Friday, March 30, 2007

Garden Terror




These were all taken in our yard in the 5 minutes before Olive decided that grass was terrifying and that Doug and I being one step away from her was one step too far. 'Cuz that grass is damn scary.

Accomplish some yard work? Dream on suckas, dream on.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Growing


"... without children we wouldn't grow because we would continue to make ourselves the center of the world... the mess of life, the chaos, the challenges and the growth that comes from having children is what life is about..." - Annie Fiery Barrows in Expectations: 30 Women Talk About Becoming a Mother

Sometimes it feels like my heart has grown so big, it's going to burst through my chest. Olive grins at me. She waves night night to her chicken mobile. She loves the feeling of the swings, the wind in her face, that jump in her tummy as she glides back and forth. We make her into an Olive sandwich, squishing her between us in a giant hug and kiss fest. She wants to sleep with her legs on my stomach, curled into my body. She is so eager to explore the world and herself, her voice, her abilities. Nothing is static. Following books on sleep, on raising kids, like they're bibles is foolishness. It is exactly the same as the blind devotion to religious rhetoric that fuels wars. Life is messy, and babies are messier. My buttons are pushed, my walls are crashed into and crashed down. Constantly. I'll have two days of peace and five of struggle. I've been thinking a lot about when Olive was a newborn. About how disappointed I was, how shocked, how resistant I was to how much she needed me. I kept getting angry and hopeless, saying that I couldn't do it, that we had made a mistake. Now I wish that I could stay home forever. That Doug could stay home with us all of the time. We are all so much happier when nobody is going to work. This is divine. And divinely difficult.

Words that inspire me:
"When you're tired and your baby is crying at night, ask yourself, what is your baby trying to tell you? If they could speak, what would they say? Mama, I'm scared, I'm tired, I need you to come and lie with me in the dark until I go to sleep again." (Paraphrased from a mummy I respect very much). For the past few nights Olive has been waking up crying within the first hour of sleep and I walk in and she just looks so scared, her little hands shaking. If I followed some of the common lore I would say, too bad baby, you can't be hungry, your bum is dry, nothing is wrong, go to sleep. But I know that she is saying to me "Mama, I need you. I need your comfort. Something has scared me, and I need to know that you are here for me." And yesterday I realized that what I am doing for Olive is a gift. I am giving her the gift of safety, of unconditional love, of trust. And in return I am experiencing the most crazy, intense, full love I have ever experienced. I sometimes feel like my DNA is rearranging itself - I am so changed, to the very core of my being, by the gift of being Olive's mama. Becoming parents is giving Doug and I the opportunity and the impetus to become better human beings and better partners to each other. It's not easy, but it is good. And maybe I can't do it all of the time, but what I can give her, I will. Because it all comes down to this, we're building the foundation. We're growing the tree.

Olive was 2 days old in this photo.

Monday, March 26, 2007

Looking for joy



I came across a lovely spring manifesto and thought, with the sunshine finally returning, that this is a good idea. Good to ponder. Good to write down and remember.

I will dive into nursing my baby. I will luxuriate in nuzzling her sweet cheeks and soft hair. In stroking her sweet skin. It is going by so fast, and I'm not ready for her to be big yet.

We will spend time rolling on the grass and discovering flowers and feeling warm breezes on our naked skin - it is all new to O.

I will embrace opportunities to snuggle and giggle in bed with Doug and Olive.

I will read the manual on our camera and learn how to use it to its full extent.

I will make time for meditation.

I will read on the back porch while sipping something yummy.

I will believe in the truth of my instincts.

I will listen to more music and less talk radio.

I will explore more seasonal, local foods.

I will drive less and walk more.

I will look for the possibility of joy, not sorrow. Because it really is everywhere, when I stop racing forwards all of the time.

I will be present.

I will enjoy chocolate in all its forms.

The photos are from one of our favourite walking spots near our house, Mountain View Cemetery.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Pause


Took a little pause in the blogging and extreme internet use/abuse.

The big daddy has been home this week and we have been nurturing the sick baby and each other and trying to accomplish practical things (like taking apart the beautiful handpainted crib that we don't use and baby proofing the house).

Taxes, tidying, buying Olive a made in Vancouver non-toxic futon, and a date for mummy and daddy! And an evening out with girlfriends, beer and nachos for mummy. Many firsts.

All in all, a restful time.

Too bad it has been unrelenting misery outside for eons - oh, where art thou spring? We're dying for a little sunshine and rolling around on the grass (grass - not mud). And bird watching. High hopes for the weekend.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

A good mother

Today was a day of struggle.

Olive has been whiny for a good 36 hours. Which seems like nothing, but added to 2 weeks of a cold, plus my own cold, and a dash of middle of the night 'can't go back to sleep because I can't nurse because my nose is stuffed so I will whine and cry and thrash in mummy's ear' in addition to a generous dollop of 8 whole months of chronic sleep deprivation equals one mama who loses it.

I have not been taking care of myself. I have been getting caught up in my ideas of what a 'good' mother is. A good mother stays with her baby when they're sick. They nurse on demand. They nurse through the night. They make organic baby food from scratch. They stimulate with books, songs, rhymes, and natural toys. They carry their babies and feel guilty when they use the stroller. They always know what's wrong and how to fix it. They don't need breaks. They don't let their babies cry for any length of time. Ever. They don't give their babies ibuprofen for their teething pain. They don't yell fuck. They don't feel hate. They don't want to just be left the fuck alone for just a little while. And if they do need a break, need some sleep, need to go and talk with someone else about something else PLEASE, they are shitty, uncaring, selfish women whose children will hate them later.

And so I've hit a wall. I am tired of being jealous of other mums who find time for themselves. I'm tired of whispering evil shit about them because I don't do that for myself.

I need to exercise. I need some evenings off. I need a bit more sleep. I need some space to be alone in my body and my mind. I need to give myself a break and acknowledge that I am a good mum. I am a good mum.

I've always felt like I wasn't really good at anything. "Jack of all trades, master of none" (as my friend Dana says). Even getting a Master's degree in librarianship felt the same - I always thought 'this is an easy Master's' or 'I'm not as smart as my fellow students', and in the end, librarians are the quintessential Jack of all trades. And I was never a gifted actor, never a great artist, no great passion for anything really. I'm not as nice as Doug. I have a big mouth and a bad temper.

And so, I've always wanted to be a mum. I've always loved kids and babies, and as an adult I developed this fixation on becoming a mother. I was crazy with unfounded paranoia about not being able to get pregnant, and worried the whole way through my pregnancy that something bad would happen to the baby.

And then Olive showed up, healthy and beautiful and so, so, so much harder than I had ever guessed. I. had. no. idea. How could I?

And I have been putting pressure on myself to be this 'good' mother ever since. I'm depressed. I have problems with anxiety. And I'm a really good mum. Who needs to take a step back. Who needs to let go. Who needs to rely upon others a bit more.

So, here we go.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Irritated




Olive has discovered her free will and is doing her best to assert herself whenever I do something to piss her off. Which is frequently.

She makes this squinched up face and yells/screams/grabs/kicks/whines.

Things that irritate her:
  • hard poos (not really my fault)
  • taking away things she's playing with (say, a ceramic dish)
  • not giving her the spoon while she's eating
  • eating solids delivered by said spoon (time for finger food?)
  • wiping her face
  • wiping her boogey nose
  • changing her diaper
  • leaving her alone on the floor
  • leaving her alone in the bed
  • removing my nipple from her mouth
  • trying to put my nipple in her mouth when we are in public or with others (she can only focus on nursing for any length of time if she is a) falling asleep, b) asleep, or c) so famished she might perish without it)
I am sick. My theory is that the cold came because I actually got some sleep three nights in a row (only 4 or 5 wake ups per night - it was divine). Doug thinks I'm crazy. This is not the first time he's told me that.

We played with our friends Charlie & Etta this afternoon. A good time was had by all.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Monday, March 12, 2007

Here comes the sun!


The sun came out today after a week of nothing but pouring, revolting, freezing rain. We walked and walked and missed napping so that we could soak in the rays and check out the crocuses (croci?). So worth it.

Here's a shot of Doug's completed birthday hat as he cuddles with our sweet baby.

I LOVE these birthday crowns that Soulemama is making. There will definitely be one in the works for misses Olive and Etta Mae. What could be better than a crown on your special day!

I love this lady's quilts. I can't wait to get my sewing machine in shape; maybe we'll walk up to the crazy stretchy-sequined-flammable fabric shop tomorrow after naptime and look for some oil so that I can repair the damage of years of neglect.

We're also loving this Nigella recipe for Chocolate Cloud Cake. Oh so easy, oh so tasty. Oh no, I've made it twice in the past week (for sharing with others, I swear!).

Flowers! Sunshine! Sushi in the park with a good friend! Makes me feel like a million bucks. Only yoga would've made it better.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Seeking some clarity


I've been thinking a lot about community and about sleep (or lack thereof), and last night Doug and I were talking with our very close friends who are also new parents about how much these two issues dominate our lives.

We were talking about how our friends could return to Nova Scotia, where they could afford to buy a house (Vancouver is now the second most expensive place in North America to live), and more importantly, where they would be surrounded by family. Their daughter could grow up as part of a giant clan of cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and great grandparents, all of whom would help with the difficult business of raising children.

As it stands we only have ourselves. The mummies spend all day and night caring for the babies, and the only relief we have is from the daddies, who are both working full time. Having my mum and aunt here last weekend really emphasized this for me, this aloneness, and the exhausting nature of it just being Doug and I on duty, all of the time. And that's not to say that other friends don't volunteer to watch Olive (or Etta), but other friends aren't around enough to really create a bond with the babes - and we aren't into leaving our babes with people who to them are virtual strangers. We can leave the girls with each other, but that means that we, as already tired-out parents, then take on two babes for awhile to give the other couple a break. And you can't (due to scheduling/exhaustion) do this super regularly. Last weekend my mum took Olive every morning so that Doug and I could both get some sleep, and during the day we both got a bit of a break instead of Olive always being with one or the other. I don't need help everyday, but a regular visit with Nanny or a substitute Nanny would be heaven. Because nannies love their babies, no matter how they cry, and they also love the mamas and papas, no matter how they bitch.

Now, that's not to say that we don't love being with Olive, but I don't believe that babies were meant to be raised within the confines of the nuclear family. Nursing a babe all night and day, and truly nurturing her as she needs (and deserves) to be nurtured takes a huge, vast amount of energy and patience. This plague of cry it out, and babies sleeping alone in cribs in their own rooms is a product of this isolation of families, and when you try to avoid that, to nurture your family, you realize just how much nurturing mum and dad need as well as babe. It's so hard to treat yourself and your partner well when you're both pouring all of your energy into the baby and taking care of basics.

So, we need to ask, what do we really want for our family? Do we want to be able to buy a house? Do we want to be near my family, no matter the cost (i.e. living in Kamloops)? Is it worth it to live in a place where you would have no tribe, but you would have family? Should we run away to some far away place where we can build a new community? Should we stay here in Vancouver with no family, no stable home, and maybe soon, no best friends? What is best for Doug, Olive & I as a unit?

I do know that we want to be together as much as possible - no Doug working in summers, no mama working full-time. Lots of lazy, rich days together. In a dream, both Doug and I would be 'working' from home as artisans of one kind or another. We didn't have Olive to stick her in daycare. We won't work so much that our family dies, even though that is what it would take to own a home in Vancouver.

And sleeping. Sleeping. We've talked about trying to change her sleep habits a lot. When we have a couple of bad nights and I'm so tired I'm nauseous and brain dead and angry, we say, 'we have to change this.' But then I have to look inside myself and when I do I see this: a happy, thriving baby. A deep, abiding connection, love and sense of safety. I feel like I have something with Olive that I wouldn't have if she didn't night nurse and co-sleep. I'd love it if she'd nurse less at night (say 2 or 3 times instead of God knows how many), but I am not willing, at this point in time, to let her cry. Even if the crying is in her dad's arms. Why would we spend all of this time growing this trust, this attachment, only to break it? I do not want her to sleep in her own room. I don't want her to sleep in a crib. I want her to spend most of the night near us, with our bodies touching, reassuring each other.

So, so. So, we're going to rearrange our bedroom to make it safer for a crawling baby and to give her a little sleeping nook on the floor so that she'll (hopefully) not wake up when mum and dad come to bed at night. And we're in negotiations on whether Doug will take her for some of the wake ups for awhile to get her to maybe stop waking so frequently (this will be a big debate). And if this doesn't work or doesn't happen, I need to make a committment to myself to some self-care. I need to start trying to take naps and to go to bed early once or twice a week. And I need to do some yoga at home and to exercise a bit more.

Self-care. Rearranging. Big talks about the future. Financial reassessment.

Clarity, let's get crackin'.

Friday, March 9, 2007

Melange



Oi, the wee babe is sick. She's been fighting a cold for a week now, and has now evolved into a gooby coughing mess. Great green gobs of snot drip down her face, and if I'm not on it in seconds (maybe a fraction of a second), she is rubbing her nose and her eyes and there is a melange of body fluids EVERYWHERE. Or she just eats it. Mmmmmm. All of those times I grossed my mum out by chewing my toenails are coming back to haunt me.

Yesterday I impulse purchased myself a (huge) skein of Fleece Artist Country Mohair in Rainforest. It is SO beautiful. I had no idea what I would do with it at the time, but I've since dreamed up the plan for a gorgeous pillow for my couch. Yummy. There was another woman there puchasing 6 skeins who was talking about creating a coat based on her grandfather's oriental rug. Ya.... me too. 'Cuz I would know how to do that.

I am an obsessive list maker. I make huge lists, then I accomplish almost nothing on it. But dammit, that list will prevent me from forgetting anything that I shouldn't. There are currently things on the big list (living on the fridge) that are months behind. We missed the RESP date. I haven't called my cousin. The car hasn't been cleaned since we purchased it. And why the heck would I want to read that boring insurance policy anyways? I'd much rather attend to the pressing business of nursing/playing/feeding/walking/dishes/laundry/taking a break. Getting the bathroom cleaned on a semi-regular basis is a triumph - actually making a will is beyond my ken.

And really, let's be honest. My brain is a sieve. Random thoughts and ideas trickle through my mind, like snowflakes on a warm day, only to melt the moment they make contact with anything else. So, the lists.

Uh, what was the point?

I finally finished Doug's birthday hat - photo forthcoming (must convince him to let me take a picture), and mostly finished the baby sweater (need some wooden buttons) which will be blogged about on Handmaiden's blog because, evidently, it is a near perfect example of what Mme. Handmaiden refers to as "the sweet spot" in hand dyed yarn.

Crafty goals (I feel a list coming on...):
  • clean & oil sewing machine
  • purchase fabric to make bibs
  • start above mentioned pillow
  • practice embroidery

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

Mishmash


The babe is sick (nasty ol' cold - can't breathe properly through the schnoz) and napping (merci dieu).

The guests has flown (it was lovely - lots of decadent food and other people doing the dishes/getting up early with Olive).

Mummy is taking an internet break instead of doing laundry/dishes/bathroom/washing floors.

Things I desire:
  • These delicious Trippen Pleats boots.
  • These gorgeous Born sandals in Moss Green.
  • A trip to the this fabric store in Portland.
  • A couple of skeins of this yarn in Tangerine and Avocado.
  • To live in a nice old house with a porch and lots of trees on a plot of land for a vegetable garden, where it is quiet and you can walk in the woods right outside your door. There will be enough room for me to have a studio and for Doug to have a workshop. It's going to happen.

Thursday, March 1, 2007


And her first word is mama!

There is some debate around our house about whether it is indeed a legitimate first word (does she know what she's saying or is it just an easy sound?), but I attest that when a baby says 'mamamamama' when she has just woken from a nap or wants a boob or wants to be picked up, she knows what she's saying. Or she knows that this sound is an effective tool for getting what she wants, all of which revolve around me.

I deserve the first word!

My poor babe is sick. Yesterday evening involved some spraying of saline, some resistance to spraying, some hating of the humidifier, some biting of mummy's precious nips (6 times now, I'm keeping track. There's nothing like a nip on the nips to make a mummy rethink her idea of nursing until her babe self-weans. Oi. I don't put my foot down about much yet with this monkey, but biting and stealing glasses are off limits). Anyways, I was so sleep deprived and upset about the biting that I passed out on the couch (after a rant at my sweet husband - because you can't rant at the sick baby) and left Doug and Olive to play until 11 o'clock at night. At which point I returned to duty and would you believe that she slept for 3 STRAIGHT HOURS? Sweet Jesus, why can't she do that all of the time?

Anyways, small blessings and all that.

Oh, and I got out a great book on embroidery to guide me in my refurbishing of all of my ancient, stained clothes - because why buy new when Olive will just grind her smut covered jowels all over it, causing me to cry? So, embroidery and applique, here I come.

The Tank



Olive's new name is "Tank". Or "Bucket o' Lead". Or "Fatty McFat Fat". My child is currently growing at such a rate that I can eat whatever I want (nachos, pizza, brownies, Green & Black's chocolate, litres of cream) and she just sucks it out of me. During her epic nighttime feeds. Last night broke new records. I am fairly certain that she nursed for 89% of the night. Which is possibly why my neck feels broken and my eyelids feel like that episode of the Flintstones when Fred propped his eyes open with toothpicks. It's true.

And the CBC is talking about how my generation is financially up s*!t creek without a paddle.

Ya, tell me about it. Hmmm, between Doug and I we have 14 years of university and 1 or 2 of college and collectively we cannot afford to purchase a home. Except in Saskatchewan. Where we can't get jobs. And the mosquitos are bigger than my eye.

Sweet.

My mum and aunt are coming tomorrow. I can't wait. I have visions of accomplishing things (boring things, like cleaning the car and washing the floors - it has been SO long) while they entertain Olive. What will probably happen is I'll get nothing done because Olive will cling to me like a baby monkey. But on the positive side I can sit on my mum's lap and let her cuddle me like I'm the baby. And we'll play cards.

This picture makes me laugh every time! She was in a post-dinner, pre-bedtime mood that perfectly reflects how I feel most of the time.