Best Day Ever

After one hundred and fifty-one days apart I’m picking up my husband at the airport this afternoon. We have almost fourteen hours before he ships out (literally) to sail the Alaskan coast serving drinks to geriatrics. Fourteen hours to make up for one hundred and fifty-one days that included the birth of our baby girl and what seems like a lifetime spent chatting on Skype. Do I wish he was coming here for good? Of course. But today there’s nothing in the world that could make me as happy as those fourteen hours. As far as I'm concerned today is the best day ever. Seriously. Gaia’s excited too... obviously. As always she’s appropriately dressed for the occasion.


Like I said... BEST. DAY. EVER. Take it away Spongebob.



I’ve been singing this song all morning. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t one of my favourite songs of all time. I blame years spent working in childcare.

PS. Immigration Canada if you’re reading this please let Jose come here forever. Every second Monday is better than nothing but honestly, I want my husband please.

Baby On Board

In the list of things I love to do most travelling is close to the top. I don’t think there are many experiences more valuable than seeing the world. Of course I want Gaia to be intelligent and beautiful and kind, but most of all, I want her to travel. I want her to have a sense of adventure, a confidence in her independence and empathy that is deep rooted. I know that traveling is what brought those skills to life in me. There’s nothing like realising that there are landscapes dramatically unlike those you are used to and people whose experiences differ so greatly from yours. I want her to eat pizza with fresh buffalo mozzarella in Italy, to ride camels in Egypt, dance the night away at Carnivale in Rio, swim with the jellyfish in Palau, wander the Turkish market, visit every art gallery in New York and drive along the coast of South Africa. I want her to visit every place I’ve ever been and more and I want her to fall in love with them all.

They say every great adventure starts with single step. I helped Gaia take hers the day we applied for her Canadian passport. I felt like I was giving her a gift – the beginning of a lifetime of globetrotting at just two months old. Today we took step two as we boarded her very first flight. Sure it was domestic. Sure it was only two hours long. But it was a big deal. She immediately proved herself by facing a huge check-in line up with ease. She quietly hung from her carrier on my chest and sized up her fellow travellers. She brushed off the coos and tickles of strangers with polite indifference. She was on a mission. Security was a breeze once she charmed the surly guard searching her stroller. In the hour and half from the time when we got to the airport when we boarded she didn’t fuss once. As we slid into our seat I could see her survey the scene. The baby crying in the seat behind us was obviously not a kindred spirit. That much she could tell. When the flight attendant made me promise to hold her facing in against my chest for takeoff and landing I could see her balk but she took it all in stride. Obviously she has a sophisticated understanding of the fact that not all aspects of travel are pleasant. She silently looked out the window at takeoff every once in awhile glancing at the seatbelt sign to ensure I wasn’t sneaking extra cuddles. For the rest of the flight she bounced and giggled and laughed at all my jokes. She was the ultimate travel companion. She dozed straight through the landing, but woke up just in time to hear the accolades from our fellow adventurers.

“Wow,” they said “she did such a good job!”

“Thanks,” I replied, beaming with joy they probably misread, “she loves to travel.”

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.

Mommy Guilt

I admit it. I have a serious and prolonged case of ‘Mommy Guilt’. I feel guilty when I take Gaia out without a hat on. When she wakes up in the morning hours before I’m ready to get up I feel guilty for wishing she’d just go back to sleep. I feel guilty when I choose to make myself supper and let her to amuse herself in her swing, even though she’s usually laughing. I feel guilty when I wish for extra-long naps so I can have a few hours to clean. I feel guilty if she sits in poop for more than thirty seconds. I feel guilty if I don’t anticipate she’s about to get hungry/sleepy/playful and haven’t got a bottle/nap/structured play prepared. I feel guilty that I miss working. I feel guilty when I call her chubby, lest she get a baby complex. I feel guilty that I bounce her to sleep every night instead of arming her with the skills to fall asleep on her own. I stay up at night with guilty dreams of a co-dependent three-year-old dancing in my head. Sometimes I feel guilty for considering how well I would handle the guilt if I stopped bouncing her to sleep at night and let her cry-it-out. I feel guilty when I take her out and I feel guilty if we stay in. I feel guilty about the fact I have to use the bathroom and shower and sleep. I feel guilty about just about everything I do and I can’t help it. I especially feel guilty for feeling guilty because by all accounts there should be no room for guilt amongst all the joy. Still, my guilt knows no bounds. Why is my guilt topical you ask? I’ll tell you. After twelve-weeks as the happiest baby I’ve ever met, Gaia has spent the last three days in the worst baby mood I have yet to experience. Tonight my guilt came to a head as she screamed herself hoarse and I lay beside her crying and repeating “I’m sorry... I don’t know how to help you...I’m sorry...” When she stopped screaming and put her hand on my chest I felt guilty that she’d noticed my breakdown. Like a loyal dog who lays beside their dying owner, Gaia quietly laid beside me like that for twenty minutes and all I could do was feel guilty.

I pulled myself together eventually, as I always do, and got her lulled into a fitful sleep. Since then I’ve been doing some research on the internet and am starting to suspect she might be developing a milk allergy (which coincided nicely with what I think was her twelve-week growth spurt). She’s got the inconsistent, greenish poop, the sudden fussy and erratic behaviour and the small dry patches on her cheeks have turned into full-on scaly rashes. My guilt knows no bounds. Did I mention I had to diagnose this myself on the internet because there isn’t a single family doctor or paediatrician in Regina who is accepting new patients? Inevitably I feel guilty about living in a province with a shortage of doctors. Now I’m faced with the predicament of finding a lactose-free formula that isn’t iron fortified (since the iron has given her rock-hard poop in the past). From what I can tell this might be impossible. Of course this whole evening just has me sinking deeper into the thing that gives me the most ‘Mommy Guilt’ of all.

The ugly guilt-monger who’s taken up residence in my head keeps repeating “if Gaia was breastfeed we wouldn’t be having these problems.”

I knew absolutely nothing about infants when I got pregnant but I did know this... I was going to breastfeed. My breasts have always been on the smaller side of average. Never in a place to flaunt them for fun breastfeeding was going to be their moment in the sun. Sure they’d never draw eyes the way some breasts do, but they were going to feed a baby and frankly, that’s what they’re there for right? Gaia took to breastfeeding like a pro. She latched in mere seconds only minutes after being born. The nurse watched in awe, ready to jump in and fix the inevitable problems that never came. It seemed I was a pro as well, if I do say so myself. I never experienced a single pain, crack or blister. Even as we made our way from the hospital to home and Gaia began cluster feeding my breasts never complained. I was worn out and sleepy and achy but my breasts soldiered on. They were the heroes in our epic first days. Unfortunately about a week later my milk still hadn’t come in. Gaia was undeniably starving. I made an appointment with Regina’s own ‘Nipple Whisperer’ – the crème de la crème of lactation consultants. We were all confident she would have me lactating in no time. She took one look at Gaia at my breast and determined we had a good latch and adequate suction. Save for a few pointers on positioning (which did make me much more comfortable) she didn’t have much to say. She told me to ignore the Public Health Nurse and her insistence I begin supplementing and wait it out. She assured me my milk would be in by the following day. By this point Gaia had dropped over fifteen percent of her birth weight. I gave it a day and began supplementing with formula, offering each breast for a minimum of fifteen minutes before giving her two ounces of formula per feeding. Nipple confusion be damned, Gaia accepted both with ease. In the moments I had my hands free I pumped at least fifteen minutes per breast. For over two months Gaia took both breast and bottle. Her weight improved and she began thriving. My milk never came in. At one point I went to see a doctor who prescribed me a stomach acid drug whose side-effects included an increase in milk production. I can count on one hand the times I’ve agreed to take pills for anything in my adult life and I took pills for this. I was breastfeeding regularly (day and night), pumping a minimum of five times a day and taking two pills every four hours for almost a month. My milk never came in. Gaia was a trooper but it soon became apparent my breasts were more soothing device then sustenance. About three weeks ago I gave up entirely.

In the time I was struggling I read a number of books and articles on breastfeeding. All of which inevitably made me feel like if I formula fed exclusively I would end up with a lethargic, obese baby who, would have serious trust and attachment issues, drop out of high school and have a string of abusive relationships as she searched for the love she never got from her mother. The mother who didn’t love her enough to breastfeed her in the first place. And that was just if she didn’t die of SIDS. But as everything I read warned me, she probably would. Every mother has their cross to bear and breastfeeding is mine. The guilt damn near crushes me and I find myself soul-shatteringly jealous of every breastfeeding mother I know. I tried to tell myself there was a time (AKA: The 1970s & 80s) when formula was thought to be superior to breastmilk and we all turned out okay, but I remain unconvinced. After weeks of searching I finally found a website that assured me that my loving attention, and not just my breast was the most important thing I could give my baby. I turned a blind eye to the fact it was a website written by makers of a name brand formula. My breasts may be faulty but love, I feel confident I’ve mastered that.

On Saturday Gaia and I are flying to Vancouver. Of course, I feel guilty for going ahead with the trip when she’s obviously distressed. If I didn’t worry about the wife-guilt I’d feel over not going we’d probably forfeit our ticket. I know, I know. With all this guilt piling up around me you’d think I was Catholic, but no, I’m just a mother.

For those of you who know where I live please don’t worry. You don’t need to put me on post-partum-suicide watch or anything. I’m fine. Gaia’s fine. We’re going to be just fine. It’s just been a bad week. We’re strong, hearty, Saskatchewanese women and if nothing else we’re both due for a pretty serious family hug on Sunday. I can’t imagine any better cure for ‘Mommy Guilt’ then a hug from a man who tells you every day how lucky he feels to have found the perfect mother for the baby who means the world to him.

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If you’re having trouble breastfeeding there are a number of support systems available in the Regina area. To get started check out La Leche League Canada or call Linda Cheston (AKA: The ‘Nipple Whisperer’) at (306) 586-4930.

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.

Growing Pains

I’m pretty sure Gaia is smack-dab in the middle of her twelve-week growth spurt. She was wide awake and starving yesterday morning at 5:30am. She spent the rest of the day alternating between pathetic whimpers and full-blown screaming. Too tired to calm down enough to eat and too hungry to get any sleep. We went through countless half-drunk bottles and I managed to get her to sleep upwards of forty times only to have her wake up less than five minutes later. Of course I felt for her. Her little baby body stretching to make room for the next version of her baby self... Gaia 3.0. But I also felt for me. Exhausted and frustrated and becoming increasingly prone to fits of tears as the day wore on. While she suffered through her baby growing pains I was dealing with some serious Mama growing pains myself. Finally in the evening before I put her to bed, she stopped crying long enough to indulge me with over an hour of lounging lazily on my chest.

That smile... oh THAT SMILE and the way she looks at me. It’s worth a million or more sleepless nights and years made up of three hundred and sixty-five exhausting days.

Regina Famous

About a month ago my friend Carey Shaw photographed and interviewed me and Gaia for the CityLife section of the Prairie Dog, a local alternative news and entertainment magazine. The interview, as published, is below.
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WHO: Risa, Arts Educator and Baby Mama to newborn Gaia. WHERE: Home. CLOTHES: H&M Top, 13 Euro, bought in Barcelona, Spain ; Blue Jeans, $79, The Gap (Cornwall Centre). SHOES: Steve Madden Gold Flats, $50, bought in Miami, Florida. ACCESSORIES: Wedding Band, $15, from a shop in Peru; Silver Rings, one from the MacKenzie Art Gallery Shop (3475 Albert St.), the other from a street vendor in Barcelona; Nixon Watch, a gift from Mom. HAIR: Fidela at Studio 13 Salon and Day Spa (2937 13th Ave.).

Peru, Costa Rica, Mexico, Venezuela, Italy, Spain, Portugal, England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Bermuda, Caribbean Islands, and almost everywhere in North America. This long list proves that Risa definitely has a little bit of a travel bug inside her. Something passed down from her parents, perhaps – farmers from Rouleau who took the family on vacation for a few weeks every year. Start with a student exchange in England, add in working on cruise ships, sneak in an arts degree from Vancouver and Risa now has a Peruvian husband, is the new mother of a hermosa niña and sports a really big grin daily. Sounds like it all worked out.

Thinking about style in your travels, where has been the most inspiring?
I think going to England when I was 16 was really good for me, having grown up in a small town, because everyone has their own individual style. I definitely took that from being in England. Whatever you looked like was OK, and whatever you wanted to wear was great too. Lately I’ve fallen in love with Spain. In Barcelona the women take pride in the way they look, and that makes it such an interesting city.

Favourite thing you’ve picked up in your worldwide adventures?
Jose, my husband!

What in your life haven’t you done yet that you hope to do?
A lot of things. I think it is really important to have things in your life that you haven’t done but want to, because that’s what keeps your life interesting. I’ve done so many things for myself, and done so much travelling, that I’m pretty excited to have my daughter grow up and share experiences with her. I took every opportunity when it came. I don’t feel like I missed out on anything, so now I am excited to settle down and start my “grown up” life!

If you could hold on to something from your closet for Gaia to see what you were like when you were younger, what would it be?
When I was a teenager, I had this gigantic [hole-filled] t-shirt that had a roller skate on it. I thought it was so cool. I wore it all the time. So that, with my dad’s old work jeans, and skate shoes. When I was a teenager I thought I was Courtney Love. I wanted to be her. I don’t think I had any style but I guess that was they style. I had teeny short little bangs that were never even and really thin eyebrows. I thought I was just the coolest thing ever.

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What Carey doesn’t include is the fact Gaia screamed for the entire three hours she was at our house. I bounced Gaia on the exercise ball for the twenty minutes she interviewed me in an attempt to calm her for the photoshoot. The photo she eventually used was chosen simply because we felt Gaia’s screams could possibly be interpreted as squeals of joy as I lifted her into the air. Not to mention the fact her face is partially obscured because it’s in profile. In her brief history that day was the worst she’s had. Last week Carey sent me some of the photos that didn’t make the cut. Have a good look at Gaia’s face in all of them. That’s a baby that doesn't want to be photographed if I’ve ever seen one. Canada’s Next Top Model here we come I’ll let you know about baby number two?

After Carey left Gaia continued to cry for upwards of seven hours. She refused to eat and got alarmingly overtired. As her waking hours reached a consecutive sixteen I was reaching the end of my patience and tearfully at a loss as to how to help her. Suddenly Gaia let out a series of adult sized farts and pooped the most gigantic baby poop I have ever seen. She then promptly fell asleep.

Interview and all photos by Carey Shaw. Check her out at here.