The Home Coming

For those nearest and dearest to me, you know that last week I pulled up my socks and headed for the airport. I decided to give my mother a heart attack and just show up at her door, direct from Paris. I'm pretty sure that if I had waited any longer, I wouldn't have come at all. If you read my post about travelling alone with a baby, you would know why.

The day started out as any other. Suitcases ready? Check. Passport and travel documents? Check. Baby stuff ready? Check. Period after 18 months of having none? Check. Stroller confiscated at the Paris airport? Check.

The first flight wasn't all that bad. Charlotte crashed pretty early into it, and the flight attendant played with her because there weren't too many people on board. The flight from Amsterdam to Vancouver was the one I was really dreading, because it was 10 hours long. And I was right. It started by arriving on the plane and being shown to my seat with a flash light because there was a problem with the electricity. Then the captain came on saying "Hello, this is Captain Menace. We are experiencing electrical difficulties, which we hope to resolve very soonn. Now will Mr What's his face from Iran please report yourselves immediately to the ground crew. Immediately make yourself known Mr What's his face from Iran."

Lovely. Not only was the electricity not working, but there appeared to be a terrorist on board, as well as a captain named Menace. Very reassuring for someone who hates to fly. Anyways, we took off, and I spent almost 10 hours stuck at the window seat with a screaming baby who peed all over every dry outfit I had for her. Quite honestly, by the time I got to Vancouver, I swore that I would never ever ever do this alone again. So if Julien wants me home, he can come and get me!!!

Anyway, I completely surprised my mother, who had no idea whatsoever that I was coming. And once I was home, I felt utter relief. And then I cried myself to sleep.

I've been home for 2 weeks now and am starting to get over the trauma of that flight. Hopefully things will alright for the flight home, but for now I have a solid month ahead of me to enjoy. And truth be told, now that I'm here I am so glad I did it. Charlotte is thriving and crawling all over the place and pulling herself up on the furniture. She meows at the cat and flirts with everyone she meets here. And all is good.

The Game

I love a good competition. The problem is that sometimes, a little competition can go too far.Take Farmville for instance. I started playing this little game on facebook in November. At first, it was just so cute and fun. I planted crops and harvested them, and all was happy until one of my friends decided that he was going to play too. Only his strategy was better than mine, and he started to level up faster than me. Never one to be outdone, I had to change my strategy (well, more like HAVE a strategy) and I became a planting, harvesting, and plowing machine. Then another friend decided that HE was going to play, and overtook both of us because he apparently has hours to spend in front of the computer.Needless to say, the farming was intense. We were plowing, seeding, and harvesting everyday, sometimes a few times a day. My farm was very well kempt. All of my animals were brushed everyday. The trees were harvested. The eggs were collected. The cows were milked. I built fences, buildings, and continued to plow. I was a very busy beaver.

That is until one night when Julien kind of burst my little happy farming bubble with a simple question, "How come your farm is so neat when the house is such a mess?".

Ouch.

Begrudgingly, I took a look around me. Dishes piled on the counter, laundry to fold on the couch, and a glance in the mirror at my unbrushed hair suddenly made me feel ashamed of myself, like being caught with your hand in the cookie jar. I decided to count how much time this game was taking me, and was appalled at the results. Here I was complaining that I never have time to do anything, but yet I was spending about 3 hours a day on that game. Granted, it was not in one sitting, but that is alot of time for a dumb little computer game.Needless to say, I have decided to leave the virtual life for reality. My house is getting cleaner by the hour, while my animals are left needing to be brushed and my crops withering and wasting away. It's amazing that all of a sudden I feel like I have free time, even though I have the same amount as before. I guess it's just a question of priorities. You'd think that after almost 30 years on this earth I would have learned that by now, but apparently I forgot somewhere along the line.

What Ever Happened to Little Miss Independant?

If you had asked me to describe myself a year ago, I guess I would have said that I'm a go-getter. A self starter. A take charge kind of girl. If you told me something couldn't be done, I would attempt it just to prove you wrong. I take the bull by the horns. I tackle problems logically and head on. I love a challenge. I laugh in the face of danger. Well, ok, maybe not that last one. But you get the picture. I'm an independant woman. Or at least I was.

I was planning a trip home for myself and my little girl, seeing as how I am off work for good in France. I thought about how wonderful it would be to see my family before my baby grows up and goes to university (yes, total exaggeration, I know) and how awesome it would be to actually see my mum and best buddy in person, because I really miss them. So I started looking for flights to get me there. At first, it was all good. I found a few flights that looked decent, and started to book them.

Then I got hit with a thought: how in the world am I going to get the suitcases with the baby and stroller? Checking them is no problem; Julien could help me with that. But what about on the other side? Are there people who can do that for you? How to I pick up a 50 pound suitcase and not leave my daughter or belongings unattended? How in the world do I push a stroller and the suitcase trolley through customs?

And then another nagging thought: how am I going to keep my squirming, curious, and cranky-when-sleep-deprived baby on my lap for a 15 hour flight? I can't keep her still for 5 minutes, much less 15 hours. How do I go to the bathroom? What do I do when my arms start cramping from holding her but there's turbulance and I'm not allowed to put her down? Where will she sleep, seeing as how she's too tall for the baby basinettes?

With all these questions, my trip has been postponed until I can figure out a solution to each and every problem. If someone were with me, they wouldn't even be an issue. But alone? I think it's something that's just too big for me, no matter how badly I want to go home. I've looked at it from all angles, and every time the same feeling comes back: sheer and utter fear. This is just something that I can't do myself. So much for being independant. And so much ffor Hakuna Matata.

If any of you bloggers out there have travelled by yourself internationally with a baby, please let me know how you did it. Or even if you have any advice about the logistics of it all, like the suitcases or bathroom issues, please let me know!
PS I did call the airline I had wanted to travel with and they were most unhelpful. They told me that there was no way the flight staff could hold my baby while I pee, and that the ground crew would not help me with suitcases, especially because there are simply not enough staff to do it.

New Year: A Time for Resolution?

Happy New Year! I was trying to come up with what I could possibly use as a New Year's Resolution, and pretty much drew blanks. I could join the "This year, I will quit smoking" group, but then I would have to start smoking in order to stop. I could go with the "lose 20 pounds" group, but I think I've joined that group every year and dropped out around January 6th,when the French pastry "galette des Rois" is celebrated. I could choose "I will do better at my job", but since I'm jobless that could be kind of difficult.

This year is new to us. Not in the sense that it's a new year, but in the sense that it is a complete unknown for us. There's no plan, no direction. We are both jobless and don't know if Julien will find a job to tide us over until we move back to Canada. Our appartment is up for sale, but we don't know when it will sell. We're waiting for Julien's visa to come through, but again, we don't know when it will come. Our entire life is unknown right now. So this year, my resolution is to join the "go with the flow" group. This is a big challenge for me, because I like having a safe net; I like being in control of my life. Because everything is so out of control right now, I have no choice but to trust that God knows what's best. Clichéd, definately. But so true. So here's to the Go with the Flow resolution, complete with song and dance.

Hakuna Matata!

What a wonderful phrase

Hakuna Matata!

Ain't no passing craze

It means no worries for the rest of your days

It's our problem-free philosophy

Hakuna Matata!

Just When You Think You Can't Take Anymore...

Just when you think you can't take anymore, Grace steps in to help you out.

As I've mentioned before, my baby has been the most horrible sleeper from the day she was born. Despite many many many different methods, up until now I've been unable to help her sleep. That is, until 2 weeks ago.
You may have read my post here where I was pretty much at the end of my rope. I was so tired, cranky, and unable to function that I just wasn't enjoying being a stay at home mother. I was at the point where I wanted to leave her on someone's doorstep with a letter asking to get her back when she slept more than 2 hours a night. And then something happened.
That day that I let her cry, Charlotte took a nap. It lasted for 2 hours. She woke up happy and played for a few hours. Then she took nap another that same afternoon. For me, this was the most incredible thing ever. Then I started to get nervous, because I was sure she would be up all night. Julien put her to bed, and she snuggled right in and went to sleep. No fuss. No muss. Just straight to sleep she went. She woke up a few times in the night, but fell asleep as I changed and nursed her.
This has been going on now for the last 2 weeks. 2 naps a day. And the last 3 nights, she has slept from 8:30pm until 6:30am with one little 15 minute nursing break in between. I am a person again, not at all like the zombie I was 2 weeks ago. And Charlotte is sleeping, and has become a bubbly, happy baby.
I don't know what I did to get her to sleep. Was it just the combination of everything that made it work? Did she just decide to flip the sleep switch? All I know is that it doesn't really matter. For me, Grace stepped in and lent a hand.

Requiem

A hero is described as "a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities". So I must say that hands down, my Dad is my hero. His ability to make people feed at ease, his honesty, and integrity are admirable. The husband that he was, the father that he was, admirable. I watched him as he courageously battled cancer, and he fought with everything in him to the end. Courageous. He was the person always willing to help when nobody else would. He always put others first.
Dad, it's been 2 years today that you let go of our hands to take Jesus'. It's crazy how fast time has gone, and how much has happened since then. I really miss your advice; I'm glad now that you repeated yourself as many times as you did, because now it's easy to remember. I miss your big bear hugs. It sucks knowing that every time I go home you're not there. I'm thankful for the time I had with you. It hurts seeing families that are complete, because ours is just so empty without you. I'm sad that Charlotte will never know you, because you would have been the best grandpa. I'm happy that she shares your birthday; I know you would have been puffed with pride and would have told everyone you met. Now that I have her, I understand so much more the sacrifices that you made for me. I miss you so much words couldn't begin to describe it, so I won't even try. Thank you for the example of integrity, honesty, and hard worker that you were. Thank you for teaching me to be responsible. Thank you for being you. I love you. You are my hero.

Mountains High by us Written by Martin Smith 2003

Sorrow came to visit us today

Was the longest day, was the loneliest day

Sorrow came to steal our hope away

Only tears can tell Of this holy hour

This mountain's high, too high for us

Sorrow came quicker than a fire

Was the longest day, was the loneliest day

I feel your hand, the warmth, your sweetest smile

But you slipped away, through the great divide

This mountains high, too high for us

Your ways are high, too high for us

Sleep, the Unattainable dream II

Funny things happen when you are sleep deprived. First of all, you don't know whether you are awake or sleeping. Your memory plays tricks on you. You fall asleep in the shower or on the toilet. You find your keys in the fridge and the milk carton beside your shoes. You stay in your pj's all day long in the hopes that at some point you can go to bed and sleep until next week. You're unable to make the easiest of decisions, like choosing between brussel sprouts and chocolate. A person asks you, "do you want fries with that?", and you burst into tears because of yet another reminder of how you don't have the energy to cook. again. You surf the internet to find harmless crimes to commit in the hopes of getting some jail time, just to get a bit of shut eye and catch up on some reading and tv watching.

Yes, I have hit rock bottom. This whole no sleep phenomenon has gone on way too long. My baby is up about 7 times in the night, despite starting solids. She refuses soothers, thumbs, and our pinkie fingers now. Toys, books and eating are only mild distractions. She resists sleep like the plague, and not only at night. She will go all day long without a nap, fussing the whole time, and then finally crash and burn at around 6pm after being up 12 hours straight. This will last 45 minutes. Nothing calms her down except nursing, which is becoming extremely painful. The paediatrician just shrugs it off as normal baby stuff. People say, "them's the breaks!". Parents look at us as if we're doing something horribly wrong, but they've been blessed to have a baby that actually sleeps through the night since it was 1 week old, and this, I'm sorry to say, through no doing of their own.

Because of the stress of everything that is going on in our lives right now, I just can't take it anymore. So today, I resorted to something that until now I've been unable to do. I put my cranky cranky baby in her crib and left her screaming there. I hate hearing it, but I really don't know what else to do. I just went to check on her, and to my surprise, she's fast asleep. It's been an hour now, and she's still sleeping. She's sideways in her bed, on her tummy and has a blanket up to her face, but she's sleeping.

If any of you out there have any encouragement, please leave it. I really truly have tried almost everything under the sun, but maybe there's something I'm missing.

Thanks!
Becky

The Name Game

First of all, let me start by saying: I have officially given my notice at work!! This means that Julien and I are both unemployed. Risky move? Perhaps. But we truly believe that we're supposed to move back to Canada, and I just couldn't leave Charlotte at a babysitter's all day to earn mere pennies at the end of the month. Hopefully we'll get Julien's visa soon, but we know it's in the works. Julien is still looking for a temporary job, so hopefully something will come up soon.

Today's story: if you ever plan on sending me a package while I'm still here, please be sure to put Rebecca and not Becky. Here's why:

I went to the post office box and found a little slip "while you were away, Becky received a package! please go in person to your nearest post outlet for pick up."
Sweet! A package! For me! So I went to the post office, handed in my slip and a piece of ID, and waited for the postman to return. He did return, but without a package.

Post man: "I'm sorry," he said, "but there is no package for Rebecca".

Me: "Um, ok,then why did you put the slip in my box, saying there was a package for Becky"?

Post man: "I can't give you that package, because it's for Becky".

Me: "But I am Becky!"

Post man, looking at me like I'm the dumbest blonde on earth: "No, you're not. You're Rebecca. For all I know, Becky is your brother."

Wow. First, my poor brother; he'd never live that name down! Second, that's the first time in my life that someone has told me that I'm not me. Where at home I could cash cheques, receive packages, and even introduce myself as Becky for just about everything, here, I don't even exist.

To make a long story short, I finished by getting my package 3 days later after going in every single day to ask. I've learned that here it all depends on who you get at the counter, (this happened with my first visa; it took 7 different visits to finally find someone who would accept my birth certificate) and my persistance finally paid off! The worst of it all is that if someone (anyone, even if the cat had answered the door) had been home when the post man arrived the first time, none of the running around would have happened!

Anyway, all is well that ends well and I'm still me, albeit a little older and a little wiser.

6 Months

Here's a little look at the last 6 months...

Here she's a day old...A month...

2 Months...

3 Months...

4 Months...

5 months...

And 6!!!

A day in the Life

I’m sitting here trying to think of something blog worthy from the last week, and despite our lives being turned upside down right now, I can’t think of how I could turn it into an interesting enough read.

I could tell you of how Charlotte won the “Crankiest Baby on the Planet” award, of how Julien won the “Remaining Calm Under Pressure” award while simultaneously receiving his Pink Slip from work, or how I won the “Hairiest legs” award, complete with an autographed picture of Big Foot, but that might be depressing.

I could tell you of how last week Julien and I bawled our heads off at the rather startling news that I was accepted as sponsor for him, and that he finally meets the minimum requirements for his visa. (It was startling because we have already had a visa refusal, and they had told us it would take 6-12 months to get an answer of Yes or No, and it only took 2 weeks!), but that might make you cry.

I could tell you of how cute it was when Charlotte learned some new syllables (gaga, dada, papa, baba, mama, yaya) and how annoying it was by the end of the day to hear her constant babble, especially now that she’s learned the volume button and has decided to use maximum decibels all the time. Or about how I borrowed my sister in law’s super high tech car, only to have the engine light go on after driving it for 15 minutes. Or about my struggle to do up the last button on my pants. Or about the chocolate muffins that I made that ended up being about 2cm high and tasted like bricks. But that would be complaining.

I could tell you of how weird it was being with my sister and brother in law as they cared for their newborn, because it was like watching a video of Julien and me only 6 short months ago. Or I could tell you how proud I felt as I held my daughter and my little nephew. And about how Charlotte is on all fours and raring to go and is eating carrots and applesauce from a spoon. Or about how she’s graduated to the next size of Pampers because her mum is sick of giving impromptu baths because of leakage. But that would be bragging.

So because of those reasons, I think I’ll just leave out all the details. I’ll try to come up with something more interesting next time. And more articulate. Until then, I guess buttons will keep on popping, Charlotte will keep on talking, and Julien will keep on being the rock that he is!

A Day Worth Remembering

Watching the birth of my little nephew (on the video cam, not live) brought back alot of memories. I bawled my eyes out when I imagined how Aurelie was feeling at the moment he was placed on her tummy, because I know that feeling. The feeling of relief. Of sheer joy. Of being worried that the little one is breathing. Of numbness. Of everything being surreal. Of utter fatigue. But before we get to that part, I need to retrace. Let's go back to Wednesday the 27th of May.
It was Wednesday morning. I had an appointment at the hospital to measure the amniotic fluid and check if I was dialating any more, because my due date had come and gone. While I had been 75% effaced and dialated at 2cm for the last 3 months (yes, 3. I went into early labour at 26 weeks and after a hospitalization they managed to stop everything. So well in fact that I was now 2 weeks overdue!!) there was still no baby on the horizon, and I was sick of being pregnant, of braxton hicks, and dragging my leg behind me because of the sciatic nerve being pinched. My belly measured 104 cm around, and I was getting nervous. Anyway, nothing had changed, so I was scheduled to be induced the next day. The midwife wanted me to try the old castor oil remedy first though to avoid unnatural contractions, so when I got home I took the little concoction of apricot nectar, sparking water, and castor oil.
About 4 hours later, there was a giant tummy rumble, and I had the scoots. Bad. I had to run to the bathroom clenching my bum and praying that I would make it. I did make it. So as my system quickly emptied itself with the horrible cramps, I got another type of cramp. A contraction. Then another. Then another. Now this was about 8pm, and so I tried to wait it out. I took a bath to try and soothe the contractions, but couldn't stay in very long because the scoots were still scooting amid the contractions. While I was in pain, I do remember thinking "well, at least I won't poop on the delivery table!". Finally after about 2 hours of the pain, my mum said that we had better go to the maternity.
We arrived at the hospital, checked (effaced, 4cm!!, contraction every minute at 100%) and I was immediately put into the delivery room. This is where I would like to take a minute to say how mislead I felt. All of the tv shows and movies make it seem like, oh, a few painful contractions , and then you push about 3 times and pop! A beautiful baby. And it all happens in about 10 minutes time, about 3 minutes if it's a sitcom, and about a week afterward you are bikini ready and feeling fabulous. Ok so anyway, they put in the epidural at around midnight, and then I was feeling a whole lot of good. I was relaxed, mama cool, and I even slept. The problem is that the epidural slowed all of the contractions. So we were left alone in the room, with a nurse checking every hour. At about 2am my water broke, and we thought, Yes! This is it! But nope. Still nothing. Julien decided to get some sleep on the floor while I slept in the bed, and when he woke up, it was about 7am and the epidural was not working anymore. At all. So my contractions came back in full force to make up for the lost time. Julien had the nerve to start whining that his arm was hurting from sleeping on the floor, and at that moment I think I could have smacked him.
At around 9am, I was at 10. Ready to start pushing. I called the midwife and told her I needed to push. And that I needed something for the pain. The problem was that there was a shift change, and so we had to wait. I said " I can't wait anymore!! I need another epidural!! I need to push!! But nope, I wasn't allowed. Finally at about 10:30 the team was there. They gave me a another shot of the epidural, because I was in a lot of pain. Then the fun began. I started pushing. And pushing. And pushing. After about 30 minutes the midwife had me change positions. Then more pushing. Then more. Another change in position. Then another. Then they halted everything and said they needed the specialist, because not only was the baby stuck, but her heart rate was getting slower and slower, and they said she was in distress and that it was too late for a c-section. 2 specialists came. I thought, uh oh! That's not good. They evaluated the situation and found out that the baby was face up and couldn't slide out properly. Then the forceps came out. They pulled. I pushed. The midwife and Julien were pushing on the top of my belly, trying to force the baby down. At one point I had to push and use my arms to push my tummy along with Julien and the midwife. Finally they managed to dislodge her head, but then her shoulder was stuck. The episiotomy was getting bigger and bigger.
Then, finally after 1h30 of pushing, Charlotte saw the light for the first time. The specialist told me that she was face up with her eyes open when she was born, and we joke around now that she hasn't closed them since. And that's when the feeling of relief came. And joy. And worry. And being empty. And being in a dream. It's funny; at the time I said I would never go through that again. That I would never have enough strength to live the difficult pregnancy all over again. That I could never endure pain, emotional or physical, like that again. That I would never walk like I'd ridden a horse for a month again. Looking back now though, I've forgotten the pain. I've forgotten the worry. I've forgotten how rotten I felt being pregnant. I'm at the point where I think that maybe, just maybe, in the distant future, and if it's God's will, I could do it again. It's funny how that works. Anyways enough reflecting for today. My little girl is taking her nap (seriously, belly sleeping has saved our sanity!) and I need to work on flattening my abs (ok so maybe the flabby belly makes me rethink the whole having another baby thing, oh the vanity!!)

The proud aunt

Last night at 11:18, I became an aunt for the first time! My sister in law had a little boy (her due date was the 17th of December, but he decided to come early). It's a good thing he did come a little early, because he weighed in at 2.915kg and is 48cm lon, and if you knew my sister in law, she's one of the tiniest people I know! He's beautiful and healthy, and will stay for just a little while in the incubator. Congratulations to the new parents, and welcome little Robin Jean!!!!!

Culture Shock

Today I have 10 minutes to myself because my little darling is napping. Yes, napping! I don't know how it happened; I don't know if it's because she's a little older now, or because of the soft blanket I put down in her crib, or that God knew that I was really at the end of my rope and took pity on me, but she is sleeping. So today I have a request for all of you North Americans out there: how long is it "socially acceptable" to nurse your baby?

I ask because I am starting to get a lot of slack for nursing Charlotte from outsiders and from doctors here. They say I nurse her much too often ( I don't count, I just do it when she wants to, but all things considered it's usually every 3-5 hours). They ask all the time how long I will keep going, as I've already passed the acceptable 3 month mark. They say that I need to start weaning her. That 6 months is the absolute maximum; after that it's just not normal. She is 5 1/2 months old, about 28 inches long, and weighs 15 pounds 6 ounces.

While I'm not someone who can easily be pushed around or influenced, this is something that is really starting to get to me. Maybe it's because it's putting my shaky parenting skills into question. Or because every time I nurse my daughter I get this look of disapproval from people. I'm sure that "normal" here is different than "normal" there, but I just don't know what "normal" is! In any case please please please let me know if I'm off my rocker, or if normal really is longer than 6 months...I'm not ready to give up nursing her!

The Update on Sleep

Thank you to all of you who gave me advice about how to get my little bug to sleep. Since she was sick for about 2 weeks I didn't want to try anything new,but now that she's feeling alot better Julien and I have been experimenting. The last 2 weeks have been trial and error, and we've found something that actually kind of works. First of all, I stopped swaddling her and just put her in her little baby sleeping bag. She rolls on to her tummy and actually sleeps. We decided to get the angel care monitor to help calm our fears about the tummy sleeping, and it's been really great. We still have major issues for daytime naps (she will only sleep in someone's arms or next to someone) but at least now we get a little sleep at night. She goes down around 9, wakes up at 12am, then 3, and then around 7. She wants to nurse every time, as the longest she can ever go is about 4 hours before we need earplugs for her squeaks and squeals, and since she's not the biggest baby on the block and she only nurses for about 5 minutes I let her.

Anyways I have to go; those squeals are getting pretty ear piercing right about now.

I'll write soon,

Becky

Walks Are a Wonderful Thing (when not in France)

Fall is my favourite time for a walk. The crisp, cool air, the warm reds, burnt oranges, purples and greens from the leaves changing colours are just so refreshing. Today we went for a walk as a family +1 because I was babysitting our 3 year old neighbour. The 4 of us thoroughly enjoyed the sunshine, cool weather and the crunch of leaves beneath our feet. We were saying how much we’d miss the view from our apartment, how much we’d miss the road going down to the port. We were running and playing with the little neighbour through the park. We were saying how cute Charlotte was with her little mittens and toque. And then it happened.

For those of you who know me, you would know that tripping and falling is pretty much routine for me. My theory on this is that my feet are too small for my body, causing me to misplace my steps and lurch forward. There’s just not enough leverage! Julien’s theory, however, is that I just don’t look where I’m going, which is probably true too (don’t tell him that!). But today, my slipping and falling was not due to either of those.

If you’ve ever heard the rumour that France is horrible for doggie do, I can confirm that it’s true. Where there is grass, there are “land mines”. Where there are sidewalks, there are landmines. Where there are “land mines”, there are accidents and dirty shoes. Today was no exception. As I was pushing the stroller on the sidewalk amidst the leaves and acorns, I slipped in the biggest pile of crap ever. Not only did I slip, but it was the kind where you slide forward with your body backward, desperately trying to keep your balance so as not to fall flat on your behind. And then our little neighbour was struck. Only he fell in a different pile. Land mines were exploding everywhere! Julien, who has a horrible time with any type of ca ca, including diapers, started to laugh and gag at the same time. I, on the other hand, realized that I had thrown out my already sore back. What had started out as a lovely fall walk had turned into a war movie, complete with explosions, sickness, and a soldier down.

As I walked begrudgingly back home, dragging my feet all the way so as to attempt to clean them, I thought of the chiropractor I would have to visit, and that old toothbrush that would be useful with a hose. So much for a lovely fall walk!

5 Months

It's been 407 days since I discovered I was pregnant. It's been 244 days since I went into early labour and was hospitalized. It's been 154 days, 14 hours, 59 minutes and 10 seconds since labour began again, and 153 days, 22 hours, 56 minutes and 23 seconds since the forceps and stitches. It's been 5 months living on little sleep. 5 months of crying, pooping, and nursing. 5 months of cooing, cuddling, and kisses.5 months of laughter and my heart feeling so full it could burst. 5 months since my little girl rocked my world forever. Happy birthday little squeaky!

Franada, Our Home and Native Land

*Image from: http://www.crossed-flag-pins.com



Today we gave in our application for a Canadian residence permit for Julien. We pray that this will be the end of a long, complicated process, that the Canadian government will tell me that I’m accepted to sponsor Julien, and that we can finally move back together as a family.
I don’t know how long it will take to be accepted, but if I’m accepted, then the end is near.
I was reflecting today on what I miss so much about home, and what I would miss here. I was kind of surprised to discover that a lot of the things are the same, and that home is where your heart is. I guess being an international family means having your heart always torn in two.
Anyway, here are my lists of top ten things I miss about Canada and will miss about France:

CANADA:

Hanging out with family and friends

Having wide open, green spaces

Having a car

Tim Hortons

Dressing down and being comfortable

Not worrying about committing a cultural faux pas

Being able to work in the medical field

The sea and lakes for swimming, the mountains for hiking and skiing

Watching Hockey

Stores being open at lunch, after work, and on Sundays

FRANCE:

Hanging out with family and friends

Cobblestone streets

The convenience of the transportation system (when they’re not on strike)

Raclette, Foie gras, Tartiflette, bagette, pain au chocolat, excellent cheap wine, cheese,

Dressing up and looking classy

Not worrying about being politically correct

Having 5 weeks paid holiday per year

Free University

Watching soccer

Having the tax included on all the prices, so I don’t have to calculate the real cost

Another Day, Another Worry

First of all, thank you to all of you who left advice for me. I will try it and let you know how it goes. I forgot to mention that I bring Charlotte to the chiropractor regularly because of a difficult pregnancy and delivery. After each session she sleeps about an hour. It seems to help her tummy calm down more than anything else.

Disclaimer: This next passage is not for the faint of heart!

This past week has been a little difficult for us. Charlotte had her last vaccine for a while (Thank the Lord. She is not having any more!!) and had 2 days of a very high fever and the runs, despite the Tylenol. I had called the doctor who said that it was normal, that I was just a paranoid parent and that things would get better. Then Friday night we had just gone to bed when we heard the most horrendous sound. It sounded like a spit up, but then kept going. And going. And going. As I raced to get my retching baby, Julien got the car keys. I didn’t realize that so much stuff could come out of such a little body. We raced her to Emergency, where we were told that because of the vaccine her immune system had taken a huge hit and that she had contracted gastro-enteritis. She was treated for dehydration and was put on medicine to stop the runs and vomiting. By Saturday night she was a bit better, though still running a slight fever and had the scoots.

That night we put her to bed in her little cradle beside us and she went right to sleep. Thinking all was on the mend, Julien and I went to sleep too. Then the **** hit the fan: I woke up at about 4am with some horrible rumblies in my tummy and made a mad dash for the bathroom, where I proceeded to be sick all over the floor. This continued for the rest of the night and all day the next. I even learned about a talent I never knew I had: changing very runny diapers with one hand while holding a bucket and puking with the other. Poor Julien did his best to help me with the baby, but he had also caught the bug and was out for the count. We really started to panic when I got so dehyrdrated that I couldn’t nurse Charlotte anymore, because it was Sunday and everything in France is closed on Sundays. In utter desperation Julien’s mum managed to find the only open pharmacy for miles and picked up some formula; only to realize that we didn’t have any bottled water to mix it with. Of course the pharmacy doesn’t sell it (that would be too easy), so Julien ran to the neighbour’s to borrow some. Julien’s mum was able to take over after that, so Julien and I were able to get some very much needed sleep. This story does have a good ending though: I don’t need to vacuum today because with all our crawling and dragging ourselves around on the floor, I think we picked up every dust ball and spec of dirt!

The problem we’re facing now is that Charlotte has contracted a very bad cold that has gone into her lungs. We brought her back to the doctor yesterday who confirmed that it’s turning into double pneumonia and she needed antibiotics stat and respiratory therapy to get all the stuff out of her lungs. If there is no improvement by Friday we have to bring her to the hospital. I’m not sure what will happen then; right now the goal is for the antibiotics to start working so that we won’t have to go down that road.

That’s it for now. Please keep little Charlotte in your prayers!

A Plea for Help

This is a cry out for advice to all you parents out there.
I have a little stinker for a daughter. Ever since I was pregnant with her, my little girl resists sleep. In utero she would kick for literally hours at a time. She was born face up with her eyes wide open. Her first week, she would go 12 hours without sleeping, and then have a 45 minute cat nap. The problem I’m facing now is that she is Miss Grumpy pants all day long. She has the biggest hissy fits known to man and she’s only 4 months old. She resists sleep with everything in her. Once she does (finally!) fall asleep, it’s her staying asleep that’s the problem.
Here’s some background: I nurse her on demand, (usually every 3-4 hours) and I don’t drink any caffeine at all. I also stopped taking dairy, as the paediatrician thought she may be lactose intolerant. She takes medicine for acid reflux, but it doesn’t do much for her.
She will not sleep for Julien (whenever we’ve tried this she has huge crying spells that last 2 hours) and for me she will but only in my arms or with me next to her.

Here’s what I’ve tried so far to help my little one sleep:

*White noise (it makes her scream because she gets overstimulated)
*Calming music (again, overstimulates her)
*Swaddling (this works to calm her down, so I keep doing it. Then she isn’t swatting herself in the face and wiggling all over tarnation)
*Nursing her to sleep (this also works, but she wakes up the second we put her in her bed. Then we have a crying match for about an hour)
*Finger sucking. This works wonders; the problem is that we can’t stay with a pinkie in her mouth 24/7. We have tried the pacifier many many many many times to no avail. I don’t know how to break her of this habit, any suggestions?
*Letting her cry it out. This resulted in a screaming match for 3 hours until I finally cracked and went to get her. She had wiggled her way out of the swaddle and was all over her cradle. The poor little thing was so upset that she was still sobbing as I nursed her and it took another 2 hours to get her to sleep after that.
*Putting my t shirt in her bed. This has worked a little, as she buries her face in it and then I can actually leave the room for 15 minutes. Then she wakes up.

To me it seems like she is afraid of being alone, but I could be totally off my mark. I am tired of spending 2 hours trying to get her to sleep for every nap, only to have her sleep 20 minutes.
Any suggestions you have would be most welcome, as I’m really at my wit’s end.
Thanks!

Music, Bono, and My Favourite Sound

Ever since I was a little girl, my favourite sound was Bono singing. There was just something about his voice that made me feel like I was soaring, gave me chills, and made me feel warm and fuzzy inside, especially when he held those long notes. It felt so good to be alive when his music was playing. The song With or Without You came out, and I thought I had died and gone to heaven (I was only 7 at the time!) My room was plastered with Bono posters. My music library consisted of Bono, U2 and some more Bono. When I was 17, I got to go to a U2 concert for the first time. It was a huge moment in my life. I had daydreams of Bono picking me to go onstage, that we would dance together and then get married. My dream job was to become his personal secretary. Every Christmas and birthday, I was sure to receive U2 paraphernalia from amused family and friends. I read biographies, autobiographies, and became one of the world’s most well versed people in U2 trivia. I warned Julien when we got married that my heart would always be shared with another. I would save my pennies to make sure to have enough to go to each concert, and then sleep in front of ticket master to be sure to get tickets. Even when I was on bed rest with my pregnancy I was online clicking like a madwoman to get my tickets for the show in Paris. I arranged for a babysitter 4 months in advance to be sure I could go, and would put U2 music to my pregnant belly to ensure that Charlotte would love the best band in the world.
But then something happened. One day, Bono and his music just didn’t seem all that interesting anymore. At first, I thought that maybe I was just tired, that maybe it was because I didn’t really connect with the latest album. I thought that for sure things would get better, that I would get the warm and fuzzies once the day of the concert came. The big day arrived, and somehow, I didn’t care. I didn’t even feel the desire to go. You see, another musician has stolen my heart. She makes the best music in the world. Her posters are all over my walls. I could listen to her all day, and never get tired of it. Her music gives me the warm and fuzzies. It makes me feel like life is good. And, for once, Julien and I share the same taste in music. Her name is Charlotte, our little daughter. I’ve fallen in love, and I know that it will be for the rest of my life.