Some things I love

1. Baby's breath. Not that crappy weed that's used to fill space in expensive flower arrangements, but the actual exhalations of BABIES. It's so sweet and milky and delicious. Mmmmm.

2. Massaging my baby's tummy and getting all the gas out. I get a disturbing amount of pleasure from listening to my baby fart.

Some things I don't love:

1. The smell between my baby's folds of fat in his neck. It smells like a combination of spoiled milk and toe jam, and that crud behind your ears.

2. Earwigs.

Buddha Baby

To prove my point, here is Baby Buddha, in figures A. and B., and the Real Buddha, in figures C.
Note the resemblance.















And, just to prove that my baby IS Buddha, here are the four noble truths that I have learned. FROM MY BABY.

1. Life is suffering;

2. Suffering is due to attachment;

3. Attachment can be overcome;

4. There is a path for accomplishing this.

1. Suffering is perhaps the most common translation for the Sanskrit word duhkha, which can also be translated as imperfect, stressful, or filled with anguish.

Contributing to the anguish is anitya -- the fact that all things are impermanent, including living things like ourselves.

Furthermore, there is the concept of anatman -- literally, "no soul". Anatman means that all things are interconnected and interdependent, so that no thing -- including ourselves -- has a separate existence.

2. Attachment is a common translation for the word trishna, which literally means thirst and is also translated as desire, clinging, greed, craving, or lust. Because we and the world are imperfect, impermanent, and not separate, we are forever "clinging" to things, each other, and ourselves, in a mistaken effort at permanence.

Besides trishna, there is dvesha, which means avoidance or hatred. Hatred is its own kind of clinging.

And finally there is avidya, ignorance or the refusal to see. Not fully understanding the impermanence of things is what leads us to cling in the first place.

3. Perhaps the most misunderstood term in Buddhism is the one which refers to the overcoming of attachment: nirvana. It literally means "blowing out," but is often thought to refer to either a Buddhist heaven or complete nothingness. Actually, it refers to the letting go of clinging, hatred, and ignorance, and the full acceptance of imperfection, impermanence, and interconnectedness.

4. And then there is the path, called dharma. Buddha called it the middle way, which is understood as meaning the middle way between such competing philosophies as materialism and idealism, or hedonism and asceticism. This path, this middle way, is elaborated as the eightfold path.

My Happy Child. Yeah, really!

My apologies for not keeping up to date.

But the thing is...ANGUS HAS CHANGED. He now smiles and grins and squeals with HAPPINESS, and this morning, he even fell asleep OH HIS OWN. I didn't have to swaddle him, or rock him, or scream right along with him, or anything. Well, I did swaddle him, but I left one of his arms out so he could chew on his hand, then placed him in his bouncer chair and he went to sleep almost instantly, after a few seconds of trying to eat his whole entire fist.

Hence, I don't have as much angst, therefore, nothing really to talk about. My baby is perfect. He's fat and happy and he looks at me with love in his eyes, and he's all I ever wanted in a child.

He's my own little Buddha, schooling me every day in all things Zen and Buddhist-y..

Breakfast of champions

I just had ichiban for breakfast.

(And I wonder why these extra twenty pounds are hanging on?)

But in my defense, we are out of eggs, butter, and milk, so all breakfast foods were out of the question.

Dear Extra Twenty Pounds,

please go away. You are not welcome on this body any more. You are slowing me down and making me spend far too much time in front of the mirror practicing my poses that make me look the slimmest. This is time that could be spent bonding with my baby, sitting together watching re-runs of "Fresh Prince." Or you know, getting exercise together.

You have your uses I suppose... like feeding my fat-ass baby. But really, does he need to eat that much anyway? It's not like he's starving.

It was cute when it was stretched over a baby in my belly, but now that I can tuck the car keys into my belly button? NOT SO CUTE.

aaaaaand here is my baby.

Operation 'Get out of the house so I don't lose my mind' = EPIC FAIL.

ANGUS WHY DO YOU HATE ME?!

As soon as we got back here, he stopped screaming and smiled angelically at me. What IS his deal? Is he allergic to outdoors? I DON'T GET IT!

Looks like I'm destined to be a hermit forever. So much for fresh air. So much for Vitamin D. So much for getting a tan. SO MUCH FOR SUMMER.

And guess what? I DIDN'T BRING ENOUGH DIAPERS!!! WHAT WAS I THINKING??? Looks like we'll be using Kara's tea towels. Just kidding. He can sit in his own excrement until Aaron finishes work.

Kara, I ate all your bagel crisps. I hope you don't mind.

Hi Kara, me again.

I was looking for a plastic bag to keep all our garbage in and take home with us when we leave, because I didn't think you'd want to come home to a house smelling like baby shit. I found your bag cupboard. I could tell it was where the bags are kept because there were a couple of plastic bag corners squished out the bottom of the door.

WHY DIDN'T YOU WARN ME ABOUT THIS CUPBOARD?

As soon as I opened it, I got hit in the head with a broom, and then buried alive in plastic bags. I spent close to an hour trying to shove all these bags into this ridiculous skinny little cupboard, and then wedge the broom back in to keep them all contained, but I could not do it. It must be a skill that ONLY YOU possess. How on earth do you keep all these bags contained? How do you manage to get your broom out without being assaulted by little knotted plastic bags?

Anyway, I had to give up, because the act of jamming these little bags in this tall skinny cupboard and then somehow getting the broom in there too and then shutting the door is an act that defies physics, and too complicated for my milk-mushy brain to figure out. So I'm going to have to leave them on your kitchen counter for you to deal with. SORRY!

Also, we finished your vodka. I''m sorry. There was only a swallow in it, but still. We should replace it. Before arriving here last night we were driving around trying to get our screaming baby to shut the hell up. (Apparently he HATES the car now.)
We drove around for about half an hour, grinding our teeth while we listened to what sounded like a gorilla being maimed, before I finally figured out, "HEY, maybe he doesn't like the car." So we came right here, and then he shut right up. But we were both so wound up and jittery, the first thing we did was locate the vodka. I'm sorry. I hope you understand.


Things I forgot to bring:

deodorant.
bra.

I only worry about this because it MAY attract unwanted hippies...

Dear Kara

Thankyou so much for letting us stay in your beautiful home.

It's been kind of like a little holiday for us! Angus actually didn't freak out. Although he didn't let me get any sleep. He woke up every two hours to EAT. What a little pig. Lately he has been eating lots at night, and sleeping lots during the day. I'm not sure how to reverse that.

Anyway, we enjoyed lying together, giggling in your feather bed, while Angus slept in his bouncer chair next to us. We watched Ratatouille, which is the CUTEST MOVIE EVER! We were going to rent a movie, but Reo's was closed for renovations. I actually barely made it through half the movie before I passed out. There MAY be some drool on your pillow. But I'm sure it's dried now and you'll never even know.

It's my duty to chastise you for using crappy shampoo and conditioner. BUT ONLY because I can see that you prefer the finer things everywhere else! You have expensive, organic, DELICIOUS coffee that I'm drinking right now, and you have lots of yummy, delicious, organic food, like those bison burgers that we ate all of. I had to restrain Aaron from flinging some of those burgers on the barbecue in the middle of the night.
Anyway, I am a hypocrite because I myself use Pantene. BUT, we also buy dodgy, discount meat from the discount store.
I am happy to see that you DO have some Aveda pomade :)

So today I will be unable to watch endless episodes of "What Not To Wear," because you have no cable, but I am actually excited about that. It's so nice and QUIET! And because I'm so close to downtown, I'm going to take Angus out in the stroller. Hopefully he'll just sleep, and not scream because he's overtired and can't fall asleep when we're out.
This should encourage me to get off my fat butt and try and walk off this extra twenty pounds that WON'T GO AWAY.

Whoever said breastfeeding helps you lose weight LIED. I'm going to be one of those people who carries an extra twenty pounds until I STOP breastfeeding and then it'll vanish. I guess I need the extra weight to feed my enormous baby.

The other great thing about your place is that I can plunk Angus in his Moby Wrap while I wander around and pretend to do laundry. Our apartment is too small for that. I can reach into our fridge from the bathroom in our place, so there is really no point in baby-wearing.

I hope you're having a great trip!

love Barclay

So we're finally at Kara's house. We were SUPPOSED to be here since monday, housesitting. In other words, eating all her food, snooping through her stuff, dirtying her sheets, and running through the house naked.

But what with the whole getting my tooth pulled and everything, I've just wanted to stay at home. I didn't realize that there would actually be some recovery involved in the whole tooth-pulling thing. Also, Angus is going through this thing where he screams every time he leaves the house, and I wasn't ready to deal with that the last two days. I was bitchy enough.

HI KARA! Don't worry, Aaron came by yesterday and fed Sophie's fish, and checked on the hamster. They're still alive.
And we're here now. We have already located all the popsicles and all the booze. We ate your burgers and feta cheese. WE ARE DOING GREAT!

Gotta go, Aaron's lighting the empty vodka bottle on fire and Angus is letting it be known that he's had enough of being neglected.

Here is Angus lifting up his head. He had it up even farther, but by the time I'd located the camera and fumbled around turning it on, he had face-planted with exhaustion from the effort of holding up his giant noggin.

And here is father and son.

Grocery shopping excursion this morning = FAIL.

I knew it.
I give up on trying to time it perfectly to his good moods. From now on, WE ARE GOING OUT AND HE IS GOING TO LIKE IT.
Or scream the whole time, I really don't care anymore. Go ahead and attract the stares of strangers. Go ahead, scream like your being brutally tortured, get child protection services called on me because surely I must be such an unfit mother to just let you scream like that all the time.
I. DON'T. CARE.

Angus, you'd better get used to being out in the world because it's not going away!

I'm feeling much better today.

I admit, yesterday I was being kind of childish. There were a LOT of tears yesterday. I had to grieve for my lost tooth. Also, I realize I was actually quite traumatized by my experience at the dentist. I think I have a serious dentist phobia, which probably stems from not seeing a dentist in about seventeen year and therefore not being used to having people's fingers and sharp weapons in my mouth.

I also have this incredible gag reflex, which was kind of problematic for the dentist. She had to keep stopping what she was doing, because I would panic at not being able to close my mouth and swallow. I felt like I was going to choke and die.

I panicked at the needle going into my cheek. I panicked at the needle going into my GUMS, near my infected tooth. THEN I panicked because I could still feel my sore tooth, even though I was supposed to be frozen. Then I panicked some more as I heard a loud snap, and through my tears I asked if my tooth was out. No, she said, she was just numbing even more.

After that there was a lot of tears and drooling and silent screaming. I remember clutching the arm rests, and at one point my foot climbed up the chair as I tried to escape.

There was some bone-crunching, and some yanking, but no pain. I feel quite silly actually for having such a fit. BUT IT WAS SCARY FOR ME.

I'm sure they all laughed at me after I left. The one who gave birth to a ten-pound baby without any pain relief, can't even handle a totally pain-free tooth extraction!

So, when I got home, I cried and cried and cried for my lost tooth. Angus was having a shitty day too, probably because I was having a shitty day. It was hard to deal with him when all I wanted to do was cry into my pillow and then sleep forever. I cried because I really wanted to just have a day off so I could recover, but there ARE no days off when you're a mother. I think I better make peace with that soon, so that life is easier for me.
There was a lot of self-pity going on yesterday.

It's amazing how different things can be in the morning. I feel refreshed and peaceful this morning. I have some really good painkillers so I'm not feeling any pain. (WEEEEEEE!!!)

I'm waiting for my boss to wake up and dictate what we are doing for the day. I would LIKE to go grocery shopping. Aaron and I just got paid, and so FINALLY we can stock the cupboards, rather than scrounging around for twenty bucks here and there so we can eat for the day.
I'm HOPING Angus doesn't throw a fit. Inevitably when we go grocery shopping, he gets in touch with the devil to conspire about how to make the experience absolute HELL for his mom and dad.

I try and time it so he's fed before we go. But for some reason, he ends up wanting to nurse, right when I'm in the aisles deliberating on which flavor of ichiban to get.

I try and time it for when he's tired, with the THEORY being that he'll fall asleep in the car, and then he'll stay sleeping in his Moby Wrap as we shop. But that always fails and he ends up NOT sleeping and then I have to pace around with him outside because he's screaming so loud, while Aaron finishes the shopping.

I try and time it for when he's well-rested, so then he'll be alert and happy to be facing outwards in his Moby Wrap, so he can see what's going on. But THAT always fails, and he ends up actually being sleepy and then unable to fall asleep because it's bright and there's so much going on in the grocery store that he can't switch himself off.

I CAN'T WIN!

Also, lately every time I even leave the house with him, he pitches a huge fit. I always seem to get it wrong. I put so much effort into trying to time it for when he's in a good mood, and it ALWAYS backfires! Now he won't even nurse unless he's lying in bed with me, and he will NOT go to sleep unless we are at home, and I've swaddled him, turned the hairdryer on full blast, and then paced the halls with his sixteen-pound ass in my arms.
God help us if he gets hungry and tired when we're out.

I sure hope he grows out of this stage soon, because I DO NOT want to spend all my time cooped up in this shoebox apartment!

Post partum

So, my newly pregnant neighbor said to me the other day as she was smoking a cigarette and riding my other neighbor's stationary bike, "Have you gotten postpartum yet?"

YET??

I admit, my jaw actually fell open. As if it were a requirement of childbirth. I couldn't believe how blase she was about it! I told her some women might not like to be asked that, and she apologized and said she didn't mean to be rude.

Now I actually kind of admire her when I think back on it. Being pregnant herself, she probably was just curious.

Also, I'm pretty sure the neighbors have been talking amongst themselves and whispering and wondering if I have post-partum, because they're always asking "HOW ARE YOU DOING TODAY??" All concerned-like...

I'm fine.

Or am I?

Sure there are intense mood swings, the despair, the ANGER, lord the anger I feel inside and I really don't know why I'm so angry... I feel like it's directed all at my kid, because he is just so goddamn miserable alllllll the time, and every day that passes that he screams and I wear myself out trying to placate him alllll day, I feel like I'm beaten down a little more than the previous day, and I wonder how I'll ever manage to get out of bed and do it another day.

But I tend to brush depression off as just needing an attitude adjustment. Like, quit feeling sorry for yourself and CHEER THE FUCK UP. I always feel it is in the person's control and it's all about perspective.

But maybe it's not that easy?

I haven't had the desire to come to come to the computer and rant lately, and it's all because of the tooth that ruined my life.
The pain of my abcessed tooth was making it hard to focus, and I definitely wasn't being a nice person.

But, now that it's gone, I find I'm mourning the loss of it. I didn't expect to be so upset about losing a tooth. It's just a TOOTH. But I am, for some reason. I mean, that tooth has been with me a long time. It's chewed a lot of doritos. I'm going to miss it.

Today I had to make the choice to have my tooth extracted. The preferred option would have been to have a root canal and then a crown, so that I could save my tooth, but at $1700, it's something that nobody can afford! And I have to have TWO of them. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about the other tooth, but for now, at least the infected one is out of my head. I'm already starting to think a little more clearly now that I'm not blinded by pain.

I'm feeling quite bitter about the whole thing. I could have saved that tooth if I'd had the money. It just doesn't seem fair to me that poor people have to suffer. We have medical coverage for poor people, WHY isn't dental part of that? It seems to me that with lack of proper dental care, your overall health DOES suffer. Shouldn't dental be defined as "health care?"

Angus, ten weeks old

Angus, this is you at ten weeks old. You are nearly sixteen pounds! Are you taking steroids? You have about twelve rolls on your arms, and eight rolls in your thighs, and every day I have to lift up your fat folds and clean them out, because if I don't, you smell like a butt. But you're so squishy and kissable, I wouldn't have you any other way.

Dear Angus,

I am SO proud of you!

Yesterday you had your 2-month shots and you took it like a man. First you charmed the pants off the nurse by smiling and flirting with her. You have that effect on women - they seem to fall in love with you instantly. Please keep it up.

When she poked you in the leg, your eyes got reeeeally HUGE with surprise, and then you cried. It was so heartbreaking to see that look on your face, and it made me cry. But you settled down right away because I was holding you, and then you let out a little sigh and softened in my arms and went right to sleep.

This was after the chat the nurse and I had. She asked me how things are going, and I told her that you are a very high-need baby. I told her how every day is a dance between making sure you're stimulated enough, and then knowing when you've had enough and need help to unwind. When the nurse saw how you relaxed with me right after you got poked, she commented on what a great bond you and I have. She said that it's obvious that you have a lot of trust in me. She told me she could tell that I always respond to your needs right away, which helps to cement that bond.

It felt really good to hear that I'm being a good mom to you, because I was really wondering if I was doing okay. What with all that screaming, I was SURE I was somehow permanently scarring you for life.

This morning you woke up WAY TOO EARLY. But there's no way I could be mad, because when I opened my eyes and looked at you, you beamed at me and waved your arms around with excitement. You were saying, "You're awake FINALLY, I've been waiting for you to wake up, let's plaaaaay!!!"

So, you told me all about your dreams, and I grumbled back at you, and then you jammed both your fists in your mouth and chewed and gurgled and cooed. I wanted to stay in bed at least four more hours, but your diaper smelled soooo bad, and was so water-logged, you were grossing me out and I didn't even want to be near you, so I had to get up and change you.

Then your dad got up and made me coffee. You guys are the best!

Love mom

My dentist visit.

I learned a few things about dentists yesterday.

1. I should have been a dentist. At nearly $2000 for a root canal, I think it would be safe to say they make OKAY money.

2. I DO NOT LIKE GOING TO THE DENTIST. I was scared for my life. Yes, I gave birth to a ten pound baby, but I would rather do that again than have sharp instruments in my mouth, scraping and poking and gouging. I also couldn't stop gagging, and I panicked every time water pooled in my mouth, and then panicked when the water-sucker almost sucked out my brain.
So I guess this means I'll never be a dentist.

3. I have "macroglossia" which means "abnormally large tongue," and "microdontia" which means "abnormally small teeth." Yes, I am a freak.

4. Dentistry has one of the highest suicide rates of any profession. (I already knew that before yesterday, but I figured I'd mention it.) I wonder why this is. Probably something to do with having your face inside people's decaying mouths. I'd want to kill myself probably.

I chose this particular dentist because of the name: "Gentle Dentistry." You'd go too, right? That's how they trick you.

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS GENTLE DENTISTRY.

This particular dentist was young and female, fit and blond and attractive, and I liked her quite a lot. I was expecting a gruff, crusty old man. I guess things have changed in the fifteen or twenty years I've been avoiding dentists.

Also, there was a poster of Johnny Depp on the ceiling. This was definitely not a man dentist.
Johnny grinned at me all Pirate-y the whole time I was undergoing my torture, but it was more creepy than calming. I think they should have put up a poster of bunnies and lambs and fluffy clouds and rainbows. I personally would have felt much more calm looking at that than looking at Johnny's eye-lined pirate face sneering down at me.

The hygeinist made a comment, a comment I have just been WAITING for someone to say, so I can talk about how ignorant people are to new mothers. She said, "You look great for just having a baby."
But instead of getting offended like I'd hoped, I actually was flattered. I DO look DAMN good for having a baby.

All I had done yesterday were some X-rays and my teeth were cleaned, but I thought I was going to pass out. I can't believe I actually have to go back there. And have things done that are going to be MUCH MUCH WORSE.

Unnnhh

I just got told my a lady at Shopper's that my baby doesn't need to sleep during the day. HUH? What planet are you from, lady? I considered waking Angus up JUST to show her what happens when my baby doesn't sleep. I'm pretty sure she would need therapy for many, many years.

I love how as soon as a woman becomes pregnant and has a child, people feel compelled to give her all of their hair-brained advice. What makes you think anyone wants to listen to you? Asshole.

Being a mother means you are under constant scrutiny! People are always looking. STOP LOOKING! And keep your retarded, outdated views on child-rearing to yourself.

People are uncomfortable with mothers breastfeeding in public, but then mother's who bottle-feed get in shit for NOT breastfeeding.

Then there is the disposable vs. cloth diaper war. Have you ever noticed that parents using disposables are never smug? But hooooo boy, get those 'better-than-thou' yuppies going about the virtues of cloth, and you'll need something seriously abrasive to wipe all that smug off their faces.

I'm feeling kind of brain-dead today. I'm finding it a huge effort to pay attention and string sentences together. So I'm going to go redirect my vacant stare and drooling from the computer screen to the T.V. screen. Much less effort involved.

I've been taking codeine for my toothache, and I think that combined with my A.D.D. is

I can't even finish that sentence. Durhhh. Need watch people in box now.

I'm going to get my teeth fixed today. I can't stop daydreaming about taking giant bites of freezing cold ice cream... USING MY TEETH! It's going to be awesome to be able to suck air in without screeching in pain.

I guess I'm not going to be able to eat broccoli ever again, until I stop breastfeeding. It's causing some unbelievable gas in Angus. (You'd think I'd have learned those last few times.) It might be funnier if Angus could actually sleep through his farts. Talk about a rude awakening. As it is, he is cranky as hell because he hasn't been able to sleep for more than ten minutes without a ripping fart jolting him awake.

Dear Angus,
this evening you starred in your own remake of The Exorcist. I seriously feared for my life. I had to lock you in my bedroom because I thought you were going to eat me.

I'm sure in years from now, we will look back on this and laugh at all the times your dad and I had to shout at each other over the howl of the hairdryer, because that's the only thing that would shut you up. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm going to develop a phobia of hairdryers after this is all over.

I'm sure you are going to grow into a delightful little baby, and a feisty, lively, lovable child, and it will be easy to forget this whole nightmare.
It's the only thing keeping me going, thinking of the wonderful person you are going to grow up to be. Your personality is too big for your little body. You're sensitive, and when you get overstimulated you find it really hard to switch off, so your dad and I spend all of our waking hours (and some asleep hours) trying to pacify you.

I think when you grow a little bigger, you will be able to play and interact with us more, so I think you'll be a lot happier. You just have to be patient, little one! I know the world is new and exciting and you just can't handle it all sometimes. I have a confession - I still can't handle it sometimes. Your father and I are both sensitive people too, so we can relate. You're just going to have to find a way to deal with it.
You've recently discovered your fists - maybe you could try and remember those fists when you're feeling stressed. Just shove them in your mouth and see how much better you feel. That's why adult's smoke. But DON'T YOU DARE SMOKE!

I think you're going to be a lot like your dad. Sociable, hyperactive, lively, but also gentle and a little sensitive. (He's going to kill me for saying that.) Well those are all the things that make me love your dad, so I'll be overjoyed if that's how you turn out. (Of course, I'll love you just the same if you're placid and calm like your mother. I'll even love you if you're mute, or gay.)

Tonight you're going to have no choice but to drink formula because tonight you put me in such a state that I needed to have a beer. And you're now asleep but I'm still all jangly and still kind of hyperventilating so I intend to drink a second beer. I wouldn't want you to get second-hand drunk, so you must understand that it's in your best interest to have a bottle.
However, this might backfire, as you are stubborn and refuse anything in your mouth that is not my nipple. In fact, you even have a preference as to which nipple. I would say you are a typical Taurus - you prefer the finer things in life.

When you fell asleep after your episode, you fell asleep looking so sad, it made my heart break. I really feel like I'm failing you somehow. I feel like as your mother, I should know exactly how to make everything okay for you, and I don't. But I keep hope that as we continue to get to know each other, I will be the one to kiss your owies all better.

I love you Angus. And regardless of what we go through every day, I still look forward to waking up with you.

Love mom

Listen in!

Aaron and I have this ongoing feud about the volume of the television. He is deaf from all the rocking out he does, and all the blasting of the Black Crowes in his truck he did, and I am super-sensitive to noise, which is why it seems so unfair that I have such a LOUD, ANGRY baby. My nerves really can't handle it. I need peace and quiet. My child is not peaceful or quiet.

Have you seen that ad on the T.V. listings for a device that improves your hearing, where a couple are in bed watching T.V., and the woman looks really annoyed, and snaps at her husband, "Would you turn that thing down?" and then the husband looks all annoyed for having to turn the T.V. down. Well that's us, about fifty times a day.

Aaron turns it up because he's deaf, and then I ask him to turn it down. Then when I'm facing away from him he turns it up again. Then I walk past the T.V. and turn it down. Then when I leave the room he turns it up again. Then I come back into the room and ask him to turn it down again. Then when I'm in the bathroom, he sneaks the volume back up a few notches. This just goes on and on and on, endlessly.

I AM GOING TO GET AARON THAT "LISTEN-IN" THING THAT THEY ARE SELLING ON T.V.!!


http://www.listenin.ca/

I love how they encourage blatant eavesdropping on other people's conversations.

Paaaaain.

In a pissy mood because there is an empty ibuprofen bottle in the cupboard. I need ibuprofen. There is an ibuprofen bottle in the cupboard, that has NO IBUPROFEN in it! That's like putting the empty milk carton back in the fridge.
Now, I'm not pointing any fingers, because it was probably me who emptied the ibuprofen container anyway, because I've been popping them like candy the last few days for my various physical pain.

There IS however, a bottle of acetaminophen, with codeine in it, which would do wonders for my tooth pain, knee pain, and quite possibly, my ass pain. I'm not sure if breastfeeding mothers should take codeine. It says on the bottle to consult a physician, which means that it might be okay, because if it weren't okay, it would say 'pregnant or nursing women SHOULD NOT take this drug.'

RIGHT?!

It would be great if I could just phone up my doctor at home and be like, "Hey Brian, what's up. I need your advice..."
But people don't do that. And I'm not going to make an appointment, then wait a week until the appointment, just to ask if it's okay to take tylenol with codeine in it. Plus, hopefully by then my teeth will be fixed. (Thank you Tanya.)

Oh, Nelson!

This is the stunning little mountain town which I am moving away from. You can't really tell how hilly it is, but let me tell you, there are a LOT of bloody hills here, which explains why everyone who lives here has a tight bum. Anywhere you go involves going up a hill. There is even a suburb called "Uphill." I kid you not.

I had to include the Holy Smoke culture shop, because it is such an icon here. Unfortunately, it just closed down. The guys running it went to jail, for apparently selling drugs or something.

Angus just smiled at me so hugely that his eyes disappeared. Can I take back everything mean I said about him? Psycho baby? Not this one!!

We sure lucked out in the baby lottery.

HO. LY. FUCK.

Why does my baby hate me?

I seriously sometimes feel like I'm being punished sometimes, for something horrific I did in a past life. Why else would I be so lucky to have this miserable child. I swear, now when he's screaming and NOTHING I'M DOING IS WORKING, I just stand there and stare at my son and I think "Really? You're MY child?"

I have to make light of it, otherwise it would consume me and I'd end up a very depressed mother, which Angus does not need.

Sometimes I think he has colic, sometimes I think he's just got such a big personality that he needs to grow into it.
My doctor kind of just said "Yeah it's hard isn't it? Would you like to see a counselor?"

"YEAH IT'S FUCKING HARD, YOU MORON!! AND NO I DO NOT WANT TO SEE A COUNSELOR, I WOULD LIKE SOME REALLY EFFECTIVE PHARMACEUTICALS THAT WILL RENDER ME COMATOSE UNTIL MY CHILD IS THIRTY!"

Sorry for yelling.

I never used to be an angry person. But since having a child, I now surprise myself with how angry I feel most days. Nowadays when Angus is screaming, I can't even deal with it anymore, because I know nothing I'm doing is working anyway, so why would I bother? He has to sit in his swing or in his bouncer chair locked in my bedroom while I have an emotional break down in the living room because I'm worried that if I am with him I will handle him too roughly, or yell, which really would not be helping him.

I was just now sitting outside while Angus was inside, swaddled tightly so he couldn't break free and murder me, and he was falling asleep to the scream of the blowdryer, when my gorgeous neighbor from upstairs glided past me in a slinky, skin tight dress with a slit in it up to her crotch.

She said, "Hi, how are you," in the sweetest, drippiest voice, and looked at me with such pity or maybe disgust because she could hear my child screaming and the blowdryer going, and I was sitting outside trying to ignore it, and looking really angry and really disheveled. Did I mention I was also drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette?
(Please piss off with your comments about me drinking and smoking, because I don't do it frequently, but today my demon child drove me to it. Also, I heard alcohol in breast milk has a sedating effect on the baby, which is what I was hoping for.)

I can only imagine what she was thinking.

So I glared at her and said, "You ho."


I'm such an angry, unpleasant person these days, I really hate it. Every little thing seems to set me off. Rather than feel sad about it, it's just making me ANGRY!!!
My tooth hurts, and it causes me to stomp around the house and throw things, because it's just so unfair that I have such an angry baby who hates me, and on top of that my TOOTH hurts! Did I mention my TOOTH hurts?

I would like to wrap up this post by saying that I do actuaaly love my baby, very much. There are always sweet moments during the day, like in the morning when he's all curled up into me, and he wakes up and grunts and then grins at me, as if he can't believe how lucky he is to wake up to ME every morning.
These moments keep me from hurling myself off BOB. (big orange bridge for those of you who don't know.)
Every day I go reeling back and forth from utter despair to flaming mad to unimaginable glee, over and over again. It's incredibly exhausting.

I'm a total basket case by the end of the day. Thankfully I have A.D.D. and a terrible memory so in my deluded state of mind I'm thinking, "oh that wasn't so bad, can't wait to do it again tomorrow!"

Thunder thighs

Seriously, look at the size of those thighs.

I love my Moby.

I made an amazing discovery today. Angus likes to be FACING OUTWARDS. I guess he's sick of looking at my face.

This is a major breakthrough in keeping Angus happy.

They suggest not putting your child in facing outwards until they are 4-5 months old and can reliably hold their head up. But I figure since my two-month-old emerged from the womb already holding his head up, and is already the size of a four or five month old, it's probably okay.

I'm giving new meaning to the term "Verbal Diarhhea." I've started talking and now I can't shut up.

Whilst I was doing the dishes (yes, I actually did them! Mmmm, that pomegranate dish soap.... soooo delicious I could eat it) Angus let forth a heartbreaking cry from where he was sleeping in his swing. It set off the "My baby is being eaten by a dingo!" alarm bells in my head, and I ran over to him, my heart pounding in my throat. He was asleep. He was still sleeping! What the hell?!

Angus, please stop having these schizophrenic outbursts. You are giving your mother high blood pressure.


I can't stop daydreaming about our Big Move To The Atlantic. Those of you who don't know, we are shipping off to Nova Scotia in September, to start a new life for ourselves. We will be amongst family, and Aaron will hopefully have better oppurtunities to find better-paying work.

Nelson is a beautiful, mountainous hippie town, but it's also a black hole for us. And for a lot of people. It is impossible to get ahead here. Which is probably why there are so many transient hippies, because they're quite happy to NOT get ahead.
There are no jobs here, especially for Aaron, who is a pipe-fitter. Also, neither of us has family here, which has been quite difficult for us lately with a new baby. We do not have the luxury of haveing relatives we can pawn the baby off on when we want to go out and get shit-faced and be irresponsible.

I have been swinging back and forth between extreme excitement about starting a new life in a new place, and crippling anxiety about all the work involved in packing all our shit up, and then travelling with a perpetually pissed-off baby. I fear I'm going to be that "woman-on-the-plane-with-the-screaming-baby-who-everybody-wants-to-stab-with-their-nail-clippers-that-luckily-are-packed-with-their-checked-luggage-and-not-with-their-carry-on-luggage."

Also stressing because I HAVE to visit MY family, who are all on the West Coast, before we go, otherwise they will all disown me for whisking their grandchild across the country. That means driving the eight hundred kilometres to Vancouver with a perpetually pissed-off baby, then hopping from island to stupid island with a perpetually pissed-off baby, then selling the car in Vancouver, then getting on a plane and flying from one end of the country to the other with our perpetually pissed-off baby.

Dear Mom: Why the hell do you have to live on an Island that involves first taking one big ferry ride, then driving up the Island, then taking another ferry to another island, then driving across the island, then taking ANOTHER ferry to get to YOUR island??
I miss you SO MUCH and I'm sad we're going to be so far away from each other, but at least I know you will visit me, because you always do, no matter where I go. You even visited me in Australia, even though you ended up hating it and ditching me for New Zealand instead. It's okay, I should have gone there too. (I didn't like Australia either, come to think of it. Much too boisterous and sunny and loud.) Also, you know we will come visit you too.

Dear Dad: WHY DO YOU HAVE TO LIVE ON AN ISLAND TOO? A whole different island than my mom, so that means taking all those goddamn ferries and hopping from island to island, and then back, and then driving DOWN the MAIN island and taking another ferry to get to YOUR island? Well maybe you have your boat working, so at least we can have a hair-rasing boat ride instead of a boring old ferry.
I'm so sorry I'm taking your grandson so far away from you... and I know it's harder for you because you can't travel so easily. I PROMISE to come visit. To be fair though, we haven't even been able to make the trip yet since last march because of financial reasons and that whole being pregnant and having a baby thing. I think it might actually be easier to hop on a plane from Halifax and flying right to Nanaimo, rather than driving through three sketchy mountain passes from Nelson and taking all those goddamn ferries to all those goddamn islands.

Dear Tanya and Chris, my out-laws: Thank you for bailing us out again and again. We are trying to do better, I promise! Thank you for all the hard work you're doing to make us a nice place to live. Thank you for all the future times I intend to stick you with the baby so Aaron and I can go out and get shit-faced and be irresponsible. Just kidding. But it sure will be nice to have Angus's loving and doting grandparents around to give me a break from him. I mean, to spend time with him. Who am I kidding. I can't WAIT to pawn him off on you!

Dear Anneke and Mel and Natalie and Heather and Chas and whoever else that is such a wonderful friend to me that I'm forgetting because I'm selfish and forgetful: thank you for being my sisters, for thinking my baby is charming even though he's often an asshole, and for offering to baby-sit simply because you love him so much. Words aren't enough to express how much I love you ladies, and I'm gonna miss you SO. DAMN. MUCH.

I'm also going to really miss all your children.

(Natalie, I'm going to miss your Touli too, but I will not miss your snakes.)

I know I'm forgetting someone. Please give me shit if you're the one I missed.

Just a thought..

How embarrassing do you think it would be to buy condoms and Preparation H at the same time?

Birth chart

Oh my god. I just did Angus's birth chart on the internet, and learned that he is a Taurus, with a Cancer rising, with a Sagittarius moon. I'M SO IN FOR IT.

This is what it says.

"The moon in Sagittarius gives an uninhibited, freedom-loving personality
which may incline to the restless. You are very idealistic, and see the
best side of everyone. You are happy and fun to be around. You are also
apt to be impatient. You tend to react to situations with action rather
than with reflection. You can also be unrealistic in your approach to
situations. You should learn to temper your idealism with reality in
setting out to achieve your high aspirations.

The Moon in the Fifth House represents an emotional sensitivity in the
area of interacting with other people. You feel a need to express your
emotions in an expressive or dramatic way. "

No shit. Angus, now I understand why you are impatient and feel the need to express your emotions in an expressive or dramatic way.

The website that did this reading for me, cut the reading off MID-SENTENCE! They then suggested I pay for the full reading. Ha ha. What a piss-off though.

Gripe and moan.

This is the Moby Wrap. I love it. Angus sometimes loves it. I have two slings, two different kinds of Snugli's, and this thing, and I use them all, because Angus screams any time he's in one of them, so I'm always trying a different one, in the stupid hope that he won't scream at me.



This is Angus in his Moby before we left yesterday. You can tell by the look on his face, that he was one big fat grump all day.










Last night Aaron kept elbowing and smacking Angus in his sleep. Every time his arm would fling out and hit the baby, I threw it back at him and told him to stop it.
And then HE got mad at ME!!! Well I guess he was unaware that he was accidentally hitting Angus (who didn't even notice anyway) and he thought I was just being a bitch, so he went and slept on the couch.

Yesterday I got overwhelmed with the shittiness of everything. I let it get to me, which I'm trying not to do. I've found that when I write about things, it helps me to see the humor in things, which makes things much easier to deal with. I tried to write yesterday but it just ended up sounding like one big-ass complaint, which nobody wants to hear.

Yesterday was one of those days where everything I anticipated turned out to be WRONG! It was one of those days where I really felt what a demanding and consuming and thankless job it is to be a mother.
I thought Angus needed to get out of the house, so I intended to take him downtown, also so I could get to H&R block, which I have been trying to do for three days. I think Angus gets bored of looking around the same old shitty, messy apartment, so I try and take him out to give him new things to look at. Turns out what he really needed was to be wrapped in a straightjacket and left in a dark room by himself all day.

What a miserable child! Angus, why do you have to be so Goddamned MAD all the time?! I'm TRYING to make you happy! Just when I think I've figured out what you like, you throw a curveball right at my face and you yell at me that that's NOT what you like, and what a stupid woman I am for not knowing what you like! Give me a break, PLEEEEEASE!

The other day when we went downtown we took the stroller, AND, being the smart woman I am, I also brought the Moby Wrap, just in case he wigged out. Well he did of course, and good thing I brought that. So I ended up with my baby in his Moby Wrap and pushing around the stupid empty stroller all day.

So naturally, yesterday I figured, to hell with the stroller, I'll just put Angus in his Moby Wrap and we'll take the bus down! Well fuck me! He screeeeeeeamed his face off all day and passersby thought I was torturing my child. I figured out he was probably too hot being held so close to me, and also tired, and what he needed was to lie in his stroller with the cover on it to block out all the stimuli so he could have a nap. Too bad I didn't bring the stroller!

I ended up going to Mountain Baby (I LOVE YOU MOUNTAIN BABY!!!) and using their breast-feeding room. I stripped my hot little baby down to his diaper and turned the light off and he finally fell asleep. By then I was too stressed out to bother with H&R block, so I got back on the bus and went home, and threw a hissy fit and then had a nap with my little angel.

But all that just took SO MUCH out of me. And I'm supposed to bathe myself and clean the house and cook dinner?? Actually Aaron has taken on the role of "Cook" and I really can't thank him enough for that. The kitchen is such a disaster that instead of cleaning it, I avoid it at all costs. Luckily, Aaron doesn't mind. He just cleans the dishes he needs and cooks up a feast for his pissy wife! I love you Aaron.

When I woke up from my nap I was in a very sorry state of self-pity, and that's when I came to computer to complain to the internet, but then I deleted it because I didn't think anyone wanted to read my whingeing and whining, but now I'm going to do it anyway, because I NEED TO!

Okay, the physical ailments of post-birth. My ASS HURTS! I don't really need to explain that anymore than I already have.
My KNEES hurt. I thought I had arthritis, but my doctor told me it was from the ligaments softening from the pregnancy hormones. He suggested I go to physio. Um, and what will I do with my baby while I go to physio? And who will pay for my physio? Not happening, Mr. Rich Doctor Who Doesn't Have A Baby, Therefore Doesn't Know What It's Like. I don't care if you pulled my baby out of me and stitched me back together afterward, YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE! YOU ARE A MAN!
Then he suggested I ride a stationary bike. Well that's just ridiculous. Where am I supposed to find one of those? (Actually my neighbor has one.) But where would I put my baby? I suppose I could strap him to me while I pedal to nowhere. Something about riding a stationary bike and not going anywhere seems incredibly boring.

My TOOTH hurts. During pregnancy, my greedy little fetus robbed me of all the precious vitamins and minerals that hold my body together, and my teeth fell apart. During my 30th week of pregnancy, I was eating a piece of pizza and a piece of my tooth came off in the cheese. So now I have this big gaping hole that is probably an infected absess now, not to mention all my painful cavities that I have accumulated since not visiting a dentist since I was probably about ten years old. So every time I eat ANYTHING, I am in pain.
In Canada, we are lucky to have free health care, but dentist visits are not part of that, which doesn't make any sense to me. I guess I have to wait until my infected tooth causes me to get really sick, and then I can go to the hospital and get treated for free.

On top of it all, I felt really bloated and greasy, probably due to the microwaved hot dogs I ate, and the fact that I hadn't showered for three days. On top of that, I tried to clean up this nuclear war-zone that is otherwise known as our shoebox apartment, but I just got way too overwhelmed by it all. I managed to put the laundry away, which took me an hour, and then I knew that I am NEVER going to get this place clean. The mess is bigger than me. What is wrong with me? I go to people's houses who have children, and it's always clean! Why can't I do it?

Oh, woe is me!

Thanks for listening to me complain. Later, I'm going to attempt to go to H&R block (AGAIN) to demand to know why I received a letter instead of money. This is the fourth day of trying to do this!

The batteries are dying in Angus's swing, which I can't believe! I JUST put batteries in it three days ago! Now the songs sound like they're possessed and sending me subliminal messages, it's rather creepy. They probably actually are possessed. By my demon child.

Angus, please be happy today after you wake up from your nap. I don't think I can handle you being so mad at me and causing a scene downtown making everyone think I am an unfit mother. You make me want to hole up inside the house all the time, which is really not healthy. For you, or for me. So CHEER UP little one!

I love my little family

I'm starting to understand why people continue to have more children. I am absolutely smitten with my baby. I just love every squishy little bit of him, all the faces he makes, even his cries.
I have to admit all the weeks leading up to pretty much only last week, have been really difficult. I'm even willing to admit that for a while I hated my baby more often than I loved him. He just cried ALL. THE. TIME. A lot of the time I wondered that the hell I had done with my life. I mourned the loss of my freedom and personality. Most mornings I would wake up and dread the day ahead, and think, "I can't do this again."

I'm not sure how this happened but suddenly Angus and I just 'clicked.' I am beginning to see his BIG personality emerge, and it helps to put myself in his shoes and imagine what it's like for him. It helps me have empathy when he's screaming.

This morning Aaron got up early, went downtown, and brought back coffee and muffins while I was still in bed. Normally I would have been PISSED that he had woken me up, but he was forgiven for waking me up with the beautiful aroma of coffee... and I didn't have to get up and MAKE coffee, which was even better. What a guy! Every woman deserves a man who treats them as good as Aaron treats me.

I'm having a hard time concentrating over the howl of the blowdryer, but it's the only thing keeping Angus happy right now. The blowdryer is truly a wondrous device! I use it sometimes on Angus's bum when he has a rash. (Thank you Chelsea, for that tip.) It dries the bum, calms the baby, and makes my hair look like an afro. Amazing.

I'm sitting with an ice cube in my pants. I never thought I would tell the world that, but then again, I never thought I'd be the type of person to get a hermhemohriohd.
But YOU push a ten-pound baby out of your vagina without pooping on the doctor and turning yourself inside out and popping every blood vessel in your body... So don't judge me until you've done it.

There are a lot of things about pregnancy and chilbirth that I wish I had been warned about. It's as if women who have done it have to keep these things a delicious little secret to themselves because it gives them pleasure to watch their comrades go through the shock and horror of it all without any fair warning. I know I'M kind of enjoying it, because I'm so thankful it's over for me and now I'm on the other side and it's MY TURN to watch innocent women, ripe with life and all glowing and dreamy-looking, dreaming about their angelic little babies who will be all rainbows and sunshine and snuggles and smiles, and laugh maniacally to myself because I know IT'S NOT LIKE THAT AT ALL.

I forgot that I wasn't supposed to drink coffee anymore. Damn you Aaron, I'm not supposed to drink coffee, why did you go and ruin it by bringing me coffee in bed? Shit. Angus is irritable and it's all your fault.

Ladies of PC

Apparently, shamelessly promoting your blog on another website is considered spam.

I was going to tell said website where to go and how to get there and where they should put it, but there are some really lovely pregnant ladies and new mommies on there, so I don't want to burn that bridge.
I even made a few good lady friends from there. HI ASHLEY, HI CASEY, HI LEXY!!! I wish you girls all lived nearby so we could hang out together with our babies.

Angus wakes up in a bad mood

More Angus

Okay so from left to right.
Here is Angus with the new love his life, his auntie Natasha
In the next one, here is my chunky little peanut looking cute as a button in the sized 6-month-old overalls that fit him now, from his grandparents
The last one features Angus's multiple chins.

A whole lot about bum's.

DEAR ANGUS, WHY THE FUCK WON'T YOU GO TO SLEEP???

I have a hemhehroid (I know that's not how you spell it, but I know there a lot of H's in weird places.) left over from giving birth, and today it really hurts, probably from all the walking I did. Or from all the sitting on my ass in front of the computer I did. I'm sorry, that's probably too much information. But I know some of you reading this are still pregnant, and have yet to experience the horror that is childbirth. Someone needs to give you the heads up. Don't let anyone fool you, it's not 'thrilling' or 'orgasmic' or even 'wonderful.' It's horrendous, and I swear to God I will never do it again. Maybe one day I will share the details. But I'm still getting over it.

Anyway, I'm being kept awake by my child who will not sleep, and by my butt. Normally Angus and I are passed out cold by now, snuggling and sleeping side by side. NOT TONIGHT! I don't know what got into him, but he is resisting sleep all day, even though he's cranky and worn out and exhausted and needs to go to sleep. I think it's because he is just starting to enjoy his world. Everything is so new and exciting and he can't get enough. You'd think as a baby, you could just drop off to sleep when you're tired. NOPE. There's a lot of jiggling and bouncing and pacing involved, and swaddling and sucking, and then swearing and screaming by the mother (in her head of course, or into a pillow).

I have a few shout-outs to make, because I can't think of anything to write because I'm bone tired and my butt hurts.

To Bonnie: thankyou for planting the seed in my head to start a blog. I didn't realize how easy it was! It's been really therapeutic for me. It helps me to remember to see the humor in life, because I hadn't been for a while, and I was becoming kind of crabby and cynical all the time. Things are looking a lot brighter and funnier now.

To Natasha: thank you so much for making us burgers and letting us use your washer and dryer. If we had put off doing laundry for any longer, we would have had to use the bed sheets as toga's. I'm glad you finally got to see Angus being happy. I think every single time you'd seen him before, he was screaming! I didn't want you to get the wrong impression. Now I think you're the love of his life.

To Blowdryer: thank you for putting my son to sleep. Not only do you dry my hair quickly but you have this amazing ability to shut my kid up. You're truly amazing.

To Mountain Baby: thank you for being a store with amazing baby stuff that I can browse through and never buy because I can't afford it, but more importantly, thank you for having a breast feeding room, and putting the word out there to the breast-feeding mom's in Nelson that they are welcome to come in and use the room. And we don't even have to buy anything! I think that is the coolest thing ever. Especially because the staff bring the breast-feeding mom's cold water. So sweet.

To Lady Who Works At The Post Office: thank you for holding my baby while I was licking stamps and addressing envelopes. I almost left him with you, you did such a good job of serving customers and holding my baby at the same time.

This town is full of nice people!

Oh, and just in case anyone was wondering, the internet lied. It DID rain. I should have known.

Oh and one more thing... Angus's butt rash finally cleared up, and you know what did it? The Wal-Mart brand diaper rash cream. Parent's Choice. Desitin didn't work, the $40 prescription cream didn't work, and all the myriad other creams, gels and ointments I tried didn't work, but the cheap-o stuff works, go figure. (By the way mom, I still use the butt spackle, because it smells like salad dressing and I like the smell.)

Holy shit I'm tired.

Fruity dish soap

Dear Aaron, thank you for tolerating my mood swings and for still thinking I'm hot.

Dear Angus, thank you for sleeping for so long, and for laughing in your sleep again, I LOVE IT when you do that! But please stop sticking your feet in your poop when I change you.

Dear Internet, thank you for listening to me.

Dear Self, please rinse out your cereal bowls because it's impossible to clean dried, crusted-on Special K.

p.s. What IS the difference between Rice Krispies and Special K?


So I did the three-day-old dishes. Only because I bought new dish soap that smells like pomegranate and I wanted to try it out. This is how you get me to do dishes - entice me with exotic scents.

I'm waiting for Angus to wake up so I can dress him in a cute outfit and stroller downtown so we can cause a scene at H&R Block. Looks like a repeat of yesterday waiting to happen! If he's not awake by three, I'm going to have to wake him up, and face the wrath of He Who Dominates My Life.
I might just turn off his swing and see what happens.

The internet told me it's not supposed to rain in Nelson today, and I really hope it doesn't because I don't have a cover for the stroller and I would get the award for "Most Neglectful Mother" if people witnessed me pushing my baby around letting him get rained on.
There is a really ominous rain cloud over there, but also some blue sky and sun over THERE, so it's a toss-up. Sometimes the internet tells lies. And so do weather forecasters.

BOOB

Mom I know you don't like my swearing, but I have to swear today. It makes me feel better.

Having a baby means leaving the house with one eyelined and mascara-ed eye, and inside out underwear.

Today Satan got in his truck, drove out of hell, conspired with the Canadian Government in how to ruin my life, then ran me over repeatedly with his burning truck.

It started with a bad mood because I couldn't find one single shirt that wasn't crusty with milk. Now when I breast feed I sit with both boobs flopped out and a rolled up towel underneath them to absorb all the excess milk from my over-eager breasts. It doesn't help that Angus will often stop eating and look up at me lovingly, and while he does that, milk sprays in his face and all over the place. I need a trough to put beneath my breasts.

I apologize for repeatedly talking about my boobs.

Last night I had a teensy tiny puff off a hash cigarette (KNOWINGLY!!). If you know me you know that I NEVER smoke weed or anything associated with weed, which makes me the only person in this town who does not partake in the weed-smoking. I don't know what got into me. Angus was in bed and I was feeling rebellious I guess.
Anyway, I couldn't stop saying the word "boob." It was hilarious to me what a weird word the word "boob" is. Boob spelled backwards spells boob! Then I started rambling about how funny it would be if our crotches were where are faces are and our faces were where are crotches are. We'd have to unzip our pants to talk to each other!
Clearly, becoming a parent does not mean that you grow up.

This morning I think I drank too much coffee because I'm having a hard time typing, and Angus had a hard time taking a nap and staying asleep. I had finally got him to sleep and as he was swinging away, I guess his hand flew up and smacked him in the face and woke him up. What a horrible way to wake up! So I had to swaddle the shit out of him and start all over again.
I would like to try de-caf coffee, to see if it makes Angus less irritable. There's no way I can give up drinking coffee, I love it waaaaaay too much.

All morning I was excitedly awaiting the arrival of the mail man, because today he was supposed to bring me MONEY! It's GST day! We're saved!!!
When I did my taxes, the lady who did them for me at H&R block told me that I would recieve all the GST from the last three years (the years that I skipped the country and didn't do my taxes or pay my student loans), so I have eagerly been awaiting this bonus money.

Well instead of getting a cheque, I recieved a letter that said this:

"We are unable to determine the amount of the GST/HST credit to which you may be entitled because we do not have all the necessary information. If you supply us all the following information, we will process it and inform you of the result:
-your world income, with the amount converted to Canadian dollars, for the period in 2008 before you entered Canada."

WHAT. THE. FUCK. Thankyou, Canadian government. I guess for dinner we will be having weiner-water soup.

The reason I went to H&R block was because I do not understand paperwork at all, so I was happy to PAY SOMEONE to do it all FOR ME. I expect they should have known this!

I'm also having a stand-off with the housework today. I am saying, "Fuck you dishes, do yourself." I am getting really angry at the mess, which is really stupid, because I understand that I made the mess, and it is my job to clean it up, but I'm still mad at it. I feel like I am trying to make a point, but I'm not sure what the point is, because all I'm doing is making myself frustrated.

I'm just so frustrated. I know Aaron and I haven't always been so good with money, but WE ARE REALLY TRYING!!! Honestly! You have never met such a stingy shopper as me. (I'm born year of the rat, so it makes sense.) We always pay our rent and our bills and Angus's butt is always diapered. Our one vice is whenever one of us gets paid, we order food or go out for food, as a treat to ourselves. But really, what's wrong with that?
Every time we think we're making progress, we get knocked down again. Lately we have been tricked and fucked around by the following:

Canadian government
H&R block
Instaloans
Bank of Montreal
Royal Bank
Our dumb-ass landlord

I'm not going to bother with details, but they should know that if I had my own Mafia, there would be a price on their heads. (I'm not serious, please don't report me.)

Cold spaghetti

I just had to add one more post for today. I don't really have anything to say, but Angus is STILL SLEEPING. Did you hear me? He has been sleeping for three hours straight which means I have been sitting here for three hours straight figuring out my new blog and not doing dishes and not sorting out laundry.
And since he is STILL SLEEPING, I am going to continue to neglect my chores and gleefully nerd out on the internet, talking shit to nobody in particular.

I might actually have to wake Angus up, because in about half an hour we have to pick up Aaron, and if I try and plunk Angus in his car seat without feeding him, he will surely scream loud enough for the neighbors to call 911 because someone is torturing their baby. So that means I DO have to wake Angus up AGAIN, and I better do it soon, so that I can feed him so the poor starving child does not die of neglect and starvation on the drive to pick up dad.
FUCK!! This day has a theme to it, and it's called "Piss off the baby all day long."

Next time I need to do something, I won't worry about the car, we'll just take the bus. But buses are on a schedule, their own schedule, NOT ANGUS'S schedule, which could be problematic.

Yesterday was the day before I got paid, and we had nooooo food in the house. (Well we had this delicious spaghetti sauce that dad made in the fridge.) The power went off yesterday, and I really was worried that we wold all starve.

Aaron was fine with eating cold spaghetti sauce, but I thought that was gross so I took the last two slices of bread and scraped the sides of the peanut butter jar and made a peanut butter sandwich, and Aaron wanted a bite, so being the loving, generous wife that I am, I let him have a bite. But he took a HUGE bite, a bite that was half the sandwich!!! He thought it was funny, and then I got seriously mad because the power was out and not only did we have no food, but any food we might have had needed electricity to be cooked, and he took a bite of my sandwich that was half of my whole sandwich and we didn't know when the power would ever come back on and when we would get to eat again!
He apologized and said he forgot that the power went out, otherwise he wouldn't have eaten my last morsel of food. He was saved though, because in the next moment, the power came back on.

Well. That was totally pointless, wasn't it? Now I have to go piss off my baby by waking him up and forcing him to eat, which I already did today, AND IT DID NOT WORK, and here I am about to attempt to do it again.

Here are some pictures

My lovely friend Anneke made a comment about the top photo of Aaron with Angus... she said that it looks like he is waiting for a bus and instead of a brief case, he has a baby. Ha ha!! She funny.

And I FINALLY got a picture of Angus smiling. Yesssss!

Error

I can't figure out how to go back and edit previous posts because I am really that internet-illiterate. I just realized that in the previous post I wrote "toe heavens" which was supposed to be "towards the heavens."

I wonder what toe heaven is like.

Is this June-uary?

I was trying to be witty by calling it June-uary, because it's been pissing rain and hailing and howling winds and power-outaging for two days. But I just realized it's not even June anymore. Why didn't anybody tell me this? How is it that I didn't notice that it's a whole new month? It's summer?! I did NOT get the memo!

Oh right, I have a baby. That means that I am no longer part of society, and I no longer go to work, so I no longer need to know what day it is anymore.

While filling out the information for Angus's birth certificate, I remember pausing and looking upwards towards toe heavens for a sign... a sign that would tell me what year it is.
I used to have a really hard focusing (I've since learned that this is called Attention Deficit Disorder) and now I have an even WORSE time focusing. It's true, your brain turns to mush after you have had a baby, which is unfortunate for those of us who weren't completely all there to begin with.

I keep getting distracted by baby sounds. Damn you baby, can't you see I'm trying to neglect you and talk to the internet instead? He's violently swinging in his swing right next to me. It's how he likes it. He must be jerked around aggressively to be calmed down. Sometimes when he's really yelling atme I have to retaliate by turning on the blowdryer full blast and aiming it at his face. Just kidding, I don't really aim it at his face. But the blowdryer thing really works. A lot better than me screaming "SHUT UP!" I don't know why he listens to the blowdryer and not me.

So today we were going to deviate from the usual routine of sitting around on the couch ignoring the housework and watching quality programming such as "What Not To Wear" and "Bulging Brides," and "I didn't know I was pregnant." I sit with Angus and teach him that you can mix ANY color with ANY neutral! I also have to tell him that I am a better hairdresser than Nick Arrojo.

In order to do anything involving leaving the house, we have to drive dad to work, and then we get the car to joy-ride in all day! The only requirement is that we bring dad something really yummy for lunch.

It's really not as easy as it sounds. All morning I was trying to time it in my head how to make sure Angus was fed and slept ad not-cranky, but sufficiently sleepy enough to fall asleep in the car ride, for EXACTLY eleven o' clock, because I needed to go to Wal-Mart to buy athlete's foot cream for my babies persistant butt rash that not even forty dollar prescription butt cream could clear up.

Well he was still sleeping by ten-thiry and I was getting really antsy for him to wake up, because damnit baby, we have things to DO, things that revolve around ME for once, and you must fit MY schedule!! So, like a complete idiot, I woke him up. I woke him up! If you're a parent, you know to NEVER WAKE A SLEEPING BABY!

But I needed him to wake up and eat , so that I wasn't running around the mall with a screaming baby trying to find somewhere to breast feed. Then I made my second dumb-ass mistake of the morning. I tried to force him to eat. Well he kind of tried. I mean, if I put my nipple in his mouth, he will automatically eat, but he kept falling asleep so I kept tickling his feet to encourage him to eat.
After that I picked him up to put him in his car seat and he barfed right into my bra. I guess you can force someone to eat, but you probably shouldn't, because you end up with barf in your bra.

He then commenced his usual screaming bloody murder as I was putting him in his car seat, and continued screaming until I started the car, which works like a switch - instant sleep!
Until we got to Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart, YAY WAL-MART!! It's an exciting day when I get to go to Wal-Mart, this is just how exciting life is with a baby.
As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, the skies opened and dumped an ocean of rain right over Nelson, all at once. I even thought that a tree had fallen on the car, THAT'S how loud that one crack of thunder was!!

So I crawled over the seat into the back seat and stuffed Angus into the Snugli without waking him, and then ran like hell to the doors of Wal-Mart with a shitty red dollar-store umbrella that kept turning inside out and was doing nothing to prevent my precious baby's head from getting bonked by hail-balls. And then my day was ruined. The power was out. At Wal-Mart. Noooooo!!!

So we ran (or I ran, Angus slept, because I was running, and he was bobbing up and down violently getting pelted aggressively by rain, and he likes it rough) BACK to the car, and then we just sat in the backseat. I thought maybe the rain might let up. I enjoyed a few moments with Angus still in the Snugli, snoring against my chest, and I got to indulge myself and kiss his kissable head and nuzzle my chin against his baby-soft hair, since he never lets me do that when he's awake.

Then I realized the clock was ticking and we had to get dad some lunch, so I wrestled Angus out of the Snugli and back into his car seat, but I woke him up and he screamed bloody murder at me again, but then fell back asleep once the car was moving.

As I drove past Wal-Mart, I noticed the lights were on. The power came back on! This is when I yelled "FUCK YOU" and then drove around for a bit to make sure Angus was asleep again, and then parked and then crawled over the seat into the back seat again, and wrestled Angus BACK into the Snugli, but he wasn't really asleep and by this time really pissed off that I kept waking him up.

I figured he'd be okay once I started walking. HAH! I must never assume such things. Right around the baby butt cream aisle, he yelled at me, so I yelled back. Then I tried to bounce him around so he would quit yelling so I could read the bottles of butt-cream, but he wasn't having any of that, so I stuck my finger in his mouth and he gummed it for about three seconds before realizing that it wasn't the real deal and he got PISSED OFF.

So had to do this awkward dance where I drape a blanket over the baby and the Snugli and try to maneuver my right breast out of my bra and then out of my shirt, and then adjust the Snugli so Angus's face is right in front of the boob, and then direct his frenzied baby-bird squawking to the nipple, all while trying to remain decent and covered-up. I thought we were good until Angus reminded me that HE DOES NOT LIKE THE RIGHT BOOB.

I gave up and just shoved my finger in his mouth and then ran violently up and down the aisles until I got to the foot fungus aisle. And this is the part where I bend over to pick up the Tinactin and Angus nearly slides out of the Snugli and lands on his head.

At this point, we're both pretty pissed off, and I couldn't even remember what the hell else I was supposed to get from Wal-Mart, so we headed to the food court to get food.
The best part is that I FORGOT the foot cream somewhere... god knows. Did I even buy it? Did I leave it on a shelf? Did I shoplift it? I have no idea.

On the way out to deliver dad's food, Angus was screaming at me, and this time it was really his hungry scream, and I just remember thinking how urgently I was trying to get food delivered to my family, and it struck me as funny, I'm not sure why.

So that was a day in the life. I didn't even manage to do what I was supposed to do today, the whole reason I took the car and completely ruined my baby's schedule and put him in a bad mood for the whole day. I was supposed to go to the post office and send off the application form to recieve Child Tax Benefits. I can't understand why the government doesn't just know already that I had a baby and that I NEED MONEY. I mean, Angus has a birth certificate, a SIN card, and a health care card. Surely the government knows about him by now, and surely that must mean that he has a parent who is not working that NEEDS MONEY for really expensive butt-creams.

Dear Angus,

Today you are exactly eight weeks old. That means we haven’t even known each other for two months, yet I feel like I have always known you. It’s been a huge adjustment for both of us, hasn’t it? The first month and half were hard for both of us - you being forced out of your snug little cocoon into a bright, noisy world, entrusted into MY care for some bewildering reason. I spent a lot of the first few weeks staring at you trying to figure out what your screams meant and why you were so unhappy. I had no idea babies cried so much. Before you were born, I thought it would be pretty easy. I had this idea that I would just trust my intuition, and that you and I would have this instant bond and I would always know how to make you happy. I thought babies only cried when they needed something basic, and that I could meet those needs easily and then you would stop crying. How wrong was I!

I’ve learned that you are really trying to communicate small things, and crying is the only way you know how to do that. The last week has been wonderful. I finally feel like you and I are on the same page. Now I actually appreciate your cries, because it means you are talking to me. And I’m getting a little better at this, so it’s easier to anticipate what you want.
You cry when you are hungry (of course you do, even I cry sometimes when I’m hungry too) but you also cry when, like an idiot, I try and trick you and put you on the right boob, when I should know better - you only like the left boob. (So when you’re all grown up your friends ask you why your mom has lopsided boobs, you can tell them it was your own fault.)
You cry when I think you are sleeping, and I try to put you down in your swing. Your eyelids swing open and you do not hesitate to let me know loudly that you want to be swung in my arms for just a few more minutes. Then you cry when you wake up and discover that you have been left to sleep in the swing, rather than in my arms.
When you’re playing happily on the floor, you’ll cry once you discover that your horrible neglectful mother deserted you to selfishly go empty her bladder.

The most monumental thing I’ve learned this week is that the reason you have total melt downs, is because you can’t be awake for any more than two and a half hours. Since I have learned this, you and I have been in a much better mood. You are like your mother - you get very cranky when you get over stimulated, when you are hungry, and when you need a nap.

This week you have really been smiling - big, giant, toothless, happy smiles and you look at me when you do it, which is thrilling. Sometimes you will grin at the lamp, or the stove, or that weird fuzzy puppet thing that great-grandpa gave me, and I can understand that, because you have never seen these things before.
Yesterday you had a really good meal, and as you fell asleep, you actually LAUGHED! You outright laughed. You did in in your sleep, but it melted my heart and I just wanted to squish you and kiss you all over, but you cry when I do that, so I restrained myself.

My favourite time of the day is night time, because we cuddle and we are happy together in bed. You don’t have to be moved for your next meal, because it is right next to your face all night long. You and I hog the whole bed, leaving your poor dad pressed up against the wall all night long, but he doesn’t mind because he loves us.

I love feeding you. I can’t believe you never get sick of the same meal all day long, day after day. You love to eat, and you know when it’s coming. As soon as I get you into position, your mouth opens and closes like a baby bird, and then you wave your head back and forth trying to find the Holy Boob, snorting with excitement.

I have a few apologies I would like to make:

1. I’m sorry for accidentally kicking you in the head the other day when you were kicking around happily on the floor. I felt so guilty, I picked you up and you and I sobbed together. I don’t think I hurt you, I think it just startled you and you starting crying, and then once hearing your own frantic cries, you started crying harder. I was really worried that I gave you brain damage, so I’m sorry. Your mother is a huge klutz, and I really hope you don’t inherit that.

2. I’m sorry for never having cut your fingernails yet. I know it’s something I’m supposed to do, but I’m so terrified of accidentally cutting off one of your fingers, (remember, your mother is a giant klutz.) Luckily, you only ever scratch the shit out of me, not yourself.

3. I’m sorry for never changing your diaper during the night, and letting you wake up in a soggy mess of pee and poop. I have no excuse, I’m honestly just that lazy.

4. I’m sorry for eating all that broccoli for two nights in a row, and then finding it hilarious when you farted non-stop for two days.

5. I’m sorry for those times when you were screaming, and after feeding you, burping you, playing with you, and changing your diaper, all I could do was stand there staring at you, screaming silently in my head because I didn’t know what else to do. Finally I had to leave you in your bouncer chair in the bedroom and shut the door. When I checked on you in five minutes, you were passed out, so I guess what you were trying to tell me was “You stupid woman, I just need to be left alone!”

6. I’m sorry for not bathing you for an entire week, and thinking its okay to bathe you in baby wipes.

7. I’m sorry for embarrassing you by talking about my boobs.

I love you Angus,. Bringing you into this world fundamentally changed me, and I can’t thank you enough. You have made your mom and dad better people, and you have also brought your mom and dad closer together. Everybody loves you so much, and all your grandparents who are spread out across the country, can’t wait to get their claws on you and spoil you rotten.

I promise to kiss you every day, and tell you I love you at least once a day. I promise to read to you every night. I promise to bathe you more frequently. I promise to keep my relationship with your dad a priority so we can have a happy family forever. I promise to put money aside for your education, so you don’t do what I did and get a student loan and then skip the country for two years thinking it would just go away. I promise to encourage you in whatever interests you have.

I can’t wait to see you grow up and see the person you turn out to be.

Love, mom.