Road Trip

We have arrived in Thunder Bay...finally. We had a relatively bad trip...keeping in mind, of course, that the bar for bad trips was set quite high last summer when, six weeks pregnant, I threw up every 45 minutes for two solid days. This time, I think the trip would have been GREAT, and started off so, until we were about 45 minutes past Sudbury.

Sailing along, making great time, we came to a dead stop at a motorcycle/car accident that looked as though it had happened about 3 minutes earlier. We were about 10 cars behind the actual accident and after about 10 minutes or so 8 cars in front of us managed to get by until the police/ambulance arrived and stopped everyone. And so we sat on this highway for at least an hour, and as there was only one car in front of us, we saw quite clearly, the whole thing. We watched as they loaded what we now know was a dead body into the ambulance. Then the OPP came up to our car and said they were closing the highway for the next 4 hours and that we had to turn back.

Now, what you may not realize if you are not from the north, or any other area that can legitimately be called "the boonies", when this happens you are out of luck. There is no alternate route. No back roads that join back to the highway. The OPP does not set up a detour to keep the traffic moving. Nothing. So, unless we wanted to travel back 3 or 4 hours to join the only other highway that will take you through Timmins and Cochrane (umm, no thanks) we were stuck. So, we headed back to Sudbury which took forever as we had to travel though ANOTHER OPP blockade that was questioning all cars about what they saw in relation the accident. We assume they were trying to find witnesses or possibly there was a hit and run element to the whole thing. The accident happened around 3 pm, and we know they finally opened the highway at 11 pm, so I guess we're lucky we were among the first to find a hotel.

So, yeah, we ended up staying in Sudbury, which worked out fine as the hotel had a pool that Kieran loved and was quite nice. Except the next day our drive was 12 hours. That's 12 hours not including stops for breast feeding, diaper changes, wails of "uppy! uppy!" or just persistent baby screaming that needed attention. What a long day. We arrived here at almost 10 pm and were exhausted.

Let the vacation begin....we need it!

Gay Pride

I went downtown today. I used to live downtown, or close to it, for a good 10 years and I enjoyed it. Took the subway everywhere and cabs everywhere else. Then I bought a car and started to spend less and less time in the downtown core, instead choosing to do my shopping at places that had free parking, until finally I gave up and just moved to the burbs, where I remain.

Anywho. A friend of mine invited me downtown to partake in a pedicure and her favoured salon at Yonge and Bloor, so off I went. And guess what else was going on? The Pride Parade. It seems like every time I make plans, they coincide with a parade. I have never once been to a parade of any sort but I am always caught in parade related traffic. So today, upon realizing that the salon actually overlooked the parade route, I was quite happy to be able to actually SEE an event instead of just enduring the irritating traffic by-products.  Except, as it turns out, the traffic jams are the most interesting part of the parade. I'm wondering...did I miss something? Granted, I couldn't see the first 10 minutes whilst my toenails dried, but afterward, we went to a restaurant and sat in the window to watch. All I really saw was people walking down the street in what may or may not have been groups. Just people, run of the mill people. People with backpacks and babies and bicycles. (And before anyone jumps all over me screaming "that's the point! We're all the same!" I know. I know. But it was a parade and aren't parades supposed to be totally over the top?)  And then all of a sudden there were street cleaners and city trucks and it was over. I didn't see a single float. Nary a rainbow or a drag queen to be had. Just people walking and people on the sidewalk, watching those people walking. THIS is what all the fuss is about? Really?

And speaking of gay....George Michael came on the radio today while I was getting my pedicure. I used to totally LUUURV George Michael (musically, at least) and hadn't heard any of his old songs in years, until recently, as he enjoys the obligatory retro resurgence in popularity. The song on the radio was Father Figure. A classic, sure. And apparently was ALSO a favourite of the two girls sitting next to me. 

Girl #1, suddenly, without warning, BURSTS into the song. I was quite alarmed, as were all three Vietnamese pedicurists. Then, as the chorus started, her friend joined in. And they both belted out the chorus like they were front row at his concert.  I have never seen this happen before - or at least, nowhere that didn't serve alcohol. And the worst  part, as jarring as it is, you sort of have to pretend its normal. I went back to my outdated Flare magazine and the pedicurists went back the our callouses and paraffin treatments and the girls just kept singing. Go George. You still rock, apparently.

On another note, tomorrow we leave for Thunder Bay. It's hard to pack for a month long trip, so instead of trying to decide what may or may not be handy to have, I'm just bringing it all. Strollers, booster seats, baby swing, bikes, riding toys, bouncy chairs, bumbo, bathtub, train tracks and practically every item of clothing that currently fit my children, for all weather eventualities. So yeah, I need to get back to work. 

Wish me luck. 

Edit to Add: OK, I saw some internet photos of the Pride Parade and apparently, there WERE  a few rainbows. They really must have crammed a lot of action into the first 10 minutes because what I saw was exceedingly colourless. 

 

Short and Sweet

As I'm sure lots of parents do, I get weekly emails from a babycare website telling me what exactly, developmentally speaking,  my child should be doing this week.  When Kieran was first born I read every single one as if it were the law. I remember thinking that it was vitally important that he, say, "tracked objects with his eyes", or "made sounds other than crying" right on time. Then I realized that these emails were doing nothing but causing unnecessary stress, so I basically stopped reading them, unless something really caught my eye. 

Like this...

This week,  the subject line was "How Tall Will Your Child Be?".  Now, let me backtrack a minute here. I am under exactly zero illusions that either of my children will be tall. I am not tall. Eric, like probably every single one of his Chinese ancestors, is not tall. My family, with the notable exception of one brother who tops six feet (oooh! a giant!!)  is generally more or less average height. 

My first clue that Kieran might not be a tremendous basketball player came very early...basically starting with his feet. He wore his Robeez 6-12 months slippers well past 18 - 20 months. I have Baby Gap socks of that same time frame (6-12 mos) that I haven't even bothered to put on him because they look gargantuan to me. 

My next clue is that, now that summer is back, I have realized that he can still wear most of his summer clothes from last year. Comfortably. I cannot buy him pants for a two year old because they simply fall right off. 

So, in short, I get it, the boy is wee. 

Then this week, comes this "How Tall Will Your Child Be" email. It required me to plug in some salient facts..his age (2), current height (2 ft, 7 inches) and weight (24lbs) and mine and Eric's heights. Press Enter.

Result: "At age 18 your child will be 5 feet 3 inches tall." WHAT?! That's actually SHORTER than me! (I'm 5 feet and 3.5 inches, thank you very much). Sure, that would be OK on a girl...but for a boy??  That's shoe lift territory! Give the poor kid a break, will you, God?

So, great. Even with their "plus or minus 2 inches" disclaimer, I'm still horrified. I know I should never have taken the quiz to begin with, but now I cannot erase what it told me from my brain.

I hope the 'Your child this week" emails continue and give me more helpful insights and links. Maybe next week, it will give me tips on how to groom my son for his future as a jockey and the messages will continue into his teen years to include ideas on how to comfort him when he cannot get a date because nobody wants  the "little guy" for a boyfriend.  

No thanks. My only pathetic revenge is to unsubscribe from these pointless emails. That, and rent Seabiscuit. 

Splish Splash

We made it through Kieran's second birthday party. It was a success, especially after I pared down the guest list from last year to exclude people without kids. Last year, we invited tons of people, everyone came, and I was frazzled - especially since my mother was in town and "helping." (Which really means  just creating more stress.) The invites also went out quite late since the party was supposed to be THIS weekend, until we realized that Eric is out of town this weekend with his band. 

Of course, the weather forecast was threatening thunderstorms, but instead we got a blistering heat wave with full on humidity. At least the kids could cool down with their water toys, but the adults literally had to sweat it out. - although the Slip N' Slide looked quite tempting. Even the baby was too hot, resulting a newborn strip down - a perk at that age.

Sure the party is work, but overall, the major time sucker is the cake. I decided this year to do individual cakes, covered in melted chocolate icing. Not only did I grossly underestimate how much chocolate I would need, necessitating an emergency 11th hour chocolate run, but it takes about 5 times as long as regular icing and costs 10 times as much. But it was quite delicious, so overall it was worth it.  

Kieran received his own wooden train set, which I think he has played with non stop since we set it up. He even takes the train cars to bed with him and wakes up still clutching them to his chest. He now officially even prefers the train set to going outside which is sort of a nice change.

We did go to a new park yesterday -one right down the lake. There is a little beach, so Kieran got to dip his feet into Lake Ontario which looked to refreshing and pristine, but which, in actuality, is teeming with bacteria and filled with sludge. There is also, we discovered, a splash pad at this park. We weren't prepared for water play, but it was so hot that I let him run in with his shorts and TV shirt on. The boy is a real screamer too.  By far the loudest child there, squealing with glee every time he got splashed. (Which made me wonder...why isn't everyone squealing when they get splashed? At what age do we stopping finding this utterly joyful?)

There were maybe only about 20 other kids there (three of which were named Nathan) as it was still morning, but, the vast majority that were there were accompanied by their Filipino nannies who all hang out in large groups, more or less oblivious to everyone else.  The few other parents were clearly stay at home Splash Pad professionals. Standing at the edge of the water in their Save Darfur T-shirts, feeding their kids organic granola bars, and fully equipped with blankets, picnic baskets and water toys. They all generally sat together...although I'm not sure if they came together or if that's what stay at home moms do. I was totally out of place with my hot jeans, lugging a huge diaper bag that has a million things in it, none of which were towels, blankets or a change of clothes for Kieran.  Also, thinking that we were just going to be hanging out at the playground, I had also stupidly decided to forgo the stroller and brought Kaya in her awkward car carrier,  a cumbersome nightmare if ever there was one. 

I finally left dragging a soaking wet toddler and a wailing underfed and undernapped baby. Although they all totally ignored me, I'm quite sure that as we left, the Nannies and Mommies were all rolling their eyes at my unpreparedness. Or maybe not. But I was glad to escape back to my air-conditioned house, feed my child his Zoodles (which, btw, do NOT resemble any animals that I can think of) away from any watchful eyes. And once both kids were napping, I did a bit of research into Darfur.  Just in case.

The More Things Change....

Whilst I wait for my soon-to-be-two-year-old's birthday cake to bake (I know, I'll say it for you.."Two already? Dang, time flies!"), I thought I might jump on the computer for a quick blog update. Except, my blog updates are never quick and I can guarantee that the cake will be baked well before I hit Publish on this sucker. 

His party is on Saturday - nothing exciting planned, as he is only two and needs very little in the way of amusement and/or friends. We are holding it outside and the weather, as per usual, is going to be lousy. I would much rather be blogging about the the joy of the springtime outdoors, or perhaps even, as someone who has lived through a Melanoma diagnosis, droning on about the perils of too much sun instead of the perils of too much crappy daytime TV. 

But babies and TV are really all I have.

The other day, in a fit of boredom/curiousity, I tuned into Days of Our Lives.  When I was 13 years old, I used to set the Betamax religiously every day to tape the show and remember rushing home from school to watch it. (Settling down in front of the TV with my cord-attached remote control, no less) But I was semi-obsessed with the show...Bo and Hope, Patch and Kayla...those were the days. Well,  apparently, those still ARE the days. I almost fell over when I tuned it and there were Patch and Kayla on the screen, expecting a baby.  Not exactly fresh-faced anymore...it all seemed so tired and creepy. Sort of like the New Kids on the Block reunion. 

As for the baby...my angel is back. Her descent into fussy baby-dom was shortlived, and I'm chalking it up to a growth spurt. She did a 7.5 hour stretch of sleep last night. I have decided that one of the most gratifying noises in the world is the sound of a seven week old waking up in the night, crying out a bit and then, just as you are blearily throwing off the covers to rescue her, the noises stop and she's out for a few more hours. Love it, love it, love it. 

Anyway, one of Eric's clients gave him a Playstation 3 in lieu of cash as payment. (We also have a neatly mowed lawn, trimmed hedges, garage cleaned and trash hauled away - barter is alive and well in these parts. )And now we are the proud owners of, among other things, Guitar Hero. I'm pretty bad. It brings me back to my childhood (pre-Days of our Lives obsessed) when I took piano lessons and after about 5 years and going through every single beginner book in existence without advancing to any of the piano grades, my teacher called my mother to say teaching me piano was a waste of his time and her money.  For me, music is for listening, not playing...even virtually. 

Cake is done. 

What's in a Name Anyway?

We had a lovely woman stop by tonight to drop off some gifts for the wee Papaya. This is one of Eric's former gym clients when he worked at a club downtown. Although we don't know her very well at all, she has taken quite a shine to Eric and by extension, the rest of us. 

Anyway, she came by, laden with gifts (yeah!) and a pie (shouldn't have it, but, yeah!). And, as she's oohing and aahing over the baby, she tells me how much she LOOOOVES the name Kaya. 

We have had a very positive response to the name overall, even though I was a little bit concerned that people would consider it a "made up" type of name. I had never heard it before, but one day, on my commute home from work, it just popped into my head. I mentioned it to Eric (who hated practically every name I ever suggested) who actually liked it. Regardless, it does exist in baby name guides. 

For the vast majority of my pregnancy this baby was going to be named Rachel, which was the name we had picked out should Kieran have been a girl instead of a truck/train loving boy. However,  as my second pregnancy went the on, the name started to sound tired and decidedly blah. When people would ask if we had any names picked, I would say that we were leaning towards Rachel and we often got a very lukewarm response. Even my family was iffy on the name and it just started to feel wrong, so during my 8th month of pregnancy, we made the switch to Kaya, kept Rachel as a middle name and never looked back. 

According to one baby book the name Kaya is of Scandinavian decent and means "pure". Rachel means "innocent lamb". So, yes, our daughter is named "pure, innocent lamb Lam." Even with the double, "lamb/lam" I like the gentle flow of the meaning. 

Our guest tonight is of Japanese descent and as she's telling me how much she loves the name, she leans in to me and whispers, even though there is nobody else around except the baby: "Kaya means 'mosquito net' in Japanese." 

Sweet. 

And I Don't Think I Have the Reciept

I think I broke the baby. 

And it was going so well too...

Don't get me wrong, the Papaya is still an excellent baby. During the day she is usually as good as gold, and cries only when necessary. She smiles all the time and is generally happy and contented. And our nights were pretty good with both us getting good five hour blocks of sleep. And then I stepped in. 

Because her 5 hour blocks of sleep occurred only when sleeping in our bed, I knew it was time to move her into her own crib, in her own room or risk waiting too long and then REALLY having a problem. The crib transition was last week... and it was going OK. 

THEN, wise mother that I am,  I decided that I needed to impose an actual bedtime and put her to bed awake. Maybe its just a coincidence, but suddenly its all gone to hell. Everything. If I put her to bed awake she cries. If I put her to bed asleep, she's awake in 5 minutes and cries. When she does fall asleep, her limit for sleep in the crib is 2 hours and then she wakes up and doesn't want to go back. I know the key is to be consistent. If she's going to sleep in her crib, and I want her to fall asleep awake, I have to work at it, but I'm weak. I keep thinking to myself...she's only 5 weeks old, why I am putting us both thru this? So, I give in and then, obviously, I'm back to square one.  And we're all tired. 

One night her wailing woke up her brother, who proceed to wake up about 3 more times after that and then was up for the day at 6:20, while Kaya was finally quite content to sleep in our bed until 8 am. Arrgh. 

Last night, it took three hours to get to sleep in her crib, she was up two hours later, two hours after that, 45 minutes after that, then 5 minutes after that and 5 minutes after that. So, at 5:45 she was back in our bed, sleeping like the proverbial baby. 

Anyway, I'm just tired. Yesterday, in the space of an hour I managed to smash an entire bottle of balsamic vinegar on the kitchen floor (beyond gross), clog the vacuum after sucking up Kieran's wayward sock and put rice in the rice cooker and then completely forget to turn it on. So, dinner was late (and dry), Eric had to take apart the vacuum to fish out the sock, and I'm still finding shards of glass and vinegar splatters in odd places in the kitchen. 

I know this will all pass and soon enough Kaya and her stupid mother will both be sleeping like babies, but in the short term...YAWN.