woman/second-class citizen

This blog post is a rant about my gym. I won't mention it by name, but it's a big chain that I suspect has a bad reputation already. My gym is billed as having a special "Women Only" separate gym, with a private entrance; there's also a huge main gym. Well the women's gym is a joke! More like a storage area than an actual gym, where they store all the shitty equipment that doesn't look as nice in the main gym area. Ancient treadmills that don't always work, a mish-mash of dumbells, weight machines with the keys jammed in the weight stacks, dim lighting, cramped, just a generally unpleasant space.

I like using free weights in my workout, but the dumbell selection is laughable. One set of 10 pounds, one set of 8 pounds, and the rest are really heavy - like 40 pounds plus! I don't know a lot of women who curl 40 pounds! I noticed a sign above the water fountain stating that bags and purses are not allowed in the gym area - no exceptions. I thought that was a bit weird - maybe they were a tripping hazard? My sister-in-law told me it's because people steal dumbell sets. How ridiculous is that!? So I guess the gym doesn't bother re-stocking the dumbells once they're stolen.

I went in the women's gym the other day and one of the TVs was just BLARING. Thankfully I had my iPod, but even that couldn't drown out the loud TV. ANd there was no way to turn it down/off, since they're up so high. I ignored it and went about my business, finished my workout and went to use the hand sanitizer dispenser. Empty. Weird as I hadn't been to the gym in three weeks and it was empty last time too. Then I went to wipe down one of the weight machines I was using. No paper towels. Lovely. How nice to see that the gym staff care enough about their female clientele to actually - I don't know - maybe LOOK INTO the women's area once in awhile.

I went to the front desk and voiced my complaints. I felt a bit bad for letting my complaints accumulate and laying them all on the poor girl working at the time, but she was apologetic and said she'd look into it. But since then, I've pretty much abandoned the women's area and started working out in the main gym. Snazzy treadmills, new cardio machines, lots of TVs, and plenty of breathing room. I'd been using the women's area to spare the public the agony of seeing my post-partum ass-jiggle, but now I'm saying, "Screw it!" and letting my badoink-a-doink bounce freely as I jog on the treadmill. I'm thankful for shows like The Biggest Loser that have made it okay for fat people to work out.

Eating so much crow...

that I have stinky crow-farts.

When my daughter was a baby, she was the most chill, easygoing little thing. She would sit happily in her bouncy chair while I did my chores or surfed the Internet, then she would fall asleep for an hour or two in it. When she outgrew the bouncy chair, I was able to nurse her to sleep in the side-lying position. She would pass out and I would transfer her to her crib for naps and for bedtime. When she would wake in the night, I'd also feed her in our bed in the side-lying position and she would fall asleep snuggled up next to me. Those were blissful days and I thought my easygoing baby was a result of my stellar parenting abilities and because I did everything "right."

But then, Duke was born and I realized that truly, every baby is different. This child of mine seems to have a serious aversion to sleep and it is crazy-making. I can't imagine anything more infuriating than spending almost an hour nursing and rocking a baby to sleep, only to put him down in his crib and have him pop his head up like a darn prairie dog! Repeat four to five times. Never before have I felt such a strong desire to put my fist through a wall. And anyone who knows me knows that's completely out of character. I'm a lot like my first baby: relaxed, calm, laidback, easygoing, etc. How can such a tiny human being have the ability to drive me so far up the wall?

So, eating crow. I always considered letting babies cry-it-out to be extremely cruel, but I'll admit that I've considered it as a coping mechanism for dealing with Duke's sleeping...challenges. One day, after he repeated the above-mentioned routine several times, in my sleep-deprived and tearful state, I said to myself, "Forget it! He can cry himself to sleep!" But no. Duke doesn't cry himself to sleep. He just gets himself more and more worked up. So that's out. I've started co-sleeping with him at night because it's easier to have him in bed with me than to stumble bleary-eyed into his room four times a night. I originally didn't have him sleep in our bed because he's such a puker. But I'll take sleeping in a bit of baby puke if it means more sleep for me!

I also remember thinking it was crazy when people would ask for baby advice and say, "My baby doesn't like x,y,z." I would sort of scoff to myself, wondering what they meant. Take swaddling for example. Sunshine loved to be swaddled early on in her life. So if someone said they were having a hard time getting their newborn to sleep, I'd say, "Well have you tried swaddling." When they would reply, "No, my baby hates to be swaddled," my inner Judgy McCriticalpants would assume they were doing it wrong. But I now know how wrong I was. Duke HATED being swaddled and would bust out of the swaddle no matter what I tried.

So perhaps this is some sort of karmic payback for being so self-righteous. Who knows? But if anyone can send some sleep vibes out to the universe for Duke, that would be nice. I promise I've learned my lesson.

I wish I could bottle this feeling...

Last night was Halloween, and although Sunshine is 3 years old, it's the first time she really "got" it. She was so excited for trick-or-treat and for putting on a costume. Normally she doesn't like to try new things so we weren't sure if she'd be into it.

When we went outside to start the trick-or-treating, it was just starting to get dark. She saw a group of 3 kids out and about and yelled, "Mommy! Look at the kids! Look at the nice costumes!" Then another child walked by wearing a storm trooper mask and she stopped dead in her tracks and cried, "Woah! That's scary!" and just stared as he walked away.

She seemed so impressed that she could go to anyone's door and have them put candy in her little orange pumpkin basket. She was very polite - said thank you, but didn't always remember to say, "Trick or treat!" We just went to houses on our own street and the amount of loot was unreal! Lucky for mom, she doesn't like chocolate, but there were still plenty of chips and candy for her.

I don't know what she enjoyed more: trick-or-treating or handing out the candy at our house. When the doorbell would ring, she would look at me excitedly, yell, "I do it!" and run for the front door. We had the candy in a huge wooden bowl and she would haul it off the dining room table, and carry it to the door which I'd already opened. Then she would shout, "Hi kids! Nice costumes!" and place excessive amounts of candy in their open bags. She was sure to act scared of all the kids in masks and I think they appreciated it. I helped myself to one of our Crunchie bars and she shouted at me, "NO MOM! THAT'S FOR THE KIDS!" The Colonel said it served me right for trying to eat some chocolate before the night was over.

At bedtime she was so sad that Halloween was over. Seeing the sadness in her face almost made ME cry. So much excitement and wonder at such a fun holiday and the realization that it was all over was too much to take. But it wasn't anything that couldn't be cured with some hugs, and the usual nightly reading of "Go Dog, Go" before she crashed into a deep sleep.

I'm already excited for next year!

Mom-to-Mom Sale

I spent yesterday morning in a small corner of hell known as the mom-to-mom sale. I don't know what it is about hanging out in a church basement, but I always feel gross afterwards. Too much old dust and no airflow, I guess. This was the first time I'd ever participated in such an event, and I'm not sure I'd do it again. It was a lot of work for me and in the end, I made $107. Take out the $25 I had to pay for the pleasure of having a table and the $15 I spent on a few things for the littles, and it wasn't really worth my time and effort.

I did learn some lessons, though, so I thought I'd post some tips for anyone who might like some advice.

1. Most people don't want to buy high-end stuff, even majorly marked down. The woman next to me was selling a Peg Perego Pliko stroller in excellent used condition (I checked) for $100. The stroller would retail for around $350, but no one really even looked at it.

Not to toot my own horn but I have a lot of really lovely, name brand girls' clothing in like-new condition. I admittedly had a bit of a shopping addiction while on maternity leave with my daughter. So an outfit that I paid, maybe $30 for at H&M, I priced at $6 - and no takers. So my advice is to price clothing at $1 per piece.

2. What people DO seem to want to buy are items priced at 4 for $1.00. I had a bin of bibs, socks, tights, and baby hats, and people really seemed to want to look at that stuff. I guess because it was cheap.

3. People don't like to rummage through bins, so display as much stuff as you can. I tried to do this but I just had so much clothing that it didn't work well. Get one of those garment racks to display your things, for sure. I also leabed that it's best to sell stuff for the current season. I had a lot of summer stuff but kids' sizing can be difficult so for a sale in the fall/winter, I'd stick with fall/winter items. One exception to that is bathing suits since babies and kids will often need those for vacations and swimming lessons.

4. Keep your expectations low. I went in expecting to come out with around $300 so I was disappointed to make much less. Also, get a float of change so you're not scrambling. I got $100 in $5 bills, loonies, and twonies. But that was too much and you can get by with probably half that.

5. What people DO seem to want to buy are TOYS! The lady next to me sold most of her stuff because it was almost all toys. Time of year may be a factor too because Christmas is 2 months away. They also seem to want to buy dressy outfits in good condition. I find most of the dressy stuff does tend to be in great shape because it's barely worn. Also, name-brand shoes in good shape. I had a pair of See Kai Run shoes that were snatched up quickly. Oddly enough, my Robeez didn't sell so perhaps they were priced too high at $8.

6. Bring WATER. I forgot and I absolutely needed it. Bonehead move on my part.

7. Don't bring too much stuff! Less is more since it can be displayed easily.

I'm going to take all of my own advice and perhaps participate in one more sale. After that, I'm going to give away any nice outfits to people I know will love them, and give the rest to charity...or maybe save it for a garage sale in the summer.

Potty training trials and triumphs

We're in the thick of potty training, or "potty learning" which seems to be the new PC term. You see, you train a dog, but a child is learning about bodily functions and how to use the toilet. Sunshine is doing quite well. We had about 20 accidents the first weekend we tried underpants and one or two pees in the potty. That's progress, right?

I've been watching Sunshine like a hawk lately, looking for any signs that it may be potty time. This can get a bit tedious, however, so sometimes I get distracted. I was looking something up on the computer yesterday after waiting over two hours for her to sit on the potty. All of a sudden, she cried, "Look mommy! Look! Look!" and pointed at the potty. She was still wearing her underpants, but I looked and there was pee in the potty! So she had pulled her undies down, peed, and pulled them back up herself! I was so proud of her and she was proud of herself as well. Triumphantly, she took the potty out of the seat to bring it to the toilet to flush. She was very excited, and walked proudly towards the bathroom with the bowl clutched in her arms, all the while exclaiming, "I peed in the potty!" and grinning from ear to ear. But life is cruel sometimes, and when she made it to the doorway of the bathroom and stepped onto the tile, she tripped, fell on her back, and....you guessed it...spilled the entire contents of her potty all over herself. Poor kid. A quick rinse-off in the shower helped ease the humiliation, and then she got her special potty-prize gear: a princess dress and some Dora popcorn (SuperKid popcorn from Kernels in a Dora container).

I kind of regret using food as a reward, so I'm hoping to phase that out soon. The princess dress seems to be the real currency anyway. It's not really a princess dress - it's an ultra-gaudy skirt I found at my local consignment shop for $3. It's pink with tulle and fake satin, and some pretty beads. Anyone who knows me would scratch their head at the thought of me buying something so girly. What can I say? If potty success means dressing my daughter like a fairy princess, well--bring on the glitter and tiaras!

Cooking with Ontario strawberries

I love strawberry season! I have great memories of berry picking in the summers with my dad, so I was happy to see that strawberries are in season here. Ontario strawberries are so good - small and sweet. I find sometimes the strawberries available at the grocery store are huge and kind of tasteless, but the ones we bought this week were perfect. I was afraid the berries would go bad before we could eat them all, so Sunshine and I set out to make some strawberry muffins today. I used Anna Olson's recipe from the Food TV website for stawberry banana muffins. That worked out well since I had some overripe bananas in the freezer to use up.

I let Sunshine stir the batter. She loves to bate bate (stir in Spanish) just like Dora. Looking good so far:












Watching muffins bake is always interesting. Maybe she was worried I'd burn them or something?
















The finished product. They looked perfect! The taste - well, I think I let Sunshine stir TOO much, because they were a bit...tough. I'll try again sometime and stir the batter myself.












Also of note - who knew that the strawberries container made such a good toy? Sunshine's using it to carry around some of her treasures, including an old IQ2000 handheld game with no batteries, her precious dog, one of Duke's soother's, and an under-ripe strawberry that looked interesting since it was kind of whitish-yellow in colour.

















Now that we've had some Ontario strawberries, I can't wait for Ontario corn! I think it's in season sometime in August, so you can bet we'll be having that. We couldn't get good corn in Halifax, so we'll have to make up for it by eating lots here.

p.s. Forgive the slightly odd layout. I'm still trying to figure this all out.

Sometimes I wonder why I leave my house. . .

I was excited about attending a BBQ yesterday to celebrate a family engagement. I don't get out often so it would be a good opportunity to socialize. What was I thinking? My normally angelic children were IMPOSSIBLE. Duke cried almost the entire time we were there and I couldn't calm him down. It was like he worked himself up to the point that nothing would settle him. I started a conversation with someone I hadn't met before, and I'm pretty sure I just walked away at some point, completely frustrated with my baby, not even excusing myself (that I can remember). Everyone was outside, but I took the baby inside hoping he'd calm down out of the sun and where it was quieter. Nope. I'm very good at figuring out what he wants/needs most of the time, but yesterday was not a good day.

Sunshine was just being a typical toddler, but she was feeling under the weather the night before so it was probably a mistake to take her to the BBQ. The Colonel followed her around for most of the party, so it's not like he got to sit and socialize much either. The next-door-neighbour's had their kid out in a wading pool, so of course she cried when we wouldn't let her go over there. Someone brought a small dog to the party (a pet peeve of mine) and Sunshine wouldn't leave it alone. I don't blame her - it was a cute dog - but I could tell the poor thing wanted to be left alone after awhile. But how do you keep a toddler away from a dog outside without physically restraining her? Redirection only works for so long. She also grabbed a slice of pizza off her great uncle's plate during dinner and ate it. I was so shocked at her behaviour that I sort of laughed (I was tending to the baby). I realized afterwards (and told the Colonel so) that it was a good teaching moment so we should have explained to her that the pizza wasn't hers and maybe asked her to apologize.

We went home right after food was served (I don't think I tasted my food - I just shovelled it in). I spent part of the car ride home in tears over my feeling like a shitty parent and a failure for not being able to control my kids. I also felt bad that my normally well-behaved kids seemed like impossible balls of tears and probably gave off a crappy first impression. I also worry that I came off as rude for hiding in the house and not talking to anyone. It's such a hard pull when my kids need me, though. It's not like I can ignore them.

At home, I was getting Duke ready for bed and he was cooing and smiling at me, just generally being cute. I was wondering why he couldn't be like that at the party! But I also thought to myself, "Ah - who cares about stupid parties?" I have this perfect little bundle here who needs me, and as corny as it sounds, when he grins at me it makes me feel like I'm doing SOMETHING right. So I may not be able to hold an adult conversation, but at least I can hold my baby's gaze long enough to melt my heart just a little bit.

motherhood = back in the army?

Lately, I've been feeling like I'm back at CFB Gagetown in training to be an infantry officer. Let me tell you why:

My back hurts. I think some people call this the "nursing mother's back." It hurts every day. It hurts more than it did when I had to hike around with a 60 pound rucksack in the blazing heat.

Sleep deprivation. Oh the sleep deprivation. Doing night patrols, fire pickets, and bug-outs in the middle of the night was torture. Getting up with a 10 week old every 2 hours during the night is torture. But at least with the infantry I could smoke a cigarette or have some Skoal to get my buzz on and keep me wired. Somehow I don't think keeping a spitoon next to my nursing chair (a rocker-recliner) for chewing tobacco spit would go over so well. Ick.

I have blisters on my feet. I got them all the time marching around in combat boots. Now I have them from overly ambitious stroller walks in a new pair of shoes. One on the back of each heel, plus one on each baby toe. Thankfully I've been able to go barefoot the past few days.

Eating fast. This was common when I was in the field with the infantry because there was always lots to do. These days it seems inevitable that if I cook a nice dinner, Duke will wake up to feed just before we sit down to eat it. I swear he has a sixth sense about these things.

General grubbiness. In the field with the infantry, we pretty much always had camouflage paint on our faces and dirt everywhere. I've traded camo paint and dirt for puke. Duke's a puker, and no matter how often I change my shirt throughout the day, I always seem to have puke on my shoulder. Even when I protect myself with a receiving blanket, he still catches me by surprise sometimes. I try to make daily showering a priority, but it's hard with a toddler as well. Treehouse TV is my saviour some days.

But despite all of this, I wouldn't trade motherhood for anything and I would never go back to the army. Having to switch to the air force was really a blessing because if I had continued as an infantry officer, I would have definitely had to deploy to Afghanistan at some point and leave my family behind. There's still a chance that I could deploy in the future when I go back to work (and I'm actually not opposed to deploying - even though it would be hard on my family), but my current job as a logistics officer is much less dangerous because it is a support position and not generally on the front lines.