The Happy Sprinkle (my journey paying it forward): Kony 2012 - Tingles

The Happy Sprinkle (my journey paying it forward): Kony 2012 - Tingles

I'm now adding the word Mommy wine to see if this will link back to this page.

Taking a class in SEO Management

I'm working on an assignment... Here's a link to my lab partner's blog, The Happy Sprinkle (my journey to paying it forward).
Check it out.

My son???

Alright, I admit it. From day-to-day, I never know who my son will be... Some days, he's Puss in Boots - with a sword, hat with long feather, and boots (of course).  Other days, he's a pirate, saying 'yo matey'.  He can also be 'Handy Manny', complete with a toolbox full of tools.

Well, yesterday, he said he wanted to wear his 'Winnie the Pooh' pyjammas.  I didn't think he had any. I guess he does now.  Just before Halloween I bought a Winnie the Pooh costume, thinking he would wear it trick or treating.  (He decided to be Puss in Boots instead because that's the only costume he wore for weeks - EVERYWHERE). The outfit sat in the closet for months, and I started debating taking it to a second hand store.  Last night, he discovered it, insisting he put it on.  So, rather than having a son, I cuddled with Winnie the Pooh and his honey filled tummy.

Pinterest...

I am trying something new from a social media perspective... Pinterest. Still not sure how it works, or why it might be beneficial... But I will see what happens.

Basically, it seems like a one stop, on-line way of finding all the links and sites you're interested in... And, you can see what other like-minded folks find wonderful.  I'll keep you posted, if it's worth it.

I haven't linked it to any of my external accounts, yet. I don't know if I can trust the concept. If I think it's cool, I'll add it to show you the trouble I can get into... LOL.

To be quite frank, as always, I've added a South Park avatar, so I can link the Pinterest page to this website. Besides, I think the avatar is pretty cute.

Have any of you tried Pinterest?  Does it keep your interest? (Sorry. Too much Dr. Seuss)

South Park Figure

Even when he's naughty...

Even when he's  naughty, my son makes me laugh.

Yesterday, he decided to draw on the floor. Draw on the floor? I've heard of  kids drawing on walls, but never on floors.  It was cute. I tried not to laugh, explaining that he should never draw on the floor, but it  was so cute. Perhaps I have a budding young artist...

All men are beautiful in the eyes of the women that love them

Earlier this week, I posted the video below on my Facebook page. The first comment posted was from friend of mine from Ontario, who said her pastor looks like the man featured in the commercial. I smiled. She is the pastor's wife. He is a wonderful man, but by no means does he  look like the hunk in the clip.  He's older, is a bit pudgy, and has started to gray.

 

Of course, her comment was followed by other comments about how lucky she was to have such a beautiful pastor. She is lucky.  But not the way the other's think.

It's awesome she thinks her man is the man in the commercial.  When you look at a man through the eyes of love, the man is your hero and the most gorgeous man on the planet.

I'm not sure how the world sees my man. In my eyes, he is the most beautiful man on earth. It doesn't matter that he's starting to bald or that his abs aren't as cut as they once were. All that matters is that I love him for all the wonderful things he is... and for the amazing and talented person he is. To me, he is a gorgeous hunk and will always be. He is my shining star and my world. I love him with all my heart, and I am so grateful that he's mine.

Is Facebook making us miserable?

In a recent article in the Huffington Post, author Daniel Gulati postulated that the most dominant communication platform, Facebook, is making us miserable. Regrettably, I have to agree. (Of course, I don't have the courage to post this on my Facebook page... LOL).

Facebook, and social media such as Twitter, along with text messaging and constant access to smart phones, means that we suddenly have instant access to everything and everyone all the time.

How many times have you gone to a meeting or a party and noticed how many people were on their smart phones? As Mr. Gulati discusses in his article, our thoughts become splintered. Suddenly we're not focusing on what we're doing, we're focusing on other things. We're not 'present in the now' and end up not participating in our lives.  We become observers. Observers in other's lives, and observers of our own. (I wonder how much of this creates adult attention deficit disorder...) We can't concentrate on the here and now.

And, then come the comparisons... You see photos of people on beaches, their nice homes, comments about trips to the gym, how great their kids are etc, and you start to compare yourself to them.  In this sometimes glowing Facebook world, we never see the late nights, the struggles, the fears - just the things on the surface. We're often comparing ourselves to this false ideal of what other people's lives are like, and inevitably coming up short.  Facebook can be the Photoshopped models in magazines... an impossible ideal, a plastic world.

Then, there are those who use Facebook to gripe. Gripe about EVERYTHING from their kids, to in laws, to their homes and more. You have to wonder if this is a cry for attention, a way for their `friends` to notice them.

Or they might use Facebook for passive-aggressive comments and behaviours. It's easy to hide behind the text. You don't have to say the nasty things face-to-face. 

Words can't hurt? Cyberbullying via Facebook is now becoming more common.  Tragically, this has driven people to suicide, as has been publicised in the news lately.

Is there a solution? In today`s society, you can`t avoid Facebook, social media and smart phones. Unless you become a hermit, it is a daily reality. Mr. Gulati suggests we spend more time talking to people in person and limit our interactions via Facebook to one visit a day.

I agree, in theory. In reality, this is hard to do. But, I think that in order for our society to have healthy children and adults, we need to spend more time with people in person, not on the computer.

Goodbye dear Snoopy

Tonight, I watched a doctor put my brother's cat, Snoopy, down.  Snoopy had been sick for about a year and a half, and my brother and partner did everything they could to save him. They would give injections and IV's. This cat was their baby... Pure and simple.

They loved this little kitty from the moment they laid eyes on his black body with a little tuft of white fur on his chin and his feet and adopted him on the spot.  Snoopy proved to be a lovely companion. Always there to make them smile, even on darker days. Snoopy would play peek-a-boo and loved toys, especially 'bananas' and straws. This kitty was a cuddler, who loved to be held. A part of the family.

Yesterday, we dropped him off at the vet's, with the hope he would survive just a little longer, because my brother's partner is out of town until next week. Sadly, the call came. He had a heart attack, and we should be there as soon as possible. When we arrived, he was in an incubator with an oxygen mask on. Not moving. Barely acknowledging us.  We made it just in time.

Thankfully, my brother had a chance to cuddle him one last time and felt him go limp in his arms. And, with a small injection into his IV, little Snoopy, who graced us with his life for seven years,  was gone.

My brother is devastated.  This is just so sad. I'm just glad we could be there to say goodbye to this precious little creature.

Whew! I'm back!

Argh!  I've been trying to login to this blog account for, well, forever.  I even threatened to create a new blog (in my head, not outloud). But today, I realised this blog uses another email address - one that I don't access very often. What a relief! I didn't want to start all over again.

Thanks for your patience! I'm back now!

Things kids say...

My little guy is still working on pronunciation of some words, and sometimes words he says come out sounding a little bit perverted.  "Falcon" sounds like "f*cking", and "peacock" sounds like "big cock."  Oops.

On Canada Day, however, my son said the funniest thing.  We were in the womens' locker room changing to go swimming.  Naked women were everywhere.  As clear as a bell, he embraced the spirit of the day and said (loudly...), "I want a beaver!"  Yeah.

Mommies and Wine

Let's face it.  I love a nice glass of wine from time-to-time.  Not daily, not monthly, just once in a while.  Maybe 4-5 times a year.  I love the taste of a crisp white, or a bold, fruity red, or the sweetness of an ice wine.  I have a small wine collection that would make some people weep with joy. (It's a collection because I buy wine and don't drink it, even though the wine is appealing to me).  Some of these bottles cost over $100.  Many are over $50.

I don't need a glass of wine every day.  Bottles are opened when appropriate or when I have a craving.  Or, quite frankly, when I need wine in a recipe.

Now it looks like wines are being marketed directly towards Moms.

The prevailing viewpoint seems to be that it's about time that women are targets of alcohol advertising.  Not primarily men. Potential for alcohol abuse seems to be confused with feminism.

There is a danger.  Women are now becoming addicted to substances more frequently than ever in history.  And, it's harder for women than men to quit once they become addicted to something.  Moms who drink and plan on having more children do put their future children at risk of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and developmental delays, if they are drinking while pregnant (before they know they are pregnant).

Also, there might be a link between parents who drink alcohol freely in front of their children and potential for alcohol abuse when the children are older.

Yes, women and Moms will drink alcohol, and I'm not against it. But, I tend to air on the side of caution when it comes to drinking in front of children or drinking to help "sooth nerves" at the end of a long day... And that holds true regardless of parental gender.

Wish

I know it's impossible, but I really wish my Dad could be here with us, not just spiritually, but physically too.

He'd love the fact that S and I are together, and he would have enjoyed conversations about their shared interests.  He would have helped with the house and enjoyed learning about all the details go in building our house.

He'd love all three of his grandkids and make them a priority.  He'd spend every moment he could with them, taking them for walks, telling them stories, and playing with toys - especially the train sets - with them.  We'd go to parks and the zoo, and experience outdoors together.

He'd love the similarities between T and him.  The way the both love hot pools, the mountains and cherries. 

He'd love his intensity and his desire to learn.

He'd love how T says, "I love books" and tells stories of his favourite things. 

He'd love watching T jump up and down, chase bubbles, 'cook' food, play inside his castle and try to be like Daddy.

Dad would love going to the Farmer's Markets, be amazed by the C-Train construction, and doing every day things like going to the bakery or visiting Cross Iron Mills (Bass Pro).

He'd appreciate a good cup of coffee from my favourite coffee shops, and love the new gourmet donut place I'm so fond of.

He'd listen, give advice, and be there whenever we needed him, just like he was when he was alive.

I miss you Dad...  There was so much more for you to experience here.  But, I'm  glad that we were able to enjoy the time we shared together when you were alive.  I treasure those moments in my heart, and look with your eyes at the magic around us.  Love you Dad!

Handsome

T is 100% Daddy.

Daddy is a plumber/gasfitter, so his standard uniform is a t-shirt, with a buttoned shirt on top.

On Friday, as I was getting T ready to go to the dayhome, I helped him put on a t-shirt, then he insisted I help him put a buttoned shirt on top too.  When I finished the top button, he smiled at me and said, "I'm handsome.  I'm handsome like Daddy."  I agreed with him and gave him a great big hug.

Miracle babies

Last week, when I finally took the little guy swimming again, I met the most beautiful little girl.  The nine month old, with big blue eyes, was so curious and couldn't stop smiling.

As Moms tend to do, we started to share our kid stories.  I learned that when the Mom was in her early 40s, she tried everything to conceive a child, and nothing happened. She and her husband gave up, and she followed her career path.  She excelled at work and was even offered a position in France.  Surprisingly, at 47, she discovered she was pregnant (totally unplanned and unexpected), and the world changed.  She finally conceived the baby she desperately wanted - the little girl playing before us.

It was obvious that this tiny miracle was going to do something special with her life and was an amazing gift.

When I hear stories like this or read stories about babies who are born despite struggles to conceive, like Calamity Jen's, it reinforces what miracles and gifts little babies are and that they should never be taken for granted.  It also reminds us that miracles can happen even when all hope is seemingly gone.  The world would be a much better place if more miracles could happen for people who would make loving parents.  And, I'm always praying for miracles.

Trying something new... sort of

Let's face it.  Being a somewhat large woman, organized sports or activities are frightening.  I'm clumsy, awkward and don't readily fit into the entire choreographed activity thing.

However, because I've been sick and not feeling any better, I decided I needed to try something to regain my strength.  I thought yoga might be a way to start.  For a person who isn't an insect stick figure and can barely touch her toes, the very act of signing up for a class - albeit a drop-in class - was terrifying.  Intimidated by the prospect, I still signed up on Tuesday for a 'beginner class' which runs on Fridays - with the hopes it would help my recovery.

I woke up this morning with a sense of dread.  Maybe I could find a way to get out of class today.  T did have a stuffy nose.  Maybe I could say my son was sick, and I could bail.  Besides, T REALLY wanted to go swimming - an activity far more appealing to me, as long as my little man was with me. Panic, panic, panic.  But, wait, I thought to myself.  I don't have yoga clothes or a yoga mat. Argh.  Yes. I did find stuff to wear... and if I needed a mat, I'm sure the registration lady would have mentioned it.

So, I dropped off my boy at the dayhome and ran some errands.  I was running behind, and worried I'd be late.  I returned to my Mom's, put on my outfit (vowed NEVER to wear this out in public unless I was going to a yoga class), and drove to the studio with my anxiety levels increasing the closer I got to my destination.

The class was scheduled for 2:00, and I arrived 10 minutes early.  I told the receptionist that I made it in pretty good time.  She looked confused.  What are you here for? Yoga.  Oops... she said.  I forgot to call you.  The class was cancelled today because the instructor was sick.

So much for my courage.  Sigh.

Groan...

I know so many people going through such angst, heartache, strife and stress right now, that I sure don't feel sorry for those with a litany of First World complaints. Please cram some Perspective Pie down yon gullets.

No... I didn't write this. This was my sister-in-law's Facebook update this evening. 

Okay... she's notorious for writing somewhat inappropriate Facebook status updates.  Many bug me.  This is just the most recent.

Reading this makes me angry.  How can someone blatantly disregard and invalidate other people's feelings and issues without understanding context?

Yes. People complain.  Obviously, she's no exception.  Neither am I.  But, just because you're not going through something like an earthquake or nuclear meltdown, it doesn't mean a person's feelings are any less important than any others. 

Yes.  Perspective is important. Recognising that some of the things we moan about as a society may not be matters of life and death is part of this perspective.  However, we can't completely ignore our cultural understanding.  Things that may seem small on a global 'worry list' still may be very important within our cultural context.

Everyone has a different experience and is in a different space in their development and understanding of how the world works. You can't invalidate their feelings just because they don't conform to your own.

I have NO idea why she wrote this update... And, I'm not going to ask.  I'll just grit my teeth, and hope her words don't reflect what society in general thinks.  I'd like to think that people are more understanding of others and not so quick to judge.

Making lemonade

Sick leave sucks.

I'm not a fan of sitting still, so being on sick leave kinda truly sucks.

For the most part, the little guy is at the dayhome next door to my Mom's. But, I feel guilty for not spending more quality time with him. So, I decided earlier this week that after my appointment today, I would take him 'swimming'. I went by my brother's house to pick up our swimming things (I really should be more organized), and on the drive back to pick up the munchkin, I noticed most of the lights along the main streets were out (including traffic lights). Of course, swimming pool A is along that route. I suspected the electricity in that neighbourhood was out or limited, so I thought we'd go to swimming destination B.

As T and I were driving to destination B, I noticed the traffic to the off-ramp was backed up considerably... I decided to keep driving and see how bad it really was... REALLY BAD... backed up for several kms.

So, I groaned. T was really excited about going swimming, and I didn't want to let him down.

I quickly called the local number to confirm that swimming pool A was closed... and I was right.

Hmm... What to do? What to do? I didn't want to spoil his special afternoon by not doing something special (esp. because I pulled him out of the dayhome where he was having fun dancing around). We then drove to the movie theatre near our home. Poo... The first movie wasn't set to start until early evening.

Okay... I started muttering about lemons... Then I remembered a rec centre near my father-in-laws. So, I drove over there. Fingers crossed.

We arrived. It was open and had multiple areas where we could practice our 'swimming.' What a relief! So, the little guy and I enjoyed our newly discovered recipe for lemonade...in the form of a local rec centre.

Officially off sick

Battling this virus and trying to minimise work-related stress has contributed to my neurological issues, so now I'm on sick leave until I feel better. I hope this fog lifts quickly. It's hard to feel sick and be a Mom of an active and energetic three year old. I can't meet his needs as much as I feel I should. But, I know I have to get better - if not for my own sake, for his.

Not sure how long I'll be off - at least until the end of the month, when I see my own doctor and complete insurance forms. When you're accustomed to working almost all of the time, sick leave isn't a welcome respite. It's a time wrought with guilt for not being able to get things done - either at the office or at home. All I want to do is get better, so things can go back to normal... My normal at least.

My fingers are crossed for a speedy recovery.

A few observations

Here are a few thoughts from today.

This week, I was off sick, still trying to fight the virus that T and I had in mid-February (still not better). I stayed at my Mom's for more than a week. Only a couple coworkers said I hope you feel better soon. Now how's that for the warm fuzzies? (To be fair, I'm not sure how many people knew I was away sick, and I get embarassed about being sick... so maybe this is an irrelevant point).

However...the Second Cup lady noticed that T and I hadn't been by for our hot chocolate for an entire week. Sigh.

But... Being sick means you lose weight without even trying. I'm down more than 10 pounds!

Argh... It's possible to "read" a book without reading a page. I started to read a book yesterday - I'm even about a quarter way through - and I have no idea what I read or what the book is about.

Huh?... Why is it that your hair never looks as good as it does when you leave the salon?

Next... Now that we're back at my brother's, my son brought be a carton of eggs. I was starting to question my sanity, wondering if I bought too many eggs, then I decided to check the fridge. Imagine my surprise to discover he took one dozen eggs that were in the fridge egg holder and placed them in the carton. Then, he decided to put the carton back into the Farmer's Market cart. Pretty cute and somewhat funny.

And... Sometimes, a short message can put a smile on your face. I received a FB message from someone I usually don't hear from, and it made me happy.

Then...It's nice to be home. Even if it is my temporary home. It's great to be surrounded by our own stuff... at least some of our stuff.

And, finally... My heart hurts for those in Japan right now. The earthquakes and tsunamis today are horrifying.

Three years ago today...

Three years ago today, my life changed.

Heavily (and I mean HEAVILY) pregnant with baby T, three years ago today I went into labour. After a difficult pregnancy (where I was in pain most of the time) and a few false starts, it was an odd realisation that the little twinges I felt every seven then five minutes a part might be the start of the magic moment when I could finally meet my little child.

We didn't officially know if we were going to have a baby boy or baby girl. In my heart, I knew T was going to be a boy. About a year and a half before he was born, I had a vision... right before falling asleep...of my man and I cuddling. In this vision, he put his hand on my belly and felt the baby move around, and we knew he was going to be a boy. This was a few months after my man and I started dating, so this vision was premature - to say the least. And, throughout my pregnancy, the little guy knew he was a boy. He'd kick like mad in hardware stores and stay very still in 'girl stores' like Sephora.

March 11, 2008 was a bit odd. My man and I went to apply for my EI, then decided to stop by my brother's house to visit him and my niece. I remember experiencing a few twinges and thinking 'Nah, this can't be it. I'd have to be in more pain." Of course, this is after visiting the hospital a few times with false labour.

It was almost surreal, and I was in total denial. My brother and my man both suggested we go to the hospital. I laughed, saying that I we'd be sent right back home. But, the baby was due on March 9th... so..

During the long drive(well, at least it felt like a long drive) to the hospital, I started to call folks and leave messages on people's voicemail - indicating we were on our way, but that we'd likely be calling to follow-up to say we were back home again.

When we went to the maternity ward, the nurse took one look at me and said, "You're not in labour. You're not in enough pain." At that moment, I KNEW I was in labour (I had to prove her wrong), and sure enough, I was about six or seven centimetres dilated (much to her apologetic shock). So, I checked in and they wheeled me into the delivery room.

I had hoped my Mom and my man would be my birth coaches, but unfortunately, it didn't work out that way. My Mom was very sick with the flu and couldn't make it. So, my man and I decided that his sister would be my co-coach.

My birth plan was pretty simple. I wanted a natural birth, but I would be okay with anything as long as it resulted in a healthy baby. At first, it was okay. Then I started to enjoy laughing gas to take the sting off.

But, then the baby was in distress. There was meconium in my amniotic fluid and his pulse rate started to be higher than acceptable. The doctor's decided to have an emergency C-section. In my pain-filled haze, I signed an okay to get the procedure done.

I was wheeled into the operating room, and my man was there with me along (so much for him taking breaks). He held my hand and watched as our baby boy was born. I didn't know what was going on; all I knew was that someone was feeling around my belly. Then, at 2:15 am on March 12, 2008, I heard the most magical sound ever. My baby was crying. I asked if it was a boy or a girl. He was a boy, and he was healthy. Both my man and I cried. Then after the doctors and nurses worked their magic, my man let me hold our baby for the first time.

He was beautiful in a wrinkly old man kind of way. We started to ask him what he wanted to be called. He had a slight smile at T and winced at the other names we suggested, so baby T was named.

In my exhausted haze, I fell in love with him. And, I continue to fall in love with him a little more everyday. He is the best gift I've ever received, and I'm so thankful to be his Mom.