Drama, drama, drama.

High school. I don't miss it one bit. Let me give you a bit of a background story to go on here. I grew up in a very affluent community amongst very affluent people. Though my family was not barely scraping by, we weren't up there with those living in McMansions. The city I grew up in has a really bad reputation for producing spoiled, snotty children - particularly girls, which was unfortunate for me. I have never gotten along with those of the female persuasion as well as males. My theory behind this: I don't participate in the drama that comes along with girl-to-girl friendships. I don't do grudges, catfights, back-stabbing, etc. Life is way too short to get involved with that kind of bullshit, but somehow I seem to end up dealing with it anyways. I think it's just part of being a girl. If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm apparently done writing about the things I miss about being a kid. Here's a new one - something I don't miss.

1. Save the drama, mama.

I recently encountered a situation that I can only describe as insanely juvenile and immature, and I let myself get wound up enough (my mistake, because it wasn't worth the energy) that I thought it would be a good idea to blog about it. This is the second blog. The first one got deleted because there were too many - ahem - expletives, and I realized I had stooped down a level on my own maturity scale. My two best friends growing up were guys. S & J have been a huge part of my life ever since we were 11 and decided that we were going to be inseparable. I was convinced that I would probably marry one or the other. Funny as it is now, they both ended up in my wedding party, but as my "bridesmen" (don't worry, they didn't wear dresses - just pink ties). I have a couple of close girlfriends, and I keep it that way for a reason. I am a very low-maintenance friend. I don't need my friends to call me daily with updates, nor do I need to hang out with them every day. I don't get offended if they are busy and we don't see each other for two or three months, and I expect that they would say the same thing about their relationships with me. Most girls, unfortunately, do not function in that manner.

So why did I expect that it should be any different with motherhood? I don't know, maybe it is because we are all supposed to be living the way we want to project upon our impressionable little ones. Or maybe it's because I thought (mistakenly) that once women have children, they grow up a little bit. I'm not saying I never have a lapse in judgment or maturity, but I definitely watch myself more now that I've had Sprout. I was informed recently that someone I do not even really know decided that I was worthy enough to take up a bunch of their gossip time. What did they talk about, you ask? Apparently, subjects that were of great importance included:

1. How I am way too overprotective with my daughter

- This one made me laugh, because I know I am overprotective, but isn't that the very definition of being a mother? Since I've had Sprout, the most common comment on my parenting (and my husband's) has been that we are extremely relaxed and laid back with her. I take pride in that, and so does the husband. When Sprout was born, it was like a switch went off and I immediately decided we would just roll with whatever she brought with her for baggage, be it colic, temper tantrums, reflux, or anything health-related. That attitude has helped shape Sprout into a very well-adjusted child. She is happy 99.9% of the time, and doesn't take long to warm up to new people in her life. Not to say that her environment is the only thing that has guided her development, but I have seen firsthand how a toxic or volatile home environment can negatively affect a child. Kids are supposed to be kids - babies are supposed to be babies. There are a few parents that I know that think it's better to treat your child like an adult their whole life. No nurturing, fend-for-yourself parenting. To them I say...good luck with that. I know a few kids who were brought up that way, and they have not fared well. School is an issue because they don't know how to interact with other children. They don't know how to play in both solo and group environments, and they don't know how to converse with anyone other than adults. Unfortunately, if those same types of children are exposed at an early age to family violence, it complicates their situation further. They think that violence is an appropriate way to solve conflict. They aren't taught that calm communication is necessary, and in most cases, more effective. So if I cuddle and rock my daughter too much, and treat her like a baby (God forbid), and don't fight and break down doors in front of her, I guess that means I'm overprotective.

2. I am a "know-it-all" mother who does nothing but talk about her child.

- Again, I had to laugh. I definitely talk about Sprout a lot. I ask again though, isn't that a normal part of being a mother? I also talk a lot about subjects that I have researched. I definitely don't know it all, but I do know about the things that I choose to write about/talk about. And if I don't know, I ask questions. Let me put it this way - if I had unlimited access to university classes, I'd probably never stop going to school. I love to learn, and I always seem to retain the weirdest tidbits of information. Play a game of Trivial Pursuit or Jeopardy with me - you'll see what I mean. I don't always know the obvious answers, but I can tell you who assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary and his wife Sophie in 1914 (it was Gavrillo Princip, and he was with a Bosnian-Serb group called the Black Hand). Weird, right? Why do I remember that? Because my grade 10 Social teacher drilled it into my head when he described the assassination as "he busted a cap up in the Archduke's ass". So it stuck. If I had a huge ego or something, I'd probably respond to these allegations of me being a "know-it-all" with...why yes, I DO know it all. But I don't, and I don't. Believe me, if you are an expert on a subject I am interested in, I'll sit and soak up as much knowledge from you as I can. I love to learn, and maybe that's why I talk about the things that I do know about so much - I also love to teach and share knowledge with others. I'm not an expert on everything, nor am I always right. I am open to the opinions of others, even if they differ from my own. Teach me what you know, and I will always be appreciative.

I really hope that Sprout doesn't have to deal with all of the lady-drama that seems to follow us women around, as hard as I try to avoid it. I have really changed my outlook on my own friends, and the type of people I want her to be exposed to as she grows up. I make a great effort to surround myself with others whose parenting styles I agree with, and whose friendships are easily maintained. Again, if that's being overprotective, I guess I'm proud of it. I don't want to end up screwing with my daughter's life because of my own selfishness and unwillingness to grow up, change, and cut out "toxic" friendships. I know she'll eventually encounter other girls and women that eat up the drama, and love creating it between others and in their own lives, and I hope that my guidance will steer her clear of those types of people. Meanwhile, I think I'll go rock my baby to sleep, and offer up a free lecture to her on the art of staying away from the "mean girls" (haha).

Save the drama for the theatre, baby.

xoxoxo

Mommy

Wow, I have a super short attention span. As much as I'd love to keep writing about things that I loved as a child, and my hopes and dreams for some of those same things for Sprout, I am getting reeeeeally bored of writing about it and thinking of new ideas. Hmmm. But maybe one more.

The weather keeps getting nicer and nicer, but I'm sure that my wishes for an early and long summer will be wiped out by a late winter storm. Happens every year, I swear, although this year we are actually getting some sort of spring season which is strange for Alberta. I'm sitting on my deck in a lawn chair in a pair of board shorts and a tank top, typing away with my $10 sunglasses on, and I'm actually getting HOT. So here's a flashback I had.

3. Having Summer OFF.

Boy, do I miss having two months to just sit around in the sun, rollerblade to get slurpees, play in the sand, go to the lake, and run through the sprinkler or slip n' slide. I am not a winter person. That may be the biggest understatement I've ever made. I don't think I was born in the right country, let alone the right province or city. My whole body literally shudders when I picture the snow and blustery -35 C (with or without the windchill) weather that we get subjected to every year. Global warming my ass. I'll admit, there have been some odd changes in our weather patterns, and this year was especially mild (so far), but even still...I could live somewhere that didn't really have winter. Not like the ones we have here, at least. It was +14 C the day I had Sprout in mid-November, which was incredibly strange. I think the whole world is just happy that she's around, so we're getting a break with the weather for her first year. That way, she can actually have at least one summer like the ones I remember growing up.

Maybe it's just me, but I remember it being hot and sunny most of the summer. I always ended up tanned dark enough to switch races (not anymore, I wear SPF 30 on my face every day - even in winter - and on my body most summer days...I don't want to be a wrinkled old raisin). I get that weird nostalgic feeling at the beginning of every summer when school lets out and there are dozens of kids running around the parks and riding their bikes down the sidewalks. Am I the only one who gets those strange, pit-of-the-stomach-tightening feelings? They remind me to slow down and take life in.

I am so excited for this summer with Sprout. We already had a "deck day" where I fed her the first outdoor bottle of her life, and we took some silly pictures with her new hat and sunglasses on. I can't wait to watch her discover the incredible world that lies just beyond her reach right now. There were other moms that were adamant that it was much better to have a baby in the spring or summer as opposed to the winter, so that you didn't have to go through a hot summer whilst pregnant. I completely feel the opposite. I loved being pregnant in the summer! I hit my second trimester in June, and it was awesome! I had energy, didn't feel sick (didn't really feel sick before that, but...), and I could wear whatever I wanted without worrying about how I looked - I was ballooning! When Sprout was born, people warned me about the increased risk of post-partum depression because of the winter season and lack of vitamin D. I don't think it would have been any better if she was born in the spring or summer. I didn't really want to venture out much for the first 2 months anyways, and after that, it wasn't a big deal to bundle up a little tiny one and take her out. And now...well, we've already changed out her car seat for a bigger one, which would have been a worse adjustment in the winter - having to carry her out all bundled up - and she's getting to the age where she's fascinated by everything, which is so awesome! We have so much fun being outside. I can show her the grass, the trees, the sun, the clouds, the sky. And she'll learn to crawl (hopefully) this summer, so I can spend less time chasing her inside the house, and more time letting her boogie around on a blanket in the park. I really can't imagine it being better the other way around - we'd be stuck in the house all winter - ew!

Speaking of Sprout, though, I'm being beckoned, and we're due for a "deck bottle". Ahhh....sunshine is amazing.

Get your shades on, baby.

xoxoxo

Mommy

Mud pies. Mmmm....

Back to my list of things I miss about being a kid.

#2 is....(drumroll, please)...

BEING MESSY!

I miss being able to be silly and splash in mud puddles, roll around and get soaked in the snow, finger paint with chocolate pudding, dig in the sand until it was caked in my ears, and not get looked at like I was crazy...because I was five. Wasn't that the best though? Going outside (or inside...) and making a gigantor mess, and then getting plunked in the bathtub (where I would spend at least a half hour playing with bubbles and toys) and being so exhausted from my mess-making that I'd sleep for 10 hours.

I can't wait for those days with Sprout. It's funny, she has already realized that it's kind of fun to make a mess. This past week, her normally relaxed bath time rituals turned into a spastic splashing session that made her look like she was having a seizure. Not contented, happy splashing...more like...epileptic fit splashing, with a look of the deepest concentration painted across her brows. I laughed so hard the first time, I think I scared the pants off her (not literally, I realize she didn't have pants on in the tub). She turned and looked at me with a quizzical one-brow lift - one of her many talents - and then proceeded to get back to the task at hand. So now I end up soaking wet after bathing her, which I have to admit...is a bundle of fun! I used to love bath time too, so I understand. And to see her finally realize that the splashing in the tub can be created by her own movements was incredible. They learn so much, so fast.

The other mess-making trick she has caught onto is blowing spit bubbles when she's got a mouth full of cereal. Not as fun as bath time splashing. With the cereal, I end up with little flecks of mush speckling my face, clothes, hair, and chair. And Sprout? Thinks it is the most hilarious thing. I made the mistake of laughing the first time, and now she does it purely for the reaction, even though I have tried to change it to a negative "No, don't do that," kind of tone. What can you do? Kids and babies are supposed to make messes. It's a fact of life. They'll play with their food, colour on their faces, roll around in the mud, get grass stains on their knees, and have such fun doing it all. I can't wait to see what Sprout figures out next!

Prepare for a wet facecloth attack, Sprout...

xoxoxo

Mommy

All I want are some Punkys, Willy Wonka...

I've had a lot of moments lately where I've felt very nostalgic, specifically in reference to moments from my childhood. I find myself gazing at Sprout, and thinking about all the wonderful (and awful) things that growing up has to offer. Of course, it will be very different for her than it was for me. The world is a crazier place now than it ever was...or maybe it's just that we're more aware of it. Because I am a big fan of lists, I thought I would share some of the things that I miss the most about being a kid, in the hopes that my daughter might one day share some of my interests. Don't worry about the length though. This is going to be a series of blogs on the same topic. I have too much to write, and not enough time before bed.

1. Candy.

I ate a lot of candy when I was a kid, and it didn't seem to go anywhere but to my head (invariably followed by major sugar crashes). Some of my favourite memories involve candy/treats. I had a crazy and wonderful uncle who told us some insane stories when we were little, one of which involved a villain - Gargaganga - and a hero - Mr. Gargle - both of whom lived in and amongst my grandmother's basement**. The second step from the top of the basement staircase was a no-tread zone, due to the fact that any pressure whatsoever would trigger a trap door that would slide you deep down into Gargaganga's lair. We didn't know what would befall us if we ever became captives in said lair, but we weren't willing to take any chances. Mr. Gargle, on the other hand, could be hailed from Candyland via the hall linen closet by calling "Oh Mister Mister Gargle!", but only (strangely enough) when our Uncle M. was taking a nap in the spare bedroom. We later discovered that the spare room closet connected through to the hall closet, leaving enough space for a mysterious hand to poke through and feed us rainbow Chips Ahoy cookies ("Don't touch the livestock, Kevin! Heeheehee...oops!" Loved that commercial.). I tell people this story, and they look at me like I'm nuts, but we loved it. Uncle M. is the reason I am as creative as I am. Who else would have told me about the People in the Pipes, and that the Lost City of Atlantis was at the bottom of Dilberry Lake (a story which prompted me to wear a lifejacket whilst swimming in the drop-off until I was 10)?

**Side note: After my parents were divorced, we lived with my Grandma and Grandpa in their basement (converted into a suite) until I was 10. It was awesome - some of my best memories are from that house.

Okay, enough sidetracking. Umm....right, candy. When my sister and I were old enough to ride our bikes unattended, we rode around all over St. A. In particular, we rode the two blocks over to the Red Rooster convenience store on the corner of Hebert Road across from the old Safeway. The family that owned it always knew who we were, and said hello with watchful eyes that made us feel completely safe. That's one of the other things I miss...feeling like nothing could ever happen to me to rattle my world hard enough that I wouldn't recover. The worst thing that can happen to a 6 or 7 year-old little girl, in her mind, is being teased by a boy, or fighting with her sister and getting grounded. Or so it was with my own mind at that age. My favourite things to buy from Red Rooster were:

1. 25 cent sour soothers (the BIG ones)

2. Penny sours (literally a penny each)

3. Nik-l-nips (those wax bottles with sugary liquid inside) - we used to chew the wax afterwards like a piece of gum.

4. Chocolate & bubble gum cigarettes - I loved putting a "cigarette" in my mouth and blowing out. All the candy powder from the outside coating of both the bubble gum and chocolate would puff out around the end of the treat, enhancing its appeal.

5. Lotsa Fizz - these were/are the ones that came in a giant rope, and had the sour fizzy powder at the centre of the little hard candy.

6. Tangy Taffy - still love it! Cherry with cherry red sprinkles. Mmmm.

7. Slurpees with soft serve on top - in Lethbridge, we called them Snow Bobs, but when we were growing up, they didn't have a name. They were just amazing. Yum. Dr. Pepper, in fact, was and still is my favourite. Though the original store is no longer at that location, the second Red Rooster (became Reder) is still going strong and still serves those wondrous treats.

8. Nerds. Who doesn't love Nerds?

9. Chalk candy. And yes, I actually like chalk candy. It wasn't just because it was really cool to eat it.

10. Bonkers (chewy, Starburst-esque squares with darker coloured centres - see photo)

11. Sodalicious fruit snacks ("Feeling flat?" Another much loved commercial.)

12. PUNKYS!!!!!!! (See photo) - Anyone who remembers these gets a bonus point today for reading my blog. Punkys were a Wonka candy (like Nerds, etc) that came out in the 80's/90's. So cool. The boxes had pictures of little punk oval characters with sunglasses and cool day-glo-coloured mohawks. They were freaking awesome.

I could go on and on and on. The point is, I wish I could eat as much candy without consequence as I did when I was a kid. Just thinking about that bike ride to the store gives me that weird, pit-of-your-stomach tightening nostalgia. I'm not going to stuff Sprout full of treats, but I will allow her to create some of the food-memories that I hold so dearly. I will, as the cliche states, let her be a kid. I will be dreaming of sweet snacks while I slumber tonight, Sprout. What will you dream of?

xoxoxo

Mommy

The Road to Hell...

Ah, road trips. Before Sprout came along, I used to love packing myself and husband in the car (usually sans dog) and going for long drives. Though we were almost always heading to Southern Alberta to visit family, occasionally we drove to Canmore (my favourite), Jasper, and the Provost area. Even as a child, I loved traveling - no matter how short the distance! My sister, however, made trips as "daunting" as going across Edmonton a little more harrowing. Motion sickness. Ugh. Once, we were coming back from the Space & Science Centre (I have no idea what it's called now, since the name has changed at least twice) after viewing a laser light show, and she proceeded to yak all over the floor of the backseat of my dad's car. I sat with my right ear pressed firmly against the window and my left hand jammed so hard into my other ear that I thought my head might pop. And then there was the time we flew in a little 4-person Cessna to Moose Jaw to visit my stepdad's family when I was about 8. Barfing ensued again, but into a big green garbage bag. That would have been fine, had it been completely sealed. As it was, I ended up with a big slime of Sprite and Twizzler all down the side of my brand new Levis jean jacket. Needless to say, I was NOT impressed.

So I've had my fair share of gross-out experiences, and I've had some amazing trips in the past. Let me share my wonderful expedition that started out on April Fools Day.

I woke up on Thursday morning after having a minor sore throat for a few days, and felt like I had gotten flung against a brick wall, dragged by a semi-truck, and then had someone attack my throat with a cheese grater. "Even the teeny little hairs on my toes hurt," I exclaimed to my unsympathetic husband, who was also feeling worse for wear. Sprout seemed to be a little off as well, so we decided that we'd wait until Friday to leave for the Easter weekend. Not a big deal, but then my husband proceeded to whine about missing his family, and I felt awful about the prospect of not going. Guilt trip accomplished, dear man. I sucked it up (snot, that is), got myself and the rest of the family (dog included, unfortunately) packed, and we left that afternoon.

**Side note: I cannot take cold medication. Most use a decongestant called Pseudoephedrine, which makes me absolutely wired. Worse than caffeine. I'm also not supposed to take cold medication because it interferes with my thyroid medication and function. On top of it all, decongestants decrease milk production by up to 75%, which I really can't afford to do at this point. I have a lot of milk saved up, but not enough for that kind of downfall. I could take Halls, and regular Tylenol/Advil. When you're hacking up a lung? Not really enough.

The drive down was hilarious. Sprout was really good, but only slept about 2 hours out of the entire 5 hour drive, which meant I had to sit in the back seat and entertain her the rest of the time. Here's my list of what I accomplished during the drive down:

1. Change poopy diaper on lap in back seat of a Sunfire. Ask me how fun THAT is with a 16 pound child trying to roll around.

**Side note: Dog was barfing while I was changing Sprout. Yes, we have a dog that gets carsick. It's disgusting. Once, husband had to "catch" the puke in his hand because I couldn't pull over fast enough. I laughed (he was not amused) while he exclaimed "PulloverpulloverpulloverpullOVER!!!!" This time, like every other time after that fated day, we had a bucket in the car. Dog does not like puking in the bucket. It freaks her out, so husband has to hold her head while she yaks. Seriously. She. Is. A. DOG.

2. Pump. This would be fine if we weren't on the highway, where every perverted trucker tries to leer into your car from up above. Catch a view of my National Geographic pumping nipples while you can, boys. While you're at it, check out the finger I'm holding up.

3. Entertain Sprout. Normally, I love playing with my baby. I'm a sucker for silly songs and making crazy faces just to hear her little giggles and squeals. Trying to do that in a backseat with your head basically in the carseat bucket? Ugh. I got my first (and hopefully last) tastes of what motion sickness is like this weekend.

4. REST. Last night (Monday) was the first night in 4 nights that I actually got a little sleep. It was also the first night in 4 nights that Sprout slept her usual 8.5 hour stretch. More about that later.

The drive there wasn't too bad, honestly. If I wasn't feeling so crummy, it might have actually been fun. Here's the thing though - I felt like shit. I haven't had a cold/flu/whatever the hell this thing was since high school. Fever, chills, nausea, headache, stuffy nose, sneezing, coughing, sore throat (complete with blisters), chest congestion, and complete laryngitis for 3 days. I was in no shape to be traveling, let alone taking care of a not-feeling-so-hot-herself baby anywhere but home. I feel so bad now, because I know the trip was the reason she was so out of sorts over the weekend. Now we're just trying to reset her poor little system. If my husband had any common sense whatsoever, we just would have stayed home. I just felt so bad for him that I couldn't really protest. I did, however, suggest that we go home early after Sprout had the worst night she has ever had, and was blown off. I'll bet you can guess my reaction to that one. If I had a voice, it would have been heard in Scotland, I'm pretty sure.

I'm not going to talk about my in-laws, or the rest of my husband's extended family, for obvious reasons. They are amazing people, and are more than generous when it comes to us and to Sprout. I have my issues with them, and have had past issues as well, but they're not worth discussing in a public manner. Let's just leave it at that.

The drive home was much the same. Pooping, diaper changes on lap, vomitrocious dog, motion sickness. I actually had to get my husband to switch places with me and let me drive for the last 2 hours. Sprout, though, must have known she was going home. We stopped in Airdrie to visit some close friends and their 2 adorable boys, and after that, she slept soundly the entire way home. And overnight. Thank goodness.

When we arrived home, I realized a few things. I am not EVER going to attempt that trip again if Sprout or I are feeling less than stellar. Traveling with a baby is difficult enough, and I have an extremely happy child most of the time. Add in the lack of sleep, sickness, and crazy pooch, and you're headed for a giant post-trip blowout. I love my husband, and that is why I went this weekend. He knows that, and knows that today I will be heading to the walk-in clinic to find out if those blisters on my uvula and possible sinus infection warrant antibiotic treatment (I refuse to take them unless it's absolutely necessary, and I will NOT feed Sprout my milk if I have to take anything). I'm expecting a month full of flowers and showers of adoration. Is that unrealistic? I am the one who makes the sacrifices around here, right? Or maybe I'm just being a princess. I think it's a bit of both. Either way, on with the affection. Sorry for the lack of blogging lately. No wi-fi out at the farm this weekend. Sprout is having a gigantor nap, so I'm going to go make some "good for the soul, good in the bowl" soup.

Sleep tight, little Sprout.

xoxoxo

Mommy