This week, I became a product of my own vanity. Now I wouldn't say that I'm vain when it comes to clothing, nails, make up, or anything like l that. I'm usually pretty low key, preferring sweat pants to dress pants and big baggy shirts to body hugging ones. For some reason though, I can't stand it when my long blond hair goes dark. While I am naturally blond, it just seems that these last few years my hair is going darker, and I just can't handle it anymore. Because of a lack of babysitter and cash, and some big family events coming up, I decided that I HAD to do something all by myself. I mean, when I was younger I did it all the time. I used Kool Aid to make my hair pink. I dyed my hair black, red, blue. You'd think that would have been my first clue.
Anyway, the promise on the box: beautiful light golden blond hair. I had visions of myself tossing my beautiful long goldie locks in the wind. I saw a crown of lovely braids around my head. I saw airy blond curls, and thoughts that blonds really do have more fun.
I put Charlotte down for her nap and ran to the bathroom. I followed the directions to the letter. I put the dye on, and left it the allotted time. And rinse, and wash. And then I took a look in the mirror. Orange. Orange like Orange. Crap. I felt like Anne of Green Gables in the scene where she dyed her hair "a beautiful raven black" that was actually green. I thought maybe it just needed to be dried. Nope, it looked even worse. Plus the fact that I have a red skin tone, and then this horrible yellow-orange combo on my head made me look like one of the fraggles from fraggle rock. Or like Lady Gaga.
As the disappointment set in, so did the panic. This is going to be immortalized in pictures, I realized. With all the parties and get togethers before we leave, there I'll be, orange tinged and red faced.
My darling husband took pity on me and took the baby so I could run to the professionals. The result? 160 bucks to "fix" it, and to be honest I think it looks worse. There are now fluorescent yellow streaks nestled in a sea of orange. The worst is that now I really can't do anything about it, because my hair is too fragile. So what was done to save money and time ended up costing me alot more. And I am now convince that some things should just be left to the professionals.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
All About Charlotte
Today this post is dedicated to my little bundle of joy. I don't mean to gush, but I don't want to forget all the little things she does!
Charlotte,
You are 10 months old, and so full of life. You crawl around like everything is a race, and when you lose your balance I think that you're a split second away from calamity. You always prove me wrong and somehow end up catching yourself. You pull yourself up on everything you find, and you even stand by yourself without realizing it. Of course, the second you understand that nothing is holding you up, you lose your balance and plop down on your padded bum.
You are amazed at everything you see, and that little finger just points away. You grunt, you babble, and you make the funniest faces. I love it when you see something you like and you go "OOOOOOHHHHHHHH" with your little red lips so perfectly shaped into an O. When I give you your lunch, you shake your head no when you don't want anymore and rip off your bib, and then bat your eyelashes at me.
You play me like a cheap violin, because when it's nap time you cuddle into my neck so that I won't put you into your bed. And then when I do put you down, you look at me with this tortured look and cry MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA just so that I'll pick you back up.
You applaud your daddy when he comes to get you in the morning. You do the actions to all the songs we sing, and you are so proud when you do them. You are the most social baby I've ever met. You'll go to anybody without any hesitation at all. You have this mischevious little smile whenever we tell you NO for something.
You love to empty your toybox, and haven't yet understood how to put it all back. You light up like a light bulb when you see your daddy when he gets home from work, and giggle like a school girl when he tickles your little tummy.
When you're overtired, you go into system overdrive, where you do every little expression, sound, and action you know how to do all at once. It's comical to watch. You have a whining yell that causes your daddy and me to shudder, because it makes our eardrums bleed. You splash everyone and everything when you're in the bathtub, and it's the hardest thing in the world to keep you on your little bum when you're in the water.
You spend hours babbling away to the baby in the mirror. You find it halarious to stick your finger up my nose when you nurse (I find it much less so). You still don't have any teeth, and I am so grateful for that since you give me one hard CHOMP at the end of each feeding. You clutch your little blankie like your life depends on it and twirl it in between your fingers when you sleep. I never find you in the same place in your bed.
You try to help me dress you, so your little arm is always pushing into your sleeves before I'm ready, and you always get stuck halfway down the sleeve. You are constantly opening drawers and pinching your fingers no matter much duct tape I use to keep them closed.
You arch your back when you see the car seat or the stroller, rendering it impossible to put you in it. You have little temper tantrums when you don't like something. When we take you to the doctor for your check ups, she marvels at how tall you are and how alert you are. Then she cringes when she notices that the needle on the scale hasn't budged in the last 4 months. Because you are a skinny baby, your pants are constantly around your ankles. When I put your pretty leather baby boots on, you refuse to move and will just sit there.
You usually wake up at least twice in the night, and nothing calms you down except nursing. In 10 months, you've slept through the night about 10 times. You are a total drama queen and love it when the spotlight is on you.
And I love you with all my heart.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
I can't believe how fast time is flying by. In 1.5 months, I will be home. HOME. My home. I am so excited, yet at the same time scared out of my wits. There are so many questions running through my mind.
Will it be as good as I imagined? Will all of the hours spent pining away for my homeland have been worth it? Will Julien adapt well? Will he be like I am here, miserable and pining away for HIS home? Will we have a social life, something that was so severely lacking here? How will we carve ourselves a place in friends' lives that are so used to us being gone? How will Charlotte adapt? Will she still understand French? Will I lose my French? Will we find jobs? Will we be destitute? Where are we going to live? How long will it take to get settled?
It's amazing how when you decide to do something, opportunities seem to open up where you are. All of a sudden, our weekends are chalk full running everywhere. All of a sudden, I have visitors during the week, whereas before it was like solitary confinement. All of a sudden, we are invited everywhere and have a bit of a social life.
It's amazing how life goes. And how your perspective changes when something is on the line. Yes, I'm sad to leave. I have 2 lives, 2 cultures, 2 families, 2 languages. I think that no matter where we are, we will be torn in 2. Now it's up to us to make sure that it's not a half life.
Will it be as good as I imagined? Will all of the hours spent pining away for my homeland have been worth it? Will Julien adapt well? Will he be like I am here, miserable and pining away for HIS home? Will we have a social life, something that was so severely lacking here? How will we carve ourselves a place in friends' lives that are so used to us being gone? How will Charlotte adapt? Will she still understand French? Will I lose my French? Will we find jobs? Will we be destitute? Where are we going to live? How long will it take to get settled?
It's amazing how when you decide to do something, opportunities seem to open up where you are. All of a sudden, our weekends are chalk full running everywhere. All of a sudden, I have visitors during the week, whereas before it was like solitary confinement. All of a sudden, we are invited everywhere and have a bit of a social life.
It's amazing how life goes. And how your perspective changes when something is on the line. Yes, I'm sad to leave. I have 2 lives, 2 cultures, 2 families, 2 languages. I think that no matter where we are, we will be torn in 2. Now it's up to us to make sure that it's not a half life.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Memories
I haven't written in a while. The truth is that I've been in a funk ever since I came home from Vancouver. I realized just how hard the last year has been for me, and how utterly lonely the life of a stay at home mom is, especially when you don't have a car to get out and about or friends within a hundred mile radius.
But that's not what I want to write about today. I want to write about something positive, so here we go!
I was packing yesterday for our big move (yes, we are finally moving to Vancouver this spring!!!) and I started going through Charlotte's clothing. I couldn't believe the feelings of love and nostalgia that washed over me as I picked up the tiny little onesies and little tiny outfits and teeny weeny socks. I mean, she wore those only 9 short months ago. But it seems like a lifetime ago. And it's funny, because I never thought I would be able to look back on those first 7 months of her life with fond memories. At the time, I would grit my teeth and repeat to myself, "hang in there Becky, this too shall pass" as my daughter would scream for hours on end and refused to sleep, causing me to wonder if I was senile because of the crazy thoughts that entered my mind from sheer and utter exhaustion and worry. It's amazing how time makes you forget all of the sacrifice, the frustration, and being so sleep deprived you could fall asleep anywhere, even the loo.
I'm happy to say that my little bug has developed from a screaming baby into an awesome little toothless wonder (yep, still no teeth!) who crawls, gets into everything, is a chatterbox, makes funny faces, and actually sleeps. Granted, she doesn't sleep through the night. But that will come I'm sure. I'm so grateful for her. And I know I don't mention him much, but I'm grateful for Julien too. He's turned into an awesome husband and a super dad, doing dishes, helping with the housework, changing diapers, bathing the baby, and getting down on the floor to chase her around. I realize as I look at them how blessed I am and how I really shouldn't complain, even if the days are a little lonely.
But that's not what I want to write about today. I want to write about something positive, so here we go!
I was packing yesterday for our big move (yes, we are finally moving to Vancouver this spring!!!) and I started going through Charlotte's clothing. I couldn't believe the feelings of love and nostalgia that washed over me as I picked up the tiny little onesies and little tiny outfits and teeny weeny socks. I mean, she wore those only 9 short months ago. But it seems like a lifetime ago. And it's funny, because I never thought I would be able to look back on those first 7 months of her life with fond memories. At the time, I would grit my teeth and repeat to myself, "hang in there Becky, this too shall pass" as my daughter would scream for hours on end and refused to sleep, causing me to wonder if I was senile because of the crazy thoughts that entered my mind from sheer and utter exhaustion and worry. It's amazing how time makes you forget all of the sacrifice, the frustration, and being so sleep deprived you could fall asleep anywhere, even the loo.
I'm happy to say that my little bug has developed from a screaming baby into an awesome little toothless wonder (yep, still no teeth!) who crawls, gets into everything, is a chatterbox, makes funny faces, and actually sleeps. Granted, she doesn't sleep through the night. But that will come I'm sure. I'm so grateful for her. And I know I don't mention him much, but I'm grateful for Julien too. He's turned into an awesome husband and a super dad, doing dishes, helping with the housework, changing diapers, bathing the baby, and getting down on the floor to chase her around. I realize as I look at them how blessed I am and how I really shouldn't complain, even if the days are a little lonely.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Looking at Each Other In Wonderment
The closing ceremonies are over; the flame extinguished. When that flame went out with a haunting Neil Young singing, I think something in my heart broke a little.
We may be labled as tacky, cheesy, and completely unsophisticated by some. Ok, maybe some of us DID seem a little Happy Gilmorish at some of the events. But we were real. Proud. Full of sheer and utter elation to be such an integral part of something that was bigger than us.
But that feeling of being so proud your heart could burst is slowly dwindling. We become our quiet, respectful, polite selves once again. The flag is taken off our cars; the faces painted with our country's symbol are less and less. The tragedies, triumphs, danger, adversity, and joy will soon become nothing but a faded memory.
But that's the stuff that legends are made of.
We may be labled as tacky, cheesy, and completely unsophisticated by some. Ok, maybe some of us DID seem a little Happy Gilmorish at some of the events. But we were real. Proud. Full of sheer and utter elation to be such an integral part of something that was bigger than us.
But that feeling of being so proud your heart could burst is slowly dwindling. We become our quiet, respectful, polite selves once again. The flag is taken off our cars; the faces painted with our country's symbol are less and less. The tragedies, triumphs, danger, adversity, and joy will soon become nothing but a faded memory.
But that's the stuff that legends are made of.
Monday, February 8, 2010
The Countdown...
The countdown is on!! (drumroll please) WE'RE MOVING TO BC!!!
Befor I go on, I should probably fill you in a little about the steps it took to get here.
In October 2008, after 6 years of debating, discussion, prayer, and hoping, Julien applied to get his Canadian visa. We had been told at that time that it would take about 4-9 months to obtain. So 10 months later when we still hadn't heard anything, we followed up on it. And soon after, we received a rejection letter, stating that the skilled worker category that Julien had applied for was no longer on their list because of the economic crisis.
As you can imagine, I was heartbroken. It was so hard to understand why things were happening the way they were, especially after losing my father. It was so important for me to move back because of the task he asked of me before he passed, which was to take care of my mother. I didn't take my promise lightly, and my awesome husband knew how important it was for me to get back there.
So we then decided to take the hard route, which meant me acting as a sponsor for Julien. I signed a pact with the the government, promising to support Julien for 3 years, as he wouldn't be entitled to any benefits, such as disability or employment insurance. It was a big undertaking, but we knew it was our last hope for coming back.
We sent our huge file in October 2009, and were told that it would take 6-12 months to get an answer if I was accepted as a sponsor. At the beginning of November, I received a letter stating that my sponsorship was accepted, and that the file would be transferred to the embassy in Paris to treat the visa request. Then in January we received a letter informing us that the visa itself would take another 6-12 months. So I decided to go on my little adventure and bring Charlotte to see my family, because another year is a long time to wait seeing as how these little babies just morph into little independant people before your eyes.
About a week into my trip, Julien called me with some shocking news: His visa was ready for pickup. A million thoughts ran through my head. What? How? What do we do now? Holy crap I'm going to have to get myself organized and think about what to send internationally, while watching my little girl like a hawk because she gets into everything everywhere.
So, in total, it took only 4 months.
To be honest, I shouldn't have been surprised, because around Christmas Julien's dad had given us a verse talking about how the wise men went back to their own country "another way". At the time, he had told us that our plans wouldn't go the way we thought they would. For us, we had planned on leaving maybe in September at best, which seemed logical. When JL gave us the verse, we thought it meant we'd end up leaving later. We never dreamed that it would come now.
Julien gave his notice, and our appartment sold on the same day. Everything has fallen into place so perfectly that we can't help but acknowledge God's hand in all of this. I'm trusting now that jobs are waiting for us on the other side of the ocean. And I know that everything is in good hands.
Befor I go on, I should probably fill you in a little about the steps it took to get here.
In October 2008, after 6 years of debating, discussion, prayer, and hoping, Julien applied to get his Canadian visa. We had been told at that time that it would take about 4-9 months to obtain. So 10 months later when we still hadn't heard anything, we followed up on it. And soon after, we received a rejection letter, stating that the skilled worker category that Julien had applied for was no longer on their list because of the economic crisis.
As you can imagine, I was heartbroken. It was so hard to understand why things were happening the way they were, especially after losing my father. It was so important for me to move back because of the task he asked of me before he passed, which was to take care of my mother. I didn't take my promise lightly, and my awesome husband knew how important it was for me to get back there.
So we then decided to take the hard route, which meant me acting as a sponsor for Julien. I signed a pact with the the government, promising to support Julien for 3 years, as he wouldn't be entitled to any benefits, such as disability or employment insurance. It was a big undertaking, but we knew it was our last hope for coming back.
We sent our huge file in October 2009, and were told that it would take 6-12 months to get an answer if I was accepted as a sponsor. At the beginning of November, I received a letter stating that my sponsorship was accepted, and that the file would be transferred to the embassy in Paris to treat the visa request. Then in January we received a letter informing us that the visa itself would take another 6-12 months. So I decided to go on my little adventure and bring Charlotte to see my family, because another year is a long time to wait seeing as how these little babies just morph into little independant people before your eyes.
About a week into my trip, Julien called me with some shocking news: His visa was ready for pickup. A million thoughts ran through my head. What? How? What do we do now? Holy crap I'm going to have to get myself organized and think about what to send internationally, while watching my little girl like a hawk because she gets into everything everywhere.
So, in total, it took only 4 months.
To be honest, I shouldn't have been surprised, because around Christmas Julien's dad had given us a verse talking about how the wise men went back to their own country "another way". At the time, he had told us that our plans wouldn't go the way we thought they would. For us, we had planned on leaving maybe in September at best, which seemed logical. When JL gave us the verse, we thought it meant we'd end up leaving later. We never dreamed that it would come now.
Julien gave his notice, and our appartment sold on the same day. Everything has fallen into place so perfectly that we can't help but acknowledge God's hand in all of this. I'm trusting now that jobs are waiting for us on the other side of the ocean. And I know that everything is in good hands.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
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.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, January 4, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
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!
Monday, December 28, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
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.
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
Monday, December 14, 2009
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
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
Friday, December 4, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
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!!! 
Thursday, November 26, 2009
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!
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!
Thursday, November 19, 2009
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!!)
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!!)
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
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!!!!!
Congratulations to the new parents, and welcome little Robin Jean!!!!!
Monday, November 16, 2009
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!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
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
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