Saturday, February 21, 2009

the big w

After ball hockey this morning, Little Dude's coach offered him a Timbit from TH's very familiar SnackPack box. I wasn't surprised to hear daddy decline and was impressed to hear him counter Little Dude's many "I want some" pleas with a question instead of a negative. "Want some what?"

"I want some meatballs," Little Dude demanded. We all laughed. Little Dude giggled, nervously. And, that was the end of that.

No, Little Dude has never eaten Timbits. Yes, we've frequented TH, as well as Mickie D's, way too many times to keep count. So don't be fooled by my last blog ... we do stray from the homemade organic meal ideal, often.

One day soon, Little Dude will have his first Timbit. We might even hear him beg for a Happy Meal once he figures out that it always comes with a toy. For now, I'm content with keeping him guessing about what's really in a TH SnackPack box and hearing him unwittingly exclaim, "Look up there, mommy. A big W," when we drive by the proverbial golden arches in the sky. Although, I do correct him and say, "You mean, a big M".

Monday, February 16, 2009

organic food fight

Every parent wants the best for their babies. Based on my own research from books, magazines, pamphlets and the web, I breastfed my first-born until he was one, strapped him into a carseat with the best safety rating and put him in unbleached cloth diapers. At 4-weeks-old, he was the youngest participant in the Music and Movement sessions at the Early Years Centre. I signed up for Infant Massage class and made a ritual of massaging him after bath. Well before he was ready to eat solids, I had already made up my mind to make homemade baby food and was scouting grocery stores for organic or locally-grown produce.

I was determined to give my baby the best start possible. So I was a little put off to have been the subject of criticism, at a Make Your Own Baby Food class, when I admitted that I intended to feed my baby organic food. I think I said something like, "I'm planning on buying organic..." One mom cut me off immediately, "Not all veggies are available organic. I want to expose my baby to everything!" What? To pesticides, too, I thought. The instructor then added, "Oh, you don't need to buy organic. Stuff doesn't go through breastmilk anyway." I don't intend to feed organic apples to my babe through my breast. I plan to use a spoon and put it in his mouth, directly.

The truth is that certain produce have such low levels of pesticides that you don't have to buy it organic if it isn't available. But I said nothing. I felt weary and just couldn't be bothered. For those reading this and want to know more, a wallet-size guide is available at

I don't want to appear smug. I've certainly made many wrong choices as a mom. When my own mother questioned whether it was safe to use plastic bottles and sippy cups, I didn't even give it a thought. Now, the BPA issue is all too real. Also, these days, convenience has become a major factor in my choices. I stopped using cloth diapers when I was pregnant with my 2nd child and we were in the midst of selling our bungalow. I simply found it difficult to hide the smell or presence of dirty cloth diapers from potential buyers and, later, managing it with 2 babies in a two-storey house seemed overwhelming.

Today, you can find organic goods everywhere. I shop regulary at Zehrs, Sobeys, and even Shoppers Drug Mart. "Organic" living has become popular and that's great! I truly believe every parent wants the best for their babies. Make goods easily accessible and affordable, and the debate about 'what is best' becomes a little less muddy, and we begin to embrace previously marginal or 'alternative' choices. Today, my greatest dilemma is how to get my babies back into cloth diapers.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

a poem about love

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, here is a poem dedicated to the Good Man and I on our wedding day. Listening to Nina read it was probably one of the most memorable moments of the evening. Thank you for your gift of love, Nina. We love you back.


Everyone says red
Is the colour of romance,
With hearts and valentines
But what about the deep orange hues
Of a candle flame?
Or the golden yellow glow
Our fondest memories possess?
What if it's really emerald shades
Of early mornings spent together in silence?
Or, could it be blue like the sky
That stretches forth to infinity
in nature's imitation of our bond?
Dare I say it might be
The indigo skies of long nights
Spent warm in each others' arms
But maybe it's the iridescent violet shine
Of my heart, like swallows' wings
Strong, and never waning in its course to you

So love, let us abandon simply red
And colour our lives
With a rainbow of love

Friday, February 13, 2009

puke & projectile poop

... sums up this Friday the 13th evening for our household. I don't think I need to go on.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

sleep, my babies, sleep

My babes are both asleep. For the night? Only time will tell. But not likely for my dear Little Dude. We have a library of self-help books, now gathering dust. We haven't given up. We just know that, for Little Dude, it's ... well ... complicated. We're not sure what we did right with his younger brother who seems to look forward to our night time routine of bath and books before being placed in his crib still awake. Often, he goes down without another peep even when not feeling his best.

Earlier, about a half an hour after being put in his bed, Little Dude found the Good Man and I in the kitchen. We were surprised to see him standing there smiling at us. It's been months since he's come out of his room after bedtime. He giggled and then announced, "I had a good sleep!" Oh, my baby. If only it were true.

Monday, February 9, 2009

bump, bump, bump, bump

At almost 3-years-old, Little Dude is an expert stairclimber. It's been a long time since I've had to monitor his ascents/descents. But this evening, my heart almost stopped when I heard multiple thuds followed by a loud crunch. I found Little Dude face-down at the bottom of the basement stairs, wailing. I was almost afraid to turn him over. At the last crisis, he suffered 6 stitches above his right eye. This time around we were lucky. The carpeting on the stairs cushioned his fall and Little Dude escaped with just a scratch and big goose-egg on his forehead.

After letting me apply 'Boo Boo Fish' ... a fish-shaped icepack ... to his forehead for a few minutes, Little Dude announced, "I need a BandAid." The Good Man put the bandage on his forehead. Then he wriggled out of my arms and proceeded to climb back up the stairs. Curious, we asked, "Where are you going?"

"I want to go down by myself," Little Dude replied. He climbed 10 steps all the way up to the landing and began to walk back down the stairs. When asked how he fell, he pointed to the landing. "I standing there. Then I fall bump, bump, bump, bump down the stairs," making bouncing motions with his pointed finger.

His account of the fall was priceless but more than that ... I applaude him for his persistance in making his way down the stairs in his own terms shortly after such a horrible fall.

Sunday, February 8, 2009


The conversation went like this:

The Good Man: We're going to Chapters.
Little Dude: We're going to tractors?!
The Good Man: No, we're going to Chapters!
Little Dude: We're going to tractors!
The Good Man: No, CHAPTERS!
Little Dude: Yes, TRACTORS!!

We pile the boys in the van. We're about to drive into the Chapters parking lot when Little Dude exclaims, "Here we are. At tractors!!!" The Good Man and I laugh hysterically. There, sitting across from the Chapters parking lot, are two big green tractors!

The Good Man: Yes, Little Dude. You're right. We're at the tractors.
Little Dude: We're at the tractors!

Saturday, February 7, 2009


Maybe it’s because they happen so infrequently that Little Dude’s tantrums throw me for a loop each time. To him I appear calm and collected but inside I’m crying with him.

The screaming is finally over. He’s sitting on my lap clutching me, sobbing uncontrollably. I ignore the dampness accummulating on my shirt, hold him tight and tell him “Everything’s okay. You’re just tired/hungry/frustrated, baby. Mommy’s here.”

These episodes are quick and explainable. A missed snack, late naptime or one too many no’s usually sets it off. I’m thankful that Little Dude is such an easy going toddler and I can still count the number of meltdowns he’s had in one hand. Still, I think I can live without another heart-wrenching tantrum.

Friday, February 6, 2009

my ramblings begin

"It does not matter how slow you go so long as you do not stop."
— Wisdom of Confucius
This Confucius saying is a sample entry for I think it's a great quote and has prompted me to reflect on my life ... slow it is NOT. It was once, yes. The Good Man took this photo of me enjoying the serenity of the lake in Tobermory. We had just started dating then. Now, almost 5 years later, we are married and have 2 active little boys. Life seems to be whirring by at full-speed with me trying not to trip as I muddle through motherhood. At times, I long for my quiet and less hectic single days but know that I would miss the chaos of my life the minute I step out of what is now my reality: a wife and mother of two.