Cycle Baby

March 12, 2016

Dear Baby,

Yesterday I bit the bullet and went by myself (with you) to a new mom and baby workout class. I was sceptical as the last attempt I made at working out with you was a total disaster and resulted in me sitting on a floor feeding you for 50% of the class and then the other 50% dangling toys in your face so you would be entertained. 

If that was a “good workout” I would be a fucking body builder by now. 

I had heard some really good things about this particular class and since for me, it seems pretty damn near impossible to go to the gym once you are asleep (because WHO WANTS TO WORK OUT WHEN THE VOICE IS ON???) I thought that we would give it a whirl. Pun intended. 

Spoiler alert: the class was amaze balls. 
It was hard and it was fast and although you actually fell asleep for most of it, it was stimulating for the babies and best of all, they let the mamas work out and the instructor took care of the babies. 

Win. Win. 
Everyone was happy. Babies were happy being picked up and bounced and smiled at when needed. Moms were happy to have 60 minutes to work on that bikini body (haha. Obviously kidding onesie body at best- amiright???). 

Actually, the real treat was that the babies got to watch their mamas do something important- take care of themselves and their mind/body. 

I’m no expert but I think that having your baby in a fun, new environment where they get to watch you do something productive for yourself is probably a great way to begin teaching them about all those wonderful things like self worth, self esteem and confidence. It also allows them to see mom as someone who has a great and busy life outside of the times she spends making funny noises and faces at baby. 

Win. Win. 

So Baby, today’s lesson is that when you have something that you want to do but can’t get it done the traditional way- get creative. 

I wanted to work out, couldn’t bring you to the gym with me and couldn’t manage going after putting you to bed so I got creative and went to this class. Sure, it’s not like I invented the class but I tried it and found that it worked. 

In life, you may have expectations of how things will go but should you ever hit a road block just know that if you search you will find a new, different and maybe even better way to achieve your goals. 

In the meantime, just going to try and figure out how to carry you around all day with this SUPER SORE body of mine. TGIS



Cycle Baby

Thunder Cloud Baby Week

March 11, 2016

Dear Baby,

Fucking Wonder Weeks. Please be more accurate in telling me when my baby is going to be “fussy.”

So quaint. My baby is just “fussy.” Sure, you screamed so loud I actually thought you were going to barf while you stared at me daring me to try one more comforting tactic but it’s just so “fussy.”

Yes, I am sitting in a chair for 2 hours while you sleep on me because I am genuinely scared to put you in your crib and accidentally rouse you/ unleash the beast. No big deal. I didn’t have anything to do this morning anyways. Who needs a clean house or a sane mom? 

Fussy- ness. 

Predictable. Manageable. Terrible. 

The light at the end of our tunnel is that I know now like never before that this “fussy” behaviour means a change is a coming. 

Round one happened a few weeks ago. In what felt like a split second your cries went from normal baby shit to blood curling, demon- possessed craziness. I was all like, why is our precious little baby losing her shit? How do these sounds even come from such a usually happy and even- keeled person?

It lasted one week and then, like magic you learned how to roll from your back to your front and the crying stopped. 

In its place came a sequence of events that led to you never being able to be left alone on the floor again. 

You rolled to your side and seemed shocked, you rolled to your side tummy and seemed shocked and then you rolled right over and seemed shocked-est. The next day you rolled as of you had had this skill from birth and spent your whole day rolling around the house. By day 3 you were rolling in your sleep and on day four you actively rolled onto your stomach to sleep when I put you down. 

And with that, a mobile baby you became. 

You have been moving and shaking ever since and your dad and I watch in amazement and delight as you navigate your way around your playmat and crib. Your dad woke me up in the middle of the night last week to show me how much you were moving around on the monitor (and then he learned the valuable lesson of “never wake a sleeping mama”).

So when yesterday those exorcist cries stated again I was all like, another change must be coming. 

You have given me some hints as to what the change might be and I can’t wait to find out. 

So Baby, in the meantime I think it’s important to reiterate a lesson that will really be touched on many times in our lives (and this blog), the light at the end of the tunnel. 

There is always one if you look for it and no matter how much you are certain that you are in the worst possible situation (or just listening to the worst possible cries), there will come and end and everything will get better and stronger. 

And if you get trapped in the tunnel, don’t worry. I can assure you that your pipes are loud enough that I will be able to hear you and find you. 



Thunder Cloud Baby Week

Baby Poo of Past and Present

March 10, 2016

Dear Baby,

You are such a great eater! I must say I am by no means surprised that you love eating and sleeping. It makes me feel like you are def my baby even though your red/ blond hair and blue eyes suggest otherwise (kidding, I hope). 

You have literally eaten your way through our fridge and enjoyed foods like; sweet potato, squash, cauliflower, zucchini, oatmeal, apples, avocado and banana. Yesterday you even had chicken. 

Pretty much the only food you wouldn’t touch was carrots which is so random. We will have to try it again. 

The inevitable result of all this great eating is new poo. I was told to expect it, warned that it would come and yet when it did, I was shocked. 

Baby poo is interesting to begin with. It starts out looking like watery mustard and sort of darkens and gets a green hue to it as breastfeeding progresses. I have no idea what formula poo looks like so ifs the speak to it it I imagine it is equally liquidy. Breast milk poo is usually the texture of watery mucus or runny egg whites if we want to be less disgusting. 

And then, with one bit of solid food came real human poo. I opened the diaper and voila, a formed blob of sweet potato laced poo. It’s BANANAS. Literally. 

I wish I was not that mom but I fucking LOVE your poos. I eagerly await them and then check them out rigorously to see what they contain. Am I a revolting person? Yes. But what I do in the privacy of my home is no ones business (except everyone reading because I just shared on this public forum). 

Anywho, your poo. It’s awesome. 

What great lesson comes from this? 

Everybody poos?

Enjoy your poo?

It’s totally ok to take pictures of really interesting poos and send them to people to see?

All of the above?

I’m done. 



Baby Poo of Past and Present

Baby One More Time

March 9, 2016

Dear Baby,

In the past 3 days since I last reported that you were getting better, you got sick again. It’s crazy because if I had a .2 fever I probably wouldn’t even know. When we saw that you did, we went into full panic mode. We packed you up, bundled you tight and went to the doctor for the THIRD TIME IN 5 DAYS!!!

The good news is that you are fine. You just had a lingering cold. The bad news is that you have this stupid lingering cold. 

Have you ever sucked out the snot from another person’s nose? It’s so gross/ on par amazing with popping a pimple. You don’t want to do it, you almost barf doing it and then you can’t stop thinking about what happened when you did it. Snot is the same. Slightly less satisfying. 

Anyways if I haven’t been clear, baby colds are the worst. 

Anyways, by round 3 of our doctor visit I was starting to feel like a really typical overreacting first time parent. Like, am I going to be that person who rushed you to seek medical attention every time you sneeze? Maybe. Especially if your super hypochondriact dad has any say but I have to embrace the crazy, don’t I?

My feeling is this. If 2 people look at you and one thinks you need a doctor, we go. There’s just no fucking around with your physical health or otherwise. 

And that, Baby, brings me to today’s thoughts. You can never be too careful and you must always be your own best advocate. Here’s the thing- after you grow up and can make your own decisions you will be responsible for your own care. You will have to advocate for how you feel and what you need. 

I want to make sure you never feel embarrassed or apprehensive about double or even triple checking something that you are not sure about. There is just no suck thing as too cautious when it comes to taking care of you. For now, since you can’t talk and 100% of your care is on our hands, we will be over cautious for you but soon enough, that will be your weight to carry. 

So know yourself, love yourself and don’t ever hesitate to ask again and again if something doesn’t feel right to you. There are no stupid questions and no restrictions to seeking help for anything you need. 

In the meantime, Baby get better or prepare to feel the suction of your nose sucky thing again this afternoon. 



Baby One More Time

Little Baby Drama

March 6, 2016

Dear Baby,

So I’m happy to say that your first cold is wrapping itself up (poo poo poo). It was a long week and you were such a trooper. On the other hand my cold has gotten a bit worse but as usual no one really cares about me. I don’t even really care about me as long as you are feeling good. 

At the lowest low we took you to the doctor. It’s a weird thing because on the one hand, my mother intuition assured me that it was just a cold but on the other hand, what if it was more? I couldn’t handle the thought of you being super sick and me being dismissive (plus your dad is a full blown hypochondriac) so off we went. 

Of course, it was just a cold but we had to weigh you while we were there and Baby, you are so tiny! You weighed 10 pounds with your clothes on. You are almost 6 months old and you weigh as much as most baby’s do in their first month of life. 

I know babies that were born at close to 10 pounds and here you are, the tiniest peanut. You look like a very alert and capable newborn. 

To be honest, it has never bothered me. Sure, I have to hear “she’s so small” from literally everyone we meet but whatever. I’m weak so that you are small works well with lifting you. I find it adorable that you are so petit and we have actually made the best use of baby clothes in the history of mankind. 

You are still rocking some newborn size gear. That’s 5.5 months of wear. Unheard of. Mind you, it will be a while before you fit into all that 6 month and up clothing that you have but it can just wait. 

So anyways, you get weighed and put on your growth chart and we find that you are a pound off from where you should be (in the whopping 3rd percentile category). Doctor says you should def gain a pound this month or she will refer us to a specialist to make sure you are ok. 

The tests you would go through are labeled “failure to thrive.” Please be more fucking ominous. 

She recommended feeding you more and possibly supplementing you with some formula. 

Here are the two things I have been thinking. 

1. Failure to thrive has to be the worst fucking name for a series of tests ever. Plus, how can you be failing to thrive? You have (thankfully) done everything a baby should do just in your own tiny way. 

They really have to think about the names of these tests. Like, way to fear monger. How about “tests to make sure your baby is absorbing her nutrients” or “tests to ensure that your baby’s gastro system is ok” or “tests to confirm that she is in fact just a small baby.”

Fuck you, failure to thrive. 

2. Formula is a really touchy subject for a mom who has spent 5.5 months agonizing over breast feeding. I personally don’t give a shit how you feed your babe. It’s all the same to me. I was formula fed and ended up just fine. BUT. I have spent too much fucking time and effort on breastfeeding to be told that I am not doing a good enough job. Literal blood sweat and tears. Listen, at the end of the day Baby, I do what is best for you but I’ll be damned if I don’t find the suggestion to be a personal attack. 

Plus, the day I finally decided to try formula for you I went to Whole Foods. They carry one formula and one formula only. I felt like the organic hemp mama society was shaming me for even considering formula by having such sparse availability. Dramatic? Yes. True? Probs not. Didn’t buy the formula? Obviously. 

So here’s the lesson today. Don’t go to the doctor when you are sick. JUST KIDDING. PLEASE DONT DO THAT. 

The lesson is that things sometimes don’t go as planned. You can make a million plans and calculate every move but life has a funny way of just dumping a load of formula on your lap no matter what you do. 

So be flexible and know that there are 100 great ways to achieve any great goal and trying new things and different paths is sometimes great (even if you fucking slave at making the first thing work and totally sacrifice your boobs forever). 

So in he words of Seymore when he bled for his precious plant, “please, grow for me.”



Little Baby Drama

Poor Sick Baby pt. 2

March 3, 2016

Dear Baby,

So you woke up this morning still sick coupling your crazy snot nose with a wicked cough. It’s honestly hard to believe that you have that much shit in your face. Your face is the size of a pea and I’m pretty sure you have snotted out 10 peas worth of boogers. 

It’s basically impossible to be a germaphobe when you have a sick baby. You sneeze, cough and spit on my face every 2 seconds and everything you touch gets gooey. You remind me of Slimer from Ghostbusters. Actually, that’s a perfect comparison. You look and act exactly like Slimer. 

Who you gonna call…. booger busters (aka your mom who is still also sick but doesn’t go ahead and sneeze in your mouth- it’s called manners, Baby). 

It’s really hard having you feeling sick. It’s hard to watch your poor little face slightly swollen from your tearing eyes and snotty nose (Slimer), it’s hard to listen to your laboured snotty breathing and wet cough (Slimer), and it’s hard to see you exhausted and trying to sleep but failing because you can’t breath properly.

It’s so hard in fact that it brought up the first fight your dad and I have had in a long time. 

Last night after being put to bed you woke up about 2 hours later crying and snotting. We came up to get you, suck up your boogers and nurse you back to sleep (fuck you, baby books- I do what I want). An hour later I was still rocking you and trying to help you fall back asleep. 

On the one hand, I would rock you forever if it would help you feel more comfortable. On the other hand, after an hour of it with the music of you crying and snorting at me- I was spent. I hate that moment with you when I feel my patience dwindling. It annoys me that I can’t be a more calm and collected person. 

When I lose patience I have to remind myself that you are a helpless little baby and not a SMALL DEMON CHILD SENT HERE TO DESTROY ME. 

In another world this would be the point that I would take a deep breath and check myself. I would look down at you and be reminded that there is nothing to be annoyed about and that another hour or several hours of rocking you is totally fine/ worth it. 

In this world it is in this moment that your dad ALWAYS decides to come in. I’m on the cusp of a reset and I see the door slowly opening and I know that I am going to just fucking kill him. 

In he came last night and it went something like this:

He asks me if you are ok. I don’t fucking know because I am just a frazzled mom but I tell him that I think you are ok and you just need to sleep. I lament that I really don’t want to have a night where I wake up with you crying every hour and he says “but we are doing it for her” (her being you, Baby). 



I fucking hate this response. Who else would I be waking up for? Who else would I spend 2 days at home nonstop holding? Who else would I miss eating, sleeping and bathroom ing for? 

In saying this he is shaming me. Like, reminding me that I can’t complain at all because I should be a better person/ mother than one who bitches about waking up in the middle of the night for her poor sick baby. 

I would never sleep again for you. I would literally do anything for you but I’ll be damned if I have to enjoy it. Who would? Name me one person who would be all like “YES! I love waking up in the middle of the night to go and nurse/ attend to my sick kid.” Offer me a sundae and pony rides and I still wouldn’t want to wake up. 

Anyways, this interaction obviously resulted in me telling him to get the fuck out which is NEVER what you should say to someone you love (or anyone) and him doing as I requested. This was kind of a “cut off your nose to spite your face” moment because then I was left alone with you crying again. 

He ended up coming back to our rescue (because he is an awesome man and father), you fell asleep and after all that- stayed asleep for the rest of the night. 

You woke up like a little goopy angel and now here we are- you asleep on me and me venting to the blog-o-sphere (woah, blog-o-sphere. Lame, mom). 

What’s the lesson we can learn from this? There must be something valuable here today for me to impart on you. 



Take care of yourself because being sick SUCKS. Seriously, take heed when I tell you to wear a scarf or put on a jacket or some other shit like that. You’ll be all like, whatever mom a jacket makes my super sweet crop top look fucking stupid and I’ll be all like, crop tops are fucking stupid (slash so awesome and I wish I could still wear them- but by then I’ll be more crotchety about fashion). And you’ll storm out of the house in your crop top sans jacket and come home with a cold and we’ll be back to this. 

And as much as I love taking care of you I love being with a fully happy and healthy you even more. 

So just wear your jacket, ok? And always drink water and don’t touch subway poles and wash your hands before you eat and don’t kiss sick people and take a vitamin. 




Poor Sick Baby pt. 2

Poor Sick Baby

March 2, 2016

Dear Baby,

It’s MARCH!!! Spring is just around the corner and I can all but feel the warm weather coming our way. You get to play in a park so soon- you have no idea how awesome that will be. But for now, there is 25cm of snow outside the door and the ups and downs in temperature (hello to our 10 degree Sunday) have had the inevitable effect of making everyone and their mothers totally sick.

We went to play groups and music classes all last week with your snot- faced friends and it was only a matter of time before you, Ms. I-stick-everything-in-my-mouth caught what they had.

So when you started sneezing more than usual and looking overall droopy and tired, I knew we had entered the realm of the dreaded first cold.

So far, it has been pretty hard- for me. You don’t even seem to really know what is going on and have been smiling and playing as usual. I have been dying inside every time you cough or sneeze or tear or even look a tiny bit uncomfortable. Basically, if you blink in a way that I feel is not normal right now, I feel like crying. It’s a bit overbearing- I know.

In the meantime, I am sick too and your dad is sick three and in order of importance I rank you, then you and you. I would be sick for days if you could be better immediatly- and I HATE being sick.

In the long laundry list of horrors that come with you being sick I am remiss to include; 

1. A rectal temperature. It’s exactly what it sounds like. I’m sorry. It’s happened to the best us and to my knowledge, no permanent mental scaring comes from it.

2. The snot suck thing. Yes, Baby I have actually stuck a tube into your nose and sucked the snot out so you could breath easier. Remember that fact when you have an urge to tell me to fuck off one time- k?

3. Choking you with infant Tylenol. Dear Tylenol instructions- how does one “gently” shoot a syringe full of liquid? It shoots but there is nothing gentle about it. So sorry about that too. 

4. The goo. Babes, I must tell you that you have liquid coming out of all parts of your face. It’s a gooey mess and instead of thanking me each time I wipe it up, you scream. If I didn’t know better I would assume you like being covered in mucus. 

5. No put downs. Not a one. No sir. You have been on me all day. ALL DAY. this includes bathroom breaks, naps and everything in between. I’m still not wearing a bra and it’s past 3pm. 

But, like I said, I would do anything o make you feel better so all of the above mentioned things don’t seem like such a big deal to me. They are just gross.  

Here is the takeaway- be nice to your mom, Baby. Take care of me when I am old and gross because I took care of you when you were young and gross. You have peed on me twice today and I still love you unconditionally so extend me the same love (slash I hope I never pee myself in old age).

Sending you all the healthy vibes I can while you sleep on me again (whatever, I fucking LOVE it- the cuddles and sleeping, not the cold obviously).



Poor Sick Baby