What is the big deal about Ikea anyway?

Today, I happened to see what it is like when an Ikea store opens for business for the day.

I should point out that it wasn't intentional goal on my part to be there when the doors opened promptly at 10 a.m. I received an Ikea gift certificate from darling daughter for Christmas. I thought about going to Ikea yesterday, but I didn't want the hassle of dealing with a packed parking lot, so I delayed my plans until this morning. The plan was to go to the gym and then to Ikea. I made the mistake of not finding out in advance Ikea's hours of operation. When I arrived in the parking lot at 9:30 a.m., I thought the shopping gods had cut me a break because the parking lot was basically empty. However, this should have been a clear indication to me that the store wasn't opened. I was shocked to learn that Ikea doesn't open until 10 a.m. Ten a.m?!? As if. What store opens at 10? I thought when the locked doors greeted me.

To kill time, I went into nearby Michael's. Lucky for me, yarn was on sale. So I quite happily fed my increasing yarn addiction by purchasing three balls of wool yarn. When I was walking out to the parking lot, I had noticed the crowd crowded around the front doors at Ikea were walking into the store. It wasn't quite 10 a.m. yet, so I figured the store opened a bit earlier. Nope. They were just letting people mull around the cash area, drinking complimentary coffee. The crowd kept on getting bigger and bigger. People crowded around the Ikea employee greeting customers, eagerly waiting for the doors to open. And at the stroke of 10 a.m., Ikea time, the doors opened and people rushed into utopia.

I, on the other hand, sat on a bench, waiting for the crowd to disperse. Instead of going through the front doors, I went past the cashes, walked through the warehouse area and picture frame department to my destination. If there is one thing I dislike about Ikea is the crowds. I don't like to walk behind people, especially gawkers. When I shop, I'm on a mission. I don't browse. I get in and I get out.

So I got my bins, made my way back to the cash and paid for my purchases. I was in and out in 10 minutes. And that is pretty good, especially when shopping at Ikea.

Please tie a blue ribbon

There is a grassroots movement going on in Ottawa to remember Const. Eric Czapnik, who was stabbed to death early Tuesday morning outside the Civic campus of the Ottawa Hospital.

To be honest, I'm not too sure on all the details, so please excuse me if not all my facts are straight, but from what I have gathered from CFRA, a OC Transpo driver came up with the idea of citizens wearing blue ribbons on their coats and/or on their vehicles in memory of Const. Czapnik and also to support the Ottawa Police Service.

Many people, retailers and small business owners called into Ron Corbett's show this afternoon, offering suggestions and even materials for people to use in order to make blue ribbons. I found an old blue Christmas bow downstairs, took out the staple, cut off a piece of ribbon and tied it to my car antenna. And if it blows away, I've got plenty of ribbon of left to make a new one.

So if you have the materials to make a blue ribbon, please take the time to make one. And if you don't have the materials, please say a little prayer for the Czapnik family and the Ottawa Police Service. I think they need all the prayers they can get in this most difficult time.

Leftovers galore

The turkey has been eaten. The remainder of the pumpkin swirl cheesecake that I didn't end up stashing in freezer has been consumed. Any and all leftovers from Christmas Eve dinner are gone. However, the that doesn't mean the leftover parade is over in my household!

Hell, no. I'm up in my eyeballs in leftovers. My meal planning plans that I executed earlier this month are still going strong. And as planned, I'm eating leftovers until the cows come home (or when there are no more leftovers to be found in the freezer). On tonight's menu: leftover slow cooker lasagna. Yum. And there are two more containers where that came from.

A quick glance in the freezer reveals that I have some fiesta chicken, baked beans, spare ribs and some turkey hash to go through. Argh! I hate leftovers. I'm not a fan. But I'm better than dear husband. He'll avoid any opportunity to eat leftovers. I basically have to either cajole him or badger him to eat them. There have been times where he'll conveniently "forget" to bring his lunch (leftovers from the previous night's dinner) to work. But as previously planned earlier this month, the deal was that we'd get rid of those leftovers by eating them. I can't exactly toss them. It would be a waste of food. Plus, I have no green bin to recycle them. Plus, I'm hoping this will relieve some pressure on the grocery bill. The bright side of all of this is I don't have to cook or plan any dinners for at least a week. Yay for me. And when those leftovers are all gone, I can always start making meals again or crack into the cheesecake.

All I want for Christmas is a green bin

I was hoping Santa would pull through and deliver me a green bin since the City of Ottawa won't. But no dice.

There was no shiny green bin sitting underneath my fake plastic tree on Christmas morning. Alas, it will be at least summer before I get one. I was so excited this fall. I waited for weeks for someone to deliver a green bin to my front door step. But as September rolled into October and October became November, I wondered if it would ever arrive. I decided to call 311 a couple of weeks ago to figure out if I was ever going to get one.

It took a week (I guess a week is a good response time when dealing with such a big corporation as the City of Ottawa) before someone got back to me. I wasn't home at the time, but according to the voice mail I received I won't be getting a green bin until sometime in the spring or summer of 2010 as I live in medium density housing. I'm not too sure what this means, but I'm a part of phase two. Obviously, the city couldn't spare one of the many green bins that have been returned by upset residents in recent months. So here I wait, hoping for a green bin to arrive to my front door step. As thousands of people scrape their turkey leftovers in their new shiny green bins this Christmas, I'll be dumping my turkey remains in a green plastic garbage bag and hauling it to the curb. Destination: landfill.

O Christmas tree update

Earlier this month, I blogged about my worries about getting a Christmas tree. I thought I'd give provide an update. We decided to go with option three: get a big tree and let the chips fall where they may. The tree has been up for more than two weeks now and it is still standing. We may be tempting fate for not having it tethered to the wall, but luckily there have been no incidents involving the tree crashing to the floor.

We cashed in $29.05 in Canadian Tire money to pay for the tree. Between the sale and the CTC money we redeemed, we got the tree for $38. I'd like to point out that was about seven years of CTC money that I collected. From all reports by dear husband, the CTC cashier wasn't very thrilled that she had to count out $29.05 in said Canadian Tire money. Too bad. Maybe you shouldn't be giving it out if you don't want people to save it and spend it.

Okay, back to the subject at hand -- the Christmas tree. Like I said, it is still standing, but it is a great source of amusement for darling daughter. She likes the ornaments, in particular, a green angel ornament that is in the shape a bell. Several times a day I have to tell her to stop playing with the tree, that is for looking at, not touching. And several times a day she refuses to heed my words and continues to play with the tree. I caught her yesterday playing with one of the red plastic balls.

Since erecting our plastic artificial tree, I have learned that I'm not a fan. Having a fake tree is definitely not the same as a real one. Some days I have the urge to water it. However, having a real tree was not an option this year. I'm still stinging over last year's tree debacle. Plus, I do enjoy the fact I'm not picking pine needles out of the bottom of my socks.

Sippy cup SOS

This past weekend, I misplaced two sippy cups within a 24 hour period.

Woe is me. When you only have two sippy cups, losing one puts you in a difficult position. The first sippy cup was misplaced at a friend's house during a Christmas party. I meant to put it in darling daughter's diaper bag, but it completely slipped my mind when we were leaving.

After realizing we were one sippy cup down, dear husband bought darling daughter two brand new sippy cups. Good thing he did because once again we were one sippy cup down come Sunday afternoon after returning home from another playdate. When we were packing up from the playdate, I remember putting the sippy cup in the diaper bag. That is the last time I saw it. Either it fell out of my bag or was eaten by the diaper bag. Regardless, it is gone and no where to be found.

Now I have two cups. I almost lost a third yesterday when visiting my brother's house. I made a mental note to retrieve darling daughter's sippy cup from my brother's living room when we were leaving. And we couldn't find it. Me, my sister-in-law and my mother spent about five minutes searching for darling daughter's sippy cup. I was sweating bullets. If we couldn't find the sippy cup, we'd be two sippy cups down. With only one sippy cup to depend on, we were treading on a thin line. Two Christmas ago, I was at my brother-in-law's house when my 20-month-old niece lost her sippy cup. It was their only sippy cup. They spent hours searching the house for said sippy cup. They finally found it in the trunk of my niece's bike. Needless to say, the bought a back up sippy cup.

Well, the sippy cup gods decided to cut me a break and we found the sippy cup in the little cupboard inside the coffee table. I was relieved. I meant I didn't have to break into darling daughter's Christmas stocking and use the sippy cups I bought her for Christmas.

Thank you sippy cup gods for heeding my SOS. I do appreciate it. And if you could do something about the valves coming off the cups, I'd appreciate that, too.

Gingerbread dreams

I think I got the shaft when I was a kid. Until yesterday, I had never, ever decorated a gingerbread house.

In fact, I don't think I was aware of the gingerbread house decorating concept until I was in college. One day before the Christmas holidays, one of my rez acquaintances mentioned she was going to decorate a gingerbread house.

After years of debate, I finally bought a gingerbread kit this year. After yesterday afternoon's step class, I made an an emergency stop to the Bulk Barn to get some extra peppermint swirls, Christmas Smarties and gum drops, before racing home to decorate with darling daughter.

Although darling daughter didn't do much decorating (she tried to shake off the icing on her hand), I had a great time, sticking peppermint swirls on the roof, edging the roof with gum drops and sticking Smarties on the windows. It was so much fun, which begs the question, why the hell didn't I do this when I was a kid? When I posed that exact question to my mother, she pish poshed me, saying it is a Christmas tradition that I can start with my own kids. (Apparently, she didn't decorate gingerbread houses when she was a kid either). It is definitely a Christmas tradition that I want to continue to do. It's so much fun. And yummy too. I can't wait to break into that gingerbread house.

The problem with wrapping paper

Hi. My name is Valerie and I'm a wrapping paper addict.

I'm not fooling. I'm a wrapping paper addict. I love, love, LOVE wrapping paper. I just adore it. But the problem with wrapping paper is that it collects. There are only so many gifts you can wrap in any given year. And I fall in love with new wrapping paper patterns. I buy my new loves, fall in love again and buy my new, new loves. Yep, it is a nasty, costly cycle. I've had a wrapping paper problem since I was a kid. I was always buying it or asking my mom to purchase it. I think she is still using some of the wrapping paper I bought.

It got so bad that I had two wrapping paper bins stuffed full of wrapping paper. So I decided to do something about it. No more wrapping paper purchases. I went cold turkey last year. I didn't buy a single roll. Not one. And this year I found the will power not to buy any new rolls. And it is paying off. I am slowly getting through my wrapping paper stash. If I'm lucky this year, I'll downsize to one bin. Seeing my shrinking stash makes dear husband very happy. Over the years he has grumbled extensively about my wrapping paper addiction and how my bins cluttered up the closet. Curbing my wrapping paper addiction is a big accomplishment for me. Now if I could only do something about my Christmas card addiction . . .

There is a reason why bread makers were invented

I have concluded there is a very good reason why bread makers were invented. They were invented for people like me, who have grandiose dreams of the smell of homemade bread wafting through the house as newly baked loafs cool on a cooling rack.

For whatever reason, the idea of making my own bread has been stuck in my head for days. I've tried my hand three times to make bread and the results have been mixed, to say the least. I made cinnamon rolls on Monday. They turned out okay. Yesterday, I thought I'd try my hand at making bread from a recipe I discovered in my Kitchen Aid cook book that came with my mixing stand. It was a disaster. I knew it wasn't going to work when I saw yeast granulars dotting my dough. To be fair to myself, the recipe called for me to mix the yeast granulars as in with the dry ingredients. I had to chuck the end result because the bread was too dense and tasted quite yeasty. It was quite a disaster.

But apparently, I didn't learn my lesson. I made cinnamon rolls again, this time from a recipe in the Kitchen Aid cook book. The reason why I keep on turning to this cook book for help is that my stand up mixer does all the work. Since I proved Monday I couldn't knead bread to save my life, I thought I'd leave it to the stand up mixer and the dough hook.

Well, I was really optimistic that it would work this time. I followed all the steps to the T. I took the temperature of the water. I warmed my mixing bowl in the oven. I timed the mixing steps. I even warmed up my oven to let the dough rise. No dice. The dough didn't rise. And if it did, it wasn't very much. Since Monday I proved that sweet dough is pretty forgiving, I continued making the cinnamon rolls. They taste and look good, which is all I was hoping for.

So my traditional bread making dreams have been dashed. Bread making clearly isn't for me. Until I get a bread maker, I'll be buying my bread from the grocery store.

Quite simply, gym guilt is annoying

I go to the gym often. Maybe too often. Today, I thought I'd take the night off and not go to the gym. But gym guilt quickly set in.

I try to avoid gym guilt. I really do, but it is hard to ignore. Take this morning for instance. I told myself that I wouldn't go to the gym because I had gone on Saturday, Sunday and Monday. Self replied, saying fine, but why not?

Oh, that darn question. It hangs in the air, waiting to be answered. It won't be ignored.

Me: Why not? I said. Good question. Because I've gone for the last three days.

Self: Yes, I realize that you've gone for the last three days, but why not go tonight? Not like you have anything important to do. The way I see it you have two choices: drag your butt to the gym or sit on your butt. Your choice. And let me remind you, something may come up tomorrow night and you may not be able to go. Plus, the holidays have arrived. You can afford to go an extra night.

Me: But I want to sit on my butt and watch Coronation Street.

Self: Like I said, your choice.

Ah, your choice. As if I have a choice. Almost always, gym guilt slowly eats away at my resolve not to go to the gym. Sure, at 9 a.m. I may resolve not to go to the gym, but by 1 p.m. I'm wavering and by 4:30 p.m. I'm assembling my gym bag and waiting for dear husband to come home so I can head out the door.

Ah, gym guilt. It gets me every time.

Getting domestic

Today, I made cinnamon rolls from scratch.

I haven't made traditional cinnamon rolls since I was about 12 years old. I vaguely remember making them one Saturday afternoon during a 4-H course. Several years ago, my grandmother gave me a Purity cookbook for Christmas. It has photos and a step by step guide how to make bread and sweet breads such as cinnamon rolls. I thought bringing homemade cinnamon rolls to an upcoming Christmas potluck brunch would be a nice touch so I thought I'd do a trial run today.

After buying some shortening and a rolling pin this morning, I got out my cookbook and started mixing and kneading. I haven't kneaded bread in ages, so I was extremely worried about the rising process. I'm pretty sure it didn't happen correctly, but no matter, I was insistent in finishing these rolls. I rolled the dough out, sprinkled sugar and cinnamon on it, rolled it up, cut it into strips, mixed more sugar and margarine together, assembled mixture and rolls in a pan, let it rise again before putting it in the oven. The end results look impressive, but I'm unsure how it will taste.

We will see tonight how it tastes when I take it to a gathering. I'm pretty proud of my trial run. So proud that I may even attempt to make bread from scratch sometime later this week.

I'm dreaming of a NyQuil induced coma

Forget dreaming of a white Christmas. I'm dreaming of sleep.

I'm in desperate need of sleep. The last three nights have been H-E-L-L. Night one: two hours. Night two: five hours. Last night: six hours. Despite increasing my sleep quota over the last two nights, I'm utterly exhausted. I need some good, quality sleep. Not interrupted sleep. For a woman who basically lives her life in a bubble, I've been either dealing with allergies or a cold for the last month. Darling daughter got sick last week. She seems to be getting over her epic week-long runny nose.

I, on the other hand, sound like I'm coughing up a lung. My cough keeps me up at night. Combine this with the fact that I will suddenly wake up at night for no reason and I have a disaster on my hands. I'm utterly tired. I think I'm reaching the threshold where I'm just too tired to sleep. Ah, insomnia is not my friend. And as for dear husband, who takes public transit to get to work every day, other than the sore throat on Monday, he has had no major colds to deal with. Lucky him.

I'm waiting for dear husband to come home to take over parental duties. Once he walks through the front door, I'm taking a mega dose of NyQuil and calling it a day.

Days like these . . .

It is days like these that I'm glad that I'm a stay at home mom.

Right now I'm watching darling daughter play with her books and one of the small bins from her trofast unit. And that is fine by me. I've got a major headache, and it isn't from all the snow that is falling to the ground, either. I've been suffering with a cold for the last several days. I'm pretty sure that what I'm suffering from is a cold. It feels different than when I'm battling allergies. Right now I'm thankful that I can breath through my nose, but I wish this horrible cough would take a hike.

The other night I got a grand total of two hours of sleep and last night I got about five. While I more than doubled what I got the night before, I'm feeling pretty exhausted. Add in the fact that darling daughter is refusing to nap longer than one hour a day, and I'm almost to the end of my rope. A two hour nap would feel great right about now.

So before I confuse your or myself any further, the reason I'm glad that I'm a stay at home mom on days like these is that if I only had five hours of sleep, forced to battle the crazy stormy weather in rush hour traffic and work eight hours in an office, I think I'd go nuts. Right now I'm in my usual uniform of lululemon wear. I have no intentions venturing outside. I may not even leave the house for the rest of the week, depending how I'm feeling. Yes, I'm exhausted. Yes, the weather is frightful. But thankfully I'm safe and sound at home, in close proximity to a bed if darling daughter decides to take a nap any time soon.

Christmas card writing marathon

Good lord, who knew that writing out and addressing Christmas cards would take four hours?

Yesterday, dear husband was home sick. (We were both sick). With the two of us at home, I took the opportunity to write out Christmas cards. I had my day plan: Christmas card writing, tree trimming and some knitting.

Well, wasn't I surprised that this task that I thought would take me an hour to complete took all day. I started around 11 a.m. and except for a half-hour break, I was done around 3:30 p.m. I started getting writer's cramp two hours into my task. I don't remember last year's Christmas card writing session taking four hours. And I wasn't writing anything elaborate either, just a small message underneath the printed greeting and inserting a photo of darling daughter in some of the cards.

Once I was done my Christmas card writing marathon, I was pooped. I didn't feel like writing a blog entry. I had no energy to tackle one of my many knitting projects or drag the Christmas decorations from the basement to trim the tree. Our poor artificial tree is looking pretty sparse as it sits ignored in the corner. Other than the lights (it is a pre-lit tree) there isn't a single ornament on it. I'd like to say today is the day that we decorate the tree, but I'm running on two hours of sleep today. Maybe tomorrow would be a good day to do it as Wednesday is suppose to be a snow day. With 20 to 30 centimetres of snow predicted for the Ottawa area, I may manage to find enough Christmas spirit to decorate the tree with a toddler in tow.

Meal planning extravaganza

In my quest to become a domestic goddess in the kitchen, I've taken to meal planning with a vengeance. I've made meals for the last five evenings. Any leftovers we have have been frozen and will be used at the end of the month during the holiday rush. Today, I did an entire inventory of the pantry and the freezers and made lists. I used those lists to help create a meal plan for the upcoming week. I scoured websites for new recipes. I opened up cook books that haven't been open for years. I based my grocery list on my meal plan. Yes, it was certainly an exciting way to spend a Friday afternoon.

I don't like cooking, but meal planning is helping to bridge the gap. I'm even starting to get excited about cooking. But before I start planning my ticker tape parade, I know that this meal planning momentum I have will likely peter out and I may return back to opening up the refrigerator door at 3 p.m., wondering what is for dinner. Although I know I'm not going to be Rachel Ray or Jaime Oliver, but I'm hoping I can at least serve dinner every night at 5 p.m.

Stick happy

I think I may have gone a little crazy with the wall decals.

Creating darling daughter's playroom has been a work in progress for the last several months. First, I had to declutter the room. Second, I had to buy two toy storage units: one for the playroom and the other for the living room. And third, I had to find the motivation to finally finish putting it all together.

Lately, I been feeling pretty motivated. I almost want to say that I'm a domestic goddess with all the meal planning, cleaning and planning I've been doing for the last several days. In theory, I'd like to finish darling daughter's playroom by this weekend. My motivation to finish it comes in the form of a Christmas tree. Once that sucker is up, she'll probably won't be able to resist temptation. If all fails (and when I mean fail, I mean if the Christmas tree topples over due to the rambunctiousness of a very excitable toddler), we can head downstairs and play in the playroom.

I think one of reasons I haven't been all that motivated to finish the playroom is because it is downstairs in the basement. I find it a bit dreary downstairs. Who wants to play in a room with only a sliver of a window to let light in? To cheer the room up, I bought wall decals from a Buck or Two. Well, I went a little stick happy with the wall decals. I've got a mermaid theme one wall. I've got a wall and a half covered with fairies, some of which glow in the dark. I've got cute sparkly animals and I have an jungle/dinosaur motif on the back wall. I think I have it covered, literally.

So here's hoping that I get the playroom done by this weekend. I don't want to chance having a toddler playing with a Christmas tree. Too dangerous for my liking.

I welcome productivity

The last several days have very productive ones. I've made dinner every day this week. I've tackled laundry. I've vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom and washed the floors. I've dug out the Christmas decorations out of my very packed storage closet. I started to put together darling daughter's playroom, putting up wall statics and rearranging items. I finally got around to delivering the two garbage bags of aluminum cans to my next door neighbour. (Several months ago, she asked us to collect our cans for her. I think they go to charity). I've ordered photos for my Christmas cards. I figured how how to magic loop. Now the sleeve of a sweater I'm knitting doesn't look so sad. I've put together darling daughter's Christmas stocking. All I have to do now is wrap her gifts.

I welcome productivity. It makes me feel so productive. I'm hoping this trend will continue because I have quite the list I need to accomplish before Christmas.

O Christmas tree

This is last year's Christmas tree. Notice the very noticeable tilt? I refused to allow dear husband to straighten it out because I was afraid it would fall again. If my memory serves me correctly, I believe it was a couple of days before Christmas when our very real Christmas tree decided to crash on the floor, just minutes after I watered it. I wanted to cry. I think I may have did. There was pine needles and dirty water everywhere. I do remember making a frantic phone call to dear husband at work, informing him it was all his fault that the tree fell on the floor. He didn't even have a chance to reply because I rudely hung up the phone. It was certainly an afternoon to remember.

I vowed last year we would never have a repeat of Christmas 2008. I'm tired of real trees, their real needles shedding on my floor and their tendency to crash. It is artificial all the way this year, especially with a very active toddler on the go. But the question is should I get a small tree or a large tree?

I have no desire to police darling daughter and tell her to step away from the tree. The following conversation plays in my head when I think of setting up a Christmas tree: "Get away from the tree, please. I said, please move away from the tree. No, don't take the decorations off the tree. Be gentle. I said gentle. Or dear, I don't think that snowflake ornament will be the same. The tree isn't a snack so stop gnawing on the branches. If I said it, I've said it a million times, stay away from the tree. Oh dear God in heaven, I said, STEP AWAY FROM THE TREE." Not a very Christmasey conversation to have with a toddler, in my opinion.

As I see it, my options are the following: (1) have no tree; (2) have a small tree and set it up on a table behind the love seat so I have the illusion of a full tree; or (3) get a big tree and let the chips fall where they may. We haven't decided what to do. I'm leaning on having no tree at all, but that is the Scrooge in me talking. We'll likely get a tree. We'll likely have to police darling daughter in staying away from said tree. And the tree will likely crash again. Not from the help of gravity, but likely by a very curious toddler.

Meal planning Mondays

In September, I blogged about my immense dislike of meal planning. I'm not much a big meal planner. In fact, I'm not much of a chef. I like to bake, but I detest cooking. That's what take out is for.

However, take out is not economical feasible or healthy. So someone has to cook meals and that someone is me as barbecue season has now come to a close. Lately, I've been doing okay in the meal making/planning department. Although I didn't plan any meals in advance last week, I made most of them. The only stumble in my new dinner making regime was on Friday. Dear husband decided that he didn't want leftovers and I decided to continue on the bad food day I was having (I had a burger and fries for lunch) that we decided to get some pizza slices for dinner. I hope to redeem myself this week.

So this week I decided it was time to bite the bullet, come up with a meal plan and grocery shop accordingly. Hopefully it will work. Tonight we are having chicken tetrazzini, which is simmering in the slower cooker as I write this. Tomorrow will be slow cooker lasagna. I have even browned the hamburger meat. Also on the list is meat loaf, a good ol' standby in our household. We bought a small whole chicken which will make a delicious meal. I was planning to make almond chicken and rice sometime this week, but I'm not a big fan of frying chicken in a frying pan. Too much work for my taste. Earlier today I found a slow cooker recipe for a chicken dish. I've already got all the ingredients, so I may make that instead. Although I dislike cooking, I'm a big fan of my slow cooker. I like assembling my meals in the slow cooker in the morning and turning it on. Not only does it make my house smell delicious and homey, it takes the pressure off of assembling meals around 3 or 4 p.m.

I'm hoping my new meal planning mantra sticks as I'm tired of opening up the refrigerator door, wondering what's for dinner.

Operation Santa a success, well sort of

This morning I decided it was a good time as any to make a quick visit to our neighbourhood mall Santa Claus. Last year, we went early in the Christmas season and I was able to include the photos of our visit in Christmas cards. They were a hit. If I get my act together, friends and relatives will be receiving similar photos this year of a larger baby with much more hair.

The visit went over relatively okay. Although darling daughter didn't burst into tears, she had quite a confused, serious look on her face. Who the heck is this strange man with a big bushy white beard? the look on her face said. Why are you handing me to him? And why is there a woman taking photos of us?

At this age, the only reason I head to the local mall for a visit for Santa is strictly for the photo op. I readily handed over $12 to get darling daughter's photo taken with the big guy. And although she wasn't impressed, I do enjoy the photos. The way I figure it this is likely the last year for a few years at least that we can get photos taken with Santa. I'm sure next Christmas she'll be in that age where she'll burst into tears once she sits on Santa's lap.

Decoding the laundry mystery

I may need Huckle cat from Busytown Mysteries to help me solve this one. I'm trying to decode the laundry mystery. How can a family of three produce so much laundry? On Sunday, I washed, dried and folded about four loads of laundry. Although my memory is a bit hazy, I recall folding towels, darling daughter's clothes and two loads of mine and dear husband's laundry. And I think I may have even washed a load of my gym clothes.

Four days later, I find myself doing a load of whites, darks, an entire load of darling daughter's clothing and a separate load of dishcloths. (I've got a dishcloth fetish. I go through about five dishcloths a day. Although I have quite the dishcloth collection, I find myself washing dishcloths about every four to five days).

I find that once I'm done washing, drying and folding, the sensation of a job well done doesn't last long as the dirty laundry starts accumulating in the clothes hampers. It almost makes me want to cry.

Maybe it is the convenience of having laundry facilities in my own home. It may be a different story if we had to go to a laundromat to do laundry. Perhaps we just produce a lot of laundry. Or maybe we are just like any other family with a young child: lots of laundry is just a part of parenthood.

If anyone out there can help me decode the laundry mystery, please let me know. Excuse me as I fish my latest load out of the washer and into the dryer. Ah, the laundry cycle. It never ends.

Goodbye my huge bag of chocolate chips. I'm surprised you lasted so long

This morning I said goodbye to the two kilogram bag of chocolate chips I bought at Costco a couple of months ago.

Although I'm sad to see it go, I'm glad it will longer tempt me with its chocolaty goodness. A month ago I blogged about this very bag of chocolate chips. I thought I'd be thrifty and buy chocolate chips in bulk in an attempt to save money. I have spurts where I'll make a lot of chocolate chip muffins, mainly to take with me to playdate potlucks or book club. Between the spurts where I'm not baking muffins, I often find myself indulging in a small handful of semi-sweet chocolate chips throughout the day. Hiding the bag was no use. I'd often hear it calling my name, even if it was hiding in the deep freezer downstairs.

So this morning I managed to use the last meager cup of chocolate chips left in the bag in a batch of banana muffins. (Although a couple of chips did make their way into my mouth). So the bag is no more. Although there are no more chocolate chips left in the house, I do have a small bag of peanut M&Ms to finish off. Once that is gone, there will be no more chocolate left to tempt me. It will be interesting to see how long I can go without chocolate. Even if I cave and buy the odd chocolate treat or two, I'm never going to buy chocolate chips in bulk again. It is too tempting.

Twilight madness: will the addiction ever end?

After seeing New Moon last night, I broke down and bought the entire series. I broke two cardinal rules of mine: (1) spending money frivolously and (2) buying books. Several months ago, I made a pact with myself not to buy books because I never re-read them. Instead I borrow them from the library. But addictions seem to know no bounds and I'm in desperate need of a Twilight fix.

In June, I blogged about my Twilight obsession, which started innocently enough. One day while walking pass the express reads shelf at my local library, I spotted the book Twilight. I had heard about the book from others and I decided to see what the hype was about. After the second chapter, I was hooked. I borrowed the three remaining books from a friend and in a period of three weeks I had read the entire series.

In my first blog posting about Twilight, I wrote the following: I know writing about this is terribly silly as I am a 30-something woman who has a young child, but in the last three weeks I have tapped into my 17-year-old excitable teenage self by reading Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series. I have sat for hours, turning page after page, reading. I’ve stayed up late, reading. I’ve continued reading while dear husband has attempted to have conversations with me, to no avail because I’m too busy reading. I have discussed the books with friends. I have watched the Twilight movie. (And I’d watch it again if it wasn’t for the fact I’m too cheap to order it again from Rogers on Demand). And I have watched the New Moon trailer on the Internet several times. Oh, for the love of God, I don’t know how I got hooked on a story involving a vampire and a naïve, but clumsy teenaged girl, but I did and now I’m going through withdrawal since finishing the series.

After that blog post, my Twilight addiction slowly eased. At the time I was glad I had borrowed the books because I'd be tempted to read them over and over again. However, my addiction has returned with a vengeance after seeing New Moon last night. I, with four other friends, lined up to see the movie. We bought our tickets in advance. We were squished like sardines, waiting for the theatre doors to open. And once they did open, it was pandemonium. People ran towards the doors, pushing people out of the way, squeezing through the narrow doors. At one point, I thought the movie employee trying to do crowd control was going to be trampled on by excitable teenage girls eager to see Edward and Bella's return to the silver screen. It was craziness. But definitely worth it.

Although we weren't all able to sit together, me and another friend found two seats together near the front of the theatre. Despite our close proximity to the screen, they were pretty darn good seats. As expected, there were passionate screams when Edward first appeared on the screen. More screams were heard during Bella's first scene with Jacob. I cried when Edward left Bella. I quickly mopped up the tears with my sleeve, hoping no one saw me cry. The movie stayed true to the book and there was even a cliffhanger ending for those who haven't read the series.

When I came home last night, I was definitely on a Twilight high. A friend called this morning, telling me to turn the channel to MTV because they had a behind-the-scenes look of the making of Twilight and New Moon movies. So the addiction that I thought I had conquered when I finished the series is back. And the only way for me to quell the temptation to break into my local library branch and scour the stacks for Twilight books is to buy the entire series.

And that's what I did. I went to Shoppers Drug Mart and bought the entire series. (Tip: if you are looking for new books, check out Shoppers. For a pharmacy, they do have a good selection of books at reasonable prices). By buying the books at Shoppers, I was also feeding another addiction: collecting Optimum points.

After quickly snatching the books off the shelf, I powered walked to the cash. While paying for the books, I had a conversation with the teenage boy cashier.

Cashier: So you are buying the Twilight series?

Me: Yep. I borrowed the books from a friend, but I really need to read the series again after seeing the movie last night.

Cashier: So you have read the books and seen the movies and you are buying the series?

Me: Yes. I can't really explain it. (How can a 30-something woman explain to a teenage boy that she has addiction to a series that involves vampires and a klutzy girl?)

Cashier: That's kind of funny.

Kind of funny is the understatement of the year. I can't explain my addiction or my decision to invest $50 into books I've already read. But the way I see it is that I have at least another two movies, even three if Breaking Dawn is split into two movies, to see. And if I have this kind of reaction after seeing New Moon, I'm sure I'll have the same experience in the future. And I read the books so quickly that I owe it to myself to re-read them again before I see any more movies.

So please excuse me as I've got four books to devour.

I'll take what I can get

With winter around the corner, I've got to stock up on sleepers, a staple in any toddler's wardrobe. Today, I had to make a trip to Costco. Several months ago, I blogged about Costco raising its prices on Pekkle sleepers. At one time, they were sold for $7.49. In March, they jacked up the price to $9.49, a $2 difference. I, and some other mothers I know, weren't happy with the price increase. Well, imagine my surprise today when I saw a sign above the sleepers, stating they were $7.99 each.

I'm not too sure when Costco lowered the price on its sleepers. Maybe it happened months ago, or maybe it happened more recently. Regardless, I'm glad that I can get Pekkle sleepers cheaper than I could back last spring. Although the company didn't lower the price to $7.49, I'll take what I can get. So thanks, Costco for lowering your prices. Every little helps. I got to keep track of every penny, especially now with the provincial government set to introduce a harmonized sales tax next summer.

Horrifying but fascinating at the same time

They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I'm sure we can all think of things we do in our life that we do the same over and over again, hoping the results will be different, but they never are.

In my household, one of the things that comes to mind that fits that definition is vacuuming. The only carpet we have is on the stairs leading upstairs and downstairs. Every time dear husband vacuums the stairs, I have high hopes that they will be clean. While they look relatively less dingy and grimy when he puts the vacuum away, they are still dingy and grimy.

Well, this week we bit the bullet, laid out several hundred dollars and bought a Dyson. Before making our purchase this week, I always wondered Dyson lived up to the hype. Well, I am impressed.Very impressed. The above photo is what the Dyson pulled out of the carpet that covers both stairs.

We were both horrified and fascinated at the dirt in the bin. (Dear husband remarked that he always thought the stairs were "clean" when he was done vacuuming. Obviously they weren't). Every time I vacuum with the Dyson it is like a science experiment. I'm always wondering what it will manage to suck up. I even vacuumed the keyboard of my laptop. Along with the dirt, it sucked up a couple of keys that I had to rescue from the bin.

I'm not surprised that the Dyson was able to pull that much crap out of the carpet. We have laminate flooring throughout the house and controlling the dust bunnies that I often find rolling underneath the beds and crib is an ongoing task. I don't want to give the impression that the Dyson was able to restore my carpet to its original state (it is cheap carpet and it is looking quite worn), but my stairs are looking incredibly less dingy and grimy.

I want to stress that we didn't buy the Dyson to clean the cheap carpet on our stairs. We bought it for dust control. In particular to control dust mites as well as to eliminate their habitat. After cleaning the stairs and the downstairs foyer, I tackled our mattress. For those who have dust mite allergies, one way to control those allergies is trying to eliminate the source: dust mites as well as their fecal matter. Unfortunately, humans attract dust mites. They feed on flakes of the skin we shed. (I know disgusting). Obviously, they flourish in areas where we spend a lot of time, like our bedrooms.

I won't get into too much detail of what the Dyson was able to pick up from the mattress, but I was amazed and disgusted at the same time. Honestly, I should have kept the plastic bag the mattress came in.

Buying a Dyson was a good investment for us. Not only does it control dust, it almost makes cleaning fun.

Coughing in public in a post-H1N1 world

To the woman who was standing in front of me at the front cash last Saturday afternoon: I don't have H1N1. Promise!

I'm really sorry for the coughing fit. I'm sure you were really nervous and annoyed at me, but it couldn't be helped. These coughing spells of mine happen usually out of the blue, without much notice. I'm sure you were pretty happy to get the hell away from me when the second cash opened. I'm so sorry for my choking performance. I would have left the store when my coughing fit started, but wool yarn is on sale this week and it was too much of a bargain to pass up.

To back up, last week I spent the entire week inside because I was showing cold-like symptoms, congestion and a cough. I didn't even venture out to the gym because I was too scared to cough in public. But as the week wore on, I concluded I didn't have a cold. I have allergies.

While this may sound like good news, it isn't. At least a cold ends. My allergy attacks take forever to disappear. I was dreading this may happen. Five years ago, I had a horrific allergy attack that lasted from the end of December to April. I was severely congested and I had a terrible seal-like barking cough. A couple of times I even lost use of my voice. The culprit, you ask? Dust mites.

I've never seen a dust mite. They are too small to be seen by the naked eye. But they make my life miserable. I wait for the day when they are officially on the endangered species list. But I doubt that will ever happen. It is estimated that 10 per cent of the population are allergic to dust mites. Those who aren't allergic to dust mites aren't allergic to the actual mite per say, but they are allergic to their feces. And my allergic reactions to dust mites seem to be the worst in the winter when the house is closed and the humidity is high.

I won't get into the details because they can get quite sickening, but dust mites are everywhere. The only thing that "cured" me the last time was allergy needles. The last time I got a shot was two years ago around the time I got pregnant with darling daughter. Since that time, I've had my fingers crossed that I would never experience anything like that again. But it looks like my luck has run out.

To get me through the last week, I've been using my neti pot constantly and now I'm taking over the counter allergy medications. I'm not too sure how long I can keep up this regiment up. I'm tired because I'm not getting any sleep because I have coughing fits. I'm afraid to go out in public in case I have another coughing fit. But thanks to the neti pot, at least I can breath. Last time this happened it sounded like I had a perpetual cold.

Living with allergies is not fun. The snow has yet to fly and I'm already looking forward to spring.

The new era of gift giving

I've discovered the secret of holiday shopping.

Life is much easier when you don't do it.

It is as simple as that.

I've decided that I don't want anything for Christmas. I told my mother today not to buy us anything and I told her to pass that message along to my brother. We'll do a gift exchange for the kids, but other than that, save your moolah, I declared.

So if you were contemplating getting me a gift this year, don't bother. Do as the ING Direct guy says: save your money.

Earlier this fall, I spent days decluttering the basement. And it felt good getting rid of stuff. I made numerous trips to Goodwill to unload my unwanted stuff. Anything that I didn't get rid of is now crammed into the small storage closet downstairs. I've got no storage room. And plus, I really don't need anything.

Plus, as a parent, I've got another type of clutter to deal with: toy clutter. Yesterday, I weeding through darling daughter's toy collection upstairs. I introduced new toys and I put away old toys that no longer captures her attention. She'll likely be spoiled this Christmas. And if I was to get gifts, not only would I have to find room for my items, I have to find room for her new toys. Life is already complicated enough. I don't need more complications.

I've already told dear husband he'll be getting a gift certificate of some sort. He's okay with that.

I may sound like scrooge, but in this new era of recessions and downsizing, I say save your money. You'll thank me later.

Toy confusion

This plastic baby bottle with bow-tie pasta and brown rice is darling daughter's favourite toy today. I quickly put it together this morning. And she loves it.

Sometimes I wonder why I buy her toys. Give her a couple of face cloths, a bib or a pair of her own shoes, she's happy for hours. Buy her a new Little People set or an Elmo World phone, they might capture her attention for a couple of minutes throughout the day.

So now I'm on the fence when it comes to Christmas gift giving. I've got three Little People sets sitting in the storage closet for her for under the Christmas tree. (I bought them when they were on sale). While she isn't all that big about the big Little People sets, she does enjoy playing with the actual Little People. But isn't three Little People sets too much for a little girl? The good thing with these sets is that I can keep them and save them for later, or give them out to others for birthday gifts. They certainly won't go to waste.

Some of the moms on one of the online message boards I belong to employ the something you want, something you need, something to wear, and something to read policy. Plus, Santa may leave a little something under the tree and in their stockings.

I really like that policy. I really do. But I've got a tendency to overspend at Christmas and I don't know if I can hold to that policy. Last year I did okay, but I have done better and stuck to the original plan of being thrifty. Because at the time, darling daughter was only five months old and she really didn't need anything. Plus, it looks like dear husband is becoming worse in the gift giving department. He couldn't resist and bought her several toys last year.

As well as the Little People sets, I also bought her a wooden puzzle and a rattle with bells, for her stocking. So if I think about it, one of the Little People sets could be filed under the something you want category. Since I bought a bunch of books for her in recent month, I'll replace the book with the puzzle for the something to read category.

I'm stumped when it comes to the something you need category. She's 15 months. She doesn't really need anything. So I may just use one of the Little People sets to fill that vacancy or buy her some Fred Penner CDs. We do need more music CDs. And for the something to wear, well, she's a clothes horse. I've spent a lot of clothes in recent months, but I may make her a hat if I find the time.

The third Little People set can always be given to her from Santa.

So yeah. If I stick by that plan, I should be good. But I find it so hard not to cave in and buy more at Christmas. I'll keep you updated in how I do.

Remembering modern day heroes

I don't know Master Corporal Marcie Lane. I've never met her. But I think of her and her daughter, Olivia, often.

Like many, I was introduced to Marcie and her family through news stories by CTV Ottawa in September 2008. The news crew profiled Petawawa residents Marcie and her common law husband, Master Cpl. Scott Vernelli. The couple had just welcomed their daughter Olivia into the world. In fact, Marcie labour was induced a week early so Scott could meet and spend time with his baby girl before being deployed to Afghanistan later that month.

The images of the happy, smiling young couple holding their infant daughter have always stuck with me. Although I could relate to what they were going through because at the time darling daughter was about six weeks old, I couldn't comprehend what they were facing; he being sent to a war torn country while his baby daughter and wife stayed in Canada, waiting for his safe return. I know this is a reality for many military families and I have a great admiration for the sacrifices they make for this country.

Like many Canadians, my heart sunk when news broke in March that Scott died when an improvised explosive device exploded while he was on patrol in the Zhari district of Afghanistan. His friend and comrade, Cpl. Tyler Crooks, also died in the attack. My heart went out to his wife and his daughter. He'd never see his daughter grow up and Olivia would never know her father.

Marcie's strength constantly amazes me. Last night I watched a moving piece on her and her daughter on the CBC's The National. If you do have a moment, please watch it. (The piece is called Olivia's hero). Marcie, who is a military photographer, takes the portraits of military personal before they are deployed. These are the same photos are that handed out to the media when a solider is killed. Soldiers call them death photos. But Marcie has a different name for them. "I quickly correct them. It is now your hero portrait," she says.

Marcie says she clearly remembers when she realized Scott wouldn't be coming back to Petawawa safely. The doorbell rang at Friday, March 20 at 6:15 a.m. She sat up in bed and she instantly knew the news that was waiting for her behind her front door. "I said out loud, 'Olivia, daddy's gone.' "


When the news was confirmed, she realized what it meant for her daughter.


"I remember saying, 'No, I have a baby sleeping in her crib upstairs who will never know her dad."


In the days after her husband's death, I remember seeing footage of Marcie standing at attention, saluting her Scott's casket, while holding her daughter. She was so courageous and strong. She was later given Olivia's booties, the same booties she word home from the hospital. They were found in the secret pocket inside Scott's uniform.


Towards the end of the National segment I was crying. Like I said at the beginning of this post, I've never met Marcie and I never had the opportunity to meet her husband. But I just want her to know that Scott isn't only Olivia's hero. He, and all his comrades who have sacrificed their lives while serving in Afghanistan, are my heroes too. And I'm sure a lot of Canadians feel the same way I do.

How do you grocery shop when you live in a bubble?

The inside of my refrigerator tells a subtle tale of the last week.

Yep, it is clean, but we had no food.

It was last Thursday when I officially realized we had no food. I managed to make dinner with some frozen pork chops that I found in the freezer and apples left over from a jaunt to an apple orchard in September. And it was tasty. Thank God for the Internet as it is a great resource in finding recipes that meet paltry ingredient list requirements.

The following night, dear husband had the left over pork chops for dinner and I ate a English muffin with cream cheese, along with some blueberries and yogurt that was set to expire in a couple of days. I wasn't too concern about the yogurt's level of quality. It’s yogurt. Isn’t it already spoiled milk?

It was Saturday afternoon before one of went to the grocery store. Dear husband blinked first and he did the thankless, but necessary, task. It is out of pure laziness that I didn't go out and fix this problem earlier in the week. On Thursday night I went to a spinning class, followed up with a Body Step class on Friday evening. What was dear husband’s excuse, you ask? He claimed he was too tired to do anything other than put darling daughter to bed and pick up toys off the living room floor.

Now, since I’m a stay at home mom, it would make sense that I would go out to the grocery store and buy my family groceries. But since all this H1N1 stuff has happened, I am very careful where I take darling daughter. I thought about stuffing a couple of disinfectant wipes in a Ziplock bag to wipe down the grocery cart, but that still wouldn’t prevent her contracting a cold or the flu if someone was to cough or sneeze. The poor kid. The only time she has left the house was a week ago tomorrow for Kindermusik. And now since Kindermusik is now over, I have no clue when she’ll leave the house. We were suppose to go to a playdate this morning, but I had to cancel because I have a cough and it looks like I may be coming down with a cold. So much for bubble living because it seems the germs can still infect my imaginary force field.

So basically we are suffering from bubble syndrome. And I’m not alone. I surmise from conversations from other moms many feel like they are living in a bubble, trying to limit their children’s interaction with the outside world. And who can blame them or me for that matter? But living in a bubble is boring. And I’m unsure how much longer I can take of this. A woman can only listen to Fred Penner so many times. But that, my loyal readers, is a whole different post for another day.

My question was sort of answered . . .

Yesterday, I blogged about my excitement of having a question I submitted to a radio station read on air. For days, I've been puzzled about a media report I heard on the radio that stated the World Health Organization was recommending the half dose of the H1N1 vaccine was sufficient for young children and the booster wasn't required. However, I've been having difficulties finding another news article or a WHO press release that confirms the news report I heard.

So when CFRA announced it was accepting questions from listeners, I quickly sent off a short email, asking if my daughter needed the booster. And I got my question answered, well, sort of.

Dr. Vera Etches, associate medical officer of health with Ottawa Public Health, said the second shot is being discussed and a recommendation whether it is needed or not should be coming soon. She hopes the recommendation is made before the first round of children, who received a vaccine a week and a half ago, reach day 21. When we took darling daughter to the vaccine clinic last Saturday we were told she'd need a booster in 21 days. I know a lot of parents are anxious to learn if the booster is required. Hopefully some kind of recommendation, made nationally or locally, is made in the very near future.

Has it really come down to this?

It appears that the simple things now are the highlight of my entire day.

As many of you may know, I listen to talk radio for most of the day. I feel talk radio keeps connected with the world around me. I also like listening to adult conversations, which are lacking in my household during daytime hours. While I may not agree with their opinions or the topics they talk about, the discussions make for interesting listening.

This morning, CFRA host Steve Madely invited listeners to submit H1N1 questions for an upcoming interview with an official with Ottawa Public Health. I thought this was the perfect opportunity to get an answer to a question that has been puzzling me for days. Earlier this week, I heard a news report that the World Health Organization is advising that the half dose is sufficient for young children. However, I've had a difficult time finding a press release or another news article that confirms this news report.

Once Steve asked listeners to submit questions, I logged into email account and fired off an email. I've heard reports that the World Health Organization is saying that one dose of the vaccine (they receive half that what an adult gets) is sufficient for young children and they don't require the booster. I quickly typed. What is Ottawa Public Health recommending? Will my 1 year old daughter need the booster?

Well, I was surprised when Steve read my question almost word for word on the air. I was almost giddy. And I would have likely jumped up and down in excitement if Steve had said my name. So, when dear husband comes home this evening and asks how my day went, I'll be smiling because Steve Madely read my question on air.

And to write that publicly makes me sound kind of lame. But when comparing it to the daily grind of cleaning of crushed goldfish crackers, doing laundry and cleaning up toys, of course this is the highlight of my day. Now I've got to remember to tune in early tomorrow morning to hear the answer to my question.

No more Tuesdays . . .

About two months ago I wrote about our foray into Kindermusik. At the time, I had my doubts about Kindermusik. We were the oldest mother-child duo in the class, which posed several challenges. Since darling daughter was fully mobile and most of the kids weren't, I felt like I had to police her so she wouldn't stumble over the other babies or poke them in the eye. Yes, it wasn't the most relaxing class I've ever participated in.

After eight weeks, our time with Kindermusik is over. And our participation rate was pretty good. We only missed two classes due to a cold (darling daughter) and a doctor's appointment (me). I'm kind of sad that we won't be going anymore. However, I don't think we could do another class with such an age gap between babies. Six or 10 months doesn't sound like much a big age gap, but in babyhood and toddlerhood, it is huge. Although I will likely have to give it more thought, but we might consider enrolling into Kindermusik again. But it will likely have to be in the spring. That way, darling daughter will be eligible for the older class.

Time change change-up

Yesterday, I was revelling in the fact I had an extra hour. Today, not so much.

Between getting the H1N1 vaccine and the time change, darling daughter didn't have a great sleep last night. She woke up several times last night. Which meant I woke up several times last night. Added with the fact that I forgot to change the time on my alarm clock on Saturday night, I was majorly confused when I woke up in the morning. When my eyes fluttered open, I thought it was 6 a.m. But in fact, it was 5 a.m., which made sense because it seemed to dark for 6 a.m. About an hour later, I almost had a little panic attack when I saw the little hand approach 7 a.m. because dear husband had not gotten out of bed yet for work. I thought he had slept in. When I woke him up, he pointed out to me that it was not yet 6 a.m. He was not impressed.

So now darling daughter's schedule is a mess. Dear husband is tired because darling daughter woke up several times during the night and I'm getting depressed because there is only about an hour or so of daylight left. The sun seems to be getting too close to the horizon for my liking. I'm not a fan of this time of year. The days are too short and the weather is too cool, which is a sign of winter approaching. I saw a Christmas commercial for the first time today. Yikes! I hope the next several months fly by because I'm ready for spring.

Rediscovering Halloween

When I was a kid, I hated Halloween. I absolutely hated it. The night usually ended in tears, with me crying. I was a painfully shy kid and the idea of dressing up and going to stranger's houses was certainly not a fun one. I celebrated the Halloween when I was technically too old to trick and treat. Staying at home and handing out candy suited me just fine.

I'm still not big on dressing up, but I'm starting to understand why people like Halloween. It is kind of magical in a way. People decorate their houses, get to carve pumpkins and hand out candy to the spooky little ghosts and goblins that haunt their doorsteps. And of course there is the candy. Halloween wouldn't be complete without candy.

Last night, dear husband and I decided at the last moment to take darling daughter trick and treating. Our initial plan was to dress her up and have her "help" hand out candy to the kids. But since we had such a stressful day and it was such a lovely evening, we thought going out might be a fun way to end the day. Dear husband got out the wagon and off we went to roam the neighbourhood. I almost cried when I saw darling daughter sitting in the wagon in her butterfly costume. She has grown so much. Last year at this time, she wasn't mobile at all. In fact, she couldn't even roll over. She'd lie on the floor and kick her legs. Now she is toddling and babbling. It is amazing how many changes have occurred in the last 365 days.

We were out for about 45 minutes. Actually, I think dear husband had the most fun. At one point I had to put my foot down and insist we go home. I believe the reason he had so much fun is he is the main beneficiary of darling daughter's candy haul.

So Halloween is over for another year. We are picking through the leftover Halloween candy and I've got to take down the decorations. I know next year we'll be going trick and treating again. And I'll likely shed some tears because darling daughter will be in a bigger costume and will likely be walking house to house, instead of being carried by dear husband.

Mission accomplish

Before I get started, I just want to give a big gold star to the front line workers at Ottawa Public Health's H1N1 flu shot clinics. From what I witnessed today, staff were all professional, calm and empathic while working in an environment of organized chaos. And what I say organized chaos, I don't mean it as a criticism. Having hundreds, if not thousands of people, line up for limited spots, many of whom could be a panicky and cranky, doesn't exactly lend itself to calm working conditions.

As I blogged yesterday, dear husband tried to get a wrist band for darling daughter. Unfortunately, he wasn't successful. He was about 100 people short of getting one. So early this morning we enacted Plan B. Plan B consisted of dear husband getting up at 3 a.m. and arriving at the flu clinic at 3:30 a.m. Mind you, wrist bands were being handed out at 7:30 a.m., with the clinic opening at 9 a.m. Arriving at 3:30 a.m. seemed a little extreme. However, I'd like to point out that dear husband wasn't the first to arrive. One person arrived at 2 a.m. to stake out a spot. Several people who had arrived in the early morning hours had been turned away at previous clinics in the week.

When we went over Plan B late last night, I thought we were a bit crazy. But according to dear husband, the line really started to grow around 4:30 a.m. So maybe weren't crazy after all.

I had my doubts about lining up and waiting for hours for a vaccination. But as the week has worn on, the line ups seem to be getting worse, not better. And while family physicians have been invited to apply for vaccine, it remains to be seen when that vaccine will be delivered and when those flu clinics will open. It could be days or it could be weeks. Who knows? And there are no guarantees the primary health clinic I'm a patient of will have a clinic. So we decided to bite the bullet and have dear husband get up early and line up.

Shortly after 7:30 a.m., dear husband called, saying was on his way to pick us up as we had to be at the clinic at 8 a.m. When we arrived, we were welcomed by a huge line up that snaked from outside and around the perimeter of the lobby. We waited for a good hour before our number was called and get darling daughter vaccinated. Once we were upstairs, it was smooth sailing. We handed in our papers and were led to a nurse who administrated the vaccination. Darling daughter didn't even cry. After waiting 15 minutes as recommended by public health officials, we were done.

Three weeks from now, we'll have to do it all over again as darling daughter only got half of her vaccination dose today. Hopefully the line ups will have died down a bit. If not, dear husband is willing to get up at 3 a.m. again.

H1N1 headache

Is this pandemic over yet? Because it is giving me a headache.

Sorry if I sound so trivial, but in my opinion fear is spreading faster than the flu. However, with that being said, dear husband and I decided to see if we could get one of those golden tickets (they are now handing out bracelets) being handed out at H1N1 clinics operated by Ottawa Public Health. One could argue that by lining up for the vaccine we are feeding into the fear. And they would have a point. But I'd like to get darling daughter get the vaccine sooner rather than later.

Dear husband went into work early in order to take the afternoon off in hopes of securing us a bracelet for darling daughter. He, and hundreds of others, lined up at a local arena. Unfortunately, he was about a 100 people away from getting a bracelet. Better luck next time.

So we are going to plan B it and do it all over again tomorrow. Now, I'm not hopeful that we will get a bracelet, but at this point all we can do is try.

I can't wait until the fear dies down a bit and health units are able to release some of the vaccines into the hands of family physicians. Because at this rate, it may take three or four months to deliver the vaccine to Ottawa residents who want it.

So we will see what transpires tomorrow.

Someone is going to have a tantrum and that someone is likely me

This one a day nap time thing is starting to become a pain in the you-know-what.

I thought I'd be smart today and delay nap time as long as I possibly could. But I think I shot myself in the foot.

At 12:45 p.m. darling daughter went down for her nap. At one, I watched the hot topics segment of The View and quickly ate a sandwich. Feeling tired myself, I thought I'd pay heed to the old saying of "sleep when the baby sleep" and take a nap. My eyes were closed for 15 minutes before I heard darling daughter whimper. At first I thought she'd go back to sleep. And for a couple of minutes I thought my assumption was proved correct because I didn't hear a peep coming from her room.

Then I heard quiet babbling. I can deal with quiet babbling. But then the babbling turned to cries and then I realized that nap time had come to a crashing halt.

And I didn't even get to have a nap myself.

So now darling daughter is wired. Or wound for sound, as my mother would call her condition. And I'm counting down to 5 p.m. Only two hours and five minutes to go. *Sigh* I had thought that once she transitioned to one nap a day she'd be taking long, leisurely afternoon naps. In my books, an hour nap doesn't qualify as long and leisurely.

I think she is overtired. In hindsight (oh, hindsight you are always 20/20) she should have gone down earlier for her nap. Unfortunately, new routines take some time to establish. *Sigh* But I still miss the morning nap.

Who do I petition to get the morning nap back?

It is official. Darling daughter has given up her morning nap.

God help us all.

I must say we had a good 14 1/2 month run. I've heard on the street that babies give up their naps around the time they approach their first birthday. I'm not too sure how true this is. There is also a nasty rumour floating around that toddlers eventually give up napping altogether. That gives me the shivers. Regardless, the situation I now face is darling daughter is not longer napping between the hours of 9 and 10 a.m.

While darling daughter may not miss her morning nap, I do. I miss it tremendously. I miss that hour to myself. That was the time I would typically take a shower and get ready for the day. Now I'm forced to take a quick shower and hope darling daughter doesn't get too bored playing in her crib and start flinging her toys onto the floor.

By lunchtime she is ready for a nap. Going for a nap time around lunch time has its pros and cons, the main con being she'll be back up and raring to go at 2 p.m. Her previous afternoon nap time was around 1:30 or 2 p.m. So while she was napping, I'd have some leisure time to myself. That three hour period between 2 and 5 p.m. is long. Too long. Way too long. Today I found myself counting down to 5 p.m. Darling daughter wasn't helping matters by flinging her toys over one of the baby gates and into the stairwell below. I even found one of the Trofast bins at the bottom the stairs.

I knew this day was coming, but I was in denial. I'm still in denial. I'm still hoping she'll reconsider and go back to the morning nap. If not, I guess I'll have to adjust to the new reality. So farewell morning nap. You'll be missed.

Dear Ottawa Citizen

Dear Ottawa Citizen,

Today I noticed copies of your Monday and Tuesday editions in my mailbox. I know that you are hoping by providing me -- a former Citizen subscriber -- with free copies of your paper for the next week or so will make me reconsider my position and sign up for a subscription.

However, you are doing the exact opposite. In the last week or so, I have been inundated with articles and broadcasts related to H1N1 in order to make a decision in terms of getting the Swine Flu vaccination for myself and my daughter. I have made a decision. We will be getting vaccinated. However, it remains to be seen when we will get our inoculations as the line ups at the vaccination clinics operated by Ottawa Public Health have been swamped by clients. I am now faced with the situation: do we wait in line for hours in the cold and risk darling daughter contracting illness or do we sit at home, unvaccinated. We in Ottawa can take some small comfort that we aren't alone as it is a similar story across the country. (Check out this article).

When I turn on the television, H1N1 leads the national and local newscasts. When I turn on the radio, H1N1 is what people want to talk about. At least I can turn off the channel or frequency when I've heard enough. Now, to my surprise, I'm getting H1N1 news delivered to my doorstep. Your papers were promptly filed away in the recycling bin. I tried calling your reader sale and service department today, but it was closed. I will call first thing in the morning to get your company to cease delivery of your product to my doorstep.

As a former journalist, you would think I'd be reading your paper with rapt attention, trying to education myself on the current situation. But I'm not. I am a mother to a young toddler who just can't take any more bad news. I do not want to mitigate the deaths of anyone who loses their life to H1N1. Their deaths are a tragedy and my heart goes out to their families. However, I can't feed into the fear. Like the virus itself, I'm eliminating my exposure to news related to H1N1. Depending on the wait times at local clinics, I will get vaccinated. But in the meantime, I've got to vaccinate myself against the news, even if that means temporarily putting my head into the sand.

Sincerely,

Valerie McLaughlin

Waddling into toddlerhood

In recent weeks and even days, I'm more aware that darling daughter is no longer a baby any more.

She seems bigger. She babbles constantly. She is saying a few words clearly, including her all-time favourite: daddy. She has given up her morning nap. She is becoming more independent. We attended a Halloween party on Saturday and she didn't want anything to do with me. She spent the entire party walking around, stealing toys from other kids and exploring the surroundings around her.

One of her favourite pastimes now is poking at her belly button. She discovered her belly button last week and since that time she has been poking at it constantly. She is absolutely fascinated by it. Sometimes she'll babble to it. In my books, that isn't baby behaviour. That is definitely toddler behaviour.

In recent days, we have been asking myself how did my baby get so big? Where did the time go? Those newborn baby days seem like they happened a lifetime ago. When I look through a Babies R Us flier now, I think she has outgrown most of the items advertised for sale. I'm not ready for darling daughter to become a toddler. But it is happening. This past summer, darling daughter and I would go on regular walks on nearby walking paths. During some of our walks, we'd encountered a 15 month old little boy. There was a striking difference developmentally between the little boy and darling daughter, who was about 12 months at the time. He just seem so much bigger, so mobile and so unbaby-like, compared to darling daughter. She is a couple of days shy of her 15 month birthday. Now she seems so much like that little boy -- bigger, mobile and unbaby-like. I can't ignore the reality anymore. We are waddling into toddlerhood kicking and screaming. And it isn't darling daughter who is doing the kicking and screaming. It is me.

I don't want to imagine what she'll be like in a month or six months from now. I'm trying to cherish every moment of her waning babyhood. It is hard, but exciting at the same time. But I'm not looking forward to the terrible twos.

H1N1 crunch time

Ottawa Public Health will be opening its H1N1 flu vaccination clinics on Monday. For the first seven to 14 days, Ottawa residents who meet certain criteria -- young children, pregnant women and health care workers -- will be able to receive the flu shot.

For the most part, I've been able to tune out most of the media reports in regards to H1N1. Sometimes ignorance can be bliss. But it hasn't been easy as the swine flu leads most newscasts. If Max Keeping and Carol Ann Meehan aren't talking about it at 6 p.m., then you can usually hear about it from Peter Mansbridge at 10 p.m. And if you want a double dose of H1N1 news, you can always tune in for Lloyd Robertson's newcast at 11 p.m.

Yeah, I think we are all H1N1-out.

Even though I have been able to tune most of the news out, there is no tuning out the fact that the flu season has arrived. For the last two years I haven't giving the flu much thought. For the most part I do get the seasonal flu vaccine, but I haven't received a flu shot in the last two years. And like most Canadians, I'm a little leery of rolling up my sleeve and getting a shot of vaccine that I feel hasn't been adequately tested enough. But at the same time, I don't want to fall ill from H1N1. It is a classic catch-22.

While I've got some time to give the subject some thought before deciding if I should roll up my sleeve, dear husband and I are still on the fence about darling daughter get the H1N1 vaccination. It is such a tough call. Right at this moment, I'm not too sure what I'm going to do. I guess all I can do is do some research and come up with a decision that I can live with.

The silence can be deafening

For days I’ve been debating with myself if I should even blog about this topic as it is so painful and heartbreaking. But when I do post on my blog, this is the very subject I most want to write about.

But as every day that passes, I am realizing that this is a subject that is rarely talked about, even among women. And when it is talked about, it is sometimes in whispers or hushed voices. And by not writing about it and expressing my own feelings, I am just aiding in the taboo nature surrounding early pregnancy loss.

Last week I suffered a miscarriage. This news is going to be a shocker for my family and friends who follow my blog. Many people don’t know I was even pregnant to begin with. I never had a chance to tell anyone because my pregnancy was over so quickly.

Yesterday, I stumbled over a short magazine article that questioned why the the subject of miscarriage is so taboo. Good question. Until I lost my own pregnancy, I didn’t give it much thought. When I was pregnant with darling daughter the word miscarriage made me physically flinch. I experienced bleeding early in my pregnancy and I was convinced that I was going to miscarry at any moment. I lived my life in weeks. I counted down every day. I only relaxed when I reached the 34th week mark. Those nine months were the most stressful weeks of my entire life.

When I miscarried last week, I told myself it was okay. I had prepared myself. I knew something wasn’t right. In the immediate days, I looked at my loss from a practical point of view in order to cope. It was early on in my pregnancy, I told myself. At least I know I can get pregnant. We will get pregnant again. I’m already blessed to have a child.

But those words no longer give me comfort. And being reasonable is no longer practical as my feelings are so overwhelming and can no longer be contained by practicalities. I’m sad. I’m angry. I’m mourning. I’m mad at my body because I feel like it betrayed me and continues to do so when I exhibit signs that can be mistaken for early pregnancy symptoms. Right now I’m not necessarily mourning the loss of a child, but the loss of an opportunity to have a child. Despite the fact that I lost my pregnancy so early on doesn’t make it any easier to accept what has happened to me.

And I have also found that this is the most lonely and isolating experience I have ever gone through in my life. Most women I know didn’t announce their pregnancy until after they pass the magic 12th week. Heck, when I was pregnant with darling daughter, I didn't officially announce my pregnancy to most of my co-workers until the 20th week. (However, I'm sure they already had an idea I was in the family way because I was getting bigger). Most miscarriages happen in the first trimester. So if a woman hasn’t told her friends and family that she is pregnant before the 12th week and if she happens to lose her pregnancy, she’ll likely be suffering in silence. And let me tell you, the silence surrounding pregnancy loss is deafening.

However, telling people that you are no longer pregnant is horrible and painful, too. My heart broke when I told my mother the bad news.

Although there are conflicting statistics, it is believed one in five pregnancies will end in miscarriage. While the odds are on a woman’s side that she will have a baby at the end of her pregnancy, it doesn’t always end like that. And if you think about the frequency of pregnancy loss, it is quite ironic that in our society we don’t talk more about it.

But at the same time, why would we want to talk about it? It is a depressing and heart wrenching subject. No newly pregnant woman wants to think that she may miscarry. It is a catch 22. By not talking about it, we just feed into the taboo and those who suffer a loss may feel like they have no other choice other to grieve in silence.

This grief thing is weird. Dear husband and my friends have been so supportive through this experience. However, even though I do talk about it, and it is therapeutic to talk about it, I feel very alone. Perhaps this feeling relates to the fact that this happened to me -- my body -- and that I had no control over the outcome.

I am not writing this post to garner sympathy or to add to the pity party that I’ve been hosting for myself in recent days. My intent isn’t to make people feel uncomfortable or awkward. By writing about this, I hope to create awareness surrounding pregnancy loss and to help to break the silence. By talking about it, I hope women who are going through this will take comfort that they aren’t alone.

Rethinking my love for Trofast

A couple of weeks ago, I blogged about my new Trofast unit. At the time, I was so excited when dear husband assembled our new organizational unit for darling daughter's toys. I still take some enjoyment in its plastic and pine glory, but I am so sick of picking up toys.

It didn't take long for darling daughter to figure out how to get the plastic bins out the pine unit. And when she isn't taking the bins out of the unit, she is tossing the toys out the bins. For a 15 month old, she is a smart cookie.

So once darling daughter is done having breakfast, the toy chaos begins. Toys are flung in every direction. Bins are pulled out from their drawers. Once everything is on the floor, darling daughter will hunker down in a bin and will chew on a toy or two before getting bored and toddling off to the next adventure. And by the time I know it, every block, Little People, ball, stuffed animal and gizmo is underneath my feet. Since getting the Trofast, the usual toy mess seems to be getting messier these days. But to be fair to the Trofast, it isn't exactly its fault. It is just doing its job, despite the fact that darling daughter has figured out how to get the bins onto the floor.

So lately I've been cleaning up toys at least five times a day. I guess I should stop complaining and just accept the fact that I'll be cleaning up toys off the floor for awhile. I'm just waiting for the day that darling daughter helps out, but that day may be long in coming.