169 Days

It’s been one hundred and sixty nine days since I posted about my inner dialogue and the vacation it took without me. Since then a lot has happened.

In brief: Jose Miguel and I separated. Mi familia y yo had an amazing/awkward/perfect/painful last week as a family in Perú. Two-thirds of mi familia flew back to Canada. One-third of mi familia screamed for over an hour on a flight from Winnipeg to Regina. A gorilla, a robot, some long-lost members of Jem and the Holograms and my Dad met us at the airport. Saskatchewan, as always, proved cold and somehow comforting. I made some bad choices, obsessed a little and lost twenty-five pounds from the stress of it all. I’ve never looked better. I started Spanish 101 and found myself in a level of hell only verb conjugation can create. I started reading and writing en español at a level I never thought I’d reach. I felt proud of myself. Jose Miguel was approved as a Permanent Resident of Canada after well over a year of waiting. We were told our paperwork was some of the quickest of anyone in our situation. I still want to burn Immigration Canada to the ground. Jose Miguel moved to Canada. Turns out the full three-thirds of mi familia in one house is amazing. We vaguely looked into filing for divorce but then something came up. Gaia learned to walk after an intense session with her personal Phys Ed teacher while Canada was winning an insane amount of gold medals in the Olympics. I finally went to Salsa night. I didn’t dance. I bought a car. I actually won’t own it for four years. Semantics. I tried snowboarding for the first time and I was amazing, even if I couldn’t move for almost a week after. I applied for a job, got offered a job and turned a job down. I’m glad I changed my mind. I love my job. Jose Miguel stayed home with Gaia full-time for almost a month. He’s an amazing father and still the most handsome man I’ve seen up close. The fact that we’re horrible at being married remains. I started running every morning at 6:00am. It made me feel strong and powerful and brave. We celebrated Gaia’s first birthday with a big party and a cake only my Dad could create. Jose Miguel took one last contract on ships. He left. Gaia got a spot at a home daycare. Gaia got kicked out of a home daycare. Gaia got a spot at an amazing, reputable, government subsidised daycare. I was reminded that everything happens for a reason. Gaia and I went to Vancouver for a visit. She made a lifelong friend in a big black dog, had her first experience with finger paint and was the star at her second first birthday party. She did this while wearing an excessively large tutu. I got to catch up, tell my story and celebrate the thirtieth birthday of one of the most amazing people I know. I felt like I could breathe again. We went home. I started a passionate love affair with coffee. Gaia started a passionate love affair with making friends. We are all very happy. I bought an iPhone. I took a week off Facebook. My Dad started cooking family dinner on Sunday nights. I got to dress like a grownup every day. It’s been said, by my boss, that I could take over the world all while wearing six-inch heels. She’s a smart lady. Gaia was exposed to every germ in existence. One day I caught her licking the floor at daycare. She was sick a lot. She stopped sleeping through the night. I talked to Jose Miguel on the phone almost every day. Who would have thought? I got my hopes up for spring and then it started snowing again. I questioned my decision to live in Regina. I started dating, realised I was bad at it and quit. I cut over ten inches of hair off my head. I was relatively unmoved but I’m pretty sure my stylist cried after I left. I had a picnic with my Mom. Gaia enjoyed her first ice cream cone... and her second... and her third. The sun came out and we got a big plastic pool shaped like a shark. Again, I got my hopes up. It was grey and rainy for a month. I cleaned my bathroom. Gaia proved she is a budding genius through a series of events I relayed to anyone who would listen. She started running everywhere. I finally sorted through all my old boxes, found I’d saved every piece of paper from university and threw it out. Now I have a whole extra room in my house. I’m planning on setting up a studio space for me and my girl. Gaia still doesn’t speak save for “Mama”, “Dad-Dad” (what she calls her Grandad) and “Uh-Oh” but she is the best non-verbal communicator I’ve ever met. She now knows the signs for “please”, “more” and “all done” thanks to the wonderful women at daycare. She has a genuine best friend who makes her laugh like no one else. They have perfected the best friend high-five. She climbs up the stairs, up the couch and up the walls. I’ve taken to telling strangers she is NUTBALLS when they look at her picture in my iPhone. She is. I drank many glasses of red wine and got drunk for the first time in a long time. I went to a lot of BBQs, playdates, dinners and a gala. I had my picture taken by Regina paparazzi one night with my boss. Apparently I’m Regina famous (or rather, employed by someone who is). A good friend came to town. We ate the best burger I’ve ever tasted, hosted a BBQ, drank a lot of Big Rock Lime Beer and bought fifteen dollars worth of jellybeans. I redesigned the blog one night while I watched Whip It. Jose Miguel and I made some decisions. We're still not divorced. This weekend the sun started shining. I got a tan while logging working hours and danced on the grass with Gaia when I was finished. Last night I took her to the park. She slid down the slide on her own for the first time. She perfected the art with at least eighty more solo slides before I could get her back home. As a result I think I developed an arm muscle I didn't know existed. This morning I felt like writing.

I make no promises, but... I'm back. Did you miss me?

Giving Thanks

Music Credit: Thank You by Led Zeppelin

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.**

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

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!

Crisis Averted

Katy (one of my BFFs* who I've written about here) just sent me the following from her BlackBerry:

"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.

Homosexual Ties and Other Reasons To Be Friends with Robin

Lots of you know Robin. I’ve also blogged about him here. Being the fantastic guy he is he’s opened his home to me and Gaia for the next month or two. Just to make things crystal clear I’m talking single-guy-scrapes-pizza-crusts-off-floor-cleans-toilet-moves-out-of-bedroom-onto-couch-walks-to-work-so-we-can-borrow-his-brand-new-car-completely-shares-everything-with-a-ONE-for-me-TWO-for-mama-and-baby-attitude opens his home. His generosity knows no bounds, nor does my gratitude. I just thought I should put that out there.

Plus I'm pretty sure when we're hanging out each of us is just that much funnier. Case in point - last night Gaia fell asleep on my chest on the couch. Not only did I make Robin turn off the TV so she would stay that way, I shot him a series of death glares every time he made the slightest noise (baby sleep is not something I take lightly these days). Suddenly, devestatingly, I knocked the remote control off the couch with a shift of my ample ass and cringed as it crashed to the ground. The following transaction took place in barely audible whispers...

Roberge - WHAT!?! Are you serious?
Me - What?? It wasn't me. It was my big ass and you better believe I'm going to give it a stern talking to.
Roberge - Yeah man... you better cut that thing down to size... (cue rimshot)

I'm pretty sure we're the only people who think we're funny but I laughed so hard the baby almost ended up on the hard wood floor beside the remote control. I'm happy to report she slept through the hilarity.

PS. I decided the homosexual ties story might not translate thus omitted it from the post as originally written. The title stayed. Just trying to throw you all for a loop.

Yellow Poop and Other Reasons Why Life is Good

Given the horribly depressing mood of Thursday’s post I thought I should write a little something to perk things up around here. List format seems best as I’ve got a million and one things to do this morning.

1. I opened my email yesterday to find an amazingly supportive message from my official ‘Mommy Friend’. It made me feel like someone understood, like somebody cared and invariably made me feel like a better mother. Plus it made me laugh out loud. If you have a baby but don’t have a ‘Mommy Friend’ you should go find yourself one immediately. She won’t be as great as mine of course but we can’t all be so lucky.

2. I bit the bullet and started Gaia on soy formula yesterday to see if it made a difference to her demeanour, skin and poop (I’m a mama and an excessive portion of my mind space revolves around baby poop... deal with it). I know they say it can take up to two weeks to notice a difference but she drank the first bottle without stopping, without fussing and without tensing her entire baby body for the first time during a feeding in almost two weeks. She eagerly consumed three more bottles in the late afternoon and evening, each followed with a dainty burp, some big smiles and quick cat-naps. When I went to take her diaper off for her bedtime bath it was filled with the most glorious baby poop I have ever seen. Not only was it the perfect soft consistency but it was... wait for it... YELLOW! Gaia officially had her first appropriately coloured baby poop. I almost kissed the dirty diaper I was so happy, but I settled for kissing Gaia instead. She acted nonchalant but I know she was excited too. I also feel it’s important to note that the reason I hadn’t noticed she’d pooped was that she didn’t clench up, stop breathing, turn purple and grunt while pooping, but rather hummed the little BM song I’ve heard from all the breastfed babies I know. I still have a nagging worry that the fact the formula is iron-fortified might be a problem but overall I feel the experiment has been a success. Did I mention I put her to bed at 10:00pm and she’s still sleeping? It’s almost 8:30am. Yeah.

3. I have amazing parents. I moved far away from home in my teens and while brief instances reminded me of this fact overall I think I grossly underestimated them. If they weren’t so fantastic there is absolutely no way I could be doing this all on my own. Plus they’ve been divorced for almost ten years and when I came home from running errands yesterday they we’re tag teaming a screaming Gaia, trying to get her to sleep. This is the kind of civilised behaviour everyone should expect from two people who chose to have children together, even if they later chose not to share their lives. Unfortunately I know lots of people who aren’t so lucky. Thank God for Grandparents. Especially Gaia’s.

4. In a few short hours Gaia and I will be boarding a plane to Vancouver. Not only is Vancouver my official ‘happy place’(the ocean, the mountains, the trees and the sky... oh my... not to mention the shopping) but it’s also jam-packed with some of my best friends in the world. I don’t care if it rains all summer... I love it there.

5. In just thirty-two hours I get to pick up my husband at the airport after one hundred and fifty-one days apart. Better still, he gets to hold his daughter for the first time. Words can’t express my excitement.

Postcards From the Edge

I met Jaydeen working as a counsellor at a summer camp when I was fifteen. We bonded over our mutual love for men, babies and questionable situations. When I got pregnant she was among the first people I told, mainly because she always knows the right thing to say, but also because she was my boss and I needed to know if I was going to have to resign from ships. In the nine weeks between the time I found out about the pregnancy and finally found a job I had a lot of time on my hands to harass her at work via email. Below are some of my favourite conversations.

July 30, 2008 (5 Weeks Pregnant)

Jaydeen – OK, so I am reading a book and there is a character named Venice because that's where she was conceived. So I was thinking... Celona?

Me – Haha! I was actually pondering Estrella as the middle name regardless of gender. That would be the infamous Barcelona "street beer" we got smashed on pre and post-coital. Tacky? It means star. We'll see what Jose thinks of that. I think the name conversation will take months.

Jaydeen – Estrella for a girl, awesome. I don't think Estrella will fly for a guy's middle name. Too feminine, especially with the "ella" at the end. Jose won't go for it... you might as well name your future son "Fairy". Dear future baby - If she goes with Estrella, I tried to help.

Me – Keep in mind though Jay... it's Spanish right so the double 'l' is pronounced as a 'y'. I think it makes it a million times less feminine. Besides... it's a middle name. No one cares about the middle name. It's true. Plus, if it's a boy he's going to be WAY more attractive than all the other little boys anyway so having a girly middle name can only serve to give him perspective.

Jaydeen – I speak español, I know the pronunciation... just throwing it out there. I do agree a boy would be beautiful, as long as he doesn't get Jose's ginormous head. Man Risa, I'm so excited. I already love this baby so much!

Me – I know you speak español... I was just reminding you lest you forget. Jose's head really isn't that big... I don't think. What about Rambla or Ramblas for the boy middle name? I don't think it's nearly as cool but the significance stands. Just keep your fingers crossed that all your little God babies don't get named after characters from Nacho Libre. If it was up to Jose we'd have little Chancho, Nacho and Ramses. Think on that. We shouldn't get too excited though Jay... I haven't even gotten my first ultrasound and gotten a viable heartbeat yet. Anything could happen at this stage. Anyway... now that I've been an official Debbie Downer I think I'm going to go eat some Mac and Cheese.

Jaydeen – You made me laugh so hard! In Barcelona for the next two days so I’ll have to be careful of roaming sperm attempting to impregnate me. And I understand the point that you're at with the pregnancy. Most people don't share news until three months so I am with you this whole way!

Me – Watch out... Barcelona is tricky. I think not having sex with your Latin boyfriend while you're secretly ovulating might help. We were asking for trouble really. Just keep those legs crossed.

August 28, 2008 (9 Weeks Pregnant)

Good Morning!! I just wanted to let you know that since we talked about two and a half hours ago I've thrown up no less than three times. The last one was the best... I didn't notice the chunk of regurgitated apple pie in my hair until it hit me in the face when I tried to get back in bed. Whoever said pregnancy was magical must have also been on meth.

September 1, 2008 (10 Weeks Pregnant)

Hopefully I'm not speaking too soon BUT... I DIDN'T THROW UP TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!! Just so you understand the magnitude this is the first day since early July I haven't barfed at least once. I'm telling you Jay... this pregnancy thing blows hard. Does that make me a horrible person? Seriously though... don't do it.

September 7, 2008 (11 Weeks Pregnant)

Me – So I've been watching old episodes of ANTM and Project Runway so the baby comes out FIERCE. I know... I'm brilliant.

Jaydeen - That is oh so clever. Did you see the brand new one that started last week?

Me - Yes I did. That episode was great because it'll teach the baby tolerance should he or she ever decide they're transgendered or have to stand up for someone who is. Oh ANTM... it should be on TLC (the LEARNING channel) really.

PS. Did I tell you I`ve started calling the baby UBER-FETUS because it's already far superior to other spawn??

Jaydeen - Are you keeping a diary of this shit? Honestly.

September 24, 2008 (13 Weeks Pregnant)

I'm freaking out. I didn't know that this happened once the baby starts kicking. It's like an alien trying to escape. It doesn't look pleasant. EEK. Not pleasant. Seriously... why don't people tell you your baby is going to try and escape through your tummy prior to birth?


Finally, just for kicks, and because I`m enjoying this little stroll down memory lane, here`s a favourite from the week leading up to Gaia’s birth.

March 10, 2009 (38 Weeks Pregnant – 2 Days to Delivery)

Me – I took the day off today because I'm exhaustamified and now that I'm all napped out and bored I just wanted to remind you that you'll be here in FOUR DAYS.... Woot! Woot! You better be excited bitches! I may be gigantic and tired and boring and living in a house with only two chairs BUT we're gonna have good times!! Oh and I made some cupcakes that look suspiciously like boobs... I didn't realise until it was too late. Whoops. If you're lucky there may be some boob-cakes left when you arrive.

Jaydeen – Save me a BOOB-CAKE! Or half a boob-cake. I am OK with half because I am majorly dieting. I have this image of me coming back to work and telling everyone that I didn't go to Saskatchewan, but in fact went to fat camp.

Me – I hate you tell you this Jay... but I think visiting your pregnant friend is the exact opposite of going to fat camp. Today for lunch I had a protein smoothie, three boob-cakes, numerous scoops of icing and an entire box of Kraft dinner (extra creamy). Oh, and I added some cheddar to the KD.... and by some I mean two handfuls. When I got your email I was seriously considering getting off my ass for the fudgcicles in the freezer. Seriously.

Testing. Testing. One. Two. Three.

Is anyone out there? It seems I’m making a real go at this blog thing, but part of me wonders exactly who, if anyone, is intrigued enough by my average life to be reading. Who are you? What do you like about the blog? What do you hate? What would you like me to write about? If you’re out there let me know. I’d love any feedback you have! Oh but if you’re going to tell me I’m wordy and a tad self-indulgent don’t worry... I know. I’m pretty sure after twenty-seven years of much of the same that’s not about to change.

In other news I finally took a picture of the super creative baby gift we received from “Mahi Mahi”, a good friend and one of the sweetest, most adorable Royal Caribbean Youth Staff I met in my travels. Moulded from Model Magic, an Adventure Ocean staple, it’s an adorable version of my little family. Until life can imitate art I guess I’ll have to make do with the fact that at least the Crayola version of me gets the two people she loves most in the world in the same country (and living quite a happy life on my shelf I might add).

A Rose By Any Other Name (An Epilogue)

This long weekend Gaia and I are lucky enough to have a visit from Rachel, one of my favourite Vancouverites and official auntie/baby stylist. Being around Baby G seems to have sparked a pretty solid case of baby fever in my previously anti-baby friend which, of course, led us to spend our evening poring over The Baby Name Bible. Amongst debates over the validity of colour names (both for) and a struggle to imagine what type of person would name their baby Bran, I found myself thinking of our battle to name Baby G. Here’s how we finally came to our conclusion.

GAIA (GUY-ah) ~ Greek, “Earth Mother” ~ The name of the Greek mythological earth goddess and universal mother.

My heart broke a little the day Jose put an official vito on the baby name I’d been coveting since my early teens. From that point on I couldn’t imagine any suggestion he made standing a chance. Call it selfish, but I dare you to feel differently should you ever find yourself in the same situation. On my first night in Peru, while sitting in the sand and watching the moonlight on the ocean I finally asked Jose what he thought we should name the uber-fetus. He suggested Gaia without missing a beat. In his mind, her name was Gaia from the start. Depending on his mood when you ask him his likely to give you one of two versions of the official name story. The first one has him waxing academic about mythology and his time in Greece. The other has him extolling the virtues of a video game he was obsessed with in the months of unemployment he went through while we made our first attempts to get him into Canada. I’ll leave it to you to decide which one sounds more plausible.

It took a lot of convincing, but in the end I gave in to his beautiful accent and the way he looked when he called my belly Gaia. Plus it just seemed right to tell the baby her papi had chosen her name. It provided a kind of proof that he loved her from the start, even though he was so far away. My concerns about mispronunciation and spelling errors, while valid, seem silly now that I’ve met the baby who was on the inside for so long. She was always meant to be Gaia. I’m sure of it.

CELONA (suh-LOE-nuh)

I fell in love with Barcelona the minute I stepped off the boat with Jose on our first overnight stay in the city. I walked around entranced with the energy of Las Ramblas, drinking “street beer” and listening to locals shout in lispy Spanish. It was our first official date, almost a year after we met. We spent two months exploring Barcelona every chance we got. Port Vell, the gothic quarter, Parc Guell, the Aquarium, La Sagrada Família, the marketplace and of course Las Ramblas, the place that started my love affair with the city – we loved it all. We spent our last night in Barcelona after a week apart, when the ship’s second overnight visit coincided with my European vacation. It was “street beer” and people watching again, but this time fate saw fit to bring us our baby girl. In my life story the night of her conception is among my favourite chapters.

Months later I was telling the story to my friend and Gaia’s eventual Godmother, Jaydeen. About a week later she emailed me this:

“OK, so I am reading a book and there is a character named Venice because that's where she was conceived. So I was thinking... Celona?”

I think it was a joke but frankly, I couldn’t have come up with anything more perfect.

We went Latin with her last name taking the paternal surnames from both sides (no hyphen thankyouverymuch) and saddling her with a double dose of unpronounceable fun (only seven syllables long). You’d be surprised how hard it is to try to explain to people that you, your husband and your baby all have different last names. Call me naive, but I thought it was pretty commonplace these days? Naming the baby was no easy feat but I’m more than satisfied with our choice. If nothing else I’m just glad we didn’t have a boy... if that was the case it’s likely the poor little guy still wouldn’t have a name.

PS. Here’s a pic of our little trio enjoying the sunshine this afternoon.

An Ode to My Bitches

I’m not going to lie, I got a little charge the day after my wedding when I changed my Facebook relationship status to ‘married’. It’s sad to say, but somehow, in a way that the vows didn’t manage, the public status change and resulting flood of wall posts made it all seem real. The truth is the majority of people I know Facebook creep to a shameful degree. I’m no scientist but I’d say a solid percentage of the population’s knowledge of their friends, coworkers, people you met at the bar (you get the picture) comes from sitting alone in front of a computer and obsessively browsing photos, status updates and wall posts. But I digress. The point is that there is one area where Facebook seems to be lacking.

This leads me to the bridesmaid. In the past I’ve seriously wondered about their value. What are they really but the bride’s handmaidens? Modern day slaves who shell out big cash and commit to months of oohing and ahhing and gushing over just how “special” everything is. Now, I’ve been a bridesmaid and yes, I was honoured, but it never occurred to me that not having bridesmaids at my wedding might someday strike me as a little unfortunate. If anything I thought my friends might feel relieved (and I’m sure some of them do). Here’s the thing though, until Facebook figures out how to appropriately honour those serious plutonic relationships that sustain us, parading down the aisle before the bride is like confirmation, to you and everyone else you know, that your relationship is serious. And you’ve got to admit, confirmation that you’re a long-haul friend and not some casual acquaintance shouldn’t be important… but it is. So, for denying the true loves of my life the quiet superiority afforded to the bridesmaids, I apologise. I know it’s not much, but please enjoy your moment in the sun.

Rachel Goldman – Rachel is my stereotypical Vancouverite friend. We shop in expensive stores, like expensive coffee and go to expensive events. She also happens to be incredibly strong and has seen me through some dark days (as I have her). I spent an entire summer just getting by lying on her couch and drinking Crystal Lite Slurpees. She’s considerate in ways you didn’t expect and has become a truly outstanding woman in the last few years (I don’t consider this sentence condescending because regardless of the fact she and sorority went through a shameful brake up, she will always be my little sister). Plus, she’s one of the only people who will actually go to all the arts events I try to drag everyone to and, shock-horror, I’m pretty sure she enjoys them. When she thinks nobody is looking she’s also pretty damn amusing.



Robin Seims – Yes, Robin and I dated. Lived together even. Hell, we share custody of a dog. Still, any romance that ever existed (did it ever exist?) has long since past into hazy memory to the point where I think both of us sometimes forget that dating was how we got so close in the first place. Robin drives me insane. He is forgetful, sloppy and almost brutish. On the upside he is also one of the most selfless and giving people I have ever known. There are whole years of my life that I can say with certainty I would not have made it through without him. Plus, I find him hilarious in ways only we understand and for someone who has seen me at my absolute worst, he puts up with me in ways I know no one else ever will. Oh and out of all my bridesmaids he’s the only one I might have considered putting in pink. For a pale dude, Roberge can really rock the pink.

Katy Short – Katy and I consider our “friendiversary” the night of Gamma Phi Beta formal in her first year when I forced myself into her bathroom stall and declared my love for her. Was she a bit freaked out? Probably. But somehow she’s managed to put up with me for the last six years. Katy is ridiculously neurotic, sensitive and awkward and I love every second of it. She’s as close to a husband as I ever thought I’d get, in fact, I secretly suspect her mother is not the only one who assumed on one occasion or another that we were carrying on a secret affair (could it be that we were “Facebook married” for well over two years?). She’s hilarious in ways I don’t think she understands and stronger then she will ever know. Even Robin, who knows me better then anyone, get freaked out by our friend language in inside jokes if he has to spend more then a few hours with us. She is one of the smartest and most capable people I have ever known, which might sound lame but is actually quite inspiring. Plus I’m pretty sure her Mom is my icon.

Jaydeen Williams – Jaydeen and I met at summer camp when I was 15. She somehow managed to balance vulgar and adorable in equal measures, which remains a huge part of her charm to this day (and of course made her my insta-role-model). She is, without question, the most thoughtful person I have ever known and I am constantly holding myself to the standards of friendship she sets. When I went to UBC in 2001 she took me under her wing and I consider her responsible for some of the best experiences I had there. In fact, if I really think of it, she had a part to play in everything exceptional in my life. I certainly never would have gone to work for Royal Caribbean without her. She has a sense of adventure that makes even me less boring and a way of always knowing the exact right thing to say.

Oldooz Zandiyeh – Oz is that girl who everyone loves. She’s been a bridesmaid more times then I can count and it’s easy to see why. She’s adorable to the point of being sickening, except you couldn’t possibly be sickened by anything she does. She’s funny and sweet and unbelievably genuine. She somehow manages to maintain close relationships with hundreds and yet always makes you feel like you’re the one she really loves best. Attached at the hip for my first year of university, Oz will forever be a part of my inner circle. You just don’t let girls like that go (you hear me men?).

So there you go. You were all there in spirit ladies (and Roberge).

Oh, but I’m still not sold on the whole maid-of-honour thing. It’s like choosing a favourite child. We all know you have one, but isn’t it just tacky to say it out loud?