Each January, while millions are setting themselves up for failure by promising to change their wicked ways, I quietly reflect on the previous year and think about what the focus of my new year will be. Then I wait for Chinese New Year, when most people have fallen off the wagon, and quietly begin my evolution. Of course by March/April, I too have tumbled off the Radio Flyer and am looking for redemption, resurrection and renewal once again.
That's where Spring and Easter come in. A chance for a fresh start. Everything is being born again and so am I. The key word this year is SHEDDING.
1. Shedding inhibitions. Being a Mommy can be a lonely thing. I don't know any other moms in my neighbourhood, so Nate and I usually just go for walks on our own. I inevitably feel weird about talking to Nate in public (there's only so much "What's that? Is that a tree? Yeah? Is that a tree Nate?" I can do before feeling like an idiot.) and end up in the Dominion, the only place within walking distance that isn't packed to the tits with hipsters and can actually fit my stroller comfortably.
Couple that with all the nasty weather we had this winter and you've got one bad case of Cabino Fever. So I resolve this Spring to get more active. Even if that means talking baby talk in public or having to make "Mommy" friends. (Though the latte-weilding, Bugaboo-pushing, Cosmo-moms in my 'hood are quite intimidating -- must get over it.)
2. Shedding the baby-weight. I must lose this pooch. It's really bothering me. I am fully aware that I am 30+ and will never have to, nor should I, reveal my midriff full-time a la Brittney, but still. That JLo "Get Right" video makes me entertain the thought.
The problem is the lack of time to cook or eat properly. I am an accomplished cook and absolutely LOVE spending time in the kitchen. BUT I HAVE NO TIME TO SHOWER LET ALONE COOK! I have to learn some serious time management so I can start taking better care of myself.
And I resolve not to skip any more Baby and Me classes. But how do you plan for the unexpected? Last Saturday, I got stuck at the walk-in clinic, desperate for some meds to relieve my aching bladder. Last Monday, as I was just out the door, my sis-in-law showed up unexpectedly. Sheesh! So I also resolve that when I can't make a class I must go on a one hour walk to make up for the missed activity.
3. Shedding my skin. Mommy whore-mones have made my skin a nightmare. I am also seriously overdue for a pedicure. I resolve to take care of my dead skin by taking a few minutes each day to properly cleanse, exfoliate and moisturize. I also resolve to drink more water so that I'm hydrated and cut down on skin-aggravating foods like cheese and chocolate (alright! It's just a wishlist!).
I will go for pedicures at least once every three weeks as time permits. And I will slather my skin with the yummy Origins creams that UK Hattie sent me. (smells like a creamsicle!) While we're on the subject of creams, I highly recommend this slightly pricey number from Sephora, Korres Guava Body Butter. Smells like the beach and feels unbelievable.
4. Shedding my attitude. I need to remember that at the butt of every joke, there's a human being. And although I may not see eye-to-eye with that human being (Pamela Anderson in a bookstore? Who thought of that dumbass idea?) I have to realize that their feelings may get hurt if they find out what I've said -- no matter how funny it is, or how much better it makes me feel. I made some grave mistakes last year due to hormones and being in a really unhappy situation for 8 hours a day. I don't wish to be that nasty person again. So I will try to focus on the positive (Stacked is actually a clever title for that dumbass show -- OK, I'm trying.)
Growing up with an untraditional type of beauty (read: big nose girl, not exactly the cheerleader type), I realize that I've had to compensate by creating this tough, snarky shell. But I need to let that go, start thinking before I speak and stop offending people just to get a laugh. There is such a thing as being too honest. That being said, I won't be sugar-coating anything about MYSELF on these pages, so fret not.
5. Shedding my hair. OK, this is not a resolution, but more of a WTF? Did any other moms go through this nightmare? My hair is falling out at an alarming rate, rivalled only by the shedding rate of the cat. But I swear it's a close call. I brush, I come it out in the shower, and still it is all over my house! What can I do? They don't make a swiffer sheet strong enough.
Also, I need to keep up the de-sasquatching a bit more. The Dog will have sex with me no matter how hairy I get, but seriously -- I shouldn't take advantage of that fact. Queen Nomad and I have a pact that if either of us ever becomes incapacitated, the other is responsible for keeping up the grooming of her vegetated friend. Admittedly (thank goodness) I am not in a Terry Schaivo state, but I am unable to take proper care of myself these days. Where are you Queen Nomad? I need a wax! Or at least for you to make fun of me enough to get me off my lazy ass and try to put a bit of glamour on!
Anyway, that's all I can think of for now. But I think it's plenty to work on until September when I'll inevitably try again. Something about the kids going back to school that gives us all another chance at a new beginning.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Thursday, April 21, 2005
I love you from the bottom of my nether-regions
The Dog has been working nights for the past month, and I see him off every day at 4 pm as a result. This obviously leaves a perfect window for Natey and I to curl up on the rocking chair to nurse: his hungry mouth with some boob, and my tired soul with some church of Oprah. Today the sermon was on moms. Specifically, the sex lives of moms.
Being that I got a Urinary Tract Infection this weekend (one of the most painful sexual hazzards) and had to go through the nightmare of being prescribed an antibiotic that isn't breastfeeding-friendly (Cipro by the way. Two walk-in-clinics and prescriptions later, all was fine.) all in the name of marital love, this piqued my interest.
It all began with THIS ARTICLE by Ayelet Waldman. She feels like she doesn't fit in with other moms who view sex as a chore, while she is enjoying sizzling, steamy trysts with her husband -- even after four kids. Of course the show got off on a crazy, angry-mom tangent because Ms. Waldman dared to write in the NY Times, "I love my husband more than my children."
I have to admit, I don't know how I feel about that statement. It's somewhat unsettling. I have always been raised to feel that a mother's love for her spouse is just "different" than the love she feels for her children. So that sentence seems quite loaded to me. But I also know first-hand that putting your children at the centre of your universe can have potentially damaging effects on a family. I strongly believe that the relationship between the mother and the father should be the central one of the family and that it's important to try to maintain some semblance of what you two had BC: Before Children. Unfortunately, this article gives one the feeling that this woman isn't the least bit passionate about her children and that's the hard part to swallow, or spit for that matter.
I love my son madly and am dedicated to his growth as a person. His contributions to the future correlate with my overall contribution to the world. But the same could be said about my love and responsibility to my husband. Unlike Ayelet Waldman, I believe in balance. But I agree with some of the points she makes, although (and because) I was raised in an environment quite opposite from the one she provides for her family. I grew up in a household where we (the kids) were the sun AND the moon in our mother's eyes. It wasn't till the fit hit the shan and my father's mid-life crisis was exposed that any of us realized this could be a problem.
The famous example my father gave of feeling unimportant was a lunch involving two hot dogs and two hamburgers. My mother gave the hamburgers to my sister and I, leaving my dad with the measly hot dogs. My mother's mentality was that we were growing, and thus needed the big beef vs. the skinny weiners. My father felt slighted for being left with the beaks and assholes. Shouldn't he, as the big strapping man of the house, surely be honoured with the beef? This story came to be the symbol of the major problem in their marriage. The kids came first and so they forgot to be considerate of each other and balance the emotional books.
My father strayed. He had a lengthy affair with a woman he worked with. And not some hot young secretary. She was a middle-aged, overweight mother of four. She just happened to be nearby (she worked with him) at a time where he needed attention. He worked shift-work and by the time he got home, my mother was probably too tired to look at him with any semblance of lust or romantic interest.
I always look at that hiccup in their marriage as a positive event. Sure, we all went through hell (I can barely even talk about those horrid years). It didn't help that my mom went through menopause and two teenage daughters in the middle of it all. But when my dad moved back home, they finally made the marriage a priority. Her newfound attention for my dad gave us crucial breathing room at a time when we were exploring our independance and boundaries as young women. (I perhaps took too many liberties at this point.) But after years of adjusting the doses of love between kids and spouse, Mom finally got it right and the whole household was better off for it. For a while at least.
The negative effect of my mother putting us first still haunts me as an adult. Because we feel my mother has barely any interests or passions outside her family (just gardening, but that's only a few months out of the year), we all baby her and in fact, babysit her. I still call her at least once a day, because it makes her day and I can't deal with the guilt if I don't. Though my father claims that the world is my backyard, I know that I will never move away as long as she's alive. I have a hard time making decisions without thinking about her feelings or her wants.
My sister is nearing 30 and still lives at home. She is once again the centre of the universe, but now my father has subscribed to this too. And they make it terribly tempting for her to stay. Free rent, cable, phone, the laundry done... etc. How can she even begin to look for meaningful adult relationships when the message being sent daily is that no one will love her more or treat her better than my parents? And how can she get herself some when she's rooming with Mom and Pop?
So back to the sex. I am passionate about my husband. In fact, I'm pretty sure that after 5 years of marriage we are a rarity in that we are still all over each other. Sometimes sex is a chore, a wifely duty, but most of the time I am that same horny teenager who grew up and found someone whose eyes make her weak at the knees. When the Dog makes me laugh my pants off, it's literal. I am turned on by his sense of humour. And seeing him as the amazing father he is, holding our son who I am in love with in a completely "different" way, makes me want to "practice" having more children. Love is not 100% about sex, but sex is an integral part of intimacy. So in this I agree with Ayelet Waldman. If you are not making time to make love to your spouse, you are in jeopardy of growing apart and possibly losing the main relationship that your family foundation is built on.
However, taking care of a newborn is exhausting and time-consuming. Natey needs us a lot right now and neither of us is willing to put him second just yet. I know that I have passions outside being a mom, but really who has the f*cking time? I try to write, but I'm barely blogging once-a-week these days and staying up all hours to do so. I'm showering on Day 4 sometimes! My son brings me joys I had only imagined possible, but some days I wish he'd stop needing me long enough to get more than just my dishes done.
Needless to say, these aren't exactly favourable conditions for a hot sex life. So at the moment, the Dog and I take turns with the Nate-sponsibilities and squeeze the sex in when we can. And now the UTI has placed an added obstacle. And I'm not even a mom who's had vaginal birth! I can't even begin to imagine the pain down there after pushing a baby out. But like I said, balance is everything. A little patience and a lot of communication doesn't hurt either. It will all even out if we keep talking and work at it. So what if sometimes you gotta "fake it until you can make it" or "take one for the team"? Sex, like exercise, is actually a lot of fun once you're doing it. It's the effort involved in getting there that makes most of us come up with excuses for abstinence.
I know Nate isn't going to need so much attention forever and eventually I will get a chance to focus on my career and other desires once again, though possibly not with that BC fervour. And that's OK too. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. I got plenty to go around and two prescriptions and a long-ass blog entry to prove it.
Amen and Hallelujah!
Being that I got a Urinary Tract Infection this weekend (one of the most painful sexual hazzards) and had to go through the nightmare of being prescribed an antibiotic that isn't breastfeeding-friendly (Cipro by the way. Two walk-in-clinics and prescriptions later, all was fine.) all in the name of marital love, this piqued my interest.
It all began with THIS ARTICLE by Ayelet Waldman. She feels like she doesn't fit in with other moms who view sex as a chore, while she is enjoying sizzling, steamy trysts with her husband -- even after four kids. Of course the show got off on a crazy, angry-mom tangent because Ms. Waldman dared to write in the NY Times, "I love my husband more than my children."
I have to admit, I don't know how I feel about that statement. It's somewhat unsettling. I have always been raised to feel that a mother's love for her spouse is just "different" than the love she feels for her children. So that sentence seems quite loaded to me. But I also know first-hand that putting your children at the centre of your universe can have potentially damaging effects on a family. I strongly believe that the relationship between the mother and the father should be the central one of the family and that it's important to try to maintain some semblance of what you two had BC: Before Children. Unfortunately, this article gives one the feeling that this woman isn't the least bit passionate about her children and that's the hard part to swallow, or spit for that matter.
I love my son madly and am dedicated to his growth as a person. His contributions to the future correlate with my overall contribution to the world. But the same could be said about my love and responsibility to my husband. Unlike Ayelet Waldman, I believe in balance. But I agree with some of the points she makes, although (and because) I was raised in an environment quite opposite from the one she provides for her family. I grew up in a household where we (the kids) were the sun AND the moon in our mother's eyes. It wasn't till the fit hit the shan and my father's mid-life crisis was exposed that any of us realized this could be a problem.
The famous example my father gave of feeling unimportant was a lunch involving two hot dogs and two hamburgers. My mother gave the hamburgers to my sister and I, leaving my dad with the measly hot dogs. My mother's mentality was that we were growing, and thus needed the big beef vs. the skinny weiners. My father felt slighted for being left with the beaks and assholes. Shouldn't he, as the big strapping man of the house, surely be honoured with the beef? This story came to be the symbol of the major problem in their marriage. The kids came first and so they forgot to be considerate of each other and balance the emotional books.
My father strayed. He had a lengthy affair with a woman he worked with. And not some hot young secretary. She was a middle-aged, overweight mother of four. She just happened to be nearby (she worked with him) at a time where he needed attention. He worked shift-work and by the time he got home, my mother was probably too tired to look at him with any semblance of lust or romantic interest.
I always look at that hiccup in their marriage as a positive event. Sure, we all went through hell (I can barely even talk about those horrid years). It didn't help that my mom went through menopause and two teenage daughters in the middle of it all. But when my dad moved back home, they finally made the marriage a priority. Her newfound attention for my dad gave us crucial breathing room at a time when we were exploring our independance and boundaries as young women. (I perhaps took too many liberties at this point.) But after years of adjusting the doses of love between kids and spouse, Mom finally got it right and the whole household was better off for it. For a while at least.
The negative effect of my mother putting us first still haunts me as an adult. Because we feel my mother has barely any interests or passions outside her family (just gardening, but that's only a few months out of the year), we all baby her and in fact, babysit her. I still call her at least once a day, because it makes her day and I can't deal with the guilt if I don't. Though my father claims that the world is my backyard, I know that I will never move away as long as she's alive. I have a hard time making decisions without thinking about her feelings or her wants.
My sister is nearing 30 and still lives at home. She is once again the centre of the universe, but now my father has subscribed to this too. And they make it terribly tempting for her to stay. Free rent, cable, phone, the laundry done... etc. How can she even begin to look for meaningful adult relationships when the message being sent daily is that no one will love her more or treat her better than my parents? And how can she get herself some when she's rooming with Mom and Pop?
So back to the sex. I am passionate about my husband. In fact, I'm pretty sure that after 5 years of marriage we are a rarity in that we are still all over each other. Sometimes sex is a chore, a wifely duty, but most of the time I am that same horny teenager who grew up and found someone whose eyes make her weak at the knees. When the Dog makes me laugh my pants off, it's literal. I am turned on by his sense of humour. And seeing him as the amazing father he is, holding our son who I am in love with in a completely "different" way, makes me want to "practice" having more children. Love is not 100% about sex, but sex is an integral part of intimacy. So in this I agree with Ayelet Waldman. If you are not making time to make love to your spouse, you are in jeopardy of growing apart and possibly losing the main relationship that your family foundation is built on.
However, taking care of a newborn is exhausting and time-consuming. Natey needs us a lot right now and neither of us is willing to put him second just yet. I know that I have passions outside being a mom, but really who has the f*cking time? I try to write, but I'm barely blogging once-a-week these days and staying up all hours to do so. I'm showering on Day 4 sometimes! My son brings me joys I had only imagined possible, but some days I wish he'd stop needing me long enough to get more than just my dishes done.
Needless to say, these aren't exactly favourable conditions for a hot sex life. So at the moment, the Dog and I take turns with the Nate-sponsibilities and squeeze the sex in when we can. And now the UTI has placed an added obstacle. And I'm not even a mom who's had vaginal birth! I can't even begin to imagine the pain down there after pushing a baby out. But like I said, balance is everything. A little patience and a lot of communication doesn't hurt either. It will all even out if we keep talking and work at it. So what if sometimes you gotta "fake it until you can make it" or "take one for the team"? Sex, like exercise, is actually a lot of fun once you're doing it. It's the effort involved in getting there that makes most of us come up with excuses for abstinence.
I know Nate isn't going to need so much attention forever and eventually I will get a chance to focus on my career and other desires once again, though possibly not with that BC fervour. And that's OK too. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. I got plenty to go around and two prescriptions and a long-ass blog entry to prove it.
Amen and Hallelujah!
Monday, April 11, 2005
Miss Blogger, 30, Canada!
Just debating whether to blog or watch Miss USA pageant. Tough call. They made the girls do this annoying introduction, where they came out and announced the usual--name, age, state-- but then they made each one of them scream USA after their state. "Jennifer Spompanato, 22, Miss New Jersey, USA!" Like how stupid can you be? It's the Miss USA pageant, we know where y'all are from. Do we really need to enforce that level of patriotism? Anyway, that settled it for me.
The baby is asleep after a horrible day. He just wouldn't stop crying today. He is also drooling like mad, which makes me suspect that perhaps his teeth are beginning their tortuous ascent through his gums. This is just a hunch though, since I don't actually see any teeth poking through yet. Not that he lets me get that good a look into his mouth, mind you. The second I put my hands near his lips, he starts chewing on them. He has been sucking on his fingers, hands and arms so hard that he has actually given himself a hickey! They start so young these days.
Anyway, I went to exercise class today and did not realize, until Nate had been screaming for the last 45 minutes of class, that I should really go because all I had eaten all day was a latte from Cafe Brasilliano. So I did the worst thing possible... I hit the McDonalds drive-thru. There is only nail polish and cheese shrapnels in my fridge, pretty bad. Oh and maybe a brownish stalk of celery that could be saved with some creative carving. When I pulled up to the pay window I realized that I'd better bring some home for the Dog too. Otherwise he would just criticize my eating habits. If I tempt him with a McChicken, then there's no issue. I totally get what Eve was up to in the garden of Eden. She didn't want to go down alone. We are indeed smarter and more evil. That still doesn't justify menstrual cramps and more expensive dry cleaning though.
Anyway, after I finally got home, scarfed down the McCrap, managed to get Nate to stop screaming enough to eat some boob, and shipped the Dog off to work (around 4 pm), I thought, "Hmmm. I probably want to make sure I get me some dinner tonight. Since no one else seems to care whether or not I eat. Grrrrrr." So I took some split pea soup that I had frozen last weekend out to be defrosted. I popped it in the microwave and then decided to throw a battered fish filet into the toaster oven so I would get some protein(ish).
Then I fed Nate some more, got him to stop crying long enough to dust the living room (The con to super-sunny skies is the ability to see every micro-speck of dust and cat hair in the universe). Then I got into the Lysol disinfectant wipes -- bad habit-- and wiped down the phones and the remote controls (don't ask). Then I gave Nate his 7 pm bath at 6:45, which he lovingly crapped in, forcing me to dump it out (no pun intended) and start the bath all over. After the bath is medicine time, which he screamed through. Finally got him dressed and chilled out a bit enough to watch Coronation Street, which was so sad (baby Billy died). Got Nate to stop crying each time I put the boob in his mouth (what's up with that?) so I could feed him his final meal of the day and put him to sleep. All done by 9 pm. Great! Hmmm... starving.
Walk into the kitchen and realize that using the microwave and the toaster oven at the same time had caused the fuse to blow. Good, because I didn't burn my dinner. Bad, because it took me 5 hours to get to my full-of-trans-fats dinner. Oh well, at least I exercised today. Tomorrow I hit Kensington Market to get some real food, although I probably won't find time to cook anything and it will all go bad. So sad. Now I know why moms get porky and have to buy those pleated "mom jeans". *Sigh*
Oh well, back to Miss USA. The talent portion has become a shittier version of American Idol now and I'd like to see who butchers the latest Alicia Keys song best.
The baby is asleep after a horrible day. He just wouldn't stop crying today. He is also drooling like mad, which makes me suspect that perhaps his teeth are beginning their tortuous ascent through his gums. This is just a hunch though, since I don't actually see any teeth poking through yet. Not that he lets me get that good a look into his mouth, mind you. The second I put my hands near his lips, he starts chewing on them. He has been sucking on his fingers, hands and arms so hard that he has actually given himself a hickey! They start so young these days.
Anyway, I went to exercise class today and did not realize, until Nate had been screaming for the last 45 minutes of class, that I should really go because all I had eaten all day was a latte from Cafe Brasilliano. So I did the worst thing possible... I hit the McDonalds drive-thru. There is only nail polish and cheese shrapnels in my fridge, pretty bad. Oh and maybe a brownish stalk of celery that could be saved with some creative carving. When I pulled up to the pay window I realized that I'd better bring some home for the Dog too. Otherwise he would just criticize my eating habits. If I tempt him with a McChicken, then there's no issue. I totally get what Eve was up to in the garden of Eden. She didn't want to go down alone. We are indeed smarter and more evil. That still doesn't justify menstrual cramps and more expensive dry cleaning though.
Anyway, after I finally got home, scarfed down the McCrap, managed to get Nate to stop screaming enough to eat some boob, and shipped the Dog off to work (around 4 pm), I thought, "Hmmm. I probably want to make sure I get me some dinner tonight. Since no one else seems to care whether or not I eat. Grrrrrr." So I took some split pea soup that I had frozen last weekend out to be defrosted. I popped it in the microwave and then decided to throw a battered fish filet into the toaster oven so I would get some protein(ish).
Then I fed Nate some more, got him to stop crying long enough to dust the living room (The con to super-sunny skies is the ability to see every micro-speck of dust and cat hair in the universe). Then I got into the Lysol disinfectant wipes -- bad habit-- and wiped down the phones and the remote controls (don't ask). Then I gave Nate his 7 pm bath at 6:45, which he lovingly crapped in, forcing me to dump it out (no pun intended) and start the bath all over. After the bath is medicine time, which he screamed through. Finally got him dressed and chilled out a bit enough to watch Coronation Street, which was so sad (baby Billy died). Got Nate to stop crying each time I put the boob in his mouth (what's up with that?) so I could feed him his final meal of the day and put him to sleep. All done by 9 pm. Great! Hmmm... starving.
Walk into the kitchen and realize that using the microwave and the toaster oven at the same time had caused the fuse to blow. Good, because I didn't burn my dinner. Bad, because it took me 5 hours to get to my full-of-trans-fats dinner. Oh well, at least I exercised today. Tomorrow I hit Kensington Market to get some real food, although I probably won't find time to cook anything and it will all go bad. So sad. Now I know why moms get porky and have to buy those pleated "mom jeans". *Sigh*
Oh well, back to Miss USA. The talent portion has become a shittier version of American Idol now and I'd like to see who butchers the latest Alicia Keys song best.
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