a good wife and friend she was. He must have named her about a dozen times, which would have been a really nice touch except that her name is Pauline. Everyone was turning to one another "who's Lois, who's Lois" and finally my other aunt stood up and corrected him. Turns out "father forgetful" had his mind on Lois, the young pretty blond lady who's job is to stand and sing a song during the service. Hmm. This would be the second service in my family where the priest forgets the deceased name.

Thankfully my Aunt Jo stood up and related some cheerful anecdotes to liven things up a bit but I use the word 'liven' loosely. Bloody hell. Why couldn't everyone get together with some upbeat music playing and take turns relating fun stories, and maybe have someone else make note of all the person's accomplishments, legacies, children, grandchildren etc? And why, oh why, do people still insist on viewing an over inflated, extremely made over corpse of the deceased? It's not even them anymore, it's just awful.

I mean our family is after all of Irish descent - Murphy's - pretty Irish eh? and I couldn't help thinking of that song by Great Big Sea:

Oh the night that Paddy Murphy died, is a night I'll never forget
Some of the boys got loaded drunk, and they ain't got sober yet;
As long as a bottle was passed around every man was feelin' gay
O'Leary came with the bagpipes, some music for to play

That's how they showed their respect for Paddy Murphy
That's how they showed their honour and their pride;
They said it was a sin and shame and they winked at one another
And every drink in the place was full the night Pat Murphy died

Now that's gonna be my funeral. And you can play this damn song to liven it up a bit!

an "overnight" stay...

Last Sunday, we went to Toronto for an "overnight" stay to see Greg's Dad who was in from Dryden. And of course we were packed for an overnight stay. We used hotwire.com to book our hotel as we usually do and stayed at the Renaissance. Once there we realized that by the time we'd spend some quality time with Grandpa that we wouldn't be on the road till early evening and that would mean that Ashiah wouldn't sleep once home so we opted to stay an extra night. We "hotwired" our hotel again and ended up at the Hilton. Then Ashiah got sick for the first time with crazy diarrhea and vomiting. Poor thing, she was such a trooper, didn't even cry after she projectile'd all over mommy and we had to hop into the shower fully dressed.

Now it's Tuesday and Greg has to get some work done before we can leave. Once done we stop to eat and now it's late afternoon, a snowstorm begins and the windshield wipers break. We manage to find a garage and set ourselves up in a nearby coffee shop for several hours. The car finally repaired we now face driving in a snowstorm and Ashiah wouldn't sleep the night once home again. So we opt to stay for 2 more nights because Greg's sister happens to be coming into town the following night and it would be good to see her. Now in need of fresh clothing we quickly run to the mall for a 1 hour shopping spree and book ourselves into the Sheraton for 2 nights - which by the way had the best service. Ashiah has survived on a bag of clothing I had in the car to give away - although mostly too small for her, we managed.

All the while, Ashiah's still sick and I take her to a local clinic that says we've done all the right things (pedialyte etc.) and not to worry it will pass. We finally set off for home Thursday afternoon, it's sunny, everyone's in a good mood after a fun family dinner the night previous, Ashiah's doing better and all is well. We stop off at a roadside eatery for a snack. Big mistake.

About 15 minutes later I begin to feel very nauseous. I already suffer from bad car sickness and I'm in the backseat because Ashiah was upset. I ask Greg to pull over at the Kingston exit so I can hurl. 4 stops later, we haven't left Kingston, I'm still vomiting, extremely weak and suddenly can't feel my limbs. Greg brings me to hospital where I'm admitted. I can't even stand at this point and am still vomiting so I can't hold Ashiah who's now screaming for me in the adjacent room the hospital provided for Greg and Ashiah to stay in. I have to say, they were some of the kindest nurses I've ever encountered other than at Ashiah's birth. But regardless, it was a nightmare - hearing my baby scream and not even being able to move a muscle to get to her. It was awful. Poor Greg was trying everything but this time not even Daddy could calm her. The second nurse who tended to me could see that despite the heavy medication they gave me to sedate me I was fighting sleep and I started to cry because I wanted my baby. So they brought her into the bed with me and I nursed her and we both fell asleep.

Then Greg began to feel ill. So he was off to bed too. They diagnosed me with food poisoning and dehydration. Oddly enough however, we found out that Grandpa has also been ill so I wonder if the food might have set off a dormant virus given to us by baby? Who knows. Anyhow, the hospital we found actually closes and they had to either transfer me to the bigger one around 6am or they offered to find us a hotel where we could try and rest and return if we didn't improve. With baby and the threat of various viruses in hospital, we opted for the hotel - the Peachtree Inn I think it was and there we remained till earlier today. Greg felt better yesterday and went out for some baby food and jello and popsicles, I remained in bed. Greg was so wonderful despite feeling very ill himself - it was so hard to look after a baby with both of us sick in the hotel and I suddenly really longed for our own mothers. But Greg's such an amazing Daddy, I am so very proud of him and love him so very much. We are lucky to be such a very special tripod :)

And now we're home and having all napped again when we got in, we're all up at this ridiculous hour and Ashiah won't sleep till much later not to mention that her original very difficultly attained 10pm bedtime is now down the drain. So moral of the story is we should have just come home Monday night I guess - how ironic!

2 dogs a cat and a baby

I haven't had the strength to blog till now because I've finally recuperated from last week. I've discovered that a 17 year old cocker spaniel, a 3 year old golden retriever, a 7 year old cat and an 8 month old baby when put together will give you an eye twitch. No really!

Two Thursdays ago, my friend who houses my now very senior cocker spaniel and my cat (because Greg is extremely allergic to them) went to Colorado for a ski trip. Naturally I was going to sit them since they are of course MY pets. So it was agreed that I would move into his house with the baby for a week and Greg thought this would be a good time for him to embark on a whirlwind work trip that took him from Vancouver to Seattle to San Fran to Washington to home in 5 days. We agreed that from Thursday to Saturday night before his departure, the dogs would come up to the cabin with us so Greg could be with Ashiah longer and he could walk and play with Calum the very enthusiastic Golden and would endure the sniffles for a few days. Then on Sunday, he would help me pack up the herd and all our belongings and help us get settled in our new digs and off he would go. The cat would be okay for a few nights alone. Good plan?

Wrong. Bad plan, very very bad plan.

For starters, Greg is still sniffling after a complete sterilizing of the house and about 10 loads of laundry, all blankets sheets cushions clothes etc. I'm still not done the laundry and am back trying to figure out some reason and miracle cure for poor Greg's animal allergies.

But that's really not the bad part. We ended up getting the snowstorm of a century and were snowed in at the cabin till Monday. Greg had to hike up to the highway through knee high snow in his runners (no need for boots where he was going) with his luggage and grab a cab to the airport to catch a very delayed plane. Meanwhile, I waited for the bulldozer to come dig us out. After 7 trips from the house to the car, the car was finally packed. Whiskey, my 17 year old cocker is having terrible bowel problems now and had pooh'ed in my car on the way to the cabin so that now it was frozen in the middle of the console and smelled fabulous. I hacked away at it with a knife swearing to myself in the freezing cold. I finally got both dogs, the baby and all the luggage in and off we went to Ottawa.

Once established in town, it was a week of picking up pooh, running after dogs and baby (who is now very good at crawling and getting into everything) and keeping them separate. On Wednesday I went to speak to the neighbors about Whiskey's now incessant barking and the wind slammed the door to the house shut and I was locked outside with only my boots on. Thank God I'd dressed Ashiah. Half an hour and $60 later, the locksmith who couldn't pick the very complex locks took a crow bar to the patio door and we were in. Great, now I'd broken my friend's door, something else to stress about. I hightailed it to Ashiah's doctor's appointment in Wakefield (half hour drive) and an idiot woman who thought she had enough room to pass side swiped me and the parked car beside her despite my waving no, taking out a huge gash in the parked car and denting mine and she took off. I got to the doctor's appointment and they said there had been a mistake and we were an hour early - this after I undressed a sleeping baby. Fast forward to 7 pm when I just want to sit and eat and my sister called with a frantic nephew needing assistance so it was back in the car and off to Hull where I helped bathe, feed and put to bed my 1.5 year old nephew and console my poor sister who had a hell'ish week herself back and forth from the hospital with my nephew sick with the flu.

Anyway, I survived the week but was sad that it wasn't the "cuddle with my pets fest" that I'd hoped it to be. I was frazzled and my nerves were shot by the time Greg got home at midnight Friday.

Despite everything however, I miss my boys now... Whiskey, Calum and Wookie. I miss them all terribly. I hope they somehow know that I still love them even if I can't always be with them or look after them the way they deserve. They will always remain my first babies... but furrier.

Milestones

It's interesting how we tend to stop recording milestones as we get older. Hmm, first time I saw a whale with my own eyes....geez, how old was I, 25/26? First time on a plane....hmm, I think I was also around 25. First time I put my feet in the Atlantic ocean...I think I was around 20? First time in the Pacific...26? First time off this continent, age 33. First time attending a birth, age 33. First time giving birth, age 34. First time writing a blog, 34.

Point is, every time my daughter crosses a new milestone she is so excited and proud of herself and so are we. I tend to try and keep track of every fascinating thing she does now so she, and we, can go back and remember it, but I've now realized that her whole life is going to be one new adventure and fascinating milestone after another and that I could write endlessly - because really, life should never stop being fascinating, nor should we become so jaded that we forget to mark our continued milestones and be proud of them.

First time learning to appreciate and record life's milestones: age 34.

The teacher of this life's lesson: my daughter, age 7 months.


To family members, here are a few of Ashiah's milestones:

First road trip: 1 mth (to Toronto for Daddy's Ultimate game)
First plane trip: 2 mths (to Washington - Daddy's work trip)
Grasps things in her hands: 3 mths
First dip in a pool: 4 mths (in Hawaii on family vacation)
First time trying solids: 4 mths
First time jumping in jolly jumper: 4 mths
Sitting up alone: 5 mths
First family winter holiday: 5 mths (Winnipeg in December)
First time standing up alone while holding something: 6 mths
First time being without Mommy and only with Daddy for more than 4 hours: 6 mths
Implementation of Mommy/Daddy Wednesday date night and being babysat: 6 mths
Transferring from Mommy & Daddy's bed to the bassinet: 6 mths
First temper tantrum: 6 mths
First big accident: 6 mths (split her bottom gum on coffee table)
First two teeth (bottom): 6 mths
First time seeing fish and sharks under water: 7 mths (San Francisco)
First time sitting in and touching snow: 7 mths
First time clapping: 7 mths
First time crawling: 7 mths (Ashiah's mastered the innovative "crab" crawl
First visit to the Children's hospital: 7 mths (fell off the bed on her head, thankfully mild injury)

Identity Crisis

Sometimes it's hard to remember that I'm still Sam. You know, just Sam, not "The Mommy". Don't misunderstand me, I love being Ashiah's Mommy! But you rarely seem to hear your name anymore as a parent "okay come to Mommy" ,"go see Mommy", or "how's Mommy today". Same with the Daddy. We've become three new entities, 3 full time roles, The Mommy, The Daddy and The Baby.

What's strange is that people often think that since you've spawned life, you will automatically get along with others who have. "Oh, I simply have to introduce you to so and so, they have a baby too!" I've learned to dread this phrase. Take the most recent meeting. One look at her and I can see that this is going to be terribly painful. Her hair is casually pulled back in what looks like a hemp bandanna, she's wearing sandals and socks, no bra because even though she's breastfeeding, she still has little perky breasts as opposed to my new 20 pound udders. And is that a grass skirt? She has a calmness to her and a smile that makes her look as though she's perpetually high. As my fidgety daughter molests her calm stoic son on the blanket beside us, after several drawn out silences I find out she's lived in India and is working on her Masters in something...I can't recall what, but she's enlightened and I'm happily...not. I suggest a walk so that we have some distraction to conversation. Don't get me wrong, she's very nice and so sweet, but I'm hard pressed to find any common ground between us.

Also, as "The Mommy" one can now apparently take for granted that I am not only an expert but would simply love to converse endlessly about every type of wrap, car seat, stroller, pacifier, bottle, toy, shoe, diaper, etc. made out there. Don't get me wrong, it's good to exchange information sometimes but this is not what defines me.

I personally think that being a parent doesn't make you an expert on children, it makes you an expert on your child.

Greg has kindly explained to me that this new phenomena I'm experiencing is due to the fact that most people define themselves by what they do, their careers. And when they suddenly become Moms and career takes a backseat, they need to redefine themselves and they often do so by becoming expert Moms, carefully researched in every aspect from paraphernalia to child rearing.

Okay I get it now. But just so you know, I'm still Sam, I just happen to be a mommy too.

Love at third pregnancy test

A little history of how we got from being under the Eiffel Tower to having this little munchkin pictured here February 14, 2007 in Sonoma, California.












We were both in startup companies, I was a Director of Sales & Mrktg. for a new local tech newspaper called SCAN (www.nationalcapitalscan.ca) and Greg was, and is the Director of the North American counterpart of a UK-based NGO called BioRegional and heads up "One Planet Communities"in North America. (http://www.bioregional.com/oneplanetcommunities/na)

I was in musical theater when we met on an online dating site (I wasn't interested in a relationship at the time but had a basic profile up to help a friend who was having a hard time joining the site... long story ...) back in Feb'06 and I was deep in rehearsals for West Side Story. Greg was leaving in a week to work in the UK for 3 months so he was very persistent in seeing me often that first week despite my reluctance. He kept me interested with his persistence, amazing life stories and charm and impressed me with a gifted singing voice. We kept in touch frequently during his time away and he invited me to visit him there for a week in April 'o6 which I did. While there he took me to Paris and we began to fall in love (how very cliche I know). When he returned in May, we spent much of the summer traveling and kayaking in Vancouver with the Orcas, camping, kayaking and whale watching in NB and in Tadoussac. (I'm an avid whale lover, Greg an avid kayaker). He introduced me to Ultimate frisbee (his team won the Nationals that year) and I intro'd him to theater. Things were moving along swimmingly.

In September we had THE talk about moving in together and by October we decided to wait awhile yet since there was no rush, all was grand, and I found a dream 1800 sq ft apartment in an old Victorian heritage house and he was happy in his log cabin nestled in the woods. The day after I signed my new lease I realized that Aunt Rose hadn't visited in awhile not to mention I seemed to be suffering from a perpetual leaky faucet. So I took a pregnancy test in my new empty apartment and you can guess the result. 3 tests later I was convinced...

The next few months are a bit of blur. That same week both Greg and I became an Aunt and an Uncle with 2 nephews being born, we found out we were pregnant and my grandmother died. It was crazy. Greg was extremely supportive and I moved in with him a month later to what is now "our" cabin in the woods in Chelsea by the river. It was baptism by fire - living together, moving to the woods, leaving my most beloved pets with a friend (Greg's allergic), giving up our once extremely busy schedule to accommodate nausea, fatigue and household reorganization and dealing with a new grumpy, lethargic and emotionally volatile me. Smashing good fun.

But here we are now, our daughter Ashiah is 7 months old and we are both happier and feel more fulfilled and more proud of this accomplishment in our lives than anything else.

I've now learned that sometimes the path you think you should be on will unexpectedly lead you to one you hadn't considered but was ultimately the right one all along. Who new?

Welcome to life with Iggle Piggle...

...it seems only fitting to begin with an explanation as to who or what Iggle Piggle is. Unless you're a BBC-watching parent or unless you're a frequent flyer like Greg is (aka "the daddy" to our 7 mth old) and you've caught the show on the children's menu on the plane (those new planes with your own personalized TV screen where you can choose from a ridiculously vast menu of options, so vast, that by the time you choose what you want to watch you likely won't have time to finish watching it...but I digress) basically you'd have no clue as to what an "Iggle Piggle" was.

Iggle Piggle happens to be the main character of a children's show called "In the Night Garden" and our 7 month old daughter Ashiah Phoenix (aka Princess Ashiah Phoenix Bird) has been hooked on it since she's 4 months old. How in the world can a 4 month old who's just learned to sit up on her own and who's vocabulary is limited to "mmm" have a favorite show? I don't know. But she does and in our world that's been simply smashing! A whole half hour a day where she's mesmerized by a blue plush Gumby-like character and his sidekicks Upsy Daisy, Makka Pakka, the Tombliboos, the Pontipines, the Wotingers and the Hahoos... I think. I'm actually rather impressed with myself that I remember them all when I used to secretly snicker, or maybe even feel sorry for other parents who did. But no no, no need for pity, Iggle Piggle rocks because he makes my daughter happy and anything that makes her happy (as any parent would agree) rocks!

We've even bought her the plush toy, ordered it from the UK and then they said they were out and I was crushed - no really I was - but then I found it on e-bay (my first purchase and foray onto e-bay btw) for a reasonable $60. Ouch. Never in my right mind might I ever have considered buying blue plush stuffed material for so much before but then again, I'm no longer in my right mind - I'm a parent. And life now happily includes Iggle Piggle...