The countdown is on.
As I write this there are only 32 minutes before dear husband comes strolling through the front door. I'm already planning my escape, oops, I mean my break.
Five o'clock is always my favourite time of day. It is always nice to see another adult, but it is always lovely that the adult who walks through the front door is darling daughter's secondary primary caregiver. After the day I had, I think I deserve a break.
Not only was today exhausting, it also put in perspective for me how busy darling daughter has become. We went to a playdate this afternoon, hosted by one of the moms in the book club I belong to. This was the first time where darling daughter was the most mobile baby of the bunch. While little A sat quietly, playing by himself and little E hung out in the bouncy chair, darling daughter was doing her infamous belly crawl, climbing on little E and poking little A in the back with her feet. I barely got a mouthful of food in my mouth before I had to rescue one of the kids from darling daughter's clutches. Looking at little A, sitting quietly on the floor, I grumbled to myself why couldn't darling daughter be more like little A? Why can't she sit up for longer than 30 seconds before getting on her belly to crawl? Why does she have to be so pokey?
Then it dawn at me that the tables have turned and playdates are no longer fun for me as a mother. Oh, I do enjoy the companionship of other mothers, but gone are the days where I could plunk darling daughter on the floor like a bag of potatoes and eat lunch and enjoy a good conversation with other mothers at the same time. Now I am on guard to ensure that she doesn't do damage to the host's house, bang her head on a table or poke some unsuspecting child in the eye. In other words, playdates have become work for me while they have become fun for my daughter. But isn't the whole premise of a playdate is for my child to play?
I know that darling daughter will become even busier in the weeks and months to come. I will be looking back at this time with fondness when she is walking. Because I'm sure it is much easier to corral a crawling child than it is one who is walking. But man I am exhausting. Oh, relief is here! Dear husband just walked through the front door. Thank God break time is here.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Anybody out there?
I'm not too sure how many people actually read my blog. I know I have sent the link to a few people, who do read it. If you are a fellow mommy who has stumbled on it because I have mentioned it on facebook, I hope you enjoy reading it. The opinions expressed are obviously my own. I try to be witty, insightful and sometimes serious with my posts, but most importantly, my posts are an honest reflection of my life. Even though it has almost been a year since darling daughter arrived, I'm new to this motherhood gig. I need to be honest with myself when I write because it is therapueutic. It can be lonely being at home all day with your child, regardless if you have a supportive spouse and fantastic friends. Since I'm being honest as I possibly can, I run the risk of offending people. My intent is not to offend, but to write about my experiences as a first-time mother.
Thanks for reading!
VM
Thanks for reading!
VM
The diaper genie . . . is it a scam?
I have a diaper genie. In fact, I have a diaper genie II. I bought it when darling daughter was about six months old. I finally broke down and bought one when our Safety First diaper pail was no longer useable. I had no problem when the plastic insert that kept the garbage bag closed broke a month after we bought it. I continued to use it. However, I did have a problem when the lid broke. What is the point with a diaper pail that lid no longer doesn't close? Back to Babies R' Us it went.
I must say the diaper genie works great. It holds darling daughter's dirty diapers. The problem I have is the plastic bag refill cartridge you need for it to properly work. It seems every time I turn around, I've got to change the refill cartridge. And those refills aren't cheap. They are about $8 each. So potentially I could be spending $32 a month to dispose of disposable diapers. (Ha, ha, the irony). I guess this is what I get for choosing disposal diapers over cloth diapers. (The debate over cloth diapers still rages in my household. However, that is separate blog entry for another day).
So not only did I pay Playtex $35 for the diaper genie, I've got to pay $8 a week, give or take, to dispose of my dirty diapers. That works out to be a whopping $416 a year. Ouch. I think I'm going to be sick. There must be better way. (I know the better way is cloth diapers, but like I said, the subject is still being debated in my household). I see a challenge. I'll have to give it some thought and see if I can come up with a solution.
I must say the diaper genie works great. It holds darling daughter's dirty diapers. The problem I have is the plastic bag refill cartridge you need for it to properly work. It seems every time I turn around, I've got to change the refill cartridge. And those refills aren't cheap. They are about $8 each. So potentially I could be spending $32 a month to dispose of disposable diapers. (Ha, ha, the irony). I guess this is what I get for choosing disposal diapers over cloth diapers. (The debate over cloth diapers still rages in my household. However, that is separate blog entry for another day).
So not only did I pay Playtex $35 for the diaper genie, I've got to pay $8 a week, give or take, to dispose of my dirty diapers. That works out to be a whopping $416 a year. Ouch. I think I'm going to be sick. There must be better way. (I know the better way is cloth diapers, but like I said, the subject is still being debated in my household). I see a challenge. I'll have to give it some thought and see if I can come up with a solution.
Friday, April 24, 2009
I make baby food, part three
Okay, so I have yet to post my results of my baby food experiment. What can I say, other than it is a work in progress.
For the last five days I have been making baby food, one food at a time. Monday it was bananas and pears. Tuesday it was apples. Wednesday it was sweet potatoes, followed by squash on Thursday. Friday ended with an exciting pureeing session involving carrots.
I'm exhausted. If I never puree another carrot in my life, I'll die a happy girl.
Oh, the books and websites make you believe that making baby food is easy-peasy. It is as simple of making your own mini-factory assembly line in your kitchen. What these authors fail to mention is that if you have to deal with a fussy, teething baby who won't let you out of her sight for more than one second before bursting into tears, the assembly line isn't all that efficient or productive. Let's just say that darling daughter spent a lot of time in her high chair as her mother peeled, chopped and pureed fruits and vegetables. Her contribution to the process was dropping many toys onto the floor. Oh, I should mention that production on the assembly line slowed down when darling daughter burst into high pitched wails when the blender was on puree mode. Apparently, loud noises aren't her friend.
I've learned many things this week. The following are my insights.
I hate pureeing squash. It is so messy. My kitchen looked like a bomb went off when I was done. I was covered in squash and so were the counters. There is a reason that spaghetti squash is called spaghetti squash as its flesh is very spaghetti-like. Therefore, it is hard to puree. Out came the hand mixer before half of the squash was transferred to the blender for a full puree session. This resulted in darling daughter going into full-wail mode.
Carrots are a lot of work. You'd think that carrots would be the easiest food to make for baby. After the chopping, steaming and pureeing, I thought I'd have at least 16 baby cubes of carrot puree for darling daughter. Surprisingly, this isn't the case. Last week I made carrots and I only got four baby cubes worth. Today session which involved peeling and chopping three pounds of carrots resulted into producing 10 baby cubes.
The dishwasher is my best friend. David Suzuki would frown, but I run my dishwasher at least once a day, especially when I'm making baby food. All the dirty dishes, including the toys that darling daughter throws on the floor during our food making session, are placed in the dishwasher.
Anyway, the blender is put away, the baby cubes are neatly stacked in the freezer and darling daughter is good for baby food puree for a couple of weeks. Now, I just have to go find my sanity.
For the last five days I have been making baby food, one food at a time. Monday it was bananas and pears. Tuesday it was apples. Wednesday it was sweet potatoes, followed by squash on Thursday. Friday ended with an exciting pureeing session involving carrots.
I'm exhausted. If I never puree another carrot in my life, I'll die a happy girl.
Oh, the books and websites make you believe that making baby food is easy-peasy. It is as simple of making your own mini-factory assembly line in your kitchen. What these authors fail to mention is that if you have to deal with a fussy, teething baby who won't let you out of her sight for more than one second before bursting into tears, the assembly line isn't all that efficient or productive. Let's just say that darling daughter spent a lot of time in her high chair as her mother peeled, chopped and pureed fruits and vegetables. Her contribution to the process was dropping many toys onto the floor. Oh, I should mention that production on the assembly line slowed down when darling daughter burst into high pitched wails when the blender was on puree mode. Apparently, loud noises aren't her friend.
I've learned many things this week. The following are my insights.
I hate pureeing squash. It is so messy. My kitchen looked like a bomb went off when I was done. I was covered in squash and so were the counters. There is a reason that spaghetti squash is called spaghetti squash as its flesh is very spaghetti-like. Therefore, it is hard to puree. Out came the hand mixer before half of the squash was transferred to the blender for a full puree session. This resulted in darling daughter going into full-wail mode.
Carrots are a lot of work. You'd think that carrots would be the easiest food to make for baby. After the chopping, steaming and pureeing, I thought I'd have at least 16 baby cubes of carrot puree for darling daughter. Surprisingly, this isn't the case. Last week I made carrots and I only got four baby cubes worth. Today session which involved peeling and chopping three pounds of carrots resulted into producing 10 baby cubes.
The dishwasher is my best friend. David Suzuki would frown, but I run my dishwasher at least once a day, especially when I'm making baby food. All the dirty dishes, including the toys that darling daughter throws on the floor during our food making session, are placed in the dishwasher.
Anyway, the blender is put away, the baby cubes are neatly stacked in the freezer and darling daughter is good for baby food puree for a couple of weeks. Now, I just have to go find my sanity.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Playdate hangover . . . a taboo subject?
I have keeping a low profile the last couple of days, trying to recover from a playdate hangover. I don't have a definite definition for a playdate hangover. I once tried Googling it, but the results that came back dealt with moms drinking too much alcohol at their child's playdate. I can definitely say this is NOT what I am suffering from.
I have been hesitant to even write about this subject, in fear I will be ridiculed. However, in the last month I've heard passing comments from other mothers that lead me to believe that they may have suffered from a playdate hangover.
A playdate hangover, in my books, is when you become overwhelmed by discussions related to babies, marriage or motherhood. You can also get overwhelmed by your own preceived inadequacies as a mother or wife. On the other side of the coin you can also get discouraged because you didn't connect with other women or feel less as a mother because you don't share the same parenting values as others.
Being a woman can be hard on the best of days. Being a mother can be rough, especially when you throw hormones and self doubt as a first-time parent into the mix.
I must say, I didn't coin the phrase "playdate hangover." My parenting guru, K, did. K, who has been an invaluable resource since darling daughter arrived, calmly explained to me one day that I was suffering from a playdate hangover. My social structure has changed and I'm trying to find my footing as a mother, she explained. What I was feeling was perfectly normal, she concluded.
Glad to hear it, but what is the remedy? I still haven't figured that out, yet. I have come to the conclusion that although I could shut myself off from others so I don't have to deal with these overwhelming and confusing emotions, I can't isolate myself from the outside world. That would simply bring on other problems. Plus, the friendship I have developed in the last nine months with other mothers are extremely important to me. Moderation could be the key. I was forced to cancel our attendance at several playdates this week due to the fact darling daughter is sick. It was a blessing in disguise. As strangely as it sounds, going to playdates can be emotionally draining when you are still suffering from the aftermath of a playdate hangover. Unfortunately, there is no "hair of the dog that bit you" solution when it comes to curing it.
This is not the first time I have suffered from a playdate hangover. The first full-blown hangover happened two months ago. I left the playdate feeling these strange feelings of inadequcies as a mother. To get settle these feelings, I bundled darling daughter into her stroller and we went on a long walk around our neighbourhood to clear my head. It wasn't until later when K explained what I was suffering from that I finally made sense of my feelings.
I spoke to a family visitor from Ottawa Public Health about this subject recently. While I didn't tell her about the concept of the playdate hangover, I did explain my feelings. Like K, she told me what I was feeling is normal and that it does happen. But why as mothers do we not talk about this? Are we afraid of pushing people away or upsetting our newly found social structure? Or am I the only one who feels like this? I don't think I'm the only one, but maybe I am one of the few that realize that the concept of a playdate hangovers actually exists and the feelings that come with it are normal.
I have been hesitant to even write about this subject, in fear I will be ridiculed. However, in the last month I've heard passing comments from other mothers that lead me to believe that they may have suffered from a playdate hangover.
A playdate hangover, in my books, is when you become overwhelmed by discussions related to babies, marriage or motherhood. You can also get overwhelmed by your own preceived inadequacies as a mother or wife. On the other side of the coin you can also get discouraged because you didn't connect with other women or feel less as a mother because you don't share the same parenting values as others.
Being a woman can be hard on the best of days. Being a mother can be rough, especially when you throw hormones and self doubt as a first-time parent into the mix.
I must say, I didn't coin the phrase "playdate hangover." My parenting guru, K, did. K, who has been an invaluable resource since darling daughter arrived, calmly explained to me one day that I was suffering from a playdate hangover. My social structure has changed and I'm trying to find my footing as a mother, she explained. What I was feeling was perfectly normal, she concluded.
Glad to hear it, but what is the remedy? I still haven't figured that out, yet. I have come to the conclusion that although I could shut myself off from others so I don't have to deal with these overwhelming and confusing emotions, I can't isolate myself from the outside world. That would simply bring on other problems. Plus, the friendship I have developed in the last nine months with other mothers are extremely important to me. Moderation could be the key. I was forced to cancel our attendance at several playdates this week due to the fact darling daughter is sick. It was a blessing in disguise. As strangely as it sounds, going to playdates can be emotionally draining when you are still suffering from the aftermath of a playdate hangover. Unfortunately, there is no "hair of the dog that bit you" solution when it comes to curing it.
This is not the first time I have suffered from a playdate hangover. The first full-blown hangover happened two months ago. I left the playdate feeling these strange feelings of inadequcies as a mother. To get settle these feelings, I bundled darling daughter into her stroller and we went on a long walk around our neighbourhood to clear my head. It wasn't until later when K explained what I was suffering from that I finally made sense of my feelings.
I spoke to a family visitor from Ottawa Public Health about this subject recently. While I didn't tell her about the concept of the playdate hangover, I did explain my feelings. Like K, she told me what I was feeling is normal and that it does happen. But why as mothers do we not talk about this? Are we afraid of pushing people away or upsetting our newly found social structure? Or am I the only one who feels like this? I don't think I'm the only one, but maybe I am one of the few that realize that the concept of a playdate hangovers actually exists and the feelings that come with it are normal.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Let the hair pulling begin!
I would love to start this post off by saying, "It has been one of those days . . . " but this, whatever you call it, has been going on for almost a week. And I'm not too sure how to describe what "this" is. I guess it is a combination of frustration, sickness and tiredness wrapped all in one big hunk of crud. Last week I got violently ill that I passed out in the bathroom and almost took a header into the bathtub. (Luckily, dear husband grabbed a hold of me before I took a nasty tumble.
Darling daughter is teething. It seems to be like she has been teething forever. Sometimes she whines so much that she sounds like a tea kettle that is about to boil over. I pick her up, she cries. I put her down, she cries. I look at her she cries. (I'm sure you get the picture now.) There is not much I can do for her. As a result, she isn't napping. The longest nap she has had all day is 30 minutes. Since she isn't napping, she is overtired. Basically I have a teething, crabby and overtired baby on my hands.
I'd love to go out and work off some of this frustration but the protesters protesting on Parliament Hill will likely delay dear husband estimated arrival time home, so my chances of making a 5:30 p.m. Body Step class are practically nil.
I'm in the middle of applying for passports for myself and darling daughter. The vague information on the website doesn't answer all my questions. Oh, I tried calling Passport Canada, but the agent read the the vague information back to me over the phone when I tried asking my questions. Let the head banging begin.
Well, tomorrow is always another day, but I'm sure it will bring more of the same. Excuse me while I go pull my hair.
Darling daughter is teething. It seems to be like she has been teething forever. Sometimes she whines so much that she sounds like a tea kettle that is about to boil over. I pick her up, she cries. I put her down, she cries. I look at her she cries. (I'm sure you get the picture now.) There is not much I can do for her. As a result, she isn't napping. The longest nap she has had all day is 30 minutes. Since she isn't napping, she is overtired. Basically I have a teething, crabby and overtired baby on my hands.
I'd love to go out and work off some of this frustration but the protesters protesting on Parliament Hill will likely delay dear husband estimated arrival time home, so my chances of making a 5:30 p.m. Body Step class are practically nil.
I'm in the middle of applying for passports for myself and darling daughter. The vague information on the website doesn't answer all my questions. Oh, I tried calling Passport Canada, but the agent read the the vague information back to me over the phone when I tried asking my questions. Let the head banging begin.
Well, tomorrow is always another day, but I'm sure it will bring more of the same. Excuse me while I go pull my hair.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Things I thought I'd never do as a parent
Darling daughter has been sick for the last day. It started when she vomited in her car seat on our way to a friend's house in the morning. It included throwing up all over her jumperoo in the afternoon. And it ended when she upchucked the sweet potatoes that dear husband fed her for dinner. I knew that vomiting would be part of the job discription when becoming a parent, but I never knew that I would be catching darling daughter's vomit with my hands.
So that experience leads to an interesting question: what else have I've done in the last eight months as a parent that I never thought I'd ever do?
Number one: counting poos and pees. Yep. Those first days after darling daughter was born, dear husband and I would deligently count the number of poos and pees she had as well as their consistency. We'd proudly take these lists to doctor's appointments and health clinics, just in case someone needed to know how many bowel movements she had between lunchtime and dinner.
Number two: analyzing the consistency of darling daughter's bowel movements. I know it is disgusting and perhaps too much information, but they can say a lot of the health of your baby. Is she constipated? Does she diarrha? Does it look normal? Yep, there have been plenty of times that I have stared at her dirty diaper, hoping it would give me an answer.
Number three: purchasing foam squares. I swore up and down before I ever got pregnant that I would never buy foam squares because, personally, I think they are ugly. However, when I started hosting playdates, I soon came to the realization that my hardwood floors are not really conducive to baby playdates. So I bought eight squares, which eventually expanded to 12. I'm now contemplating getting another four. If you are interested, you can buy them at Canadian Tire, Wal-Mart and even the Real Canadian Superstore.
Number four: owning toys that make noise. Maybe the best $10 (or the worst, depending on what mood I am in) I ever spent at a consignment store was on a discovery nursery farm. Darling daughter loves to bang the colourful keys and poke at the plastic farm animals. This is one of the many toys she has that makes noise. She has a puppy that sings and plays music, the jumperoo, a monkey that balances on a ball and a cruise and crawl jungle. Yep, and they are all powered by batteries. Don't even get me started on my theory that the toy companies are in collusion with the battery companies.
Number five: that starting solids would be so stressful. Who knew that pureeing vegetables and fruit that would be so complicated? What food should I start her on? Is it nutritious enough? Is she getting enough? Is she eating too much? Is it organic? Gosh, it is enough to make you go batty.
Number six: that sex with dear husband would become a low priority. Sad, but true. Even months after darling daughter's birth, sleep seems so much attractive.
Number seven: that I'd drag my daughter's exersaucer in front of the television so she can watch Baby Einstein. During some very stressful, but rare days, Baby Einstein has been my saviour. I know I sound like a horrible parent, but some days you gotta do what you gotta do to survive, and that includes giving in and by popping in the Baby Einstein DVD and watch the DVD work its magic. And work it does. Who knew that bright colourful toys and classical music would be a perfect match?
Number eight: that I could love someone so much that my heart hurts. She is my heart and my soul. My crowning achievement.
So that experience leads to an interesting question: what else have I've done in the last eight months as a parent that I never thought I'd ever do?
Number one: counting poos and pees. Yep. Those first days after darling daughter was born, dear husband and I would deligently count the number of poos and pees she had as well as their consistency. We'd proudly take these lists to doctor's appointments and health clinics, just in case someone needed to know how many bowel movements she had between lunchtime and dinner.
Number two: analyzing the consistency of darling daughter's bowel movements. I know it is disgusting and perhaps too much information, but they can say a lot of the health of your baby. Is she constipated? Does she diarrha? Does it look normal? Yep, there have been plenty of times that I have stared at her dirty diaper, hoping it would give me an answer.
Number three: purchasing foam squares. I swore up and down before I ever got pregnant that I would never buy foam squares because, personally, I think they are ugly. However, when I started hosting playdates, I soon came to the realization that my hardwood floors are not really conducive to baby playdates. So I bought eight squares, which eventually expanded to 12. I'm now contemplating getting another four. If you are interested, you can buy them at Canadian Tire, Wal-Mart and even the Real Canadian Superstore.
Number four: owning toys that make noise. Maybe the best $10 (or the worst, depending on what mood I am in) I ever spent at a consignment store was on a discovery nursery farm. Darling daughter loves to bang the colourful keys and poke at the plastic farm animals. This is one of the many toys she has that makes noise. She has a puppy that sings and plays music, the jumperoo, a monkey that balances on a ball and a cruise and crawl jungle. Yep, and they are all powered by batteries. Don't even get me started on my theory that the toy companies are in collusion with the battery companies.
Number five: that starting solids would be so stressful. Who knew that pureeing vegetables and fruit that would be so complicated? What food should I start her on? Is it nutritious enough? Is she getting enough? Is she eating too much? Is it organic? Gosh, it is enough to make you go batty.
Number six: that sex with dear husband would become a low priority. Sad, but true. Even months after darling daughter's birth, sleep seems so much attractive.
Number seven: that I'd drag my daughter's exersaucer in front of the television so she can watch Baby Einstein. During some very stressful, but rare days, Baby Einstein has been my saviour. I know I sound like a horrible parent, but some days you gotta do what you gotta do to survive, and that includes giving in and by popping in the Baby Einstein DVD and watch the DVD work its magic. And work it does. Who knew that bright colourful toys and classical music would be a perfect match?
Number eight: that I could love someone so much that my heart hurts. She is my heart and my soul. My crowning achievement.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Sorry Madonna, time does not go by so slowly
Tomorrow is Friday. Many in the workforce celebrate the arrival of Friday. For me, it is just another day of the week.
I am slowly learning that motherhood doesn't include weekends, statutory holidays or vacation time when you have a baby. Although weekends do consist of family time for dear husband, darling daughter and myself, Saturday and Sunday just seem like any other day of the week, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. However, the weeks are flying by. Someone recently told me that when you have a child the days go by so slowly, but the months go by so quickly. I am learning that this statement is very true.
Darling daughter recently turned eight months. One day we brought her home from the hospital, and the next day she is crawling.
The concept of time hit home yesterday when I was talking to my accountant over the phone. We were chatting about children and how fast they grow up. For some reason I thought her kids were eight or 10 years old. Nope. They are 16 and 13 and the eldest has her driver's licence.
I enjoy every day I have with darling daughter. These days are a gift. But it seems like I can't fully enjoy my gift because she is growing up so quickly. One of these days she is going to pull herself up and then start to walk. It will be bittersweet seeing my darling daughter take her first steps. It will be bittersweet seeing my daughter go off to kindergarten. It will be bittersweet to watch darling daughter graduate high school and then head off to university. It will be bittersweet to see her get married and have children. Although it seems like those milestones are an eternity away, I now realize they aren't. These milestones will come and go in a blink of an eye. All I can do, as a parent, is enjoy the ride.
I am slowly learning that motherhood doesn't include weekends, statutory holidays or vacation time when you have a baby. Although weekends do consist of family time for dear husband, darling daughter and myself, Saturday and Sunday just seem like any other day of the week, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. However, the weeks are flying by. Someone recently told me that when you have a child the days go by so slowly, but the months go by so quickly. I am learning that this statement is very true.
Darling daughter recently turned eight months. One day we brought her home from the hospital, and the next day she is crawling.
The concept of time hit home yesterday when I was talking to my accountant over the phone. We were chatting about children and how fast they grow up. For some reason I thought her kids were eight or 10 years old. Nope. They are 16 and 13 and the eldest has her driver's licence.
I enjoy every day I have with darling daughter. These days are a gift. But it seems like I can't fully enjoy my gift because she is growing up so quickly. One of these days she is going to pull herself up and then start to walk. It will be bittersweet seeing my darling daughter take her first steps. It will be bittersweet seeing my daughter go off to kindergarten. It will be bittersweet to watch darling daughter graduate high school and then head off to university. It will be bittersweet to see her get married and have children. Although it seems like those milestones are an eternity away, I now realize they aren't. These milestones will come and go in a blink of an eye. All I can do, as a parent, is enjoy the ride.
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