What is a "Natural" lifestyle

I found a quote on what is likely a very controversial website (http://beyondveg.com) that spurred this post. I came across it while exploring naturopaths in Calgary. Which led me to "traditional" or "natural" diets. Which had me then groaning because everytime I look more deeply into some new health trend, I realize it is a dead end.

My issue is I have issues with naturopaths.I want to love them, I do. I took Charlie there and they performed a psychic reading on him. They didn't call it that. But they did say, stop medicine and just wait for him to get better. 6-8 weeks later he got better. Not scientific so I could never trust they did anything. And the weird voodoo didn't help their case, nor the cost.

Other than that, I have some points.

1. Their college here in Canada teaches a couple courses in homeopathy. I cannot say for sure that this "medicine" does not work. But I can say that there is no scientific evidence that homeopathy is no more effective than the placebo effect (taking sugar pills and believing they are true medicine). Let's not forget that the Placebo effect, even when someone knows they are taking a placebo, has a 20% success rate. However, the appointments and medicine are not free nor are they cheap. I do not want a part in this. Can I avoid homepathy while seeing a naturopath? Will they hate me for saying as such?

2. Many naturopaths practise dietary suggestions to patients including gluten-free, dairy-free, etc, diets. While professing that they steer away from hypothetical trendy diets and stick to traditional, whole-food diets, this in itself is actually a "trend" meaning in the last 100-200 years certain people have loosely studied native diets and modern followers have cited these diets as the new, best diet. However, most of these diets are just not proven scientifically and using the word "natural", they seem better, when in fact, those peoples had high infant mortality rates, horrid disease, and they didn't have the science to know what was actually in their food, meaning they had to consume some of it more than we do when we could just pop a pill with vitamin C (or have it injected by a, you guessed it, naturopath). You get success stories but none of the ex-diet people speaking up. Moreover, some are extremely time-consuming for real families. SO many breastfeeding advocates go along on this line of thinking. What was natural then must be good now, begetting any infant mortality, lack of dietary knowledge (ie. creating a viable substitute for breastmilk that wasn't a. poisonous or b. malnutritious). What really gets me is saying getting no sleep is natural for our cavewomen ancestors. That one really kills me as they only lived a few decades. Sleep is, to me, one of THE factors in good health.

3. One of the quotes I liked from above controversial website was "vegetarianism often is an enthusiasm of younger, more idealistic people that doesn't last or doesn't "stick" as they get out into the world, and start dealing with the everyday vicissitudes of life that make idealism of any sort difficult."

4. If that previous idealism and currently waking up to reality doesn't perfectly describe my daily existence these days, nothing does. There is no more happiness found in not having cable tv, not driving my car, not eating meat. In fact, there is a certain large amount of misery found in no tv, walking and preparing vegetarian meals. The fact is that my child needs to be driven to daycare lately. We have a lot of illness lately and i just can't trust walking to get me/him home quickly in emergencies. It's called survival state. He hates vegetables and loves meat, which is a whole protein. Easier. I don't want meat, but veggie meals take longer for us to make. I am actually slightly afraid of meat and contamination, but the "everyday vicissitudes of life" are encroaching in what I used to believe in and would like to do with my life versus what I can actually do with my life right now.

5. With the lack of idealism in my life, I seem to be floating in space with no anchor. My sense of identity has become what I imagine is a wild cavewoman, hungry for meat, irritable and more likely to grunt than talk to someone saying with a fuzzy-bunny chime "how was your weekend!!!" I hate the weekends. I loathe trying to fit in quality family bonding, big meal preparations, having a nap, going for 20 minutes of exercise, and an endless list of Things That I Wanted To Accomplish This Weekend. I literally fall apart, grouch a lot and feel intense anxiety on the weekend.

6. Something has to change. For some reason I keep getting flare-ups of my ulcer. I have an ulcer! This is known as a chronic health condition, something this happiness-book-reader knows does NOT lead to happiness. It leads to chronic depression or in my case, more anxiety. Which led me to today.

7. Therefore, I am resigned to go visit a naturopath. Maybe it will be pointless. I know they cannot pry my latte out of stubborn hands as this is the only thing in life that makes me happy, but maybe something will arise from the venture into more health awareness that I have not thought of yet. Outside of not touching ANY doorknobs, light switches, kissing my husband, going out with friends, drinking weirdass health drinks constantly, thinking 'happy, grateful thoughts' when I can, etc, etc.

8. Wish me luck. It isn't easy being a skeptic. Truly, I cannot help skepticism. Some people have more than others. I have a lot. I tend to become interested in new ideas and look them up, usually with an open-mind, but the older I get, the more I look it up because I don't know how I had not come across this before. Turns out Shakespeare was right. There is nothing new under the sun. New ideas usually mean new fabricated ideas.  Could I live a long life believing every evangelist that I came across? Who knows. Perhaps happier. But it just isn't me.

Move away to Rural BC

After a throw-up incident on Friday night with Charlie in which I basically had a panic attack that we were all about to succumb to the dreaded norovirus (for those who don't know, it's the most prevalent GI illness out there and after having it once, I can say, it warrants a panic attack).

Today I learned at the daycare shmaycare that Charlie wasn't the only one, and it wasn't just a too-full belly that caused his illness as some suspected (not me!). Luckily I bleached the hell out of everything we touched that night cleaning up, well, except for Charlie's head, but I was tempted. And:

• I haven't had bleach in my house period since I left home.
• Now I feel it's a necessity as this is the only way to stop the spread of norovirus once it gets in your house, daycare, etc.
• I feel guilty about it, even though at the same time I feel like drinking the stuff "just to be safe".
• I seriously want to pull Charlie out of daycare.
• I don't trust one of his caregivers who is super defensive and never happy.
• The YWCA is now allowing homeless women to sleep in their gym, where the kids play, as an emergency shelter. I feel guilty about it, but I also want it to stop. They are babies and they are on the ground. How can I be assured they are safe from the things that unfortunately exist in vulnerable populations such as bacterias, viruses, etc?
• How can I be sure the daycare is safe? The caregivers giving enough hugs?  The food handled properly (well, I do read the Health Inspection reports in this case. Yes. I actually do.) How can I be sure all medium and large urban areas are not just cesspools of disease?
• In other words, I am freaking out. I want to pack up and run away with my family. Hawaii would be nice. But rural BC, some farm that doesn't get too cold...live in a trailer.
• I realize my family doesn't come visit anymore often with a house than they used to. And we have no furniture for them. And one bathroom. And when they fly here, I get paranoid about the germs. And when I fly to see them, I get paranoid. I'm losing it.

In the end, I would like to state that the world is a very scary place with too much uncertainty and I have very little delusional optimism which I've read recently is a necessary human trait to get through the misery of life.

Here is a farm for sale near J's brother's home on the west coast. Only $949,000 (laughs crazily).

First friend

I remember my first friend. Tanys. Inseparable. We thought she would marry my brother and we would be "REAL" sisters forever. My mom sewed us identical outfits in different colours. Tanys was always yellow, me pink. Our moms coordinated birthday and Christmas gifts so we always had the same things. I was heartbroken when Tanys moved on in life to new friends and boys and schools. We called each other's parents by their first names. We played on the same softball team from t-ball until after we could drive ourselves to our games. We were both pitchers. We both played piano. We loved the Blue Jays and had posters of our favourite players up in our rooms. Our entirely pink rooms.

We are still friends, though mainly over facebook. When I became pregnant she sent me all these gifts, some of them being things that were just SO Tanys, meaning I would never have picked them out. Tanys LOVES Disneyworld. Her grandparents lived in Florida growing up so she went there a lot, and over the years I think she found different, new ways to love the experience, from sharing it with her husband, her daughter, etc. Either way, do I like Disneyland? Meh, not really! I may even be "against" Disney in what it has to offer in the way of consumer capitalism. But I love that she loves Disney. Because it was originally a way of being. A happy place where kids are forever. Innocent and joyful. Like Tanys.

When Tanys sent a huge (HUGE!) Mickey Mouse in the mail from Saskatoon to Charlie, I could only giggle. SO Tanys. I love her like a sister. Only a sister can be so different from you but not be offensive in any way. "Mickey" is one of Charlie's best pals now. He loves hugging him and biting his big nose. For a long time, Mickey was bigger than Charlie. I think it helped their relationship.
Some of my granola friends are a little surprised Charlie has a Mickey Mouse friend. But that makes me love Tanys even more. She is a nurse and so loving and giving.

This morning Charlie walked into daycare with me and his little buddy Paige came up and gave him a big hug. A couple weeks ago I learned Charlie had a friend named Riley at daycare who he was following around the slides and little plastic houses. Now Paige. Both girls (my little ladies man).

Seeing Charlie develop a friend or two makes me miss Tanys so bad it hurts my heart. In the best possible way.

Reason to Jog Reminder #816

Getting caught in a flash rain/hail storm on the lunch break. I can't think of a better WakeUp Activity than running AND a shower!
Refreshing, adventurous and uplifting.

Why I run: Reminder #416

I went for my lunchbreak jog alone today. It was drizzling outside, high teens, and of course, perfect running weather. However, so many days can be cancelled due to the following excuses, all of which occurred for me this morning.
I'm sore from (blank) and the run will be painful, long and bring me no joy.
I'm having irritable bowels (again) and the run will make it worse.
I should be doing (blank) instead.
I shouldn't take a lunch and leave early so I can pick up the kid from daycare a little earlier.
I won't lose any weight, binge later in the day, and it won't make me feel good.
I will have really bad hair after running in this humidity/rain.
I will be really sweaty for my meeting.
I will probably stink for my meeting.
I can't jog alone because it is too boring.

But today, I went anyways. ALone to confront my stressed out thoughts, sore body and bad humidity hair.

I never time my runs, or care how far I go. I aim for my "loop" and that's about it. Which at times makes the whole thing feel pointless. Why do I go? What is my goal? When will I run a race? Get a personal best, join a jogging group, improve, improve, improve.

Today, lost in thought running through the old-growth trees on St. George's Island, without any people in sight, the traffic noises barely audible along Memorial, suddenly I came upon a Merganser duck mom. She was taking her ducklings, about 8 of them, out of their tree nest, across the sidewalk and into the river. I arrived just as the last few were flopping out of the tree from way up high, right in front of me.

I stood completely in awe.

No longer was I constrained by thoughts. Thoughts of my life. Self-pitying thought of being a tired mom, a sore renovator, an insignificant office worker, a cranky and often angry 31 year old woman.

All in that one moment of seeing the rare duck and her duckling, I felt like a complete creature. I was a creature mom waiting out of respect for this duck mom to move her kids along. I was completely absorbed in this scene.

 The rain drizzling onto me, warm from my jog, air fresh, plants dense and green, it was a scene of Mother Earth, of the nature that is just a quick jaunt from any downtown or suburb. It was a reason to be alive to be witness to this. To be whacked upside the head by beauty and be reminded of my physical essence on earth as just another creature. It pratically had me in tears, which is the obvious touch of pure sublimeness, being a sense of both pain and pleasure. 

I waited for them to disappear into the plants, then with a sudden vitality of energy and life in me, I sprang back into my jog. My hamstrings and quads had a strength that could only be brought on by true and pure inspiration. Not owing to nutrition (a sugary mocha being my only that morning), not owing to hydration (certainly not considering the beer and wings from last night), and not owing to any complex carb-loading/running shoe technology/lululemon-jogging gear, I ran back to the office at a breakneck speed. Like a disciple spreading the word, I felt I had a mission to share this with another human. To let them know the secret to life. The secret just over there, just behind the plants bordering the downtown. Just beyond the pedestrian bridge that takes you into the real life.

 I'm glad I jogged at lunch. This is why I do it.

Stroke of Insight and Cool Sad Songs

Just read "My Stroke of Insight" by Jill Bolte Taylor, PhD. What an amazing book. She talks on Tedtalk here.
The summary from Ted is:

Speakers Jill Bolte Taylor: Neuroanatomist


Brain researcher Jill Bolte Taylor studied her own stroke as it happened -- and has become a powerful voice for brain recovery.

.Why you should listen to her: .One morning, a blood vessel in Jill Bolte Taylor's brain exploded. As a brain scientist, she realized she had a ringside seat to her own stroke. She watched as her brain functions shut down one by one: motion, speech, memory, self-awareness ...

Amazed to find herself alive, Taylor spent eight years recovering her ability to think, walk and talk. She has become a spokesperson for stroke recovery and for the possibility of coming back from brain injury stronger than before. In her case, although the stroke damaged the left side of her brain, her recovery unleashed a torrent of creative energy from her right. From her home base in Indiana, she now travels the country on behalf of the Harvard Brain Bank as the "Singin' Scientist."

"How many brain scientists have been able to study the brain from the inside out? I've gotten as much out of this experience of losing my left mind as I have in my entire academic career."

Jill Bolte Taylor

I'm not sure why, but this book about her experience, above all yogic insights, above all other books I have read lately, this book really HELPED me. I mean, I'm-angry-and-screaming-inside-and trying-to-scream-outside-at-my-beloved-J-and-not-knowing-why-and-no matter-what-I-can't-stop-and-I feel-out-of-control-and-helpless-even-after-years-of-different-therapies-and-drugs..., HELPED me.

It's only been a day of trying her techniques. But the difference is that she is solely based on the body and its capabilities in her advice. No foo-foo, no God, no bullshit. Yet she can talk elegantly about Energy and Healing and not be foo-foo. She is speaking my language. The science of what we don't know. The experience of energy as something real and tangible. It really gives me hope that I can heal this anger inside me. Change my future. At last.

And now a totally random quote from this sad song I like by Of Monsters and Men called "Little Talks".

I don't like walking around this old and empty house

So hold my hand, I'll walk with you my dear

The stairs creak as I sleep, it's keeping me awake

It's the house telling you to close your eyes

Some days I can't even trust myself

It's killing me to see you this way

This song really lets me see the big picture. How I treat J and how much I would miss him if I was old and alone in our old house. Thinking of all the words I said to him, and wishing I had been more kind and loving. It makes me sad, but also is a reminder. It's beautiful in its duality.

Detachment Parenting 101

As recently ranted on this blog, by yours truly. With a little, well, a lot, of extra quotes for the picking.



For some reason the term “attachment parenting” just brings up all sorts of ooooo-gleee emotions. I mean, the first time I heard of it I was all like “ooh, unicorns and rainbows, that sounds awesome!” but now, I don’t know. Maybe I feel like there were things I wanted to do that I didn’t do or couldn’t do? But more than anything, I guess I ran into too many pretentious, bitchy-ass moms who espouse AT, and not only did I despise their other parenting choices, but I found whatever AT things they did, I had to seriously consider the opposite. I know, intense emotions.



Either way, the end result was reading something a while back (was it Renegade Mama's blog?) that was actually poking fun at its critics, but nonetheless, here goes. That term, that word "attachment", does it not imply that some parents are NOT “attached” to their kids? Or whose goal is NOT attachment?



This really hit home when I was recently in the doc’s office explaining for the umpteenth time to a different person how I was separated at birth from my baby and blahblah traumatic, blahblah. His response? “Wow, no, that’s bad. I mean, even cracked out, street women, totally high on something, they know, that’s THEIR baby!”



I'm serious, besides someone seriously experiencing PPD, who DOESN’T feel attached to their munchkin and do whatever they can for them, within their own capabilities? I work at the downtown library, otherwise known as the day-time -drop-in centre (to me). I SEE those moms. I want to STEAL their babies. I want to take home these precious 6 month olds and do a better damn job than some 17 year old, smellin-like-smoke, talking-about-getting-her-GED-"SOMEDAY", at-the-library-from-9am-to-4pm, texting-people-all-day and IGNORING her baby mom. But I can't. I don't even glare. I just long. I long for someone else's cute little baby. But you know what? I would NEVER comment on what she should do or not do with her baby. Why? Because that lesser-than-me mom? She LOVES her baby. She is ATTACHED to her baby. And God knows, if I came even within an inch of insinuating that I would remove that baby from her, I am absolutely certain that momma bear would

tear

me

apart.

She may not be making great choices, and yes, I know that love does not conquer all, especially second-hand smoke or growing up with no role models in your life. But within reason, someone, especially THIS someone (lil' me), should not be feeling threatened that someone thinks she isn't attached to her baby. The thought of this is so revolting and sad that when it gets down to it, I shouldn't even get so mad.


The term is just one of total, utter obvious-ness isn’t it? For lack of my own better term? What does a parent, like me, call herself as a non-AT mom? A detached mom? For real, pick a different name, or better yet, just call yourself “mom”. How’s that? Oh yeah, not pretentious enough. SO outdated to JUST be mom or JUST be dad? To JUST love and do what you can? So 80s. So what our moms did. Who wants that? Phooey.






Well, anyways, I'm out of breath. Phew, end of rant. thanks for listenin’ luvs;)

Saskatoon in June

This was a photo my mom sent me after I was told that brownbear had arrived in Saskatoon with daddy as planned, but with 7 stitches!

He fell into a play table at the Calgary airport and the paramedics there said to take him to Saskatoon as it would be more convenient. J waited until post-stitches to call me. It was so hard to hear this all at work. I burst out crying of course. J doesn't have the greatest ability to tell bad news. I thought the start of his story being "I have a little story for you (said ominously). Our little bear fell down..." was going to be much worse and I seriously stopped listening at that point. I can't imagine how hard it would be to have a spurting wound on a toddler just before you are trying to catch a flight for work all alone. Poor J and bear!

I even checked said table on my journey through the airport 2 days later and there is not an edge on the thing. He's just unlucky I guess. This lack of grace is the ONLY thing he inherited from me. The photo above is such another J lookalike photo. The legs are SO daddy's legs! Long and straight.

But the bear bounced back. This was a photo from Sunday night, when everyone was over for my birthday.

It's hard to see but this is my niece being chased by a little bear! The feeling of watching them really play like this for the first time is the EXACT opposite feeling as when I got that call from Justin about "the fall"! Such a rollercoaster. Heart-stopping to heart-warming.

Here's my big brother, grandpa and mom for a family photo.

This was after many, many outtakes of the same photo. Both kids were not happy to have their 45 minute race around the kitchen be stopped for a photo but eventually they were coaxed into a couple still shots! Grandpa was helping too, that's why his finger was in the air.

Overall, Saskatoon was a great trip. The CBC radio there totally makes up for the GODAWFUL other radio stations. The spectacular blue skies, jogging through the mud trail along the Sask River surrounded by bushes (Nature's first air-conditioning). The expansive river, twice the breadth of the Bow River in Calgary is a marvel to run across on a bridge, but wow, the wind! Then there was the humidity, which had me perspiring the entire time of course. I just couldn't trust the weather, always expecting Calgary's cool weather to pick up anytime, so I wore sweaters and extra tights and had a sheen the whole 3 days. We even had dinner on an outdoor patio on an overcast evening, and no jacket! Take that Calgary. Still, we had to remind ourselves many times about the lack of good downtown restaurants, the winter, and of course, mosquito season that is on its way anytime. But Saskatoon, like so many Canadian destinations in the summer, will charm and seduce you! Key words are the summer!



May Long Weekend...aka Too Much Pressure in 3 days off

Last night we were sitting at the playground in Prince's Island watching Charlie walking around, pondering life one year ago, when little brownbear was just over 2 months old. Every May long weekend, the pressure becomes insurmountable to go out and do something adventurous on May Long. Especially in Canada, where the first signs of summer have come, and are usually gone by this weekend. Yes, the week preceding May Long is inevitably hot and crazy, and by Friday night, it is pouring,  snowing, hailing, windy, cold or overcast. Especially in Calgary, where we seem to get our "rainy season" from Mid-May to Mid-June.

What did we do last year??? We seriously wracked our brains and came up with nada. I think we tried to sleep. I'm sure that is what we did. Sleep, sleep, sleep.

This year, even though we now get 11-12 hours a night uninterrupted sleep if we want as talked about here(really though, we go to bed late and brownbear is up by 6am), the world is our oyster. But the pressure to get out and DO is simply gone, poof! Vamoose! It's so refreshing. But I'm not gonna lie, I'm still going to use this weekend to get as much sleep as I can, so maybe things aren't that free, but let's just pretend;)

PS: We also talked about hooking a high-end GPS up to little brownbear and tracking his path around the playground since we think it would be the most chaotic path you could imagine. As a mapper, I am up for the challenge, but until he can roam further than a 15 foot radius, I'm afraid I don't have the moola to spend a lot for a high end surveying GPS unit. Still, the idea...

Boobs are okay, I just don't want them

Seth Meyers saved my day on Sunday, which was in fact Mother's Day when I got around to watching SNL. We always tape it and watch it the next day, so it's really called "Sunday Night Recorded for Lame Parents" in our house. When I saw the news segment with Seth tearing down the Times Magazine cover, was practically doing little dancing cheers. Seth put it perfectly with comments like "When I first glanced at the cover ... I thought: Did the kid from Modern Family sexually assault his yoga instructor?"


And this makes me seriously consider packing up and moving to NYC.

Sometimes I forget that I live in Calgary, land of the Conservatives. Doing my job at the library, it should be blatant when I see that our main demographic in Cowtown is literally called "Pets &PC's"  (PC=Conservatives or Republicans if you're a Yank). So why do I spend most of my days feeling guilty for being liberal in my approach to parenting, when it's obvious I'm a minority?? Coming here 11 years ago, I was at the most naive point in my life, but at least I had the objectivity to remember that I was different. That my best friends were gay, that I hated paying for a library card, that you were respecting at walk-in clinics, that  people spoke easily to one another, waving on the sidewalk, making eye contact, using that famous Saskie self-deprecating humour...I know I have changed in 11 years, became more Conservative as product of my city's influence but also with age. But when I feel like I'm the ONLY one who isn't jubilant about breastfeeding and attachment parenting, watching a little SNL reminds me that other people DO live in small apartments (like we have for 10 years), not own cars, joke around at their own expense...enjoy life on different levels than most Pets &PCers. Thanks Seth.

On another note. About boobs. Hopefully I can get a large chunk of this out of my system.

1. I never had boobs. Back in early college, I wore all sorts of boobalicious bras to pretend. Then, at a later stage in college, I slowly transitioned away from any artificial boobalage and just went free. No bras. This continued until after baby was born. I couldn't and didn't want to relate to boobs. It was like the myth of penis envy. I don't have one, don't care about them. Why spend a minute more on the subject?

2. When brownbear came along, I had no idea how to handle boobs. None. I had one ratty sports bra. No button down shirts (they have never been flattering on my "silhouette"). I literally had to pull my bra up while jogging when I saw someone coming my way because they literally came out the top! I had no clue how to reign them in, and while it's a funny image, it wasn't fun for me. It was like waking up in someone else's body, a body that you were completely unprepared for and didn't want.

3. When breastfeeding wasn't working, I wanted SO bad to stop. Not because of the other problems (the thrush, the anxiety, the fatigue, the sense of impending doom), but because it wasn't right for me. I can wrestle with brownbear unlike other moms. I can be a goof, I can show him how to pitch a baseball. In short, I can do a lot of tomboy things. The fact that I struggled with my identity as Nurting Earth Goddess shouldn't be surprising to those who really know the "f-bombing, braless, Never-crosses-her-legs, Chews-with-her-mouth-open, Trys-to-Outrun/OutSwim/Outdo-Men" ME. Sure, I have some girl skills too, but boobs weren't in my repertoire. They weren't anything for me.

4. Last, the thing I want to say the most to people when I talk about that dark breastfeeding time in my life is this, but I can never say it since it is horribly taboo. I want to say "I had a bit of trouble breastfeeding, but mainly I didn't like it. It wasn't for me so I stopped." But instead it comes out all blubbery like "We both had thrush so it became painful, I needed to recover from surgery, so I pumped his milk for 10 months and took 16 pills a day to keep up the milk supply". Like I wished I could have nursed. I didn't want to! And when I tell people this, I get pity and "you were amazing to pump for that long". Gar! I want to say "I hated it! I hated that I was doing something "amazing" that I hated just for your sake, for the sake of people I don't know who make nasty comments on internet blogs!"

5. There are some people who will say it's all  part of motherhood. But I disagree. Juts like saying this or that is critical to being a girl, we now live in a society where gender lines are blurred. Not everyone accepts these blurred boundaries so I should have been prepared for the backlash of not buying into one ideal image of being a mother. But I wasn't. I had no idea how accepting my mom friends were on gender issues and identity. I didn't poll them on their beliefs and understanding of bisexuality, or feelings on 2 men adopting a baby.  So I became a "closet mother"? Then a woman like me bails on that duty of breastfeeding, it seems very telling how those friends would react to gender differences. They would hate it. They would hate me. So I feign Earth Momma..knowing that it is not me. That I never want to wear a bra, never want to use my boobs as nourishment, and yes, I'm still a girl.

6. Sigh.

7. One last thing. Like all 30something women in my generation, I am still (STILL!) struggling to find who I am. It's lame, but a fact. Our prolonged adolescence and post-adolescence has made it this way. And like most women, I did fantasize about wearing dangly feather earrings (I don't even have holes anymore), long skirts, and baby wraps, walking in the park all summer on Mat Leave breastfeeding my little baby. And when I think of another baby, that image comes to mind. Which is perfectly normal. Maybe when I'm 50 I will be that woman. But I am not her now. I'm more likely to have my baby in an outwards-facing (gasp) jogging stroller, doing pushups at the park while baby lays there entertaining himself.
In running shoes.

And a top without a bra underneath.

Updating old posts to bring closure

You may have noticed that I'm updating old posts today. This has been a long time coming. Not just updating, but reading them. I swore that I would write down every nasty thing I hated about being pregnant, then force myself to read it when I started to consider having another baby was a good idea. That time has come. I want another one, and I need to close off everything that happened during that pregnancy, birth and postpartum period. I need to move on. I wish, as my therapist suggested, that I could "rewrite" my story in a way that was positive and affirming. I cannot do this. I just can't. I'm not ready, but someday I hope I can, so I can stop being the victim. Maybe this is the other motivation to have a baby. It seems to be the only way to rewrite my experiences. I know this is a huge challenge, no one can say it will be easy or easier than before. But I missed out so much on that newborn stage, either from the trauma, depression, anxiety, meds, or physical problems. When I meet other people's babies, I feel like I never had my own. Or maybe it's just the clock ticking away... Just like a woman starts nesting when the time is right, I'm cleaning up and straightening out the emotions, photos, posts and issues in preparation for another baby. I don't even know if it will happen, but something has stirred in me to motivate me to do this. There will be a lot emotions involved, a LOT of anger, a LOT of sadness. The latest TIME magazine, breastfeeding cover has caused a lot of those same emotions. I hate to hear about breastfeeding, it literally accelerates my blood pressure! But I'm trying to deal. Trying.

STTN Training eeek!!!

After talking to our $400 sleep consultant via phone (she doesn't live anywhere near us, how helpful), we learned some tips to get sweet brownbear down to sleep.

I was advised, due to my anxiety, and reluctance to follow through with this method, to find another place to bed the night of the dreaded sleep-training. After much crying, last minute backing out, then being almost pushed out the door. I drove to my nearby friend's house, loaded up on comfort candy such as Fun Dip, Skittles and a banana slurpie to watch a girly comedy with her and another gal. At one point we had to stop the movie so I could have "a moment" and then we carried on, my stomach starting to twist with the combination of anxiety and candy.

Alone with my friend, I broke down around 11pm, knowing my little guy would have already woken up for his first "starvation" breakdown, when he would cry, and Justin would not feed him, but only go into his room and stroke his face.

I went to bed late for me, around midnight. I awoke from a bad dream at 3:30am, sure that brownbear was awake and crying across the river from me. So after waking my friend and being assured no one had called, I made the call home. I woke up J, and he informed me that all was well. Brownbear had cried for no more than 10 minutes, and there was no 'scary scream' to be had.

When I couldn't sleep around 4:30am, I packed up and headed back home. I got in around 5am, J telling me that brownbear had woken in total for an hour, but not all at once. He seemed to be fussing more than anything, and when J would go in the room, it seemed to make him more upset.

J was and still is a horrible sleeper. When I asked his mom "when will brownbear STTN" she pretty much referred me to the fact that he DOESN'T STTN! No, I don't have to breastfeed him or make him a cheese sandwich to get him back down. No, instead my poor J lays awake for sometimes hours in the night. What happened? At what point do poor baby sleepers just stop getting mom and dad back in the room with them, and accept that they'll never sleep? Did his parents try sleep-training? No, heaven forbid! His mom not only co-slept with him for a couple months (while pa slept on the sofa, a great reason why I can't co-sleep, I like to cuddle my husband, not my baby!) but she breastfed him for about 6 months and they continued feeding him until about 2 yrs in the night. I think it was when baby 2 came along when J was 6 that they stopped going to him in the night. Did we want to wait 6 years for brownbear to stop waking in the night?! NO!!

Anyways, it took a couple more nights, but you should have seen J. He was the proudest papa...knowing he was teaching his son a skill he never learned, how to soothe himself back to sleep all on his own. It was an amazing, epiphany-filled journey. Just like we will have to do things he doesn't like in the future (holding our hands to cross the street, refusing him donuts and candy), I feel we spent a good effort in doing this. For our family, it was one of the best things we have ever done together. ZZZ.....

Color Bug by Kevin Murphy

Source: Uploaded by user via Shari on Pinterest

I just bought this today at Swizzlesticks Salon & Spa in Kensington. Obviously I can't make my hair like this, but my stylist did put orange and purple on one side of my hair, the hair underneath, and it looked awesome. I bought the pink colour for 20 bones (after an expensive hair salon visit I have this horrible tendency of then spending more money on makeup as I make my way out the door!). I found the colour faded super bad during an afternoon at the zoo, but maybe I need some hairspray to keep it from fading on a regular hair day. ?
You can't see the colour, but this is a photo of us at the zoo yesterday.

And this was 7 months ago, when Chuck was just 7 months old. Haha, still a baldy, but at least his legs now hang OVER the edge of the stroller seat!

Escape from Calgary

I had a few dreams growing up.

1. Be in the Olympics for Softball.

2. Go to college in the States on a softball scholarship.

3. Live in Waskesiu one day.

4. Live in the mountains (I think I meant literally in a mountain, like a cave...but what can you expect from a prairie girl).

So 1 and 2 both faded away a long time ago. I am happy to say that a few girls we played against did end up achieving those dreams, and for some reason, that was totally sufficient for me, especially when team sports and softball had lost a big thrill for me in my late teens.

So number 3. I went there every summer, my husband went there, and now we all go there for a few days when we can each summer. There is something so attractive about Waskesiu. My first memories are always the town itself. Quaint wooden shops that allow a lazy day of shopping, without having too many to really call it shopping, yet enough that you are guaranteed to blend in if you want. Secondly, the weather. Yes, it's Northern Saskatchewan. So there are mosquitoes, but like the weather in Sask, there are definite seasons, and the mosquitoes have a peak then fade off around August. Of course, then comes the hornets, but again, a short time then gone. The marvellous thing about the weather is this. You have very little wind at all. Every morning is the most peaceful lake you have ever seen.

Every afternoon brings a wind, then more, then a huge thunderstorm that you can watch from a deck somewhere in town, or maybe from the beach house if you tempted fate. After the thunderstorm comes huge rays of sunlight and again, the peaceful lake, even the sounds of loons on most evenings. Because it is so far North, you get the Northern Lights in late summer.

The forest itself is mainly deciduous, but like most Canadian Shield forests, there are some beautiful mixed forests, and plenty of underbrush. Best of all, the forest still has wolves and bears. You can even go out on a wolf howl with Parks staff, trying to howl to the wolves and hear them howl back, in the middle of the night on a long road where you are never sure where you are. It's so thrilling.

We once went there for Amber's wedding and arrived at midnight exactly. Being seasoned Albertans now, we were getting ready to put on the jackets to get out of the car, but lo and behold, it was so warm and humid that none were needed. I miss that living in Calgary. And the air was so fragrant, yet also full of families up and down the cabin street still up visiting in the late summer night.

There is one laundromat, and one gas station. One fancy hotel, and one newer, fancier hotel, that luckily is just out of town not to ruin the town's flavour. There are definite locals, who seem a little spoiled, and a little snobby, and there are always the summer tourists, but after spending many summers in Banff on the weekend, they are nothing like those tourists. They are Saskies, drinking, partying, and gone by Monday.

I am never sure about living there though. The cabins aren't winterized, so no one can live there besides a few hotel and Parks staff. So you have to really be there all summer to get your "money's worth". The alternative is to have a cabin outside the town, but so much of my love lays with the town, with the people. Oh, I forgot to mention that there's even a theatre there. Just one theatre, literally, one screen. With newish movies. It's also quaint and perfect for some reason. There is one main ice cream place with people always sitting around it. All ages, teens, babies, the elderly.

Then there is the lake. the lake has water that seems to heal, at least for me. On the very rare days (about one in seven) that there is a wind, people gather to watch the exciting white caps on the lake. For Saskies, this is a rare event with water. But swimming in those waves is the most exhilirating experience in my life. It always seems as though the turbidity from the waves makes the water warmer, and I'm not the only one to claim that. We ponder whether it is more a result of the smaller difference between the air temperature and the water (since windy days are always cooler), or the actual waves. But nothing beats going in that lake on a typical hot prairie summer day, with the sand burning your feet as you run in to frigid water.

I think I will live there one day. Live might mean just the summer, but I love it so much. I'm a little scared that doing it will break the spell I've been under with Waskesiu my whole life, but I also feel I can't die having not tried.

Learningtryin

I get so restless when I am not in the process of learning something. It isn't even so much as "doing" as actually "learning". Of course, all that research I did into happiness correlates well with this sentiment, that for true happiness, we must always be growing, which to me, has always meant "learning" but that is a rather bookish way to say it I guess.

Just as Photoshop became a wild obsession for me until late in the night during university for a short stint, when I was supposed to be sleeping my brain into passing Stats exams, I've lately had a few similar obsessions. The problem is what happens in between these things. Will explain in a sec.

Lately I became slightly addicted to the online software floorplanner.com. It's a European designed software that allows you to create floorplans, then design everything to fit your furniture, or a kitchen of your dreams. When I see a house listing I like, I must (MUST!), sit down no matter how long it takes, and "draw" the floorplan in this program until I'm satisfied that I can feel the house before I have walked in the door. Anyways, I'm telling you all this because in fact I LOVE being that obsessive about something. Mastering a tiny piece of the universe. The downside is that we find a house, or we don't move, and I have no reason to keep using it, or I simply have mastered the skill. SO! Lately, feeling like house hunting is a purposeless pursuit, I am so restless for my next new skill. What will it be! I feel I came and went with yoga for many years in this way, having to teach it, learn it, master it until I ruined every single yoga class afterwards, inwardly scoffing at teachers who were not to the level I wanted. Sigh...if *this* is happiness....you get the point....it's not working.
Meanwhile, I'll indulge you. Here is a house I absolutely love.

After mapping it out on floorplanner, I realize I can't have this house! It has way too many windows that I won't have, and a floorplan that I also won't have. But mapping it out helped me to avoid a huge pitfall. It's like saying you want Cameron Diaz' haircut, when you really want her cheekbones. You gots to know these things!