Life or something like it

As you might have guessed from my stellar lack of blogging, I have had A Lot Going On These Days. Let's just say that 2007 has been a bit of a kick to the ass, and with work deadlines and all the stuff going on, blogging has become the last thing on my to-do list. I'm thinking of calling it quits with this blogging stuff anyway, since the need to write that I felt a year ago has diminished somewhat. Maybe because I'm happier, maybe because I don't feel as alone as I once did, I'm not sure. But Charlie is napping again, so we'll see.

So what have I been up to, you might ask? Well Chez FOO has been hit with that maelstrom we like to call "life," good things, exciting things, and really, really bad things. The even keel I'd been riding has been jolted in a lot of ways, but I'm feeling pretty good, all things considered. I'll try to follow up with the details in another post (no really!), because I hear someone stirring . . .

Man this blog was getting dusty . . .

As you can tell, my New Year's resolution was not to blog more. Nope, nosiree, let's just say that 2007 is off to a, well, crap, I'm not really sure how to categorize the last 17 days. But let's go back, shall we? To simpler times. December of 2006, for example. And since I am lacking the nap time to construct a coherent narrative, I will fall back on ye olde numbered list to help me out.

1. My birthday. 35. I can no longer check the 25-34 box. I fall into the 35-44. Yuck. Most of the time I'm ok with aging, but when you're trying to get knocked up (finally made my mind up about that one), it pains me to think of the fertility cliff-drop that happens at 35. But hey, I managed to get preggers even after the nose-dive that is 30, so I have, as they say, high hopes.

2. Charlie's birthday. Was wonderful. We rented a skating arena for just the family and Charlie tried out his new single-blade skates. It was awesome. My (and HS's) entire family came, and we all took turns propelling Charlie around the ice. I am just a bit steadier than Charlie on skates, so I really relied on all the hockey players to keep him upright. After skating, we went out for hot chocolate, natch. That night my dad made pizza, Charlie opened presents, including the train table my dad made for him, and we all played Hullabaloo. Charlie was awesome the entire day. He reveled in all the attention, and despite all the excitement, there was nary a meltdown to be seen. He even went to bed late without complaint. After we kissed Charlie goodnight, HS and I basked in the glow of a perfect day and our fantastic three-year-old boy. Charlie's hangover didn't hit until the next morning. Wow, we have NEVER seen him that moody. He was all "dude, where's my love? Where's my entourage? Hello? I needed breakfast five minutes ago!" It was kind of funny in a way, to see someone so small wake up so pissy. It wouldn't have been so amusing, mind you, if I had to deal with that crazy on my own, but since HS and I had Grandma, Nana and Grandpa for back-up, we could handle it without losing our cool. Sort of.

3. Christmas. 'Twas green. My grandma had a charming saying for this type of weather: "Green Christmas, full graveyard." She wasn't the most optimistic person. But that stupid saying kept bouncing around in my head all holiday. However, winter arrived in Ottawa with a vengeance yesterday, which makes me a little less nervous for the future of our planet, but damn it is cold. Good thing we're going to Florida soon.

4. New Year's. My resolutions? 1. Try to get pregnant. (Not so much a resolution as a plan, but still.) 2. Handle my depression better. To that end I am going to an acupuncturist, taking flax seed oil, trying to exercise more (at home too, not just at the gym), and remembering to breathe deeply. Has it helped? So far I haven't fallen down a black hole of despair. We'll see.

So that about wraps up December. It was crazy busy, but it seems so calm compared to what's going on now. But that's another post.

DJing for the younger set

Woo-eeeee! The Christmas season has descended on Chez FOO with a vengeance. This past weekend we were on the road for my MIL's family party and my university roommate reunion. Today our playgroup had a festive gathering (organized by yours truly -- cookie decorating, a Starbucks traveller, and a potluck buffet), tomorrow is Charlie's preschool party, Friday is my birthday, Christmas Eve is my family get-together, Christmas Day is HS's family get-together, and Charlie's birthday is on the 27th. Whew! But I love it. I like my family. I like all the parties. I didn't really get all of the magazine articles on holiday stress until last night when I had to make the cookies for today's party. So I got four packs of Pillsbury cookie dough sheets (yes! sheets! awesome! just add cookie cutters!) and got them all done in half an hour. Sweet. Charlie is doing fairly well with all of the excitement, although he had his worst meltdown EVER after the party on Saturday. But really, I could see it coming. Let's see, no nap + cookies and candy galore + lots of cousins to play with + presents + up past bedtime = serious freakout. A no-brainer.

I even had time to whip up a little CD of Charlie's favourite tunes for our playgroup. Here's the playlist:

Yellow Submarine (The Beatles) -- I think every kid likes the Yellow Submarine. And most of the Beatles stuff for that matter.
Pata Pata (Miriam Makeba) -- An effective Oil of Olay ad and a great dancing tune!
The Rainbow (The Apples in Stereo) -- Beatles-esque. See above.
La La La La Lemon (Barenaked Ladies) -- Oh Barenaked Ladies. I used to watch you at The 'Bow when it was just Steve and Ed.
The Coffee Song (Ralph's World) -- If your kid listens to this enough, he/she will learn to spell Mommy, Daddy and coffee. Makes for a great party trick!
Pay Me My Money Down (Bruce Springsteen) -- Pete Seeger is also good for the kiddos, but I really like this version.
Everybody Came (Ambrosia Parsley) -- Who is this singer?
Bushel and a Peck (Dan Zanes) -- I must confess, I have a crush on Dan Zanes.
See You on the Moon! (Great Lake Swimmers) -- I really should download more from this band. I love this song.
Mahna Mahna (Cake) -- But I don't like Cake! I do have fond memories of this from Sesame Street though.
I've Been Everywhere (Johnny Cash) -- He actually mentions Ottawa!
My Doorbell (The White Stripes) -- Surprisingly kid-friendly!
Hockey Monkey (James Kochalka) -- Charlie's favourite. And funny.
Mushaboom (Feist) -- My brother burned me a Feist CD ages ago, but it wasn't until the Lacoste ad that I heard this song. I am so not cool.
Wonderwheel (Dan Zanes) -- Told you I had a crush.
King of Spain (Moxy Fruvous) -- I used to live on the same street as Jian Ghomeshi.
Three Little Birds (Bob Marley) -- Kids love reggae!
Waltzing Matilda (Dan Zanes & Debbie Harry) -- Ok, it's a getting a bit embarassing.
L-O-V-E (Nat King Cole) -- His voice is just awesome.
What's the World Got in Store (Wilco) -- I think every parent asks this question.
The Rainbow Connection (Sarah McLachlan) -- I'd rather have the Kermit version, but this one is nice too.
We're Going to be Friends (The White Stripes) -- A better version than the one in Curious George.
Bonne Nuit Etienne (Montag) -- I don't know who this singer? group? is either, but this song is sweetly soothing.

Losing my nerve and my mind

Charlie has decided to squeak in the terrible twos just weeks before he turns three.

Now I know there are lots of posts about crazy days with Charlie and declarations of his only-hood, but at least I used to be able to count on a nap to break up the day. Dammit, that nap was important for my mental health. And Charlie's too because by 5:00 p.m. he is a bundle of sleep-deprived irrationality who wants everything and nothing at all at the same time. I am still trying to enforce quiet time, a mere 45 minutes when he must play in his room or listen to the blessed books on tape. But somehow quiet time has devolved into twenty minutes of Charlie bellowing from his room and slamming his door repeatedly. Behaviour that begets a time-out, which begets more tears and screaming, which begets a frazzled harpy of a mother. Add in negotiating the minefield that is an almost-three-year-old temperament, and by the time HS gets home I'm exhausted. Oh, and it's winter outside. And I can't shake this cold.

So I'm trying handle Charlie the best I can. HS and I hashed out a few things last night (after I dropped a sheet of the best cookies ever on the floor and stomped out of the house). We are trying to stick to our routines as closely as possible. Because they work, and Charlie is happier when he knows what's coming. He also hates being rushed to do anything (eating, crossing the road, and heaven forbid if we wipe his butt too quickly, cause he hates that too), which makes getting to school a bit, ahem, challenging, so I'm rejigging our timing so we won't be rushed. I am clearly outlining all transitions so there are fewer freak-outs at the unexpected. And I am trying to let go of the little things that make no sense to me, but are very important to-do's on a three-year-old's agenda, such as: If Charlie must put his mittens back on for the seven steps it takes to get from the car to the house, then let him. So what if he's just going to take them off when he gets inside? It's not bad behaviour. It just doesn't make sense to anyone over the age of five.

And today was better. But the upshot of all this is: I've lost my nerve. We were all set to go with baby #2, and since we decided to hold off until our timing was better, I'm hesitating. Again.

My Friend, You are in Trouble

I just got spam with this subject line. It almost makes me want to open it.

Grade 7 All Over Again

Does this happen to you too?

Say you moved five hours away from the majority of your friends. You call, you email, you visit, you try hard to keep in touch. But then you get hit with a month of voice-shattering illness, you have to cut your last visit short, and you drop off-line for a while. But you recover, your voice comes back, and you feel much less like lopping your head off at the neck, so you call, you email, you put some feelers out for another visit.

And you get nothing.

I feel like I'm in grade seven again. You know, when being a girl sucks because there's always a bitchy ringleader who wakes up one day and chooses, much like Heidi Klum, who's in and who's out. And if you're out, you're screwed, because no one is going to talk to you. Because let's face it, if anyone dares defy the queen bitch, you can guarantee she'll be next. I'm overexaggerating of course, nobody has sent me a "You think you're so much better than everyone else!!!" email or anything (but I did get a note like that way back in the day). I'm paranoid, I know. People have lives; they are busy. It's the holiday season etc.

So do I call again? Send another email? Wait? Clean the bathroom?

What to do?

Nothing comes from nothing . . .

. . . nothing ever could, so somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good . . .

Damn I loves me some Sound of Music. It was even playing on TV in the delivery room when Charlie was born (it was the holidays after all). And you better believe I went on the Sound of Music tour when I was in Salzburg back in 1995. There were about 12 of us grimy backpackers crammed into a bright yellow van with an 18-year-old tour guide. I sat in the front and sang along to the soundtrack the whole time. It was awesome!

Anyway, I'm feeling grateful because Charlie is napping, it's Friday, I have a date with HS tomorrow night for Thai food and Casino Royale, and it has been sunny and warm the past few days.

Life is good.

Oh and Happy Blogiversary to me! This blog is one year old today!

Deep Throat

It looks like Chez FOO has been felled by another nasty virus. Good times! Charlie is on ANOTHER course of antibiotics, my voice is back but my throat is killing me, and HS is coughing up a storm.

You know, I kind of miss my throaty voice. Once I moved past the hoarse whisper to adolescent voice-cracking, I had a husky Kathleen-Turner-in-Romancing-the-Stone rasp and then a sexy, Demi-Moorish lilt. I even think that the doctor we saw at the drop-in clinic was flirting with me a little. And the pharmacist was super-duper nice when I got Charlie's script filled. It could be all in my heavily medicated head, I know. But still, an ego-boost is good for the soul, no?

The toddler whisperer

How is it that an adult and a child can be felled by the same virus, and while the child can run around and skip his nap, the adult just wants to crawl into bed for two weeks? Damn energetic youth!

Oh and I seem to have lost my voice. Almost completely. Do you know how hard it is to parent at a whisper? Not good my friends. Charlie already has that selective hearing thing mastered. Luckily my parents were in town this weekend, so they are keeping Charlie nicely distracted. But they are leaving this afternoon. I am so screwed.

Stratagem

Not to worry, I'm not going to continue with posts like "You can't cajole a toddler into having a nap," "You can't sing yourself horse to get your toddler to nap," and "You can't beg and plead with your toddler to have a nap," but believe me, I could go on.

So here we are, sleepless in Kanata. After six nap-free days, it's time to accept the facts: the nap is gone for good. Alas.

So I'm regrouping, looking for things we can do in the afternoons, and signing out all of the books on tape that I can lay my hands on at the library. I may have to visit some new locations.

I think I'm past anger and remorse. I'm on to acceptance.

And now for something completely obvious

You can't lose your sh*t, yell (and I mean really shriek) at your toddler, and still expect him to nap.

I think that despite a few glorious naps here and there, I must accept the fact that Charlie's napping days are done, done, done. Is this payback for two mornings a week of preschool? Perhaps.

So now Charlie is having some quiet time in his room with a few books on tape, and I am sitting at my computer, feeling like crap for losing my cool.

HS better not be late today. I need backup.

Turns out you can't bribe a toddler into having a nap

I know, I know. Painfully obvious, but I was just desperate enough to give it a try.

Now what?

To my MIL: I owe you one

Thank God for grandparents.

Thanks to my MIL, HS and I just had a lovely weekend in Montreal. It was only our second full weekend when we both were away from him (in addition to one night this summer in Toronto), so I didn't feel guilty at all.

In fact, I missed him.

I know, I know, it's such a cliche. But I also think it's a good thing. I don't think I'm depressed anymore. Because I can remember, in that was-that-really-me? way, when Charlie was a year old and we would meet HS for dinner after work. We would have two cars, and I would beg HS to drive my car so I could have a few minutes to myself on the ride home. I was so desperate, I couldn't even stand to have Charlie in the back seat.

And so there I was on Friday, wandering around St. Laurent street, trying on clothes without having to wrangle or bribe an-almost-three-year old, and soaking in a tub, reading a book in a gorgeous hotel room, and I was a bit lonely. (HS was working out of the Montreal office that day.) I missed Charlie and his non-stop commentary. I spotted a park and a crepe restaurant he would like. I had the whole day to myself, and what I ended up wanting was to share it with Charlie. I'm a bit sad that this change took almost two years. And I hate that I felt so awful for the whole first year of Charlie's life. I wonder what motherhood would have been like without PPD. I envy my friends with babies who just feel tired and not suicidal. What is it like to parent a baby without constant, bone-crushing anxiety? I honestly don't know.

But I meant this post to be about Montreal, so let's get back to that, shall we?

After I dumped HS at work and the car at our hotel , and despite missing Charlie, I managed to pick up a few things for myself along St. Laurent. My favourite store is Lola & Emily, where I found the most perfect coat, just not in my size. If anyone knows where I can find a Ben Sherman funnel neck coat in medium, please let me know.

Since it was rainy and cold, I checked into our hotel early for a serious soak in the amazingly clean tub (with Fresh beauty products! Awesome!) and a nap. Ahhhhhh. HS met up with me at the hotel, and we went for dinner here, which, despite the groaner of a name, was totally delicious (we both love our fondue). I really wanted the classic chocolate fondue for dessert, but HS persuaded me to try the maple. If you go, you must too. How can you go wrong with warm maple syrup and cream with fruit to dip? You can't. But make reservations though. It was packed!

Saturday dawned grey and drizzly, but we didn't care. We slept in! Sort of. I had a hideous false dawn that only happens after I imbibe half a bottle of wine. You know the ones, you feel all perky and fresh at 5:30 a.m., but you can sense a massive headache just around the corner. I tried, somewhat successfully, to sleep it off, and after a couple of extra-strength Advils, I felt a little better. After breakfast (a lovely continental buffet at the hotel), we headed over to Old Montreal for a stroll. We visited Notre Dame and lit a few candles (something I haven't done since my European backpacking trip of, gulp, 1995 when I visited a lot of churches). Then we bought some cute baby gifts here, and learned something new at Notre-Dame-de-Bonsecours Chapel, The Sailors' Church, which was my favourite part. It was founded by a French woman who believed in educating women and helping the poor, crossed the Atlantic seven times, and died when she was 80! All in the 1600s!

All that history made us hungry, so we grabbed a cab back to St. Laurent for a little smoked meat at a Montreal institution. Yes, we ate here. A carnivore's heaven. And if you go, the lineup really isn't as bad as it looks, and yes, you will have to sit with strangers, so this is not the time for intimate conversations. Get the smoked meat (medium, please, lean is too dry and full-fat is only for the hardcore), fries and a pickle. Awesome. After lunch we rolled back to the hotel for a nap (sweet, sweet, sleep) before heading out yet again to fill our bellies. This time it was L'Express, another Montreal tradition. I wish I could say I enjoyed it, but no. Our food was yummy (and authentic French bistro style), but our waiter was crap. I don't know how it is possible to feel completely ignored and insignificant as well as rushed, but there you go. Next time we'll try Meat Market, but you really need to make restaurant reservations in this town.

After another night of divine sleep (and, ahem, other activities), we decided to hightail it to Beauty's for brunch. Now there, the lineup is as bad as it looks, but once again, well worth the wait. We squeezed into a booth for fresh OJ and the Beauty's special (bagel with lox, cream cheese, tomato, and onion). And feeling quite rested, rejuvenated, and well-fed, we headed back home.

So thanks MIL. You're a marriage saver!

It's fall. Time for squash.

Oy, but the blogging is getting neglected these days. I guess that's painfully clear, no?

Once again, I am stuck in a vortex of freelance work, a not-napping almost-three-year-old, an impending visit from the MIL, and a cold that is just making its presence known. Good times!

So until I get my sh*t together, I suggest you run out and buy the November issue of Everyday Food. I was just about to cancel my subscription when this issue dropped in my mailbox with its lovely, easy, delicious and impressive recipe for butternut squash pasta sauce. I even overcame my fear of squash (and luckily the supermarket had a big, clearly labelled, squash display, because I honestly had no idea which one was the butternut). Turns out, you can peel squash with a vegetable peeler quite easily. Who knew? But seriously, this is totally yummy (although I would add a little more garlic) AND freezable. I would link to it, but the editors have not made it available on the site. Pity.

Q: How do you make God laugh?

A: Make a plan.

Does anyone else remember a little movie called Kicking and Screaming that does not star Will Ferrell? It came out in 1995 or so, and it was directed by Noah Baumbach. I loved that movie because it totally captures that "oh shit I just graduated from university and now what" feeling. It just came out on DVD, and I highly recommend it. And while I'm sure that joke has been around forever, Kicking and Screaming was where I first heard it. I just wish it didn't apply to my life right now.

This not-napping trend is totally kicking my ass.

You see, I took on a new project for the fall thinking that not only would I have nap time every afternoon, but five whole hours on Tuesday and Thursday mornings while Charlie is at preschool. Whee! Lots of time, right? Why, no! First Charlie just stopped napping on preschool days. Then he started skipping his nap every other day. And now he can go for two days in a row without a nap even though he is an irrational, melt-down-y mess by 5:00 p.m. It's killing me.

But today, thankfully, he naps. And the sun is coming out. And despite losing my car keys on my first duty day at preschool, resulting in HS making a panicked dash to give me the keys and two cab rides later, I'm actually feeling ok today. Without meds. Who knew?

Pizza! With peaches! Really!

It's getting colder and darker earlier these days. I guess it must be fall. Alas. I did manage to make good on my "eat as much fresh produce as possible" promise though, before the tomatoes start to taste like cardboard. And I'm a wee bit tired of corn on the cob to tell the truth. But, if you happen upon some Ontario peaches that don't look too sad and wrinkly, may I suggest a pizza recipe? That's right, pizza. Grab yourself a premade pizza crust and layer on the following:

smoked salmon, enough to cover the crust
thinly sliced red onion
camembert cheese (get one of those smaller rounds, slice 'er up, and scatter about)
sliced peaches (you can use canned peaches, but fresh are so much better)

Slide it in the oven for 15 minutes or so at 400-425. If you're feeling extra fancy, scatter some shredded arugula overtop (I have not tried this, but my friend K, who's recipe this is, says it's a nice touch. I think the pizza is fine without it). It's not a combo I would have come up with, but that's what friends are for, no?

And the most important reason it is good not to be knocked up right now

It's official: Charlie has dropped his nap. Fuckity fuck.

The pros and cons

Reasons why it is good NOT to be pregnant right now:

1. I've run back in to the sweet, sweet embrace of caffeine. I couldn't help it. Charlie has decided to nap every other day, and I was on deadline. And let's face it, I'm a way better parent after a coffee. I am not a morning person, and Charlie is. How else am I going to balance that difference? At least I'm not back on my afternoon-diet-Coke kick. Yet. I was tempted by a Coke Blak while we were in the States (although HS has spotted them here), and man did that give me a nice afternoon rush. The taste is somewhat like a Coke float if you made that float with coffee ice cream. Weirdly tasty, good 'n' buzzy.

2. I just started another freelance project. I'm going to need every nap time I can get.

3. I just bought skinny jeans. (Ok, that's not such a big deal. They were on sale at Old Navy for $29, so I figured what the hell. And since I'm planning on getting knocked up eventually, I don't want to pay the $249 for the J. Brand version. And honestly, they really aren't that flattering unless you are a stick or you wear them with a cute tunic top.)

4. We are looking at making major, major changes to our lives next spring. So a baby in May would complicate things radically. And with the threat of PPD the second time around, I need to be settled and stable before another baby enters our lives. (I just finished Ghost in the House: Motherhood, Raising Children, and Struggling with Depression by Tracy Thompson. It is excellent. I recognized a lot of what I went through in this book, which is comforting and unsettling at the same time. I also read What am I Thinking by Karen Kleiman, which is a practical guide to having a baby after depression.)

Despite all of these reasons, I was still a little disappointed to see only one line on that pregnancy test. But at least I only used two tests this time.

The future

Charlie starts preschool tomorrow. I think he's ready. Oh, there will be tears I'm sure (his and mine most likely), but he'll adjust. Eventually.

But something scary hit me the other night. Charlie will be 17 when he leaves home for university (assuming, of course, he goes). Holy f*ck. Doesn't 17 seem awfully young to be on your own?

Must start an RESP.

The days are long but the years are fast

I can't believe summer is over. Just like that, it's September, Charlie's surgery was a couple of days ago, and he starts preschool next week. My heed, she reels. And I haven't even posted about our summer yet.

Yep, I did say surgery. I didn't post about it before because I was trying not to fret, but fret I did nonetheless. How can you not if your sweet baby is going to be in pain? Although it wasn't surgery, per se. There was no incision, thank god, but there was general anesthetic. This was a procedure to (please, please) fix his reflux so we can take Charlie off of at least one of his meds. It's basically two injections that will shore up the bladder wall and stop that annoying (and potentially damaging) two-way passage of urine between Charlie's kidneys and bladder. We'd like our urine going one-way only thank you very much! We talked about the operation a lot with Charlie and read every single "X goes to the hospital" book I could get my mitts on (I recommend the Franklin version over Curious George). And we talked about what was going to happen and how Charlie would get Jello for breakfast because it was a special day, and after the operation we could get chocolate milk from the cafeteria on the way home.

All things considered, the day went very well.

We fed Charlie copious amounts of Jello for breakfast. We topped him up with more before his 10:30-no-food-or-drink deadline. The nurses at CHEO were awesomely friendly, and Charlie was so chatty they decided not to give him some preliminary sleep meds because they could make him "angry-angry instead of sad-angry" when he woke up from the anesthetic. Funny, they never mentioned that before.

Charlie was great just until the hand off. Then he started to cry, and so did I. Good thing HS can hack this stuff. We handed over our baby, and they whisked him away. As we left we could hear Charlie talking about the baby in his tummy to the nurses, so I felt better. (Charlie is convinced that his has a baby in his tummy. It's a girl, and her name is Cracker. Lovingly named after his favourite snack food, but boy that name gets a few raised eyebrows. I'm pretty sure my MIL was quizzing Charlie about possible babies in MY tummy -- I brought Materna to her house, so it makes sense -- and hence little baby Cracker was conceived. I am not pregnant at this time, but we'll see next week!)

The surgery went very well. Textbook even, hurrah! But man that anesthetic f*cks them up. We definitely got the sad-angry at top volume. But after a little nap on the way home, Charlie was much better. And after a half-litre of chocolate milk, almost back to normal.

I'm exhausted, but he bounced back just fine.