Snow, Cold, Misery. Begin Rant.

So, we're in the midst of a snowstorm right now, a pretty major one at that, as its been snowing steadily since the middle of last night.

But here's the thing....

....I really wish the rest of small town/small city Canada would just STOP with the ridiculing of Toronto and our poor response to snow. Every time we have a major storm, or even not so major, the city advises residents to stay home and flights, transit etc gets cancelled. Fine. Then it takes about 1 hour before we hear the rest of Canada weigh in on how pathetic Toronto is and have to hear irritating yokels from the rest of Canada say stuff like "WE call this winter, what does Toronto call it? Har Har Har."

You know, I want just ONE of those people to live, work and DRIVE in this city for one snowy winter and then say the same thing.

First, no other city has to contend with 3 million people trying to get where they need to go. Three million people. That is hundreds of thousands of cars on the few highways and major arteries that come in and out of the city. Hundreds of thousands of people trying on public transit, which is subject to its own delays. Lots of these people DIDN'T grow up in the Far North as I did, instead they grew up in places like India and Barbados where snow doesn't factor into their lives and is part of their DNA. So, treacherous roads are made worse by not only ridiculous volume, but also by drivers who are not properly trained to deal with it. On a good day, one accident can back up a busy highway for hours...its not LIKE Thunder Bay or elsewhere where you can zip around an accident and keep going the 10 minutes until your at your house. Once an accident has slowed you down, it can take a half hour to even get to somewhere where you can exit the highway. You and a hundred thousand other people trying to get to the same detour. Try it sometime. Its pure joy. Especially when, say, you have to pick your son up a daycare in 5 minutes and you're still an hour away.

I'm sure everyone remembers the fateful year that the city had to call in the army to dig us out of the snow. Toronto will never live it down. Oddly Torontians are not especially embarassed by this fact. Why? Because is WAS a disaster. I lived downtown at time, and when I saw those army trucks pull up and the men with shovels jump off I wept with joy. As they loaded tons upon tons of snow into the waiting trucks, I wanted to bake them cookies.

Here's what the rest of Canada doesn't GET....in addition to being a huge city, Toronto is an OLD city. That means that houses in a good portion of the city are close together and often don't have driveways and if they do, it's frequently front lawns that have been paved. And the big old houses are often now apartments which means there are tenants who own cars who need to park on already overcrowded city streets.

Without a front lawn or boulevard and cars parked everywhere, there are very few places to put the snow. Those few places consequently have towering snowbanks that get so tall and narrow its impossible to put more snow on them and are so big that drivers cannot see around them without pulling into oncoming traffic. People who have to park on the street have to dig out their cars with nowhere to put the snow so we wind up with little snowbanks in front of and behind the cars or worse, thrown back on the street. The snowbanks means less street parking available third, but the number of cars has obviously remained the same. Consequently cars have to park at odd angles and jut out into traffic or park in illegal zones. And the reason for this isn't a blatant disregard for bylaws or mere Torontian self-centredness. We're just trying to get on with our lives. Plows can't clear the streets properly because there are so many parked cars with nowhere to move to. I know because I WAS one of those cars.

People get frustrated and drive too fast. People get scared and drive too slow. Buses and trains are packed and hot. People are cranky. But we still have to work, which is often no where even close to where we live. We still have to buy groceries and go the doctor. We still have to work in hospitals and banks and, even, like myself, keep TV stations on the air, so the rest of Canada has stuff to watch on their TVs when they get home at night.

So, rest of Canada, can you just lay off? Winter in this city has ZERO upside for those who live here. We're hours from ski-hills and ice-fishing and other outdoor pursuits that make winter more bearable. And our roads are 100 times more crowded and dangerous as yours. So yes, we are advised to stay home from work and school is cancelled. I'm all for it.

I just can do without the snide remarks. Okay?

Blahs....

God, I wish January would just end already.

I was lying in bed last night listening to the wind as it raged around the house, which I normally find a bit of a comforting noise, but no luck last night. Why, you ask? (Or don't ask, as is more likely). Kieran wasn't sleeping well at all, and at about 2:30 he woke up and was absolutely wide awake. I tried bringing him into our bed where he lay quietly for about 20 minutes, but did not go back to sleep . I finally threw in the towel and we moved the living room where I hoped the crazy antics of Thomas the Tank Engine would lull him back to sleep. Didn't work. (Side note: as far as engines goes, Thomas is really sort of bratty). Anyway, it was close to 4 am before I was back asleep and of course, Kieran, who also serves as our alarm clock, did not go off between 6:30 and 7 as he normally does. Instead at 7:30 I jumped out of bed and we started the mad rush to get out of the house on time.

In general, I'm sort of ambivalent about maternity leave. I liked it, but I found a lot of the days long and I'm sure with 2 children it will be even longer. But on mornings like today, I'm soooo looking forward to it - when I won't be obligated to rush an almost 2-year old out the door in the bitter January cold before he's even had a decent breakfast or time to wake himself up.

Anyway, today I feel a bit zombie-ish, no surprise. And on top of it all, Baby #2 must be growing exponentially as I can actually feel my skin stretching to accommodate him/her, which is quite uncomfortable. Eric and I took our new mini-van (well, its almost ours at least) for a test drive last night night and I swear while I was standing in the car dealership I though the child was going to claw itself out of my belly.

January, please be over. Bring on April!

73 Days

It's hard to believe that I only have 73 days until my official due date, but let the countdown begin!!!

I cannot stress how different this pregnancy has been. Aside from the relatively unflagging morning sickness, I've been a lot LESS uncomfortable that I was last go round. With Kieran, by this point, my feel were so swollen I had to go shoe shopping and also he was sitting right on the pelvis, so I couldn't stand on one foot any more. (Which is a real challenge when getting dressed.)Even sleeping by this point I think was a lot more difficult and trust me, this past week, I've done a ton of sleeping.

But still, I cannot wait for this pregnancy to be over. Sure, I'm not sure I'm quite mentally prepared to have another infant on my hands quite so soon after feeling quite confident that Kieran has left most of his neediness and night-waking well behind him, but pregnancy really does suck. I think many of my recent feelings are due to last week's Fever Extravaganza. When one is sick, one is inherently selfish. As my fever crept up and up, I hated the constant worry about the state of my unborn child, , the guilt that all I was ingesting was Cup a Soup and orange juice, and on top of it all, still having to remember to take my anti-nausea pills or I'd be throwing up what little I as able to eat.

And don't get me started on cold medicines. All the literature you read, says pretty much that most medication is useless and tea with honey and lemon is as good any OTC medicine you can buy. I call out whoever said that as a outright liar . God, I hate being patronized in that way.

Anyway, maybe it's just me who is selfish and it has nothing to do with being sick, but regardless, 69 days left until I can guzzle Neo Citran just like the good old days. Oh wait, there's still breastfeeding, something else which although I lasted three endless months, I never really enjoyed.

And one other thing, the most recent caffeine study thing gets to me too. Newest word is, it doubles the chance of miscarriage in the first three months. It's like everything else...a roller coaster of good to bad to OK to bad again. Next week, next year, next month it will be something else again, some other food, some other chemical that is going to cause miscarriage or brain damage or peanut allergies. God, I'll be glad to get off the pregnancy train one and for all....

And we're feeling HOTHOTHOT

I guess I should be careful throwing around phrases like "worst week ever" because its like begging fate to just finish me off. But, as far as weeks go, this was a doozy. 

It started last Saturday when I went to my brother's house for dinner with Kieran (Eric was playing that night with his band). Another friend of mine, who is nine months pregnant, and her two little boys were there too. Sometime during dinner I noticed Kieran sort of dragging himself dejectedly around the house and his eyes were really watery and when I picked up him he had a raging fever. So, feeling guilty that I had a sick child around this woman who was literally about to give birth, we hightailed it out of there in minutes and I came home and put him bed. 

Fast forward to Monday and it's clear that Kieran,in addition to the fever and runny nose, has pink eye, so I stayed home with him. During that day, I started to feel weird and by that night I knew I was coming down with something, but I got up and dutifully went to work the next day. And I convinced myself that I was just coming down with a cold. But it was downhill from there...actually, it was the Olympic Men's downhill of downhills. Fast and out of control. Yes, without a shadow of a doubt, I had the flu. 29 weeks pregnant and the flu. It was horrible. My fever never went above the 102 benchmark that means you need to drag yourself to your nearest Emergency, although I hovered on the edge for almost two days of sheer hell. Eric stayed home two days with me because HE had pink eye and also, because we were actually thinking for awhile that I was going to wind up in the hospital. We had a nice system though...he set up our home phone so all I had to do was hit "redial" to get him to bring me juice, tea or just general sympathy.

I could barely get out of bed, could barely talk and my own child was briefly, quite afraid of me and I don't blame him. And all I could take was Tylenol for fever which was more or less like throwing pebbles at an advancing army. Still, five days after the onset, my throat is still is constant agony and I have a head cold from hell. And oh yeah, I woke up today with pink eye. Of course. 

But there is nothing really a scary as being feverish and pregnant. I was sooooo hot that I had visions of my poor defenseless baby trapped like a lobster inside a sac of amniotic fluid that is just about to hit a rolling boil.  In the moments when my fever wasn't as high, I had happier images of my baby in a Hawaiian shirt, holding shades and a Mai Tai saying "This MUST be Fiji, which way to the beach?" But still, it reminds me how much I don't like the uncertainty of being pregnant. Instead, all i could do in my perma-feverish state was hope the kicks I was feeling was s/he joining the hotel conga line and NOT trying to scramble out of the pot. 

Get your flu shot, people!

What Would Jesus Do?

What would he do indeed...

We're in the midst of a "situation" that I'm not sure how we deal with. There's a bit of background, so bear with me...

One of Eric's personal training clients just happens to be someone very , very high up in my company. In addition to her, he also trains her son at least once a week. Last night, it was the boy who was being trained and his mother (let's just call her The Big Boss) was running late to pick him up after his session was finished at 9 pm. At about 9:30 she comes to get the boy and of course, by this time, Eric is well underway with his final 9 pm client, so I hear The Big Boss, just yell down the stairs to Eric that she's sorry she's late and thanks for everything.

Fade to this morning...

While driving into work, Eric's cell phone rings and its Ms. 9pm and she's freaking out because she just went out to her driveway and her brand new Christmas Present Car has a large dent in the driver side. After leaving our house, where she had parked across the street at the end of our driveway, she went straight home and the dent was not there earlier in the day. And she tells Eric that she thinks it was probably the lady who came to pick up her son in a rush, who backed out the driveway recklessly, smashed into her door and then drove off. Admittedly, this is a plausible theory...but Ms 9pm wants answers OR the phone number of The Big Boss.

Frig.

How does one deal with this? We have zero proof of who it is, or that it happened at our house, but Ms. 9PM says it did, so we have no choice but to follow up. Eric's wanted me to talk to TBB, but after thinking about a bit, I think that would be a huge mistake. After all, I work for her...she has control of things like my JOB, my BONUS, and when raise time comes around, I don't want her thinking "Gee, Gen's done a darn fine job, except she did accuse me of a hit and run last year. THIS'll show her..." Eric grudgingly agrees that he will be the one to ask the question.

Still, my coworker and I took a walk down to the parking garage a little while ago to surreptitiously check for any damage or missing paint, only the car isn't there. (It's probably at the body shop, he says).

Man, this is awkward.

Update

It WAS her. Ms 9pm actually drove to our house today to replay the incident and determine how it would have happened. (She is definitely out for blood!) Anyway, Eric had no choice but to make the call. And we got a full confession. TBB says she got out of her car last night but couldn't see any damage so she left.

Still awkward.

Thanks Mom, Every Time.

Remind me never to give my mother my blog address. 

Sweet Jesus, that woman can drive me nuts. She calls tonight to tell me they got home from my brother's safe and sound - which was nice but I'd sort of forgotten they WEREN'T home already. So, we're chatting about the usual things and then she inevitably gets to my pregnancy, which I sort of dread, because she is the double whammy of a pseudo-expert (4 kids and all, you know) AND is a colossal worrier. 

I tell her my appointment was just fine, that everything seemed A-OK and that I took my Glucose Tolerance test but haven't heard any results yet.

"What do you mean, Glucose Tolerance? Like for diabetes?" Her voice immediately changes to one of borderline panic. 

"Exactly Mom, but its standard now, I'm pretty sure everyone has to do it."

" Hmmm...THAT's weird." 

She does not believe me, obviously. She is clearly thinking that I have been red-flagged but she grudgingly lets it drop. And we move onto something else. However, near the end of the call, she tries again: "So what else did the doctor say? Did he say....(pause, while she tries to think of the least offensive way to say it)...you were ....gaining too much weight?" 

Sigh. "No Mom. They actually said my weight was "Good" whatever that means." 

Surprisingly, I didn't gain much at all despite the 4 week holiday binge I was on. However, I've gained  a total of 17 pounds since the start, which is actually better than last time around and completely within what the average is for women at my stage. Having said that, most of those 17 pounds are in my boobs, which are the last place I need extra weight and which I think makes me look all around bigger. (I swear I could carry stuff on my chest without using my hands anymore.)

Anyway, I know my mother all too well. She thinks I HAVE gained too much weight and that is why they are now testing me for gestational diabetes and nothing I'm going to say at this point is going to change her mind. So, I wrap up the call. And consider eating a bowl of sugar with a spoon, but I refrain. 

On another note....turned on the Jacuzzi jets tonight while Kieran was in the tub. Thought he would think it was funny. Except the water level was too low for the jets to be completely submerged and the result was a roaring geyser of water that sprayed about 6 feet in air soaking us both. I have never heard him scream with such genuine fear. I removed him from the tub immediately and he calmed down once the jets were completely off, but I'm still sort of laughing. 

He is soooooo gonna blog about ME one day. 

Melon Head Meltdown

Another weekend down the drain....all is good in the world.

We had a friend of mine staying with us since September who finally got her own apartment. Now that our spare room is vacated for the first time since last July (when we had a friend of Eric's staying with us for a couple months) we can start getting the room ready for Kieran, who will be graduating from his baby room to his own "big boy bedroom." The transition should give me a nice project for the next couple of months...you know, since the more pregnant I get the more I'm sure I'll want to shop, decorate and move furniture. Guess we'd better get started....

Speaking of big boys...I keep thinking that it's time to get Kieran's haircut. I've been holding off because it was sooooo slow to grow into begin with, but now although it is still more or less sparse on top, its getting quite full and long at the back and is starting to resemble a baby mullet. So, on Saturday, we decided to forgo the boring barber and take him to the mall to one of those places that specialize in kids haircuts.

We walk into the salon and I tell the friendly girl at the counter that I think it might be time to cut our son's hair and she starts explaining to me how it works (the price includes a certificate! a photo! and a keepsake lock of hair!...etc, etc). And all of sudden, my eyes started to well up and I knew I was going to start to cry. I actually had to turn and leave Eric standing there with Kieran. The girl finished off by saying something like "...mothers are NEVER ready..." which apparently is true. I'm not sure why I reacted so emotionally since this is the same person who dropped her baby off dry-eyed at his first day of daycare, but I did. I guess I just realized how fast he is growing up and to cut off his first hair would be like saying goodbye to his babyhood. But still, I felt like a sap. Eric thinks the whole thing is hilarious. Regardless, our son will be keeping his mullet a big longer, at least until his mother gets her apparent rampant pregnancy emotions in check.

And finally, I had another OB check up today. All is well with the newest baby. Following the regular appointment, I had to go get my "glucose tolerance test." I remember from last time, being warned at having to drink this vile, sickeningly sweet, orange liquid before the test and then thinking it wasn't so bad. This time, the doctors assistant, as I was leaving, says cheerily:"enjoy the test, hope you don't throw up!" So off I go to the insanely busy hospital lab, where the nurse hands me the bottle, gives me the instructions and I take a seat. And the first sip is...well, I'm just going to go with delicious. It's sort of like drinking slightly sweeter orange pop...very reminiscent of that McDonalds Orange Drink that we used to have at Brownie's meetings and school Field Days. I had no trouble getting it down (obviously!) and felt just fine afterwards. I wonder if that is a good sign or bad?