Things I would tell my toddler self

As darling daughter exerts her personality and independence, I ask myself why is she in a hurry to grow up? Obviously, she is growing and wants to explore the environment and world around her. But I'm in no hurry for this stage to pass. Time is flying by and one day soon she will be a teenager, asking for the car keys. In less than four months she will be turning two. She's starting to string two words together. Lately, she has been squawking, wanting out of her stroller. She tries to "help" me fold clothes (not much folding goes on). Saying the word no to her is unacceptable. (However, she has no qualms telling me or dear husband no while flailing her arms to make her point clearer).

Yesterday, we went to a local museum. When I was changing darling daughter, she was putting up a fuss. Sympathetic, I remarked, "Yes, I know that it is hard being 20 months." While my remark may sound cynical, half of me is being truthful. As an adult, it is hard to imagine how big the world around must look like if you are a toddler. Obviously, they must feel frustration and confusion when trying to communicate with adults, especially when they're just learning how to string two words together.

But at the same time, I am being a bit cynical. From my point of view, the life of a toddler looks pretty darn good. And I don't think I'm the only mother in the world who feels like that. While I was changing darling daughter, a mom who I spotted in the cafeteria earlier, was washing her hands at the sink and she overheard my comment. She smiled and said that she has told her husband that she wants to be pushed around in an oversized Chariot and eat snacks that have been prepared by someone else. I laughed and replied that sounded like a great idea.

Watching darling daughter hit the toddler years, I wonder to myself, did I truly appreciate my toddler years? And what would I tell my toddler self now?

Perhaps I would address the following points with my toddler self:

* Sit and relax in the stroller. Don't be in a rush to get out. Soon enough you'll be too big for it. Plus, isn't it nice to have someone push you around?

* The food and snacks Mom makes for you is made with love. Please be respectful and not chuck it on the floor.

* Don't be in a rush to help with household chores such as laundry and dusting. Believe you me, there will be lots of time for that.

* No doubt about it, teething is a pain.

* Naps are good. You may not think so now, but have at least one nap a day. When you are older, you'll be wishing you can find time to nap.

* Vegetables are good for you, even broccoli.

* No is not a bad word. Sometimes it needs to be said.

* Bibs are a proactive way to avoid stains.

* And don't be a hurry to grow up. I realize the world around you is a place that needs to be explored, but soon enough you'll be an adult and dealing with adult issues. Take this time to enjoy your toddlerhood as you'll only be a toddler once in your life. And enjoy the ride, especially the ride in the stroller. One day, you may find yourself pushing one.

Gotta run . . . update number four

Twenty five runs.

That's what it has taken for me to run 5k. I ran 5k straight, outside, with no walking breaks on Tuesday evening with my friend T. At first, I had no inclination that would run 5k, but I did. T is a true competitor spirit and I knew she wouldn't stop for walking breaks. So we ran. The last leg of the route was the hardest, but I pushed through and made it. We finished in 32 minutes.

The question then became: can I run alone without taking a walking break?

When I run alone, I push myself by asking myself if I can get to the next intersection, the mailbox off in the distance or to the hill. But sometimes I just stop for a walking break. The other day, running coach and friend, C, asked me why I stop for breaks. Good question. I'm not too sure if it is because I need it or I think I need to stop. But sometimes I feel like walking breaks aren't a good thing. Yes, I think I want that break, but if I take that break it will be harder to start running again. Perhaps it is just better for me to push through and keep on running.

So yesterday, I ran alone. I didn't think I'd finish without a walking break because I had ran the last two days. After tying my running shoes and walking to the starting point, I started to run.

I got to the first intersection, then the second and third. I ran past the mailbox and the intersection near the elementary school. I changed the route by making a left onto a long drive that is a part of my route. Instead of running up the big hill, I ran down it. However, I had to run up another hill (you don't realize how big hills actually are until you are running) on the way back. I wanted to take a walking break after I made it down that big hill, but I kept pushing forward. Once I made the last turn towards the finish line, I kept on going. I even picked up the pace. With my heart beating and my lungs crying out for air, I finished in 39 minutes. Although I'm not too concerned with time at this point, I should point out this route is a bit longer than Tuesday's route. According to the odometer of my car, it is 5.2 kilometres, while Gmaps Pedometer measures out the route at 5.4 kilometers. I'll happily take the Gmaps measurements as the official distance.

I'm not too sure where I go from here when it comes to running. Heck yes, I'm going to keep on running, but I'm not too sure if I should work on time or start slowly increasing distance. But I do know that running is addictive and my feet are starting to look forward to the quality time it spends with the pavement. I haven't ran on a treadmill in more than a week and I'm not too sure if I can go back to running on a droning machine. It's weird how things can change.

A yummy solution for sour blueberries

I want to thank my friend J for this great suggestion when it comes to dealing with sour blueberries.

Over the weekend, dear husband bought several pints of blueberries. When I went to wash some for darling daughter for a snack, I discovered one of the pints were sour as old heck. This is not the first time this has happened. I've tried to bake with sour blueberries in the past, but I've have had little success.

With the possibility of six pints of sour blueberries hitting the garbage bin, I cringed. But what else could I do with them? I turned to Facebook and asked my peeps.

Suggestions given to me included making pancakes, jam and using them in hot cereal. Other than the jam, I was hesitant to bake or eat them due to their sourness, until J suggested cooking them with maple syrup.

And here what I did. I weighed out 400 grams of blueberries (as it turns out only one of the pints were sour), dumped them into a sauce pan and added 300 millilitres of maple syrup. Brought it to a boil, before letting the mixture simmer on the stove. While it was simmering, I used a potato masher to mash the berries. I cooked it for 30 minutes until it was basically a purple mess. I immediately poured the mixture into a container, let it cool and put it in the refrigerator.

And it worked! The maple syrup covered the sourness of the blueberries. However, the mixture is too messy and runny to use as a pie filling, but it would be good on pancakes, French toast and on cheese cake. Now I just have to make a cheese cake to go with the blueberry goop. Yum!

Car seats and vomit is a gross combination

There is nothing like a vomit incident to cut short a family outing.

I am convinced that darling daughter suffers from occasional motion sickness. We’ve had our share of vomit incidents while travelling. One of the worst incidents we experienced was last spring when we were in the States on our way to visit friends. She threw up at a restaurant and then later when we were back on the Interstate, she threw up again all over herself and the car seat. I hate cleaning up vomit from car seats. It sticks to everything and it seems impossible to clean up. It is disgusting.

Since dear husband has the week off, I’ve been wanting to go to a sugar bush. Unfortunately, this week looks pretty crappy weatherwise. But this morning, it looked okay. So after packing the diaper bag, the stroller and an extra couple of coats, we were on our way.

We were two exits away from Kinburn Side Road when darling daughter vomited. It is scary to watch your toddler vomit, especially in their car seat. Dear husband quickly pulled the car onto the side of the highway and we got out to assess the damage. She was covered in vomit. She was in tears. And no wonder. I wouldn’t want to be covered in vomit, either. I thank my lucky stars that I forgot to put her in her new hoodie that I knitted for her. I would have cried if she had thrown up on it.

So we did a quick clean up, got off at the next exit, turned around and went home. Field trip over. *Sigh* After stripping her out of her vomit covered clothes and giving her a bath, then there was the task of cleaning the car seat. Thankfully, water, vinegar and elbow grease got the car seat squeaky clean. But I still hate vomit. Dealing with it is one of the grosser sides to parenthood.

Gotta run . . . update number three

Two separate runs. Two very different experiences.

On Friday, I ran outside with my running coach and friend, C, for the very first time. As predicted, I was a mess. I was unable to get my erratic breathing under control. I felt out of breath throughout the run, due to the fact I was running too fast. I had to take three walking breaks. Even though it was only four kilometres, it wasn't a very good run.

In retrospect, it was a great learning experience. C informed me that I was running too fast. Actually, I run faster outside than I do on a treadmill, she told me, adding that I needed to find my pace, one that suited my breathing.

Today, we ran again. And I had a very much better result. First off, C set the pace. It was slower than Friday's run. My breathing was under control. For me, a good part of running is succeeding in the the mental game. Can I get to the next corner? Can I get to the next intersection? Can I even make the next step?

I ran past the point where I usually take my first walking break. Can I get up the small hill? I asked myself. Yes I can, I replied when I ran past it and to the corner.

More questions started popping into my head.

Can I get past the corner? Yes.

Can I get to the mailbox? Yes.

Can I get to the next intersection near the elementary school? Yes.

Can I get to the end of the street? Yes.

Can I get past the park and to the houses in the distance? Yes.

And this is where it starts to get tricky. In this particular route, there is a hill. In fact, it is a big hill. I don't like big hills. I could change the route and run down it, but I've decided I need to challenge myself, despite the fact that I usually walk up the hill. In fact, I usually walk from the corner, past the park and up the hill. But today, I was in the zone. I dug in and ran up the hill. Once I crested and got past it, I needed to stop. And even though I had to take a walking break, this was a huge milestone as this was the first time I ran so long outside without stopping once. According to Gmap Pedometer, I ran roughly 3.1 kilometres. Amazing! I never thought in my life I'd run 3.1 kilometres. But now I have shown myself that I can.

After a walking roughly two minute walking break, I dug in again and ran the rest of the course. Towards the end, we pushed it, picking up the pace to the finish line. In all, I ran roughly five kilometres when you exclude my walking break. Last week I thought I was nuts to even start running. The goal is to run a 5k race without stopping. Now I am on my way in doing that. And I'm even starting to enjoy running outside. Amazing!

Love of chocolate must be a genetic thing

I learned something about darling daughter this morning: she loves chocolate.

For Easter, I filled plastic eggs with goodies such as toddler gummies, puffy snacks and M&Ms for an Easter egg hunt. This is the first time we have willingly given darling daughter chocolate. During the hunt, M&Ms spilled onto the floor after darling daughter threw one of the plastic eggs. Looking at the mess she created, she gingerly picked up a M&M off the floor, popped it into her mouth and she was instantly hooked. She no longer wanted to hunt for Easter eggs. She wanted to eat chocolate.

It took some cajoling on our parts to get darling daughter to resume the fun. At one point, I had to place some of her new found stash on the tray of her booster seat so she could have a wee bit of a taste of her goodies while she continued to hunt for eggs. Once the goodies were all gone, she wanted more chocolate. Facing the prospect of a hyper toddler on a sugar high, I had to put my foot down, which resulted in tears. Fortunately, some toddler gummies helped to sooth over hard feelings.

So darling daughter has a sweet tooth just like her momma. It must be genetic.

On the road to getting answers and recovery

Today is a good day. I live for good days. And who doesn't? But lately, some of my days haven't been so good.

In October, I blogged about having a miscarriage and how I found the silence to be deafening. Two months ago today, I suffered a second miscarriage. This time I was further along. Sadly, what I experience was a missed miscarriage. I didn't realize I had lost the baby until I went for a dating ultrasound.

Quite simply, the last two months have been horrible. I thought I paid my dues in October when I miscarried the first time. Apparently not.

I'm the type of person who demands answers. For 10 years I was a journalist whose job description was to get answers for my readers on issues that were important to them. And I think I did a damn good job in that regard. Unfortunately, I have gotten no answers as to why I have suffered two early miscarriages. My family doctor says she can give me a list longer than her arm as to why miscarriages happen, but she can't give me a specific reason why this has happened to me.

That isn't good enough. I want to know. I need to know. The responses of "these things happen, it's bad luck, there was something wrong with the baby" simply infuriate me. I don't want to hear that crap or feel the sympathetic but awkward gazes from my doctor who is unable to give a specific reason why I've gone through not only once, but twice. I want answers.

Hopefully I will be getting answers soon. Today I felt a load lifted off my shoulders when I got a letter in the mail confirming my appointment to a fertility clinic. When I was holding that piece of paper in my hands today, I felt like I've turned a corner in my recovery. Although I've been told that 40 per cent of couples who suffer from some sort of infertility won't get answers as to why they are experiencing problems (and I've got a gut feeling I'll be put in that category), 60 per cent do get some sort of answer. And right at this moment, I just want an answer. I just want to know why. Because the not knowing may be one of the worst part of this whole experience. Was it something I ate? Was it something I did? Did I exercise too much? Did I worry to much? Is it low progesterone? Or do I have some undiagnosed condition? And the unanswered questions go on and on.

And getting answers is part of my recovery. Yesterday, a friend of mine told me she was expecting. Although I did experience a twinge of sadness for myself, I did feel true happiness for her. I didn't burst into tears or feel like I've been punched in the gut, which usually happens when I hear pregnancy news. And that made me happy for both me and her. I consider my reaction to her wonderful news as a positive sign that I'm on the road to recovery. And while it is still early days, I realize that I've got a long way to go in coming to terms with my losses.

And if I don't get answers, then I'll have to live with that. And maybe I can take some comfort knowing that I've done everything I possibly can in my pursuit to get answers.

In some respects when it comes to miscarriages and pregnancy loss, especially when it comes to the medical community, I could write a novel. But in some respects, I can't write about his subject. The pain is too much. The National Post published this story describing the lonely pain of pregnancy loss. It is an excellent read and the brave and courageous women who were interviewed for this story sum up my feelings. Pregnancy loss is a subject that is often ignored, which is a tragedy since it happens so often. And by talking about it, hopefully the taboo around this subject can be eliminated.