Jumpin' Jellyfish!

Brrrrrr! I stepped out my back door this morning with one toe to yell at my yappy pooch and was completely caught off-guard by the frosty chill in the air! Not that I should be...it IS already the 18th of October. Sprout is 11 months old today. So hard to believe. I look back at pictures of myself pregnant, and it seems so surreal already. Was I really that big? Sigh. One more month until her BIG birthday party! We've rented a hall. Our families are huge, and we have people coming in from out of town, so I figured it would be best to just have a super gigantic party - especially for her first one.

This blog will be a short one today, just because I'm venting about something I don't really want to spend much time on.

'J' is for Jealousy

**By the way, if you know where the title for this blog came from, I will give you 500 points. I don't know what you could redeem those points for...maybe a hug?**

We have a dog. I know that I have mentioned her before, in a previous post where I discussed when we got rid of our other, bigger dog. Thus far, I really haven't been able to complain about Roxy. You couldn't ask for a better dog for Sprout! She lets her roll on her, kiss her, hug her, pull her hair and her tail, and she never growls or anything, just looks at me with this disdainful scowl that seems to say "Really? You're just going to let her do this?". I always respond by saying, "Yes. She is the boss of you." This weekend, however, and lately when we have had other people over, we've had a bit of a jealousy issue.

My dog is a female, but she is always trying to...well...*ahem*...dominate everything and everyone that takes attention away from her, if you catch my drift. Everyone always asks me why she does it, and it is purely an act of dominance, and jealousy. Gross still - she 'dominated' Sprout's little friend's head a few weeks back, and I was mortified. So we had a house full of people this weekend to celebrate my 25th birthday, and the whole time, Roxy was either getting in everyone's face, shoving her way in front of Sprout, or trying to 'dominate' our guests AND our baby. Unacceptable. I was so mad, I could have tossed her out the front door to fend for herself. I never would, actually, she just drives me bonkers sometimes.

So while she is a good dog, and very good with Sprout, we've got an obvious jealousy issue that needs to be addressed. I will be watching a LOT of Cesar Millan this week to try and get some solutions. Maybe I'll even send an email. Nobody wants a dog 'dominating' their child when they come to visit, or their leg...or arm...or foot. It's ridiculous. I know they have instincts, but seriously. Ew.

Sprout has her second cold, already, only a week after finally shedding the last snot ball from her first cold. I am battling the same thing, but seem to be doing much better than her. She's got the stuffy, runny nose, chest cough, fever, super flushed cheeks, and a rash on her back and down her arms. Thus, I am not spending much time blogging today, as I fear that her nap is going to be fairly short-lived. I hope you have a wonderful day, and that you weren't bored by my puppy rant.

Brace yourself, Sprout. Mommy's coming upstairs armed with Q-Tips, Boogie Wipes, and Tylenol. Let the hog-tie begin.

xoxoxo

Mommy

Ha ha ha ha! Inconceivable!

I fear that this alphabetical theme of mine is moving forwards rather slowly. Therefore, today I will be cheating and doing both 'H' and 'I'.

'H' is for Health

My poor little Sprout got her first real cold about two weeks ago, and as mild as it was, I couldn't help but baby her and feel horrible about the fact that she was sick. As a mother, I think I always wonder if there wasn't something I could have done to prevent an illness, injury, etc. Silly, I know, but I keep thinking..."what if I would have doused the handles of the grocery basket with hand sanitizer?" Her little stuffy nose is what got me the most. Here's my dilemma: I can handle most bodily gross-outs from any baby, child, or adult - it doesn't have to be my own. Vomit, poop, blood, cuts, childbirth...anything goes. The one thing that will drive me to toss my own cookies (or just dry heave with my hand clamped over my mouth) is...*shudder*...SNOT.

That's right. The green, yellow, and white strings of mucous that stream from a child's nose (even my own) in that ever-disgusting number eleven down to their upper lip make me lose my cool. I had to look away every time Sprout sneezed out another snot ball, which made me feel bad, because she didn't like having her nose oozing out boogers either. Or having her nose wiped, for that matter. So began the battle of mother, daughter, snot, and Kleenex. I tried using saline drops and suctioning out her nose, but then she just screamed like I was about to club her over the head with a piano - I'm sure the neighbours would have thought something was up if we continued that. When she had her three daily bottles (nap, nap, bedtime), the sound of her trying to breathe and slurp back her milk was heartbreaking. Thank goodness colds don't last for very long, or else I would have lost my mind.

Now, I know I shouldn't be complaining about Sprout's health, and I'm not, really. It was just the first time that she has ever been sick with something "normal", instead of her allergies or the episode of baby measles a few months ago. I am very fortunate to have a healthy, happy baby, and feel so awful for those who have to deal with days, months, or years of their child's hospitalization, treatments, and testing. I don't know how I would hold up in that kind of a situation. I'm already a sucker when she's not feeling good. The one night, I even went and took her into the spare bedroom to sleep with me because she was awake for hours and couldn't sleep because of her cough and stuffy nose. Poor kid. Anyways, now her cold is just about completely gone. All that is left are the remnants of early morning snot battles characterized by a crusty little nose that, as per usual, she HATES having wiped.

'I' is for Intelligence

Okay, I know I'm a little biased, and I hate to brag here, but...seriously...Sprout is amazingly intelligent. She blows me away every day. At 10.5 months old, here is her list of steady words that she can say (and usually does, on command):

Mama

Dada

Ba Ba (bottle)

Pup-pup (puppy)

Nona (my mother insisted on being called Noni, but Sprout is even smarter when she tries - Nona is Italian for Grandmother!)

Grandpa

Pah (she says Up backwards...)

Num-Num

Banana

Hi

The list could probably go on, I just can't think of any more that she will say on a regular basis. If she points at something and looks at me, I always tell her what it is, and have always told her to look at my lips when I say it. Now, every time I do that, she makes a very concerted effort to say the word herself. It is amazing! I'm sure there are a million kids who talk early, and Sprout won't be walking early or anything, but it makes me so damn proud to see her accomplishments! Not only the talking, but she waves hi and bye, claps, blows kisses, points, shakes her head no (in context), opens and closes her hands when she wants something, and has now started walking around the furniture when she pulls herself up. This year has gone by so fast, I just can't believe all of the changes in the last couple of months, and how much she has grown and learned. Like I said, I don't like to seem like a braggart...but she IS really, really smart!

Alright, now that I've puffed up my little Sprout's teeny ego, I should really go and do some housework. Homemade chicken noodle soup for supper tonight, Sprout. Mama's going to be busy working magic in the kitchen!

xoxoxo

Mommy

Ghouls and Goblins

Yep, you guessed it. This blog is going to be about...ghosts. It's not a spooky *oooh* ghost kind of blog, even though Hallowe'en is coming up in a month or so. (Speaking of which, Sprout is being a DRAGON - can't wait to post photos!!)

I'll have to go back a little ways and start at the beginning. My first funeral that I ever attended was that of my Great-Grandmother (on my Mom's side). She was an amazing woman, and incredible writer. I give her full credit for sparking my love for poetry. We used to go and visit her - she lived in an assisted care facility in Camrose - and she would give me advice about writing and let me rifle through her written work. When she passed away, I was asked if I would write a poem and read it at her service. At the ripe old age of 13, I thought it would be a wonderful way to pay tribute to her. I remember not wavering at all in my voice, but being frozen to the floor staring down at the small-ish wooden box that she was inside at the front of the church. I didn't look up the entire time that I read. At the internment, there was a moment of quiet awe as the sun came out from behind a cloud, and a flock of small birds burst forth from a tree close by the gravesite. Was it her? Was it God? Who knows? But it was really incredible.

After that day, I began to have dreams about her, and not just a foggy dream. Vivid ones, where I could feel touch, smell things, taste food, etc. She would ask me questions about our family, and continue to give me advice on my writing. I have a very large imagination, and at the time I just thought it was my subconscious way of expressing that I missed having her around to visit and talk to. Lately though, I have begun to think otherwise.

In January of 2009, my Grandfather (also on my Mom's side) passed away after a very brief battle with lung cancer. It was extremely hard on our entire family. He always seemed like this big, strong rock that held everyone together, and to see him crumble and wither over such a short period of time was something I will never forget. As Sprout was born in November, she got to spend a very short two-month span going back and forth to visit her Great-Grandpa at the palliative care facility where he was admitted. It was amazing to see how much she brightened his days. Each time we would visit, even if she was crabby as a crab, when I laid her beside him to snuggle in his bed, she would quiet down and snuggle into him and go to sleep. It was amazing to watch. He loved her, and she loved him. Like I said before, his passing was very difficult for all of us. I grew up living in my Grandma & Grandpa's house until I was 10 years old, and my sister and I have always been close to both of them. Again, I was asked to write and read something at his service, and I did, but this time, I didn't hold myself together as well.

Nothing crazy happened at the service, and there was no internment, as he was cremated, but I have had numerous dreams about him since he passed. The latest was so vivid and real that I was actually woken up by the fact that I was sobbing in my sleep. Here's how it went: my whole extended family was together, and we were at my Grandma's old house (the one I grew up in), and my Grandpa was there. He came and sat down next to me and was talking to me about Sprout. He told me how beautiful she was, and how much she had grown and changed, and that he was so proud of me as a mother. That was enough to set me off crying, but then he started talking about my cousin, who is due with her first child this year. Up until this point, I think we all said we thought she was having a girl, but his exact words to me were "You know, she's having a boy." And he also informed me that when he was born, I was to make sure that the little guy had a jacket just like the one he was wearing. He had on a denim jacket with a brown corduroy collar on it, and I'm sure it was an actual jacket he owned (confirmed by my Grandma). I hugged him, and I swear I could feel his arms around me, and smell the faint hints of sawdust and vanilla pipe tobacco that were nostalgically familiar. It was at that point that I started to cry in the dream, and woke up absolutely sobbing. My poor husband - at 6:00 in the morning, I don't think he was awake enough to even know what to do! It will be interesting to see if she does, indeed, have a boy. If she does, I'd better start hunting for a jacket like that, or create one somehow.

So the question remains: do I believe in ghosts? Do you? Whatever your beliefs or thoughts, it is comforting to think that those that we miss so fiercely in death find their way back into our lives somehow and continue to watch over us and the ones we love throughout our days. Sprout will undoubtedly not remember her cuddles with her Great-Grandpa, but we have photos and can tell her all about it and what he was like; that it is really too bad that she didn't get to spend more time with him. Maybe he will find his way into her dreams someday. For now, I will just keep my memories alive, and hope that wherever he is, he knows he is still loved.

Let me know if anyone ever visits your dreams, Sprout. Even if it's our brains creating a subconscious fantasy, it still feels pretty incredible.

xoxoxo

Mommy

Frankie? Really?

Oh, the letter 'F'. It could stand for so many things. It reminds me of that commercial they had on a few years back about the Knorr frozen dinners, where they bleeped out the word "frozen" and made it sound like...well...something else. Hilarious. Had me in stitches every single time. The title of this blog refers to the comment my loving husband made when we were talking about girl names back in my giant prego days. I have always LOVED the name Frankie for a girl, but we both decided against it. There weren't any longer names that would shorten to Frankie that either of us really liked. Francesca, Francis, Francine. Nope. None of them seemed right, so we just left Frankie by the wayside. 'F' could stand for fun, facetiousness, fancy, farting (not me, the dog...changed her food lately and she has such bad gas that she lets 'er rip constantly...and audibly..*gag*), flirting, etc. I could go on and on. Today, though, the letter 'F' is for something a little more...friendly...

'F' is for Family

Where would I be without my family? Probably stuck under a rock somewhere with my arms and legs flailing. But seriously now, family is one of the most important things to me, and it is incredible how much more important your own little family unit becomes when you bring a child into the mix. Before Sprout, it was difficult to think of my husband and I as our own family. Family was supposed to be about having everyone together, eating good food (mmm...apple salad...secret family recipe to follow), having good conversation, and watching the kids all run and play (or being a kid and going to play). Now that I have grown up - a little - and started my own family, things sure have changed. Not that my extended family members aren't important, it's just...my husband and Sprout are MY family - the one that will grow outwards from us, now. Strange to think of.

I remember being a little girl and playing with my cousins, never once wondering what life would bring us, or whether we would remain close as adults. Time shifts everything, even family. As we age, we become closer with some and more distant with others. Those large family get-togethers become fewer and farther between, and when they do happen, not everyone is there. We get married (or not), have kids (or not), and eventually become our own family units. Going for Christmas dinner at Grandma's house becomes going for Christmas dinner at my mom's house...who is Sprout's Grandma...weird. The shift is eventual and gradual, and will definitely take some time to get used to, but it is a welcome change. The memories and family bond that I created as a child will become Sprout's with our 'new' family and the changing way our holidays/birthdays/etc. are celebrated.

It makes me feel sadly nostalgic to think about those Christmas Eves spent playing with all of my cousins at my Grandma's house. The smell of turkey, ham, gravy, and sweet potatoes permeating the air. Grandpa whistling carols at the dining room table. Presents piled halfway across the living room because they just didn't fit underneath the tree - well, that one is usually still true on Christmas Day at my mom's house. We have a tendency (as a family) to go overboard. An actual fire roaring in the fireplace. Snowball fights in the back yard. As much as I miss all of it myself, I am so excited to watch Sprout grow and create lasting memories for herself with our 'new' family. She'll have a much smaller one, less cousins, and possibly more chaos with the traveling we have to do to Southern Alberta to visit the in-laws, but it will be what she knows. I think it's always going to be hard, knowing that I had SO many cousins to play with growing up, and that there were waaaaaay too many aunts and uncles crammed into my Grandma's house. Sprout isn't going to have quite the same experience, but I seem to forget that those are MY memories, not hers, and she will grow up (hopefully) to feel the same nostalgic feelings about her own childhood when she has children of her own.

I've never understood those that don't make their family a priority. Family is what you make of it. To be able to look back on your life and say that you were surrounded by loving family & friends is enough of an accomplishment for a single lifetime, don't you think? We all overwork ourselves, strive for more money, less problems, more 'things'. I understand that working is a part of everyday life, without which you can't even support a family, but do we really need all that we 'work for'? Will those 'things' really be worth the time and effort put into them by the end of your life? Think about it sometime. I challenge you to take some time this next month and devote it to your family - extended or otherwise. If you don't have family, devote it to your closest friends. Find out what they are in need of, lend a helping hand, be supportive. Be thankful f0r what you have. I know I am. Even when she's whining, miserable, teething, or otherwise, my little Sprout is still a miracle to me. She is my gift from God that I will never do enough in this lifetime to deserve. She is my family. You will always be my priority, my Sprout. Family always is.

xoxoxo

Mommy

Apple Salad

5-6 Medium-sized apples (Macintosh work well, or Golden Delicious)

2 cups Whipping cream

1 tsp Vanilla (not the fake stuff)

1 tsp Cinnamon

2 Tbsp Confectioner's sugar

Prepare the whipping cream: whip with a stand or hand mixer on medium speed until soft peaks form. Add the vanilla, cinnamon, and confectioner's sugar. Continue to whip on medium until desired consistency. Core, peel, and dice apples into small chunks. Fold whipping cream into apples. Top with a sprinkle of cinnamon & confectioners sugar. Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve (at least 1 hour).

Elephant Ears...mmm...

I've been having a really difficult time rifling through my brain-files for an "E" topic to write about. For the past couple of weeks, I have been unendingly busy with work - both my massage therapy job and my home-based Little Sprout Designs. I don't want to complain, because I am so grateful that I have so many supportive clients and customers for both ventures, but I am flat-out exhausted. Hey! There's one!

E is for Exhaustion

Boy, do I know about exhaustion. I strive to live my life every day as though it will be my last. Sometimes, I am really not very good at that - I have a tendency to let the small things bother me, and let myself get worked up about stuff that doesn't really matter, in the grand scheme of life. Lately, I have been so stressed out about absolutely everything that I allowed myself to get run down, and have ended up with a wicked cough & cold. That, in itself, makes everything more difficult. Imagine going for a massage appointment - supposed to be relaxing, right? - and having a therapist who is coughing and sniffling through your entire treatment. I can't afford to take time off of work, but #1: I feel horrible, and #2: Who wants to be massaged by someone hacking and sneezing and sniffling the whole time?

Whine, whine, whine. I know, right? Maybe I should call this the Whiny Mom Blog. Either way, I have been having a rough time lately, but on the up side of things - business has been very fruitful. I am really looking forward to the BIG craft show in November (see: www.weestock.ca for more info) now, and starting to stockpile all of my items! Seeing as how this might be one of the last semi-nice sunny days, I think I will take my little Sprout outside for some product photo-ops! Nothing could be cuter than a little girl in a pretty pink tutu on the still partially-green grass in the sunshine!! Ah, but I digress.

We will be going away this weekend to visit the in-laws down in Southern Alberta, which makes for a bit of a break from all the hustle and bustle. Sure, it's work to get everything packed up for a 9.5 month old, us, and a dog, but once we get there, it's quiet and relaxing. If I won the lottery, I would build a big house somewhere in the Coulees and wake up every day to the giant Alberta sky and the mountains. I'll be confiscating my mother-in-law's digital SLR to take some photos this weekend - stay tuned for the next blog..."F" could be for a number of things (ha ha), but it will probably have something to do with "Farm". Off to the cows we go, Sprout. Pack up your gumboots and leave your frilly tutus at home.

xoxoxo

Mommy

Dinglehopper.

I have a feeling that 'E' is going to be for exhaustion. Not from Sprout, really, although she has become quite the crabby mc teething monster lately. No, the exhaustion has been stemming from an ongoing issue with my thyroid gland. I have an autoimmune thyroid disease called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. Google it. I'm too tired to explain! But I digress, and I am skipping the letter of the day! Let's talk about some more depressing things, seeing as how I'm in that kind of mood today (and depressed starts with 'D'). Oh, and it's raining outside. Perfect.

D is for Dieting and Debt.

The first of our 'D' words today - diet - is something that has been nonexistent in my life. I have never gone on one, or tried some new fad (Atkins, etc.) to get my body into the shape that I would like. I suppose the next blog subject could be exercise...or a total lack thereof. Lately, I have been feeling a little down about the current state of my post-prego body. I can't really complain, and will probably get smacked if I do, but here's my issue: I've lost above and beyond the weight that I gained during my pregnancy (and the miscarried one previous to it), but there have been seemingly irreversable changes to the structure of my *ahem* curves that I am none too pleased with. First off - what the hell happened to my hips and upper thighs? They turned to Jello post-partum and haven't gotten any sort of structure back. I haven't been trying that hard, but it's not like I sit on my ass all day and do nothing. I haul around a twenty-something pound child all day every day. The stretch marks that gouged my ass, inner and outer thighs, and lower back are ALL still there. They aren't quite as purple, but they are definitely not going anywhere anytime soon. My belly button has turned into a deep cavernous pit that is only good for catching disgusting amounts of lint and looking gross in a bikini. To top it all off, though, I think the worst change has been the deflation of my once-gloriously-perky-and-full breasts. As soon as I stopped pumping, it was as though someone stuck each one with a pin and they wheezed their last puff of perkiness out, leaving me with saggy pancakes that are a full cup size smaller than they used to be. Boo-freaking-hoo, right? Sob story, I know. But no matter what, and even though I would sacrifice my body all over again for my beautiful little girl, it is still hard to walk past that bathroom mirror and get in the shower. Most days I run. It will get better, and if I actually get motivated to do something about the saggy baggies (breasts and thighs), I might perk up - literally.

On to the next topic. Debt. It's a scary one. Being off for 13 weeks before I gave birth to Sprout really didn't help with our debt situation. I went back to work after 3.5 months at home, but that is a LONG time to be living off of one person's income. And we weren't really living, we just went further and further into debt each and every month, although we were being careful. Lately, I don't know what happened, but it seems like all responsibility has gone out the window for both of us. We've gotten FAR beyond minor debt, and right now it really seems like we're never going to get out. Both of us have had to renounce our bad habits. Mine - online shopping. His - small purchases (coffee, lunches out, etc.) that have really added up. The driving force behind getting rid of our debt? Wanting to have another child in the next year and a half, and being able to put money away for both every month for their futures.

So those are my dilemmas. Trivial, I know. In the grand scheme of life, neither really matter. We are all healthy, and have a beautiful daughter who is not lacking in anything, especially love. I need to stop shopping, and stop being shallow. I'm alive. My hair is in desperate need of a dinglehopper (see: The Little Mermaid), but otherwise I'm doing okay (Ha!). Whiny little Sprout is currently stuck between her crawl and sitting positions - hilarious, but she's getting awfully frustrated. Mommy to the rescue, little one!

xoxoxo

Mommy

Cookie cookie cookie starts with 'C'!

Okay, the word of the day is NOT cookie, although that does start with 'C', as does confection (tee hee!). Instead, the word that I'm commencing (ha) my blog with today is...

C is for Change

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...ah, how I love Bowie. Sprout will be 9 months old in less than two weeks, and I cannot believe all of the ways in which my life and self have changed. By self, I don't only mean my body. Those changes are painfully apparent, though maybe not to those who see me fully clothed (ie. everyone but my husband and daughter). I am totally floored by the way that I, myself, have grown and changed into a different person.

When you give birth to a child, you are their mother - obviously - but you aren't necessarily a 'mom'. I have found that over the past 9 months, I have absolutely grown into motherhood and become a full-on 'mom'. No, that doesn't mean I've given up my cute jeans for pleated-front, tapered-ankle khakis (smart ass). What it does encompass is me giving up more and more of my younger, less mature self as time goes on. Don't get me wrong, I still like to throw my jammies on and have a Super Mario party with my husband until 2:00 a.m. every once in a while, but I have had to come to terms with the fact that things like summer holidays aren't going to be what they were when I was growing up.

We just finished a week of holidays, which started and ended with two different camping trips. I used to absolutely LOVE camping. Sleeping in a tent, waking up feeling icy cold air on my face with my body snuggled tight into a sleeping bag. Ahhhh. That was the life. Being able to run around, swim all day, go tubing, lounge and tan, eat snacks. It was awesome. Taking a 8.5 month old baby camping in a tent? Still fun, but...different. Less sleep, for sure. Here's where things take a positive spin though. I actually had more fun camping this year with less sleep and freedom and more crying and whining than I ever have in my life! Watching Sprout lose her mind in the lake day after day trying to swim around made me feel so nostalgic and happy. I definitely threatened both Sprout and my husband with leaving early the second night after Sprout had a major teething/lack of sleep/I-don't-know-what-the-hell-was-wrong-with-her meltdown and the man SLEPT through 99% of it all, but when we got up in the morning and went for a walk through the dewey grass in the already-hot sun, all was forgotten.

Speaking of changes, Sprout has gone through some major milestones and changes in the past couple of weeks. I had her measured and weighed at the health unit in town, and she has grown enough in length now that she is just above the 50th percentile for height, and now down to the 75th for weight (she's been in the 90th her whole life so far...). She's slimming down, although to the less constant observer, she's still a chub-monster. Sprout has the backwards shimmy-crawl mastered, and has gotten herself around for the past month and a half rolling, shoving, and back-crawling her way around the house. Yesterday, she forwards-crawled (not super coordinated yet) three feet across the living room rug to me! I whisked her up off the floor into a super bear hug and whispered "just start slowly so Mommy doesn't have a breakdown" into her ear. Already this past week, she cut her second bottom tooth (not going to talk about teething, because it makes me crabby to even think about it) and said her first word ("Mama" - we've got proof on tape! And she almost says "Puppy"...it comes out "pup pup pup pup"). They grow up so fast through the first year, it's really sad to see it all go by!

A friend of mine just had a beautiful baby girl, and going to visit her made me confirm that I want to start trying for a second baby after Sprout turns one in November. I look at Sprout now, and she is getting to be such a big girl, and so much less of a "baby". Sure, she still needs snuggles, and to be fed, and diaper changes, and she certainly isn't walking yet, but I know that those days are numbered. My niece starts kindergarten this fall, and I feel like I blinked and she's so grown up! I'm holding on to these last baby days for as long as I possibly can. I told Sprout that she can wait to crawl, walk, talk, and grow for as long as she wants to - Mommy doesn't mind.

As per usual, I start writing about her, and she wakes up from her nap. Hearing her say "Mama" with the tone of "umm...I'm awake! where are you?" over the monitor makes my eyes tear up. *Sniff sniff* on my way, little Sprout.

xoxoxo

Mommy