Beaches' Speeches

Lullaby

2012-01-27T14:06:00.000-05:00

I think there is no more fitting example of what life is like as a working parent than the fact that it has taken me three full years to produce and publish the movie you'll see below.

I started it just after Bella's first birthday and I set what I thought at the time was a ridiculously generous goal for myself; to have it completed by the time she turned two. I thought it would be a nice, sweet gift to her (and me) and we could snuggle up together and watch it and marvel at just how much she, we, had grown and changed in just one year.

On Monday my baby, the one that you'll watch transform from tiny blob to pretty babe in the movie below, is going to turn four years old.

Four.

I've always said that at four I would stop taking her 'white chair' birthday photos that I took once per month for her first two years and then every six months after that. When I made the decision that four years would be long enough I honestly believed we had an eternity until then.

But I blinked and here we are.

Once we take her final pictures I want to make a movie showing all the chair shots in sequence from first to last and today when I went to source out some of the early photos I came across an unfinished movie from her first year. It was almost done, so close, yet somehow I never found the spare, quiet moments I required to give it the finishing touches.

Until today. Home sick with Bella, laptop with me on the couch, I finally got the chance. It's not perfect and you'll have to forgive my singing at the end, but it's done.

She and I had our moment together this morning, snuggled up and watching it after all. I cried a lot and indeed I marveled at how much she, we, have both grown and changed.

Music Credit: Lullaby; The Dixie Chicks

This weekend Bella and I will shoot her last chair photos. I hope it won't be another four years before I can put together the complete sequence. But I'm not holding myself to any goals this time. Because it all happens. Like it or not, it all just keeps on happening.

PS. The song this video is set to was played at the end of every single prenatal yoga class I went to while I was pregnant with Bella. To this day I can't hear it without being flooded by the memories of what it felt like to lie still in that dark room, holding my growing belly and dreaming about the days to come. Four years of those days have passed already but I'm still dreaming. And I still love this song.

And So This Is (Was) Christmas

2012-01-02T16:20:00.000-05:00

I've been describing 2011 as a worthy adversary. Every one of the incredible highs that my family and I experienced this year was met and matched with a difficult low. We were challenged on just about every level in 2011. Emotionally, physically, financially.

I can't say I've ever lived a year that hasn't been a mix of ups and downs. That's just the nature of this life, isn't it? But in 2011 the lows were just a little lower, the tears came from slightly deeper in the soul. Then again the laughs? They came from a little deeper in the belly. Sighs of relief were breathed a little louder. Hugs were held a little longer, a little tighter. Because you know what? For every time I was knocked down, I managed to get up again. Stronger somehow with the knowledge of just how much we can survive, my awesome family and I.

We closed out the year with a month of celebrating. The Christmas season arrived with its fair share of the usual holiday stresses but our home was full of joy. Even the last few days of the year, spent shut in and nursing my beautiful girl through a terrible illness, were warm and lovely and safe. We hunkered down, snuggled in and plowed through it together, all the while reminded again and again just how lucky, how blessed, we really are.

Yes, a worthy adversary indeed, 2011. I believe we'll call it a draw.

Here are the snapshots from Christmas 2011, a fitting celebration to end this wild ride of a year. It was the perfect way to say farewell, to clear the palate and move forward with eyes and hearts open wide, ready to take on whatever may come in 2012.

These two handsome creatures lived on my mantle and made me smile every day.

Also on the mantle, how jolly is this little trio?

Put a berry on it.

Nobody loved our tree this year more than Moet.


Even the doorknobs were in on the festivities.

Presents!

More presents!

Snuggles!

More snuggles!

Feasting continues on boxing day - our first Christmas dinner in the new house.

Beautiful even after being horribly sick for five straight days. We spent our last day of 2011 hunkered down at the hospital.

But this one's got a fighter's spirit like the rest of us. Bounced back enough to enjoy tacos and giggles on NYE.

Happy New Year from me and mine to all of you and yours.

Not Our Official Christmas Card

2011-12-20T17:23:00.002-05:00

But too hilarious not to share. Snapped at my company Children's Christmas party. Amazing.

The whole family gets in on the Santa action because otherwise the kid was not having it.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas Card Rejects

2011-12-17T18:39:00.000-05:00

I'm not quite sure how I managed to rope myself into this put-a-picture-of-your-kid-on-a-Christmas-card thing, but let me just say that this is our fourth Christmas with Bella in our lives and on our cards and I'm in deep.

This picture is a reject but still pretty darn cute.

I'm obsessively compelled to make these cards and get them printed, signed and delivered in time. But it's even worse than all that because since the first card featured her in a cute winter hat, now they all have to involve her in a cute winter hat. Why you ask? Because I am an insane person.

I start panicking about the hat itself sometime around September, as soon as the winter hats start to hit the shelves. All hat options have to be seen, touched, compared and thought about before I can make a choice. Then Bella herself has to pre-approve the selection because Lord knows if she doesn't like the hat, there will be no picture taken. FACT.

The taking of photo haunts me for months until I finally land a day that seems sunny enough coupled with a moment where Bella is happy and willing. Last year she refused to smile at all between early October and mid-December, so the card, while still very cute, was rather on the glum side.

This year I got lucky. I managed to have a semi-free morning on a semi-nice day with a sort of happy kid. I think our card this year totally reflects this perfect storm of coincidences. But I'm not going to lie. We had to take a lot of photos to get the three that ended up on the card. A. Lot. Of. Photos.

Would hate to see these Christmas card rejects, each so funny and adorable in their own way, go to waste. And so, voila! I present you with my favourite selection of this year's unselected.

There's always that moment in the shoot when things get a little bit sad.

Thought we might go artsy this year. Yeah, no. Not quite card material.

There's always that moment in the shoot when she gets crazy eyes.

I wish this was real but full disclosure: a staged picking.

This, however, was real.

Taking the Christmas card photos is serious business.

Mom gets in on the action.

All I want for Christmas is a set of lashes exactly like hers.

Finally, with the photos in the bag, we all deserve a sweet reward.

The 2011 card is officially in distribution. If you're reading this, you're probably getting one. But if not, we wish you the very merriest of holiday seasons and all the love, joy and belly-laughs you can handle in 2012.

Summertime

2011-11-11T12:30:00.001-05:00

I was just outside in the backyard, sweeping and bagging leaves, when I heard the children in the schoolyard next door shriek with pure excitement and joy, "Look! Snow!"

I thought they must be crazy, I was warm from working, hot even, but sure enough I raised my face to the sky just in time to see the dusting of white flakes before they dissolved into icy water droplets and disappeared before my eyes. For a moment I was completely caught up in the contagious energy of the kids and I smiled. Just as quickly as the snowdrops melted, so too did my excitement. Winter.

I've always been a summer girl. It's by and far my favourite season. I thrive on the heat, the sunshine, the thunderstorms. We all know I love the beach, the long, lazy days that humid Toronto summers allow us to indulge ourselves in. I know there are people who love winter for almost the same reason - the excuse to huddle up and stay indoors, watching the weather bluster and blow through the window as you lounge under blankets with hot cocoa and good book. I get it. But still, summer is my season.

I haven't posted about this summer here yet. Unusual for me, since I'm usually so quick to share my most magical moments: my daughter running naked on the beach, kicking back with best friends and family, enjoying cold beverages on the lawn. This summer was no exception, it had all of those moments, each special and worth sharing, and seeing as today is Remembrance Day, 11/11/11, I figure, what better time to remember?

This summer was the best of times. It was also the worst.

I found out I was pregnant in early July. It was not expected exactly but not entirely shocking either. Whatever it was, it was wonderful. I was ready. It's not my place to speak for Cairn here and I won't, but I will dare to say that we were ready. Finally feeling settled into the new house and with many months ahead to take care of anything else that needed doing, a March due date was just perfect. Bella would be four years old (!) and off to Kindergarten in September. I'd keep her home with me part time in the summer, maybe. By the the time summer arrived, I'd have a four month old and a four year old - imagine? I'd spend extra time at the cottage with the kids.

The kids. I've always thought there would be two.

I drifted in a happy daze through the first summer month. Just thrilled really. Bursting inside with my secret. Happy at work and at home in a way that I hadn't been quite a while. It had been a trying year, with all the house stuff and changes at the office. Exciting, but stressful. And finally I was calm and settled in. I started planning how I'd tell Bella the news. She was asking for a baby brother or sister a lot at that time. She still is. I was already choosing names and decorating rooms in my head even though as every newly pregnant woman is aware, particularly those at my age, it was too early to be doing all those things. But as we also know, the love for a child does not start on the day they are born. It starts the moment you discover your secret. It's a special, intense love that only a mother can feel.

I miscarried naturally at home on August 1. Exactly one week after I'd started spotting. The longest week of my life. I was almost nine weeks along and had known about my pregnancy for four weeks. Four weeks is a long time when you're dreaming up a life for a child.

I'm not trying to be melodramatic and some might wonder why I'm choosing to share this now and in this way. It's difficult to tell people this in person. Awkward for them, because they struggle to find the right words to say, when really there aren't any. Awkward for me because I want to gloss over it and be quick to assure then that "I'm okay, it wasn't the right time, we'll all be fine!" I'm also sharing because because I don't want to hide this thing that happened to me, to us, behind closed doors. I've read many, many brave and inspiring stories from other women since this happened. I know I'm not alone with this grief. I want to join their ranks. To let other women know that it's okay to be angry and confused and devastated by the loss of a pregnancy. But also that it does not define you, it does not destroy you and you should not be ashamed.

I'm not ashamed. But I've had moments of huge guilt. Moments of panic that this will happen again and again. Moments of utter, heart-wrenching sadness. Those painful moments hit me less and less as the summer days drifted into fall, and even less now as fall drifts into winter. And between those awful moments have been many, many moments of pure joy. The joy of summer that I dream about all winter long.

That's what I choose to share from this summer past. And so here I celebrate with snapshots of summer 2011 - a bittersweet one but a sweet one none-the-less.

Tiny Dancer: The Bonus Footage

2011-10-16T16:17:00.002-05:00

Bella loves her Saturday morning dance class, but her favourite part of the ritual by far doesn't happen until her class ends. She bursts from the studio, flushed and smiling, proudly showing me the stickers she's earned, then takes off at a run to the end of the hall where a ladies aerobics class is just getting underway. She stands just back from the doorway and stares with eyes wide, mouth agape, at the women as they grapevine and high-kick themselves into shape. And she's totally and utterly riveted. Before long she's moving and shaking right along with the work-outs. And. It's. The. Cutest. Thing. Ever. FACT.

This is a video I caught during the first time she ever watched the class, she'd never seen aerobics before so she was mesmerized by the music and movement. She's gotten quite good at the moves now so me thinks an updated version is in order. Karen Kain she may not be, but Jane Fonda? I think perhaps yes.

Tiny Dancer

2011-10-16T16:04:00.003-05:00

Top 40 (before 40): #18 - Put Bella in Ballet classes (to see if she likes it) - Check!

Giving me a giddy grin just before her first ever class.

It was March when I enrolled Bella in her first dance class. Creative Movement and Dance is run through the City of Toronto and it's a precursor to Beginner Ballet which, at our community center, doesn't accept kids under 4 years old.

Feeling special after surviving her first class.

I decided to go with city classes for her first time because I was skeptical that she would even participate given how shy she can be and I was not about to drop hundreds of dollars on private dance classes if she was going to refuse to enter the studio and instead cling desperately to my legs the entire time.

Warming up at Nana's before class.

To my surprise and delight my worries were unfounded and Bella left me in the hall and ran into her very first class without so much as a backwards glance. It was one of those moments I like to call happysad. She danced there all spring and then we took the summer off because the class was not offered at our center. We have just started classes up again for fall and will continue right through until spring, when if interested, she'll be eligible to start the 'real' ballet.

Mary McCormick Community Center dance studio - charming and full of light.

I am completely impressed with the studio, the teachers and the excitement Bella has for this class and I can't think of any reason not to continue with the city-run classes, until Bella outgrows them or decides that she's really serious about ballet or dancing. For now, this is exactly her speed and mine.

At her first recital.

Bella is not the most active child. She's content to sit quietly for hours playing with her toys, books, arts and crafts. Or she'll get lost in her own head inventing worlds for her stuffed animals and dolls - taking them on a train, to the beach and now sometimes to her imaginary dance studio. She's also completely obsessed with TV. OH TV YOU ARE A BLESSING AND A CURSE. She will always ask for TV before anything else. I'm not against it and do allow her to watch when I think unwinding is called for or a lazy morning is in order but her predisposition to vegging means we have to play a big role in making sure she has other activities and pastimes available to her.

I am determined to maintain a Saturday morning activity that ensures we all wake up and get out of the house before the glowing box presents her with even a whisper of an option. Swimming didn't work out so well when I took her last fall, not because she didn't like it but because I didn't like it. At her age a parent needs to get in the pool and I hated going in the pool. I already KNOW how to swim, thankyouverymuch. And so we (I) chose dance.

Waiting for her turn.

One reason I want her to dance is because it's at once creative, cerebral and athletic, but in a non-competitive way. At least not at this stage. Though she doesn't exactly show signs of being the next Karen Kain, she's not a complete bull in a China shop either. She watches the teacher and emulates as best she can. And she absolutely shines with pride later when she shyly shows off her new moves to friends and family at home.

Mimicking her teacher and exploding my heart into shrapnel of happiness.

The other reason I want her to dance? Because it's one of those things that I have always wished I was good at. I look at graceful, strong dancer-types and wish that I had the genetics, the training, the what-ever-it-is that allows a dancer to move with precise control and utter abandon at the same time. I never had the drive or desire to pursue it when I was young, and now I look at my daughter and think, maybe she will? Or maybe not and that's totally okay. Because for now I can sit back and simply absorb the utter joy I get from seeing every tutu, every twirl, every hokey pokey.

Name me a mother of a daughter who can witness this without melting.

Happy Birthday to You: Three and a Half

2011-07-29T19:44:00.001-05:00

Dear Anabella,

Tomorrow you will be three and a half years old.

Trying to figure out three and a half on your fingers.

We had our bi-annual chair shoot today, one day early, just after waking up from a long nap together in my bed. It was by far the highlight of my day, my week; the first time I laughed this week and actually felt it in my heart.

Rolling your eyes at my cheesiness.

This was our first shoot in the new house. Up in the sweet little room on the third floor, the one that houses your chair, a few boxes, and a big TV. It was bitter sweet to take these photos and not be in your old nursery. I love our new house, but I miss your old room, mostly because of what it symbolizes. My baby. My first baby. Just look at you now, all grown into your preschooler deliciousness.

Three and a half going on 13.

I don't have much to say about three and a half except that the amount you have changed and grown in the last six months is infinite. I couldn't possibly capture you in words but I think our photos today are worth a thousand.

You swing wildly these days, my girl. Your temper is fast and fierce. Some days it's like living with a tiny dictator. "GET! ME! MY! MILK! AND! SHOW!" is the first thing out of your mouth after daycare. And you mean NOW. Other times you are so loving, kind, heartbreakingly empathetic. Little kids shouldn't be so aware of the suffering of others. You can detect the faintest sadness. There is very little that you miss.

Here you are, feeling something deeply. Probably the fact that you can't have your MILK AND SHOW.

Your language is remarkable. I know I always mention it here, but you really do speak as clearly and articulately as a full grown human. Sometimes it makes communicating difficult, believe it or not, because I forget that you are three and half. You don't sound like three and half. I forget that while your language is there your comprehension is not always at the same level. Sometimes you dumb down your words, just so I'll remember that you're little.

And then sometimes you naturally make a mistake with your words. And those are the most delightful moments. My favourite misspoken phrase recently is when you tried to say, "Oh my gosh!" But instead it came out, "Hey my goshes!" I will remember that for the rest of my life. Oh my gosh will never be the same.

You're beautiful in every way. And I know that emphasizing beauty is a dangerous message for a little girl. Lately you're becoming very aware of gender roles and divisions. Differences, real or invented, between little boys and girls, between women and men. I've tried to protect you from these unfair discrepancies but if there's one thing parenthood has taught me, it's that no matter how hard we try there are many things we can't protect our children from. So I hope that you'll embrace your beauty and always recognize that as cliche as it may sound it is from within. And you've got it girl. You've got it in every way.

Hangin' out, being gorgeous. And smart.

You really are my sunshine, sweet girl. My happiness when it is grey. You'll never know, Bella, how much I love you. You'll never know. Until you have a baby of your own.

Hey my goshes, I love you!

Mommy

Nine

2011-06-25T12:12:00.001-05:00

Wishing a very happy ninth birthday to my charming, quirky, irksome, funny, handsome, loving, stinky, hilarious, beautiful fur baby.

Momes, we never take for granted that each passing year with you is a special gift and I hope with all my heart that you're around to wake us up with your incessant barking for many more years to come.

Just yesterday a lady on the street asked me if you were a puppy. She wouldn't believe me when I told her you were nine. And it's true, even though you've just reached the ripe old age of 63 people years, I swear you don't look a single day over 50. Well, except for that ever-so-dignified white beard.

Thanks Lil' Boss, for loving us no matter what, and for for being so patient and lovely with your human sister, even though she swept in and stole the spotlight from you in just about every way. She loves you more than ice cream. So do I.

Happy Birthday my wonderful Momo! I love you,

Mommy

The Gambler(s)

2011-05-09T21:15:00.003-05:00

Motherhood is nothing if not a gamble. From the moment of conception you are betting every last emotion on the outcome. Betting on an easy pregnancy and a healthy baby. Betting that this most complex, life-changing adventure will bring you riches worthy of all the sacrifice and struggle.

Indeed in my experience it has been the greatest gamble I have ever made, but also the most astounding win. But then I'm a betting woman. I come by it honestly, from generations of women who have made this same bet and won.

And so it is fitting that our family tradition is to celebrate Mother's Day at the racetrack. Surrounded by all the people that make me a most fortunate winner.

This year we were soaked in sunshine and clutching our paper tickets as we cheered and jumped up and down, inhibitions laid wayside by the sheer excitement of the race.

Little paper tickets that represent dreams, and it's not such a reach to compare them to all the dreams that as a mom you clutch close to your heart as you cheer your children on through their journey. Sometimes those dreams will be realized, and just as often they will not. But the excitement of what's to come around the next bend is always there, and it's always thrilling.

This year as the glorious creatures came thundering towards the finish line, I looked at my mother, my sister, my glorious little girl, and was easy to see how fortunate I am.

Regardless of which beautiful animal crossed that finish line by a nose -- of whether my paper ticket ended up cashed in or crumpled and tossed in a heap on our table laden with food, drink and love -- I have hit the jackpot. I could not ask for more.

Oh, Mexico

2011-04-12T18:04:00.023-05:00

Way down here, you need a reason to move
Feel a fool running your stateside games
Lose your load, leave your mind behind, Baby James

Oh, Mexico
It sounds so simple I just to go
The suns so hot I forgot to go home
Guess I'll have to go now

- James Taylor; because I can't say it any better myself.

And after that brief musical interlude (one of my favourite songs, by one of my favourite songsters), I give you the photos that will make you want to take your babies Mexico. Like. Right. Fucking. Now.

On the plane:

On the beach:

Early morning:

After dinner strolls in beautiful Playa del Carmen:

Posing with Dad:

Morning pastry run with Auntie Sue and Baby Greta:

My tiny tourist:

Beach breakfast!

Hi, lashes:

Beach naps are best:

The beach, again for good measure:

I'll House You

2011-03-20T08:17:00.026-05:00

We've been renovating our new house since January 15. Demolition started exactly one day after we took possession. For three weeks, as the walls and ceilings came down and the floor came up, we lived somewhat unaffected in our condo. But on February 4, we said good-bye to our first little home, packed all of our belongings into the basement of the new house, by that time just a dusty ramshackle skeleton of the house we'd bought, and moved to my parents house, where we've been ever since.

It's now been almost nine weeks since the renovations at the new house began. The changes are remarkable and I'm anxious to document them all here, but it's been difficult to photograph very often or very well because the place is such a mess, so many tools and buckets of debris and Tim Horton's cups. I could have rolled up about 25 rims when I popped in yesterday if I'd had the time. Of course I would have won exactly nothing.

I think the best way to document what we've done will be to do room-by-room posts once everything is finished. Problem with that is, well, let's just say it's going to be a while. So, in the meantime I thought I'd just do a quick run down of some of the areas we're tackling, with some photos of the very early stages of the demo (keep in mind this was eight weeks ago). You can see some pictures of the house as it was when we bought it, here.

1. We removed all the floors, ceilings and trim on the first and second floors of the house. This is the dining room, living room view.

2. We ripped up the existing entryway tile and are adding a door and transom window to close off this space and create a proper vestibule.

3. Here's the main floor staircase. This is getting a total overhaul. The wall that closes it off from the dining room is coming down, the treads and risers are being replaced. The railing is being completely rebuilt and we're adding a beautiful salvaged newel post, found on Craig's List for $55! Holla! Of course, whole thing will need to be painted and stained. Actually, whole house will need to be painted and stained.

4. Here's a shot of the wall that's being removed from beside the main stairs. This is taken from in the dining room.

5. And again, in the dining room, wall coming down, see that arch over the kitchen doorway? GONE. We're squaring it off, along with a second arch that you can't see here, over the doorway to the basement. All getting trimmed out and painted.

6. Fireplace (doesn't work, one day we'll refurbish) is getting new tiles in front and painted. Possibly a new mantel to replace that lovely concrete slab (budget depending, not looking good). See those shovels? Yeah, used to shovel the debris and dirt out of the house after the demo.

7. Up on the second floor, at the back of the house, was a strange little half-kitchen. Here it's well on it's way to becoming a proper room (secret: this is now one of my very favourite rooms in the house, just wait til you see how CUTE it's turned out!).

8. The second floor hallway, ceilings, floors, trim removed. All getting replaced and painted. Also rebuilding that railing, but keeping the original newel post you can see here. Should also mention that the entire house is being rewired. We removed every single light-fixture in the place. We may be living with bare bulbs until budget allows us to buy proper lighting.

9. Master bedroom. We are fixing the wall shown here so that it is flush with the chimney bump-out you can see. The closet opening on the left is getting sealed and will instead open up into Bella's room next door. We're having wall to wall closets installed on the wall you can't see.

10. Bella's room. Here you can see the opening that used to be the closet in our room. It will be an open space for built-in shelves. Her existing closet will be all finished up nicely with drywall and trim (secret: I saw this room almost totally finished yesterday OMG I DIE, I DIIIIEEEE.)

11. Stairs up to the third floor will be trimmed and painted. We're not doing any major work up there at this time because it's on the list for a future (deep future) total overhaul, but the whole floor will be painted and that alone will make a hell of a difference.

I think that covered the major renos for now. We'll also be giving the kitchen and bathrooms cosmetic updates, but no major changes at this time. They are also on the future list... my mind is churning with possibilities all the time. My pocket book just can't quite keep up.

All You Need is Love

2011-02-14T10:27:00.004-05:00

Happy Birthday To You: Three Years Old

2011-02-09T20:08:00.014-05:00

Dear Anabella,

On January 30, you turned three years old.

So far the threes have been both absolutely delightful and utterly exasperating at the same time. This birthday I can definitively say that you are no longer a baby. You just aren't. When I see you now, when I hear you, it's little girl through and through. A sweet little girl, who wants what she wants when she wants it. Which is usually RIGHT NOW.

You are whip smart. You are incredibly beautiful. You are kind. You are funny. You are so loving. The most loving child in the world when you want to be. You love Moet. And you love all your family and friends. I hope that you know how much we all love you too. How much it means to Nana, to Papa, to Grandma, to Auntie Charla, to Uncle Phil, when you run to them, or squeal in delight when they show up. How I can see Carter's eyes light up when you arrive at daycare in the morning. How swollen with joy my heart is - swollen to bursting - when I see you run and play with your Auntie Emily and the lovely LouLou.

But most of all, I hope you know how special you are. How unique. How lucky.

We're at a busy, busy time in our lives right now, and I know there's been a lot of change. More still to come but I have to say you are handling it like an absolute champion. I'm so grateful and relieved that you are a flexible child in this way. My promise to you is - it will all be so worth it.

Happy birthday my beautiful Bella. I hope you will love the home we bought you. We've really got our work cut out for us, topping THAT gift next year. It might need to be a pony.

I love you,

Mommy

It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday

2011-01-31T17:06:00.042-05:00

It's not like I didn't ask for this. Want this. I wanted it badly. So badly in fact that I shed more than my fair share of tears during the time that we were looking and looking and not finding what it is that we were looking for.

Isn't that always the way? You search high and low for the next big thing, only to realize in the end just how much you already have. Well, it's that way for me this week. This week we will pack up the little, comfortable life that we have built in our first home. Our 1100 square foot home which was starting to feel too crowded with things, overwhelmed by the new life we added into it and nurtured and grew over the last three years. Our little home tried its best to keep up with us, to contain us, and it did its job for as long as it could.

It forced us to be close to each other. Some days closer that we wanted to be. It forced us to be efficient with our things, our routines, our emotions even. There certainly was nowhere to hide. Not from clutter, not from neighbours, certainly not from each other.

And so while we are all more than ready to move on, and we all know that it's the right time, the perfect time, now that our move is eminent I'm taking stock of our first little home. I'm looking around at the nicks in the hardwood and the cracks in the walls. The little stains on the carpet - from coffee during our morning rush and dog puke and baby pee. I'm looking at all the little things that have been maddening for me as my desire to move on grew stronger, and this week I'm thankful for all of them. These little signs of life. Little reminders that this was not just a house. It was our home.

I'm thankful for this little home, for the memories that she holds. Our first house together - a purchase that was one of the most exciting, thrilling things that I have ever done. Our first house as a married couple. The only home our daughter has ever known.

Leading up to this week it's been relatively easy for me to lose myself in the administration and organization required to search for, buy and sell a home. The paperwork, the budgeting, faxing and lawyers. The renovation planning, materials selection. Items that must be written down and ticked off one by one, just to make such big transactions possible.

Then the packing began and the job (not finished, btw) is massive, even with our well-edited (read: obsessive compulsively organized) space. These things were enough to keep me busy, to allow me to avoid facing the other impact of moving from the place we've called home for the last six years. The emotional impact.

And hoo-boy. If you know me, you know I like me some emotion. And now it's time. To take a few moments, a little trip down memory lane. I know it will be a weepy journey, but also a cathartic one. It's time to say goodbye to this place that we built, the two of us - then the three of us - into a safe, comfortable, loving, happy home.

Here she is in her infancy. What would become the main living floor - living and dining areas. There was something very special about buying a house from the plans. The excitement of watching it take shape, literally build up out of a hole in the ground. The feeling from the very start that it really was all yours.

Crown had to sneak in to take these pictures. I vividly remember waiting on the ground, keeping watch while he climbed around inside. I was nervous, worrying as always, that we'd get caught, but it was worth the worry to see these photos after. Our first glimpse of the house that we had worked so hard for.

The first time we laid eyes on our finished home was a fun day. We'd waited patiently for many months and I remember feeling anxious and giddy the week leading up to our first inspection. But it was love at first sight. The gleaming new floors and stark white walls spoke of possibility. A blank slate on which we could add our own mark.

Oh, how shiny you were. Gleaming and sparkling and new. I adored the newness and the knowledge that we'd be the first to do everything in here. I still love that about this house to this day. All of its marks and scars are our marks and scars. Our life wore her in.

Workin' those booties. Striking a pose.

The front hall. This has been the bane of my existence since the day we moved in. It's long and narrow and good for nothing. I have had it on my list to tackle with an overhaul for years, but since Bella arrived and with her a selection of strollers and a considerable reduction in both funds and free time, it has remained nothing more than an unkempt utility space. And not a very efficient one, at that.

My memories around the front hall are mostly sulky. Arriving home after a long day, a frustrating commute in the middle of winter, bitterly cold and heavily pregnant. Barely making it in the door before sitting on the stairs in a puddle of tears and frustration. Dismayed that somehow I'd gotten too huge to navigate this crowded, narrow, messy little space. I wish I could say I fit better down there today, but the truth is I just don't.

As we move up in the house, my memories grow much fonder. Our "dining room" can hardly be called a room at all, but we shared countless dinners with family, with friends, with each other. There have been more tears shed, laughter shared, conversations held at that little glass table than I can hope to recall. We searched high and low for our beloved vintage buffet and just like all things that are meant to be, when we first saw it, we knew it was the one. I still think it will never be as perfect as it is on that wall, right there.

Hard to believe that anything was ever accomplished in that tiny little kitchen, but many a delicious meal was prepared by Crown and enjoyed by us all. I cooked all of Bella's baby food from scratch in that little kitchen. My baby playing happily on the floor. The smell of cooking apples will forever take me right back here.

As I write this I'm staring at this exact view, except all the life has been stripped away. The contrast of what I see in this photo is remarkable. In this photo I see our life. If that couch could talk. Hours and hours spent on that couch. I laboured through the night on that couch for five hours before realizing that I need to go to the hospital. That my baby was on her way. Then I lay with her wrapped up together in the wee hours, while the rest of the world slept, and I dreamed of our future, of her future. And sometimes in those dreams I saw us in a new house. And now, those dreams, imagined on that couch, are coming true.

And this? Well this is where the magic happens. Heh. For real though? What can I say? My daughter was conceived in this room and that alone makes it special. But in the years before there was any hint of Bella, my best times were always spent tucked up in that bed. Weekend mornings with the paper and hot coffee, the dog snoring between us while we lounged and lazed. We've nursed ourselves through sickness in that bed. Spied on neighbours through the window, as I'm sure they spied on us. My baby slept in her bassinet next to me, brand-new, as I stared and stared.

Speaking of my baby. What can I say about her nursery? I can't. Except that it's the hardest room to leave behind. Because the significance here is too much. We're leaving her babyhood in this room. She'll grow up in the new house, and I can't wait to take that journey with her, but she'll only have ever been a baby in this one. This room is loaded with so many incredible moments that my heart can barely sustain them. It swells and bubbles over with the memories we created, the bond we developed, right here in this room.

And finally, our rooftop. Along with the location, it's the reason we bought this place. 380 square feet, with sunny west-facing exposure, I'll always regret that we didn't use us more often. But when we used it, we used it well. Parties and BBQ's for the best of friends. Hot summer nights spent drinking wine and eating burgers. And perhaps the most lovely memory of them all. A beautiful day in June, my mother-in-law's birthday, when we sat on this rooftop and gave her the best present - the news that she'd soon be a grandmother. I'll never forget how happy we made her on that perfect day. How happy we all were.

You have been good to us little house. We'll always remember you fondly as the place where we learned to nest, learned to love like we never imagined possible, learned to know - no matter how bittersweet - when it was time to move forward.

Goodbye.

They Say It's Your Birthday

2011-01-30T11:33:00.005-05:00

Today my baby girl is 3 years old. I'm stunned. A full birthday post will have to wait because we're dead in the middle of packing and purging and washing and, of course, wrapping... getting ready for her party this afternoon.

So for now, enjoy the unbridled joy and excitement of my beautiful big girl (I really can't say baby anymore, but she always will be mine) yesterday as she prepared herself to say bye bye 2 and hello 3.

Top 40 (before 40): #2 - Check!

2011-01-27T16:59:00.032-05:00

If you know me, follow me here at Beaches' Speeches, or on Facebook, Twitter or Tumblr, if you work with me, or have randomly found yourself within a 50 foot radius of me in the last 3 months, then you will already know this news - we bought a house!

#2 - Check!

You will also already know that I have developed a wee bit of a social networking addiction - the worst kind - the kind where you are trying to participate in ALL of them and as a result are participating in none of them very well. Sigh. The modern day pressures.

Anyhow, my shortcomings as a digital Goddess aside, I've been busy. So busy in fact that I haven't even had a chance to post pictures of our new house here. I have a gazillion pictures and I most definitely want to record this experience - house hunting, finding, buying, selling (#3 - Check!), packing, moving, and renovating (#4 - on it's way to being Check!) - for you in writing, but the time? It is not on my side.

This experience is an emotional rollercoaster and I'm right now hanging at the very top of the highest hill, about to tumble down over the side as my guts fly up out of my nose and I don't quite know at any instant whether I should laugh or cry. That is to say, I need to some time to write it all down effectively, engagingly and with the humour and smarts that these crazy past few months deserve.

So for now, behold some photos and commentary on the house we bought, and the home we hope it will soon become:

Here's the entranceway. It's getting completely redone OBVS, but what I'd like to point out here is the paint colour. What is that? Flesh? Yes, best described as flesh. The entire house is painted in it.

Living room. So much going on here that I don't know where to start. Oh! I know, let's start with the sexy-time photo the previous owners had above the (non-functioning) fireplace. Hot. Stuff.

Kitchen #1. There are three in this house. This one is "new". We will be living with it because we can't afford to take a sledgehammer to it as it deserves. Photo doesn't do it justice but trust me when I tell you that both the countertops and those curtains are purple.

Majestic double arches. These bitches are coming down.

Hardwood or vinyl runner? I know, it's so hard to tell. The trickiness!

The basement looks pretty great in this shot. What you can't see is that the door there on the right? Yeah, about four feet high. A basement for hobbits.

And what's behind that hobbit door? This lovely square bathroom suite, complete with bidet. That bad boy has washed a lot of asses. (Full disclosure, I've used this joke about 100 times, but it continues to crack me up.)

This is a strange little room off the kitchen that leads out to the backyard. Again, it looks cute in this shot, but what you can't see is that it's not heated and that door - yep, also about 4 feet high.

So that's a tiny sneak peak. We're in the middle of some serious renos right now so you can expect to see our transformation as it happens. As funny as we think the house was when we bought it, we love it and really, all I see when I look at it now is potential, potential, potential. Stay tuned...

And as a bonus, gotta post this little dude; he had a prime spot in the previous owners' dining room. He was so jolly and at home among the Jesus portraits and the ceiling fans. I wish I'd had him included in the sale:

And So This is Christmas

2010-12-22T15:09:00.022-05:00

Holy wow.

A minute ago I was putting away all the decorations and toys and gifts that amassed over Christmas and then I just stopped to rest my eyes for a second and BAM! It's Christmas again.

Because today was Bella's annual Christmas concert at her daycare, and because it's been a little slow at the office, I decided to take some time this afternoon for a brisk stroll down ~~Bloor Street~~ memory lane.

When I look back at that post from around a year ago and compare it to how things went down at the sing-a-long today, I'm am struck with the many similarities between the child I had a year ago and the child I have today.

This year she still spent a good deal of time clinging to me, and she still got overwhelmed (to the point of sobs) when Santa appeared at the window. She still retreated into herself, her shyness and anxiety getting the better of her little body and complex mind, even though I know that leading up to the party this year she was very excited to dance and sing-along. In fact, she'd been practicing and talking about it for close to a month.

She still refused to sit for a picture with the fat man, preferring instead to watch intently from the sidelines and loyally cheer on all her braver and more out-going friends. Except this year not only could I not convince her to go talk and sit with him, but I couldn't even carry her over there because she's too big and her fight and will is just too powerful. So this is our picture ~~with~~ of Santa for 2010:

And me, the fierce protector, did not push her to do any of the things that she was hesitant to do. But I did gently encourage her. I did try to tell her that it's okay to take a little risk. To let loose a little and get up with her friends for a song and a dance. Because encouraging her to break out of her shell is protecting her in some ways too. I want so badly for the wonderful, happy, boisterous little girl -- who we get to enjoy in private-- to learn to get past her public fears and stresses. Because I was that same little girl once upon a time and though it took me a million years, I know how amazing it feels when you finally break free. I wanted her to have the moment that she'd been preparing for all month.

And you know what? She kind of did. Although there were a lot of similarities this year to last, there were also some great advancements for my beautiful little girl. Still reserved. Still quiet. But out there. Off my lap. The clinging a little less firm, the glances my way for assurance a little less frequent.

Behold, my Bella, my beauty, my serious, special girl. Doing it up at the Christmas party in her own preciously furtive fashion:

I wish that every one of you gets a moment to let loose this holiday season. Merry Christmas from my family to yours.

I'm Still Standing

2010-12-03T13:25:00.008-05:00

Hi. Have you missed me? I've been a little busy. HAHAHAAAA. Understatement of the century.

But I have not given up on this blog. And I still fully intend to honour #23. Its just, well, the thing of it is OMG I CAN'T DO IT ALL.

Apparently though, I can do a lot. Here's a quick run down of why I've been M.I.A.:

We bought a house (#2, CHECK! Full post on this, with hilarious pictures to come)
We packed up and moved out of our condo in order to sell it. We've been living at my parents' house now for close to five weeks (#3, to be checked off very soon I hope, will keep you posted)
Work has been insane with the build up towards the full redesign of my website (#5, in the works!)
Still taking my Interior Design class at Ryerson, which has included several Sundays devoted to a massive group project. Am going to post pictures of the crazy model we had to build as soon as I can find a few minutes to upload photos
Christmas shopping
Christmas parties and lunches (yes, already)
Crown's mom was in town, so there was much evening visiting to be done
Oh yeah, parenting a beautiful but, ehm, explosive toddler
Throw in some incidentals like swimming lessons, real estate agent meetings and sleep

Add all those items up and I am left with something akin to NO TIME FOR ANYTHING ELSE AT ALL.

So bear with me. There is excitement afoot, I promise. And as soon as I have a minute or two to sit my ass down at the computer, I will share this excitement with you in a witty and engaging manner. Plus, I'm still finding time for the odd post of something pretty over at Beaches' Bites.

For now, proof that we still bring the cuteness, out and about in our temporary 'hood:

Top 40 (before 40): #7 - Check!

2010-10-26T21:14:00.013-05:00

On Oct. 9 Bella had her first official swimming lesson. Or perhaps I should say Bella and I had her first official swimming lesson, because this swimming lessons business? Team effort. We've since been in the pool together three times (missed one week because we were out of town for Thanksgiving) and I feel like three weeks' worth of Saturday morning at 10am swimming lessons constitutes a check! on item #7 from my Top 40 (before 40) list: enroll Bella in swimming lessons. YES! One down.

Being in the pool with Bella for her lessons is both extremely entertaining and incredibly frustrating. Entertaining because when she's in a good mood and being the star pupil that I really want her to be it is SO fun. Watching her show off for her teacher and get a little competitive with the other toddlers is a trip for me, since I have always been a totally annoying school nerd that way and being an over-achiever is in my blood and so it must be in her blood too, right? Okay maybe not so much, yet to be determined.

However, when she decides that she'd rather play with "THE DORA BALL, I WANT THE DORA BALL, LET ME GO TO THE DORA BALL", and refuses to listen to the teacher at all or follow any instructions what-so-ever, it makes me die a little inside. And toddlers get tired of listening to instructions after about 10 minutes, max. We have a half hour lesson each week so you do the math. 10 minutes of really fun brown-nosing and showing off, 20 minutes of me begging her to listen and cooperate (while sweating and doing all the lessons myself in an embarrassing attempt to make up for her lack of scholarly obedience).

Pretty sure the other parents are getting mighty tired of hearing me say, "Watch Mommy! Mommy can float like a star fish! Can YOU float like a starfish? Come on! It's fun! Float like a starfish no you can't have the Dora ball float like a starfish float like a starfish!" But whatevs, I am totally kicking those other toddlers' asses at the starfish float and that's worth my $35 bucks right there.

Seriously though, three weeks in and I'm learning to relax and enjoy the one-on-one time with my adorable sometimes starfish floater sometimes Dora ball chaser. One day all too soon she won't need me in the pool with her anymore and I'll profoundly miss her slippery little hands around my neck, and her shivery little body pressed up to mine as we bounce and float and learn together.

Top 40 (before 40)

2010-09-25T09:09:00.028-05:00

This week I turned 35 years old. THIRTY FIVE YEARS OLD. As in, I have now been alive for exactly three and a half DECADES.

I'm not normally a proponent of New Year's Resolutions or life-lists or anything that basically just sets you up for certain failure, but I think I can safely say that there were a number of things kicking around in my brain that I really thought I'd have done by the time I reached 35. Not going to get into specifics on what those things are, they are pretty typical and I'm sure that you could easily use your imagination and come up with what a good chuck of them might be.

OR you could do this instead: read the list below.

Inspired by this list, written by one of my favourite bloggers of the moment Nicole Balch over at Making It Lovely, I've decided to risk the obvious set up for failure and make my own list. I'm actually surprised I haven't done this sooner because God knows I'm a list-maker. I normally practice listing on a more micro level, like sticking a, "TO DO THIS WEEKEND" list to the fridge every Saturday morning (my husband loves these lists). They rarely get accomplished and I end up peeling them off on Monday morning with dejection and tossing them in the trash with a sigh (my husband loves that particular sigh).

I'm confident that this list, because it's got goals much larger and closer to my heart than "Mr. Clean Erase the scuff marks in hallway," will be more fun to follow. I mean really? Who doesn't love checking off items on a list? What's that? You don't? YOU LIE.

I'm (ahem) slightly longer in the tooth than the lovely Mrs. Balch, so I'm giving myself a longer list, but also a much longer chunk of time to achieve it. I'm also giving myself an out. If for some reason I don't accomplish all 40 items before I turn 40, the remaining items can be rolled over to my Top 50 (before 50) list and so on. It's the lazy and slightly unmotivated way to list, but whatevs, I'm old, who needs the pressure?

And so, without further ado, my list:

Top 40 (before 40)

Expand my family. Intentionally leaving this one vague. Could mean another baby, could also mean a hamster. I have some really good names on ice so one way or another I will be using them.
~~Buy a new house.~~ DONE!
~~Prepare my condo for sale and sell it.~~ DONE!
Renovate and decorate the new house.
Relaunch my work website, hgtv.ca.
Achieve a level of work/life balance that works for my entire family. In order to do this, either Crown or I will need to change what we do for a living or how often we do it.
~~Put Bella in swimming lessons (not optional, she must learn to swim for safety).~~ DONE!
Take my family to Disneyworld.
~~Go to Canada's Wonderland and ride all the rollercoasters.~~ DONE!
Visit at least one different city each year.
Reinstate my monthly ladies poker club, Chicks 'n Chips.
Flawlessly canter through an entire jumps course.
Go to the opera.
Take Bella to see The Nutcracker.
See a Broadway show.
Host my entire extended family at our house for a major holiday.
~~Throw a party for all of our friends for no reason except to say thanks for having us to your place so many times while we waited to finally have the space to host you.~~ DONE!
~~Put Bella in ballet classes (to see if she likes it).~~ DONE!
Get beyond my more crippling body-image issues, either by fixing them or learning how to accept them.
Go on a week-long beach vacation with my family once per year to relax, recharge, reconnect.
More alone time with husband. At least twice per month.
Organize all of our family photos. This includes the massive digital library and all the thousands of hard copies. And the videos.
Write more. At least three times a week on this blog.
Get back into yoga.
Learn to sew.
Finish at least three courses in the Interior Design program at Ryerson University, and decide if it's something I want to pursue further.
Bake banana bread.
Buy a bike and start going on rides with my family.
Throw a proper kids birthday party at our house, complete with fun theme.
Take Bella to the AGO, CN Tower and the ROM (be tourists in our own city).
Put Bella in horseback riding lessons (to see if she likes it).
Start cooking at least one dinner a week (Crown cooks them all right now).
Visit my in-laws in Greece.
Go to Paris (separating this out from one city/year because it's a BIG one).
Go away on a long weekend escape with my girlfriends (no babies, no boys).
Go on a romantic weekend away with Crown once per year.
See the changing leaves in Algonquin Park in the fall.
Go camping. In a tent. At least once (no repeats necessary).
Buy more vintage.
*Pick a cause and support it financially and by volunteering my time.

*I have supported The United Way since I began working and will continue to do so. I always donate to the Canadian Red Cross when there is an international disaster, but realize that there is always a need for more ongoing support. I need to commit to a cause I can support in a way that makes a tangible difference and in a way that can show my daughter how lucky we are and how important it is to give back. I have spent many hours considering what this cause will be: starving children? homelessness? animal cruelty? the environment? women's education in development countries? aids prevention in Africa? I always become so overwhelmed and emotionally drained at the enormity of need that I end up doing nothing at all. This must change. I will find my cause and you should know that I may be coming after you to help me.

If You Don't Know Me By Now...

2010-09-17T13:04:00.013-05:00

...never fear you might still get your chance!

Here's the dealio.

I know I've been neglecting this blog. I always wanted this to be a place where I could actually sit for a while, think about things and record my life's moments with some intelligence, humour and depth. But since I went back to work and my life's moments started flying by at the speed of light, I've found it incredibly difficult to find the time (energy, space, passion, desire) to give this blog the attention that I feel it deserves.

Plus? Major identity crisis. Beaches' Speeches was always supposed to be all about me and my rambling observations on life - hence "Speeches".

And I think it started out that way. And then when I was pregnant it was obvious that I would record that experience here because that's what I was doing at the time. You know, CREATING ANOTHER HUMAN BEING INSIDE OF MY BODY. Kind of a big deal, just saying.

And then Bella was born. And raising her was what I was doing at the time. All the time. Every second of the time day and night I was raising her and photographing her and obsessing over her and loving her and needing her and needing to share her with all of you (and writing run on sentences, which has clearly continued). And I was on maternity leave so really, truly, she was my sole focus in life.

And though my life was busy, I still managed to squeak out some me-time to sit here and write about her. Time to think and reflect on what it meant to become a parent. And time to record it (I think quite well, thank you very much) during naps and late at night when the rest of the world was sleeping. And so this blog became all about her.

I'm not considering changing the direction of this blog. Anabella remains a (if not the) major focus of my life and as such, I anticipate that most of my speeches here will continue to be about her. But I'm also going to allow the direction of this blog to follow the direction of my life and morph as organically as I do. I anticipate writing about myself a little more often here when (if) I find time. For those of you out there that still care to read my most ramblingest rambles, or see a million and one pictures of my kid and my dog (Hi, Mom), I hope you'll continue to check in on me here.

But lately I feel the need for a quicker more accessible outlet, a new project, that will allow me to focus a little bit more on, well, me. And so, for anyone who could really not care less that Bella is now fully potty trained AND sleeping in a big girl bed (that's right, Bitches! Successful parenting abounds in our house!), and would prefer to just get quick updates about what's inspiring me in my personal and professional life (Hi, everyone who reads me and who is not my mom) then hoooboy do I have life shattering announcement for you (drum roll, please)...

I have finally jumped on the Tumblr bandwagon and started a brand-new Beaches' Speeches offering called Beaches' Bites. I am going to use it for quick posts about things that I am hearting right now. It'll give you a peek into what I do for a living, what I'm learning and doing at school (yep, back to school this fall taking an Interior Design course at Ryerson) and what I'm coveting from my day-to-day discoveries online and elsewhere.

I know. Amazing news, right? You're welcome.

Given I don't get to post here that I often, I'd hate to wrap up this one right here and risk disappointing my loyal Speeches readers. So here you go Mom, these are for you:

Bella feeling proud of herself after her very first sleep in her "big girl" bed.

The Momes, enjoying the view of the spectacular Ipperwash Beach during our summer vacation in August.

Happy Birthday to You: Two and a half!

2010-07-30T20:20:00.011-05:00

Dear Anabella,

Today you turned two and a half years old.

It's been six months since my last birthday letter and needless to say you're still very cute.

See all the diapering paraphernalia in the above photo? We're almost done with it! It's been a real test of our parenting patience because, as you have been with most of your developmental milestones, you're keen to do it your own way, on your own terms, and most importantly on your own time. But after countless moppings of countless floors, you're almost there.

This past week as been one of the toughest yet in my rather short parenting portfolio because as you got closer and closer to being diaper-free, you suddenly decided that all this potty business was a lot of work and it would be much simpler if you just didn't pee at all. Ever. So you held it and you held it (15 hours of no peeing at all on one tortuous day). But then, as soon as I realized I just had to leave you alone, you decided you were ready. You're not 100 percent there yet, but you're close.

It's worth jumping for.

Potty trials aside you remain the sweetest human I've ever met. You're funny and kind, and empathetic. You are always quick to ask, "Are you okay?" to anyone who seems like maybe they are not. One of my favourite Bellaisms at the moment is when you proclaim that you're going to do something and then you look at me and with an upward flip of your chin you say, "You okay with that?" Why yes, adorable child, I am.

Tomorrow we're heading away to the beach for a full week and I can't wait to have you all to myself for nine days. Away from the bustle of our city life, I plan to relax and drink you in. You're changing so fast these days that I bet you have a few tricks up your sleeve that I haven't had the pleasure of discovering yet. It's okay to keep your secrets for a while, believe me when I tell you, I live for the moments when you open up and share them with me.

I love you.

Mommy

If I Could Turn Back Time

2010-07-07T19:32:00.008-05:00

It occurs to me as I sit down to write that I almost never have anything to say here that's not at least indirectly about my daughter. It also occurs to me that I should think about changing that fact. Not because I'm worried about boring you (if I am, go away), or because I think I'll ever run out of things that I want to say or share about her (never gonna happen) but because one day she's going to have a full life of her own and she simply won't be around as much to provide such a wide and compelling (it is to me - shut up) body of subject matter.

This week we moved one step closer to that inevitable and rather ominous day when my baby flutters from the nest. Dramatic? Yes. But I have to make these stories interesting somehow.

This week Bella moved out of her (and my) beloved toddler room at daycare and started preschool (same daycare, different room, new routines, fewer and different teachers). Because I'm prone to rambling - if you're reading me you already know this - I'm going to make a really concerted effort to keep this post short and sweet. In fact, I'm going to leave it up to one picture (truly worth a thousand words) and one anecdote. The two together, I believe, sum up exactly how this milestone of a transition has gone so far.

The Photo:

Taken by her Daddy on her first day, in response to my question, "Bella, are you a little nervous for your very first day of preschool?" This is Bella's way of saying, "Oh HELLS no. BRING IT."

The Anecdote:

It's dinnertime on her first full day in her new "classroom." The whole family is sitting together chatting about our day.

Me to Bella: "Did you have fun at preschool today, Bella?"

Bella to Me: "Yeeees, I had FUN at pweschool tahday."

Bella: Pauses for a beat, thinking...

Bella to Me: "But tomorrow I'm going to be a toddler again, right Mummy?"

Me: Heart explodes into four hundred thousand shards as I realize that in fact she is not.

Jane's (Ok, Bella's) Addiction

2010-06-17T19:11:00.035-05:00

I have made a huge mistake.

But wait, before I get to my miserable parenting failure, let's talk for a moment about Crown's parenting success, which happened first (and which ultimately I will blame for my own mistake). I'll repeat, Crown had a brilliant idea, I tried to copy it several months later only to have it blow up in my face. Yes, you heard it here first. I'll give you a moment to chuckle about it. THAT'S ENOUGH, MOVING ON.

Let's give Crown his moment to shine. A couple of weeks before we took our winter vacation to Dominican Republic, he downloaded several episodes of Dora and Sesame Street onto his iPhone. He thought it would be a great source of entertainment (read : distraction) for Bella on the plane and might come in handy on the vacation as well, if she started to get fussy or bored. He was correct on all counts. The iPhone episodes were a God-send. Even though ultimately Bella was excellent on both plane rides, the shows did help keep her in her seat and it did keep me from having to play with stickers for the entire flight.

Oh, but one thing, the stickers were my idea. And they were also brilliant. The only problem with the stickers is that at her age (just under two at the time), she needed one of us to actually remove the stickers from the page. This gets boring really, really fast for a full-grown adult. And it NEVER GETS OLD FOR A TODDLER. You catch my drift?

ANYHOO. Crown's iPhone kids shows = brilliant. We still use them from time to time and generally they are great. Except for in the car. Because in the car they make her vomit profusely and violently and yes we learned that the hard way. Yes we did.

Fast forward a few months ahead to a faithful day in March when I dropped my cellphone in the daycare yard and it smashed into a pulp and lost all my contacts. Bummer, yes? NO! Because that allowed me to get an iPhone of my own and I am in love with my iPhone and I'm not afraid to say it. I love you iPhone. I love you so much.

Bella also took an interest in my iPhone and I thought it was really cute. She actually learned to turn it on and find my contacts and make calls to people. Hee hee, isn't that cute? OMG it's sooooo cute. I thought it was soooo cute and that she was such a genius about being able to use it so easily, I mean, she's not even TWO AND A HALF and she can use it almost as well as I can. It's amazing! She's advanced! Her brilliance should be encouraged. At this rate she'll be developing new technologies for NASA by her tween years!

So what did I do? I learned to put the phone on Airplane Mode, so that she couldn't call and bother my contacts anymore (sorry, Barberella my hair salon, that person that called you 40 times and just said "hello, hello, hello" into the phone? That was my toddler. Please don't take it out on my hair.) I got a case for my phone, so she wouldn't be quite as likely to guarantee it the same fate as my last phone. And then, and here's where the colossal FAIL kicks in, I downloaded her several toddler-friendly apps and let her at it.

Sigh.

For a while it was great. It started out slow. "I want Mommy's phone. Mommy, I want your phone." It was a way to get her to stop focusing on the television. "Mommy, can I have your phone, I want Mommy's phone."

Haha. "She sure loves it. Ha. Cute. Ha?"

I now know she was just humouring me by calling it "Mommy's" phone. As soon as there were flash cards that made actual animal sounds and games that allowed her to interact with Dora and Boots, that phone was no longer "Mommy's" at all. But for a while she kept up the pretense that it was mine. Soon the asking became demanding. And soon the demanding became full-on spazzing. Not just when she suddenly wanted the phone, but every single time she saw it.

"MOMMEEEEEE"S PHOOOONE. I NEEEEED IT. I NEEEEED IT MOMMY!"

And now? NOW? Now I can't even pull it out when she's in the same room without handing it over. This means I can't use the phone ever when she's with me. Which, unless I'm at work, is ALWAYS. And when we're together it has to remain on Airplane mode so that when she gets it (and she always gets it) she can't disturb my friends and colleagues with her random texts and calls. So, essentially, it is not a phone at all anymore. It's Bella's expensive and sophisticated play thing.

That's right. I am the enabler of a toddler with a serious iPhone addiction. And I want to free her of it, I really do. Sometimes I get tough about it. "NO Bella. Not right now. Mommy is using the phone. This is MOMMY'S phone. You have your books and toys. Play with those."

And you want to know what happens? Well I'm about to show you. I assure you, no toddlers were hurt in the making of this video. It's quite possible that a mother was slightly injured. After you've watched this you may laugh at my parenting fail for one full minute and we'll never speak of it again.

You've Got a Friend

2010-06-13T11:32:00.011-05:00

One of the most amazing things that Bella has learned at daycare is the concept of friendship. She has a little gaggle of gorgeous children that she's been together with now for a year and a half. At daycare all the kids are referred to as "friends" in their daily language and so Bella has been talking about her daycare "friends" for many months.

She definitely has favourites. Two boys, in particular, Duncan and Carter, I'd consider to be her current BFFs. The three have been together since the first trying days of the infant room right through until two weeks ago when Carter (probably one of Bella's favourite people ever, she actually said "Carter" before she said "Mama," no joke) was graduated over to the preschool group. I felt sad that the two would be separated for a while and worried that Bella would be upset, but kids are resilient as we know, and though she asked about him the first few mornings he was gone - "Carter is in preschool Mommy?" - she mostly took it all in stride and seems to know that they will be reunited soon.

And by soon, I mean a matter of weeks! My little baby is starting preschool on July 5. PRESCHOOL. Which, though she's moving over a little young, and I know it's just a fancy title for the daycare group, still means that she is in the realm of being a school-aged kid. This makes me feel a little dizzy. And I'm sure that the speed at which my little baby will develop once she moves over with the "big kids" won't do much to sooth my spinning head.

The transition itself also has me a little stressed. She didn't deal that well with her move from the infant to toddler room, and she's a kid that is very set in her routines. I anticipate that there will be some tearful mornings for a while. But I'm also hopeful that because she's so much more communicative now, and able to reason a little more than she was last summer, this move will go a little smoother. Plus, she's moving with Duncan (BFF #2) and Erin (another favourite "friend") so I'm sure that they will all provide each other with some sense of stability and comfort. And of course, she'll be reunited with Carter.

Though Carter may be Bella's favourite human friend, I think this might be a good time to point out that she's got another very good friend in her life. One that has become a daily playmate, a special constant, a protector, a furry force to feed, cuddle and torment. I was so worried when Bella was born that she and my fur baby would not get along. Thankfully my worries were entirely and astronomically unfounded.

As it turns out, my formerly crusty and kid-hating pooch is just a big softy after all. He's understanding, gentle and patient with her, even when she's trying to shove a sticker down his throat or use his curly tail as a teething toy. Just as any great friend should be.

Here's proof:

Yesterday

2010-04-28T09:08:00.013-05:00

Let's just get it out there - I've been terribly remiss about writing. I'm now going to let myself feel guilty about it for one entire minute.

...

There. We're past it, right?

Here's the thing. Yesterday was one of those days that I just have to get down in writing so that when I'm old and grey and reminiscing about the wonderful days when my family was young and the world was still so full of possibility and promise, I will remember that sometimes, those young, possibility-filled days were just ass. Pure and simple.

The day started off normal enough. The morning routine went down as usual, except that I was a little extra stressed because today the fur baby, Momes, was going in for an operation. If you know the Momes you'll understand that this is a very serious situation for his breed and for him especially (a dog with 9 lives, most of which he's already used up). He's likely under the knife right now and I don't care to discuss it. Will update later - moving on.

So I'm on edge about that. But we get ourselves together and we make it to daycare and work without incident. Sweet.

Morning at work goes as well as possible for someone who essentially feels like she's juggling three full time jobs. Job #1 - parent. Job # 2 - my job. Job #3 - trying to buy a new house. Whatevs, we're dealing as well as can be expected, if anyone has figured out the best way to work three full-time jobs at once without feeling a little STRESSED about it. Leave a comment.

I was actually quite excited about my lunch hour! Tuesdays are my riding lesson days and this means that I don't go to the gym on my lunch break. Oh, the possibilities! I can walk around, I can shop, I can eat somewhere out of the office. It's the best lunch hour of my week. Yesterday I decided that since pay day approaches and somehow I managed to keep a couple hundred bucks in my account, I'd treat myself to a little retail therapy to cheer myself up and relieve some stress.

Off to Zara! New shirt. So lovely. And you know what? Retail therapy really worked. I felt better. I'd budgeted for it and thought about it since my last pay. I was proud of myself for limiting it to just one, reasonably-priced item that I really liked. I would wear it when I went for drinks with friends on Friday! It was all coming together.

Back to the office for a busy afternoon of meetings. That actually helped because it kept my mind off the impending dog surgery and let me relax a little and talk creative business with my amazing colleagues. Thank God for them, they really do always help to make my day. But as the day wound down, the stress came back. By the time I was leaving the office, I felt a little nauseous from it all, I get spacey and tired when I'm stressed and I start to do stupid things.

Stupid things like leaving my brand-new shirt on the subway.

Fuck.

$40 dollars and the joy of a new item that was well earned and well deserved. FLUSH.

In over 10 years of commuting on the TTC I have NEVER done that before. Well, maybe the odd umbrella or pair of gloves, but never an entire shopping bag! Ever. I was so mad at myself when I realized it and SO utterly bummed. My entire so-so day was ruined. Silly to get upset over a $40 shirt, but it was the last one in my size. It was so pretty. And really? I don't have another $40 to replace it and I certainly didn't have an extra $40 to LEAVE ON THE SUBWAY.

So I get home and allow myself a five minute cry. Then it's time to suck it up because I have riding to get to for 7:30pm. A jumping lesson so I can't be despondent and distracted. I must be focused and eager. I make it to the barn and already am feeling better. I'm always cheered up by my horses. I'm assigned to one of my very favourites, a big, beautiful mare named Seven. Things are looking up! The lesson was great fun. We jumped verticals and rode a course. As always, after class I felt relaxed, happy and tired. Ready to go home, go to bed with my book and prepare for the tense day ahead (today).

Jump in the car, whip home, go to pull into my underground parking garage. The door is open, which is odd, but I pull in only to find a woman standing on the ramp waving her arms at me to stop and pull over. WTF? I roll down my window, get hit with a wave of stink, and she walks up and says, "Smell that? There's a skunk trapped down here. You might want to think about parking elsewhere so your car doesn't get sprayed."

A fucking skunk? In the UNDERGROUND parking lot? That's right. You can't make this shit up.

For a moment, I consider just parking there anyway. What are the chances that he'll go anywhere near my car? So I pull forward a bit 'til I can see my spot. And what is walking around frantically in circles IN my spot? Correct. Senior Skunk. I back the fuck out of the parking garage. NO WAY am I risking getting sprayed by skunk on a day that already stinks.

Though I briefly considered moving the car to the visitor lot, I opt for the street instead because the skunk is down there, he's pissed and who is to say that he won't run to the visitors section? The way my day is going, I'm getting sprayed for sure. I park on the street, go home and go to bed.

This morning? $30 ticket. But the car smells great.

Please send good vibes my way that my string of bad luck is over? My Momes needs all the help he can get.

The Things You Say

2010-03-20T09:03:00.004-05:00

We've all heard that kids say the darnedest things, but until I had the opportunity to watch my own small human develop language, I'm not sure I really appreciate the hilarity of what actually comes out of their mouths.

We've had some real gems in the last month or so since Bella's language really accelerated from single words and commands into full sentences, made up songs and stories, even jokes.

In an effort to record and remember the amazing things she says, I give you my latest series, The Things You Say.

About a month ago I was getting her dressed before daycare. We always talk about her outfit, name the articles of clothing. I ask her what colour her socks are, or what's on her shirt. Things like that. This particular morning, I was putting her in a polka-dotted long-sleeved shirt:

Me to Bella: "What's on your shirt?"
Bella to me: "Coconuts!"

Another morning, just a few days ago. Again, getting dressed. This time we're naming body parts. She's working her way down my arms:

"Mommy's arms, Mommy's elbows, Mommy's hands, Mommy's fingers, Mommy's fingernails..." A pause while she stares at my hands intently, searching for the right word... "Mommy's nickles!"

I laughed and corrected her. "Close Bella, but those are called knuckles."

This morning, the whole family is lying in bed while Bella drinks her morning bottle. She's sitting between us, looking from one of us to the other, chattering away, again naming body parts. Suddenly she points to Crown's bare chest and smiles.

Bella to us, in a very proud voice: "Daddy's knuckles!"
Me, confused for just a second before cracking up: "Almost Bella, but those are nipples."

In the Morning

2010-03-11T20:32:00.009-05:00

Nobody in my family is a morning person. Not a single one of us, not even the dog. As such, I was a little worried when I went back to work and took over the "morning duties," which include getting myself up, showered, dressed and ready and then getting Bella up, dressed, fed and bundled. Then I walk her up to daycare before starting my own commute to the office.

Surprisingly, now that I've been back to work for just over a year, my mornings with Bella have become my favourite part of the day. We usually have a good hour together, just she and I, and there's nothing more beautiful to me than seeing her sleepy face when I go in to wake her up.

Bella wakes up just like me, hair everywhere, face a little puffy and a lot pouty, slightly demented with the fogginess of early morning. She's usually crusty but in a funny way, quick to fight me on every detail, but always just a tickle away from hard-earned giggle fit. I love how she smiles and chats to herself while enjoying her morning bottle in my bed, while I try on outfits and put on my face.

I love picking out her outfit for the day and take immense pleasure in all her tiny adorable fashions. I am going to be really sad the day she stops letting me help her choose her clothes.

I have to admit, that while I love our morning ritual together, the pleasure ends quickly once we're done upstairs and have to head downstairs for breakfast. This part of the routine always feels rushed. My girl likes to eat slowly while wandering about and there's no time for dawdling once we hit the kitchen portion of our morning. I always have one eye on the clock and she always knows it.

That's not to say that we don't have struggles upstairs too. Oh. WE HAVE SOME STRUGGLES. It's just that while we're upstairs the day is still young and fresh, and the ticking clock is still out of sight. Her feisty attitude is hard not to love when she's traipsing around in footy pajamas and bedhead. Her screams and disagreements are met with my own smiles and hugs. It's our special, private time of day, and despite the struggles I'll treasure our mornings together for as long as the sun does rise.

Not Quite There

2010-02-27T22:45:00.006-05:00

I've read that there's not much point starting to potty train your child if they are not ready. I'm pretty sure that mine is not ready. Though she wakes up most morning with a dry diaper and doesn't have her first pee until or during her morning bottle, she still doesn't give us any verbal indication that she has to go, nor does she really care if her diaper is wet or otherwise. She'd rather just live with the soggy bottom than have to give up playing and go get changed.

A few weeks back, in the baby aisle at the grocery store, we passed by a Dora potty seat and Bella said to me, "I want that, Mommy." I kind of knew that she only wanted it because of the Dora factor but I explained to her that it was meant for going potty.

Me: "Do you want to try to use the Potty?"
Her: "Yes, Mommy. I want to use that Dora potty."

Sold. The potty seat came home with us. My first attempt to put her on it went something like this.

Me: "Bella, should we sit on your new Dora potty?!"
Her (in a full high pitched shriek): "NOOOO!"

Later that day I decided not to ask her and just pick her up, before putting her in the waiting bath, and sit her on it. Yeah. Ever tried to put a cat in the tub? She basically folded completely backwards, smashed her head off the back of the toilet, leaped six feet into the air and clung onto the ceiling with her bare hands.

Since then, I've tried a few more times to coax her to sit, with absolutely no success whatsoever. Instead, whenever we're kind of milling about upstairs, doing our wake up or bedtime routine or even just playing around, I leave the potty seat sitting on the toilet and casually mention it from time to time. She's getting used to it being there and sometimes I catch her just standing next to it, looking at Dora and Boots and talking quietly about "the Dora potty." She even says, "Goodnight Dora potty," after she brushes her teeth before bed.

Friday morning I was in my room getting dressed and Bella was milling around with her toys, waiting until I was ready to go downstairs and get breakfast. I came into the bathroom to finish up my make up and saw this:

Is she ready yet? Not quite. But I'm proud of the progress that Alex the Monkey is making, and I'd say that my own monkey is likely not that far behind.

Happy Birthday to You: 2 YEARS OLD

2010-01-31T10:09:00.016-05:00

Dear Anabella,

Yesterday you turned 2 years old.

As I type you are climbing in your new little chair, a gift from me and Dad, wearing your paper birthday crown (yes, still), your feather boa and chattering away contentedly to yourself. Happy, curious, talkative, adorable. Two. Two!

There were several moments this week, leading up to your big day, when I was literally stopped in my tracks with a racing heart and breathless disbelief that the day was going to come. That we'd gather as a family and sing happy birthday to you for the second time. Already? How?

This was a good week. You were feeling well after months of struggling with an on again, off again cough and cold. We finally dosed you with antibiotics and holy wow! Thank you modern medicine! Suddenly you were yourself again. We shared snuggles, and fits of laughter, tickle fights, and quiet moments just sitting close. These magical moments make me want to hit the pause button and freeze time. Stay like that, happy and laughing and so in love with you right then and there, just like that, forever.

But at the same time that thinking makes me recoil at the inappropriateness of it. Because for so many moms and babies in this world, those moments to get frozen way too soon. A horrible thing happened in Haiti this month and it's shaken me to the core. Not only because of the sheer unimaginable horror of it all, but because we were together on that very island only three days before the earthquake hit. We shared one of the most beautiful weeks of my life on that very island that today has been utterly devastated by the very same nature that we were frolicking in mere days beforehand.

I guess what I'm trying to say, is that even though I wish at times that I could keep you small and sweet forever, I do not for one moment take for granted the absolute privilege that it is to watch you grow. Not even the tantrums or the "NO MOMMIES" or the 500,000 episodes of Dora (Doo doo doo Dora doo doodoodoodoo Dora) that you make us watch over and over and over.

Two years ago yesterday at approximately 4:30pm, I looked down into your tiny, perfect little face and held your fresh, warm body against my chest and I thought, in that moment, that it would not be possible to feel a love any greater than I did right then. I thought, utterly incorrectly, that if we could freeze that moment I'd have already reached my capacity for happiness. But that wasn't true. Because today I love you a billion times more. Every day I love you more and more.

Happy birthday Bella.

Love,

Mommy

If You Like Pina Coladas

2010-01-10T12:22:00.009-05:00

Just got back from a week in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic and our first international family vacation. Suffice it to say that we had an amazing time and that all of us needed the getaway and the week to just unwind, reconnect and relax.

And relax we did. Especially my Bella. My shy, reserved, cautious little girl took to the new routine (or lack there of), the sand and surf as I should have known any child of mine would. I could literally see her shedding her shell and letting loose almost as soon as we arrived. She was all smiles, giggles and unbridled joy as she frolicked in the ocean, rolled in the sand, and perhaps best of all, danced and danced to the sounds of the salsa and merengue that was the backdrop to our seven days and nights.

The affects of a whole week, just the three of us, with nothing to do but be together, unburdened by work and chores and our busy city life can not possibly be summed up or demonstrated any better than by this video, shot in front of an airport full of people as we waited to board our plane and fly home. My girl, unselfconscious and as carefree as any toddler should be, shaking what her mama gave her, dancing like there was nobody on earth but her and us. Making my hopes for her come true, even if just for a few blissful moments:

Happy Birthday to You: 23 Months Old

2009-12-31T09:55:00.009-05:00

Dear Anabella,

Yesterday you turned 23 months old. And so, on this final day of the decade, we are into the final stretch of your 'ones'! Can't deal. Can. Not. Deal.

As always, I could sit here and write a novella about all the developments this month delivered. All the good times (Christmas! Santa! Family and friends!) and all the not so good (Hunger strike! Sleepless nights! TANTRUMS!) but alas, today is a busy day as we are preparing to leave on our very first international family vacation (read: airplane) early tomorrow morning.

Am in a FULL panic.

Instead, I'll leave you with just our 23 month pictures. As a side note, I think it's worth noting that this month, for the first time, when I asked you to get into your chair for the photos, you said, "OK Mommy," and just climbed on up. Just look, JUST LOOK, at how you are filling in that chair!

Can't deal.

I love you.
Mommy

We Wish You a Merry Christmas!

2009-12-23T13:40:00.014-05:00

Last year was Bella's first Christmas and I so badly wanted to freeze it in time with a traditional mall-Santa photo that we could laugh at for decades to come, but the protector in me kicked in and I didn't take her, knowing full well that placing her on that strange man's knee in the middle of that strange place would instantly send her into full cardiac arrest and probably scar her for life.

You see, my daughter, though charming, outgoing and funny as hell in private, suffers from more than her fair share of acute social anxiety. If she is placed in the vicinity of anyone that she has not known for her ENTIRE life she immediately retreats into herself, clutches onto my neck, and acts as if the world will end should this/these strange people so much as glance in her direction.

I always tell our guests, or any newish people who come near her, that it's best to avoid eye contact for at least one full hour and for GOD'S SAKE do NOT speak directly to her. Truly it's best to pretend as if she does not exist, until she's ready to come to you. This might take an hour, or it might take 3 days. Deal. With. It.

Last month, my employer had a company-wide children's Christmas party. It was technically for kids a little older than Bella, but they rented out an entire amusement park, and had gifts and of course, the Big Guy himself would be there, posing for pictures with the kids that would tolerate them. I so wanted her to go and though I didn't expect that she'd actually sit on his knee for a photo, this year she knows who Santa is and I secretly hoped that she'd be so awed in his presence that I could sneak her up there for a quick snap before all hell broke loose.

Well, hell broke loose at our house before we even left for the party. It started too late and her nap schedule was off and yadda yadda yadda a major meltdown/tantrum ensued. Plug was pulled on the mission and I resigned myself to another Santaless Christmas. Unlike last year, I was actually really disappointed this time around. I felt like she would have had a really good time at the party and even if she didn't get a photo with Santa, she would have loved to see him and to run around the park with the other little elves from the office.

Imagine my delight then when I realized that we'd get another chance!

Yesterday morning Bella's daycare had their annual Christmas sing-a-long. I think it used to be an actual concert until the caregivers realized that they were pretty much the only people doing any singing, while the all kids cried or stood frozen in stage-frightened silence.

The sing-a-long was fun, or would have been if it weren't for my anxiety-riddled child clinging to my neck and chest so tightly that I'm covered in claw marks today. There were moments, during her very favourite songs (Twinkle, Twinkle and Jingle Bells), where she loosed her grip on my throat a little and sang along, and in those moments I died and went to heaven. I'll never survive an actual school choir performance. Never.

But then, near the end of our sing-a-long, a tremor of excitement rippled through the room. A tremor that could only be caused by one man... that's right... tapping at the window with his candy cane cane and a full-on teen-aged, angst-ridden elf at his side. Santa. The kids went off like tweens at a Jonas Brothers concert, and my Bella? Oh my sweet, sweet little Bella. She looked up at me and took my cheeks in her little hands. Her eyes were wide as saucers and little body was literally reverberating with the sheer amazement of it all as she looked right into my eyes and whispered, "Mommy, it's Santa Clause." (Note, there's a video coming but I don't have time to upload it right now).

Of course I cried. I couldn't contain it. It was the magic of Christmas. The way that it should be. The pure, unadulterated, unspoiled, unrestrained joy of a child seeing Santa for the first time and not just believing it was him, but knowing it was him. It was a moment that I will remember and cherish for the rest of time.

Of course, Santa and his elf settled into pose with the children for pictures. Most kids were dragged over there against their will kicking and screaming all the way. The protector in me reared her head yet again and though I asked Bella several times if she wanted to go sit with Santa, she answered no each time and I didn't press the issue. She was happyish to watch from a distance, in the safety of my arms, as other kids sat on his knee for photos. Finally, once almost all the kids had their turns, I said to her, "Last chance Kiddo, do you want to go and see Santa?" And she, leaned into to me and in her breathy little voice said, "Yes."

So over we went, Cairn standing by with the camera at the ready. I stood with her for a minute or so while we said hi to Santa and she gave him a high five (super-cute) and then we went for it. Attempt one went something like this. I sat her down on his jolly old knee. She lasted a quarter of a section before she launched herself up into the air as if his leg was composed entirely of red hot coals, screaming and flailing all the while. It was quite the feat of strength and acrobatics, actually:

I think attempt number two wraps up this holiday post about as perfectly as anything ever could. It speaks volumes about how sometimes we think we want things for our kids, we think it's going to make the season special, or memorable, we think we're forging lifelong family traditions. But really? For the kids a chorus of jingle bells and that first glance of Santa Clause can make all their dreams come true. The rest of it? The dresses and the shopping and the pictures taken on Santa's knee? Well that stuff is mostly for us. And that's okay! We deserve to be happy too.

From my crazy little family to yours - a heartfelt Happy Holidays.

Happy Birthday to You: 22 Months Old

2009-12-04T20:37:00.016-05:00

Dear Anabella.

It's probably because of that protective hormone that makes mothers forget all about the horrors of labour and the newborn months 1 - 3 so that they will continue to reproduce and the world will not fall into barren ruins, but I am almost willing to say that your 22nd month has been one of our most challenging months yet.

It's difficult to explain exactly why this is, accept to say that you are developing quickly into exactly the kind of person I want you to be: independent, intelligent, hilarious... and it's killing me!

You've become tremendously independent this month preferring to feed yourself or dress yourself without help and choosing to walk places rather than have me carry you or push you in the stroller. If anything, you are adopting these habits quite late compared to most babies, and given that up 'til now you've preferred to be waited on and lugged about, you'd think I'd be thrilled at this new found ambition.

The thing is though? Not always that helpful.

For instance when you feed yourself yogurt and blueberries in the morning, it takes me twice as long to clean you and your high chair up before we can leave for daycare. Sometimes it requires a complete outfit change by the time you are done.

And now that you like to walk yourself into daycare, you'd think I'd be thrilled! No more dirty shoes brushing up on my dress coat. No more juggling gym bag and daycare stuff, plus a 30 lbs child and trying to open doors and get you inside.

The problem here? You are SLOW. You are as slow as a one-legged turtle. With a brick tied to his leg. You take these ity bitty shuffle steps and I swear you are practically going backwards and you look at me and laugh because you know you're being a brat but you also know that it's funny as hell and that I can't help but laugh with you! Do I dare try to pick you up to get you in before I miss my bus? OH NO. Because I am afraid of you and your explosive tantrums. They come on like a tsunami in the mornings - not a moment of notice and BAM! you've wiped out an entire village with your wrath.

There are other things that have made this a challenging month. You were sick with Roseola just after Halloween. There was the H1N1 madness to contend with (you got both your shots this month and while you weren't too happy about it, you weren't to awful about it either). It's getting colder, despite being blessed with an amazingly warm November, but you refuse to wear mittens or boots. You won't even let us put your blanket on you in the stroller anymore.

I could continue this list, it goes on and on, each little thing more bizarre and unexplainable that the next. Like why don't you like towels? Why to you insist on drying off after a bath like a little puppy dog, running naked and wet around the room? But you know what? I don't want to talk about all the things that made month 22 a challenge. I can't possibly complain about these little idiosyncrasies that make you so innately you. Because the fact remains (and I suspect it always will) that to me you are just amazingly, ridiculously, immaculately perfect.

And also, if I complain about your behaviour now, what will I have left when you turn fifteen? Just look at you... tell me this look isn't coming back to haunt me in your early teens:

Or this one:

Therefore, rather than whine for things I have no right to whine about, I give you 10 Reasons I Absolutely Loved Month 22:

1. "I love you Mommy." While you've been repeating this for a few months now, this month you started saying it without being prompted? Hello! Pinnacle of motherhood. Check.

2. Speaking in the first person. For some time now it's been all about, "Bella's bottle." "Bella's Nana." "Bella's toys." All of a sudden, and completely out of nowhere, this month you started to say, "I." One of the cutest examples is "I can DO it." But you also gave me a doozy the other day when you woke up early and started calling me from your bed. You started out like normal with the basic, "Mommy? MOMMY? Mommmeeeee?" but you quickly realized that I was going to ignore you and try to steal a few more minutes of sleep so you went silent for a moment (I can only assume you were plotting) and then in the sweetest voice ever you called out to me with, "I need you Mommy." Um? I'm SCREWED. At 22 months old you have already learned the one phrase that I will never, ever be able to ignore.

3. The letter L. Suddenly you can insert into words where you never could before. You used to say "Pease!" and now you say, "PuhLease." You used to say, "Bankie" and now you say, "BahLanket." It's freakin' adorable because you over-pronounce the "L" sound now, as if you're making up for lost time.

4. You're funny and you know it. You've always been funny in your own way. A quiet, smart kind of funny that probably most people wouldn't notice. But I'm your mom and so I know. Remember that. I'll always know. Suddenly you're turning into a little ham. You'll do something really funny and say to me, "I silly, Mommy. I SILLY."

5. "Some mo'Wah." For months now you've been saying, "mo'" when you want more. "Mo'" was actually one of your very first words, you signed it for a long time, along with simple works like milk and help. But as soon as you started to speak, you gave up the sign and started saying "Mo'." "Mo' milk." "Mo' tickles." "Mo' bubbles." Suddenly this month you've changed it to, "Some mo'Wah." Essentially you have adopted a strong southern accent.

6. Little Miss Bossy. You know what you want and you're not afraid to make other people do it for you. You boss around Moet like crazy. "Moet, in your bed!" And me like crazy, "Mommy DO IT." I love it because I want you to grow up knowing that if you don't ask for what you want, you'll never get it.

7. Your teeth. You finally have a full set, minus your 2 year molars (not looking forward to those). They are beautiful. You are so beautiful.

8. That Saturday morning a couple of weeks ago that you came to my bed at 7a.m. and after you finished a bottle of milk the two of us fell back to sleep, snuggled together, until 9:30a.m. Need I say more?

9. Your brain and how it totally works. Sometimes even more than I give it credit for. One morning this month I was dressing you in a track suit and so I pulled out a t-shirt that you haven't worn in a couple of months so that you could use it as an undershirt. You looked at the shirt, which you hadn't seen since early fall, and said to me, "Uncle Philip's shirt." And you were right. It was a gift from your Uncle Philip, who you also haven't seen for a couple of month. Memory. Recognition. Comprehension. HOLY CRAP.

10. Kisses and snuggles and hugs. Oh my. While you've always been decent at giving up smooches and hugs on demand, albeit often begrudgingly, this month you started doling them out on your own terms. Like when I come home from work, usually at least half an hour after you and Daddy get home, and you'll run to the top of the stairs and call to me. "Hi Mommy!" Then, when I get up the stairs there you are, smiling, arms outstretched, waiting for me to scoop you up and you'll pull back just a little to you can look into my eyes, and then smiling, you'll lean in and kiss me gently on my mouth. I don't think that anything in my life has ever made me more joyful.

I love you,

Mommy

Handsome Boy Modeling School

2009-11-08T10:57:00.005-05:00

Oh Moet, we have not forgotten you. This post is dedicated to my delicious Lil'Boss, because before you I didn't believe that miracles were possible.

Author's note: It occurred to me after posting that this kind of makes it seem as though he's dead. He's not. Very much alive and thriving. That would be the miracle I speak of. Sorry if I temporarily upset you. Oops.

Tiny Dancer

2009-11-05T21:32:00.005-05:00

Or, as I like to call your Halloween costume this year: Bellarina. And could you have possibly been prettier? Biased or not, I'm thinking no.

Happy Birthday To You: 21 Months Old

2009-11-05T20:22:00.015-05:00

Dear Anabella,

Last weekend you turned 21 months old. As per usual I am stunned by this amazing feat of amazingness. Every time the 30th of the month rolls around again, it hits me like a freight train, I HAVE A CHILD AND SHE IS XX MONTHS OLD. Just so happens that this month it's 21. Could be 25 years and I'd probably feel the same degree of shock and awe.

I have a million and one stories that I could tell about the crazy things you've done this month. The 200,000 ways you've made me laugh out loud. Or, I could list off all the accomplishments and milestones that you've crossed off the grand list of things that happen when you transform from an embryo into an actual walking talking human child . But I think this month I'll spare you the rambling, gushing, mother-is-so-proud speech. Instead, I'm going to let you do what you have learned to do best this month, speak for yourself.

Don't judge me for the weird things I have you repeat. I swear that they are all words and phrases that you say on your own accord all the time (including "Mommy's coffee," which this entire family knows is the single most important thing that happens to Mommy each day). But these are a selection of my favourite words and a) I wanted them recorded so I'll always have that sweet little baby voice to go back to when you are 16 years old and mumbling obscenities at me under your breath and b) I needed something to do in order to distract you from throwing your entire lunch to the dog.

In fact, these vids were recorded at the beginning of October. By now you are saying so many more words and phrases and singing so many songs that I'd be hard pressed to get a fraction of them on film. Besides, though you belt out songs and chatter up a storm on the regular, as soon as the camera appears you clam up and get a little shy and weird. This behaviour is not going to help you bring home the big bucks as a world famous movie/pop star. I'm just saying.

So concludes another busy month. All of the growing and talking and singing and SCREAMING "NO NO NO" at the top of your lungs and chasing Moet and not brushing your teeth EVER and throwing all your Cheerios on the ground and jumping but only getting one leg off the ground and having your picture taken 376,080 times is clearly exhausting stuff. As evidenced by this happening during your 21 month photo shoot:

Guess that's a wrap.

I love you,

Mommy

Happy Birthday to You: 20 Months Old

2009-10-02T12:33:00.022-05:00

Dear Anabella,

This week you turned 20 months old.

Sigh. I remember my 20's. They were fantastic.

September is one of my favourite months of the year for many reasons. First of all, it's my birthday month, though this one has crawled pretty far down the reasons-I-love-September ladder since I grew out of my aforementioned 20's.

Second, school starts! Even though I am no longer in school, haven't been for a long, long, long (you get the point) time, I still feel a little nostalgic thrill every year when school begins. I love the feeling of all the university students pouring back into the city and walking around U of T campus with their new clothes and glossy books. I love watching the teenagers on the bus, gossiping or sulking, on their way to class.

Third, the weather. September is the new summer. Though I was born on the last official day of summer, I consider myself entirely a summer baby. I LOVE summer, the hotter the better. For the last few years September has been the sunniest, warmest, most beautiful summer month. We always spend Labour Day weekend and some of the following week in Ipperwash, soaking up those final summer rays on that most incredible beach -- a beach that clears out after holiday Monday and becomes all ours and ours alone. It is the definition of happiness for me to be on that beach with nobody else but the people I love most in the entire world.

September is pretty close to perfect. But for the last couple of years we have had some tough times in this particular month. In 2007, when you were still safely tucked away in my belly, there was a terrible accident with Momo and we nearly lost him. Then last year, the unthinkable happened to a family that we know. It stopped me in my tracks for a while and still does, when I think of them, even now. So this year when September rolled around I found that I entered it not with my usual giddy sense of excitement and joy but instead with a sense of foreboding doom.

Like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like everything is too perfect. Too beautiful. Too happy. I find myself starting to seek out all the terrible things that could happen. To ready myself for them. Steel myself against them. Prepare.

But then, just when I feel like I've gotten lost in the fog, there shines my light. My impish, smiling, squishable light. I just need to watch you for a minute, just being you, and I realize why I get so anxious about the possibility of something terrible happening. It's because of the love. Every day I love you more. And the more that I love you the more I stand to lose. It's that simple. It's the risk that we all take when we decide to become parents.

You are 20 months old this week. One day you will be 20 years old. Can my heart hold 20 years worth of ever increasing love? Can it hold 60? I have to assume that it can because if there is one truth, one undeniable fact that I can share with you it is this, every second of every minute of every hour that goes by I love you more and more and more. And somehow my heart just expands.

If there is one thing that can make September -- that beautiful, complicated month -- even more perfect that it already is, Anabella, it's you.

I love you.

Mommy

Pictures of You

2009-09-14T09:03:00.007-05:00

Anybody out there ever had passport photos taken of their toddler? Can I borrow your ear for a moment and tell you that it is a NIGHTMARE to get a toddler to sit still for a fucking passport photo?

How about trying to do it at the local ghetto mall on a Sunday afternoon... with a hangover?

So here's the thing, I thought she'd just sit on the chair, stare blankly at the stranger with the flashing camera like she usually does when she's bored with my incessent photo-taken habit, and we'd be out of there after a few clicks.

WRONG.

They had to take about 2000 photos of Bella. Do you know what’s involved here in this passport photo business? Let me tell you. The baby can’t be smiling, crying, talking, moving or looking anywhere but directly at the camera lens. Their mouths must be closed, but not so closed that you can’t see the natural shape of their lower face. There can’t be any shadows behind their curly little heads of flouncy hair. You can’t see anything in the photo but their head and shoulders. This includes their arms and hands which means they need to keep them neatly at their sides while the photo is taken. They can’t be wearing white.

OH BUT WAIT… even if you finally get the shot, the one that fulfills all of the IMPOSSIBLE criteria, and causes the entire shop and the small crowd that’s gathered in the mall to watch this circus occur to break into loud applause, they will still go into the back room to look closer at the perfect picture and then come back out, head hung low with a sheepish grin, and tell you that the perfect shot that they thought they had will not work after all because HER LIPS ARE TOO SHINY.

I kid you not. Her juicy, perfect, glistening baby lips were too shiny. We had to de-shine our daughter’s lips.

But we finally got the shot. She's looking ever so slightly above the camera lens at the dangling set of keys that we were using to try to jingle-jangle her into some kind of a passport-photo-worthy trance. They assure me that they will reshoot the photo for free should it not be accepted. What they do not understand is that if it is not accepted I am going to go postal on the asses of everyone involved in the process. There won't be much need for international travel after that.

My own passport photo is truly hilarious because the expression on my face is 100 per cent indicative of the mood I was in while trying to suvive this particular parenting right of passage.

Survived it. And let me tell you something? We are going to be TRAVELLING OUR ASSES off now even if it puts us into a hole of debt so deep that we'll never again see the light of creditless day.

Happy Birthday to You: 19 Months Old

2009-09-11T20:38:00.018-05:00

Dear Anabella,

A week ago you turned 19 months old. And this month I can officially say that you are no longer my baby and are officially my toddler. TODDLER. You toddle. You are in the toddler room at daycare. You talk. In sentences. Small sentences, but still! Talking. Like a human-being. And all of it, all of it is BLOWING MY MIND.

I think for some reason, deep in the back of my brain, I had this notion that maybe you were content to just stay my baby forever. That I'd be carrying you around and listening to your incoherent, yet incredibly endearing, coos and gurgles for the rest of time. Like maybe I'd be taking you to college, strapped firmly and securely in your car seat, wheeling you to classes in your stroller and listening with glee as you met your dorm mate by grabbing a fist full of her hair and enthusiastically saying, "Baaabababa," with a slobbery toothless smile. Guess what? NOT SO.

In fact you are going to grow up to be a grown up person who is growing and continues to grow. I recognize that this is the preferred course of action and that it's not really desireable to have a college student who is still a baby. So why did it take me 19 months to grasp this concept? I blame hormones.

So many fun things to report on this month, but first there's this. We transitioned you to the toddler room at your daycare this month. AND IT SUCKED. For two full weeks it sucked so badly. You clung to me and you screamed for me when I left you in the mornings and you were out of sorts and cranky when we brought you home at night. It lasted two weeks and I cried every day when I left you there and I cried most of the way to work and I cried at work. It is pretty safe to assume that I did more crying than you. Much more.

I should note that about a week and a half into your transition, you got bit on the face by another baby. And I mean BITTEN. And it set you back a few days. Not surprising really, just look what the little cannibal did to your face:

Then, we reached the two week mark and I dropped you off one morning, and instead of screaming and clinging to my legs, you waved at your friends, said, "Hi Duncan!" and walked into your new room without so much as a backward glance at me. And we all applauded and cheered for you! And then you know what happened? I cried again. Shocking.

You have settled in beautifully now and I know that you are happy there. I know that it's so good for you to be there and I am incredibly, tremendously, enormously proud of you.

Your move to the toddler room also proved to be exactly what you needed to encourage you to become a full time walker. You're on the move, Child! It's still a bit shocking for me to see you just stand up and walk, this may be another concept that's difficult for me to grasp. Do not be surprised if you are 16 years old and I suddenly turn to you and say, "Bella, did you just WALK OVER HERE?" I'm slow on the pick up. Deal with it.

As amazed as I am by this walking business, hands down, bar-none, the most amazing, entertaining, and mind boggling thing you do right now is talk. You just say stuff. Stuff that is actually in ENGLISH and makes sense. Stuff like, "Peees" (please) and "Taaake Oouuu!" (thank you). And sentences like, "More pips, peees" (more chips, please) and "No! Momo! No!"

I can listen to your words five zillion times and never, ever tire of hearing them. There really isn't much that you can't say now, as long as we remain open to interpretation. Among my favourites this month: Bubbles! Pickles! Anabella (which, by the way, you like to say in a strange Frankenstein-like voice)! And instead of Mama, you now say, "MummEEE?" Just like that, like it's a question every time. And every time I hear it? You guessed it. My heart explodes.

You can count to three. You can fetch stuff and bring it to me. You can brush your teeth (though you hate it) and you can distinguish between the pink hat and the orange hat. You love shoes. No wait, more emphasis required with this one, YOU LOVE SHOES. You will sit and play with a pair of shoes for an hour. I'm not kidding. You love Moet. You can throw and kick a ball. I'm turning 34 in a few days and I still can't do that very well. I hate to use the term 'soccer prodigy' so early on, but I will because do you know how much money a professional athlete can bring in?!

This is all a long winded way of saying, Anabella, I love all of you. I love who you are becoming. I love watching you grow. I love anticipating what might come tomorrow. I love how every day with you is like a little gift, just waiting to be unwrapped.

I love you,

Mommy

Happy Birthday to You: 18 Months Old

2009-07-31T21:21:00.007-05:00

Dear Anabella,

This week you turned 18 months old. Just so we're clear, that's one year and one half of a year. Holy effing eff. Some amazing things have happened this month and I want to take time to write them all down for you, but it's late and tomorrow we're leaving on our family summer vacation. I've been sitting here for a while, contemplating what things I should select to jot down about this month and all I can come up with is HOLY EFFING EFF. I am the mother of a toddler.

A toddler who just today graduated from the infant room at daycare, complete with a graduation cap and little celebration party with all your baby friends and your lovely caregivers. A toddler who can say her own name and who knows all the pieces to her puzzles and can name all the characters on her diapers. A toddler who still loves to sing and dance, has made up her very own word for butterfly (Laalow!) and who, when tired and ready for bed, will look at me with her big sleepy eyes and say, "Bed, Mama."

A toddler who has grown to love her dog so much that first thing in the morning, when I lift you out of your crib and we share our morning hug and kiss will point towards the stairs and say, "Momo!" And I know that you can't wait to get downstairs and share your Cheerios with him.

But most importantly this month you became a toddler who can toddle! You are still not very steady and you hesitate to take more than a few steps at a time and always towards someone, never away from them. But you know what? I'm so proud of you. There is simply nothing in the universe that gives me more pleasure than watching you stand up all on your own, reach out your chubby and still babyish little arms and walk towards me all on your own. I know that so soon, well before I could ever be ready, you will be walking away from me. And of course, I want you to go forward with confidence, grace, curiosity and strength. But today I will relish in those teetering, toddling steps into my outstretched arms.

I love you,

Mommy

Say My Name, Say My Name

2009-07-26T20:19:00.004-05:00

You may have already seen this on Facebook, so feel free to disregard. It's just too cute not to document here as well.

It's amazing when your baby suddenly discovers that she has a name of her own. It's a tiny thing, in Bella's case it's even a tiny word, but it's a huge step towards discovering her independence.

It's Hip to be Square

2009-07-13T13:44:00.012-05:00

I recently posted about an illness that Bella went through that caused her to stop moving and have severe muscle/joint pains. Symptoms were a few days with a low grade fever, pain and discomfort whenever we moved her, no moving on her own at all, and severe pain and screaming/crying all through the night (very out of character for her). After about three days the fever was completely gone and started to regain movement, but continued to have pain in her right hip that lasted for just over a week and caused her to completely stop rolling over, pulling herself up to sitting, crawling, standing up, etc.

It was a terrifying ordeal for all of us and when her discomfort first started (it was mild at first, she only cried at night, but this was so unusual for her that I knew something was up), I took her to her pediatrician who examined her and found nothing. He told us it could be a stomach ache, or it could be constipation, which was what I initially thought it might be because I simply couldn't find anything else wrong but I knew that she was in some kind of pain.

The next day the fever kicked in, her pain clearly got worse, she screamed all night long in agony and we ended up going to the after hours Children’s Clinic on the Danforth (where I will NEVER go again – straight to Sick Kids for us from now on) and basically being told by the doctor that examined her that “everything was fine, it’s 'probably' a virus, and just to 'wait it out'). And because I didn’t know what else to do, I just listened to him and we waited. And waited. And I stressed and worried and cried in frustration every single day.

Thankfully, she did start to get better and we assumed that maybe she had just injured her leg somehow during her "illness" (which we still couldn't explain) and we missed her falling or spraining something and she just needed time to heal. Because her pediatrician was away for the full week after our weekend of hell, we didn't take her anywhere to follow up because I was adament that I would not go back to that clinic. By the time our doctor was back, his wait times were so long that we chose to cancel our appointment rather than put us all through the waiting, and waiting and waiting that would have to happen in order to get her checked out.

Recently a friend of a friend’s son came down with something that had very similar symptoms while they were away at a cottage. He was rushed to emergency where they did a number of tests and determined the illness to have something to do with a build up of fluid around the hip. When I heard about his symptoms and realized sounded exactly like what Bella had, I did some research and discovered that it was something called Toxic Synovitis.

I’m now almost certain that this is what Bella had.

I wanted to share it with all the parents I know because apparently it is something that’s fairly common in children aged 2 - 8 (though can occur in babies and older kids too) but so far I have not run into a single other parent that’s ever heard of it.

In hindsight I know that we should have been more persistent in finding a diagnosis. She should have had some tests done to rule out something more serious like septic hip or another bacterial infection, which can lead to permanent damage of the joint. It's just so hard when life gets in the way and I feel tremendous guilt over the fact that I avoided taking her to the doctor or hospital because it would have interfered with my work day. Instead I just "let her be" as advised by some quack doctor who could barely stand to look me in the eye or give me the 60 seconds it would have taken him to listen to what I had to say about her symptoms.

From now on I will not be concerned about seeming like a paranoid, first-time mom, or about missing yet another day of work because the baby is sick. It literally sickens me that parents are forced to make the decision between looking after a sick child or going to the office - especially since in too many instances the office wins. The pressure is enormous, the resulting guilt is crippling and the bank account is the only thing that wins. From now on Bella comes first, every time, over everthing, plain and simple.

If that's square, then I'm hip to be it.

Anyway – here’s some info about the illness in case one of your little ones ever suddenly stops moving, starts limping or showing signs of pain that you can’t find any evidence of. I should also stressed again that we did not ever get a diagnosis, this is a little bit of me playing Dr. Mom, but if it's not what she had, it's eerily similar, the symptoms are dead on:

http://kidshealth.org/parent/infections/bacterial_viral/toxic_synovitis.html

http://www.drgreene.com/21_1212.html

https://www.google.com/health/ref/Toxic+Synovitis

On a positive note, after about two weeks, Bella made a full recovery from her illness. She's slowly starting to build up more confidence and this past weekend at my mom's house she even took a few steps on her own walking from Nana's arms to Papa. This is the little trooper last weekend at the cottage - cruising around as if none if it had ever happened at all. We should all be able to forget and move on so easily, no?

I Hope You Dance

2009-07-09T19:53:00.006-05:00

I've spoken many times about my love of the super-cheesy Lee Ann Womack song, I Hope You Dance, and still defy any new parent (or old parent for that matter) to listen closely to the words without completely LOSING YOUR SHIT and crying for hours while clutching your child to your chest. Okay, maybe that's just me, but still.

I'm puffed with pride and swelling with love to know that when "she has the chance to sit it out or dance," my Bella chooses to dance every time.

She can't hear a beat, a strain of music, or even a repetative sound like the dryer or a train, without rocking and twisting and bopping her head. Bella has a beautiful voice and I love to hear her sing, but there's something so free and so primal about her need to move. I sincerely hope she'll continue to love music and dancing.

Many times after daycare, when we're all settling in for the evening, changing our clothes and getting ready for the bath, Bella will turn on the stereo in her room, crank the volume and do a little dancing to whatever music happens to be on. It's seriously the best. Here's proof:

Walk This Way

2009-06-24T20:42:00.006-05:00

If you read my last post you'll know that up until last week Bella has been more than happy to stay as close to the ground as possible and less than happy to be pressured into getting up on her chubby little gams and walking about unassisted.

Well you can imagine my surprise then when last Thursday evening I'm standing in our kitchen (and by kitchen, I mean the 10 square feet in my town house that we refer to lovingly as "the kitchen") preparing her dinner when I heard some hysterical baby giggles and glanced down just in time to witness this:

Only I was so shocked to see her cruising by on her own two feet, even stopping and making a leisurely turn when she ran out of floor space, that it took me a while to snap out of my shock long enough to grab the camera! I only captured those last few fleeting seconds, and despite my desperate begging and negotiating and bribing and coaxing she would not get up and do it again.

I'm telling you, the girl has got to do things her way.

Sadly, I really think that she was right on the cusp of walking on her own, but she got very ill the day after this happened. The illness has been a serious one and rendered her literally immobile for three full days. While most of her symptoms have dissipated by now (a full week later) she still seems to have considerable pain in her right leg or hip and she still can't get up on her own to a sitting position, crawl or stand.

Set back.

I'm hopeful that somehow during the worst of her virus she injured her leg and that it's nothing more sinister or long-term than a sore or sprained muscle. We have an appointment to check it out with her pediatrician on Friday morning.

Until then I'm hanging onto my memory of this funny, fabulous first - seeing my little girl come walking by as if she'd been doing it all her life. Way to go Bella - I knew that you could and would and will get up and go when you are good and ready.

Happy Birthday to You: 16 Months

2009-06-09T12:50:00.013-05:00

Dear Anabella,

I missed the boat on your 16 month post (it was over a week ago now) and now I'm playing catch-up. I feel like this is the perfect reflection of how, suddenly, our lives are barreling on full speed ahead and no amount of pumping the brakes is working to slow things down. It feels like I'm seat-belted into a fast car racing down the open road and all I can see are blurred landmarks and street signs spinning past the side view. No matter how hard I try to stop and focus on just one, squinting hard to try and make out what it is or what it says, I just can't. We're going too fast.

I always hoped that your infanthood would be more like a leisurely road trip. A journey that our family would take together, stopping often along the way to take in the view and enjoy the surrounding landscape. I never wanted to ever, ever look back and realize that I couldn't remember all the lovely places that we'd been. Thankfully, this journal, and my obsessive compulsive picture and video taking habit, will always remain a valuable road map of these most amazing times. But still, it's not the same. It's not the same as being able to enjoy the moment when the moment is happening. And for some reason, that has been hard for me this past month.

At 16 months old I am literally watching you shed your baby skin and blossom into a toddler (though still, no toddling, more on that later). At the end of a long day at work there is nothing more fabulous than seeing your face and waiting expectantly to hear the new word you learned, the new trick, the new gesture or song. I look forward to reading your daily reports and imagining you at the park with your friends, laughing in the sunlight, trying new foods, taking in all the sights and sounds in that special way that you do, so intensely that one can look into your eyes and almost see your brain absorbing every last detail, filing them away, learning.

At the same time, I'm saddened. I'm saddened that I'm missing so much. It sometimes catches me off guard when I hear you say something I've never heard before, "Apple," "More," "Meow!" and instead of feeling joy at what you can do, I feel tears hot and stinging at the backs of my eyes.

"When did you learn to do that? What did you just say? How did I not know that you knew?"

Somehow I raced right on by those discoveries, they passed by in a blur, and it's too late to turn around, slow down and catch them on the way back. Those first moments now belong to somebody else.

I know I've said so before, but the women who look after you during week at your daycare are fantastic. They are so good with you, so loving and kind. They are genuinely excited by all your discoveries and so although I get a little heartsick at missing out, I'm thrilled that they are encouraging and celebrating your developments each day.

If there was one thing that I would change about our daycare experience it would be for them to to simply allow you to slow down and do things on your own time. I find that they want you to grow up so fast. Their job is to encourage your development, I know, but it feels like no sooner have you accomplished something wonderful then they are pushing for the next and the next.

Cut out the bottles, sit in the chair to eat, no more soother, sleep on the cot not in the crib, give up the morning nap. It's not that I don't want you to do those things, of course I do, but I also don't want to pressure you. I want to relish in some of those baby things until you are ready to give them up on your own time, in your own way. Sometimes I feel like you are being rushed before you are ready and, because I'm your mother, I can sense you pushing back.

The biggest example of this is with your walking. Right now there is a lot of pressure on you - and on me - to get you to walk. I know that you are a little "late" on this "milestone," but I also know that you are developing normally and that when you are ready you will walk. You have made great strides (pardon the obvious pun) in the last few weeks.Climbing the stairs on your own, cruising the furniture like a pro, even taking the odd step holding only one of my hands. But for now, this is as far as you are ready to go. And I want you to feel proud of your accomplishments this month - and to know how proud I am of you.

Daycare would like you to move to the toddler room for July 1. In order for this to happen you need to be walking on your own. It's my feeling that you are not going to be ready to make that move by that assigned date. And I hate that there is this pressure on both of us to get you there. One of my goals as your mother is to always let you do things at your own speed, in your own way, on your own time. Anabella, you are incredibly smart, remarkably funny and spectacularly beautiful. I hope that you will always know these things about yourself.

So with my letter to you this month I'm pledging to do all that I can to simply slow things down. The summer is coming and I want us to enjoy the season together, slowly. Last summer was the best of my life. I can't give you that again this year, as sad as it makes me, but I can do my best to give you whatever time that I have and to be present and observant and devoted to seeing every landmark that lies along this winding road we're traveling together.

I love you.

Mommy

Happy Birthday to You: 15 Months

2009-05-02T09:37:00.011-05:00

Dear Anabella,

This week you turned 15 months old.

People say that April showers bring May flowers and I, for one, hope that they are effing right.

We got rained on an awful lot this month, if by rain we mean violent stomach flu - times two (you and Daddy) - a nighttime trip to the emergency children's clinic and a diagnosis of pink eye, a nasty cough and cold, and two new molars on the bottom that turned you into a child that we hadn't met before and aren't too sure that we want meet ever again.

This string of bad health meant that you could only go to daycare for 10 days out of the entire month of April. 10 days. Do you know what that means? That means $160 dollars a day. We probably could have stayed in a pretty decent hotel in The Bahamas for that amount. You now officially go to the most expensive daycare in the entire universe. Lucky you.

The thing about the daycare is though? Despite the fact that you like to rub noses with the boys and bring home cooties, they are actually teaching you an awful lot over there. So let's talk about the fun stuff for a moment. Dude? You can TALK! You've learned so many new words this month and it is so fun to discover your ever expanding vocabulary at the end of the day.

The difference of this month over last is that not only do you have all these adorable little words, but suddenly you are really making the connection to actual things. For instance you will see your little sun hat and say, "Hat!" while pointing to your head. Or you will point at your bookshelf, covered in the most amazing collection of teeny tiny footwear and say, "Shoes!" You are totally into accessorizing. We are so screwed.

You've also learned to string a couple of words together, like after your bath when we're putting away the little floaty toys you'll say, "Bye-bye fish," and "Bye-bye duck." Except instead of fish you kind of say, "Pipsh," but close enough and way cuter to boot.

While your vocab continues to grow day by day, I have to say you're a little delayed in the mobility category, much to the dismay of your teachers who have been putting a lot of time and energy into getting you to stand up and walk already! I know that they are a little concerned because, really? By 15 months most babies are not just walking, but running and climbing stairs and doing lunges and solving the quadratic equation.

You are having none of it. You don't stand unless someone puts you there and you have no choice. You are more than happy to zip around with your turbo crawl, where you are close to the ground and therefore very unlikely to fall down and hurt yourself. You can't quite figure out why you should get up and walk when clearly, if you just point at something you can't reach and yell, somebody will bring it to you. Or, if you need to get somewhere in a hurry, you can just put your chubby little arms in the air and cock your head just so and somebody will most certainly pick you up and bring you there. D'uh. Walk? Whatevs.

Your favourite things this month include books, especially the Baby Animals one that you would like me to read 100 times in a row every single day even though it's really got no words and I kind of can't stand it at all. Goldfish crackers ("caacoos") are a big hit. You continue to love food (though you did go about two weeks without eating because of the flu, which caused me to have a stroke every single day until you were back to normal). Hanging you upside down never fails to score us some awesome giggles. Sitting and gabbing quietly to yourself when you think that nobody is listening. And In The Night Garden, which you now watch every weeknight at 7:30 p.m. before bed. Every time you see Upsy Daisy, you blow her a kiss - "Mmmmwaaa" - and Mommy's heart explodes.

Sometimes when you are sitting, playing quietly or reading a book by yourself, I look over at just the right minute, you'll catch my eye and give me a knowing smile and in that second I see that my baby is leaving and this incredible, wise, funny little girl is taking her place.

I love you, Baby.

Mommy

Happy Birthday to You: 14 Months

2009-04-02T20:25:00.013-05:00

Dear Anabella,

This week you turned 14 months old. This has been a tough month, but believe it or not it has nothing to do the hectic pace of our life as a family with two working parents and toddler. March came in like a lion because your little Rah Rah, aka The Momes, aka Momo, aka Doy, aka Moet the family pug suffered a terrible injury in his back. As a result we've all been thrown out of balance, because though we are only three people, our family is really a party of four.

You have been such a huge part of these past 14 months (23 if you count the time you spent wreaking havock inside my midsection) and the impact that your presence has made in our lives is evident right here, in that I rarely have the inspiration, or time, to write about anything else. If there is one thing that we know about Moet, it's that he does not take well to the thought of becoming just another family pet. You have been my baby for just over a year now, but he has been my fur-baby for seven years. It seems this month he decided that he'd take back a little of the attention he's been missing out on -- by throwing out his back and demanding that we look down and take notice.

If there's is one thing that I never want to happen in our family, it's for one of us, any one of us, to hurt. This month, watching Momo in so much pain has been extremely difficult for me, for Daddy and unfortunately, as a result, for you too. Because although you are still too little to understand exactly what is wrong, you are more than capable of recognizing that something is. You can read our body language, pick up on our anxieties and absorb our sadness.

**Author's note: Monday April 6: This post has been interrupted by the stomach flu**

Touche my little Bella. It seems you are far wiser than I give you credit for. Just as I was about to dedicate my attentions - and one of your monthly updates - to the dog, you caught wind and decided to one up the little fur ball by catching the stomach flu and turning all eyes back to you. You are a clearly a master manipulator, young one. I will not make such a foolish mistake again.

You've just spent the weekend in the hazy, uncomfortable state of feverish flu. This morning you seem a bit better, except I'm still cleaning up more poop than I really care to mention and yes, you have successfully averted our attentions from your sick fur-brother.

I think in your sickness; however, your dad and I have had a chance to see how much you have developed this past month.

In your sleepy silence we realized how many words you have now, and we've longed each day to hear you say them. To be met by silence and quiet whimpers in the morning was jarring, since we've become so used to your incessant chattering and singing.

To see you lying listlessly in your daddy's arms all weekend, when normally you fight such snuggles in favour of being on the floor by yourself, free to move and explore, we realized how busy you've become. How curious and active.

To try to feed you only to be met by, "No, no, no, no..." has been so worrisome because usually you attack your meals with such zest and joy, happily feeding yourself and the dog (that's the last time I mention him, I swear, do not revolt!) and chit chatting all the while.

Otherwise, though, you've handled your sickness like a trouper. Though clearly unwell and unhappy, you continued to sleep through the night, take your medicine and not get yourself too worked up with tears and turmoil. I think today you are on the mend and I can't wait for you to feel better and to hear your happy little voice around the house again.

My favourite new word this month is "caaacooor." It means cracker, and I'll tell you what it cracks - me up! But I think that your most endearing and heartwarming Bellaism has got to be your word for Moet, "Rah Rah" (your adorable version of a barking sound) because it's always filled with love. And I could swear that lately, in Rah Rah's time of need, your little voice has even been filled with concern. You are truly a sweet soul, little one.

I love you,

Mommy

Happy Birthday to You: 13 Months

2009-03-09T20:36:00.010-05:00

Dear Anabella,

Last weekend you turned 13 months old. I wish I could be more timely with this post, but alas, time is precious, and often unavailable these days. Life has been tossed into turmoil with my return to work and every minute is busy with commuting, working, daycare, chores, feeding (so much feeding), errands and trying, whenever possible, to find a quiet moment to lie on the floor with you and simply drink in your babyness.

It is all going by so fast and this past month has been incredibly full of new developments, many of which are happening while you are away from me, with your new teachers and new friends at daycare. Hence, nobody can put into words the little person you are becoming better than your daycare family, who provide Daddy and I with amazing little snap-shots of your day-to-day life with "report cards" that we receive at the end of each day. Here then, are some comments from your teachers, too priceless not to share. And of course, my own take on what their "highlights of the day" and "teachers comments" really mean.

Feb. 26.
Teachers Comments: "She played with all her friends and liked when Duncan came to tickle her. She also laughed like crazy when Carter entertained her with funny faces."
My Take: Bella likes boys. The boys like Bella.

Feb. 25.
Teachers Comments: "She was not a fan of painting with a toothbrush. She hates to get involved in 'messy' art projects.
My Take: Bella has inherited your OCD.

Feb. 23.
Teachers Comments: "Bella is learning to hold the spoon to feed herself. We need to be doing this here and at home!"
My Take: Let her feed herself or you will be spoon feeding her when she is 15 years old. Babies are messy, let it go.

And some gems from her "monthly" social emotional, language, cognitive and motor report (ha!):

Social Emotional: Bella did a great transition from formula to milk. We would like to see Bella holding her own sippy cup. (Read: Bella is thirsty but lazy.)
Language: Bella enjoys clapping when we sing to her. This month we would like to see Bella repeating simple words and sounds. (Read: Your child loves to be entertained but isn't really that into things like, well, talking.)
Cognitive: Bella loves to knock over block towers. We are working on learning to stack two or more at a time. (Read: Bella knocks over everyone's towers and makes the other babies cry.)
Motor: We would like to see her work on pulling herself to standing using furniture. (Read: Again, quite lazy, this child.)

Truth is though, Bella, all joking aside, you have learned an amazing amount this month and we all have daycare to thank for it. Your teachers are so good with you and it's obvious that you love them, and all the other babies, very much. My heart swells with pride when I drop you off and see how happy and well adjusted you are. You certainly have come out of your shell, and I'm constantly amazed by what a complex little person you are becoming.

A few other noteworthy developments this month:

Teeth! You have two more, both on the top, and it has earned you your newest nickname: Fang.
Knee walking! You love to wander around on your knees, pushing your little walker toy. So cute.
Tantrums! That's right. You throw them. Especially if a snowsuit is involved.
The Cranky Blankie! You are fully addicted to your "security" blanket all of a sudden and though I know at daycare they want to limit your use of it, at home we just let you have it. I'm pretty sure that you will not be dragging it around when you are in your twenties. Right? You won't will you?

Finally, for your viewing pleasure, here's just a quick look at the feisty little destructor-baby you have become this month. Okay, maybe not quite, but you've definitely learned to let loose. On your blocks.

I love you.

Mommy.

Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend

2009-02-22T21:13:00.003-05:00

Four words.

Penelope Cruz's necklace. Damn.

And the dress. And the speech. And the... well... everything. Love.

Happy Oscar night.

I Will Survive

2009-02-16T14:32:00.008-05:00

Nobody said it would be easy, and everybody was right.

As of yesterday, my family has survived my first three full weeks back at work. I use the term "survived" loosely here, mind you. Here is just a quick smattering of the challenges we lived through these past three weeks.

1. Worst, most revolting stomach flu ever. This evil virus took me out on my SECOND day at the office and caused me to miss one and half days of work during my first week. Embarrassing yes, but luckily (?) I was too busy dying to care very much. Just as I pulled myself up out of bed and dragged myself back to the office, Crown went down. Typical. Somehow, amazingly, incredibly, unbelievably, Bella managed NOT to catch it. Thank you Karma, what did I do to deserve you?

2. Fatigue the likes of which I have not known since the earliest days after giving birth. These last three weeks have passed me by in a hazy fog of exhaustion. I suspect I will feel like this for the rest of my life. Super.

3. Ground Hog Day, the movie. I get it now. I've been up by 7 a.m. at the latest every day during the week and back in bed by 10 p.m. latest. Whatever happens in between those two times of day is a blur. I think that I wake up, shower, dress myself, dress and feed the baby, somehow get her to daycare, and then suddenly I'm home in the evening just in time to feed her again and then undress her and put her back to bed. Sometimes I get confused and I'm like, "Wait a second, are you getting up or going down? Didn't I just do this?"

4. Thank God for my office, it's the only place I get to sit down. No seriously. I never sit down at home. Unless I'm going to bed and that doesn't count. That's lying down. Most evenings I literally do not stop and enjoy a still moment for myself until at least an hour after Bella goes to bed. I move straight from my commute to prepping and feeding her dinner, into bath time, into cleaning up after her dinner, into bottle and bed routine, into tidying up after her, into prepping my stuff and hers for the next day, into laundry, into finally eating my own dinner, into cleaning up after my own dinner, into letting the dog out, into - at last - sitting for moment. Only to realize that it's nearly 10 p.m. and if I don't get into bed I'll never be able to wake up tomorrow. Rinse and repeat.

5. Teething and sniffles and coughs, oh my! That's right, she avoided the stomach flu that ravaged her father and I, but that doesn't mean she got off easy. Poor kid managed to pick up another cold, this one slightly less snotty than the last but with a savage cough that caused her to vomit on me a few times, including one early morning edition that necessitated last-minute outfit changes for both of us. She's also managed to cut two teeth and is working on at least three more, which we all know makes for a tired, itchy, fiery-cheeked baby with some major 'tude.

The saving grace of all this? Bella loves her daycare and comes home tired but happy. She's already learning so much from her teachers and the other babies. She's signing a lot and becoming a little more vocal and lot more feisty. It's like a litter of puppies in that infant room -- you learn to fight for your food and attention or you get left behind by the pack.

As for her father and I? Well. We're learning to fight for our food, too. It's just the way it's got to be for now. I took Family Day off (my company doesn't allow us the holiday, but our daycare was closed) and it's proved to me how much easier life would be for us if one of us had a four-day work week. We really need that one extra day to get errands and chores out of the way. Just one day a week would mean the difference between chaos and calm for my family. It would open up at least one day during the weekend for relaxing and spend time together. It's something to look into for the future, but for now I'm busy chasin' that paper. A few solid pay cheques are going to be really sweet after six months of basically nada.

The fact is that despite all of the bumps in the road, we have survived. I'm enjoying my work, Bella is enjoying her daycare, even Crown is feeling a little less stressed at the office. Though there are moments when I want to throw in the towel, there are many more where I feel proud of myself and my little family for pulling it off together.

Happy Birthday to You: 1 Year Old!

2009-01-31T22:46:00.022-05:00

Dear Anabella,

On Friday you turned one year old. I can’t say that this is the first time in my life I am speechless, because I’m afflicted with speechlessness often, but I can say that for the first time in my life I am wordless. Meaning, I actually cannot locate the words in my brain to send down into my fingers and put on this page.

I have thought and I have thought about how I can put what this feels like into words and all that happens in my brain is a quick and grainy lot of images flashing by like silent Super 8 movies, flickering across a lumpy backdrop, starting with the first moment I saw your face and ending with you tonight, sitting in your pretty party dress, surrounded by the people who love you the most.

One year. One magical, wonderful, life-altering year.

So I try to jump start my brain and it sputters to life with an image of me, lying in the hospital, just 366 short days ago, working very hard to bring you into the world. In case you’d like to revisit, it went something like this.

Then another flash and you are home. Your daddy and I, so used to our lives as two, are now three. And after mere days, we can’t imagine it ever having been any other way.

Flash! We are joined by another new life, a tiny, porcelain doll of a girl who I will quickly and seamlessly come to love like a second daughter. Olivia and Aunty Emily become fixtures in our year, rendering the experience twice as nice.

Flash again and it’s spring! Glorious and fresh, you and I are free to wander our city together, tourists in the place I’ve called home forever, but now, with you, everything is brand-new.

Summer arrives like a blinding flash, the sunlight glinting in your beautiful eyes as we laze about at the cottage, enjoying our time with Grandnana and exploring the beach that I love so much. To see you sit in the sand and splash in surf is a life-long dream of mine fulfilled. I’m choked at the image and need to pause. It’s my next dream that we might spend another summer like that, together, before you are too old to want to be there alone with your family.

Suddenly it is fall. Your Aunty Emily and I are running through High Park with you girls in your strollers. We are laughing one minute out of sheer fun, and tearing up the next as we realize how fleeting these precious moments are. Sitting in the fading warmth, sipping coffee and talking about how this moment, right here, can only happen like this once. I look into her eyes and am so grateful to have her, someone who really, truly understands.

Flash! You are sitting. Flash! You are crawling. Flash! It’s Christmastime already?

It’s a joyous holiday, your very first Christmas, just another in the infinite and awesome list of firsts that I have tried diligently to capture for you here, but really I have only scratched the very surface. The holidays come and go in a blink and suddenly it is upon us. January.

A new year and the final month of your first year. It’s a time I have been anticipating anxiously for months and suddenly it is upon us. Flash. I am leaving you behind at the place that will become your new home during the week. I walk out of that daycare for the first time without you and am so overcome with pride at how easy you have made it, so overcome with sadness about how much I will miss you, so overcome. I have to sit in the lobby for several minutes just gathering myself and wondering – where do I go now? What do I do without you?

Imagine? One year. In one year I am lost when you’re not by my side.

Flash! It’s today. And you are the most beautiful little person I have ever seen. All dressed up in your party clothes I see you in a new light. My baby, my tiny little bundle of feet and fingers and wrinkled parts has become this sweet, thoughtful, funny, loving, curious, most amazing little girl. One part daddy, one part mommy, but so many parts just you.

Happy birthday Anabella. How lucky we are that this is just one - another incredible first - of so many more yet to come.

I love you,

Mommy.

Little Shop of Horrors

2009-01-20T22:21:00.006-05:00

Have you ever caught someone else's vomit in your bare hands?
Have you ever looked lovingly at your significant other as he/she said, "I tried to help her by sucking the snot out of her nose with my mouth."?
Have you ever sat upright in bed all night with a small body lying face down on your chest, just to make sure that the body kept breathing?

If you answered yes to any of the above then you:

a) Had even more fun during your party years than I did.
b) Work for some kind of sanitarium, asylum, or zoo and are currently looking fiercely for alternate employment.
c) Are a parent.
d) All of the above.

Guess which one is me?

Last week Bella spent two hours -- no I did not mistype that -- two HOURS, not days or weeks, at her new daycare and came home with the plague. It started slowly last Thursday and promptly developed into the most disgusting cold you've ever seen and quickly and efficiently spread to infect anyone and everyone who came within a 20 foot radius of our home. I swear even the dog is sneezing.

I am not sure I can adequately express what it feels like to have kept my baby impeccably healthy for almost an entire year with thankless activities like...

- endless hours of breastfeeding
- incessant hand washing to the point where my skin is literally flaking of in chucks on my formerly beautifully manicured hands
- the constant wiping of multiple surfaces with Lysol wipes
- boiling things that I never thought could or should be boiled
- making my own food using organic, fresh ingredients

...only to take her to daycare for TWO hours and have all my hard work, cautious behaviour and more than my fair share of finger crossing, fall to the mercy of four other snotty-faced babies and a room that probably hasn't seen the likes of a Lysol wipe for many months. Or ever.

Guess what Germs? YOU WIN. I am pulling out my wipes and waving them like the white flag.

I have seen more snot in the last five days than I have during my ENTIRE LIFE. I have watched my beautiful, perfect, happy, charming baby turn into a hot mess of tears, red eyes, crusted nose, snot covered hands and hair. I have let her put her disease infected fingers in my mouth just because it made her smile for a nanosecond and then fallen prey to an illness that I simply don't have time to wallow in.

And now? I. Give. Up. She has just, after six days of hell, gotten back to something slightly resembling her former self, and guess where she's going tomorrow? That's right. Back to the cesspool. Because Mommy needs to go shopping for "back to work" clothes that she's never actually going to get to wear because she it seems she is going to be home ALL THE TIME with a sick, sad, snotty baby.

I'm waving my wipes, people. Man, she's so lucky she's cute. I bet even you would catch vomit if it were coming out of this:

How Long Do You Want to Be Loved?

2009-01-14T15:04:00.001-05:00

During the first few months of my pregnancy I continued my regular yoga practice, vowing that I'd be able to keep up with my usual group rather than switching to the prenatal class. I thought that I was just that strong. About three months in I caved. Ashtanga was kicking my bloated, nauseous ass and I was spending more time lying on my mat trying not to vomit than I was in downward dog.

Prenatal yoga seemed like a joke for the first little while, but before long it became as challenging for my swollen, heavy body as my regular, sweaty class ever was. Also, I began to love it.

I loved being surrounded with other moms-to-be, almost all were first-timers like me. I loved looking at the rounded bellies, bursting with life and imagining what all the little people inside were up to. I loved the soothing voice of my instructor who also happened to be a doula and who would share her various birth stories with us at the beginning of every class. I loved the hour and a half of dark, warm silence and calming breath.

The final five minutes of class were always dedicated to the women in the room who were closest to delivery and who might not be back next week because of their newly arrived babies. At first this ritual seemed a little too silly and new-agey for me, I would squirm through it in discomfort, but by the time it was my turn to sit in the centre of the circle surrounded by women and candlelight I was converted. I took their blessings to heart and I thought of them as I gave birth to my daughter, one week early. I thought how lucky I was that I'd received my send-off circle early because my instructor was going to be absent the following week.

But what I loved about that class, more than anything else, was Savasana. This quiet period of rest at the end of our practice, also called Corpse Pose for you non-yogis, was always accompanied by a wonderful massage for each of us by our instructor and set to a beautiful song called "Lullaby" by the Dixie Chicks. Yes, the Dixie Chicks. Yes, I love them. Shut up.

At the time I just loved how soothing the song was, I could tell that it was a love song, I got that it could easily be a song sung by a mother to her child, but remember, I didn't have a child yet. So I didn't quite get it. Then, after I had Bella, I continued to listen to the song and it did start to have greater meaning, a deeper significance, I was often moved to tears as I sang it to my baby girl before her morning nap.

And then my year at home with my daughter began to draw to an end.

Yesterday I took her to daycare for the first time. I spent two hours there with her in the afternoon and we both had a really good time. The caregivers are wonderful and the babies are spectacular. Bella loved them all and I could tell that she is really and truly going to enjoy being there with them during the week. But the fact that she is going to be fine, something I have been telling everybody who asks and myself for weeks now, does not mean that I am going to be fine with it. I am going to miss her. I am going to miss her so much that my heart is literally sore at the thought of it. It is time for me to let her go and I am not ready.

And so when I put our favourite "Lullaby" on this afternoon so that we could cuddle and sing together before her afternoon nap, I was smashed into pieces by the song. I suddenly understood it in a way that I never had before. Because they have nailed it. They have nailed it because they are mothers too and this heartbreaking experience of leaving my little girl after our magical year together is not unique to me. I have yet to meet a working mom who doesn't understand how this feels.

Because just like these three country singing mamas, my life began when I saw her face. And tomorrow there will be so much to do, so tonight I'll drift in a dream with you.

If you don't already know the song, here are the lyrics, but they are so much better when you hear them for yourself, so if you can bury the country music prejudice for a few moments, give it a listen:

"Lullaby"

They didn't have you where I come from
Never knew the best was yet to come
Life began when I saw your face
And I hear your laugh like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never never giving you up

I slip in bed when you're asleep
To hold you close and feel your breath on me
Tomorrow there'll be so much to do
So tonight I'll drift in a dream with you

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up

As your wander through this troubled world
In search of all things beautiful
You can close your eyes when you're miles away
And hear my voice like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up

Happy Birthday to You: 11 Months Old

2009-01-05T10:57:00.017-05:00

Dear Anabella,

Last week you turned 11 months old. The day came and went quietly, nestled in between and over-powered by the bigger, splashier holidays that the month of December is famous for. In true Bella fashion, you sailed through the holidays with grace and contemplative good-spirit, for the most part, and it would have been easy to forget this significant 'monthday' if it weren't for my own obsession with documenting each one. This one is so significant because without any fanfare or dramatics, despite the festive season, you reached your 11th month and silently slipped into the last full month of your first full year. Just like that. Just like that your infancy is drawing to a close as you crawl carefully and curiously toward toddlerhood.

The month of December was full of excitement and amazing firsts, both thrilling and terrifying. Christmas is the obvious one. Your very first Christmas. It was so fun, wasn't it? As I told the many people who asked if I was excited for your first Christmas, "Yes - it feels like my first Christmas too." It totally did. We were lucky enough to celebrate not once, not twice, but three times and see almost your whole family. Everyone looked at the holiday through brand-new eyes this year - your big, round, hazel eyes.

You soaked in the sights, sounds and controlled chaos in your own, special, stand-offish fashion. Quietly taking it all in and waiting until you felt comfortable and secure before letting your guard down and opening yourself up. Although it took a few tries, once you grasped the concept of presents you decided that anything in shiny paper belonged to you and needed to be opened immediately. But like your mom, you took it slow, enjoying the unwrapping bit by bit instead of tearing into the gift and tossing it aside for another without even appreciating what was inside. A valuable and honourable trait that you possess even before the end of your first year and only one of the millions of things that makes you such an incredible person.

This month we also survived your first illness. The sudden onset of a high fever that made you miserable of course, and sent me into a fairly huge panic. I'd been dreading the first illness since the day your were born and as horrible as it was for all of us, it's almost a relief to have it under our belts. At least we know that we can survive it. That we can pull together and get you (and me) through it without too much overreaction and mayham. I still don't know what caused the illness because besides the fever, which reached as high as 39 degrees at one point, you had no other signs of being sick whatsoever, but I do thank my lucky stars for your father - who played it cool and kept us both as calm as possible -- and for Tylenol.

Finally, this month was all about communication. You are learning so fast now and it really sunk in this month that you can 'talk' to us using your own little language and a lot of hand signals. I sometimes back to your first smiles and how I thought that it simply couldn't get any better than that. A smile, a physical cue to show me with a little twitch of your face that you were in there, thinking, and that you felt joy. Imagine then how I feel today when you look right at me with your sparkling, glinting eyes, wave your chubby hand in my direction and say clearly and joyfully, "Hi!" Your first 'real' word. Excuse me while my heart explodes into a million shards of pure bliss.

You can also tap your fingers together at meal time, your sign-language way to ask for "more." You will say, "Rahrahrahrah," when you see the dog, your version of barking, and if I start singing Amy Winehouse's 'Rehab' you shake your little head, "No no no." By far your favourite communication trick, and mine, is to point at someone you love until they point back at you -- our family's special way to say "I love you!"

Well Little Girl, know this, I'm pointing at you every second of every day, whether you can see it or not.

I love you,

Mommy

All Is Quiet on New Year's Day

2009-01-01T09:24:00.009-05:00

Though not nearly as quiet as it would have been, say, last year. Or any year other than this one. Because on previous new year's days I'd be sleeping right now. Snuggled under a warm blanket, nursing a hangover and looking forward to a lazy day of junk food and movies.

This year I was roused at 8 a.m. after a brief four hours of sleep by the peepish coos and chit chat of my baby chicken in the next room. And that sound! Instead of burying my head under the pillows and throwing my slippers at the door, I got up out of bed and eagerly went to her. The fresh-faced smile and tight clingy grasp of our morning hug was the better than an Alka Seltzer and an Advil.

And now -- although she had a full twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep and restful day yesterday that did not begin with Caesars for breakfast and end at 4 a.m. with pot-infused truffles -- my little one seems more hung over than I am. Her uncharacteristic crankiness might be preventing me from writing the witty 2008 wrap-up that I'd hope to get down, but it is in its own way a gift, allowing me instead to put her down early for her morning nap and crawl back into bed myself.

And that in itself is symbolic of the kind of year it's been. A huge, all-encompassing, life-altering, doozy of a year where every challenge, every long and sleepless night, every meltdown, every labour pain, every tear, every tooth, every poop-smeared minute was, in fact, a beautiful gift just as long as I looked at it the right way.

Happy New Year to each and all. May you find as much love in life's grumpiest moments as I have learned to find during this last, most incredible, year.

Clap Your Hands

2008-12-16T11:31:00.004-05:00

It seems my family has developed a serious case of the clap.

And the best part? Is how only Bella gets even remotely shy about how hilarious she looks once the camera starts rolling. Heh.

We Don't Need Another Hero

2008-12-16T11:11:00.003-05:00

Except we do. We can all use another one. And after seeing Tina Turner live in concert this past Friday at Toronto's ACC - I've got myself a new one to keep at the top of my list.

I could do all kinds of raving about the show itself here, but I think my beautiful and hilariously insightful friend Nadine, aka Scarbie, has already summed it up about as perfectly as can be, so go and read her spot-on review here.

I'll just leave it at this; my Besties are all heros to me in there own unique way and I'm so glad that we all got to take a time out from our too-busy-to-see-each-other-as-much-as-we-should lives to spend a few precious, glitter and stiletto filled hours together, soaking up the inspiriation that literally pours out of Tina Turner. I bet we've all felt a little prouder, walked a little taller, and sang a little louder since.

Old MacDonald Had a Farm...

2008-12-08T17:46:00.005-05:00

...and on his farm he had a dog... or something kinda close to it anyway...

Happy Birthday To You: 10 Months Old

2008-12-06T19:24:00.024-05:00

Dear Anabella,

You have successfully made it to your double digits (monthly-stylez). Awesome. I am so proud of you and clearly you are entirely proud of yourself as well:

In honour of the big 1 - oh, we're going to do this month's wrap-up Top-10 style.

10. Mama
This month I have said it 5 hundred million, trillion times. You have said it zero times. I'd like to say that means that I win, but it totally means that you win.

9. Daycare
Your father and I have secured you a spot in a very classy joint up the street and this means that we will not have to leave you under the care of Moet in the new year when I go back to work. Believe it or not, this is a good thing. Moet is fun and all but he sucks at making lunch and he'd much prefer to eat your dirty diapers rather than to change them. So lucky you. As for me? I'm having a HEART ATTACK.

8. GT's in The 'Wash
And by by GT's I mean Good Times. And by The 'Wash I mean Ipperwash. And so why don't I just say what I mean? You, me, my mother and her mother spent a wonderful, snowy week in Ipperwash this month. It was the last time that we'll be there this year and that makes me sad, but I'm so glad that we braved the snow storm and made it up there one more time. This leads nicely into...

7. Grannana
Bella, you LOVE your Grannana. She literally can't enter the room without you bursting into a huge smile and contorting your body any which way to get a look at her. I can understand it, she's a funny chick, she's been making me laugh for 33 years and I'm just so happy that you have had the chance to get to know her so well, and love her so much, this year.

6. Obsession #1: The Dog Bed
I know that in comparison to many babies, you are actually very neat and tidy. You are not; however, so neat and tidy say in comparison to me. This month you have really started moving, and with moving comes exploring. And with exploring comes obsessions. At least with your genetic make-up it does. Obsession #1? The dog bed. More than once this month I have looked down from whatever I'm doing (most likely cleaning something) to find you sitting in the middle of Moet's bed chewing on his bone and looking smug. Thankfully my first instinct so far has been to grab you out of there and wash your mouth out with soap and not to run directly for the camera.

5. Obession #2: DVDs
As soon as you started really motoring your first destination was the TV bench. Not surprising what with all the remotes and boxes with glowing clocks and little buttons for your to push, rendering our entire entertainment center completely useless until your father gets home. But more even than the buttons, you wanted the DVDs. I quickly ransacked our collection, ruthlessly tossing out the crap and packaging all the "keepers" into tidy boxes, alphabetically of course, so that you wouldn't be able to get at them. Except that a) I'm an IDIOT if I think that I can keep you away from the mecca of baby entertainment with a few stupid boxes and b) you are not concerned with the rules alphabetization AT ALL.

4. The Month the Warranties Ran Out
Not one but TWO of your favourite baby toys fizzled out on us this month. Your beautiful Pottery Barn Kids mobile stopped moving and making music early one morning while I was desperately cranking it in an attempt to get you back to sleep. And then oh horror of horrors, Glow Pooh, died too. He no longer glows or sings. Both are so sad for me because they are great reminders of your tiny, tinyness, but also because they have been priceless in helping you settle in at night and get to sleep. I'm going to let the mobile go (boohoo) because soon I'll have to take it down anyway, but I think you can expect to get a replacement Pooh under the tree.

3. Baby Bird
This month you remain completely uninterested in feeding yourself unless it's a cookie or Cheerios. Anything off of a spoon, out of a bottle or out of a cup MUST be fed TO YOU in a timely fashion. You will sit and stare at me patiently with mouth agape for several hours if need be, as long as I have food and a spoon in my hand. It's super cute though and looks like this:

2. Lasts
I've often said that watching you grow is a never ending flow of "firsts." Everyday there is something new and amazing. Sadly, though, on the flip side of that there are also a lot of "lasts" as you watch a baby grow. This month we have had a very big one. This month was your last full month of nursing. I'm trying to be funny this month, because there is enough going on that's making me cry, but there's not much funny about this one. It was simply time. It was as much your decision as it was mine, you were tired of it, preferring instead to take a bottle while watching the world around you. I wanted you to be weaned before my return to work and we had whittled our nursing down to a precious and wonderful once per day, always in the morning. That first, tender 15 minutes each day when you were still warm and sleepy, cuddled against me as we both woke up together was one of the highlights of my day and I'd decided that I'd let you continue, if you wanted, even after I went back to work. Then suddenly you just stopped. You'd had enough. I can't even remember our last time and it's just as well. I want to remember all the thousands of times before that one anyway. Great. Now I'm crying after all.

1. Crawling
Let's end this on a high note. This month you have learned to crawl. Full-on, official, forward motion crawling. You started just before you hit the 10 month mark, and you're still a little wobbly in the video below. But since this was taken you have it mastered and though you are still cautious, you are fast. It's time to get up those gates and pack up my belongings... the baby is on the loose.

Happy 10 months BellyBella. You are the bomb.

Love,
Mommy

Get Up, Stand Up

2008-12-01T11:15:00.010-05:00

Last week I left my daughter on the floor of her bedroom to play with some toys while I ran upstairs and tossed in a load of laundry. I do this a lot. She crawls around a little, plays with toys, torments the dog, who is never too far away, but never too close either. She may get her legs stuck under the crib, or find her way to the remote control for the stereo. Nothing too crazy.

This time though, when I popped my head into her room a few minutes later to see what she was up to, I found her doing this:

OMFG.

I'm not sure that she really understood what the big deal was because when I started to scream and cry and dive around madly for the camera, all the while mumbling to myself about "dropping down the crib mattress" and "great now I have to move the liquor bottles to higher ground," she just stood there and stared at me like this:

Working 9 to 5, What a Way to Make a Living

2008-11-28T16:50:00.026-05:00

I have made it a strict personal rule NOT to discuss my "real," and by that I mean "paying," job on this blog. Not only am I heeding the strong advice of those who have done so before me and been seriously scalded for it but I also feel that this blog is my personal outlet and I want to keep it separate from my professional venting. My professional outlet for venting usually comes in the form of a dark pub, a few good colleagues and a hefty helping of pints. Nothing in writing, nothing recorded and more often than not, nothing much remembered the next morning. Heh.

These days; however, as my maternity leave draws to a close and my return to my "real" job becomes more and more of a fast approaching reality, I'm having a harder time separating it from my personal existence. The 9 - 5 life has been far from my mind for close to a year, and suddenly it's there again, in the back of my mind, day in and day out as I begin to prepare myself, and my family, for its inevitable return into our daily lives. Thus, I felt like a quick post on the subject of "working," in the 9 - 5 format, rather than the 24/7 format as I've become accustomed to this year, might be in order.

Let me start by saying that I have a fabulous job. I've been doing it for seven, that's right, seven years now. Working at the same company over the past seven years I have been through many, many ups and downs, experienced much laughter and more than a few tears, met and become dear friends with some of my favourite people on earth; like her and her just to give you the tip of the iceberg. Over the years I have faced some great challenges at this job, seen an awful lot of change and worked with people that I didn't exactly, um, vibe with, to put it mildly.

The great news is, after all these years and all the challenges, I believe that right now, my department is filled with the absolute best team of people you could put together to be doing what it is that we do. It is an exciting time in my industry and because of those two things - the team and the climate - I am excited to go back in a couple of months.

Excited and terrified.

I have literally grown up with my company. I was a mere, childish, 26 years old when I started there, still partying all night and trying to pull it together for the office the next day. It's safe to say that I have seen great personal and professional growth at this job. I've learned an amazing amount about both the industry that I work in and about myself. But frankly, I don't think I really learned anything about my personal and professional priorities until I had Bella.

Naturally, Bella has changed everything. This past year at home with her has been the greatest, most incredible year of my life. I have never been more exhausted, more challenged, more inspired, more fulfilled, or more happy, ever. While I know for sure that I would not be happy as a permanent stay-at-home mom, that I need and want to continue working and living my professional life, I also know that today more than ever before my work/life balance will be of the utmost importance.

I understand now, suddenly, why women hit the glass ceiling. Because once you have a family there's in instant and important shift that happens. Suddenly time becomes much more valuable than money. And for some reason, some very unusual and unexplainable reason, most companies (mine included) are more willing to give you increases in wages, professional promotions, and high percentage monetary bonuses than they are to give you flextime, vacation time or family time. And God forbid you aim to have both monetary success and personal time? Both a high level position and an equal work/life balance? It simply isn't possible and sadly it's women who time and time again sacrifice either their career goals or their time with their kids in order to achieve some mediocre level of satisfaction at one or the other.

Time. A concept that seemed so simple before. But today, when I think about time, I feel an instant tightening in my chest, a quickening of my heart and a squeezing on my soul. Beginning at the end of January, my time, my precious time with my baby girl is going to be greatly reduced. She will be going to daycare full-time and I will be going to work. She will be learning and growing, taking first steps and speaking first words, with her new care-givers. I will be building websites. Instead of spending my days with her, teaching her, raising her, loving her, I'll be spending my valuable time behind a computer screen while she learns and grows in the hands of somebody else.

And it breaks my heart. So much about it breaks my heart. I'm looking at her happy face right now, as she plays quietly on the floor, happy and secure in our daily routine. She has no idea that very soon it will all be turned upside down and inside out. That we will move beyond this magical year and begin a life that means we spend two days a week together and three, measly weeks of harried and too short vacations. That breaks my heart. It also breaks my heart that the company that I've loved, worked hard for, been so loyal to for so many years, doesn't have any options that would allow me to do both the job that I love for them and the job that I love for her.

Of course, it's not really about me, or about the company that I work for. This is very much a systemic issue. It's about our society. Sadly, we live in one where children and childcare are not valued.

We can see it in the lack of affordable childcare options. My daughter's daycare is going to cost my family the equivalent of the mortgage that we pay on our house. Because I am not able to work a reduced work week, we could not afford to have a nanny come to our home. A full-time, live-out nanny costs between $3000 - 4000 per month! As a result, full-time daycare is my only option. This means my daughter will get sick more often, and I'll likely miss more days at work because of it. And I'm one of the lucky ones because, though it will be very tight, I can afford to send my daughter to this daycare.

We can also see it in our private sector and how unwilling companies are to step outside of the box and start to give their employees access to flexible hours, shared jobs, reduced work weeks, extra vacation time and the like. It's not even enough to have these options available, but they need to be available to workers at all levels and for a variety of reasons. Not just for parents, but for anyone who has an interest in having a true work/life balance. Artists, actors, travelers, writers, adventurers, care-givers, young and old.

But there is a dim light glowing at the end of the tunnel.

I have spoken to many, many new mothers this year. Professional, intelligent, hard-working mothers who do not want to give up their 9 - 5 jobs, but also feel, as I do, that their children deserve more of their time. And these moms ARE finding flexibility. Four day work weeks at reduced salaries, extended maternity leaves and unpaid vacation time seem to be the most common solutions, to a lesser extent job sharing and work-from-home options are starting to become more common. Today's Parent recently published their annual list of the 20 most family friendly employers, along with an article about making your job family friendly.

Granted, a lot of these family friendly employers are in the public sector, an area that is considerably more advanced in these matters than the private one. But it is starting to change. I know that there are private sector jobs out there that will work with you, instead of just around you.

My employer doesn't offer flexibility to parents or otherwise. It's a huge company, traditional and set in its ways, and though I love my job dearly, I can't say I'm not disappointed at the lack of creative solutions that are offered. As I said before, it's not that I don't love working, it's just that I love my daughter more. It's not that I don't want to go back to my job, in fact I truly do. I miss my colleagues and the work itself, the creative outlet it provides for me, the way it stimulates my brain and challenges me to learn. It's just that I want to have a bit of wiggle room to divide my precious time with my professional family and my personal one. And, it's just that like every working parent out there, I'm struggling with how the hell I'm ever going to manage to do it all.

Happy Birthday to You: 9 Months Old

2008-11-06T10:15:00.013-05:00

Dear Anabella,

I think your development this month has finally surpassed my ability to adequately document it. Until this month it was relatively easy for me to pick out one or two significant things to talk about. 'Slept through the night,' for example, or 'giggled for the first time.' Around six months it might have been, 'ate her first solid food' and then, 'said Dada one hundred thousand times but has not said Mama or anything even close to it.' Yeah. That's right. Still haven't.

This month the most obvious and amazing development is how physical you have become. You sit up incredibly well and keep your balance, correct yourself and move all over the place on your bottom. You've learned to do this little baby-creep that I like to affectionately call the Bella Butt Shuffle. The Butt Shuffle is a strange thing because honestly, I'm not even sure how you do it? All I know is that I can put you down in one place, turn my gaze away for a minute or two and when I look back you are somewhere else. It's amazing, but it has also made my life just a little bit more difficult. No more leaving you alone on your playmat while I jump in the shower. These days it's got to be crib-jail for you.

You've also mastered the art of pulling yourself through from sitting up onto your hands and knees. While you are not quite moving forward in a traditional crawl you are a mere days away from doing it. You like to get into the crawl position and rock back and forth, just waiting for the right moment to take off. And while part of me waits anxiously for you to take those first few forward movements, I also recognize the shocking significance.

Pretty soon you'll be deciding where you want to go, and when. It's something that I'll have to stand back and watch happen for the first time, and then forever more. And of course I want you to always move forward with confidence, but there is a little part of me wants you to stay right beside me, clutching on to my neck for support like you do when you are sleepy and relying on me for balance and guidance. Only nine months and already I have to start to let you go?

That's what being a parent is really all about. It's about creating these tiny creatures that you quickly grow to need so desperately, and then giving them all the tools they need to one day, confidently, leave you behind.

So, although for you, this month has been about getting bigger and moving forward, the developments that I cherish most this month are things that remind me that you are still a baby. You have taken to sucking your thumb at night, after the soother has long been tossed aside. I know that many people hope their kids will never do it, but it's so precious and it also allows you to sooth yourself when you wake up, instead of needing Daddy or I to run in and put you back to sleep.

You are becoming incredibly vocal and though you always clam up in the presence of strangers, when it's just you and I you will babble for hours. It's so beautiful to listen to, this baby language. And you have the sweetest little voice. Never too loud, always lilting and pretty, you're experimenting more and more each day with pitch and sounds and words. There is nothing, besides your incredible laugh, that I'd rather listen too.

Finally, your love for music continues to grow. You sing yourself to sleep at nap time and hum softly in your stroller while we walk. When we are in the car together, I can hear you quietly chirping away and it comforts me to know that you are secure and happy back there alone. When I break out in song, no matter how serious or silly, you break out in smiles. It's all the encouragement I need and so I find that because of you I am singing all day long. It's one of my greatest pleasures.

And this month, along with the singing, you have also started to dance! Oh mother of all things cute. The music starts and off you go, rocking away to the beat, either on your bum or on your hands and knees. And, Girl? You've got rhythm! I've tried to capture you on video a few times, but you always play shy. Here's the best I could do so far:

Bella, you have now been on the outside of my body for as long as you were inside of it. I have been madly in love with you for 18 months now and every day, every single day, I love you more. You are my pride, my joy, my inspiration.

I love you.

Mommy

Let's Be Friends, We'll Do Things Together...

2008-10-30T09:25:00.006-05:00

Things like, oh I don't know, knock each other over, pull each others' hair and grab big handfuls of face. Ouch.

But really though, Bella and Olivia are true buds and it's an amazing thing to watch a friendship develop from the very, very beginning. Stay tuned for more...

Falling

2008-10-28T21:21:00.013-05:00

Have you ever had one of those days? Wait. Don't answer that. I already know that, yes, of course you have had one (hundred) of them. But still, would you mind indulging me for a few minutes to listen to mine?

I'm trying to be careful these days about complaining about silly, superficial "problems" like, "my baby woke up four times last night and then by way of thanks for comforting her with boob at 4 a.m. decided to bite my nipple off." In light of some recent tragedies I really do understand that these things are part of life and I should suck it up and deal. And I do. Really, I think I do deal with these little things with as much grace and humour as my tired body and mind will allow.

But today? Oh, please. Let me complain about today! I promise I will end the rant on a light note and bring it all back to the silver lining, cool?

It all started with a trip to Bella's doctor. He is located in a swanky part of town, so I took extra care to put myself together, wearing not only my favourite jeans but also a cute pair of shoes with a little heel and everything. I even put on lip gloss. I managed to get myself and my baby ready, out of the house and all the way to the parking lot behind the office before things started to fall apart.

The parking lot was under major construction, but I took it all in stride. I couldn't park in the underground lot because according to signs that I actually managed to read, the elevator was not working and I wouldn't be able to hoist Bella in her stroller up all those flights of stairs. So I waited patiently for a coveted outdoor, street level spot. And I got one! And I was on time! I loaded her into her stroller, bundled her up (it was a cold and very windy day in Toronto today and she was a little under-dressed for it I'm afraid) into the stroller and detoured the long way around to avoid the dangers of the construction site.

I made it to the office just on time and unbundled her, carried her in to the office and proceeded to take off her sweater and hat and shoes. We are all ready. The nice nurse was working and looked at me weird but I thought nothing of it. After a while I realized I wasn't getting called so I went up to the desk and said, "Hi. Anabella is here, just so you know. No rush." She glanced at the charts in front of her and then gave me what would be the first of the oh-you-poor-frazzled-over-worked-under-rested-woman looks of the day. If you are a mom, you know the look that I mean.

"I'm glad that you made it," she said to me with a sympathetic little smile, "but your appointment was yesterday."

Then I died a little bit from sheer humiliation.

Then I realized that all the other moms in the waiting room were giving me the oh-you-poor-woman look too. I guffawed some awkward laugh and stammered something about how I must have written down wrong on my calendar and asked (begged) that she squeeze us in anyway. She did. Thank you kind nurse, karma will be kind to you. But full disclosure? I hadn't written down the wrong day at all, I had simply fucked it up.

Bella did great at the unscheduled appointment which was thankfully needle-free and once we made it out of there I decided to reward my own stupidity with a quick trip to Baby Gap (oh, living it up, I know). I got half way there when I realized that the gale force winds were so bad that they were actually making my baby cry but I pushed on. We did a little shopping and warmed up but I had to pee so that was the end of the fun.

On the way back to the car the wind was in our faces. Great. Now the baby was crying AND losing her blanket which was the only real shelter from the wind that she had. It blew out of her stroller and into a busy intersection at one point but thankfully an elderly lady with a cane bent down to grab it for me before it was lost forever. As she handed it back to me and glanced at my red-cheeked crying baby, you guessed it, she gave me the look. "It's cold today," was all she said. Sigh. Yes, indeed it is.

Once we got back to the parking lot the wind was so bad that I was struggling to control my stroller and pushing it into the wind was like butting up against a brick wall. I got to the car and was faced with a dilemma. I couldn't take my hand off the stroller or it would blow away but I had to somehow get the baby out and into her car seat and this is next to impossible with only one hand. I somehow rigged up a solution where I held the stroller with one foot, lifted out the baby, put her in her seat and I almost did it. I came so close. But the wind got the better of me and off went my stroller like Mary Poppins and her umbrella, flying into the middle of the parking lot. I ran out after it and grabbed it just as a woman drove slowly past me, her children all bundled and warm in the back of her BMW SUV and she shook her head sadly and flashed me the look.

I should have quit there. I should have packed it in and went straight home. But, oh no. No, no. I had dry-cleaning to drop off and a pumpkin to purchase! And I was going to accomplish those feats, oh yes I was. So off to the grocery store. A fatal error. Dry cleaning got dropped off and I moved the car to a family parking spot in front of the grocery store. I loaded Bella, car seat and all, into a grocery cart and stood outside in the freezing wind trying to find a NORMAL SIZED PUMPKIN that would fit in my cart, along with my infant and her car seat. BUT OH NO. All the pumpkins this year are apparently jacked full of pumpkin steroids. There was not one single GOD DAMNED pumpkin that was small enough that I could a) lift it and b) FIT IT IN THE SHOPPING CART. Who wants these giant pumpkins? Who are you people?!

Pumpkin mission abandoned. I headed into the store instead for comfort food. I would eat my way out of this day. A half-dozen bagels, bag of Sun Chips, carton chocolate milk and pint of frozen yogurt later and we were finally going home. So I get out to the parking lot, Bella and my groceries in the shopping cart. I should have learned something when my stroller went flying earlier, but surely a shopping cart is sturdier than my umbrella stroller, right? WRONG.

Just as I lifted Bella's car seat out of the cart the wind caught it and sent it careening across the lot, full speed, toward someone's shiny silver Audi. I had the baby in car seat, in my arms. I tossed her, and I mean tossed, into the back seat of my car, and took off running after the cart. Had I been in normal, mom-friendly shoes, I would have made it too. But oh no. My shoes were not mom-friendly at all and they let me down. My feet literally just slid out from under me and I did a full-on face plant onto the ground, peeling my face off the asphalt just in time to watch my cart crash full speed into the shiny pretty car.

I'm sorry person who owns that Audi. I really am. But this time there was nobody around to give me the look. I hope you take some comfort in the knowledge that I've already paid the karmic price for jumping into my car and speeding off without waiting to find you and tell you how I scratched your car. My good jeans are ripped. My knee is scraped and my thumb is still throbbing and bleeding. But mostly, my ego is bruised. Because just when you think you've got it all together, there's always a face-plant waiting in the wings to put you back into your place.

So where's the silver lining in this dreadful day? Well here it is. I got home and because my baby had missed her morning nap and had to wait until almost 2 p.m. to have her lunch, she was exhausted and went down for a three-hour nap. This allowed me to drink a hot cup of tea and curl up on the couch to nurse my wounds with Oprah and soap operas.

Oh, and also? I had an awesome celebrity sighting! As Gossip Girl would say, "Spotted: This fabulous fellow and his own flirty Entourage, skipping their way down Bloor Street all suited up for a special occasion and having a gay ol' time."

Oh Lloyd, how I love thee. Thank you for walking past as I struggled in the whipping wind to try and stop my baby from balling and save her blanket from blowing out again into traffic. I'm the one that you looked at. And I forgive you because you made me smile.

The Lonely Goatherd

2008-10-14T09:18:00.013-05:00

Went to go see the stage performance of Sound of Music at the Princess of Wales theater last week. Awesome. Loved it. It was a truly fun night spent with two of my favourite moms (Scarb and her BFF) and my number one favourite wing-man, formerly known as Weirdo, but these days we're calling him Uncle Daddy. Heh.

The night started off with cosmos at Peter Pan on Queen West. So hip, I know. Then we saw the show and tried not to piss off the earnest audience members around us by laughing too loudly at some of the cheesier moments. There were many, but I still loved it. Great sets, nuns who could sing their asses off, and yes the VonTrapp kids were super, super cute and not in a way that made me want to vomit at all. Must be the new-found mother in me?

After the show Uncle Daddy and I went for more drinks and met up with an old friend who I hadn't seen in a couple of years. It was "almost" an old-school, out on the town, BB (before Bella) kind of night with cocktails and ciggies and adult conversation. I was just getting into the groove when all of a sudden the clock struck midnight and I suddenly turned back into a pumpkin.

That is, I received a desperate and (dare I say angry? True, I'd missed the first two calls because my phone was on vibrate) phone call from Crown. Baby was screaming. Daddy was panicking. Mommy was in a cab and at home in about 5 minutes flat. So much for letting loose. Ah well. It was a super fun night while it lasted. I'm beginning to finally get it now. As "the mom" I don't really ever get to go out "strings-free" or stress-free pretty much ever again. Or at least for the next, what? 18 years. Sigh.

Anyway, in an ever-so fitting development, this week Bella has learned how to yodel. Seriously. I'm not sure if it's because of all the, "High on a hill was a lonely goatherd. Lay ee odl ay ee odl ay hee hoo," I've been singing since the show, but I'm telling you, it's the cutest thing ever. She has also suddenly discovered how to do that "burble burble burble" thingy where she runs her finger over her lips to make a buzzing kind of noise. Ever since she's discovered these new tricks (about three days ago) she's pretty much been doing a combo of the two non-stop and therefore keeping her father and I in constant hysterics.

But why try to tell you, when I can show you. So here you go, for your viewing pleasure, the yodeling, burbling baby:

Happy Birthday To You: 8 Months Old

2008-10-03T09:03:00.012-05:00

Dear Anabella,

8 months, eh? Way to go, Kid. Lots to report on this month, for sure, but I'm going to make it brief because of the kind of week it has been for all of us. I'd prefer to reflect on some bigger issues today, instead.

You are fully sitting up by yourself now and you are so proud to be able to do it. It's not too far away before you'll be pulling yourself right forward and starting to crawl. You remain pretty chill about it all, though, and we can tell you are in no rush. Baby Girl, there are so many years ahead of you for rushing. Take it slow for now and enjoy.

You continue to expand your ever growing culinary tastes. This month we started to feed you some chunkier bits and just today you realized what the heck to do with them! You chew! Can't tell you how relieved I am to see it. This has been a tough, tough week and Mommy is on edge about your health and your safety. To see you chew those chunks like a pro and swallow them safely instead of spitting them at me or choking them down is the best gift. We'll be taking it slow here too, but what a great start you have made.

We had our first "all girls'' trip this month with Auntie Dings and baby Liv. The four days that we spent together at the cottage were incredibly precious to me and something that I will remember fondly forever. You seemed to really notice your friend for the first time and to watch you two girls interact in your own baby-way made your Auntie Dings and I swell up with joy. I hope that one day you will have the same relationship with Liv that I am privileged enough have with her mom.

As mentioned, despite the many gifts and joys that you bring to me every day, this has been an incredibly sad week for your father and I, and for many of our friends. I believe that out of great tragedy must come great learning and so I am working very hard to find some perspective and to hold it tight. I've spent some hours sitting in your room and watching you sleep this week. Something that I haven't done since you were tiny and sleeping close beside me. I'm finding that have to let you go a little bit more every day. Every day you get a tiny bit more independent and you need me a tiny bit less. But Anabella, one day you will read this and when you do I want you to know something important.

The fulfillment, love, pleasure and joy that you have brought into our lives in these eight short months is already worth more than any pain or sorrow that we will have to survive as a family. I know that this is not the last difficult week that we will go though together. There will always be more tears and more fears and more challenges. Here's the thing though. As long as we have each other, we can get though it all. All I need, all I need, is Daddy and you.

Another thing that you learned to do very well this month? Give hugs. And wow. I can't imagine a more precious development. Your hugs? They are the best therapy, the best medicine, the only drug that I'll ever need, ever again. As long as those hugs keep coming, we'll keep going. Together, us three.

I love you so much.

Mommy

Never Enough

2008-09-28T10:09:00.010-05:00

I only met their daughter once.

She was about three or four weeks old, out for a stroll with Mom and Dad, who lived just around the corner from us. It was a beautiful early fall day and I remember feeling so happy for them. The last time I'd seen them together she was still pregnant and feeling heavy and hot. Now she looked tired but still so much better. She had the weary glow of a new mom, proud to be pushing her beautiful baby around, but still not quite used to the fact that this little bundle had to be packaged up and taken everywhere with them now.

I was pregnant at the time and like every first time expectant mother I was dying to reach into their stroller and stroke the tiny face, or pick her up and cuddle her for a moment in my arms. But the baby was asleep and I was hesitant to wake her, so instead I just stood and stared for a few moments and whispered my gushing ooohs and ahhhs and quiet words of congratulations to the new parents. Now I wish I had reached in and touched the sleeping baby after all. Now I know that such a tiny newborn would probably not be woken by such a gentle gesture.

I remember the little girl's face to this day. She was lovely and although I'm prone to tears anyway my pregnancy hormones didn't help any and I got a little wet in the eyes at the thought that soon enough I'd be the proud mom pushing the carriage. I had a million questions for these brand-new parents who looked, to me, like they already had it all figured out. I remember remarking how good Mom looked.

"Are you actually sleeping?" I asked her, "You look great."

"Oh yeah, sure," she said with a laugh, "This parenting thing is a piece of cake. No trouble at all."

Of course, she was teasing me. Because, as I know now, this parenting thing is very, very far from a piece of cake.

I never ran into Mom and her baby again, despite the fact that they lived so near by, but I did see Dad many times. He always asked how I was feeling and commented on my growing belly and I always asked after his wife and daughter. I still remember the day that he told me they had bought a new house. He was at the corner putting up an open house sign and we chatted for a while. He told me that although they had loved living in the area while it was just the two of them, she had started feeling anxious and nervous about it now that the baby had arrived.

We live in a rather "urban" neighbourhood, filled with train tracks and half-way houses. There's a juvanile hall around the corner and sometimes rowdy and drugged up teens crowd the streets and act up. At the time I didn't understand her fears. This is just the price for living downtown. I had never felt scared by the "characters" in my 'hood. But I wasn't a mother yet and she was. And now I do understand. Now with a heavy heart and a knot in my stomach I understand all too well.

As parents, almost instantly, you develop a physiological need to protect your children. It is not something that can be taken lightly or pushed to the back of your mind. It is all encompassing. It is overwhelming beyond description. This couple, with their beautiful baby girl, were listening to their instincts and moving away from her perceived dangers. They had purchased a house in a "good" neighbourhood, on a tree-lined street, a larger, cleaner, "safer" place to raise their daughter. He told me they were a little saddened to leave their urban life behind, but also very excited to start their new life as parents in a new house with more space and a yard.

We've all heard the stories about the mother who lifts up a car to save her child pinned underneath. When you have a child of your own, you understand where this hidden strength comes from. But the horrible truth of it is? Sometimes, despite your every effort, despite the fact that you have now devoted every ounce of your entire being to keeping your babies safe and sound, sometimes even super-human strength is not enough to protect them. Moving to a better neighbourhood or lifting up the car simply won't be the answer all the time.

Last week this lovely couple's baby girl died quietly in her sleep. She was 13 months old. I didn't know her and I don't know her parents all that well. But I am shattered by this news. I am devastated by the knowledge that this can happen at any time to anyone's child. And by the haunting fact that there isn't a thing that we can do prevent it.

My greatest hope today for this family, who must be broken into so many pieces at this time, is that one day they will be able to pick the shards and put them back together again. Perhaps not in the exact same shape that they were in before, but at least in a shape that makes some kind of sense to them and allows them to stand up and move ahead.

To really appreciate the people we love is one thing we can do to honour the life of a tiny little girl who was certainly loved beyond her comprehension and who will now be missed beyond belief. I know I'll be hugging my loved ones tighter from today forward. I hope that you all will too.