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.

If I ate this massive bag of chocolate chips to stop the temptation, it would take a heck of a lot of step classes to work off the damage

I find that one of the draw backs of being a stay at home mom is having easy access to the refrigerator. Before having darling daughter, I worked in an office located in an industrial park. The nearest restaurant was Tim Hortons. And to be brutally honest I'm not a big fan of Tim Hortons. (What a very unCanadian statement!) I find their service to be slow. I'm not a fan of coffee and once they switched from Coca Cola to Pepsi products, that was it. No more Tim Hortons for me. Plus, I was too lazy to walk there, so I rarely went. Basically I ate whatever food I had brought from home. Ocassionally, I'd go out to lunch with my co-workers, but those lunches were a special treat.

But now, I find myself around an ample supply of food. When I was breastfeeding, I'd make allowances for myself as I told myself that I "needed" extra calories to make milk for darling daughter. I'm no longer breastfeeding, so that excuse doesn't hold water. For the most part, I eat fairly healthy, but there is always room for improvement, including not opening the freezer door to help myself to a tiny handful of chocolate chips.

Me and semi-sweet chocolate chips have a long history. They are a great when you need a chocolate pick-me-up and you have no chocolate in the house. They give my banana muffins a sweet little something. And they just the perfect topping on my toasted English muffins coated with peanut butter.

I bought the two kilogram bag about two months ago when I was shopping in Costco. I thought it was a steal of a deal for $10. At the time, I was making a lot of banana chocolate chip muffins and I thought I'd save some money by buying chocolate chips in bulk. To be fair to myself, I mainly use the bag for when I'm baking. However, there have been days where I've grabbed a handful of chocolate chips to satisfy a chocolate urge. A couple of days ago, I asked dear husband to put the bag in the downstairs freezer. Out of sight, out of mind, I reasoned. He did. But somehow the bag managed to find its way back in my refrigerator's freezer.

I'd eat the entire bag so in order to stop the temptation. However, that is a lot of chocolate chips to consume and it would take a lot of Body Step classes to work off the damage. In a couple of minutes I'll hide the bag in the freezer downstairs. Thankfully I have no Halloween candy in the house. Then I'd really be in trouble.

It is one of those days

Although I won't get into any details, I will say the last couple of days have been pretty rough. In an attempt to cheer myself up, I decided this morning that darling daughter and I needed to get out of the house and partake in some retail therapy. And as a tightwad, I consider retail therapy going to Wal-Mart. That way, I know I won't break the bank too much.

Until we reached the check out line, our shopping trip had gone fairly smoothly. I found some yarn, hair conditioner and a Fred Penner CD as well as a cute Halloween shirt for darling daughter. As she enters the toddler years, darling daughter wants to touch everything. Every time we are in Wal-Mart or the grocery store, she likes touching the grimy check out counter, which gives me the hebbie-jeebies because who knows how many germy little hands have touched the same grimy check out counter.

Thinking I was being smart, I moved her away from the grimy check out counter. But at the time I didn't realize I had moved her beside the candy display. As I was paying for our purchases, darling daughter opened up a plastic container filled with candy beads and spilled half of the container's contents onto the floor. I was embarrassed. If it had been any other day, I would have picked up the beads and insisted I pay for the candy. Instead I tried to hide the candy beads by sweeping them to the edge of the check out counter with the side of my shoe so they wouldn't get caught underneath the stroller wheels. Before I could make a quick escape, the cashier spotted the beads. I did make a half hearted attempt to pay for the candy beads, but my offer was turned down, although reluctantly. In hindsight, I really should have cleaned up the mess, but I didn't. And for that, I'm sorry.

The next stop was Loblaws to stock up on fruit and to find something to make for dinner. Lately, I've tried to have dinner ready for 5 p.m. I must say my cooking skills are a work in progress, but I'm getting better at it. Parking beside a cart carousel area, I quickly grabbed a cart. While I was busy tending to darling daughter, I spotted a brown sedan two spaces away from us. There was a little old lady sitting in the passenger seat. I didn't think anything much of this until I went to put darling daughter into the cart. But it was gone. It had rolled into the side of the brown sedan. I'm not too sure if the cart bumped the car hard, but luckily the lady didn't seem all that concerned when I retrieved my cart. I, however, did say sorry.

After getting home, the first order of business was to get to lunch on the go and to put away groceries. I let darling daughter into her playroom. As a new parent, I have quickly learned that if she becomes too quiet then she is definitely up to some kind of mischief. When I poked my head into the playroom, I saw darling daughter dumping clothes onto the floor. I had totally forgot that I had a clothes basket filled with folded clothes. The clothes are now folded haphazardly, waiting for me to put them away.

So it is basically one of those days when nothing seems to be going right. It is also one of those days where I am eating semi-sweet chocolate chips out of the bag (that I hid in the freezer so they wouldn't tempt me) because I need a chocolate fix. It is also one of those days where I fell off the Diet Coke-free wagon. Yep, it is just one of those days. But on the bright side, thankfully tomorrow is Friday.

Encroaching on my territory

Dear husband is sick. He decided to stay home today and keep his germs to himself. God bless him. I hope he is well enough to go to work tomorrow because he is encroaching on my territory.

For whatever reason when dear husband is sick from work, it feels really weird when he is home. I've got no problem when he is home during the weekend. In fact, I love the weekends, especially Sundays as he dedicates this day to watching football. I take that time to do errands, go to the gym or read a book. But when he was home during a weekday, it just feels plain weird. But to be fair, he is sick and was in no shape to go to work today.

And to make things worse, darling daughter refused to nap today. REFUSED. There was tears, tears and more tears. After several separate attempts by dear husband and I, we had to abort all nap plans. Although it was manageable between the two of us, there was no countdown to 5 p.m. to look forward to because dear husband was already home. So basically we had to watch our poor congested, red eye rimmed baby, who desperately needed a nap, walk around the living room all day, playing with her toys. At least she was in a relatively good mood. But having darling daughter skip her nap time made for a long day.

So hopefully dear husband's germs disappear tomorrow, allowing him to go back to work tomorrow. I've come to the conclusion between the hours of 8 a.m. at 5 p.m., Monday to Friday, the house is my territory. And maybe it is just me being weird, but I don't like anyone encroaching on my territory during these time periods. Not even my husband, despite the fact I love him to death. I'm not too sure what we'd do if we ever won the lottery. I guess one of us would be working for fun.

Giving thanks

Right now I'm feeling a bit down so I thought I'd count my Thanksgiving blessings not only to cheer me up, but to remind me how rich and blessed I am to have the life I have.

So in no particular order (and although some are trivial), here I go:

* Darling daughter. I'm so blessed to have her. She is my walking, talking miracle.
* Dear husband. I couldn't have asked for a better husband and man to walk hand in hand in with in this topsy turvy world.
* Good and dear friends. You know who you are and I thank you so much for your friendship.
* A roof over my head.
* Food in my tummy.
* The freedom to do what I want, when I want.
* My doctor's office. It is so reassuring to call and get an appointment that day and not be told to go to the emergency room.
* My library card. I've saved tonnes of money over the last couple of months by borrowing books from the Ottawa Public Library.
* My gym membership card. It is always good to exercise and get out of the house at the same time.
* My health. I've really got nothing to complain about.
* Laundry facilities. It would really be hard not to have a washer and dryer in the house.
* Our car. It gives me freedom.
* My next door neighbour who picks up our mail when we leave to visit family.
* My family.
* Clean water.
* A soft bed to sleep in.
* Dear husband's job.
* The Internet. I'd be lost without it.

I ate you so you wouldn't tempt me

Oh peanut butter, you are too much of a temptation to have in the house.

I love peanut butter. I especially love peanut butter on buttered English muffins. If I could eat peanut butter and English muffins all day, I'd be a happy girl. Yum. And when I'm in the mood to jazz it up a bit, I sprinkle chocolate chips on top. Yum, yum!

My love for peanut butter started when I was pregnant with darling daughter. When you have gestational diabetes and the thought of eating meat makes you almost physically sick, you have to look for protein alternatives. And peanut butter was the main alternative. I don't know how many jars I went through during the third trimester. Maybe three or four. At the time I thought my peanut butter addiction was a pregnancy thing, that my addiction to peanut butter would wane after the baby came. But that wasn't the case. I kept on eating peanut butter. But after awhile I came to the conclusion if that I wanted to fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans I'd have to cutback on my peanut butter intake as it wasn't really helping the cause.

I've been pretty good over the last couple of months. But sometimes I get the urge and I go out and buy peanut butter. I bought this jar after spotting it on a shelf at a convenience store.

Tonight I was having another craving for buttered English muffins and peanut butter. I couldn't deny my grumbling stomach anymore, so I took a peek inside of the jar. There wasn't much of the yummy goodness left inside the jar. After thinking about it for a brief moment, I reasoned if I ate the rest of the peanut butter there would be any left to tempt me anymore. Out of sight, out of mind, I concluded.

Minus the chocolate chips, I indulged. It was good. And now I don't have any peanut butter left. Let's hope the chocolate chip cookies I made last week that are stashed away in the deep freezer don't call my name any time soon. I don't need a new addiction.

No one wants to play in cigarette butts

Excuse me for the following rant, but I've got to get this off my chest.

I live in a condo/townhouse development. One thing I have had to learn to tolerate since moving here more than three years ago is cigarette smoke. Most people seem to smoke outside of their homes rather than inside. I totally understand as people don't want to expose their children, loved ones, pets, furniture and belongings to second hand smoke.

I can usually smell it when I have the windows open. As a result, I'll shut my windows as I don't want my child, dear husband, furniture and belongings exposed to second hand smoke.

This afternoon when I was preparing dinner (that should be a post in itself as I hate to cook) I could smell cigarette smoke. At first, I thought it was my next door neighbour, but when I looked out into the parking lot, I didn't see her car, so it wasn't her. Minutes later, I could still smell smoke. When I looked beyond the parking lot and into the playground I spotted the culprits: two parents. They were swinging on the swings, enjoying their cigarettes.

This really bothers me. In Ontario, it is illegal to smoke inside a vehicle with children. It should be a no brainer not to smoke with such small passengers in a car, but it seems we live in a day and age when you have to legislate common sense. Some municipalities already have bylaws prohibiting parents from lighting up at playgrounds and sports fields. I'm not too sure if Ottawa has such a bylaw, but it wouldn't matter anyway as the playground in question is on private property.

The smell didn't bother me as I shut my windows. But what did bother me is the fact that the neighbourhood children will come across ashes and cigarette butts while playing, which is a disgusting image when you think about it. I don't think any parent wants to see their children playing in cigarette butts, even those who are smokers. Sometimes I wish people would use their common sense and have some respect for others. If you got to smoke, don't smoke at a playground. Thanks.

Fun in Montreal

Sometimes it is good to wear something else other than Lululemon and go outside of your comfort zone.

This past weekend I went to Montreal with friends. It is important to note that we all went sans baby. All our babies were safe and sound with our respective dear husbands. And it was fun. We took the train, shopped on Saint Catherine Street, dressed up, ate a delicious meal, had a couple of drinks and went to a 80s bar. And most importantly, we had tonnes of fun.

It was the first time I had been away from darling daughter for more than eight hours. And I did much better than expected. In fact, I felt a bit guilty when I came home last night as I basically dropped off my luggage, spent some time with darling daughter and then headed to book club. (I love book club. I don't like to miss a meeting.) However, we are making up for lost time today.

So yes, it was a fun weekend with the girls. I still have Pump Up the Volume stuck in my head. (One of the many songs we danced to at Club Electric Avenue. I think I even spotted a Andrew McCarthy look-a-like dancing to Madonna's Vogue. . . ) It was good to get away. I'm still tired, but it is all worth it as who knows the next time we will be able to do that again.

Boo for 1:30 a.m. wake up calls

Right now I'm trying to wipe the bleariness from my eyes because I am so tired. Last night I had an encounter with the Twilight Zone so to speak as darling daughter decided at 1:30 a.m. that sleeping is for chumps and she wasn't having any of it. When her shrill cries woke me up from a deep sleep, I thought it was morning. It is hard to tell these days between morning and the middle of the night as both look the same: dark. I sighed in frustration when 1:30 blinked back at me on the digital TV box. Good God, I thought to myself, why now? Too early.

I thought a quick diaper change would be the cure all, but I was wrong. For three hours she was up. I haven't had an experience like that since she was about seven weeks old. And it was painful. How quickly the mind forgets was a sleepless night is like.

We tried everything. Dear husband tried to rock her asleep. We turned her Orbusforme sound machine on. We patted her back. We put her in a sleeper in case she was chilly. We changed her diaper and we even tried letting her sleep with us. About 4:30 a.m. she gave into blessed sleep. It only lasted for about two hours though. As soon as dear husband shut the front door on his way to work, she was up. Argh! Although she slept for another hour, it was a restless sleep.

So obviously from last night's escapades, I'm not in the greatest of moods. I've got a headache. I'm tired as well as a tad bit grumpy. The hour long nap darling daughter had this morning wasn't long enough as she is now whining I do believe for a nap.

I'm not too sure what caused last night's brief sleep strike. Maybe she is teething. (In this household we seem to blame teething for episodes like this). Maybe she was chilly. All I know is that I'd like this not to happen again as 1:30 a.m. is way too early for a wake up call.

I will excuse myself now as I'm going to put my cranky daughter down for a nap and take heed of that age old advice of sleeping when the baby sleeps.

Fast food censorship?

Yesterday I finally got around to washing darling daughter's toy food in anticipation of getting her downstairs play room ready. Months ago, I had purchased a Little Tykes toy kitchen off Kijiji. It was a great deal and it even came with toy food. While I was washing the food, I noticed the set came a hot dog, French fries, ice cream cones, potato chips and donuts, all of which is considered junk food.

As I was sorting the food items, I started wondering if I should toss them in with the fruit and vegetables that I had just washed. Instead I set them aside, unsure what to do with them. In this day and age of child obesity, should kids play with toy hot dogs and ice cream? Or is the idea of censoring these toys from the toy box a bit over the top?

I turned to Google for answers to see what others were saying about the subject. Unfortunately, after five minutes of searching, I didn't find much useful information. I did find one website that focuses on promoting healthy food choices for children that stated that parents should take out items that they don't approve of, such as cola bottles and junk food with brand names.

I realize there has been an ongoing debate surrounding children and toy guns. Toy guns were once considered a typical childhood toys. Remember Ralphie asking for an official Red Ryder carbine action BB gun in the 1983 classic movie, A Christmas Story? And subsequently being told by his mother, teacher and Santa Claus that "You'll shoot your eye out." As a kid, my own brother had his own BB gun. So did some of his friends. But times change and some parents are reluctant to let their children play with these toys in the wake of increase violence and school shootings.

So is toy junk food the new toy gun? Or am I making a mole hill out of a mountain? I honestly don't know. Right now I've stuck the "controversial" items in a plastic Ziplock bag, while I think more about the subject. I already know the French fries will eventually hit the garbage can as darling daughter could easily shove one up her nose or poke some unsuspecting play mate in the eye since they are so narrow and pointy.

If anyone has any thoughts on the subject, feel free to leave a comment. I'd really like to hear what other parents think about the subject.