How Many Times is Too Many Times to Check on your Sleeping Baby.

May 29, 2016

Dear Baby,

The answer is that there is NO SUCH THING AS TOO MANY TIMES. You will only know how much someone watched you sleep when you become a parent and find yourself casually checking to see your baby breathing or frantically taking their temperature mid-sleep.

Baby, in the aftermath of your hot mess heat rash, you got sick. It started with an innocent sneezing fit, escalated into a fever and then carried on for 2 days culminating in tonight’s super high fever. What is scarier than my sick baby? NOTHING. Could it be viral? Teething? Ear infection? WHO KNOWS BECAUSE YOU CAN’T TELL US.

So we read your high temperature, called a doctor friend, called my mom, called another friend who called their doctor friend all of whom assured us that babies get fevers and it is ok. So here is where you want to take in my previous lesson of not googling shit. I felt confident that you were ok and that a good nights sleep was the best remedy and then I Googled. Your dad Googled and collectively we scared ourselves shitless.

The result was a quick time $110 dollar purchase of an ear thermometer (which is not the same as the butt thermometer we had previously employed- and sorry about that). An ear thermometer, unlike a butt one can be used while you sleep. There is no taking off your clothes or making you uncomfortable, just a quick push of a very accurate button to tell us that the fever has come down, that Tylenol did its trick and that we can go back to our regular scheduled breathing- kind of.

Having a sick baby is a lesson in trusting your gut, taking precaution and not Googling anything. Seriously. Don’t do it. I have a friend who once Googled symptoms and then ended up in the hospital claiming he had leukaemia. He didn’t and Google is fucked for that reason.

So tonight’s lesson which I type as I glance furtively at your monitor for the faintest sign of any distress (and it goes without saying that I won’t be sleeping much tonight…) is:

  1. Never Google your medical symptoms. The internet is a scary place full of trolls and crazy people who have had the most insane things happen to them. WebMD is a guarantee that you will be diagnosed as having cancer.
  2. Don’t be ashamed to drop a hundo on a good ear thermometer. Peace of mind has no price tag.
  3. Make friends with people who are doctors and healthcare professionals. Something about the reassuring words of an MD make everything better.
  4. Remember, it takes a village- I called friends, family and neighbours to assist me in determining your needs and I was lucky to have all of them. The group mentality of reassurance made it an easier night and it was comforting to be supported. Get a village behind you, Baby.

In the meantime, gotta go check that temperature again- good thing you are sleeping like a baby.

xo

Mom

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How Many Times is Too Many Times to Check on your Sleeping Baby.

Rash Decisions about the Baby

May 27, 2016

Dear Baby,

And just like that it became ungodly hot outside and we bid farewell to a pretty crap spring season. Summer is here and it is not being shy about sunny days. 

It took one such sunny day for you to get the heat rash of the century. Your soft baby skin went from smooth and sweet to full of small bumps and prickly. It would be sad except that you don’t seem to notice. 

I think at this point it goes without saying that your dad overreacted and got really anal about checking out the rash and then googling the rash and the obsessing about the rash. You’re probably reading this and thinking yup, that’s dad. 

So poor you has a nasty rash and we have spent a day stressing about it while you have been doing your regular baby things like screaming at the floor, eating your toes and banging the baby drum. 

But in this there is a lesson and one that you should learn now- stay the fuck out of the sun. Slather your body in the highest spf possible, get yourself a lame sunhat and some serious UV sunglasses. The sun just fucks you up.

Sure, it may seem really cool to have a tan- when I was a teenager I WENT TO TANNING SALONS. There were actual places you could go to subject yourself to the sun rays but the age spots on my face will tell you about the dark side to my tanned body. 

Lesson: be it wrinkles or rashes, keep your precious skin out of that sun. Tans may seem sexy but they are not. Rashes less so. 

In the meantime got to lather on that SPF 400. 

xo 

Mom

Rash Decisions about the Baby

Post Baby Body, 8 Months Later

May 26, 2016

Dear Baby,

I hate to write this, I really do but in the practice of being honest with you always- I have to tell you that my post baby bod is not what I thought it would be. 

In reality, I don’t know what I thought. Maybe that a lifetime of body issues would suddenly vanish AFTER gaining an extra 30 pounds in my mid thirties after carrying a baby??! I know, very likely. 

I just thought that maybe with you around and with my mature attitude (said the girl who laughs at ANY fart joke), it would all be easier. That I would be able to dress myself and just feel great knowing that I am a mom. Spoiler alert: it isn’t. 

The truth is Baby, that I struggle every day with how to teach you about having a super self esteem and confident body image when I can’t seem to get it together. 

I can tell you this: I know that feeling beautiful comes from the inside but it is super hard to access that inside when your outsides look faintly like a chicken mcnugget. Like, what has happened to my ass and thighs, I often wonder. Knowing that there is no cure for cellulite- is this just the way I am going to look now? 

I guess because I still feel (and act) like I am 20, it’s hard to reconcile that I am in fact 34 and my body has gone through a lo of changes in the past 14 years. 

I am usually thankful that I have the best accessory in the whole world to offset. Who is going to even look at me when I am holding delicious you. 

But the lesson is to try hard to not be hard on yourself. It’s something I am always working on (and usually failing at, but never mind that). At the end of the day we are all going to be old and no one is going to care of you had lumpy legs or rock hard abs. I think it goes without saying that it is what you do and who you are that defines you, not your jean size. I hope that you always feel good and happy in your own skin- even when that skin rebels against you. 

In the meantime, time to get dressed (aka best time of the day- not). 

xo

Mom

Post Baby Body, 8 Months Later

Pasta Sans Baby

May 24, 2016

Dear Baby,

We just finished a pretty epic long weekend and are back to our regular scheduled programming of a weekday. 

The weekend was amazing. The weather was perfect, we finally got our yard together and it is now usable, we saw friends and family, spent so much time having picnics in the park and just overall enjoyed being together as a family (as usual- I’m seriously obsessed with family time).

Sunday night your dad and I went on our first date since Florida approximately 4.5 months ago. 

Now we are not hard done by to spend time together. We actually spend a ton of time together. We stay home a lot and more often have dinner and a relaxing night together on any given weekday. Weekends are spent with friends or family and we have gone out a few times together with friends or seperately so not as if we are holed up at home tearing our hair out but still…

There is something about putting on some makeup and nice shoes and sitting across a nice table together that is unparalleled by any night in. We are definitely more homebody-ish than ever before but in some part of our distant past, we did love to go out. 

Dinner was great. We went to this new Italian place that was gorgeous and yummy. We laughed a lot and had some drinks. It was great. 

The best part though was going for a walk after dinner to nowhere particular down Bloor street. I forgot how much I love just being with your dad, roaming around with no adgenda, no time limit and no reason. Just walking and talking.  

That’s the stuff I guess I miss with your dad. The ability to do something for no reason. Even date night had to be constructed and planned. It’s hard to be casual when you need to get a babysitter, get home for a nap, bring enough food, get the dog walked etc. There is nothing casual about organizing a day or night but the act of walking for no reason was just SO CASUAL. 

There was no plan, no procedure. Just us and the pavement. 

Now Baby, don’t misunderstand me. I would be planned and programmed forever for you. But you will one day see how amazing it is to fall in love with your partner and how sometimes, the best times are the most unassuming and totally unremarkable ones. That walking down a street and reminiscing about places you used to go together can be the most romantic thing. 

And that’s the thing about love Baby, it’s so unremarkable and wonderful. So this is a lesson to not take for granted those times that you spend with the people that you love. Whatever it is, they are moments and memories and all the fancy shit in the world can’t match the simple moments that you spend connecting with the loves of your life. 

In the meantime, I’ll just spend a little more time in here watching you sleep. These are those moments. 

xo

Mom

Pasta Sans Baby

Today I Touched Some Baby Poo. 

May 20, 2016

Dear Baby,

This morning after a great sleep we woke up and went about our regular morning routine. I nurse you, take off your sleep sack and change your diaper before we head downstairs.

Like most mornings you had a nice saucy poo in your diaper. No problem. I got some of it on my finger, wiped it off and went about my business. No problem.

Here’s the thing: that’s fucking weird and gross. How casual I am about having your POO IN MY HAND is really quite astounding.

You’d be all like, Mom- you have to pick up a dog’s poo all the time and baby poo is hardly poo at all. You’d be right but still…

Then I thought about how many times in 8 months I have had poo on me. I can’t count it on both hands. Side note to new mamas: get used to poo, it is a part of your life now. Just one of the more glamorous parts of having a baby.

Anyways, on a somewhat related note, your dad mandolin-ed off a chunk of his finger this week and we had to really bandage that shit up. It was totally gross. I personally found and removed the finger chunk from the mandolin. I cant even.

What am I even bringing the mandolin incident into a post about poo about?

Have some patience, Baby. I’m getting to the point.

Get used to gross human things because they are unavoidable and totally normal. It’s just so lame to be one of those people who can’t deal with body functions and you are way cooler than that. When an emergency strikes (or a poo explosion) you want to be able to jump in and help, not run and barf in the corner.

And honestly, we all have blood, barf, mucus and poo. It’s not that bad. I not saying you should seek out people barfing and just run on in but you will be well served if you keep your squeamishness to super gross things and make room for an acceptance of body stuff. Because in the end. Shit happens.

In the meantime, gotta wash these hands. POOOOOOOO

xo

Mom

Today I Touched Some Baby Poo. 

8 Months- a Roundup

May 18, 2016

Dear Baby,

Can we talk? I mean really talk. Woman to woman. I’m pretty over how fast time is flying by. Can you slow down??? Every single time I think I’ve caught up, I haven’t and I’m starting to feel like this is a race I am never going to win (shocking with my incredible athlete abilities, I know). 

8 months has fucking just whooshed by and here we are- you trying to crawl in your sleepsack instead of napping (ps. Go to sleep) and me in makeup (ok fine, just mascara) and hair done (in a pony, very unwashed) at 9am (we had a Bris this morning, but still a pretty major accomplishment for any mama. Amiright???)

Baby, you are a total riot. Every day you remind me more and more of your dad which is to say you are loud, stubborn and WONDERFUL. 

You are finally getting to be a bit chubby and you have all sorts of new skills popping up every day. You just started to crawl (ish), you wave, high five and say dada. You laugh a lot and you are generally very friendly and happy. 

Right now you are big into pancakes and swings as well as your socks. You have yet to meet socks that you don’t want to just eat immediately. Your socks remain forever soggy and missing. 

Life here chez us is pretty good. We have some kind of semblance of a routine- or whatever you call it when you don’t have a set time but things sort of happen around a time- ish. You have finally acknowledged the dog who in turn has finally come to understand that you are the keeper of the dropped food. You two spend a lot of time cautiously eyeing one another and it is adorable. 

I think that one of the most profound parts of this time for me is watching friends have new babies and thinking how much has changed in such a very short time. I can hardly remember what we were like 8 months ago. I picked up a friend’s new baby recently and forgot how precious their head is. It seems like you have had neck control forever. When you take 5 minutes to settle for a nap I wonder what is going on and I forget spending HOURS rocking you and shushing you to sleep on the daily. 

Baby at 8 months you are SO loved. I love you even more than I ever imagined and I continue to be delighted and amazed by you. I am so proud and happy to be your mama. 

Happy 8 months my sweet little lady.

xo

Mom

8 Months- a Roundup

Baby Clothes (are crazy)

May 16, 2016

Dear Baby,

It should come as no surprise that I LOVE baby clothes. They are just as cute as adult clothes except in miniature making them even cuter. Sure, I love a good adult tutu but a BABY TUTU- can you EVEN!!!

So needless to say you wardrobe is full. It makes mine look sparse and even though you don’t need it, you have the fun extras like a straw fedora and converse style sneakers. Just for fun. 

So I get you lots of stuff but where I seem to draw the line is stuff that seems too adult- case in point, the pleather leggings I saw at a recent sample sale (that were a steal at $50- because that’s a normal thing to do, spend $50 on a pair of pants that are as big as your arm that your baby will wear for 5 minutes. Ok. Sure). 

I mean sure, they are cute and it’s kind of sweet to have this tiny mini me styled child complete with pleather but Baby, you will have a long time to wear pleather or leather. Skulls seem ironic and badass for a wee one but wait till your emo teens and you can rock skulls head to toe if yo want. 

And it’s not like I am pushing the other side of the coin either. The $5 “mommy thinks I’m cute” tops in bright pink make me want to puke and anything that says the word “awesome” on it can burn in hell for all I care but somewhere in the middle of death metal and daddy thinking baby is a princess is a wardrobe for for… well, a baby. 

Yes friends, there are clothes available that are both cute and cool and if you look hard (aka for 10 seconds on the Internet) you can even find them for less than a million dollars). It’s not that I don’t think fashion is valuable but when the amount of fabric used to make the item at hand is the size of a napkin, you’d best believe I will scoff at your $80 price tag- don’t care what brand it is.

(I’ll add quickly here that my personal exception to this rule is Canadian clothing companies that use organic cotton- I feel like that warrants a higher price tag, but that’s just me). 

So the lesson is, Baby: there are so many ages and so many stages to play with fashion. You will hopefully go through several styles and trends and you will nail them all. Enjoy each while you can because just as one day soon a pink frilly dress will be something you won’t wear, crop tops and blue lipstick might become something you can’t wear (mid 30’s whyyyyyyyyyy??!!)

Don’t rush to be an adult. You will have plenty of time to adult the shit out of adulting. 

In the meantime, I’m breaking out the sewing machine in the basement to make you harem pants that don’t cost four billion dollars. Fashion school has finally paid off. You’re welcome. 

xo

Mom

Baby Clothes (are crazy)