Vancouver 2010!

It's a very exciting time to be living in Vancouver. The Olympics will be here soon! In fact, the sports arena across the street from us has been preparing for months. It's going to be the site for women's hockey. They've been doing landscaping work, adding artistic structures and tearing up a nearby field. We're not sure what they're going to do with that area, but I heard it may be turned into outdoor skating rinks (maybe for warmups?). That's one reason why I'm sad we're moving this week. It would be fun having an Olympic event in my front yard! Well, okay, the traffic would be horrible and we probably wouldn't be able to afford going to any of the events, but I'm sure it would still be exciting. Oh well. Maybe we can come back to visit.

Piper with the Olympic mascots. I think they scared her a little, but that was probably because they towered over her.


Go Canada! (Now we just need a U.S.A. bear)

Ho, ho! Uh oh.

We were at the mall the other day doing a little bit of Christmas shopping when who should appear but Santa and Mrs. Claus! The jolly - and very authentic-looking - Mr. and Mrs. Claus even came over to say hello to our little Piper girl. But surprise, surprise, Piper was none too pleased by their presence. I suspected as much. Several months ago, a very kind Jamaican man came over to say hello to us. Piper FREAKED out. He was the nicest man, but he did have a rather huge beard and wild and crazy dreadlocks. Then, a few days later, a very gentle old man with a white beard (who looked a lot like Santa Claus) approached her to say hello. FREAKED OUT once again. I remember thinking, Uh oh, this doesn't bode well for Ol' St. Nick. It seems she has an aversion to beards!

So, although it would be very cute to get her photo taken with Santa on her first Christmas, I think we may forgo that "pleasure" and appreciate him from a distance. Although, aren't those photos of screaming babies on Santa's lap sort of cute? No, no, I won't subject her (or Santa) to that distress, even if it would make a very memorable photo. Maybe someday, after she realizes Santa's not such a scary guy.

Which brings me to another issue. What does your family do (or plan to do) about the Santa Claus myth? Jeremy and I have been discussing how we're going to handle this issue once Piper's older. When I was a child, I remember believing Santa Claus was real, and I don't think my parents ever told us otherwise, until we came right out and asked them. I don't even remember finding out he wasn't real. So either I figured it out on my own or they came right out and told me (or maybe it was my sister, who also took it upon herself to enlighten me about "the birds and the bees" - thanks, Amanda); either way, it must not have been a traumatizing experience. I don't remember feeling lied to or confused or upset. Jeremy doesn't remember ever believing in Santa, although there were always gifts from Santa under the tree. Santa was more of a "wink, wink" character in his family.

I'm not sure what we're going to do about it. I would never want there to be so much excitement about Santa that the significance of Christ is lost; nor would I want our children to feel "lied to" about the Santa myth. But, looking back at my own childhood, I think my parents found a way to highlight the true purpose and "Hero" of Christmas (Jesus) while also allowing us to enjoy the fairy tale of Santa. But maybe it's something we should just "play pretend" with, sort of a Santa-isn't-real-but-let's-pretend approach. Of course that brings up the challenge of keeping our kids from ruining other kids' belief in Santa. Wow, this issue is even bigger than I thought! At least we have another year to plan what our approach will be.

What did your parents do, and what do you plan to do with your kids?

Peanut butter tears

Okay, I just cried while watching a peanut butter commercial. It's that one where the mom sends a care package to her daughter in college. And the daughter's calling home to thank her mom while munching on the peanut butter. And she's saying, "I love you, Mom," and the mom is tearing up and saying she loves her daughter, too. Sniff! I started picturing Piper going off to college and how much I'll miss her, and how I'll probably send her care packages and cry on the phone when she calls me. How will my heart stand it? She better not get married and move to another country and have babies. Oh wait. I did that to my mom. And wait. She did that to her mom, too. Is this what they call a generational curse? Piper must break the cycle. She will get married and have babies, but she'll buy the house next door and let me visit her every day. Okay, people, that's the plan.

Why we rock

The lights are out, we sit, we rock. My little one and me. I kiss her velvety head and breathe her sweet baby smell. She feels so big in my arms, her legs stretched fully across my lap, curving round. Heavenly-soft baby skin from curled toes to flushed cheek.

I think of my mother. Her cheek is soft, too. I used to love stroking her cheek. She was my own, my world, my safe place, once upon a time. I think of her enveloping love, and how I used to believe she could fix anything: skinned knee, torn jeans, broken heart. She might not have been able to fix everything, but she never failed. She was mine, and I was hers, and I flourished beneath the sunlight of her love.

A tiny hand reaches up, grabs my fingers, holds on tight. Sleepy face still tucked against my neck. She sighs.

I can hardly believe I'm going to be her mother, her safe place, her trust. It's hard to believe I am, I will be, all those things to my dear little one. The way I felt about my mom, she will feel about me. I hope I can be the mom my mother was, and is, to me.

My heart can barely grasp the way she loves me now. Little girl eyes follow me around, little girl arms reach up to hold me tight. Her face creases into joy-filled smiles. What an honor to be loved so wholly, this - even after a lifetime of love already.

I hold her tighter, we rock, we breathe, together.

She was born and I loved her,
and loved her,
and loved her.
Does love get bigger than this?

Let's dance, let's laugh, let's fall over

Today is Piper's 10-month birthday! We've now hit the double digits, and it feels like a huge difference. In my head, she's not just 10 months old, she's ALMOST ONE YEAR OLD! Now that's a crazy thought, especially when I think about how quickly the next few months will fly by.

Right now we're in the midst of packing, then moving, unpacking, traveling to the States for my sister's wedding, then Christmas, then, then . . . it will be January and my maternity leave will be over and a new life for all of us will begin.

But for now, my little buddy and I are enjoying snuggles in the rocker, lazy afternoons rolling around on the carpet, playdates with friends, visits to the library, lunch dates with Daddy - and lots and lots of laughter.

Could anything be better than dancing with Daddy?



(Don't worry. No babies were harmed in the making of this video. She was still laughing when I went to pick her up. Notice the Cheerio that came flying out of her mouth? Guess it's better than milk spraying out her nose.)

Aunt Flo

Before I begin this post, a small note to the very few male readers I have. This post is guaranteed to include references to what we women call "Aunt Flo," the "Crimson Tide," our "little friend," our "monthly visitor," - okay, already . . . my PERIOD! Therefore, consider yourself warned. If you choose to read any further, it's at risk to your sensitive manly feelings.

Therefore, moving on. Ladies, it has been 19 - NINETEEN, I tell you! - beautiful months that I have lived every woman's dream: a 19-month hiatus from my period! Granted, I had to endure the general torture and ickiness of labor and post-labor bleeding, plus the hormonal rollercoaster of pregnancy and post-partum depression, but putting those minor (ahem!) inconveniences aside, I have been a happy woman. Seriously, it was simply lovely, and so freeing, to never have to remember to pack a tampon or have a pad handy. To never have to swallow a bottle of Advil to ease the agony of cramps, to never deal with the bloating and "ugly days" of my period - it was like being freed from a prison I'd been stuck in since the beginning of puberty.

You may ask yourself what kind of box I've been living in my entire life when you hear this next comment, but the truth is, I didn't know that after you have a baby, if you're able to nurse (especially if you do so exclusively), you might not get your period back for a while. When the doctor told me this at Piper's two-month visit, it was like the doors of heaven had opened up and little angel fairies floated down to hand me the biggest gift known to womankind. I was like, Wha?????? (picture Jeremy having to hoist Julie's jaw up off the floor). The doctor said it wasn't guaranteed, and she didn't how long it might take to come back, but even the possibility of living period-free for another few months sounded wonderful.

Well, ladies, let me tell you, it has been a wonderful (almost) 10 months since Piper's birth, and yes, yes, today "Aunt Flo" made her first appearance. I would be sad about it, except that I'm simply grateful "she" held off for so long. I had no idea I might be able to go this long without my little friend. It's a good thing I had a few sad little lonely pads stuck in the back of my bathroom cabinet. I had almost forgotten I would need them again.

I suppose this is also a lesson to all of us new moms and moms-to-be: the old wives' tale that you can't get pregnant while you're nursing - well, don't believe it! Aunt Flo and her sidekick, Sister Ovulation, can sneak up on you when you least expect it.

A Mother's Guide to Grocery Shopping

Today I went to the grocery store. Sounds simple enough, right? A year ago, this would have been a cinch - an annoyance, but a cinch. But today . . . it takes planning, perseverance, patience - all kinds of "p" words!

I have decided to compose a checklist.

Part I: Prepping for the trip
As soon as baby wakes from nap, begin immediate preparations (because, this will be a lengthy outing and you don't want to risk a tired/hungry/cranky baby meltdown). Feed and/or nurse baby. Make sure you pee and look somewhat presentable. (Remember: random, forgotten hair clips and bra-less, pajama-pant outfits do not fall within the realm of "presentable.") Properly clothe and bundle baby - don't forget shoes that won't fall off. Remember to pack diaper bag; don't forget extra diapers, a change of clothes, snacks, toys, pacifier, and Tylenol (for you, of course). Also, don't forget cell phone or wallet. Wallet - yeah, that's a big one. Try to be a good "earth-friendly citizen" and remember cloth bags for groceries. Speaking of which, make sure to have pre-planned grocery list in pocket; otherwise, lengthy outing could turn into dangerously long outing as Mommy wanders hopelessly around store, trying to remember everything she needs. Lastly, remember baby carrier. Now, try to leave the house without dropping or forgetting above items, and, mostly importantly, don't forget baby.

Part II: Grocery shopping
Drive to store, preferably one that is very close. Strap baby into carrier, stow wallet and keys somewhere on your immediate person (if in Canada, grab quarter for the buggy). Wrangle buggy free and try to maneuver into store without squishing baby between you and buggy. Gather items from list; try not to stoop too low or reach too high - again, so as not to squish baby (remember: not squishing baby is your main objective on this mission). Once buggy is full, wait in cashier line for an eternity. Respond politely to others in line wanting your baby to smile or wave at them, answer the usual questions (baby's name, age, etc.), try not to be offended when they call her a "he" and try not to stare at tabloid magazines featuring close-up shots of celebrity cellulite. Unload groceries onto conveyor belt (remember all non-squishing guidelines), (if at Superstore, bag your own darn groceries), deposit full bags back into cart, pay cashier, load groceries into trunk, return buggy (don't forget your precious quarter, which you'll hunt frantically for the next time you shop). Unstrap baby, place her in car seat, drive home. Try not to beat head on steering wheel when baby's frustrated cries drive you to the point of tailgating old ladies who have the nerve to drive the legal speed limit.

Part III: The grand finale
(The grand finale will vary for mothers, depending on their parking situation. Personally, this is the part that makes me dream of living in the suburbs, where affordably-priced houses have real garages that lead directly into nice little kitchens. Our current home is on a street that offers no free parking. We pay to use an underground garage, but it's not attached to our building.) Therefore, since this is my unfortunate list . . . upon arriving home, drive down into garage, load up baby, diaper bag and as many grocery bags as you can carry. If your superhuman mom-strength gives out at any point, remember to drop anything BUT the baby. A smashed watermelon and squished loaf of bread are much better alternatives. Hoist yourself and all of said items up huge flight of stairs, try to banish all thoughts of accidentally falling down concrete staircase, walk through apartment complex, unlock outer door, walk down flight of stairs and unlock apartment door. When you have a large load of groceries, either leave all non-refrigerated/non-frozen groceries in the car for a later pickup (preferably, to be carried up by strong, able-bodied husband upon his arrival home), or pull up in front of building, park illegally, put baby in carrier, make trips back and forth from car to door (don't forget to pray you don't get a parking ticket), load baby back into car seat, drive to garage, park, unstrap baby, walk home.

Congratulations, you have now completed your mission. And it only took five hours, three bruises, one strained back and a (literally and figuratively) pooped baby. Next mission: stretching groceries for as long as they can possibly last (which may include dinners of potato chips, cottage cheese and olives).