Gotta run . . . . update number 2

Last night I ran outside. And I'll be whining for a week because I ran outside. I find running outside extremely hard as it is up to my feet to set the pace and there is no clock that I can use to track my running progress. On the treadmill, you select the incline and speed levels and run to your heart's content. The treadmill sets the pace. And there are no sidewalk cracks, barking dogs and traffic to contend with like there is when running outside. But I need to suck it up because the last time I looked the two 5k races I signed up for aren't being held inside on treadmills.

The first time I ran outside was a gongshow. About 30 seconds into my run I had to stop. I was already out of breath. I was so discouraged. I walked for a bit and then ran again. I tried to remain true to running of four minutes and walking one, but it was hard to determine where I was as I had no watch. So I went by the songs on my ipod that are about four minutes in length. I had to walk a couple of times during my blocks, but during the sixth block I ran four minutes straight. Even though at the time I thought I may need to throw up in the bushes, it was a proud moment because running four minutes straight outside is not that easy.

But running outside has its advantages. There is no need to drive to the gym and fight for a treadmill as I can step outside my front door and run. I don't feel as overheated as I do when running inside. As per usual, the first part of yesterday's run was a gongshow. I made it to about a minute before I had to stop and walk. I was gasping for breath. I'm still wondering why this is so darn hard, but it is a work in progress. For the next 10 minutes I ran and walked, ran and walked. I wasn't even finishing blocks. I eventually got to the point where I ran straight through two songs, walked for two minutes, before running again, this time through two and a half songs, which equals to be about 10 to 11 minutes. Not bad, considering the rocky start I had.

On Sunday, I told my running coach and friend that I ran 20 minutes straight last week. Great, she said. We'll run straight when we run outside on Friday. Awesome, I thought to myselfI think I just shot myself in the foot.

As they say, no pain, no gain. Although I can predict I'll be taking some running breaks, here's hoping I can run 5k.

After five months of dragging my feet, it is finally done!

I am finally done darling daughter's hoodie. It is blocked, dried and ready to go.

The making of this hoodie has been a production in itself. I first bought the yarn in mid-October. I dragged my feet in getting the yarn out of my stash (to be fair to myself, I was busy with other knitting projects), promised myself that after Christmas I'd get on it and it was about the first of March when I started it. It took about two weeks of constant knitting to get it done. However, I dragged my feet again for another two weeks when it came to grafting the hood together. I dislike kitchener stitch. I dislike it a lot. But one day last week after darling daughter had gone to bed, I sat down at the table with a table lamp beside me to give me some extra light and I went to work. Knowing I needed complete silence, I encouraged dear husband to go to the gym. Although it took several attempts involving me ripping out stitches and repeating knit purl - purl knit in my head over and over again, I finally got it done. But it took an hour and a half for me to complete this task. I finished the trim on Saturday and weaved in the ends.

So I can finally say that it is done. Not too sure how long darling daughter will be in it before she grows out of it. But hopefully it will last her for the spring and into the fall.

I heart Bluntcard (and I can't help myself)

On Friday, I was attempting to turn left from Pinecrest Road onto Queensview Drive. It is relatively busy intersection as you may have to wait for a steady stream of traffic coming off the Queensway to dissipate. As I was waiting for a break in traffic, in my rear-view mirror, I spotted the motorist behind me freaking out. He was flailing his hands, urging me to go and clearly upset that I hadn't made my turn yet. And what did he have in his hands? A smart phone.

Spotting that smart phone made me mad. Using hand held phones while driving is now illegal in the Province of Ontario. For the last two months, Oprah has been urging people to take the no phone zone pledge in an attempt to get distracted drivers to concentrate on driving, not on texting or talking on their phones. While I can only assume that since he had the phone in his hand that some point during his drive he was either trying to text or make a phone call. Obviously he hadn't seen Wednesday’s episode of Oprah’s show where she repeated her initial no phone zone pledge show.

What a jerk! I thought. There is no way in hell I’d take such a risk and try and turn as oncoming traffic because some jerk, who is waving a smart phone in his hand, is impatient and can‘t wait his turn. Although darling daughter wasn't in the car with me, my momma bear instincts kicked into high gear. Can’t that jerk see I have a baby on board magnet on the back of my car? As if I’d risk the life of my child (if she was in the car) for some jerk. Jerk!

I’m not too sure why he was in such a hurry because after we both turned left, he suddenly pulled over to the side of the street. One would hope that the reason he was stopping was to use his smart phone. Or maybe he was embarrassed and wanted to give some distance between me and him. But I doubt that. Jerks like that don’t usually get embarrassed that easily.

Throughout this situation, I was thinking and shouting stronger words other than jerk. I was fuming when I pulled into the gym parking lot. Really, I thought, if I knew who that guy is and his email address, I’d send him a Bluntcard.

A Bluntcard? What is a Bluntcard?

I have to admit that I love Bluntcard. Bluntcard.com is a e-card website. Yes, some of the messages can cross the line of good taste. Yes, they can be crude. And yes, they can be rude, but some of them are funny. Sometimes they make me laugh that I almost want to cry. (Please note: I'm not a fan of the “mommy wants drunk time ones” as they are a little too much for my taste). However, some of them are witty, clever and truthful. For the last couple of months I've seen Bluntcards pop up on my Facebook news feed. Last weekend, I decided to check out the Bluntcard site and I laughed and laughed and laughed. I keep on telling myself that I shouldn't laugh because some of them are rude and crude, but I can’t help myself. Some of them are so hilarious that I still snicker when I think of them, which provokes strange looks from dear husband as he has no clue what I’m laughing at.

Unfortunately, Bluntcard doesn't have any idiot driver bluntcards that I can send out to every crazy driver I encounter. Too bad. While I’m still kind of self conscious for my love for Bluntcard, I do think that sending out a Bluntcard is applicable in this case. It makes the message crystal clear and it beats giving the one-finger salute to jerks in public.

(Image courtesy of Bluntcard.com)

The problem with flyers

. . . Is I want to buy every good deal I see advertised. For the first time this week in five months I received a flyer package. Two months ago, I blogged about the problems I’ve experienced in getting flyers delivered to my front door. After two initial phone calls, one to the flyer delivery company and another to the Ottawa Citizen, I thought the problem had been solved. But no flyers. The flyer conspiracy continued until this week. Although I’d been dragging my butt in trying to track down the reason why I wasn’t getting flyers, it looks like the problem has been fixed.

I forgot how tempting it is to look through flyers. There are a bunch of 40 to 50 per cent off coupons for Michaels that I want to use. Not too sure what I want to buy (likely yarn), but with a deal like that, I need to buy something. It would be foolish not to. Canadian Tire has large measuring cup-like batter bowls on sale. I’d like to pick one up as I miss my Pampered Chef batter bowl that I broke months ago. And cutting boards are on sale, too. I’m finding that with a toddler in the house that you can’t have too many cutting boards as it is seems like I am always cutting fruit and veggies for darling daughter. Toys R Us has a sale on playhouses. I’d really like to get one for darling daughter, but our backyard is only so big and we already have a picnic table and water table for her. Another problem associated with flyer delivery is now I actually have to meal plan. I fell off the meal planning wagon two months ago and I haven’t been able to get back on. With the flyers now being delivered to my door, the excuse of not being able to look at what is on sale no longer applies.

So here’s hoping this flyer trend sticks and is not a one-off. I forgot how much I like to browse through flyers.

Got chocolate?

I'm craving chocolate.

Unfortunately for me, there is no chocolate in the house other than an open bag of chocolate chips. There is not even a single bag of Easter candy to be had. It is taking every ounce of willpower I have not to eat the entire bag of chocolate chips. I have settled for eating a couple of old Girl Guide mint chocolate covered cookies that have been sitting in my freezer forever just to help curb the craving. It isn't working.

This morning darling daughter and I headed to the play area at Chapters. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to steer the stroller into Starbucks and order a chocolate oat bar. I heart Starbucks' chocolate oat bars. I even found a couple of recipes online. I have all the ingredients to make said chocolate treats. And it is taking every ounce of willpower I have not to whip out the hand mixer, bowls and measuring cups and get down to work.

So here I am, craving chocolate and unable to satisfy my craving. Can't leave the house and buy a small bag of Cadbury mini-eggs as darling daughter is sleeping. Maybe that is a good thing.

Last night, I had dear husband buy us a small bag of mini-eggs. With all the running I am doing, I'm trying to keep my chocolate cravings in check. I divided the bag evenly between us. Guess what? There aren't many eggs in those small bags. And the eggs I did eat obviously didn't help as I'm still craving chocolate.

I'm not too sure how I will be able to break this craving. Maybe I should go out and buy a bag of Easter candy and indulge or try to maintain my willpower. Until I come up with an answer, I'll likely be picking at that bag of chocolate chips for the remainder of the day.

Gotta run . . . literally

I'm going to let my beloved readers in on a secret . . . I have been running.

And I'll let you on another secret (and please don't tell my running coach because it doesn't jive well with the program she set out for me) . . . I ran for 20 minutes straight last night. That beats my personal record of 12 minutes that I set on Friday. After I managed to get my fatigued butt off the treadmill, I wanted to do a happy dance, but I was too tired to do so.

After every run I do, I write what I did on a sticky note and then post it on the front of one of my kitchen cupboards. Not only does this track my progress, it also gives me incentive to continue. And, not to toot my own horn, but the progress I have been making has been astounding.

To give you some background, I've been running for more than a month now. Throughout my life, running is something I avoided as I thought my not-so-great knees wouldn't be able to take such a beating. My thinking changed as I went through some life changing crap earlier this year. Needing to get deal with feelings, I emailed my friend and running guru, C, and asked her if she could teach me to run.

So I've been running. The first run was hard. I didn't think I could finish the four blocks of run four minutes, walk one. But I did. And I went back to the treadmill days later to run again. Believe it or not, it started to get easier. I eventually made a visit to my local Running Room and bought a pair of quality running shoes and my running started to improve. Plus, I was starting to look forward to running days. Incredible!

C started me on an interval running program that consisted of four minutes running, one minute walking. I started out doing four blocks of four and one. I worked myself up to five blocks and then six. On Friday, I had to switch treadmills after the fourth block because it was making an annoying sound. When I jumped onto the new treadmill I didn't realize that I had the incline at 0.2. It should be at two. When I realized that the incline was too low I was about three minutes into my block. Since I'm dedicated to my running, I decided to make up for my mistake, increased the incline to two and kept on running to make up time. I ran past the six minute mark, then the eight and then the 11. I stopped at 12. I felt amazing.

On Sunday, we changed the interval block running program to five and one. I have respected C's program and I have never questioned her. She knows her stuff. She's a runner. She's a physiotherapist. But last night, I don't know what happened, but once I reached the five minute mark, I wanted to keep going. It was almost like I couldn't stop. Five minutes slowly became 10 minutes. At that point, I still couldn't stop. When I reached the 15 minute mark, it was more of a mental game of whether or not I could reach the 20 minute mark. And I did. I squeaked out the last minute, had to take a five minute walking break before running another 10 minutes.

I'm very proud of myself. I didn't think I could ever run in my life, but I'm proving to myself that I can. I'm going to register for a 5k run in mid-April as well as the Ottawa Race Weekend's 5k at the end of May. While I've reached what I consider are some significant milestones in my short running career, I'm not getting too cocky as running on a treadmill is much, much different than running outside. (I ran outside for the first time last week and I whined for days to dear husband how hard it was). So I've got work to do before I do before my short term running goals and hopefully I will be able to achieve them. I'll keep you posted.

Going to the pool is a big deal

For the first time in months, darling daughter and I went to the pool today.

Going to the pool is a big deal for us. I basically have to talk myself into it and that process takes a couple of days. Maybe it is because I don't look forward to wrangling with a wet toddler in and out of a bathing suit or hearing her scream when I place her on the Rubbermaid change station. Or maybe it is the effort of gathering up towels, swimming suits and diapers, change, go swimming, change again and make it home before lunchtime.

As I said before, it has been awhile since we made the trek to the local pool. I think the last time we went was when she was first starting to walk. It has been such a long time that she has grown out of her swim suit as well as the Little Swimmers that I bought more than a year ago. Although it is Tuesday, I've been gearing up to go to the pool since Sunday. I bought her a new swim suit as well as new disposable swim pants. Since today is rainy and cold, I figured it was a good day to go to the pool.

Actually, the experience wasn't too bad. Some things haven't changed. She still screams when I put her on the change station and isn't too fond of the change room showers. But some things have. She no longer chews on the foam puzzle pieces in the baby pool. She actually plays with them by putting them in the plastic boats. She wasn't a big fan of the sprinklers in the baby pool, but I think she'll warm up to them if we go often enough.

We'll be going back. When? Who knows? But I guess I better starting gearing up for our next visit now.

Packing away the last remaining symbols of babyhood

Relatively big changes have happened recently. First off, darling daughter's play yard has been folded and put away for good. The play yard, which we first used as a bassinet when we brought her home from the hospital, has served us well. It has provided a place for darling daughter to play in. We've carted it halfway across the country on two different occasions so she'd have a place to sleep. And it was where she first learned how to sit up. But it was time to say goodbye to the play yard as she'd squawk every time we'd put her in it. The space the play yard once occupied is now home to a magnet board and farm magnets.

Last week, I decided to weigh darling daughter. I haven't done it in awhile. I was surprised to discover that she now weighs close to 30 pounds. My scale is not exact so we made a decision to switch her car seat to forward facing as the car seat only goes to 30 pounds when in the rear facing position. We've had her in a rear facing convertible car seat for a year now. I wanted to keep her rear facing as long as possible, hoping I could keep her rear facing to at least her second birthday. No dice. She had her first ride in the car forward facing yesterday.

I've been weeding out darling daughter's outgrown clothes. Sleepers, jeans, pants and shirts are in a pile, ready to be packed away. Onesies, which were a staple in her wardrobe, are no longer useful as she has outgrown the concept. Although I could potentially replace them with 24 months, it makes no sense as wiggles out of them, stretching the neckline.

Yesterday, we decided to go out to dinner. It has been more than six months since we've dined at a restaurant as a family. When the hostess seated us, she gave us a small colouring book and crayons for darling daughter. I was going to tell not to bother as darling daughter really has no interest in colouring, but I didn't get a chance. Good thing, though because she coloured up a storm and played with the colouring book until her kid's meal arrived. Kid's meal?!? Oh boy, we are already into kid's meals? Although she only ate half of it, she was good as gold during dinner, enjoying her new colouring book as well as the busy atmosphere of the restaurant. The only time she put up a fuss was when we were leaving as she was having so much fun.

I know Oh-My-God-I-can't-believe-my-baby-is-no-longer-a-baby! is a reoccurring theme in my blog, but really I can't believe my baby is no longer a baby. She is closing in on the age of two. She seems to be learning at least one new word a day. She is asserting her independence and will let you know what she wants and doesn't want. It is really quite amazing and mind boggling that the baby I brought home from the hospital not even 20 months ago, is standing on furniture, sticking postage stamps on herself and using a spoon to feed herself with. I know she won't be asking to borrow the car any time soon, but some days it feels like she will. They grow up so fast. Too fast. And packing away her last remaining symbols of babyhood just makes that concept a bit clearer.

Only a sale could lure me to Merivale Road

My mission: buying a sand and water table for half the price at Toys R Us.

The challenge: drive to Merivale Road to get it.

Argh!

Anyone who lives in the west end of Ottawa likely has experienced the pleasure of driving on Merivale Road. And when I write pleasure, I mean it sarcastically. Merivale Road, once known as Nepean's Golden Mile, is a road that stretches from Barrhaven in the south to Carling Avenue in the north. Driving the Barrhaven end of Merivale Road isn't too bad, and the same goes for the Carling Avenue end, but the stretch between West Hunt Club to Clyde Avenue is horrendous. It seems like it doesn't matter what time of the day it is, traffic is heavy. In rush hour, it may take five to 10 minutes before you reach the next intersection as traffic crawls at a snail's pace.

I spent a year and a half working in the Merivale Road area. Being caught in traffic is no fun, but it gives you time to ponder. During my time pondering as I waited in traffic, I concluded that for my own sanity I need to avoid this road like the plague. But only thing that can lure me to the Merivale Road area is a good sale, specifically a good sale at Toys R Us.

Big box stores are a fixture in the Merivale Road area. Toys R Us has a stand alone store here. While there is a Toys R Us store at a mall in the east end, I was in the Merivale Road vicinity this morning. I decided to suck it up and battle traffic to Toys R Us as it was too good of a sale to pass up.

I found that fighting traffic was fairly easy from Carling Avenue, but that soon changed when I approached Clyde Avenue. Feeling myself tense up, I gripped the steering wheel in anticipation of what was to come. As usual, motorists and pedestrians never cease to amaze. At one intersection, a motorist positioned in the left hand turning lane changed his mind at the last moment and decided to turn right. He cut across two lanes of traffic as well as cutting off drivers in the opposing lane who were turning left.

Soon after watching that feat of pure idiocy, I spotted a woman pushing a stroller on the roadway, towards opposing traffic. Luckily traffic was stopped and she quickly made a right turn, heading to the sidewalk. And when I made it to the Toys R Us intersection, I was cut off by a motorist who was oblivious to the fact I had the right-of-way.

Just a typical drive on Merivale Road.

With the sand and water table in my car, my mission was accomplished and I got out of the area relatively unscathed. But this latest experience reaffirms my vow that unless there is a really big sale, I won't be heading to Merivale Road any time soon.

Letting go means the odd scrape and fall

As I continue with my journey through parenthood, I'm learning that sometimes you have to let go, even when you don't want to.

Darling daughter is closing in on the age of two. She has been walking for months and as the nicer weather arrives, I'm realizing that I don't have to carry darling daughter everywhere. She can walk to the car from the house and vice versa. She can stand by the car while I quickly throw her diaper bag and my purse in the car. She can walk around outside and doesn't need to be ferried everywhere in her stroller. While I'm proud that darling daughter is exerting her independence, it is also bittersweet as she is no longer a baby.

Today we went to the Canadian Agricultural Museum. It is a working farm and research station that provides visitors the opportunity to taste the sights and sounds of farm life. Wearing her new pink rubber boots, I freed darling daughter from her stroller so she could test out her new footwear. She walked in one of the barns and then outside near one of the cattle displays. She was doing relatively well as she got her bearings in her somewhat clunky new boots, but then she fell. Although she caught herself with her right hand, she did scrape her nose. There was tears. There was swearing (from me, under my breath) as well as a quick clean up involving water and Kleenex.

Although I did strap darling daughter back into her stroller, it was only for a short time until I could assess damage. And there is nothing that Polysporin won't help. And like the trouper she is, she was back walking in her boots. My first thought was to keep her strapped in her stroller, but I realized that is just silly. While this may be her first official scrape of toddlerhood, it won't be the last. With the tears mopped up, I let her down so she could walk. And off she went, stomping in her pink rubber boots. My baby is growing up. It is hard to let go, especially when you don't want to.

The reason my Dyson is full of cake crumbs

Since tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day, I thought it would be nice if darling daughter and I decorated cupcakes.

I can't wait for the day until we can bake together. But if this morning's events were any indication, that day is likely a couple of years away.

With the cupcakes made last night, we were all set to decorate this morning. I got out the green candies, including the green M&Ms I painstakingly picked out of a bin at Bulk Barn for about 15 minutes (I used the scoop, not my hands) And we got down to work.

In reality, I decorated while darling daughter made a mess. While I had my back turned for a moment, darling daughter got a hold of two undecorated cupcakes. I keep on forgetting that darling daughter has an amazing reach. I can't keep anything on the table anymore because usually ends up in her little hands. The cupcakes kept her occupied while I started decorating. At about 20 months, there is no way that darling daughter could actively participate in the decorating process without making a mess or getting bored.

Although I did give her a cupcake to decorate, it didn't go over so well. Firstly, she grabbed the jelly bean and popped it into her mouth. Worried that she'd choke (perhaps jelly beans weren't the greatest of choices in terms of a topping) I fished it out of her mouth, resulting in her bursting into tears. I grabbed some M&Ms, sprinkled them on top of the cupcake and let her play with it. As she was dissembling the cupcake, getting icing on her hands and eating the M&Ms, I went to work. It was fun watching darling daughter "decorating" and I enjoyed decorating the cupcakes. While a huge mess was made that involved giving darling daughter a bath and me getting out the Dyson to vacuum chunks of cake, we had lots loads of fun. And that's what childhood is about: fun, messes and memories.

Springing ahead gives me a headache

This morning when my eyes popped open, I first thought it was 5 a.m. because it was pitch dark in the bedroom. So for a few minutes while I had an internal debate with myself if I should or shouldn't go to the washroom, I tried to squint at the clock on the cable converter box to see what time it was. No deal. Couldn't see clearly. So I unbundled myself from my warm cocoon and headed to the washroom. While on my way to the washroom, I glanced at the cable box. The time of 6:23 glowed back at me.

What?!? 6:23 a.m. You have to be kidding me. It is too dark out to be 6:23 in the morning.

Damn you daylight savings time.

I hate, hate, hate switching to daylight savings time and giving up an hour. It takes me about a week to get my body adjusted to the new time change. I seem to have no problem to switching back to standard time. Perhaps it is due to the fact we gain an hour.

The switch over to daylight savings time got off to a very rocky start. Surprise, surprise, darling daughter decided she didn't want to go to sleep on Saturday night. She got to bed late and she got up early. Trying to juggling a much needed morning nap with the usual afternoon nap was difficult in lieu of the time change. So while we tried to ensure that we nipped the overtired factor in the butt, both dear husband and I tried to get our bearings. As the afternoon wore on, I kept on glancing at the clocks to see what time it was. When 7 p.m. rolled around, I started to feel exhausted. And it was no wonder as darling daughter did get up for an hour between the hours of 5 and 6 a.m. (or was that 4 and 5 a.m. on the old time)? When 10 p.m. rolled around, I was ready to hit the hay.

While it may be nice to see the daylight hours extended past 6 p.m., I'm not looking forward to waking up in complete darkness for the next month. Until my body adjusts and I wake up to sunlight, pass the Tylenol because this springing ahead business gives me a headache.

Distraction no longer an option

Dear husband and I are in a real pickle.

Darling daughter has decided the kitchen is her absolutely favourite spot in the whole house. Wonderful. And write that sarcastically as we don't have an open concept house and unless you are sitting on the kitchen floor, as I am doing right at the moment, the kitchen isn't all that tolerable as there is no place to sit.

Darling daughter is fascinated with playing with the fridge magnets, opening up the Tupperware drawer, and picking up dirt off the floor. Distracting her is no longer an option. We've been trying all week, but she literally cries until you open up the baby gate to let her into the kitchen. Once the gate is open, she is all smiles and full of good cheer. All she wants to do is play in the kitchen and sit on the nearby stairs.

So dear husband and I are all out of ideas. We don't like to see our toddler so miserable. Toys in the living room have no allure anymore. Neither does climbing on the furniture. I guess we will be making a trip to Ikea in the very near future to buy a cheap table and chair set because it looks like we will be spending a bit of time in the kitchen.

Silence is golden

As the old saying goes, silence is golden.

I'm nearing the end of hour two of darling daughter's nap time. Lately, she has been having some great naps, which frees up time for me. In the last two hours, I've cleaned up our daily lunch mess, did laundry, watched The View, continued magic looping (a knitting technique) the sleeves of a hoodie that I'm making darling daughter and surfed the Internet. And now I'm a bit bored. I'm just waiting for her to wake up so we can head outside for a walk.

But maybe, just maybe, I should just enjoy the last remaining minutes of the silence rather than twiddling my thumbs, waiting for her to wake up. Because, as they say, silence is golden.

The fallout of dealing with sabotage

I hate being sabotaged by dear husband.

I truly know he doesn't mean it, but man, it sucks when he does it.

For the last two days, dear husband has been working from home. In darling daughter's mind, it is the weekend. But it clearly isn't as he has his office door closed, listening in on an conference call as he participates in a training session. Unless it is a statutory holiday, I don't like dear husband being home from Monday to Friday, between the hours of 8 a.m. and 4 p.m. He disrupts our flow of energy as well as our routine.

Since darling daughter is only 19 months, she doesn't understand why her father can't play with her. Darling daughter's new favourite activity is to sit on the bottom of the steps leading upstairs. But the way our house is laid out, it is hard to police her unless you are standing right there, watching her so she doesn't decide to climb upstairs. I try to distract her from stairs sitting with other activities, because quite frankly, I can't stand in one spot all day, watching her sit on the stairs. And if I let her, she'd sit on the stairs all day.

When dear husband came down for lunch today, what does he do? He allows her to sit on the stairs. He encourages it by rearranging the baby gates in the house to prevent her from bolting upstairs. Great, I think to myself. When he goes upstairs, shuts the door to the office and taps back into his conference call, I've got the task of explaining to a 19-month old why she can't sit on the stairs. And guess what? She doesn't like hearing the word no all that much.

Me: You know what? You are sabotaging me. You are a saboteur.

Dear husband: Sorry, but you know how she can press my buttons. I can't say no.

Me: You are worse than a house of cards on a windy day. You collapse too quickly. Stop sabotaging me.

Luckily for me, nap time starts at 12:30 p.m. I had dear husband rearrange the baby gates in hopes darling daughter doesn't get it in her head this afternoon that she needs to sit on the stairs. And if that fails, we'll be going on a long, extended walk this afternoon.

Ah, dealing with the fallout of sabotage isn't all that fun. But at least I will get some exercise out of it.

The dreaded witching hour

Wikipedia describes the term witching hour as the following: "In European folklore, the witching hour is the time when supernatural creatures such as witches, demons and ghosts are thought to be at their most powerful, and black magic at its most effective. This hour is typically midnight, and the term may now be used to refer to midnight, or any late hour, even without having the associated superstitious beliefs."

In my house, witching hour starts shortly at about 3 p.m., and usually ends when dear husband walks through the door two hours later. Witching hour usually coincides with typically hyper toddler behaviour that may include the following: banging and throwing toys, screaming and giggling loudly, getting into general mischief, tears and crying, and making high demands that can't be met. And there is usually a temper tantrum or two.

Now, let me stress the following: I'm not calling my toddler a witch. She is the most sweetest, kindest and charming little girl in the world. But in my experiencing, witching hour is that strange, two hour window when my toddler, who has usually recharged from her nap, is raring to go, while I'd like to curl on the couch and have a quick cat nap. And usually at this point I'm counting down the minutes to 5 p.m.

Dear husband rarely experiences the witching hour phenomenon. But he did on Saturday. After a run, I was so tired that I had a three hour nap. When I came come down, he was trying to figure out what was wrong with our crying, upset and unco-operative toddler who was refusing all his efforts in trying to comfort her.

Dear husband: What is wrong with her?

Me: (Glancing at the clock). It's 4 p.m. It's witching hour.

Dear husband: Witching hour? What is that?

Me: This is witching hour. (Pointing to our crying toddler). You usually the one who ends witching hours, but since this is Saturday and you aren't working, witching hour will likely go into bedtime.

And it did.

Today, witching hour is going okay. Darling daughter has had her moments. But I'm still counting down to 5 p.m. It is always nice to have an extra set of hands to help with darling daughter . . . as well as a well needed break.

Official occupation: Wonder Woman

Sometimes I forget what the "real world" is like. It has been almost been two years since I gave up my job to go on maternity leave and never return to the working world. I forgot that one measuring sticks society uses to evaluate one as a person is their occupation.


Let me explain. Yesterday I went to the bank to make a hurried retirement savings plan contribution as it was the absolute last deadline to do so. While doing the paperwork, the investment advisor asked me what my occupation was. With darling daughter in the stroller next to me, it wasn't all that hard for him to guess. "I'm a stay at home mom," I said.


"Okay," he said, typing in information into the computer. "Homemaker."


Homemaker? I'm a homemaker? This was news to me. I wanted to tell him the following: "Mister, you really should come over and take a peek at my home. I'm no homemaker. Homemaker would imply that I maintain and upkeep my home. I just don't have the time. I've got great intentions, but sometimes it doesn't work out. I've got toys strewn across my living room and downstairs playroom. I've got laundry piling up in the bedrooms. I've got dust bunnies reproducing underneath my beds and every crook and cranny in my house. At lunch time, for whatever inexplicable reason, it looks like an bomb went off in the kitchen because dirty dishes litter my counters and there are food stains all over the floor. And please don't look inside the microwave. It is just nasty. I try to do housework, but it is just too darn hard with a crying toddler hanging off my leg. Some days, I consider a successful day when I'm able to wash, dry and fold one load of laundry."

In hindsight what I should have told him to put down as my official occupation is Wonder Woman. "I think Wonder Woman is a better term that describes my occupation for the following reasons: Have you ever cared for a toddler on a couple hours of sleep? It's tough work. But what is tougher is negotiating with a toddler, especially one who is overtired. It is difficult and challenging, and there are times you want to give in to their demands, but you have to remain strong. Nap time negotiations are the hardest. When they sense weakness, they'll pounce and quickly use it to their advantage. And how about dealing with a picky toddler, the type who isn't happy with the food being presented to her so she dumps it all over the floor? And all you want to do is cry because all your hard work is at your feet on the same floor you just washed an hour ago. Yep, it is hard to remain calm, but you must. Like I said earlier, they can sense weakness easily. . . . And have you ever competed in the car seat Olympics? Bundling up said toddler in a snow suit, hauling them out to the car, getting them in and buckled into the car seat, driving to destination, arriving to destination, extracting them from the car seat and into a stroller? Do that three times a day and there is no need to go to the gym. . ."

Later that evening, I told my friend that the bank has classed my official occupation as homemaker. We both had a quiet chuckle. But I'm more inclined to say that I'm a Wonder Woman. Regardless if you stay at home, work from home or work out of the home, all mothers are Wonder Women. Because as I'm quickly discovering, the hardest job there is is being a mother.

We're loud, we're proud and we're Canadian!

Today, it is hard not to be proud to be Canadian.

The Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympic Games are over. Vancouver is cleaning up from its 17 days of being in the world spotlight, athletes are heading home and eastern Canadians are sighing a weary breath of relief that the late nights of being glued to the television have finally come to an end.

While Canada didn't Own The Podium in every sense of the word, it did set an Olympic record medal haul of 14 gold medals, beating the old record of the 13. That record certainly makes up for Canada never winning a gold medal on home soil. And winning a total of 26 medals is not to shabby at all.

In these last 17 days, we have seen Frederic Bilodeau cheer in the stands for his brother Alex when he won Canada's first gold medal in men's moguls. We've seen figure skater Joannie Rochette, heartbroken from her mother's sudden death, continue with her Olympic dream and go on to win a bronze medal. The women's bobsleigh teams didn't fail to disappoint as they both won gold and silver in the two-person event. We've seen the men's speed skaters bounce back from disappointment, winning gold in both the relay and team pursuit events. (And who can forget that crazy finish in the men's 500-metre finals where Charles Hamelin captured gold and teammate Francois-Louis Tremblay snagged bronze. As one of my friends said on facebook, it almost looked like Hamelin did a pirouette over the finish line). And of course both the women's and men's hockey teams were able to deliver gold on home turf.

While I didn't think anything could top the inflatable beavers and flying moose from last night's closing ceremonies, this morning, the ladies of The View paid homage to Canada by walking out to the table to O Canada. Regardless of where our national anthem is played, even if it is on a talk show, it is hard not to feel proud.

A Canadian friend of mine, who lives out of the country, asked me to send her the front page of the newspaper. There was so much Olympic coverage in both the Citizen and Sun today that I couldn't help ripping out every page and stuffing it into an envelope. Hey, I'm a proud Canadian. I like to spread the patriotism around.

It is bittersweet to see the Olympics come to an end. I feel a tad lost today as I surf through the channels, expecting to hear Jamie Campbell or Rod Black's voice in the background while athletes race on the ice or fly in the air.

It's back to regular scheduled programming. Thanks for the memories Vancouver. They will last a lifetime.