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?

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.

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.)

Come Here Often?

Today while waiting with Gaia for a friend at a Starbucks the following exchange took place:

Moderately Attractive Man : Your baby is adorable.
Me : Thanks.
M.A.M : No really. She has your eyes. They are beautiful.
Me (looking away awkwardly) : Oh. Um. Thanks.
M.A.M : How old is she?
Me : Three and a half months.
M.A.M : Oh WOW. She’s only a few months old? You look great.
Me (still avoiding eye contact) : Oh. Um. Thanks.
M.A.M : So, um, Daddy’s at work?
Me : Yup.
M.A.M : And you and Daddy are...
Me : Married.
M.A.M : Alright then. Have a good afternoon.
Me : Will do.

I’m not sure what’s more shocking, the fact that there’s a man out there who trolls Starbucks looking for potential single mothers to scam on or the fact that apparently my no makeup, messy ponytail, wedding ring, baby spit-up on shoulder combo screamed “CHOOSE ME! HIT ON ME!”

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.

(Almost) Everything That Didn't Fit On Facebook

Like too many people I know I spend a large portion of my day pondering how to turn my daily experiences into interesting Facebook status updates. This is sad. I know. This is also why I refuse to join Twitter. I’m positive it would become all consuming. This morning I had so much going on in my head I had trouble nailing down just one status update. These were the frontrunners.

Risa is scraping little pieces of her heart from the ceiling… it exploded over how amazing Jose and Gaia were together…

Risa is pretty sure she has the most adaptable baby ever… in the last forty-eight hours she’s been on a plane, met a never ending supply of strangers, waited at the airport for a flight delayed for over an hour, met her father and fallen asleep in no fewer then eight locations (naps included)… and she didn’t break down once…

Risa is surrounded by a consumer’s utopia… the super stylish urban shopper in me is in heaven… the hippy-dippy, crazy broke, brand new mama in me is silently weeping…

Risa is drinking Inca Kola and watching 'Monstruos vs Aliens' en español... toxic yellow pop and pirated DVDs... I missed you Peru...

Risa just realized last night was a full moon… her mother says this is when all the crazies come out… her father-in-law claims amorous adventures under a full moon are how he ended up with four sons… we didn’t come across any crazies last night and somebody’s got to be right…

In other news yesterday was perfection beyond words. Still, I’ll try to put in into words soon. For now I’m exhausted and drunk with memories and planning on crawling into bed with Gaia for a nap.

This is My Brain on Exhaustion

Apparently Gaia’s still growing. As a result I’m too tired to pee much less write a fully formed blog post. Instead I’ll leave you with this...

0-6 Months My Ass!

If anyone knows where to get a baby sun hat that meets the following criteria please let me know:

a) Does not include design elements such as flowers, happy faces, butterflies, bows, ruffles or lace.
b) Is not pink. Well definitely not baby pink, but frankly Gaia’s not into wearing pink’s rebel cousin fuchsia either. At least not on her head.
c) Is not more commonly seen on Little House on the Prairie (curse you bonnet... and all your frilly friends too).
d) Is not a ridiculous (if adorable) designer baby hat that costs thirty dollars or more. And yes, I have seen a number of these hats around the city.
e) Is actually made to fit a baby head. And not just those humongous baby heads (you know who you are) but an average three-month-old head. You would think there would be a size between teeny newborn and gigantic toddler... no?

Until then I’m that bad mother who takes my baby for daily walks in the sun hatless. I know. I should be shot on site.

Speaking of pee (and I was... just up there at the top). I love asparagus. It’s one of the only vegetables I choose to eat. I think I love it mainly because it’s like a wacky science experiment. You eat it for dinner and the smell of your evening pee leaves you initially puzzled until you realise the culprit. Oh asparagus... you got me again! I had asparagus for dinner the other night and finally took the time to learn just why it makes your pee stinky. Enjoy.

WHY DOES YOUR PEE SMELL WHEN YOU EAT ASPARAGUS?
Asparagus contains a sulfur compound called mercaptan. It is also found in onions, garlic, rotten eggs, and in the secretions of skunks. The signature smell occurs when this substance is broken down in your digestive system. Not all people have the gene for the enzyme that breaks down mercaptan, so some of you can eat all the asparagus you want without stinking up the place. One study published in the British Journal of Clinical Pharmacology found that only 46 percent of British people tested produced the odour while 100 percent of French people tested did. Insert your favourite French joke here______________.

From Why Do Men Have Nipples? Hundreds of Questions You’d Only Ask a Doctor After Your Third Martini by Mark Leyner and Billy Goldberg, MD, specific excerpt found here.

Speaking of Google (which I wasn’t directly although how else do you think I found the information above). What did people do before the internet? Seriously. I know I don’t have a book on asparagus pee in my house. Do you?

With that I really should go to bed. This is getting a little ridiculous. And yes. I’m aware it’s not even 9:00pm.

Actual Conversation

For those of who wonder what Jose and I talk about for two hours a day on Skype...

Me – Gaia and I went for a two hour walk this morning. It’s so nice outside baby... like 24 degrees.
Jose – Wow!
Me – I know! I had to cover Gaia head to toe in sunscreen just to sit in the stroller.
Jose – Baby? Is she very white?
Me – Yes baby, about the same colour as me or maybe a little lighter.
Jose – I was looking at the pictures of you both and she looked like a beautiful chubby vanilla ice cream.

Now you know.

Teen Mom

Today I was getting diapers at Superstore when I was approached by a woman with a clipboard. “Excuse me,” she said “I’m sorry to bother you but would you mind answering a few questions about your experience as a teenage Mom?”

That’s what I get for bringing back a hairstyle I abandoned shortly after my high school graduation.

Me at 18 - Not a Teenage Mom

Me at 27 - Still Not a Teenage Mom

Buddha Belly

Last night while I was waiting for my Chinese takeout a toddler cautiously approached me while her mother paid their bill. After staring at me for a solid minute she giggled, pointed at my belly and then waddled over to the Buddha statue in the corner and pointed to his. Anonymous toddler 1, Risa 0.