Vacation Time

Ah vacation. It’s a wonderful thing.

My son woke up at 5 and, in my sleep state, I thought I had to get up and go to work. By the time I brought him back into my bed, I realized no rushing was necessary.

In fact, we got to sleep in until 7:30 a.m.

When he turned on the radio and the weatherman told us it was going to be -30 and blustery and cold, we opted to stay at home and play rather than go grocery shopping.

It’s going to be a fun, relaxing week everyone.

PS
Christmas was fantastic. I hope yours was, too.

Merry Christmas to All

Merry Christmas.

I hope your day is white, fun-filled and sounded by the people you love.

Lisa

It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I have been getting to work in record time this week.

Christmas, March Break and the summer are all great times to travel on Hwy. 404 because so many people take vacation.

I left 10 minutes late yesterday and that would usual cause morning stress but I just zipped through all the usual slow spots.

It’s almost a shame that I am also off next week - almost, but not quite.

The Time is Near

I was unplugging the Christmas tree lights the other night and realized I haven’t spent nearly enough time just enjoying the sparkle.

We put our tree up the first weekend of December. I water the tree twice a day, my son and I play beside it (and we pull him back as he goes to eat the lights or pull the balls off) but somehow the days of December have flown by without me simply sitting by the tree and enjoying the view.

I love Christmas. I don’t love how the holiday comes – and then leaves – so quickly. It’s Dec. 22. I have only watched three Christmas movies and listened to my CDs on my IPod a dozen or so times. I have done some baking, but not enough. I have done some wrapping, but love to do more.

There needs to be more time to simply enjoy the lead up to Christmas and then more time to enjoy it after the one day.

I think everyone should be off four days after Christmas so there is time to look at the tree, enjoy your gifts, visit with family and friends and feel the peace of the season.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Quick to Criticize, Slow to Thank

My apologies to both Huggies and Pampers. It seems that I am also guilty of being quick to criticize and slow to thank.

I try really hard to say thank you.

When I receive gifts, I always follow up with a thank-you card. When I read a reporters stories, I try to call to say ‘Great job’ almost as often as I call to ask questions.

People like to be recognized for a job well done. Human nature, I suppose.

So with that, I apologize to both disposables diaper companies. I wrote several blog entries complaining about sitting in puddles after my son peed through his diaper. As my friend pointed out, as I use cloth all day, my son has not grown with the diapers so it is hard to know which size to buy. And I had no idea the weight range was just a guide.

So you could see why I was having troubles.

So I wrote some nasty blogs about both Pampers and Huggies, tried another size and then was silent. I was no longer sitting in puddles, but I didn’t tell anyone that either.

And then the coupons started, with both Pampers and Huggies responding to my email and sending me coupons in the mail.

My son is in Size 5 diapers – first Pampers, now Huggies – and usually stays dry for most of the night.

So thank you Pampers and Huggies for responding to my email, teaching me the ways of disposables and for continually sending me ways to save money.

Thank you.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

Why can’t workplaces get the temperature correct?

I am sitting at work with a sweater and my jacket on, wondering if I should slip out of my shoes and put on my outdoor winter boots. Often I am so cold I get all-over body shakes and I use the heat from my lunch to warm my hands and body.

Unfortunately, I can’t hold onto my lunch forever and as soon as it is consumed, the heat is gone and I am back to being frozen.

The only thing that works is to get into my car. crank the heat to high and drive for a hour. By the time I get home, I am usually warm or at least thawed. Sometimes, I require a hot chocolate and a sweater or two.

I commented to my boss this morning that I was wondering why I bother to dress up. No one can see what I wear any way so wouldn’t it make more sense for me to wear jeans, a sweater and running shoes so I could be comfortable and warm?

His response was what I was expecting - you are probably right but you can’t wear jeans.

Everything is New Again

What’s really neat about babies, and toddlers, is that everything is new.

While my son experienced his first snowfall last year, he was wrapped in a snowsuit, in a blanket and then in his carriage. It’s not quite the same thing.

This year, he is really experiencing snow for the first time. After our first snowfall, and before we left for the day, I brought in a handful of snow and gave it to him.

He touched it. Squished it. And of course ate it, offering me his ‘Ew, gross’ face. He then put it down. Picked it up. Squished it again.

Yesterday, I loved watching his face as he pointed out the big, fluffy flakes that were falling from the sky, not only in the window in front of him, but also the window to the right of him.

And while he also experienced Christmas last year, this year will also be tons of fun as experiences the sights, sounds and tastes of the season.

Not Quitting My Day Job

I like to be creative.

Unfortunately, the desire is there but the skill is sadly lacking.

Each year, I attempt a holiday craft and each year my family graciously accepts it. My parents often hang my attempts on their tree, which is quite kind of them.
Sometimes I am successful. Other times, not so much.

I also try to be creative in other ways such as scrapbooking. However, what a page looks like in my head is often not what it looks like when, two or three hours later, I finish the design. I also handcraft cards, and I am pretty sure my family members are whispering among themselves that they wished I would just forget their birthdays.

This Christmas, I am at it again.

Remember, it’s the thought that counts.

Ah Friday

Fridays are a wonderful.

Other than for the obvious reason, Fridays are also wonderful because there is less traffic.

I can leave at the same time, drive at the same speed and make it into work 10 minutes earlier. I can flip on the radio, turn on the Christmas tunes on the iPod and just drive, rarely touching the brakes.

Every day could be Wonderful-Traffic Fridays if more companies would embrace the idea of telecommuting and flex hours. Not only would it make for happy employees, companies would be doing their part for the environment.

One more thing:

Happy Hanukkah to everyone who celebrates the Festival of Lights.

Almost Over

This has felt like an exceptionally long week. I woke up today thinking it was Friday.

Unfortunately, I was wrong and Thursday dragged by as much as the three days that preceded it. All day long I thought my work week was almost done and all day long I had to keep reminding myself that I do indeed have to get up tomorrow and face another day.

The lengthy week likely felt even longer because of yesterday’s three-hour morning commute. By the time Wednesday was done, I had spent more than four hours in the car.

Today’s weather, while much improved, caused a bit of stress because the radio announcers kept saying the roads were covered in black ice and snow squalls were likely.

I never hit either, thankfully, but people were like we were so while we were all safe, it was another long, stressful drive.

But if my week felt lengthy, I couldn’t imagine how it felt to be my friend CM, who had to return to work after being off for a year’s maternity leave.

It has been more than a month since my own return but I remember that week well.

Our long week is almost over. Thank goodness.

Bring on Miami’s Socks

We call them Jo’s socks.

My friend Jo A.’s mother bought these thick, white sports socks in Miami. As in Florida. As in no winter. As in no snow. As in hot. As in sticky. As in muggy. Miami.

These socks are at least five years old and both my husband and I go directly to Jo’s socks when we are doing any outdoor winter activities such as ice fishing, hiking or snowshoeing.

Miami socks. Great for Canada’s winter.

Pathetic, Really

“Pathetic isn’t he?” Ron Weasley asks Harry Potter in the first book of the same name.

“Just a little,” replies Harry.

And pathetic is what you would say to my attempt at building a gingerbread house.
Despite the urge to create a cookie masterpiece, I should have known the end result would be far less spectacular than what I had imagined. After all, my incredibly patient mother vowed she would never make one again.

My brothers and I used to make Christmas gifts from my mom’s brother, sisters and parents. One year, we created six gingerbread houses, which, I might add, looked a lot better than the monstrosity I created yesterday.

First of all, I used a mix. My husband free-handed the house design, which I then baked and cooked up trees, a reindeer and gingerbread men with the extra dough. Yesterday, I whipped up a different type of icing and tried to stick the pieces together.

Yikes.

My peaked roof became a flat one and the entire house has a lean to it. I could hear the ‘Christmas lights’ falling off and hitting the ‘ground’ and the wreath slid down, pushing the door to the floor. But my chimney and gingerbread man look good, and the presents - which I did create - are pretty impressive, too.

Unfortunately, the icing tastes terrible and the cookie itself isn’t that great either. So it will be pathetic decoration for the holidays and then the compost can have it.

Hello Tree

It’s starting to look like Christmas at our house.

We went Christmas tree hunting today. Sadly there was no snow this year, which made it less festive but easier to cut the tree and lug it back to the car.

We went to a different tree farm this year. The farm was a little closer to home and it offered complimentary hot cider AND hot chocolate. However, the wagon ride didn’t start until after we walked the majority of the farm and we had a hard time finding the perfect tree so we’ll return to the usual spot next year.

We walked for a while, up hills, over rope, down hills, across field until finally my son and I played, while Daddy scouted out some trees further back.
He found one, which we all liked and now it’s in our living room, awaiting lights and decorations.

I love decorating the Christmas tree.

I love pulling out the ornaments I have had since I was our son’s age, looking at them again and placing them in key tree spots.

While a number of my friends like the look of a store-decorated tree, where ornaments match and are placed strategically in specific spots, I like the I-can-tell-it-was-decorated-by-non-professionals tree - ornaments that were bought with love and placed on the tree the same way.

Hello to the continuation of Christmas.

Bird Watching

I love watching for hawks.

I had heard the sighting of these magnificant birds is rare but that doesn’t seem to be the case wherever I am.

I often see them soaring in the sky, perching on tree branches or highway signs, swooping down to catch prey or flying off with the dinner still struggling in its talons.

New Experience

I just shopped at Amazon.ca. While I have purchased expensive airline tickets online, the thought of spending $10 at an organization I have never dealt with before made me a little nervous.

I tried yesterday, but the movie I was trying to purchase was only available through a third party, which I didn’t like. How do I know who the third party is and whether I will be ripped over and never receive what I ordered?

So after speaking to my coworker, who pointed me to the website in the first place, I decided to try it again. He suggested sticking with new items from Amazon.ca, which he has never had a problem with.

So while my little guy was sleeping, I logged back into my account and shopped away.
It was fun, easy to use and my gifts will arrive in time for Christmas. If I hated wrapping, there was also a gift-wrapping service.

Feeling Disconnected

The Internet was down all weekend and I noticed it.

Saturday morning, I turned on the computer to do some banking and to check out Amazon.ca. And I couldn’t get onto the Internet. ‘Not connected’, the computer told me despite the server being at the best level I have ever seen it yet.

I restarted the computer. I double checked to make sure the Internet was working. I made sure the router was working. I reinstalled the router. I pulled this cable and yanked on that cord. I performed the Windows diagnostic on the computer. I followed its directions. I called my Dad. Finally, I begged my husband to hardwire the Internet into my computer.

By Sunday this was done.

In the meantime, I had to go to the mall and hope for the best in shopping bargains and do my banking in my head.

For someone who has trouble with simple math and who requires a visual reminder of how broke she is, it was a challenge.

I haven’t yet checked if we still have a house and whether I blew the gas money for the week.

I do know that while the Internet was down, I was able to do the laundry and clean the bathroom. Not that the extra time gained makes me want to be unplugged for any length of time again.

Another Christmas Read

Another Christmas book I read each year is Richard Paul Evan’s The Christmas Box.

I bought this book years ago at a sale and the quick read is a must each time this festive season rolls around.

I am always confused if this is a true story. It reads like it is, complete with a note of where you can drop flowers off in Salt Lake City, however, the front of the book says that is a work of pure fiction.

Regardless of the authenticity of the book, the story is about a man, his wife and their daughter who rent space from an older woman who, despite her tragic story, understands the true meaning of Christmas.

It’s a beautifully written book and one that makes me cry each year.

There are actually two other books that were written after this one, which tells the back story of MaryAnne Parker and her family. They are excellent books but I don’t need to read about that much heartache at Christmastime, or any time really.

Winner, Blog of the Year Award

Thank you, to Joanne Abrahams of Coconut Palm Designs (http://coconutpalmdesigns.blogspot.com/) who nominated me for the Blog of the Year Award.



According to the rules of the contest, you must post the news on your blog, along with the name of the person who honoured you with the award and a link to her blog.

Remember to contact the bloggers you’ve awarded to let them know they have been chosen.

I nominate LF Jarron (http://photos-lfjarron.blogspot.com/) and Patrick LaMontagne (http://patricklamontagne.blogspot.com) for the Blog of the Year Award.

I encourage you to visit LF Jarron's and Patrick LaMontagne's blogs and check out their amazing work.

Thank you again.

Lisa Day

They Now Say ...

They now say teething and fevers do not go hand-in-hand.

They now say that you shouldn’t give egg yolks to a baby until he is at least a year old.

They now say a baby should sleep on his back and he should not be covered in blankets.

Every time the words “they say” are uttered out of my mouth, a little voice, which sounds suspiciously like my Dad, says “Who are they?”

Who are they indeed. “They” are studies, doctors and anyone else who has written an article and published it in a magazine.

And why are today’s “they” are right while yesterday’s “they” are wrong. Not sure, but they said so.

What a Year

Tomorrow will be the first anniversary of our son’s health scare.

We went to Sick Kids today to be fitted for another holter - a heart monitor he wears for 24 hours but I am not concerned it will show anything wrong.
He is a heart-healthy boy.

What a difference a year makes. From sickly white and refusing to nurse at this time last year, to having a snack of sausage rolls and waiting impatiently for dinner today, you would never know he almost didn’t make it.

Ironically, though, he is sick today. He has a cold and a touch of a fever.

But I can take that over heart issues any day.

It’s Christmas book time

There are several Christmas traditions I enjoy: baking cookies with my mom, sister-in-law, niece and now son; getting and decorating the Christmas tree the first weekend in December, pulling out the Christmas cookbook; and reading a couple of Christmas stories. One book I will discuss later.

But let’s first talk about A Christmas Miracle.

This collection of four short stories is considered a historical romance. I love historical books. I am usually not a fan of the romance, but these stories are more than just a nice love story and great sex.

Each of the main characters in the stories by Virginia Henley, Katherine Kingsley, Rebecca Paisley and Stephanie Mittman feature a strong woman who, while often from a lower class, teach the man in her world what is really important about life and the true meaning of Christmas.

Each story in the book is set in the past, in a time in history that I love (think Black Creek Pioneer Village time, which is likely why the Steeles Avenue historical site is one of my favourite places to go).

While I am not naive enough to think those times weren’t tough, particularly for someone who was poor, it also seems like it was a romantic, gentle time.

You had to work hard but the pleasures were simple - a horse-driven sleigh ride, skating on the pond, decorations and gifts that were made by hand and a celebration of family.

Talented Friends

A special thank you to my good friend Joanne Abrahams, who created my avatar, the little picture that goes along with my blog.

Jo and I met her first year at Humber College in Etobicoke, and while I can’t say we were instant friends (she gave me a really dirty look when I invited her for lunch. I later found out her mom just left so I am glad I cut her some slack. But apparently I told my lunchmate ‘Well! Isn’t SHE friendly,’ so I guess I should say I am thankful she gave me a second chance after being so rude) but we were fast friends.

We spent most of our spare time in college debating religion to wee hours of the morning, playing cards, hanging out and chatting. We cheered each other, cried with each other and have celebrated life’s ups and downs. Our friendship survived her move back to Jamaica, her return and her final move to Belize, where she found happiness in her little boy, M, and her melange of pets including her newest addition, Max.

In Belize, Jo has cut herself a niche in the tourist world and in the Internet one.

Her full-time job, outside raising her almost two-year-old solo, is selling sunglasses to the tourists. But her other job combines her skill as a graphic designer with her love of power tools - designing welcome, garden and name signs.

She also creates wonderful avatars and hand-painted cards.

And while I have one of her welcome signs hanging on my door, one of my favourites pieces of Jo’s is an ad campaign she created while in college.

The picture was of a Cadbury Crunchie bar. She had rolled back the chocolate to reveal the sponge toffee inside. Crunchie is probably my least favourite chocolate bar but as soon as I saw Jo’s rendition, I immediately wanted to consume a Crunchie bar. And every time I think of it now, the same thing happens.

Check out Jo’s blog at http://coconutpalmdesigns.blogspot.com

Also check her out at http://www.bonanzle.com/booths/CoconutPalmDesigns. And follow her on Twitter: http://twitter.com/CoconutPalmDsgn

So Begins The Season

I followed Sum41Mum down the 404 this morning. She looked old enough to have a 24-year-old son. Don’t you wish you could flag people down and ask them questions? Questions such as are you really Sum 41's Mum?

This weekend was the start of the Christmas season for me. While I have been listening to Christmas tunes on my iPod for more than a week now, Saturday my son and I were at my parents’ house with my sister-in-law and niece partaking in our annual baking day.

I ate more cookies than I decorated and they were delicious.

I am quite excited for Christmas this year. I am in the mood to shop, wrap and watch Christmas movies, although I find the later hard now that my little guy is here. Perhaps I will take some time off in the evening to simply enjoy movies like Disney’s Beauty and The Beast Christmas, Will Ferrell’s Elf, the new version of Miracle on 34th Street, It’s a Wonderful Life and other favourites.

Licence Plates and Diapers?

On my way home from work today, I saw a vehicle with this licence plate: 2WDS4U.
I thought it was quite clever.

I have decided I like the smell of disposable diapers. They smell, obviously, like baby or I guess baby smells like them. When we were waiting for our little guy to make his appearance, I had the top drawer of his change table filled with everything I might need - lotion, shampoo, body wash, a package of newborn disposable diapers and wipes. I loved opening that drawer and letting that smell waft through the room. Baby. It can only be described as baby.

Leave The Car At Home

I heard on the news today that a government think-tank has suggested road tolls to help with the GTA’s gridlock problem. The news report suggested gridlock is responsible for loss productivity and increased food prices, among other things.

I agree that gridlock is a problem, and one that is only getting worse.

However, rather than taxing motorists, with the idea that an extra tax on roads and parking will get them to leave their cars at home, how about providing tax relief to businesses that allow their employees to work from home or have flexible hours?

Or perhaps the government can create a provincewide transit system that makes it more convenient to take a bus, train or subway rather than a car.

Appreciation

Week 1 at the office is almost over. And I can't tell you how happy I am. Forty hours away from my son is a long time, particularly since I don't think I had been away from him 40 hours in his life up this point.

Friends and family will know that I had proposed working from home two days a week and having flex hours the other three days. Those same people will also know how disappointed, although not surprised, I was when I was turned down.

However, I have been remiss in the fact that I haven't publicly said thank you to my boss who has allowed me to have different flex hours. I thanked him personally this week but I think the world needs to know that I appreciate his generosity. I have been bitter since the news.

So thank you to AT who has allowed me to come to the office at 7:30 and work through my lunch three days a week so I can leave at 2:30 and be home by 3:30. This gives me three hours a day to spend with me son. Not great, but better than a hour.

Getting To Know Strangers

I love personalized license plates.

I should state here that I do not want to one for Christmas. However, I do like the fact that other people seem willing to spend more than $200 on a personal message for their car.

While I see no point in having one’s name on one’s license plate, I do like the plates that are a puzzle. I like following these people until I have figured out what they are trying to say. I am always impressed by people’s cleverness.

My favourite aspect of personalized license plates is feeling of familiarity you get.

For example, on the way down Hwy. 404 this morning, I saw Baby Dol. I haven’t seen Baby Dol since before my maternity leave and as I was passing her, I smiled and said good morning.

Also prior to my maternity leave, I would follow IM Woodsy down Warden Avenue. We obviously had to be at work at the same time and it always pleased me to see him each day. He was like my morning routine. So you can imagine how excited I was when I ended up following IM Woodsy home. We obviously left work at the same time as well. And we obviously both rushed out of the city so we could spend time in the country.

And then there is 8 Legs.

I am not sure what 8 Legs does, but I have also followed him north on the 404. Then, while on maternity leave, I discovered 8 Legs is a neighbour. What a small world.

I also have a neighbour who is a Diamond.

Now Diamond, and other people who have personal license plates, should be a little more cautious. I know who Diamond is. I know his vehicle. I know where he lives. So when you pass me at high speeds or tailgate me, it makes me want to knock on your door and tell you to smarten up. You don’t treat your neighbours that way.

What The?

I saw the most ridiculous thing on my way down Hwy. 404 this morning.

It was an old Dodge Caravan with an after-market fin. Yes, a man who was old enough to know better put a fin on a minivan.

What was he thinking?

Studies Say ...

Studies say that children who go to daycare are more social and do better in school.

Quite frankly, I don’t care what the studies say.

And isn’t it insulting to the generation of children who were raised by their mothers? Were we social-inept, stupid children? I don’t think so.

So perhaps the study isn’t telling us all that we need to know or maybe it’s telling us this so we don’t feel bad about plunking our children in daycare for 10 hours a day while we get “me” time.

Let the Sadness Begin

Tomorrow I begin to pay someone to have the privilege of looking after my son.

Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t someone pay me to give up the privilege of raising my son?

Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween from the firefly and the fairy.
Thank you again, to A. RT, who made the costumes. Thank you to all the neighbours who gave my son candy, even though he is too young to eat it. And yes, the chocoholic in me said "Yes!", but the conscience is saying "Bad, Lisa."
Thank you also to AD, who let me borrow her camera as mine is almost in retirement.
Lisa and E

One More Sleep To Dress Up Day

One more day to Halloween.

This is one of my favourite holidays of the year. While any day that allows you to get free candy is great, it’s not just the sugary treats that I love about Halloween.

I love dressing up and watching people’s reactions as I walk by in what can only be described as some fabulous Halloween costumes.

I have been lucky in my 35 years of dressing up - I have never had to wear a store-bought costume. Instead, either my incredibly talented aunt or mom has sewn up some fabulous outfits.

I have been DarkWing Duck (winning a contest for this simple costume) Maleficent from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty (complete with her evil crow sidekick), Merlin from Disney’s Sword in the Stone, a scarecrow, a mime, a clown, a ghost and this year’s wonderful creation - a fairy. Thank you, A. RT. A. R also made my son’s firefly costume, complete with blinking butt.

Come back later to see us in our wonderful costumes.

Happy Halloween everyone.

Pass the cookies

I am afraid to look at the package.

I am afraid to check out just how many calories, how much fat and how much sugar I consumed when I polished off almost two boxes of mint Girl Guide cookies over the course of two days.

I am a sucker for chocolate. And for mint. And particularly for chocolate and mint together.

And while mint is supposed to help upset stomachs, mint Girl Guide cookies don’t, or at least not in the quantity that I just consumed, which is too bad really.

Everything Old is New Again

I am watching as my son plays with my childhood toys. We brought the Rubbermaid container of mainly Fisher-Price toys up to our new office, where my now one-year-old pulls out the A-Frame House, the Children’s Hospital and the Family School, and all of its pieces, not to mention the safari, the circus and more, and plays with them.

There are a lot of memories in those toys as my brother rediscovered during my son’s birthday party Saturday. He claims I stole those toys, robbing his daughter - and himself - of hours of enjoyment.

He is completely wrong. He got the first pick of our childhood toys and books, as he lives closer, and I got the choice of his rejects.
Bring on a new generation of Fisher-Price users.

Yummy Cinnamon

Do you know what the world needs?

More cinnamon.

That’s right. All would be right with the world if there was more of that wonderful spice in it.

When I make anything that calls for the reddish ingredient, I double what is asked. Pumpkin muffins, gingerbread, raisin spicy cookies, oatmeal chocolate chip, cinnamon-sugar toast. All of which leads me to raisin-cinnamon bread.

I had a new variety of this bread this morning. Again I was disappointed. When toasting, the wonderful scent of cinnamon is strong. When eating, the wonderful taste of cinnamon is sorely lacking.

The recent disappointment, Thomas cinnamon-raisin bread. Other disappointments: President’s Choice, No Name and Sun-Maid.

Is there a cinnamon-raisin bread out there that has a enough cinnamon?

Ideas, Ideas, Everywhere

I haven’t been sleeping well the past month.

To be completely truthful, I am dreading going back to work. I am lucky in that I really do love my job. It allows me to be as creative as I want. However, I finally got my dream job - being a mother - and I really want to do that full time or at least most of the time.

So while I am grateful to the women’s movement, which allows us to decide if we want to stay home or to have a career instead, I am also sickened that I have to go back, and have to go back already. (Where did that year go?)

Money. It’s the root of all evil.

However, not sleeping isn’t all bad.

I spend hours in the dark coming up with ideas for online features for work. I have the idea, I have the sources, I have the links, I have the graphics and I have the writers in mind

I am an idea machine.

And I have other ideas as well. Hopefully everything will work out.

Hairdresser Day

I love getting my hair cut. I love going to the hairdresser and telling her to go nuts, do whatever she would like with my hair - with rules.

1. I am a 35-year-old professional and as such, I require a haircut that fits the part.
2. I am a wash-and-go kind of girl. The haircut must be one that allows me to shower, brush and go.

It’s a rare hairdresser who will unleash her creativity with my hair, which is unfortunate as I like someone who confident enough to chop off my long hair and create a whole new look.

As I hate spending money on the hairdresser (and I really hate that I am forced to give a tip), my hair is quite long by the time I show up at a hairdresser’s.

And most hairdressers see that length and opt for a trim rather than a whole new look, in fear I am not really ready to see all my hair on the ground.

What I also enjoy about the hairdresser is having my hair washed and brushed. I love people playing with my hair; I find it so relaxing.

But for me, it always boils down to cost. I would rather spend $50 to $80 on almost anything else.

So for the second time in a year, I went to Sassoon Husband for my hair-cutting needs.

The price was right.

Happy First Birthday

Tomorrow is our son’s first birthday.

It doesn’t seem like a year ago when our son was laid against my face for the first time. It doesn’t seem like a year ago that I just sat there and watched this miracle boy sleep in my arms.

Other than those two weeks at Sick Kids, each of the 365 days that have passed has been an absolute joy.

People tell you that your life complete changes with a child. While shopping isn’t as easy as it once was, my life has only been enriched and if anything has changed it is that each day brings happiness and contentment.

Happy Birthday, my little one.

Two Thumbs Way Down

Hands down to the Ferber method of sleeping training.
It did far more harm than good.

Two thumbs down to Pampers.
Curse you Pampers Size 5, nighttime protection, which found me sitting in a puddle after one hour and then after three.

The Itch

My gums are itchy.

Yes, that’s right, my gums. I would like to pull out my teeth, take a steak knife and scratch back and forth with that knife over my gums, particularly beside my back molars.

I do not know why I get itchy gums. I have had it for years. The doctor suggested visiting the dentist, and the dentist looked at me like I had two heads.

So know one knows what causes it or what I should do to help it. You know, other than running my fingernails back and forth - and down - into my gums.

I figure it might be allergies, as itchiness is a symptom I get with seasonal allergies.

However, when ragweed is done for the year, what is the excuse then?

Introducing The Newest Hockey Player

My hockey–loving family should be pleased.

Before my son picked up a pen or crayon, he has mastered the art of the hockey stick. He can pick it up, hit the ball with it, twirl it like a baton, pass, steal your stick, high stick, hit and other good hockey traits.

Look out Maple Leafs.

Fun At Home

Today was supposed to be the first day my son tried daycare.

My daycare provider, LC, phoned me last night to inform me her five-year-old has come down with the flu and suggested my son stay home.

Yippee. (Yippee to my son staying home, not a child caught the flu.)

While I am sure my son will be OK with playing all day, Mommy wasn’t ready to lose her little guy, not even for four hours.

While I had made lots of plans to occupy the time, I really wasn’t looking forward to not being constantly around my little guy.

So while a small part of me was sad that I couldn’t develop pictures, the rest of me was excited that I could instead read, play with blocks, cuddle and enjoy my son as he explores his world.

Hand-me-Down Some Clothing

My sister-in-law showed up for Thanksgiving Sunday in a new-to-her top. She received it from her 75-year-old coworker, D, who has fabulous tastes, and shops at Le Chateau, The Gap and other trendy stores. Good for D. And great for LC, whose wardrobe always has new pieces in it.

My question is why can’t I have a D?

My stepdaughter would say it’s because I am a giant. (I am sure she means that lovingly but as she also called me tone deaf and told me I had a large rump I could be mistaken.)

AD is right somewhat, however. My legs are on the long side, but I do have a petit-sized top half.

Unfortunately, as blog readers will know, I don’t have a chest, which means no hand-me-downs, or even borrowing, from her, which is sad because there is no shortage of clothing to chose from.

The lack of a chest also means no hand-me-downs from my sister-in-law, my brother-in-law’s girlfriend or anyone else I know.

Maybe one day I will have my own D or maybe I will become so fashion savvy and have lots of money, that I will be D. You just never know.

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

May your turkey be so big that you are eating leftovers for the next week.

Lisa

Extended Maternity Leave

Our maternity leave should be longer.

While I appreciate I won’t get any sympathy from the likes of my mom, who had to quit her job when she was pregnant with my older brother; those from Holland who get only six weeks of maternity leave; or those from the States who get an equally short time to spend with their newborns, I still think Canadians should get a longer maternity leave.

Particularly now that doctors, healthcare workers and moms have returned to the idea that “breast is best.”

“They” say that you should breastfeed your baby until he is one year old. Wonderful. I agree.

However, if you are as unfortunate as I and you have to return to work, how can you feed on demand until your child is one when you have to go back when your child is one?

Should you quit breastfeeding cold turkey? Pump at work? Or, as I am attempting to do, wean prior to the first birthday?

My best friend JM, who has been doing daycare for years and who has two children of her own, said I don’t have to worry about weaning my son from his daily feeds prior to going back to work. She told me babies, or toddlers as he will be in a couple short weeks, are clever creatures.

He is not going to look to daycare provider, LC, for breast milk. And he won’t miss it because I am not there tempting him with it. She said I should be more concerned about weaning him at night, not for his sake but for my own.

While that did put my mind at ease, I still want to help my son learn to fall asleep on his own, without nursing. I want to make his transition to daycare as easy and stress-free as possible - for him anyway.

So if my maternity leave was say ... two years or even a year and a half, I could nurse until he was one and have him weaned before having to head back to work.

Disposable Troubles Part 2

The disposable diaper situation continues.

Before BM and JW responded to my Trouble With Disposables blog, I purchased Huggies active brand of diapers in Size 5. My son soaked through that variety in less than three hours. Those diapers went back.

As Huggies was sending some coupons in the mail, and I couldn’t find either the Supremes or the Overnights as was suggested by my followers, I decided to hold off purchasing any more diapers.

Instead, I have been putting two Size 3 Pampers overnights on my son. Sometimes he soaks through both, sometimes he doesn’t. And most time, his nursing/drinking habits are the same.

While waiting for the Huggies coupons to arrive, I received an email from the Pampers team letting me know the following:

“Babies can outgrow the absorbency of a diaper before they outgrow the fit. Your son may be ready to move into the next size diaper for added absorbency and protection. The weight ranges on our packages overlap and are only meant to be guidelines for fit. Other things you might consider are:

- Baby's age
- Eating and drinking habits
- Mobility
- Baby's build (for example, a slim child may fit in a Size 2, but may need the extra protection of a Size 3).

“If the leakage is just overnight, you may want to move up in size just for nighttime. With the right size, we're sure our diaper's absorbent padding, leg leak barriers, and snug fit will help keep your baby dry, day and night.”

However, neither Pampers nor Huggies recommended a type of diaper so I am hoping to try the overnight variety of Huggies, in Size 5, and if that doesn’t work, try Size 5overnights for Pampers. And if that doesn’t work, I may put a cloth diaper over top of the disposable and hope for the best.

The search continues.

Year Of Love

It’s been almost a year since our little guy has joined our family. A year of love.

My maternity leave is coming to a close and my heart is breaking at the thought of leaving my little guy, missing his first moments and watching his discoveries.

What fun it has been. From the moment he was laid near my face to now, sitting on my lap, trying to get the keyboard to do his own writing, my world has revolved around my baby boy blue.

I have less than a month to soak in every aspect of this wonderful little guy who is showing he is as strong willed as the rest of the family, who can do things by himself, but who isn’t afraid to ask for help and is always willing to provide wonderful hugs.

His laughter is contagious, his happiness shines in his eyes and even his ‘Oh-my-goodness-my-life-is-tough’-head-on-the-ground-I-am-so-upset pose is awfully cute.

So while I am grudgingly going back to work, I have to wonder how anything can be as important as motherhood. Or as exciting.

Safety First

Well, I asked for it and I finally got it.

The safety gates are up at my house, helping to prevent our son from falling down the two sets of stairs that are in our house.

Unfortunately, it does give our house that jail-like feeling, which is helped by our son, who grabs hold of the bars and shakes them.

It has also created a hazard for my already-accident-prone stepdaughter. Of course it doesn’t help that she is now trying to climb over the gates rather than opening and closing them.

The reason? She says she has a hard time getting them closed. I do understand. With my benign tremour, I, too, have a hard time closing the stupid things, however, I think it is more difficult to leap over the gates than to take the time to open and close them properly.

It must be hard for AD as well as I hear a lot of “Omphs” and “Ahhhhhs” as her short legs don’t carry her all the way over.

The safety latches have also been troublesome.

You hear a lot of cursing as we yank on the cupboard doors, expecting them to open the whole way only to catch on the latch and open an inch or two.

Oh yes, we are baby proofed, or as much as we can do in our house, and no one is happy.

Winter Is Coming

Brr ... it's cold out there.
Fall is officially - and weather-wise - here. Can winter be that far behind?

Re-learning the Alphabet

In the Pooh Adore.Ables Pooh Blocks book, complete with three wooden blocks, Winnie the Pooh asks readers, in this case my son, if he can count his blocks A, B, C just like Pooh does.

Well, no he can’t.

Because some genius in the manufacturing of the book put the blocks in the wrong order.

So when Pooh asks my son if he can stack his blocks in A, B, C, we can only stack the blocks in A, C, B. And when Piglet asks us to stack our blocks One, Two, Three, we can only stack them One, Three, Two. That is the same with shapes and the picture blocks.

Reading this book is frustrating now. Imagine what it will be like when my son is trying to figure out his A, B, Cs or One, Two, Threes.

Way to go Random House.

Trouble With Disposables

So much for 12 hours of leakage protection.

For my son, Pampers 12-hour disposable diapers keep him and his outfits dry only some of the time and then only a few hours.

This is my second foray into the world of disposable diapers buying and I haven’t had that much luck.

My first attempt was with Wal-Mart’s brand. I returned them after having to change my son twice in the night and leaving him wet the rest of the time.

I told the customer service person at Wal-Mart that you obviously get what you pay for when you buy disposables.

Unfortunately, Pampers hasn’t been that great either. While my sister-in-law swears by them and said she has only changed my niece’s sheets about 15 times, I haven’t been so lucky.

Sometimes my son can go all night in one diaper, other times he is soaked - diaper, clothing, sheets and me - in a couple of hours.

Thinking perhaps I was not putting the diapers on correctly, I had my cousin-in-law give me the disposable diaper rules: 1) Point my son’s (and these were the words of a nurse in Ottawa) “junk” down and 2) pull out the outer layer for further wetness protection.

Both are done.

I know my friend, JA, is having the same diaper issues with her son and she, too, hasn’t found a diaper that will protect her little guy during the night.

Perhaps diapers are geared toward girls or were not designed for the heavy wetter.

Suggestions anyone?

Deals, Deals, Everywhere Deals

Where has Once Upon A Child been all my child’s life?

I discovered this store for the first time when my mom, son and I went shopping for clothing for me last week. We went to Once Upon A Child first because my now-mobile son requires baby gates.

I didn’t find baby gates but I found a basement full of beautiful clothes with fabulous prices.

I purchased a couple of onsies, a beautiful pair of lined overalls, a pair of Robbeez and my best deal - an OshKosh snowsuit for $20. I will now be doing most of my shopping here.

PS- The Newmarket location had some beautiful Halloween costumes.

Fabulous News

Excellent news - our son is healthy.

Effective immediately, our little guy comes off his heart drugs. His recent holter (a device that monitors his heart rate for a 24-hour period) showed thousands of beats and only one irregular one.

A special thanks to Dr. Joel Kirsh and the entire Sick Kids team for saving our son’s life and making him the healthy almost one-year-old that he is.

They’re Back ...

With the warm weather returning, the lowly mosquito has made a comeback.

This new batch of creatures are small, but mighty.

These blood-sucking beasts have bit me more times this fall than they have all summer.

PS-The above cartoon is by one of my favourite artists, Gary Larson (http://www.thefarside.com/)

Fashion Misfit No More?

I may not have to shop at Thyme Maternity after all.

Last week, my son, my mom and I spent a day shopping. I purchased my first real bra, and found some great deals for my son at my new favourite children’s store - Once Upon a Child.

I then spent the remainder of the day looking for jeans and tops for my work wardrobe that currently has neither in it.

By about 3 p.m. I was frustrated.

I finally went into Reitmans’s to try something, anything on.

The problem is I do actually like clothing but what seems to work on the mannequin and the store’s posters, doesn’t seem to work on me. I look at it and think, ‘I can’t pull off this look; I don’t know how.’

I guess I think people will look at me and think ‘She’s trying too hard.’

So with that in mind, I took my mom, my son and I left the mall and drove to the Real Canadian Superstore where I had hoped to be as successful as I was at No Frill where I found pants - that fit - for $5 each. Unfortunately, I found nothing.

Since we were within walking distance to some of the big box stores, we decided to stop in at Mexx. I had been in the mall version of the same store and wasn’t expecting much.

But then, the mall version didn’t have Sara.

Big box Mexx may be my new favourite store.

Sara was friendly, helpful, knowledgeable and she took my fashion issues in stride. She found me items on sale, matched them and told me what would work - and what wouldn’t - with each piece.

I found jeans and three tops at Mexx and left feeling that I not only got a good deal, but that I may not be a fashion misfit any longer.

Sing A Song Or Two

I like singing to my son but unfortunately he usually only hears a line or two and a lot out-of-tune humming as I can’t remember the lyrics.
I found a great website for people like me. Check it out: http://bussongs.com

Welcome Fall

Fall did indeed come overnight.

Yesterday we were in the lake. This morning it is grey and the road is covered with fallen leaves. The vegetables, particularly the cucumbers and green onions, look sad and tired, and everything except the root vegetables are crying out to be picked.

I guess it’s time to put away the shorts and tank tops and pull out the pants and sweaters.

Gag Me With A Spoon

I bought my son Heinz multigrain with mango, pineapple and pear baby cereal. I usually buy Nestle as that is the brand my grocery store carries.

I will be going back to Nestle after this cereal is finished.

There are many descriptive words that would describe the colour and consistency of Heinz’s cereal. Appealing and appetizing would not work. Disgusting, gagging and revolting do.

Too Sensitive

I just finished reading The Two Little Girls In Blue by Mary Higgins Clark.

Since having our son, I realize I shouldn’t be reading these types of books. I can’t get the images that Clark created out of my mind. I keep replaying how it must have felt to get a call from the police saying something had happened and arriving home to discover my children gone.

While I have always been sensitive to the ills of the world, it seems I have less ability to handle it now that my own beautiful boy is here.

My husband and I watched the second Zorro movie the other night. I watched it pre-baby, but I must say I had a new perspective during this viewing. It made me physically sick when the bad guys discovered the baby alone, and what could have happened to the little guy if the mother lost the fight.

Perhaps it’s time for me to take a break from books and movies that involve children getting injured.

And it’s certainly time for me to enjoy my own little one. Good night.

Take That Labour Day

I haven’t been in school for more than a decade but Labour Day weekend still seems like summer’s last hurrah.

I still get that feeling that summer disappears the moment night closes over on Labour Day, and when I wake up that Tuesday morning fall will have arrived.

To shake off the notion that summer is over, my husband, son and I floated out on the lake on our air mattress, soaked in the sun’s still-strong rays and enjoyed a lengthy swim.

Labour Day is here and gone, but the Day family is still enjoying summer.

Shoe Shopping Time?

I hate shoes.

There. I said it.

I find shoe shopping a different kind of stress. There is a lot of pressure in shoe shopping. After trying on dozens of pairs, each of which fit differently, I end up buying the ones I think are the most comfortable. The pressure comes when you bring them home, wear them outside once and realize they aren’t as comfortable as they were when you were in the store.

In addition, I am picky when it comes to shoes.

I don’t like anything with a heel; I don’t like chunky shoes; I don’t like draw-attention-to-myself shoes; I don’t like bright-coloured shoes.

I do like shoes that are versatile. In my late teens and early 20s, my Docs were my versatile shoes. I wore them with dresses, I wore them with jeans, I wore them with work clothing.

As I no longer in my teens, Docs cannot be a versatile shoe, however, I still hope to one day own shoes that are not only nice to look at, are comfortable, reasonably priced and have the ability to be worn with both jeans and semi-dressy clothing.

Of course the last time I went shoe shopping with friend MM, I spent the afternoon throwing up.

Coincidence? I don’t think so

Shopping Heartaches

I understand clothing is important. I appreciate the fact that a nice-dressed person may have an advantage.

But that doesn’t stop the fact I hate clothes shopping. And I hate it because when I go, I am frustrated, angry, broke, disappointed and left wondering who clothing manufacturers make clothing for.

Because it isn’t me. And it likely isn’t you either.

I will admit it is getting a little easier to purchase clothing, particularly pants, for me.

In the past, my Mom and Dad would bring a tape measure to ensure the pants would have the required 34-inch inseam. And often, being tall meant being fat, and properly fitting clothing was next to impossible to find.

I still struggle to find pants that are long enough and it’s a rare day when I can find pants that are long enough and are on sale.

I usually have to pay extra, perhaps for the length.

Top shopping is a little easier as I have a petit top half, however, as noted in this blog, I don’t have a chest, so many of the shirts are less than flattering as I have nothing to fill it with. And as I don’t want the world to see what I don’t have, many tops cannot be purchased.

I was really worried about finding clothes that fit when I was pregnant.
And then I discovered Thyme Maternity.

After leaving that store, I understood why most women like shopping.
It was fun. Things fit; were reasonably priced; and there was no shortage of items I wanted to take home. In addition, the sales staff was fun, helpful and knowledgeable.

I told them I was coming back for all my regular-clothing needs. I can simply roll down the belly or eat more chocolate.

Show of Respect

Our neighbours R&BJ are members of a hunt camp that is approaching 100 years old.

BJ was telling us there is a picture hanging on the wall of the bunker of some of the original members on the train on the way to the hunt camp. The members were dressed in suits and fedoras.

I like the fact that people used to dress up to go away; to visit neighbours; to attend the theatre; and otherwise make an appearance.

While I like the fact that I don’t have to be so formal when visiting a friend’s house (see Diana visiting Anne’s house in Anne of Green Gables), the idea of dressing up to attend the theatre or to visit someone special is nice. It shows respect. Perhaps it's time to bring back dressing up.

Going With The Flow

For the first time in 10 months our son is sick - OK, outside of the heart thing.

Our son has an ear infection, which has caused a cold complete with sneezing and a cough that has deepened and created a raspy voice.

Despite my best intentions to keep our son drug-free, he is heart medication, amoxicillin, Tempra and vitamin D.

It goes to show you when you have kids, you have to go with the flow.

Hello

Hello allergies.
Hello runny nose.
Hello itchy throat.
Hello itchy eyes.
Hello itchy nose.
Hello itchy gums.
Hello reminder that summer is over, that fall is here and winter is not that far behind.

Good to Have Dreams

People often ask us if we plan to stay at our house by the lake.

Our answer is always the same: If we find the house/property of our dreams we will leave our current location of our dreams.
The property of our dreams is a hobby farm. I have the picture of the property in my mind.

It’s a Victorian farmhouse that you get to by cruising down a maple-and-oak-lined driveway.

When you get to the house, there is lots of open space with shaded spots. There are lilac bushes, more maples and an English-country garden or two.

The yard is lined by the old-style post fence.

Walking further along the property, it turns to meadow, which has a stream cutting through it, then a forested area. Of course there are areas for the animals, and we would have a melange of them - chickens, sheep, cows, goats, pigs, cats, dogs. There may be a horse, but it would have to be my brother’s as I am not a horse fan.

We would also have crops and a good-sized vegetable garden to feed ourselves and sell the extras. I also see maple syrup and a Christmas tree farm.

As I don’t want to live too far away from my family, this dream may have to stay just that unless we strike it rich or some rich relative we don’t know about dies and leaves us her fortune.

Good to Have Dreams

People often ask us if we plan to stay at our house by the lake.

Our answer is always the same: If we find the house/property of our dreams we will leave our current location of our dreams.
The property of our dreams is a hobby farm. I have the picture of the property in my mind.

It’s a Victorian farmhouse that you get to by cruising down a maple-and-oak-lined driveway.

When you get to the house, there is lots of open space with shaded spots. There are lilac bushes, more maples and an English-country garden or two.

The yard is lined by the old-style post fence.

Walking further along the property, it turns to meadow, which has a stream cutting through it, then a forested area. Of course there are areas for the animals, and we would have a melange of them - chickens, sheep, cows, goats, pigs, cats, dogs. There may be a horse, but it would have to be my brother’s as I am not a horse fan.

We would also have crops and a good-sized vegetable garden to feed ourselves and sell the extras. I also see maple syrup and a Christmas tree farm.

As I don’t want to live too far away from my family, this dream may have to stay just that unless we strike it rich or some rich relative we don’t know about dies and leaves us her fortune.

What Is It?

My neighbour has this beautiful yellow flower in his garden. It looks like a yellow Queen Anne’s lace.

The tall plan has been in bloom for the entire month of August and it looks like it isn’t dying any time soon.

Any idea what it is?

Still Waiting

My stepdaughter is still waiting to hear if she has been accepted to York University’s Glendon College.

School starts in September.

For some reason, perhaps because so many students were ticked off at York U. due to last year’s strike, the university extended its application deadline to Aug. 14 for its September admission.

As there is just more than a week until school is to start, shouldn’t York U. be letting people know if they have gotten into the university?

I think it’s too late for AD for September. Even if she hears this week that she has gotten in, the application deadline for residence was July 31, and she couldn’t apply for that or for financial aid until she had confirmation that she accepted.

So the question remains why did York U. extend its application deadline? Were they being nice to those who, for whatever reason, missed the original deadline or was it because so many York students left in disgust because of the lengthy strike that the university requires more money?

Missing Nut

At a recent Day family function, I told our cousin the kind of peanut butter she buys is inferior to the kind I buy.

Skippy peanut butter is more creamy than Kraft, which is dry and sticks to your mouth. Having said that, I did enjoy Kraft on toast both mornings we stayed at our cousins’ home.

ND asked me what kind of peanut butter we grew up on and I confessed it was indeed Skippy that we consumed as children.

Not only did we enjoy the taste of Skippy, we always loved the fact that it was “the only one with the peanut on top.”

We were not allowed to open the new peanut butter jar until the old one was finished. As kids, we always planned our peanut butter eating so we could be the one to open the new jar and enjoy the whole peanut that was waiting for you when you cracked the seal.

There was nothing worse than finishing the old jar, opening the lid of the new jar and discovering that one of your siblings didn’t play by the rules and had already eaten the peanut.

When I moved in with my now-husband, I grudgingly offered to share the peanut. But then something happened.

The “one with the peanut on top” became the one with no peanut on top.

Skippy, where did the peanut go?

Right Leaning

I lean to the right.

For whatever reason, my son refuses to nurse on the left side. He has been this way since he was a baby.

When trying to get him to nurse on the left side, he either throws his head back and refuses to latch or will drink for a couple of minutes before returning to the right side.

As such, my right breast, in comparison, is giant, while my left side is basically non-existent.

So if you see me leaning toward the right, you’ll know why.

Bringing Cheap To A Whole New Level

My son has been on heart medication since he was airlifted to Sick Kids hospital in Toronto when he was one-month-old.

The medication is an old man’s drug but instead of getting an old-man dosage of 200 milligrams, my son gets 20 mg once a day. As the medication is created for my son, only one hospital has the capsule maker to create it - the Shoppers Drug Mart at Sick Kids itself.

Each month, a week before I run out of my son’s medication, I call Shoppers to ask them to make my medication, giving them three days notice. (The medication has an expiry date so I can’t order too far in advance. Shoppers’ pharmacists require three days to get the medication ready for some reason.)

My brother-in-law’s girlfriend and now my husband have been going downtown since December to pick up my son’s medication, with our drug company covering all but $10 of the $53 bill.

So here is where I am annoyed.

My son obviously can’t swallow an adult-sized capsule. I have to break it open, mix it with sterilized water and draw it up into a syringe. My son sucks it out from there.

Shoppers charges us for the syringes.

I paid with credit card for the first few months so I didn’t notice the charge. My husband pays cash and he told me the drug store charges us 15 cents for each syringe, with each syringe lasting a few months.

Are you kidding me? Is Shoppers so cheap it can’t provide syringes for free? The drug store is the only one that can make the medication. We are forced to go to Shoppers. We are forced to work on their schedule and we are forced to drive more than a hour to get it. And they can’t provide a 15-cent syringe for free.

Pathetic really.

Just Wondering ...

I promise this will be the last time I write about grey hair for a little while but I was just wondering why when I shower and clumps of hair fall out, it is the brown ones that I stick to the wall, not the grey ones.

It seems a shame that I am losing the healthy, correct-colour hair but the grey/white/silver ones stay and multiply.

On another hair note, I was talking to my sister-in-law last night, while pulling out grey hair, and I found several clumps of grey and several ones that were a foot long.

Yikes.

Colour Any One?

With the amount of grey in my head I think there is only one choice - I must dye it before returning to work.

And that, quite frankly, sucks.

I am not THAT type of woman. I don’t spend hours applying makeup. I don’t wear makeup. I don’t get up early so I can do my hair. My type of haircut is one that allows me to get up, shower, comb and leave. I don’t put my clothes out the night before because I hate shopping so I actually have very little to choose from.
So the idea of dying my hair, and spending that kind of money, makes me sick.

As I see it, I have two choices in the hair dying solution: colour-in-a-box and highlights at a hair dresser.

Never venturing down a hair-colour aisle, I do admit most of this information comes secondhand, but I have been told that colour-in-a-box requires you to do it by yourself (yikes!), washes out quite quickly, exposing the very grey I am trying to hide, and really isn’t that cheap. Highlights, while expensive, last at least six months and allows me to keep - and highlight - the natural colours in my hair. And I don’t have to attempt it on my own.

Hmm.

Perhaps I do have one other choice. Go grey.

Greying Matters

My husband was pushing our son and I on the air mattress on the lake when he noticed something that I discovered months ago - grey has infiltrated my hair.

Several years ago, my stepdaughter decided to pull out my grey hairs and she yanked enough that she could have made a sweater for a gerbil or a small rat.

Now, if she had the time, she could pull out enough grey hairs to make a sweater for a small dog.

My mom kindly pointed out that she didn’t go grey until she was in her 40s. My husband said it is unlikely that I would be IDed at the casino anymore. In fact, he did mention that I may be able to get the seniors discount.

Bring it on.

We Are Off to See the Days ....

We are off to see my husband’s family, who lives outside of Napanee.

I am quite excited about our upcoming road trip except I am dreading the car ride. Our baby is not a car child. I figure it could be one, or more, of several reasons:

1. Payback
I have been told numerous times that I was a terrible car baby myself. I once screamed from my grandfather’s cottage in Bracebridge to my parents’ house, at least a three-hour ride. My dad had to sing Rock a Bye Baby over and over to settle me.
Singing helps for a bit but then it doesn’t, and my husband says my voice certainly doesn’t help him. Perhaps I am a tad tone deaf.

2. Car sickness
My mom now thinks it was likely car sickness that had me screaming for hours in the car, an affliction I still suffer. As I got older, the only thing that helped was listening to music with headphones, sitting in the front seat and the ultimate car-sickness cure - driving. As our son won’t taking the wheel for about 16 years, we’ll have to find another solution.

3. Loneliness or boredom
Our son is used to having someone’s attention or at least the ability to move around for his own entertainment. Despite how comfortable the car seat looks to me, perhaps it’s the feeling of being trapped he doesn’t like or ...

4. Instant gratification
... Or perhaps he is not used getting what he wants when he wants it.
I would imagine his hate of the car could be any of these things or perhaps he is hungry, wet, cold, hot, scared, confused, tired, not tired, blinded by the sun, uncomfortable or any other thing a baby feels and can’t tell us.

Wish us luck.

These Are The People In Your Neighbourhood

If you are looking for a way to meet your neighbours, I suggest simply getting pregnant, taking your year of maternity leave and walking up and down the street with your baby on a daily basis.

I have met more of my neighbours in the nine short months my son has been around than I did in the eight previous years.

While I have always said hello to my neighbours, most of whom live in the city and only come up on weekends, holidays and summer vacation, when you are pushing a baby stroller, people will come right up to you and stop and chat.

It has been wonderful.

I have met so many interesting people including one woman who has been coming to this neighbourhood since she was a girl in the 1940s. PG has three daughters and in the wonderful small world that we live in, I actually worked with one of her girls. I had never met L, who worked at my parent company, but we chatted on the phone a fair bit, and I finally got to meet her this summer when she popped to say hello.

So to recap: Baby equals great opportunities to meet new people.

Missing Our Sylvester

We put our cat, Sylvester, down yesterday. He had congenital heart failure.

Being a cat, Sylvester hid his pain and suffering for what was likely months, which makes me feel just dreadful. The poor guy’s lungs were filled with fluid so he felt like he was drowning.

At around 3 p.m. yesterday, we noticed Sylvester’s breathing was funny and by 6 p.m., he was no longer with us.

While I feel badly that we didn’t have a lot of time cuddling, I think he had a good last day. The night before he had steak for dinner and he spent part of the night cuddling under the covers with me, his chin tucked under mine, purring away. In the morning, my son and I scratched his ears and pet him for a while before our day began. He had a lick of peanut butter and a lick of Cheese Whiz for a snack after his breakfast of soft and hard food. Our son leaped over my legs to get at Sylvester, giving him a big sloppy kiss and a couple of pets, along with some yanking.


Unfortunately, I did sit on Sylvester in order to get his flea medication on, but he did get four treats and then spent some time outside before being brought in. We had some more petting time before he was forced into the car, his least favourite place, before being brought to the vet.


I really miss him today but feel most badly that our son will not grow up as planned with his furry brother, who was like a dog, child and cat to us.