Help!

You know how when you're a freelancer and you take on a project, agree to a timeline, and then find out that the short, seemingly straight-forward task is now a huge hopeless mess that will take much longer than you thought even though your employer would still like it on time, thank you very much. No? Well, let me tell you, it sucks. My whole body aches and my wrists are on fire from spending so much time in front of the computer. And to top it all off, my MIL, BIL, and nephew are coming to visit this weekend. Oh joy! So until I dig out from under the disaster zone that is my house and freelance career, you might not hear from me for a little while. Not that I'm the most regular or verbose writer, but still. Until then, two quick items:

It seems that we have transitioned Charlie to a "big-boy bed" (read: futon on the floor). I was willing to keep Charlie in his crib until university, but HS had other ideas. So far, so good, knock wood.

Is anyone else bothered by the naming conventions in the Franklin books? There's Bear the bear, Otter the otter, Fox the fox, Beaver (Does anyone else snicker at the fact that Beaver is a girl, or is it just me?) the beaver, Snail the snail . . . and Franklin the turtle. Shouldn't his name just be Turtle?

I need a margarita and it isn't even noon yet

Why do toddlers wake up in bad moods? I guess we all have our off days, but I can usually pinpoint a reason for my foul temper (PMS, lack of sleep, lack of seratonin, hunger, caffeine-withdrawal headache, etc.). But Charlie, WTF? He was foul from the moment he hollered from his crib. HS escaped to the office as fast as he could with a "Love you! Good luck!" as he sprinted out the door. But Charlie had a good night's sleep, he ate breakfast, I soothed him with Dora, we ran around at the park . . . I don't get it. Luckily a ride in the car with some folk tunes calmed him down, and he eventually gave up and conked out. Phew! I'm gonna need some backup when he wakes up.

Long weekend stats

Days without rain: 0
Days with snow: 1
Days with hail: 1
Moose sitings: 5
Latest time I got to sleep in: 9:30 a.m. (thank you HS)
Latest time Charlie slept in: 6:30 a.m.
Amount of bacon consumed: 1lb, give or take a strip
Amount of cheese consumed, courtesy of HS's aunt and uncle from Holland: 2lbs, at least
Meals bbq'd: 3 (Including the nadir of unhealthy grilled meat: the cheese-stuffed sausage. So greasy! So chock-full of saturated and trans fats! But so, so tasty!)
Number of extremely fussy 2-month-olds successfully rocked to sleep: 1 (Actually, I held her and bounced on an exercise ball until she fell asleep. MUST get one of those if/when we have another!)
Kilometres travelled: 700
Number of times Charlie asked to go home: 1 (a new record!)
Number of times I thought that we live too far away from our families: too many to count

How to mess with your neighbours' heads

Borrow your two-month-old niece. Take a short stroll to the park and back.

Seriously, two of our neighbours pulled over as they were driving by (one with a bit of a screeeeeeeeeech!) to ask how on earth they missed my pregnancy. Too funny.

I never thought that the burbs would be like living in a small town, but when someone at the park asks if you've been away because the shades have been drawn a lot lately, whoah. I grew up in a small town, but after living in Toronto for seven years, you kind of forget that people watch. Our neighbours in Toronto didn't notice that we had a baby until he was four months old. And we shared a wall!

Still, it was kind of fun to take my niece for a test drive. HS and I were the very picture of the two-kid family as we walked to the park, baby snoozing in the stroller, toddler on his bike. It was sweet and lovely and another reason to go ahead with the June baby-making plan.

First seems to be winning.

Time management and strawberries

Ugh, I am so pressed for time these days. My brother and his family are visiting, I'm on deadline for two projects, and Charlie is dropping naps left, right, and centre. Not good.

So instead of a post about all the things on my mind lately, how about some recipes!?

Strawberries seem to be plentiful and on sale these days (why is that?), and some of them even taste berry-like. Whee! So how about a smoothie? So yummy, and an easy-peasy way to get some goodness into your fresh-fruit-and-veggie-resistant toddler.

Throw the following in your blender:

1 banana
1 scoop silken tofu
2 scoops plain yogurt (y'know, the healthy kind with live cultures)
sliced strawberries
a few ice cubes
orange juice

Voila! Breakfast!

Smoothies not your thing? How about a salad?

Throw the following into a bowl:

a bag of salad greens (baby romaine is my fav)
sliced strawberries
slivered toasted almonds
crumbled goat cheese
a decent pour of Newman's Own Balsamic Vinaigrette

Cheers!

The lesser of two evils

Q: Which is worse?

1. Taking your six-month old to the hospital for tests, tests that hurt him and cause him to scream bloody murder while your husband waits outside the examination room so you are alone in your desperate attempts to calm your wailing child and, let's face it, you are crying just as hard as he is. Tests you could not warn him about or explain so you feel terrible that he has been ambushed in this way.

2. Taking your almost 2 1/2-year old to the hospital for tests, tests that hurt him and cause him to scream bloody murder and ignore the Dora playing on the TV, the stars on the ceiling, the cheery murals on the wall, and the desperate attempts by both parents to calm him down. Tests you tried to prepare him for, but couldn't say "they are going to hurt," so instead you said the doctors had to take pictures of his tummy, we could see the fish in the waiting room, and mommy and daddy would be there the whole time, and we can have chocolate milk after it is all over, so it won't be so bad.

That was my day yesterday. The good thing is, although I feel like a raggedy, wrung-out washcloth, Charlie is fine. Fine except for a bum right kidney that appears to be getting a little bit worse. If we were to evaluate his kidneys, his left would get "exceeds expectations" and a nice, fat raise, while the right kidney would get "unsatisfactory" and an escorted trip out of the building. And while you can live your whole life on just one kidney -- as my friend DB found out after an ultrasound at the age of 32 -- the nephrologist (a kidney specialist for the uninitiated. Not the quack science of measuring heads to determine personality as I used to think it was. What is that called anyway? I really hope it sounds like nephrology or else I'm looking pretty dippy here. And I'm using the word dippy to boot) would like to ensure that the good kidney stays good and the bad kidney, well, doesn't get worse. So that means more meds. Ugh. And while I was all bright-eyed and upbeat in the nephrologist's office, now I'm all weepy and deflated.

And I should feel relieved that it isn't worse. Or life-threatening. And I am. And thankful. And I really should follow Charlie's lead here, because today he's his usual chirpy, happy self. In fact, he was fine the moment he saw the fish in the waiting room. And hey, we can walk in and walk (or skip or run) out of CHEO (Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario) with our child, and that my friends is a blessing all on its own.

Yet another transcript

Scene: In the CRV en route to Tim Hortons

Me: Charlie, what's my favourite drink?

Charlie: Hmmmmmm. Water?

Me: Yes, I do like water, but what else do I like to drink?

Charlie: WINE!


The answer I was looking for was coffee because lordy, I have an unhealthy love for my Timmy's fix, so much so that Charlie can rhyme off my coffee order on command -- XL, 4 milk, 1 sugar. At least my son does not view me as an over-caffeinated coffee addict, just a wino. But a happy wino at that.

What not to wear

If you decide to wear a floaty top -- one that is nice and fitted at the bustline, skims your post-baby stomach pouch, and drifts oh-so-flatteringly to your hips -- to Gymboree with a two-year old, be prepared for everyone to assume you are pregnant.

I'm not though. Yet.

Is it that obvious?

The Scene: Family dinner at my MIL's this past weekend.

Charlie (loudly): Mom, is that YOUR WINE?????

Me: Yes Charlie.

Charlie: Are you going to drink it?

Me: Yes Charlie, I am. (Takes sip.)

Charlie: Now you are HAPPY!!!!

Ya ya yoto! Ya ya yoto! Ya ya yoto to go!

That's what Charlie is yodelling from his crib right now (see above). It makes no sense, but he still belts it out with gusto. He should be sleeping so I can post now that we're back from dial-up land. So, to be quick, I had a lovely week away. Charlie was surprisingly good humoured the whole time and only recited our address once per day (something he does when he wants to go home). I had lots of newborn baby snuggling time with my new niece. And I got a night in Toronto on my own. Hurrah! My hair is a decent multitonal brown hue, not blonde, the split ends are gone, the bubble tea was yummy, and I had the best girls night out complete with fancy cocktails and my new, pointy-toed gold shoes. Just what I needed!