Snow Day (sort of)!

So I woke up this morning with the Peanut and gasp! It was snowing. Y'all that live here on the Island know it only does this a couple of times a year and this was the first of the season. I was so excited thinking I would take the Peanut out in the snow and...what exactly? He can't walk yet, heck, he can't even crawl. Snow is cold and he cries when he's cold. Hmm, maybe not as exciting as I thought. Still, it seemed a shame to stay inside on the first snow day of the year...
So after the Peanut's morning nap, I gamely spent ten minutes dressing him in his booties, mitts (with no thumb!), and a coat that's really too big, but it has cute little ear thingies on the hood. Then I put on my own coat and scarf, grabbed a warm blanky and headed out. Got the little guy all settled in the stroller for a Winter Wonderland walk. Got outside and, holy crap it's cold out! The wind was positively biting! I used to live in Edmonton; when did I become such a wuss? Walked about 100 feet from the driveway and was ready to go right back inside. Still it seemed a shame to get all dressed up and not go for a small walk...
Walked the Peanut around the block, with the wind blasting my cheeks. Peanut seemed content enough, though. Got back to the driveway and decided to go to the mall, since it would kill some time and it would be so much warmer. Maybe I could even cross some people off my Christmas list.
On the way to the mall, literally a five-minute drive away, realized I had made a HUGE mistake: I left the Peanut's favorite car-toy at home. It's this Winnie-the-Pooh fabric storybook with only three pages but they have cellophane in the middle and it crinkles. The Peanut loves making that thing crinkle. He starts fussing, but I think that maybe he'll be okay when we get to the mall because he loves people-watching, too. And it would be a shame to go back home...
Realized at the mall that it's a Saturday and it's Christmas shopping season, but I guess the weather kept other people at home because I landed one of those parking spaces just for mothers with small children, and they're ALWAYS taken. Saw this as a good sign, and actually for a Saturday afternoon during Christmas shopping season the mall was not too crowded.
The shopping itself was mostly uneventful; I bought some stocking stuffers and priced out some other stuff. I also bought the Peanut a new toy that crinkles. Then I realized, with 23 more shopping days until Christmas, that every time Iwent Christmas shopping I bought something for the Peanut. If this keeps up, the Peanut is going to be spoiled rotten this Christmas, and he won't even care since he's only six months old. But I just can't help myself; I keep finding cool toys and cute clothes and oh my god I'm gonna be flat broke very, very soon.
At least I have something else to keep me busy for a while: I'm getting a new kitty cat tomorrow! I picked him out from the municipal pound on Thursday, but they have a 96-hour wait period. He's black with white "boots" and he's about 1 1/2 years old, neutered, and seems really mellow. I'll be sure to post how he gets on with the Sati-cat soon.
P.S. I thought about it and calling my little guy the Boss just doesn't sound right. He's just not that demanding (yet). So, I've decided to call him the Peanut, since I've called him that since he was a 10-week old fetus. Even though it was kinda ruined for me when I watched the movie "Just Friends" where Ryan Reynolds' character is called Peanut by his mother and he's in his early 20's. Gawd, I hope I don't become like that...

Back and better than ever (?!)

So for those astute reader(s) out there, I've changed my name. It kinda reflects the change in my life. I hope that I will post more often if I'm a mommy blog than a work blog, especially since I'm still on mat leave.
Ian, aka the Boss, is actually asleep. I've been trying this new thing with him (how many times have I said that?) where I start putting him to bed before 9 pm and he has a meltdown. I've started a bedtime routine with that Bedtime Bath stuff and it seems to be working. I totally thought it was a marketing ploy by Johnson & Johnson, but the last two evenings I've actually had some time to myself. I'm still watching all my prime time TV at 5pm (gotta love digital TV), but maybe by the time there's a new "Grey's Anatomy" I'll be able to watch it at 9pm like a grown-up (without kids).
I have to give some props out to Rebecca Eckler, a Canadian author and mommy blogger for inspiring me to change my focus. She's written a couple of books (that I know of) and there's a link to her blog on this page. I admire her honesty and appreciate the laugh-out-loud moments she's written about. Even though my experience as a mommy so far has been different in many ways, I can relate to a lot of what's she's written about. Like calling her daughter The Dictator. I prefer to call Ian the Boss, not because he resembles Bruce Springstein but because it's gentler than a dictator. He seems to request, rather than demand; of course that may be because he's not talking yet. In any case the Boss he is.
I took the Boss out Christmas shopping today. Completely different experience than going it alone. Everywhere I looked I saw something to buy him. Like he'll really care if I get him every Fisher-Price age-appropriate toy on the shelf. Last week, I bought him a set of plastic blocks and a bin with a lid that has the same shape as the blocks, so he can learn shapes. I swear, he spent more time playing with the box it came in. Hmm, maybe I'll put the blocks back in the box and re-wrap it for Christmas. He won't remember them by then...
I even looked forward to when I would be able to actually get the older toys. For example, I never in my life owned Candyland, but I thought about the day I would get to play it with the Boss. I don't even know the rules for Candyland. And don't get me started about how much fun it'll be when he finally has the manual dexterity for video games. If I had my way, his first word would be "Mama" of course, followed by "Mario" or "Link."
All in all, I showed considerable restraint. I only bought him one toy. But there's still 24 more days to go. I'm not making any promises that I won't go overboard.

Goodbye, My Friend

This is a picture of my kitty, Asia, the evening before I took her to the vet for the last time. Her cancer got worse, and I realized that I would be doing her a better favour by letting her go peacefully rather than keeping her alive. Asia died the way I think she would have wanted, in my arms, purring until the very end.
It's strange to look outside on the deck and not see her sleeping on the rail. I still expect to see her come into the kitchen when I'm making my coffee. But now I can talk about her without wanting to cry, and I remember all of the good times we had.

My kitty has cancer

Well, I'm sad to report that my 14-year old cat, Asia, has cancer. It all started a few weeks ago when she started to smell bad. I thought maybe she wasn't cleaning herself properly because she's old, and I was distracted with caring for my baby. She steadily smelled worse and worse, until you could smell her from about 5 feet away. Reluctantly, I called the vet(reluctant because I knew it would cost at least $200 just to bring her in). In the two days between making the appointment and bringing Asia in, she stopped smelling bad. Just like that. Still, I thought the vet should see her. I was thinking maybe she had a tooth infection that was resolving on its own.
Well, one week, two visits, and nearly $800 later, I have confirmation that it is not just an infection. And there is not really anything I can do besides keep her comfortable. So, she'll be getting Fentanyl patches(too bad I can't steal those from work!), and as long as she seems to be coping, we'll keep her at home.
I know that some of you will think this is horrible, but I'm a bit releived that it's not a tooth infection. Yes, that would have been treatable, but it would have cost another $500-900 to treat, and we simply don't have the money. I'm already facing the possibility that I will have to return to work early, which also makes me sad because I love being home with my baby. If we had to come up with the money to treat Asia, I would probably have to return to work even earlier.
On the other hand, I am sad that I'm facing the loss of my Asia, who has been with me for over 11 years, through 6 years of university, 9 houses, and 2 provinces. She was my baby long before Ian, and I will miss her greatly when she's gone.

I'm back and other matters

Okay, so I haven't posted all summer and it's September(already?) and I'm officially a bad girl. It's been a busy summer; my sister came to visit and she didn't post anything either...
So Baby Ian's almost four months old now and is a totally normal baby. He's still a bit small for his age, but to me he's huge(and heavy!). And so far I've been lucky because all the comments I've received in public have been positive; for example, "What a cutie!", "What beautiful blue eyes!", etc. I've even had a elderly couple approach while I was breastfeeding in a mall. But today, while in line at the Tim's, this woman walked by and muttered just loudly enough for me to hear, "No hat, no nuthin". I was too stunned to say anything before she left, but I think I gave her a dirty look. She was probably forty, but she looked older, and definitely not attractive, in my oh-so-biased opinion. And it was cloudy and spitting outside, but it was certainly not very cold. And Ian did have a warm fuzzy blanket on his lap.
So on the drive home, I'm fuming, just a bit. And feeling a bit guilty. Should I have put a hat on Ian? And how dare she judge me, the old cow! I know I shouldn't let her ignorant comment get to me, but it does. Just a bit. So I thought I'd share it, and get it out of my system.

Another first

So I breastfed Ian for the first time in public yesterday. I must say it was a bit of a humbling experience. I am not a shy person (or a very modest one) by any stretch of the imagination, but I was surprised to find that I was nervous about peeling off my top in a restaurant. Before I had Ian, I had always said that I would have no problem breastfeeding in public, and I have to admit to being a bit judgmental about those that were shy. But, like many things, it's completely different in reality. I wasn't concerned so much about exposing myself, but I was a bit worried that someone would say something negative. I had a receiving blanket to cover up, and I kept checking to make sure it was in place. Of course it was a bit of a juggle to get Ian latched while keeping the blanket in place, and then to hold him up without a pillow. I ended up propping him against the table! Ian, bless his soul, was completely unaware that anything different was going on, and ate his lunch like a pro.
I'm sure it's one of those things that will get easier with time. I bet after a couple more outings, I'll just whip those puppies out whenever Ian get hungry. But now that I've experienced public breastfeeding, I will definitely be more sympathetic when another mother expresses concern about it.

My New Arrival

I would like to announce the new arrival of my son (how weird to say that!),Ian Alan Overall, born May 27, 2007 at 11:17 am. Weight 2385 g (5 lb, 4 oz.). It's hard to believe that I've been home from the hospital for more than a week, and Ian's almost two weeks old. I promise to post his birth story soon (just a warning, though, it's a long story). In the meantime, let me say that we are both doing very well. Ian is breastfeeding like a pro and is quickly catching up in weight, which is a huge relief since he was born so small, and at his check-up and weigh-in last Monday, he had only gained a very modest 15 g, since we were discharged from the hospital the previous Thursday.
Since we got home, Ian took to breastfeeding like a fish to water, so I didn't supplement with formula like I was told (anyone who knows me knows my general feelings about formula; in short, I hate it). He slept well, woke up on his own every 2-3 hours, and had a wet and/or dirty diaper when I changed it after every feeding. Those first days home we settled into a routine: feed, diaper change, sleep, repeat. It wan't exciting, but we had more than enough excitement for a long time. Best of all, I got to hold Ian all the time, and I felt like I was getting the hang of this parenting thing.
When we went to the doctor's that Monday, I was sure he would have put on weight. When he put on such a small amount of weight, I was disappointed, but more than that, I thought I was failing as a mother. I have never felt so incompetent in my life, not even when nursing school was at its worst. The words "failure to thrive" were like an invisible neon sign in front of me, and I had visions of Ian being taken back to the special care nursery and hooked up to IV's and feeding tubes. I know it sounds overdramatic, but I cannot describe the devastation I felt. Compounding it was the fact that the doctor told me to only breastfeed for 10 minutes at at time because it was too tiring for him, and to supplement the rest of the feed with either formula or expressed breastmilk. I left the office in tears, and spent most of the rest of that afternoon crying. I didn't want to have to breastfeed and pump, bacause it was time-consuming and physically exhausting, but I refused to give Ian formula. So, with a feeling of resignation, I rented a breastpump, and started pumping after each feed during the day. I still fed Ian on the breast as long as he wanted, though. I did a bunch of Internet research and found nothing to indicate that breastfeeding was more tiring than botttlefeeding. In fact, the La Leche League site stated that bottlefeeding was more stressful.
The next day, I did more of the same. I talked to my mom, who was wonderfully indignant about what the doctor said, and, more importantly, told me I was doing a good job. I really needed to hear some words of encouragement. John, of course told me I was an excellent mother, but it was good to hear it from someone else. By Wednesday afternoon, when the public health nursse came to visit, I was shaking. She brought a scale with her, so I could see if Ian had put on any weight. Imagine my surprise and delight that he put on 85 g! The expected weight gain for a normal newborn is 15 to 30 g per day, so this was more than I could have hoped for; I actually did a happy dance! It also really made me feel that my decision to breastfeed was the right one. Finally, I could trust my own judgment again.
Today I went to the doctor's and Ian's put on another 55 g. I didn't tell the doctor that I haven't pumped since Wednesday and Ian breastfeeds as long as he wants; that's my little secret. I have another appointment next week; I expect Ian will continue to thrive and grow. In the meantime, I'll continue to enjoy every minute with my little angel. And I'll trust in my own ability to do what's right for myself and my family.