PS. I also think this whole “Fun Theory” business, while clearly having an agenda, is an interesting social experiment resulting in some fantastic food for thought. Discuss.
Monday, October 12, 2009
FUN Theory
So I know this is just another painfully clever gimmick from the marketing geniuses at Volkswagen (or rather DDB Stockholm) but seriously... SERIOUSLY... it is awesome. Mission accomplished VW. You sick bastards.
PS. I also think this whole “Fun Theory” business, while clearly having an agenda, is an interesting social experiment resulting in some fantastic food for thought. Discuss.
PS. I also think this whole “Fun Theory” business, while clearly having an agenda, is an interesting social experiment resulting in some fantastic food for thought. Discuss.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Walking the Tightrope
On what a parent looks like:
"You know how the tightrope guy at the circus wants everyone to believe his act is an art, but deep down you can see he's really just hoping he makes it all the way across?"
-- My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult
In spite of the emotional avalanche that was reading this book the first time around, I'm now re-reading it in the hopes of avoiding looking stupid at my new bookclub this week. I'm also studying for a Spanish quiz, trying once and for all to get my house organised and unpacked, reading over one hundred pages of art history essays on the culture of exhibiting and making appropriate discussion notes (which have to be submitted weekly thankyouverymuch), organising an oral presentation on Emily Carr at the Vancouver Art Gallery (or should I do something less entrenched in Canadiana... hmmm... perhaps I should spend another two hours online researching blockbuster exhibitions), going to the gym five days a week (and baby yoga and stroller fitness and Starfish lessons), doing never ending amounts of dishes and laundry and seriously considering moping my floor. Oh, and I'm also taking care of six month old on my own. The last few weeks it has also become a serious goal to get at least four hours of sleep a night. Here's hoping.
"You know how the tightrope guy at the circus wants everyone to believe his act is an art, but deep down you can see he's really just hoping he makes it all the way across?"
-- My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult
In spite of the emotional avalanche that was reading this book the first time around, I'm now re-reading it in the hopes of avoiding looking stupid at my new bookclub this week. I'm also studying for a Spanish quiz, trying once and for all to get my house organised and unpacked, reading over one hundred pages of art history essays on the culture of exhibiting and making appropriate discussion notes (which have to be submitted weekly thankyouverymuch), organising an oral presentation on Emily Carr at the Vancouver Art Gallery (or should I do something less entrenched in Canadiana... hmmm... perhaps I should spend another two hours online researching blockbuster exhibitions), going to the gym five days a week (and baby yoga and stroller fitness and Starfish lessons), doing never ending amounts of dishes and laundry and seriously considering moping my floor. Oh, and I'm also taking care of six month old on my own. The last few weeks it has also become a serious goal to get at least four hours of sleep a night. Here's hoping.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Art Prodigy (Blow Your House In)
If you're a regular here you might remember this. Well, Gaia and I spent this morning at the MacKenzie Art Gallery and as always she came home with a lot to say. Perhaps I need not state the obvious but come on, clearly she's an artistic genius. Foisting my dreams on my child - who me?
G – Mama, I wanted to talk to you about the exhibition we saw today if I may.
Me – Of course. Did you enjoy it?
G – Well, it was nice to go to the gallery, as always. I do so enjoy contemporary art. But I’m left troubled by some of the issues being addressed by Vernon Ah Kee.
Me – Was it the faces? They are a little scary.
G – Don’t patronise me. While the faces were a little disturbing I wouldn’t demean them by referring to them as “scary”. Please. I thought they were a very appropriate and moving depiction of the artist’s view of how others see the aboriginal community. The hollow, black eyes and mouth offering a clear vision of a silenced, disrespected people. I found them moving.
Me – Oh.
G – I also enjoyed the exhibition title and how it suggests a re-examination of the story of the Three Little Pigs from the perspective of the wolf. I’d never thought about how we only hear one side of the story and how Ah Kee encourages us to consider different perspectives such as the pigs as colonisers taking the land from the wolf and the acceptance of a villainous characterisation and the validity within that construct.
Me – How do you know the story of the Three Little Pigs? I don’t remember reading it to you.
G – You know I do read when you’re not around. Seriously mother, can you focus? As I was saying, I just think his point of view, as an Australian aboriginal has so much resonance here in Saskatchewan with our own aboriginal community being as large as it is. He really spoke to some universal issues. The work has brought up a number of troubling issues in my mind, ones that I think are important to bring to the forefront. My hope is that exhibitions like this one might get people talking about their own biases so they can eventually be deconstructed.
Me – Wow. That’s a great point. You know, I thought it was really interesting, at the artist talk on Friday as Ah Kee was explaining his point-of-view, how he noted perhaps the wolf was trying to warn the pigs about a meteorological phenomenon (the wind that eventually “blew their house in”) or perhaps it was all just a misunderstanding because the wolf and pigs spoke a different language or came from different cultures.
G – Yes, well I would comment on that but you chose to attend the event on Friday on your own. Ahem.
Me – Gaia-bear we talked about this, it was an evening event and you know you get cranky if you’re not in bed by 8:00pm.
G – Whatever you say.
Me – Can we move on?
G – I suppose. Beyond the content I also found the presentation of his work quite striking – the row of faces and the large, bold words on the walls. In fact, the text reminded me of the work of Jenny Holtzer, who I know you enjoy, and the use of simple but evocative text to convey a message.
Me – Yes, I had made that connection as well.
G – Oh? You didn’t say. That’s convenient. Anyway. I also thought the large portrait of his grandfather was beautiful. It’s my understanding the artist does a number of these of his family members and that they have some correlation to the black and white archival photos of the Australian aboriginal community. I think it’s moving to take something used to classify or rationalise a people and transform it into a media that offers some dignity and respect.
Me – Speaking of portraits, did you enjoy the student exhibition we went through? You know, that’s the project I was working on last year while you were still in my belly.
G – I know, I remember.
Me – Oh do you...
G – Of course. It really was amazing though, to see two years of work from students up there in the gallery. I’m so looking forward to meeting the artists at the opening this weekend.
Me – Yeah. Me too.
Vernon Ah Kee: Blow Your House In is on at the MacKenzie Art Gallery until January 3, 2010. The exhibition is a culmination of the work he did as a artist-in-residence with the gallery this summer.
Looking In, Looking Out: Qui suis-je maintenant? is on until Februrary 28, 2010. It’s an exhibition of work by students who took part in an incredible bridging project which aimed to bring youth from different 'cultures' within Saskatchewan (specifically École Monseigneur de Laval, Sacred Heart Community School, Scott Collegiate, Michael A. Riffel High School and Chief Kahkewistahaw Community School) together to explore their identity and the identity of others through engagement with the variety of work displayed at the gallery from 2007 to 2009. Students got the opportunity to tour the exhibitions and respond to them with the help of a number of talented artists. Their finished work ranges from three dimensional plaster masks to Warhol-esque portraiture to video screen tests to beadwork and more. They also had the opportunity interact with each other, facing preconceived notions of their differences and breaking them down as they recognised all the ways in which they could relate. I feel incredibly lucky to have been a part of this amazing adventure while working at the gallery last year and am so looking forward to celebrating in the achievements of these students at the opening on Sunday, September 20th (1:00pm-4:00pm). If you’re in town I highly recommend you join us. It’s truly a unique and inspiring exhibition.
G – Mama, I wanted to talk to you about the exhibition we saw today if I may.
Me – Of course. Did you enjoy it?
G – Well, it was nice to go to the gallery, as always. I do so enjoy contemporary art. But I’m left troubled by some of the issues being addressed by Vernon Ah Kee.
Me – Was it the faces? They are a little scary.
G – Don’t patronise me. While the faces were a little disturbing I wouldn’t demean them by referring to them as “scary”. Please. I thought they were a very appropriate and moving depiction of the artist’s view of how others see the aboriginal community. The hollow, black eyes and mouth offering a clear vision of a silenced, disrespected people. I found them moving.
Me – Oh.
G – I also enjoyed the exhibition title and how it suggests a re-examination of the story of the Three Little Pigs from the perspective of the wolf. I’d never thought about how we only hear one side of the story and how Ah Kee encourages us to consider different perspectives such as the pigs as colonisers taking the land from the wolf and the acceptance of a villainous characterisation and the validity within that construct.
Me – How do you know the story of the Three Little Pigs? I don’t remember reading it to you.
G – You know I do read when you’re not around. Seriously mother, can you focus? As I was saying, I just think his point of view, as an Australian aboriginal has so much resonance here in Saskatchewan with our own aboriginal community being as large as it is. He really spoke to some universal issues. The work has brought up a number of troubling issues in my mind, ones that I think are important to bring to the forefront. My hope is that exhibitions like this one might get people talking about their own biases so they can eventually be deconstructed.
Me – Wow. That’s a great point. You know, I thought it was really interesting, at the artist talk on Friday as Ah Kee was explaining his point-of-view, how he noted perhaps the wolf was trying to warn the pigs about a meteorological phenomenon (the wind that eventually “blew their house in”) or perhaps it was all just a misunderstanding because the wolf and pigs spoke a different language or came from different cultures.
G – Yes, well I would comment on that but you chose to attend the event on Friday on your own. Ahem.
Me – Gaia-bear we talked about this, it was an evening event and you know you get cranky if you’re not in bed by 8:00pm.
G – Whatever you say.
Me – Can we move on?
G – I suppose. Beyond the content I also found the presentation of his work quite striking – the row of faces and the large, bold words on the walls. In fact, the text reminded me of the work of Jenny Holtzer, who I know you enjoy, and the use of simple but evocative text to convey a message.
Me – Yes, I had made that connection as well.
G – Oh? You didn’t say. That’s convenient. Anyway. I also thought the large portrait of his grandfather was beautiful. It’s my understanding the artist does a number of these of his family members and that they have some correlation to the black and white archival photos of the Australian aboriginal community. I think it’s moving to take something used to classify or rationalise a people and transform it into a media that offers some dignity and respect.
Me – Speaking of portraits, did you enjoy the student exhibition we went through? You know, that’s the project I was working on last year while you were still in my belly.
G – I know, I remember.
Me – Oh do you...
G – Of course. It really was amazing though, to see two years of work from students up there in the gallery. I’m so looking forward to meeting the artists at the opening this weekend.
Me – Yeah. Me too.
Vernon Ah Kee: Blow Your House In is on at the MacKenzie Art Gallery until January 3, 2010. The exhibition is a culmination of the work he did as a artist-in-residence with the gallery this summer.
Looking In, Looking Out: Qui suis-je maintenant? is on until Februrary 28, 2010. It’s an exhibition of work by students who took part in an incredible bridging project which aimed to bring youth from different 'cultures' within Saskatchewan (specifically École Monseigneur de Laval, Sacred Heart Community School, Scott Collegiate, Michael A. Riffel High School and Chief Kahkewistahaw Community School) together to explore their identity and the identity of others through engagement with the variety of work displayed at the gallery from 2007 to 2009. Students got the opportunity to tour the exhibitions and respond to them with the help of a number of talented artists. Their finished work ranges from three dimensional plaster masks to Warhol-esque portraiture to video screen tests to beadwork and more. They also had the opportunity interact with each other, facing preconceived notions of their differences and breaking them down as they recognised all the ways in which they could relate. I feel incredibly lucky to have been a part of this amazing adventure while working at the gallery last year and am so looking forward to celebrating in the achievements of these students at the opening on Sunday, September 20th (1:00pm-4:00pm). If you’re in town I highly recommend you join us. It’s truly a unique and inspiring exhibition.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Decir Adios
Tonight I had fully intended to finish an epic post about just what G and I had been up to for the month of August when posting was nearly non-existent. Yup. That was the plan. Except I've just arrived home from a particularly confusing Spanish class and I'm currently in engendered-language-conjugation hell and suddenly I feel like what I actually need to do is sit in front of my already well-worn copy of ¡Hola, amigos! and hundreds of flashcards until I can miraculously speak enough Spanish to a) quell my increasing level of panic and b) pass a quiz on Thursday. And before you say it, I'm well aware that we're in week TWO of THIRTEENEFFINGWEEKS of classes and inevitably it's only going to get harder from here but if I feel obliged to mention that should you bring this up I might (read: will) respond with a swift kick to your manjunk/ladybits.
In liu of my epic post please enjoy this:
"Y la verdad es que me siento solo pues nunca te podre olvidar/Y la verdad es que me siento libre aunque las noches sean de soledad/Y la verdad es que te llevo adentro pues ocupaste tu lugar/Y por tu bien espero que no vuelvas pues la vas a pasar muy mal."
-- Decir Adios by Amen (from Lima, Perú)*
I had wanted to include this song in my favourites from my Sad Bastard playlist but I couldn't find it online (turns out I had the title wrong in my iTunes which clearly only adds to my level of I'LLNEVERLEARNSPANISH panic). It was one of the first Spanish songs Jose ever played for me and it remains the saddest. I don't think I'll ever forget what it felt like to listen to his voice translate the lyrics for me as the song played on a loop in the background and I sat on the edge of his bed staring at him, smelling him, melting into a virtual puddle of semi-pathetic-woman-obsessed-with-Latin-man goo. Did I mention things we're a little rocky in the beginning. Um... yeah. Enjoy.
* The title, in English, is Saying Goodbye and the lyrics (translated roughly by me with the jist of the meaning given more weight then a word-for-word translation) are "And the truth is I never feel alone because I can't forget you/And the truth is that I feel free but the nights are lonely/And the truth is I carry you inside but someone will take your place/And I hope that it is not you because you are bad for me."
In liu of my epic post please enjoy this:
"Y la verdad es que me siento solo pues nunca te podre olvidar/Y la verdad es que me siento libre aunque las noches sean de soledad/Y la verdad es que te llevo adentro pues ocupaste tu lugar/Y por tu bien espero que no vuelvas pues la vas a pasar muy mal."
-- Decir Adios by Amen (from Lima, Perú)*
I had wanted to include this song in my favourites from my Sad Bastard playlist but I couldn't find it online (turns out I had the title wrong in my iTunes which clearly only adds to my level of I'LLNEVERLEARNSPANISH panic). It was one of the first Spanish songs Jose ever played for me and it remains the saddest. I don't think I'll ever forget what it felt like to listen to his voice translate the lyrics for me as the song played on a loop in the background and I sat on the edge of his bed staring at him, smelling him, melting into a virtual puddle of semi-pathetic-woman-obsessed-with-Latin-man goo. Did I mention things we're a little rocky in the beginning. Um... yeah. Enjoy.
* The title, in English, is Saying Goodbye and the lyrics (translated roughly by me with the jist of the meaning given more weight then a word-for-word translation) are "And the truth is I never feel alone because I can't forget you/And the truth is that I feel free but the nights are lonely/And the truth is I carry you inside but someone will take your place/And I hope that it is not you because you are bad for me."
Monday, September 14, 2009
Easily Irritated?
Note to Readers: This post contains the word vagina and a brief nod to the fact I might have had sex once before and plan to do so again in the future. If this seems like it might be verging on TMI then please avert your eyes. Dad, I'm looking at you here.
In addition to sorting out my iPod I thought I should also give birth control some consideration now that I'll be in the same country as my husband. Not that we don't love Gaia but somehow I don't think the "what are the chances?" form of contraception is gonna cut it anymore. I know, I know, you'd think I was sixteen*. Anyway. Apparently birth control is a hot topic at the moment because not only did I read a topical post from my favourite Mommy-blogger this morning but I also had a chat about NuvaRing with a friend the other day. The fact that her doctor suggested it knowing she, like me, hates the pill was enough to warrant giving it a little of my google time before seeing my own doctor this Wednesday. As far as I can tell it seems pretty similar to the pill except you don't have to remember to actually take a pill every day (which was never my issue). Then I stumbled upon something I've never seen before, among the list of conditions that might make NuvaRing a not so great option was a warning for women who suffered from "any condition that makes the vagina get irritated easily." Hmmm.
Well I'll tell you, its not real happy with Immigration Canada either. I guess NuvaRing's not for us.
* Seriously. I'm obsessed with MTV's 'Sixteen and Pregnant' and every single girl is like "well, we used protection about half the time but he didn't really like it and then we just thought it wouldn't happen to us" and I simultaneously judge them while attempting to feel superior because COME ON, the doctor told me I probably wouldn't get pregnant without fertility therapy. I say attempting because by the end of the episode I'm always hit with the realisation that the only thing that separates me and these girls is the fact that I'm twenty-seven and they're still in highschool.
In addition to sorting out my iPod I thought I should also give birth control some consideration now that I'll be in the same country as my husband. Not that we don't love Gaia but somehow I don't think the "what are the chances?" form of contraception is gonna cut it anymore. I know, I know, you'd think I was sixteen*. Anyway. Apparently birth control is a hot topic at the moment because not only did I read a topical post from my favourite Mommy-blogger this morning but I also had a chat about NuvaRing with a friend the other day. The fact that her doctor suggested it knowing she, like me, hates the pill was enough to warrant giving it a little of my google time before seeing my own doctor this Wednesday. As far as I can tell it seems pretty similar to the pill except you don't have to remember to actually take a pill every day (which was never my issue). Then I stumbled upon something I've never seen before, among the list of conditions that might make NuvaRing a not so great option was a warning for women who suffered from "any condition that makes the vagina get irritated easily." Hmmm.
Well I'll tell you, its not real happy with Immigration Canada either. I guess NuvaRing's not for us.
* Seriously. I'm obsessed with MTV's 'Sixteen and Pregnant' and every single girl is like "well, we used protection about half the time but he didn't really like it and then we just thought it wouldn't happen to us" and I simultaneously judge them while attempting to feel superior because COME ON, the doctor told me I probably wouldn't get pregnant without fertility therapy. I say attempting because by the end of the episode I'm always hit with the realisation that the only thing that separates me and these girls is the fact that I'm twenty-seven and they're still in highschool.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Sad Bastard
In the quest to get my life organised before I head off to Peru for a length of time yet to be determined I’ve set to the task of cleaning out my iPod. Unfortunately there are far too many annoying one hit wonders from my club days and an alarming amount of weird yogic chats which I can only imagine must have been snuck on there when I dated an organic masseuse/art auctioneer for a few weeks during my first contract on cruise ships. Anyway, the point is, putting my iPod on shuffle is risky to say the least. And it’s not just crappy songs I’m getting rid of, the overhaul also includes a revamp of my playlists, deleting such gems as ‘Music to Distract You from That Creepy Guy on the Skytrain’ and ‘Pretending to Study’ (both actual playlists on my iPod, thankyouthankyou) and replacing them with things like ‘Tunes for my Baby Rockstar’ and ‘Spanglish – Songs Jose Will Listen To’. As you might have gleaned, I’m a big fan of playlists and had well over fifty of them at one point. Anyway, today I stumbled upon a playlist called ‘Sad Bastard’ that I’m pretty sure came to being circa mid 2007 when Jose and I were just starting what would become the year long on and off again soap opera known as our early dating life. Clearly I was full of pain and angst and if I remember correctly the playlist was on a constant loop in my cabin for a solid three months before my roommate gave me a particularly harsh ultimatum as I lay on the floor and wept. That being said, it’s full of beautiful, haunting songs and while it was created in the spirit of relationship drama I listened to it today and it fits my mood of rage over the whole “absence makes the heart grow fonder” fodder perfectly. Plus there are a few small rays of hope that snuck into the playlist proving that somewhere deep down I knew it work out all along. Just in case you’re in the mood for a good wallow I highly suggest these depressing little nuggets...
And yes... I'm aware this post smacks of highschool angst but it's good to languish in your own self pity now and then. Try it. You'll like it.
"You are a china shop and I am a bull/You are really good food and I am full/I guess everything is timing/I guess everything's been said/So I am coming home with an empty head."
--You Had Time by Ani Difranco
"If I was my heart I'd rather be restless/The second I stop the sleep catches up and I'm breathless/This ache in my chest as my day is done now/The dark covers me and I cannot run now."
-- Wake Up Alone by Amy Winehouse
"Haven't laughed this hard in a long time/I better stop now before I start crying/Go off to sleep in the sunshine/I don't want to see the day when it's dying."
-- Twilight by Elliot Smith
"You are my sweetest downfall/I loved you first, I loved you first."
-- Samson by Regina Spektor
"You don't have to lie about where you've been/We both know you've been schemin'/So why don't you give your little voice a rest/Climb on up inside my bed and just pretend you need me?"
-- Stay by Coal
"And I'd be inclined to be yours for the taking and part of this terrible mess that you're making/But me, I'm the catalyst."
-- Catalyst by Anna Nalick
"I drink good coffee every morning/Comes from a place that's far away/And when I'm done I feel like talking/Without you here there is less to say."
-- I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You by Colin Hey
"I want to be a good woman/And I want, for you to be a good man/This is why I will be leaving/And this is why, I can’t see you no more."
-- Good Woman by Cat Power
"Don't know why I'm still afraid/If you weren't real I would make you up now."
-- Honey and the Moon by Joseph Arthur
"Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth/Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outs/Speak no feeling no I don't believe you/You don't care a bit, you don't care a bit."
-- Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap
"And I don't wanna hear you tell yourself/That these feelings are in the past/No it doesn't mean they're off the shelf/Because pain's built to last/Everybody sails alone."
-- Heal Over by KT Tunstall
"I am stil dreaming of you face/Hungry and hollow for all the things you took away/I don't want to be your good time/I don't want to be your fall-back crutch anymore."
-- Santa Monica by Everclear
"Mess up my bed with me/Kick off the covers I'm waiting/Every word you say I think I should write down/Don't want to forget come daylight."
-- Paperweight by Joshua Radin (with Schuyler Fisk)
"Leave me out with the waste this is not what I'd do/It's the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you/It's the wrong time for somebody new/It's a small crime and I've got no excuse."
-- 9 Crimes by Damien Rice (ft. Lisa Hannigan)
And yes... I'm aware this post smacks of highschool angst but it's good to languish in your own self pity now and then. Try it. You'll like it.
"You are a china shop and I am a bull/You are really good food and I am full/I guess everything is timing/I guess everything's been said/So I am coming home with an empty head."
--You Had Time by Ani Difranco
"If I was my heart I'd rather be restless/The second I stop the sleep catches up and I'm breathless/This ache in my chest as my day is done now/The dark covers me and I cannot run now."
-- Wake Up Alone by Amy Winehouse
"Haven't laughed this hard in a long time/I better stop now before I start crying/Go off to sleep in the sunshine/I don't want to see the day when it's dying."
-- Twilight by Elliot Smith
"You are my sweetest downfall/I loved you first, I loved you first."
-- Samson by Regina Spektor
"You don't have to lie about where you've been/We both know you've been schemin'/So why don't you give your little voice a rest/Climb on up inside my bed and just pretend you need me?"
-- Stay by Coal
"And I'd be inclined to be yours for the taking and part of this terrible mess that you're making/But me, I'm the catalyst."
-- Catalyst by Anna Nalick
"I drink good coffee every morning/Comes from a place that's far away/And when I'm done I feel like talking/Without you here there is less to say."
-- I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You by Colin Hey
"I want to be a good woman/And I want, for you to be a good man/This is why I will be leaving/And this is why, I can’t see you no more."
-- Good Woman by Cat Power
"Don't know why I'm still afraid/If you weren't real I would make you up now."
-- Honey and the Moon by Joseph Arthur
"Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth/Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outs/Speak no feeling no I don't believe you/You don't care a bit, you don't care a bit."
-- Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap
"And I don't wanna hear you tell yourself/That these feelings are in the past/No it doesn't mean they're off the shelf/Because pain's built to last/Everybody sails alone."
-- Heal Over by KT Tunstall
"I am stil dreaming of you face/Hungry and hollow for all the things you took away/I don't want to be your good time/I don't want to be your fall-back crutch anymore."
-- Santa Monica by Everclear
"Mess up my bed with me/Kick off the covers I'm waiting/Every word you say I think I should write down/Don't want to forget come daylight."
-- Paperweight by Joshua Radin (with Schuyler Fisk)
"Leave me out with the waste this is not what I'd do/It's the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you/It's the wrong time for somebody new/It's a small crime and I've got no excuse."
-- 9 Crimes by Damien Rice (ft. Lisa Hannigan)
PS. I’m also keeping ‘Shake That Ass’ which is probably the best workout mix ever made. Bar none.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
The Half Birthday of (Big) Baby G
Gaia is six months old today. Well, as my mother pointed out, technically she's six months old today at 9:30pm. Still. I made her this video (and yes it's for her... I have dreams of her watching it when she's away at university while she weeps over how much she misses me). Six months may seem like nothing to you but wow... it's been a lifetime... Gaia's lifetime. The video is as long as a primetime sitcom with commercials and it's my first ever attempt so there's one point near the end when the music just stops for about fifteen seconds. Sorry. I don't expect too many people to watch but that's okay. I didn't make it for you anyway. I guess what I'm trying to say is this...
HAPPY BIRTHDAY G!
Music Credits: Lullabye by The Dixie Chicks/Hold You In My Arms by Ray LaMontagne/Upside Down by Jack Johnson/My Girl by The Temptations/Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison/Better Together by Jack Johnson/(Big Girl) You Are Beautiful by Mika
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Carefree Wanderings
Speaking of Jaydeen...Do you remember how excited I was when she and her man started a joint blog? Then you can imagine my excitement now that she’s started a blog of her own. It too is chock full of photos, this time from her extensive travels. As if the photos weren’t reason enough to check it out she pairs them with travel tips and memories that will have even the least adventurous homebody itching to get out an explore the world. Enjoy.
PS. I especially love the details she's captured and puts up in the top right corner of the blog... "bubbles" from Greece... an "abstract rainbow" from Vancouver. Genius.
It Takes a Village
Yesterday afternoon I got a package. A gigantic, excessively weighty cardboard book filled with books. Thirty-one individually wrapped Spanish children’s books to be exact. That’s a little over two new books per week until Gaia and I temporarily relocate to Perú in December.* The name in the return address? Friend extraordinaire and G’s Fairy Godmother Jaydeen. Of course.
No matter what life throws me and how down I get I can always count on one thing. I have amazing friends. Like we-should-be-on-Oprah-sobbing-about-their-greatness-while-a-video-montage-of-our-friendship-plays-in-the-background kind of amazing friends. The thing about the books isn’t just the generous gift (although I do love presents). Jaydeen took the time to find thirty-one Spanish children’s books. She showed support in our quest to raise Gaia in a bilingual home. Then she took the time to wrap each book individually and leave instructions to open them slowly over the course of four months. It’s a gift that keeps giving not just to Gaia but to me as I wake up each morning painfully aware of how far away December is (97 days, 20 hours, 9 minutes and 44 seconds until we board the plane in Regina). It’s also a show of support for my own Spanish education which began formally last night.**
* Oh did I mention we’re moving to Perú? More on that later.
No matter what life throws me and how down I get I can always count on one thing. I have amazing friends. Like we-should-be-on-Oprah-sobbing-about-their-greatness-while-a-video-montage-of-our-friendship-plays-in-the-background kind of amazing friends. The thing about the books isn’t just the generous gift (although I do love presents). Jaydeen took the time to find thirty-one Spanish children’s books. She showed support in our quest to raise Gaia in a bilingual home. Then she took the time to wrap each book individually and leave instructions to open them slowly over the course of four months. It’s a gift that keeps giving not just to Gaia but to me as I wake up each morning painfully aware of how far away December is (97 days, 20 hours, 9 minutes and 44 seconds until we board the plane in Regina). It’s also a show of support for my own Spanish education which began formally last night.**
And it’s not just Jaydeen who deserves the friend of the year award. There’s Katy who ordered a gigantic package of mindless entertainment to be shipped to me in my first barfy, unemployed months of pregnancy. Katy who took almost a month off work to cook for me and clean my house and hold a newborn G at 4:00am so I could get some sleep. There’s Robin who drops everything when G and I are in Vancouver to make sure we have what we need – his house, his car, his time, you name it. There’s Rachel’s who had an extensive baby starter kit filled with enough clothing to outfit G well into toddlerhood and all of her favourite books delivered to my house while I was in Perú for Christmas. Rachel who calls me weekly and listens to me gush about G. Who gets up at 3:00am to produce a morning radio show and still spent her afternoons with us in Vancouver, playing on the swings and drinking coffee and gossiping about nothing important at all. There’s King who visited me when I was pregnant and made me start preparing and looked at the stroller and car seat combo in Babies-R-Us and said “let me, let us, we can afford it”. There’s Oz who pores over Gaia’s photos and comments and makes us feel like the most special pair in the entire world. Then there’s their parents, a never-ending network of pseudo grandparents who send gifts and give advice and cuddle G while they tell me stories of their children that make me see the world a little differently. The fact that one day I will have an adult child seems so surreal but they remind me, without saying it, that Gaia will grow and eventually, hopefully, I’ll sit on the floor with my grandchildren (related and otherwise) and ahhh... the circle of life. Right.
If you think I couldn’t possibly be luckier, just wait! I haven’t even mentioned the new friends I’ve made in Regina and the old friends I’ve re-connected with. People who make sure (consciously I suspect) that I don’t go too crazy alone in the house with G all day. Who call with invites for walks and play-dates and barbeques and dinners and gallery openings and coffee. A mommy-friend who accepts my phone calls and councils me on solid foods and toxic toys and sleep (or lack thereof). A childhood friend-of-the-family (more like a sister really) who reminds me not to lose myself in the task of being a wife and raising a child. They are my new community and I’m in awe of how they’re building themselves up around me, helping to hold me up.
I’ve always believed that friends are like the family you choose for yourself. The people you surround yourself with to fill the voids of care and support that might need filling. That’s not to say my family isn’t wonderful, but it takes a village to raise a child and Gaia is lucky to have such an extensive network of “aunts” and “uncles” who love us, not because they have to, but because they choose too. And, not to be too self-congratulatory, but I have to believe it wasn’t just luck that brought all this amazingness into our life. Gaia is also very privileged to have a mama with such impeccable taste in people.
So thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou. Big love to you all.
And back to the exciting package that got me all appreciative in the first place. This morning we opened our first two books, one fittingly titled Very First Words in Spanish (Mis Primeras Palabras en Español) and another called Cinco Pequñas Mariquitas which I translated (on my own thankyouverymuch) to Five Little Ladybugs. Clearly Gaia loves them.
* Oh did I mention we’re moving to Perú? More on that later.
** I didn't mention I’m going back to school? No? Sorry. I’m a horrible blogger.
Friday, August 28, 2009
All Apologies
I'm sorry. I really am. I make promises I don't keep. I'm inconsistent at best. I know. I know. If I were you I'd stage a dramatic blog break up with me, I would. I just don't have the patience you do. But I really do plan to get back to blogging regularly soon. In the meantime read this. It took me awhile to warm up to Dooce but with this post I'm officially in love. Power to the people. Damn the man.
PS. If I post a video of G laughing her little baby ass off will you forgive me? Yeah... I thought so.
PS. If I post a video of G laughing her little baby ass off will you forgive me? Yeah... I thought so.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Welcome to Crazy Town
You know you’re going crazy when you leave your daughter’s toys in the sink to soak and when you walk by them a minute later you’re struck by a brief wave a panic thinking “Oh SHIT, Periwinkle’s drowning... Gaia’s going to be so upset”. True story.
Another sign of madness? The fact that each of her toys has a name and personal history. Periwinkle Penguin is one of her favourites. He’s BFFs with Allister. Allister is a crocodile. The joke goes like this:
A: “Nice to meet you, my name is Allister.”
New Guy: “Oh, I get it. Like Allister Alligator right?”
A: “Um no. I’m a crocodile.”
Gaia thinks I’m hilarious. There’s also a sordid love triangle going on between Gaia, Marv and Ellie. Marv and Ellie are colourful spiders that hang off her car seat and as for the love triangle, well, I’ll save that for another post.
PS. Regular posting to commence tomorrow. Seriously. I almost promise.
Another sign of madness? The fact that each of her toys has a name and personal history. Periwinkle Penguin is one of her favourites. He’s BFFs with Allister. Allister is a crocodile. The joke goes like this:
A: “Nice to meet you, my name is Allister.”
New Guy: “Oh, I get it. Like Allister Alligator right?”
A: “Um no. I’m a crocodile.”
Gaia thinks I’m hilarious. There’s also a sordid love triangle going on between Gaia, Marv and Ellie. Marv and Ellie are colourful spiders that hang off her car seat and as for the love triangle, well, I’ll save that for another post.
PS. Regular posting to commence tomorrow. Seriously. I almost promise.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Gaia 1, Shadow 0
If you frequent my blog you’re well aware that the Jolly Jumper is pretty much Gaia’s favourite thing of all time. Tonight she was bouncing when suddenly she became irate. Her little eyebrows knotted into her patented death stare and she began to shout what can only be described as the baby talk version of obscene four-letter words, her little fist shaking above her purple face. After a few seconds I noticed her gaze was fixed steadily on what appeared to be a random spot on the floor. Confused I called in my father for reinforcements. It was he who noticed it was Gaia’s bouncing shadow that was causing all the fuss. Trust me, I thought he was crazy too until he turned off the light casting the shadow and Gaia promptly stopped her tirade and gave me a look like “don’t worry, he won’t be bothering us again” before returning to giggly jumping for joy.
Of course when she went to bed I googled* baby + shadow and found these:
I have to admit I am currently swelling with pride that my daughter isn’t some sissy afraid of her shadow. Nope. My daughter showed that shadow who’s boss.
* Frankly I could write new blog every day that consisted only of the things I Google and the answers I get. It’s both sad and ridiculously entertaining.
Of course when she went to bed I googled* baby + shadow and found these:
I have to admit I am currently swelling with pride that my daughter isn’t some sissy afraid of her shadow. Nope. My daughter showed that shadow who’s boss.
* Frankly I could write new blog every day that consisted only of the things I Google and the answers I get. It’s both sad and ridiculously entertaining.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The Catapult
Jaydeen (one of my BFFs who I write about frequently) and her main-man-Myles have started a blog which promises to be chock full of amazing photographs. Both have a wonderful and unique way of seeing the world and Jaydeen's photos in particular leave me wanting to wax poetic about life and art and travel and beauty. I've been begging her for years to get her shit together for an exhibition in Miami (where she currently lives) but for now this will have to do. A professional by no means her photos are simply a momentary glimpse of what life must look like through her eyes. We should all be so lucky to see what she sees.
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If I haven't convinced you yet then have a look at some of my favourite shots she took while she helped me survive in the two weeks after Gaia was born.
Like a Weed (You Know, One of Those Really Pretty Ones)
In honour of my (big) baby girl's 5 MONTH BIRTHDAY:
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G in her birthday suit!
For those of you interested in those sorts of things Gaia weighs 17 pounds, 14 ounces as of this morning at 8:54am. That makes her an even 11 pounds larger then this very day 5 months ago. I would make a joke about gaining 11 pounds in 5 months but I've been there... I like to call that my first year of university (ahem*40poundsin8months*ahem). Anyway. I'm not the best at measuring a squirmy worm baby but I believe she's about 26.5 inches tall. I eyeballed her head and can confirm it is still gigantic.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Dear Gaia,
I’m sorry to have to write you this letter. If I was a bigger person I could say this to your face but frankly I’ve never been great at confronting the people I love and I always find a passive aggressive letter or (in these days of modern technology) a strongly worded email is just the ticket. See, if I tried to talk to you one-on-one you’d inevitably be adorable and flash me your toothless smile and I’d forget all about what I had to say and cover you in kisses and no, I refuse to be distracted this time. I am a woman on a mission. So here it goes. Gaia. G-Bear. My little Gaia-Roo. You. Are. Driving. Me. Crazy.
There. I said it. See, I’ve done my best to be patient and ride the rollercoaster that is our life together, but here’s the thing, I need a little consistency. Please. I beg of you. Joy is what I felt the first night I let you “cry-it-out”. Joy tinged with sweet relief. You had me going for a week or so but perhaps you heard me bragging about you on the phone last night and thought you better knock me down a peg or two. Clearly waking up every two hours at almost five-months old is inappropriate. I don’t need to tell you that. You and I both know you can do better. Now, I’ll try and accept that maybe you were having a rough night. I’ve been there. Was it the two little teeth just begging to pop though your lower gums? Your body’s insistence on continuing to grow? Was it something new and exciting that neither of us knows how to deal with yet? The possibilities are endless. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt and happily and promptly got up at the sound of your cries. But here’s where things really started to get me down. Was it totally necessary, when I finally gave in and put you in my bed at 5:00am to a) continue to refuse to sleep and b) pry my unprotected mouth open so you could projectile vomit into it while I tried to catch some sneaky Zs? I mean COME ON. Now I’m sure you’re well aware that your delightful baby vomit tastes shockingly like battery acid (and before you get distracted with semantics yes, I DO know what battery acid tastes like having been convinced once by a babysitter to taste the coppery stain on my dresser... which reminds me... if I ever leave you with a high school kid who lives down the road don’t trust her, she’s just in it for the money), but beyond the horrible taste it is just disgusting to vomit into someone else’s mouth. I know I’ve taught you better than that. And as for your behaviour so far today, well, I know you’re tired but I’m tired too and frankly, I’m not the one who waged a war on sleep last night. I’m just sayin’.
My point, if I can make one here, is that I’m doing the best I can. I’m all alone here kid and my whole world revolves around you. If you could just spend a minute in my head you’d see I’m your official stalker, so consumed with you I have trouble thinking about anything else. My days consist of funny faces and tickles and bottles and wiping your poopy bum and cuddles and baby board books and developmental games and lullabies and, well, I could go on forever. Clearly I’m in love. When you break out your baby laugh and you’re in a good mood you’re friggin' gorgeous. Like seriously, seriously cute. More importantly, I’m pretty sure you’re a genius to a Stephen Hawking degree (what with being able to roll over and hold your own bottle). So please, don’t ever doubt my love for you. Here with you is exactly where I want to be. I’ve got a lot of years of steady inclines and shocking drops and loop after nauseating loop in me yet but seriously Nugget, throw me a bone. If you could just talk to the picketers campaigning to abolish naps and get your evening slumber down to a solid routine and do your best to keep your extensive bodily fluids to yourself I’d really appreciate it. And if not, well I guess I’ll deal with it. You’re worth it.
Big Love, Your Mama
There. I said it. See, I’ve done my best to be patient and ride the rollercoaster that is our life together, but here’s the thing, I need a little consistency. Please. I beg of you. Joy is what I felt the first night I let you “cry-it-out”. Joy tinged with sweet relief. You had me going for a week or so but perhaps you heard me bragging about you on the phone last night and thought you better knock me down a peg or two. Clearly waking up every two hours at almost five-months old is inappropriate. I don’t need to tell you that. You and I both know you can do better. Now, I’ll try and accept that maybe you were having a rough night. I’ve been there. Was it the two little teeth just begging to pop though your lower gums? Your body’s insistence on continuing to grow? Was it something new and exciting that neither of us knows how to deal with yet? The possibilities are endless. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt and happily and promptly got up at the sound of your cries. But here’s where things really started to get me down. Was it totally necessary, when I finally gave in and put you in my bed at 5:00am to a) continue to refuse to sleep and b) pry my unprotected mouth open so you could projectile vomit into it while I tried to catch some sneaky Zs? I mean COME ON. Now I’m sure you’re well aware that your delightful baby vomit tastes shockingly like battery acid (and before you get distracted with semantics yes, I DO know what battery acid tastes like having been convinced once by a babysitter to taste the coppery stain on my dresser... which reminds me... if I ever leave you with a high school kid who lives down the road don’t trust her, she’s just in it for the money), but beyond the horrible taste it is just disgusting to vomit into someone else’s mouth. I know I’ve taught you better than that. And as for your behaviour so far today, well, I know you’re tired but I’m tired too and frankly, I’m not the one who waged a war on sleep last night. I’m just sayin’.
My point, if I can make one here, is that I’m doing the best I can. I’m all alone here kid and my whole world revolves around you. If you could just spend a minute in my head you’d see I’m your official stalker, so consumed with you I have trouble thinking about anything else. My days consist of funny faces and tickles and bottles and wiping your poopy bum and cuddles and baby board books and developmental games and lullabies and, well, I could go on forever. Clearly I’m in love. When you break out your baby laugh and you’re in a good mood you’re friggin' gorgeous. Like seriously, seriously cute. More importantly, I’m pretty sure you’re a genius to a Stephen Hawking degree (what with being able to roll over and hold your own bottle). So please, don’t ever doubt my love for you. Here with you is exactly where I want to be. I’ve got a lot of years of steady inclines and shocking drops and loop after nauseating loop in me yet but seriously Nugget, throw me a bone. If you could just talk to the picketers campaigning to abolish naps and get your evening slumber down to a solid routine and do your best to keep your extensive bodily fluids to yourself I’d really appreciate it. And if not, well I guess I’ll deal with it. You’re worth it.
Big Love, Your Mama
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Sushi and Iconic Tees Please
I just felt the need to declare my love for the new book G's Fairy Godmother (AKA: Jaydeen) sent us from her trip to NYC.
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We've read it at least once a day since it arrived. Add to that the stylin' I ♥ NY onesie and G is officially the raddest littlest hipster ever. There are definite advantages to having a globe-trotting Godmama, which is not to say we wouldn't really love it if she moved back home too (hint, hint).
Miso in my sippy cup,
tofu in my bowl.
Crab and Avocado fill my California Roll.
We've read it at least once a day since it arrived. Add to that the stylin' I ♥ NY onesie and G is officially the raddest littlest hipster ever. There are definite advantages to having a globe-trotting Godmama, which is not to say we wouldn't really love it if she moved back home too (hint, hint).
Gratitude: Family Edition
Yesterday’s post was a bit of a downer. I’m aware of this. In fact I went to bed feeling guilty for writing it because frankly I have a lot to be grateful for. I’m big on gratitude and although I don’t pray and my feelings on a higher power are undefined and find myself silently giving thanks throughout the day. I blame it on my mother who has always shouted “THANK YOU” to the heavens when she finds a good parking spot or a cart that doesn’t wobble. Anyway, at the risk of getting all Oprah early-two-thousand-and-something-ish I thought it was about time I got back to focussing on the good things.
1. Co-Bear
The dinner he made for my Dad and me. He came over with a cardboard box full of ingredients and left us with full tummies. Only my brother would serve the largest greek salad of all time, chicken with a mango-chipotle rub and orange ginger sauce and pasta with chickpeas and tomato sauce as a unified meal. It was delicious. When we were all finished he took Gaia for a walk while my Dad and I cleaned up. If I didn't know better I'd swear he was becoming a grown-up.
The dinner he made for my Dad and me. He came over with a cardboard box full of ingredients and left us with full tummies. Only my brother would serve the largest greek salad of all time, chicken with a mango-chipotle rub and orange ginger sauce and pasta with chickpeas and tomato sauce as a unified meal. It was delicious. When we were all finished he took Gaia for a walk while my Dad and I cleaned up. If I didn't know better I'd swear he was becoming a grown-up.
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2. Kare-Bear
Our water week in which Gaia went for her first swim in the pool,
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followed two days later by her first swim in the lake.
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Even more exciting is our plans for more adventures to come. My mother makes sure we get out of the house to avoid us both going entirely crazy.
3. Ger-BearWatching the news with my Dad when the following commercial came on:
My normally deadpan father simply muttered “I hate those kids” and I laughed so hard things shot from my nose.
(Note: I love those kids and those commercials, but then again I can also do everything they can do and more while it still takes my Dad twenty minutes to send an email. You know what I’d like to see? How about “I’m a PC and I’m sixty-two”. That would be far more impressive.)
Going to the Farmer’s Market on Scarth this morning. We picked up a delightful broccoli-cauliflower hybrid that I’m fascinated with. Clearly Gaia is oblivious to its greatness.
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Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Make It Work
So, I know. Every time I commit to hopping aboard the post-a-day train again something happens and I find myself derailed. To be honest I’m just not quite myself lately and I keep waiting to wake up feeling better so I can get back to posts about poop. The culprit? My MP was looking into the immigration situation for Jose since apparently the federal government doesn’t actually believe in communicating with its citizens and showing genuine concern for their unique situations. Anyway, long story short, it would appear it’s going to be a minimum of fourteen months until Jose has even a glimmer of hope for getting into Canada. Yeah, so there’s that.
Now, before I go on here’s the thing you need to know about me (if you don’t already). I’m the most capable person you’ll ever meet. I’m the girl who goes to university full time and works thirty hours a week and volunteers here, there and everywhere and stays up until 4:00am to bake cupcakes and craft whimsical greeting cards because so-and-so’s smile looked a little off over coffee the other day and it is clearly my job to cheer them up. I have itemized, prioritized, painfully organised lists and I generally get more done before breakfast than most people do all day. Like I said, I’m the most capable person you’ll ever meet, until of course suddenly I’m not. For the most part I go through life always able to find a positive spin. Like Tim Gunn I’m always finding a way to “make it work” and “carry on”. The downside to this in that every once in awhile I find myself overwhelmed with everything I’ve tried to be positive about, usually spurred by some epic failure or disappointment and then, predictably, my facade comes crashing down and my world begins to unravel. When your only coping mechanism is to look on the bright side and you suddenly find yourself devoid of positivity, well, you can imagine the results.
When we got the immigration news I tried to take it all in stride. I immediately started a mental list of reasons why the news was good. It went something like:
1) Well at least now we know! Now we have a concrete timeline to work with! This is good news actually! Great news!
2) I might get to live in Peru and that’s cool! I’ll always be able to say “oh yeah, that was the year we lived in Peru”! Plus Gaia will get more time with her other grandparents and uncles and cousins! Yup! This is gonna be great! GREAT!
3) I... um... well...
And that’s about as far as I got before I gave in and every disappointment Jose and I have faced for the past year started pressing against my chest. The pain I’ve been pushing aside in favour of silver linings, yeah, it sucks, especially all at once. Our multiple visitor visa rejections and the fact I went though all but three-weeks of my pregnancy alone. The memories of feeling Gaia move inside of me for the first time and looking around excitedly only to realise I had no one to share it with. The way I was terrified and had no idea if everything was going to be okay and how there was no one there to reassure me. How I used to lay in bed alone and whisper “everything’s going to be okay” and pretend it was Jose just so I could fall asleep. How I gave birth with the support of someone who, while amazing, was not my husband and how all I wanted in the world was to share it with him. How much I hated feeling bitter or anything besides joy on my first night with Gaia because it wasn’t her fault Jose wasn’t there any more than it was his, or mine. How much I regretted those tears when she was only a few hours old. The pure and poisonous envy I feel every time I see families intact and want to pull them aside and shake them and ask them if they really appreciate everything they have and if they know how much harder it would be if they didn’t have the physical presence of each other regardless of how difficult just being together could be sometimes. How I spend hours when I should be falling asleep just wondering how much easier it all would be if there were two of us, especially since that other person would be Jose. Yeah. I could go on for hours about all the bitterness and bile that’s spilled over in the past week but that’s exactly why I haven’t been posting anything in the first place. See I fear and loath pity in equal amounts and try to avoid it whenever possible (an easy feat when one places their whole existence on a positive point-of-view). Still I thought maybe if I just wrote it all down (or at least scratched the surface) I might be able to let it go and get back to those longed after posts where every once in awhile I’ve even been known to make a funny.
Now, before I go on here’s the thing you need to know about me (if you don’t already). I’m the most capable person you’ll ever meet. I’m the girl who goes to university full time and works thirty hours a week and volunteers here, there and everywhere and stays up until 4:00am to bake cupcakes and craft whimsical greeting cards because so-and-so’s smile looked a little off over coffee the other day and it is clearly my job to cheer them up. I have itemized, prioritized, painfully organised lists and I generally get more done before breakfast than most people do all day. Like I said, I’m the most capable person you’ll ever meet, until of course suddenly I’m not. For the most part I go through life always able to find a positive spin. Like Tim Gunn I’m always finding a way to “make it work” and “carry on”. The downside to this in that every once in awhile I find myself overwhelmed with everything I’ve tried to be positive about, usually spurred by some epic failure or disappointment and then, predictably, my facade comes crashing down and my world begins to unravel. When your only coping mechanism is to look on the bright side and you suddenly find yourself devoid of positivity, well, you can imagine the results.
When we got the immigration news I tried to take it all in stride. I immediately started a mental list of reasons why the news was good. It went something like:
1) Well at least now we know! Now we have a concrete timeline to work with! This is good news actually! Great news!
2) I might get to live in Peru and that’s cool! I’ll always be able to say “oh yeah, that was the year we lived in Peru”! Plus Gaia will get more time with her other grandparents and uncles and cousins! Yup! This is gonna be great! GREAT!
3) I... um... well...
And that’s about as far as I got before I gave in and every disappointment Jose and I have faced for the past year started pressing against my chest. The pain I’ve been pushing aside in favour of silver linings, yeah, it sucks, especially all at once. Our multiple visitor visa rejections and the fact I went though all but three-weeks of my pregnancy alone. The memories of feeling Gaia move inside of me for the first time and looking around excitedly only to realise I had no one to share it with. The way I was terrified and had no idea if everything was going to be okay and how there was no one there to reassure me. How I used to lay in bed alone and whisper “everything’s going to be okay” and pretend it was Jose just so I could fall asleep. How I gave birth with the support of someone who, while amazing, was not my husband and how all I wanted in the world was to share it with him. How much I hated feeling bitter or anything besides joy on my first night with Gaia because it wasn’t her fault Jose wasn’t there any more than it was his, or mine. How much I regretted those tears when she was only a few hours old. The pure and poisonous envy I feel every time I see families intact and want to pull them aside and shake them and ask them if they really appreciate everything they have and if they know how much harder it would be if they didn’t have the physical presence of each other regardless of how difficult just being together could be sometimes. How I spend hours when I should be falling asleep just wondering how much easier it all would be if there were two of us, especially since that other person would be Jose. Yeah. I could go on for hours about all the bitterness and bile that’s spilled over in the past week but that’s exactly why I haven’t been posting anything in the first place. See I fear and loath pity in equal amounts and try to avoid it whenever possible (an easy feat when one places their whole existence on a positive point-of-view). Still I thought maybe if I just wrote it all down (or at least scratched the surface) I might be able to let it go and get back to those longed after posts where every once in awhile I’ve even been known to make a funny.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Cry-It-Out (To Clarify)
It felt irresponsible not to mention that “cry-it-out” isn’t actually plopping your infant in her crib and letting her cry herself hoarse regardless of her needs because, you know, you’ve got shit to do. It's an established sleep training method a la Ferber and the like. Gaia’s had a solid bedtime (within a thirty minute time period) for well over a month. She also makes very clear signs when she’s sleepy such as tugging on her ears and rubbing her eyes. When she shows signs of getting sleepy in the evening we have a solid bedtime routine (bath-massage-book-feeding). With “cry-it-out” that all stays the same I just let Gaia soothe herself to sleep instead of me bouncing/rocking her when it’s all over. Ideally I was planning to go into her room to comfort her every twenty minutes but so far I haven’t had the opportunity (which is a good thing).
For those of you eager for an update, she put herself down for two naps today (her third was in my arms) and is currently asleep in bed without a single wail. I know this could all go sour any minute as babies have a talent for flipping the switch when you’re feeling nice and secure with their routine, but for now G is all about sleep... ahhhhh... glorious sleep.
For those of you eager for an update, she put herself down for two naps today (her third was in my arms) and is currently asleep in bed without a single wail. I know this could all go sour any minute as babies have a talent for flipping the switch when you’re feeling nice and secure with their routine, but for now G is all about sleep... ahhhhh... glorious sleep.
Cry-It-Out
You may have noticed a distinct lack of posts since I’ve been back in Regina. To blame is the fact that the last three weeks have been filled with tears, nervous breakdowns and only the very occasional glimpse of a light at the end of the tunnel. I mean really, who wants to hear about me curled up in a ball on my bathroom floor weeping because my daughter won’t go to sleep and has gone back in time to be a four-month-old newborn? Anyway, it all came to a head last night when, after trying to get Gaia to sleep for over two hours, I finally succumbed to the lure of “cry-it-out”. I cuddled her until she was calm but awake and then put her in her bed, tucked a blanket around her, told her I loved her and left the room. After a mere fifteen minutes of crying she was fast asleep. It was 10:15pm. The rest of our night looked like this:
10:15pm-11:00pm – Sleep
11:00pm-11:07pm – Eat
11:08pm-11:13pm – Cry
11:13pm-4:56am – Sleep
4:57am-5:05am – Eat
5:06am-5:09am – Mildly Protest
5:10am-8:24am – Sleep
8:25am – Wake-Up Laughing – Eat Breakfast
Did I mention I’m in love with “cry-it-out”? What’s even better is when I got Gaia out of bed this morning I swear she looked proud of herself. The look was all “Geez Mama, this is so much better than you bouncing me while you weep! Clearly I am the Queen of Sleep and now that you've finally let me deal with my shit I am prepared to take over the world.” That being said, there is no way I would have been ready for this before this week. Like a junkie I needed to hit rock bottom before I could let all the attachment parenting stuff go and try a more moderate approach. In fact, I probably would have never considered it if not for my Mommy-friend who struggled for months with her daughter’s sleep habits and has written about it here. She is my personal pioneer in the field of "cry-it-out". She also wrote a post about the notion that letting your child ”cry-it-out” is about teaching them “who’s boss”. I get the impression she finds that as ludacris as I do. In our house one thing is for sure, Gaia is the boss. I’m just the head of continuing education.
10:15pm-11:00pm – Sleep
11:00pm-11:07pm – Eat
11:08pm-11:13pm – Cry
11:13pm-4:56am – Sleep
4:57am-5:05am – Eat
5:06am-5:09am – Mildly Protest
5:10am-8:24am – Sleep
8:25am – Wake-Up Laughing – Eat Breakfast
Did I mention I’m in love with “cry-it-out”? What’s even better is when I got Gaia out of bed this morning I swear she looked proud of herself. The look was all “Geez Mama, this is so much better than you bouncing me while you weep! Clearly I am the Queen of Sleep and now that you've finally let me deal with my shit I am prepared to take over the world.” That being said, there is no way I would have been ready for this before this week. Like a junkie I needed to hit rock bottom before I could let all the attachment parenting stuff go and try a more moderate approach. In fact, I probably would have never considered it if not for my Mommy-friend who struggled for months with her daughter’s sleep habits and has written about it here. She is my personal pioneer in the field of "cry-it-out". She also wrote a post about the notion that letting your child ”cry-it-out” is about teaching them “who’s boss”. I get the impression she finds that as ludacris as I do. In our house one thing is for sure, Gaia is the boss. I’m just the head of continuing education.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
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Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Pop Quiz
It’ll be two weeks tomorrow since Gaia and I have been home from Vancouver. In the last two weeks which of the following things have happened?
a) Gaia moved into her own bedroom marking our first night apart. I left both our doors open and slept with my head at the foot of my bed so I could see into her room lest she panic. She didn’t. In contrast I’m not sure I slept a wink.
b) I took Gaia in to get her four-month immunizations. After seeing how wiggly and active my child is the nurse proclaimed “Well it’s a good thing you’re married because I sure can’t imagine taking care of this little one on my own!” Ahem. Perhaps I should have asked if she’d call the embassy in Lima on my behalf.
c) I checked the Immigration Canada website (as I do every Tuesday) for any updates on our case. Not only were there no updates (nor have there been for three months) but the estimated wait time for Peruvian cases has jumped from five to eight months to nine to fifteen. Whoopie!
d) Gaia went from sleeping a successive nine to twelve hours through the night to waking up every hour, on the hour for ten days straight. She also began a campaign to abolish naps and more than thirty seconds of independent play.
e) One sunny morning in a winding Tim Hortons drive-thru line up I finally learned what a “double-double” is. The teenager in the window looked at me like I was crazy as he explained then (judgementally I feel) asked me where I was from.
f) I started a quest to fold one hundred paper cranes to hang from the ceiling in Gaia’s new room. Over fifty cranes in and it started to seem more than a little foolish. The box of cranes in the corner taunts me and guilts me into making ‘just one more’. I should be done by the end of the week.
g) During a particularly hellish night Gaia peed on my bed while getting her diaper changed at 5:00am. Too tired to change the sheets I simply piled towels on the puddle until the urine stopped soaking through and the two of us slept on said towels for the remainder of the morning. For six successive nights I simply added another towel or blanket to the pile to mask the smell of pee and continued sleeping on the soiled sheets. I am disgusting.
h) I joined a gym which (thankthelord) has a daycare. Friday marked the first time I have ever left Gaia in the care of a stranger. After a quick hour of cardio I went to pick her up and found her smiley and nuzzling up against one of the staff who proclaimed “I just love your baby... she’s so sweet and cuddly!” The shock on my face was hard to deny as I coldly responded “Well... that’s lovely for you.” (PS. Have I mentioned my daughter still won’t cuddle with me?)
i) I officially decided that caring for a four-month old is more difficult than caring for a newborn. The honeymoon is over people.
j) All of the above.
Perhaps it goes without saying that the correct answer is j). On the bright side things are looking up. I had a wonderful day visiting with friends at a beautiful farm where Gaia got to catch up with her BFF and meet chickens and horses and sheep and, oddly enough, a llama. When we got home she was in such a great mood she rewarded my weeks of endless patience with her first real giggle. Until now her laugh consisted of a high pitched, open-mouth scream. Tonight she laughed like a big-girl without pause for almost five minutes straight as I pretended to eat her legs. At least somebody thinks I’m funny.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Woof
It's true that I take an exorbitant amount of pictures of my daughter. She's four-months old and there are almost two thousand pictures in my Gaia Favourites folder which accounts for less than half of the total pictures I've taken. Sigh. More ridiculous still is that I feel compelled to post the majority of these pictures on Facebook. I think I have a problem. If I were Facebook friends with myself I'd be seriously annoyed. In fact, I'd probably delete me from my friend list. Still, at least Gaia's a human baby who shot from my loins. If you put me up next to my friend Jaydeen whose dog not only has thousands of headshots, but is also the star of her very own website that includes an increasing number of snazzy videos I look positively sane.
PS. Just kidding Jay. You know I loves me some Keelah Cornbread!
PS. Just kidding Jay. You know I loves me some Keelah Cornbread!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Crisis Averted
Katy (one of my BFFs* who I've written about here) just sent me the following from her BlackBerry:
This is why I love my friends.
* I used to call my besties BFFs in a way that was sort of tongue-in-cheek but now that Paris Hilton has a monopoly on the name for her never ending serious of reality shows I hate myself a little everytime I use it. ARG.
"Quick, tell people you know where Gaia is or we may have a crisis on our hands!"
This is why I love my friends.
* I used to call my besties BFFs in a way that was sort of tongue-in-cheek but now that Paris Hilton has a monopoly on the name for her never ending serious of reality shows I hate myself a little everytime I use it. ARG.
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Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Raising Tomatoes
Imagine if you will the following scenario. You’ve always loved tomatoes. They are juicy and delicious and the best part of a salad. You’re at a store in early spring and you notice a tomato plant amidst the plethora of gardening options. You think “Hmmm... I do enjoy tomatoes... maybe I should grow my own. How hard could it be?” So you buy the tomato plant and stick it in some dirt in your backyard. Since you’ve never grown tomatoes you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing. The abundance of gardening books and fertilisers and advice from old ladies seems overwhelming so you settle for an apathetic approach, watering the plant occasionally and feeling guilty when you forget to protect it from the frost. Then, out of nowhere, you go into your garden one day to discover the most beautiful, round, red tomatoes have sprouted on your semi-neglected plant. Are you proud of the tomatoes? Of course. But you feel a little guilty. You invite your friends over for dinner and offer up dish after dish of tomato-based goodness. Your friends are in awe. “Those are the most beautiful tomatoes I have ever seen” they gush, “you simply must tell me your secret.” Part of you longs to shout “Secret? What secret? There’s no secret you fools! These tomatoes are a fluke! A FLUKE!” That same part longs to confess you have no idea what you’re doing but a bigger part of you relishes the attention and loves that by some chance of fate you managed to grow the most beautiful tomatoes in town. So you say nothing and smile politely and thank everyone humbly for admiring the fruits of your (apathetic) labour. When you go to bed at night you are consumed with thoughts about the tomatoes. You live in constant fear that any future gardening failure might out you and people might find out the truth – you have no idea what you’re doing. Worse still is that you might lose the tomatoes forever and that, well that must be avoided at all costs.
See, that’s how I feel about parenting. I know there are a lot of people whose experience differs from mine but I got pregnant with Gaia out of nowhere with no plan and no experience with infants. Did I like infants? Sure! Who doesn’t? But did I have any idea what I was getting myself into? Not entirely. Here’s where I think our society fails new mothers. When you get pregnant you’re overwhelmed with a barrage of advice about carrying the baby and its eventual eviction. There are nutritional guides and hospital tours and birthing classes and specially made vitamins in pink bottles with a glowing pregnant woman on the front (you can’t miss ‘em). Frankly, if you’re informed enough to avoid the big no-nos chances are the cells in your womb are going to grow into a healthy baby (barring what I believe to be unavoidable tragedies like miscarriages). An even greater sure bet is that once the baby’s ready to come out it’s going to do so, regardless of whether your prepared with labour mix tapes and breathing techniques and the perfect scented candles. Yet all the educational focus for new mothers is on the before without any assistance in the crucial after (which if you ask me you need a lot more guidance for). Just like the gardener and their tomatoes with little effort on my part I woke up one day with a perfect baby girl. Am I doing the best I can? Absolutely. Do I have any idea what it is I’m supposed to be doing day by day? Not a chance. I’m flying by the seat of my pants here and it’s terrifying. In fact, if not for Google and my solitary mommy friend I’m not entirely sure I’d be equipped to problem solve at all.
Last night is a perfect example. Gaia had her four-month immunizations yesterday afternoon. They are for the same diseases and in the same doses (in proportion to her higher weight) as her two-month immunizations which had absolutely no effect on her at all. Still, from the time I put her to bed at 9:00pm to 1:00am she woke up crying on the half-hour and needed to be soothed back to sleep. Finally I realised she felt a little hot and took her temperature. It was just over one hundred and one degrees. I didn’t panic. I reached for the unopened Infant Tylenol and gave it to her as directed. Then I tried to get her back to sleep and waited. Over an hour later when she hadn’t gone to sleep and her fever hadn’t gone down I realised I had no idea what to do next. The photocopy I’d been given claimed the Tylenol was a fix-all and offered no advice beyond that. Add to the situation that Gaia was getting alarmingly overtired and her nose and throat were so mucusy she was breathing in laboured, raspy breaths and I was at a complete loss. Eventually I stripped her down to her diaper and bounced her on the ball for two hours straight while she slept with her hot face curled into my neck. If I shifted her in any way or stopped bouncing for a second she was wide-awake and crying again. By 5:00am her fever was down to what seemed like a more manageable ninety-nine degrees, but she was still tired and cranky and clingy and I ended up spending the rest of today trying to manage her fever and my exhaustion without falling apart while my heart broke for her.
Maybe they don’t prepare you because there’s no way to prepare. After over ten years of work experience and university and travelling and challenges so great I felt like nothing would ever be that hard again this is easily the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I have never taken on anything I put my mind to that I wasn’t instantly good at. When the doctor handed me Gaia it seemed simple enough. Bluntly put, my job is to keep her alive. Like the Tamagotchi I had in elementary school I feed her and change her and keep her clean. I give her lots of love and attention and do my best to make sure she’s reaching all her milestones. Unlike the Tamagotchi I can’t press reset and start again at square one if I make a mistake and that is terrifying. The pressure I put on myself, like the pressure I’m sure every mother feels, is immense.
See, that’s how I feel about parenting. I know there are a lot of people whose experience differs from mine but I got pregnant with Gaia out of nowhere with no plan and no experience with infants. Did I like infants? Sure! Who doesn’t? But did I have any idea what I was getting myself into? Not entirely. Here’s where I think our society fails new mothers. When you get pregnant you’re overwhelmed with a barrage of advice about carrying the baby and its eventual eviction. There are nutritional guides and hospital tours and birthing classes and specially made vitamins in pink bottles with a glowing pregnant woman on the front (you can’t miss ‘em). Frankly, if you’re informed enough to avoid the big no-nos chances are the cells in your womb are going to grow into a healthy baby (barring what I believe to be unavoidable tragedies like miscarriages). An even greater sure bet is that once the baby’s ready to come out it’s going to do so, regardless of whether your prepared with labour mix tapes and breathing techniques and the perfect scented candles. Yet all the educational focus for new mothers is on the before without any assistance in the crucial after (which if you ask me you need a lot more guidance for). Just like the gardener and their tomatoes with little effort on my part I woke up one day with a perfect baby girl. Am I doing the best I can? Absolutely. Do I have any idea what it is I’m supposed to be doing day by day? Not a chance. I’m flying by the seat of my pants here and it’s terrifying. In fact, if not for Google and my solitary mommy friend I’m not entirely sure I’d be equipped to problem solve at all.
Last night is a perfect example. Gaia had her four-month immunizations yesterday afternoon. They are for the same diseases and in the same doses (in proportion to her higher weight) as her two-month immunizations which had absolutely no effect on her at all. Still, from the time I put her to bed at 9:00pm to 1:00am she woke up crying on the half-hour and needed to be soothed back to sleep. Finally I realised she felt a little hot and took her temperature. It was just over one hundred and one degrees. I didn’t panic. I reached for the unopened Infant Tylenol and gave it to her as directed. Then I tried to get her back to sleep and waited. Over an hour later when she hadn’t gone to sleep and her fever hadn’t gone down I realised I had no idea what to do next. The photocopy I’d been given claimed the Tylenol was a fix-all and offered no advice beyond that. Add to the situation that Gaia was getting alarmingly overtired and her nose and throat were so mucusy she was breathing in laboured, raspy breaths and I was at a complete loss. Eventually I stripped her down to her diaper and bounced her on the ball for two hours straight while she slept with her hot face curled into my neck. If I shifted her in any way or stopped bouncing for a second she was wide-awake and crying again. By 5:00am her fever was down to what seemed like a more manageable ninety-nine degrees, but she was still tired and cranky and clingy and I ended up spending the rest of today trying to manage her fever and my exhaustion without falling apart while my heart broke for her.
Maybe they don’t prepare you because there’s no way to prepare. After over ten years of work experience and university and travelling and challenges so great I felt like nothing would ever be that hard again this is easily the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I have never taken on anything I put my mind to that I wasn’t instantly good at. When the doctor handed me Gaia it seemed simple enough. Bluntly put, my job is to keep her alive. Like the Tamagotchi I had in elementary school I feed her and change her and keep her clean. I give her lots of love and attention and do my best to make sure she’s reaching all her milestones. Unlike the Tamagotchi I can’t press reset and start again at square one if I make a mistake and that is terrifying. The pressure I put on myself, like the pressure I’m sure every mother feels, is immense.
See...
... it's not just me.
Although I've been firmly pro-natural childbirth since my teens it was Your Best Birth and The Business of Being Born that sealed the deal in the months before Gaia was born. Seriously. If you're pregnant or may ever (EVER) be pregnant in the future please at least consider alternatives beyond the induce/epidural/vaccum-my-baby-out-of-me route. I did it au natural and it was awesome.
Need a little more encouragement? A friend was blogging through labour yesterday and posted this quote on her Facebook: "There is a secret in our culture. It is not that childbirth is painful, it is that women are strong." -- Linda Stavoe Harm
Although I've been firmly pro-natural childbirth since my teens it was Your Best Birth and The Business of Being Born that sealed the deal in the months before Gaia was born. Seriously. If you're pregnant or may ever (EVER) be pregnant in the future please at least consider alternatives beyond the induce/epidural/vaccum-my-baby-out-of-me route. I did it au natural and it was awesome.
Need a little more encouragement? A friend was blogging through labour yesterday and posted this quote on her Facebook: "There is a secret in our culture. It is not that childbirth is painful, it is that women are strong." -- Linda Stavoe Harm
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Unfinished Thoughts
I’m sorry I’ve been so lame on the blogging front lately. In Vancouver I simply didn’t have time. Since I’ve been home I’ve been feeling so gross I actually thought I might be pregnant again... which I’m not... unless the three tests I took today are wrong. Add to the lack of time/energy the fact that Gaia is struggling pretty hard to give up naps entirely and I’m longing for blogging time. Still, I have so much on my mind. Here are a few things that may or may not get written about if I can ever find the time again:
- How it seems that even if I were dress my daughter up in a pink tutu she’d still get mistaken for a boy. It’s not that I mind so much just that I’ve been spending an extravagant amount of time obsessing over why everyone thinks my daughter is so butch.
- How I was a little sad when I got married that I’d never get fall in love again (well, you know, ideally) and how wrong I was. Since Jose and I got hitched I have not only gotten to fall in love with our baby girl, but also with Jose again and again in so many ways. I don’t think there’s anything else in the world like falling in love with your husband as a father. It’s pure magic.
- How rattled I am by the whole Jon and Kate divorce. I hate myself for caring, but I do. Last week I imposed an official ban on gossip magazines to not to participate in feeding the media fire. Today at the grocery store I noticed Michael Jackson has officially taken over the headlines but frankly I’m not interested in feeding that fire either.
- How amazing Gaia is in her new Jolly Jumper. I know a lot of people think they’re death traps but it makes her so happy it’s insane. I swear she thinks she’s learned to walk and jump and dance free of outside intervention but with a snappy new belt (obviously a big girl accessory).
- How Gaia and I slept in separate bedrooms on Wednesday night for the first time ever and how she did so well that I moved her into her big girl bedroom permanently which has resulted in me making over a hundred paper cranes to hang from her big girl ceiling. Crazy? Slightly. But also beautiful.
And those are just a sampling of the things I’ve been itching to write about should I ever find the time. Anything in particular tickle your fancy? Let me know and maybe it’ll give me the motivation to expand on it.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Free For Chubbies
I had planned on writing about how everytime we go out everyone thinks Gaia is a boy, but then I was alerted to THIS and decided it deserved some attention. Enjoy.
(OK... the truth is I'm tired from spending all day turning my house into a home but truly, the link above made me laugh and feel uncomfortable in equal measures. You'll like it. I swear.)
(OK... the truth is I'm tired from spending all day turning my house into a home but truly, the link above made me laugh and feel uncomfortable in equal measures. You'll like it. I swear.)
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Dear Vancouver,
I know in the past I might have given you some reason to hope that someday I’ll leave Saskatchewan and settle here with you. I’ll admit it’s tempting. You are the very picture of a perfect place to live, all ocean and mountains and tall trees blowing in the breeze. Amazing shopping and eclectic neighbourhoods and an arts community I would give my right arm to be a part of. I had a good six years with you. Please don’t ever think I won’t cherish those memories forever. The last month, while a brief affair, has been a whirlwind of fun and excitement. I’ll give you that. Still, when it comes right down to it Regina is just better for me. I’m sorry. Really though, it’s not you, it’s me.
See, while you provide an exciting escape from the ordinary, Regina has always been there like an anchor keeping be grounded. While Regina might not be as attractive or fun or charming, it’s got a lot of really wonderful qualities that grow on you and grab hold when you least expect it. While you and I have overpriced martinis and overpriced shoes and an epic university experience together, Regina and I have shared so much more. I hesitate to go into the details that would only hurt you but you have to admit, you always knew this was coming. I was born on the prairies and grew up there and I hope Gaia will too. While you hold the majority of my urban family, Regina holds Gaia’s grandparents and her fun Uncle Cody and our friends who have babies just her age. I know it almost doesn’t seem fair when I put it like that. Regina is friendly and pleasant and easy to get around. I’m learning to love the Riders almost as much as I love the Canucks and someday soon I plan to learn to bake a Saskatoon Berry Pie. Now that I’m a mother my vast list of martini recipes just doesn’t seem as practical as it did three years ago.
Really though, it’s been great, it has. But if we’re gonna get right down to it. I hate the traffic. There, I said it. I hate sitting in the car for forty-five minutes with a screaming baby in the back seat while I wait to get onto the Lions Gate Bridge. I hate that it takes me over two hours to visit some of my friends. See, it’s not that they live two hours away, just that the insane traffic congestion means I’m idling for hours. How can people live like that? And seriously, would it kill you to improve your mood a bit? I mean, the sun shines everywhere else in Canada, do you think it’s a coincidence that dark clouds always hang over you? I’ve had it with the rain. I’ll take blistering cold winters in exchange for breezy, beautiful springs and blazing hot summers and crisp, colourful autumns any day. And another thing, are your Cheerios really so superior they need to be almost a dollar more expensive then on the Prairies? How can anyone afford to live here? How can anyone afford to raise their family here? I’ll tell you one thing. It’ll be a cold day in hell when I pay three hundred dollars for a pair of jeans for my twelve-year-old so she can fit in at school. Just like those jeans sometimes I feel like you’re all flash and no substance. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Plus, I know it’s vain, but it’s been bothering me all month that my new haircut has been hanging limply in my face and my skin is breaking out in protest to your summer humidity. Frankly, in contrast to Regina, I’d have to describe you as balmy. You’ve got to do the best with what you have and I’m sorry, I just can’t do balmy.
But I digress. I didn’t write this letter to point out all your flaws or make you feel like less of a city. For some people, people I know and love, you’re just the right fit. Still, I’m the type that likes to root for the underdog and find the magic where very few see it. And you know, sometimes I want to get groceries in my sweatpants and not stick out like a sore thumb. I want to build snowmen with my daughter in the winter and take pictures of her lost in a field of wheat and watch the way her face lights up the first time she sees a prairie sunset. I’m afraid if I stay with you I’ll miss all that and more while I’m leaning on the horn stuck in another traffic jam. The bottom line, if I can find one here, is that Regina makes me want to be a better (wo)man. It reminds me that life isn’t about how much you own or how much you spend or how big your condo is. When I’m with you I get all wrapped up in the details and forget the big picture. When my daughter is twenty she won’t care that her first lip gloss was Bonne Bell and not MAC or that we bought her clothes from Superstore instead of Aritzia or that she drank her first beer in a pickup truck in some field instead of sneaking into an overpriced club. She’ll remember that her family had a house full of big dogs that she chased in the back yard and looking out the window on a White Christmas and the vacations we’ll be able to afford because we won’t be living from paycheck to paycheck.
Oh Vancouver, you’re all glitz and sparkle and you get me every time but I’m a grown up now and I need to stop being distracted by shiny things. So there it is. I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends. If not, well, you still have the Olympics and you know, that’s cool I guess.
All the Best, Risa
See, while you provide an exciting escape from the ordinary, Regina has always been there like an anchor keeping be grounded. While Regina might not be as attractive or fun or charming, it’s got a lot of really wonderful qualities that grow on you and grab hold when you least expect it. While you and I have overpriced martinis and overpriced shoes and an epic university experience together, Regina and I have shared so much more. I hesitate to go into the details that would only hurt you but you have to admit, you always knew this was coming. I was born on the prairies and grew up there and I hope Gaia will too. While you hold the majority of my urban family, Regina holds Gaia’s grandparents and her fun Uncle Cody and our friends who have babies just her age. I know it almost doesn’t seem fair when I put it like that. Regina is friendly and pleasant and easy to get around. I’m learning to love the Riders almost as much as I love the Canucks and someday soon I plan to learn to bake a Saskatoon Berry Pie. Now that I’m a mother my vast list of martini recipes just doesn’t seem as practical as it did three years ago.
Really though, it’s been great, it has. But if we’re gonna get right down to it. I hate the traffic. There, I said it. I hate sitting in the car for forty-five minutes with a screaming baby in the back seat while I wait to get onto the Lions Gate Bridge. I hate that it takes me over two hours to visit some of my friends. See, it’s not that they live two hours away, just that the insane traffic congestion means I’m idling for hours. How can people live like that? And seriously, would it kill you to improve your mood a bit? I mean, the sun shines everywhere else in Canada, do you think it’s a coincidence that dark clouds always hang over you? I’ve had it with the rain. I’ll take blistering cold winters in exchange for breezy, beautiful springs and blazing hot summers and crisp, colourful autumns any day. And another thing, are your Cheerios really so superior they need to be almost a dollar more expensive then on the Prairies? How can anyone afford to live here? How can anyone afford to raise their family here? I’ll tell you one thing. It’ll be a cold day in hell when I pay three hundred dollars for a pair of jeans for my twelve-year-old so she can fit in at school. Just like those jeans sometimes I feel like you’re all flash and no substance. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Plus, I know it’s vain, but it’s been bothering me all month that my new haircut has been hanging limply in my face and my skin is breaking out in protest to your summer humidity. Frankly, in contrast to Regina, I’d have to describe you as balmy. You’ve got to do the best with what you have and I’m sorry, I just can’t do balmy.
But I digress. I didn’t write this letter to point out all your flaws or make you feel like less of a city. For some people, people I know and love, you’re just the right fit. Still, I’m the type that likes to root for the underdog and find the magic where very few see it. And you know, sometimes I want to get groceries in my sweatpants and not stick out like a sore thumb. I want to build snowmen with my daughter in the winter and take pictures of her lost in a field of wheat and watch the way her face lights up the first time she sees a prairie sunset. I’m afraid if I stay with you I’ll miss all that and more while I’m leaning on the horn stuck in another traffic jam. The bottom line, if I can find one here, is that Regina makes me want to be a better (wo)man. It reminds me that life isn’t about how much you own or how much you spend or how big your condo is. When I’m with you I get all wrapped up in the details and forget the big picture. When my daughter is twenty she won’t care that her first lip gloss was Bonne Bell and not MAC or that we bought her clothes from Superstore instead of Aritzia or that she drank her first beer in a pickup truck in some field instead of sneaking into an overpriced club. She’ll remember that her family had a house full of big dogs that she chased in the back yard and looking out the window on a White Christmas and the vacations we’ll be able to afford because we won’t be living from paycheck to paycheck.
Oh Vancouver, you’re all glitz and sparkle and you get me every time but I’m a grown up now and I need to stop being distracted by shiny things. So there it is. I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends. If not, well, you still have the Olympics and you know, that’s cool I guess.
All the Best, Risa
Monday, July 6, 2009
If They Could Just Spend One Day With Us...
Of everything I’ve done this year there is one thing I am especially proud of. It’s not growing a baby, or successfully helping that baby exit through my body or caring for her on my own once she was out. If I had to narrow it down to my single greatest accomplishment in the last year it would be that somehow, inexplicably, I’ve managed to stay positive through the back and forth of mine and Jose’s struggles with immigration. I hesitate to write about it, fearing it might result a verbal avalanche of self-pity and pure hatred towards the government. Still. With every disappointment we’ve found hope. Hope is a beautiful thing but today I felt a little bit of my hope slip away. I feel defeated.
“If they would only spend a day with us they would let him in” I think.
If they could see the way Gaia smiles at him. It’s a smile I see every morning when I get her out of bed. One not seen by the public and too precious to be photographed. A smile that wouldn’t be forgotten anyhow. That smile is the first time my daughter said she loved me. That smile says she loves Jose too. I wonder if she remembers him from the three weeks she spent in Peru in the womb. Does she remember the way he slept with his face right next to hers? The way he called her Gaia and kissed her and told her all of his stories through my bellybutton? I wonder if the way he smells has become a part of me, if he runs through my veins and she thinks of us as a set. Her parents.
How can we be somebody’s parents and still be kept apart by wait times and proof of relationship forms and immigration hotline numbers? Does that seem right to you?
I wonder if she knows why he’s rarely with us and if she cuts the desperation by living off a steady diet of hope. I wonder if maybe that’s just me.
For the last year we’ve always had something to buoy our hope. When he was denied for the first Visitor Visa we got through by perfecting the applications for our second shot. We rescheduled flights and consulted lawyers and crossed our fingers extra tight. The second denial stung the most, it was the rejection killing our hope, until we realised hope was the only thing we could count on and clung tight to the pieces we had left. Quickly decisions were made and I had a trip to Peru and Christmas with my in-laws and a marriage to focus on. Then it was applying for Permanent Residency. Complicated forms and letter upon letter and triple checking everything before our twenty pound package was on its way. Before I knew it there were the last months of my pregnancy. Prenatal yoga and nesting and fights over baby boy names. It was anything to avoid thinking of Jose not being there for the birth. Anything to not want to fly to Mississauga to let Immigration Canada feel the extent of my rage and distract myself from thoughts of burning that mother down. Anything not to think about how a country that preaches equality and fairness in opposition to the red-white-and-blue downstairs could take away that experience from us both like it didn’t even matter. Like we’d ever be able to get it back. When people ask if labour hurt I want to tell them that nothing could hurt as bad as not having the person you love there with you. Nothing could burn like that loneliness. I just say “nope” and smile instead. It’s the hope that covers the bitterness. Then it was the baby who became our hope in human form. It was two hours a day on Skype and stories about our child and learning to be a family when countries separated us. Didn’t I always say that there were all different types of families? Then it was a countdown to a new job for Jose, one that would bring him to us twice a month. It was packing and preparing and excitement. It was three days. Twenty-six hours of being a family. The best twenty-six hours I have ever spent. Every. Single. Second.
Today was our last day. Jose won’t be given anymore Vancouver days off. We have no plan for the future. No idea when we might see each other again. Ship work means two hour conversations are condensed into a ten minute phone call and one email a day. No one at Immigration Canada will talk to us and we know our paperwork sits near the bottom of the pile at the embassy in Lima. We have no end point. No magic date to count down to. We are exhausted from the hope. There’s only so long that you can let hope feed you in place of the dreams you rest it on. I hate myself for complaining. All my life I’ve known that nothing is ever as bad as it seems. That there are millions in far dire circumstances then mine. I try to save a little hope for them too and let the emotion I focus on myself be gratitude. I am grateful. For a husband who loves me and our healthy baby. For the way I know that nothing could make him as happy as watching me and Gaia for hours. For the way she smiles and him and he smiles at me and I smile at her. For the way that we share the smiles that no one else ever gets to see. Now that I’ve exhausted my hope I think I’ll focus on my gratitude. Maybe we’re just too lucky to be together every day. Like meteor shower or Canucks playoff victory maybe we’re lucky enough to have something so beautiful we can’t experience it every day because it’s rare and worth the wait.
That being said, if anyone has some connections with Immigration Canada feel free to pull a few strings for us. If you can get Jose into the country I promise we’ll make an effort to find something to fight about like who has to take out the garbage or why I refuse to change the toilet paper roll (I mean really, it’ll just run out anyway).
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
O Canada
Happy Canada Day from Me and Baby G!
(See Canadian government... we love Canada... can you let my husband into the country now please?)We're roadtripping to Seattle for the afternoon to rescue Gaia's Fairy Godmother (currently en route from Miami) from the Americans and bring her back to the homeland to celebrate. WOOO HOOO!!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Unicorn Rainbow Sprinkle Baby
About a week ago Gaia finally found her feet. She caught hold of one of her toes and hasn’t willingly let go since. I, of course, beamed with pride and gushed “Ooooooo! Good job baby girl! You are the smartest, most wonderful, most talented baby in the whole wide world!! You. Are. A GENIUS!” It’s true. Minutes later when she managed to roll to her side unassisted I thought the neighbors might come over to check I wasn’t having a mild seizure. The sheer volume of my praise sent the dog into a barking fit that lasted almost five minutes. Am I logically aware that these are pretty average milestones in the life of an infant? Yes. Did that stop me from documenting the occurrences with hundreds of photos in mere hours and passing the momentous news on to my husband, my parents, my in-laws and Gaia’s Godmother? No.
Working in a variety of childcare settings I’ve grown to hate those parents. You know, the ones who chalk every instance of good/bad/ugly behavior up to the belief they cling to blindly…
“Oh,” they proclaim proudly “my child is gifted.”
Alas I can feel myself quickly becoming one of them. I have visions of Gaia standing at the corner of the stage during a ballet recital sucking on her tutu and picking her nose while the other little girls pirouette around her.
“Isn’t she wonderful?” I’ll say to no one in particular. “I’ve always said she had her own sense of rhythm that’s just sooo above the other girls.”
I hate myself already. Or, you know, I would if my daughter wasn't genuinely gifted. Obviously. Ahem.
To make matters worse it’s not just milestones met that send me into a frenzy. At numerous points throughout my day I find myself consumed with staring at Gaia in awe. “There’s just no denying it,” I think to myself “I have given birth to the world’s most adorable baby.” Desperate to maintain to my last shred of sanity I’m always quick to give my head a shake and remind myself that all mothers feel the same about their children. Still today I woke up to a message from a friend that made me feel slightly less crazy. Apparently she’d been showing a friend pictures of Gaia when the mere sight of my baby caused him to proclaim “SHE’S SO FUCKING CUTE IT’S LIKE SHE FELL OUT OF A UNICORN’S ASS AND IS MADE OF RAINBOWS AND SPRINKLES!”
HAH! I KNEW IT!
Working in a variety of childcare settings I’ve grown to hate those parents. You know, the ones who chalk every instance of good/bad/ugly behavior up to the belief they cling to blindly…
“Oh,” they proclaim proudly “my child is gifted.”
Alas I can feel myself quickly becoming one of them. I have visions of Gaia standing at the corner of the stage during a ballet recital sucking on her tutu and picking her nose while the other little girls pirouette around her.
“Isn’t she wonderful?” I’ll say to no one in particular. “I’ve always said she had her own sense of rhythm that’s just sooo above the other girls.”
I hate myself already. Or, you know, I would if my daughter wasn't genuinely gifted. Obviously. Ahem.
To make matters worse it’s not just milestones met that send me into a frenzy. At numerous points throughout my day I find myself consumed with staring at Gaia in awe. “There’s just no denying it,” I think to myself “I have given birth to the world’s most adorable baby.” Desperate to maintain to my last shred of sanity I’m always quick to give my head a shake and remind myself that all mothers feel the same about their children. Still today I woke up to a message from a friend that made me feel slightly less crazy. Apparently she’d been showing a friend pictures of Gaia when the mere sight of my baby caused him to proclaim “SHE’S SO FUCKING CUTE IT’S LIKE SHE FELL OUT OF A UNICORN’S ASS AND IS MADE OF RAINBOWS AND SPRINKLES!”
HAH! I KNEW IT!
Monday, June 29, 2009
A Mental Vacation
Consider this an apology for three whole days without a single post. I have a lot to say but as yet have not found the appropriate words to say it. Soon. Or maybe I just need a few days to not have the appropriate words so I can just pick up where I left off and leave these last three days a mystery. We'll see. I'm fine. Gaia is fine. Jose is fine. My family and friends are all fine. Well. More or less. My life? My life is beautiful. Still I wait for the other shoe to drop. I'm always waiting. I teeter on the edge of having everything I never knew I always wanted while I cling to the fear that it could all be taken away. Just like that it could all be taken away. I like to think of myself as a pretty realistic person. Good and bad. Black and white. Right and wrong. I'm big on fairness. On karma. On the golden rule. A number of things have happened this week that have reminded me that life isn't always fair. Bad things happen to good people. Good people who don't deserve the sadness or shock or loss. Good people who don't deserve the struggle. I'm taking a week off from the news, from the media, from the gossip magazines and CNN and from the fiction. It's become clear that now is not the best time to read My Sister's Keeper. I'd say it's apparent the movie can wait awhile too. I'm taking a week off from the deaths and the injustice and the broken hearts and publicity stunts and tragedy that seems to be taking over my mind this week. I'm taking a break.
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