Reflections, Part II

Midnight.

I should be sleeping but I have to finish the reflections I started a couple of months ago, as tomorrow is the day I return to work.

I hoped tomorrow hadn't crept up so soon.

Am I ready to return to work? The tangible things aside (my lunch, extra utensils for my desk, a dozen chocolate chip cookies for the coworkers), I'm as prepared mentally as I figured I allowed myself.  I refuse to be ready to return, but aim for "adequately anxious".

Despite having an infant in the house, I actually have been extremely lucky to have been able to sleep in on most occasions, even after being rudely awoken at 4am. This past week alone I haven't been up before 9am; I don't know if I can get up at 6:30 every morning from now on.

It is what is it.

I hope that I have the strength to balance my life from hereon in.  Work. School. Family. A work-life balance will mean a lot more to me than it ever will, and I hope I don't lose perspective on what really counts in life.

End of an Era...Sort Of.

And.....SEND!

"No more school, no more books, no more teachers, dirty looks!"

Kinda.....for now.

Having had one more paper left hanging from my last class that ended in December, I finally polished it off and hit that SEND button just minutes ago.

My last paper for the year.

As I breathe heavily and glance soulfully at the papers and textbooks strewn around me, I try to collect my feelings of.....accomplishment?  Of dread? Of forlornness?

My feelings are mixed: like waiting for the other shoe to drop, I'm waiting for the jubilee I expected from completing my final assignment before my pending maternity leave from work and school, but it's just not coming.  It's like I'm missing something: is it a fear? A fear of a lack of purpose in life?  Perhaps not a fear of a lack of purpose but perhaps a fear of being rejected from the life I knew, a built-up, dream-like state of academia life and being lost within my real reality, of family and obligations.

Is that wrong?

School will be there for me next January when I resume my degree, and although it's difficult to envision now, next January will come around so fast I'll likely be cursing the passage of time and longingly look back to what the future holds for me today.

So, as parallelisms go, as I gather my papers and close my books, I end another chapter in my life and open another one.  Instead of going to classes, taking notes, writing papers, one thing that will remain the same are my group projects, albeit of a different kind.

My group will now consist of my husband, my two little boys and my new little girl who arrives in 3 weeks, and my new projects will be more colourful, likely messy and dysfunctional, and most definitely more satisfying than I could possibly imagine.

When The Going Gets Tough...

I threw in the towel today.

As much as I refuse to admit defeat and use the words, "I surrender", I did just that.

I surrendered.

I surrender to the expections I have placed on myself to being everything to everybody.

I surrender to the unexpected events I have endured, worrying about the what-ifs that would've changed things and the what-ifs that may never be.

I surrender to the facade of being a good mother, in the face of actually being a good mother.

I surrender to what is left of me.

I have been forced to realize the status of my self-being: being suddenly deprived of everything I sought so hard to achieve, yet also feeling that perhaps I had never achieved anything in the first place.

So I'm taking a time-out, a "forced" (tell me, who admits defeat, willingly?) "medically-supervised" (read: borderline clinical depression) leave-of-absence from my job, so I can re-focus, re-adjust, refine and re-find my mind, body, spirit because, somewhere, I lost myself.

Where am I?

As I stood in the hallway of my doctor's office, staring out the tower window looking down on the street below, I contemplated what a leave-of-absence meant.

Defeat.

Weakness.

Incapable.

Failure.

Surely others have way more on their shoulders, yet why can I not do the same: grin and bear it?

So, I will take these next few weeks to gather my wits, "take a breather", learn to de-multitask, and focus on spending some time mending my spirit.

But in true Cheryl-style, to add insult to injury, I came across a book today, and I couldn't decide whether to throw it against a wall or curl up with it. It was a book on highly successful career-driven women and how they balance work and family. I bought it. If it's a secret, I do want in. But I'm not sure I'm ready to tackle my issues just yet, so this book will likely remain decoration on my nightstand, to taunt me, perhaps, or maybe it'll sink into my subconscious during sleep and then I'll finally know....

Firework

It's complete....my application to grad school!

I drove over to the University today and personally handed it in to the receptionist desk. It wasn't as satisfying as handing it directly to the Program Manager, but to have my CV and my Letter of Intent out of my hands and into the hands that be felt pretty dang good! Or so I thought...

I gathered myself together as I left the building, trying to sum up what I was feeling. Kinda like taking a deep breath and letting it all out slowly, wondering if I'll be able to breathe deep again. I thought I'd be quite celebratory afterwards, but the pessimistic side of me got to thinking, "Hey, you only got your application in! You still have to compete with all the other applications that are sitting there! Maybe you really should've smacked a proper Avery label on the envelope rather than handwriting the addressee on there like a kindergartener! It's not in the bag yet!"

Yep, anti-climactic me.

And it kinda kills me that Katy Perry's Firework keeps blaring out on the radio. It used to get me kinda hyped about doing something crazy like going to school again, and, like on cue, I heard it again on my drive home and I could only tap my fingers to the music rather than grandstand ridiculously in that dreamworld head of mine and belt it out.

I get a nice warm feeling inside, though, thinking, what if....

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?
Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin, like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?
Do you ever feel already buried deep, six feet under screams, but no one seems to hear a thing?
Do you know that there's still a chance for you, 'cause there's a spark in you?

You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine, just own the night like the Fourth of July
'Cause baby you're a firework, come on show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!" as you shoot across the sky-y-y
Baby you're a firework, come on let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!" , you're gonna leave 'em fallin' down-own-own.

You don't have to feel like a waste of space ; you're original, cannot be replaced
If you only knew what the future holds: after a hurricane comes a rainbow
Maybe your reason why all the doors are closed, so you could open one that leads you to the perfect road Like a lightning bolt, your heart will blow, and when it's time, you'll know

You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine, just own the night like the Fourth of July
'Cause baby you're a firework, come on show 'em what you're worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!" , as you shoot across the sky-y-y
Baby you're a firework, come on let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!" , you're gonna leave 'em all in awe-awe-awe

Boom, boom, boom, even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
It's always been inside of you, you, you , and now it's time to let it through
'Cause baby you're a firework , come on show 'em what your worth
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!" as you shoot across the sky-y-y
Baby you're a firework, come on let your colors burst
Make 'em go "Oh, oh, oh!" , you're gonna leave 'em all in awe-awe-awe

Sick of Being Sick

I tell you, this is the last time I don't fill a prescription right away!

I saw my doctor on April 1st, before the Easter Long Weekend, about this cough I've had for a month. It had escalated to some kind of flu during that week and I was afraid I had pneumonia of some sort. I was told my chest is ok, and given a puffer to use for a couple of weeks (it was a trial size, good for a month) and that I should be able to continue running with this.

And she gave me a prescription for antibiotics, should I eventually get (TMI....) gross-tasting, thicker phlegm. Being so straight-laced and having a penchant to listening to instructions really well, I pocketed the prescription, hoping I wouldn't have to fill it.

Well, the Long Weekend came and went, with a few people encouraging me to just fill the prescription, just in case. I know, I said, but never did. Well, last week I did really want to fill it, but now I realized I lost the bloody prescription!

And so the story goes...

I'm hacking away, coughing like there's no tomorrow, the phlegm coughing itself up, not quite making itself out, then back down where it will attempt to inhibit my breathing again at the most in-opportunistic time.

I've hunted high and low for that piece of paper, which I remember I folded in quarters, stuffing it into different pairs of jeans that first weekend, at the hopes I would pass by a pharmacy and be willing to fill it. Laundry's been checked, my bag and wallet taken apart. my jackets' pockets emptied: nothing.

Just sick of being sick!

Olympic Adversity

adversity. noun. 1, adversity. a stroke of ill fortune; a calamitous event

We all have adversities in our life. Some call it bad luck, others call it fate. But we learn to deal with it, regardless of how wrongly victimized we are. We learn to rise to the occasion, from the occasion.

This triumphant human spirit rejoices in the hearts and minds of all who were touched by the powerful and wrenching story of the Canadian figure skater, Joannie Rochette, whose mother passed away from a heart attack within hours of her arrival in Vancouver, a mere 2-3 days before Joannie would take to the Olympic ice for the 2010 Games.

Joannie maintained her third place ranking throughout her two skates, ultimately winning the Bronze Medal. Adversity fell in her lap, with the potential to cripple her, yet she somehow managed to stand, and stand tall she did, isolating her mental pain and anguish into bittersweet gratification. I can only imagine how deep and reflective she had to be, intentional or not, in order to pull those performances out of her.

Now, I'm not trying to over-dramatize. Although I used to be a huge figure skating fan at one point in my life (remember: Battle of the Brians, Kerrigan vs Harding, Midori Ito, the Jumping Bean?), I no longer follow the sport but an appreciation has remained for the hard work involved. But even then, my interest has waned. No, I'm way more interested in the human interest stories around these athletes, these Olympic athletes, specifically. They fascinate me with both their physical ability and their mental tenacity.

Take Slovenian cross-country skier Petra Majdic, who caught some ice and fell into a three-metre deep ravine while on a training run, broke four ribs (some reports say five), punctured a lung, and still managed to qualify, then make quarter-finals, then semi-finals and go on to win a Bronze medal.

How's that for conquering adversity?

So, now, I keep in mind: when kicked to the ground, there is always a way to get back on your feet again...you just need to dig deep within yourself to find out how.

I Believe.

Breastfeeding

I guess you could say I'm a breastfeeding advocate. Having breastfed my first child until he decided to stop at 16 months, I was very proud of the fact that he had only ever had 7 oz of formula in his life. I thought I would be as lucky to have such a lengthy experience with Mr. B....so not the case.

Mr. B was born at just under 7 lbs, a pretty average weight, but more than a pound lighter than his older brother. Breastfeeding is always difficult at first, as I learned with the first one, and thought I had a good handle over it for the second kid.

Mr. B has gone in for his 2-month and 4-month shots and each time he only hit the 25th-percentile in weight gain. Today, we went in for his 6-month shots and he dropped in weight to the zero-percentile. What does that mean? Of one hundred babies, 99 babies would weigh heavier than him.

I don't think that's a great stat to brag about.

So, now, I have to wrap my head around the fact that I simply can no longer support him on my milk alone. I'm quite disappointed. Disappointed in that my desire to provide the best possible nutrition does not supercede my ability to do so. I'm saddened that I may no longer be able to foster the closeness and warmth between me and Mr. B. But nor do I wish him to spiral into sub-zero-percentile at his next weigh-in three months from now.

Now my thoughts are preoccupied with how many bottles I need to buy, what type of formula to consider (ready-to-feed vs concentrated vs powder), feeding schedules, how much to give, how to be mobile with a "baby and bottle", how many bottles to make, when to make them...the list goes on, none of which I had concerns with when I was exclusively breastfeeding.

Today, I picked up a book The Breastfeeding Mother's Guide to Making More Milk, by Diana West. Still distraught at the thought of switching straight to formula only, I thought the book could impart some wisdom and insight into my situation. I was hoping I would read this 300-page book cover to cover tonight, in my attempt to provide calm and peace to my otherwise ravaged mind, but, as a mother, just couldn't find the time to spare. I skipped to the chapter on Supplementing without Decreasing your Supply, then flipped to the beginning when random page-reading left my head a-turning.

As a haven't read much yet, here is a brief review if you're interested. Recommended by the La Leche League, this book may provide the solace I so desperately need. The authors also have a website, lowmilksupply.org.

So I will be attempting to supplement at each feed but continue to breastfeed first, if he'll take it. Even if ultimately I end up exclusively formula-feeding Mr. B, this excerpt taken from my new purchase helps alleviate my pain:

Realize that you are a successful breastfeeding mother. This is not about how much milk you were able to produce or how long you were able to breastfeed. It is about the commitment you made to give your baby the best start in life and the tremendous effort your put into pursuing that goal. Even if breastfeeding didn't work out quite the way you may have hoped, you undoubtedly shared some special moments that you would not have had otherwise.....Most of all, remember that success lies not in ounces but with love. What a lucky baby you have whose mother is making the effort to give him the best of herself!

And Why I Prefer House Arrest

Being a mom to a newborn and a preschooler is tough, at least for me. Maybe all moms may feel like I do, given the situation, but I swear it felt like today was one of those days where I must be the only mom battling it out.

My preschooler used to go to daycare full-time, but since being home for maternity leave, I have him with me 24/7. So now I have two at home. It was easier the first time around. It was just me and The Kid and we could, and did, go anywhere we pleased, regardless of the weather. I think I even went across the border on our own. Anyways, this time around, I'm not that lucky. I actually can't be bothered! I've got a preschooler, who, thank God, was recently potty-trained. This means that I need to know where every toilet is, and not only that, it has to be clean (I'll take spotless, please!). Here, I'm already limiting myself. Eliminating parks from the picture (forget port-a-potties!), drastically reduces our fun time. If I can do without peeing by a tree, I will, so parks are out most of the time.

So, the sad life I lead, I stay at home most days, biding my time either feeding them, wiping them, cleaning up after them, and, should I be so selfish, spending some time on my computer. I bitch, complain, that I don't get to do anything but stay home and watch the kids, but only because my house arrest is self-imposed.

Well, today, I thought I should get out of the house. With the 1st of June fast approaching, the date the US Border requirement for all persons crossing to possess a valid Canadian passport takes affect, I realize that the Little One doesn't have his passport yet. The application was filled out a month ago, the photos taken shortly afterwards, so all I need to do is go down to the office and apply. And given the wonderful weather we've been having lately, I guess it should be my duty to go out and enjoy what, hopefully, could be the start of our late Spring.

I evidently also promised The Big Kid that we'd actually go to the park too. Woo hoo! [insert sarcasm here]

The application process at the government office went quite smoothly: we waited in one queue for 3 minutes and another queue for 5 minutes. Painless.

Then I thought we could go home. Nope, he remembered what I promised (they always do) and he insisted that we still go to the park. Not to be outdone by him later when he complains about being hungry and thirsty (I'm not one of those moms who knows how to pack in advance), I suggested to we go into the mall and buy some snacks.

With the Little One still asleep this whole time, we manage to make it into the store and hunt around for the grocery section at Zellers. Of course, it's all the way upstairs, so off we go to find the elevators. I'm running around quickly, grabbing some cookies, crackers, chips (healthy menu, yes, but the chips were his idea and I wasn't in the mood to fight it), and some juice that didn't say "simulated flavours" (SOMETHING has to be healthy here).

Then the crying begins.

I haven't even gotten all the items yet. The stroller awning was getting heavier with each added item; should it collapse and injure the baby within, I had to find a basket to toss things in.

Wail, wail.

Meanwhile, the Big Kid keeps dropping his bags of chips (yes, two bags...ain't gonna pass on a multiples deal!) and I swear, I wasn't going to buy crumbs, so I'm chasing him down, telling him to be careful.

Of course, there are no cashiers on the top floor, so I had to head downstairs again.

While at the cashier, arguing over the price of the scanned items (it's the principle, okay, not the money!), a growing crowd, yes, crowd of women were approaching the stroller.

- oh, he must be hungry!
- oh, he's so cute! what a darling!
- poor dear, now, now, no crying!
- is this your brother? how sweet!
- he's not stopping...oh, poor thing!

Back away from the baby! At least this is what I would've said if I wasn't vehemently arguing with a second cashier about my totalled receipt. I would've stood my ground and demanded some money refunded, but as the voices around me grew louder, the pool of sweat accumulated on my forehead and brow, my body temperature rising with each second, and I was burning up like crazy.

Just never mind! I said and grabbed my receipt, bags and the kids and busted out of there.

Out in the sun, the heat melting my makeup even more, I took a breath, closed my eyes, and gulped. What a mad house!

We went back to the car, and with our appetites getting the best of us, we cracked open the crackers, chips, cookies and juice. I nursed the Little One in the driver's seat while I recooperated from the craziness while the Big Kid was content with his Cool Ranch Doritos, sipping lukewarm apple juice. I gorged on Cracked-Black-Pepper-with-Olive-Oil Triscuits (yum..just like a chip..you should try it!).

He didn't forget about the park.

So we went there afterwards for an hour. He met some new friends, which is why we stayed so long. Hubby met us there, on his way home from work: oh, sweet surrender!

The Big Kid didn't even have to pee, even after all that juice.

I was grateful to get home....finally. I got my fill today, experienced the Outside and so I think I'll do this again....oh, next year. Lock the door, close the blinds...I'm staying home for a while.

This year is going to be a long one.

Photo credits:
Handcuffs by foxuman
Frustrated by John De Boer
(both royalty-free)

Compounding...On The Road

You never know when you're going to learn about something new. Last week, as I was going around doing my daily routine, I did just that.

My Little One has had a case of eczema, and over the past month since reporting it my doctor, it has gotten worse. The 1% hydrocortisone that was prescribed not only didn't work, my Little One now has white, bleached areas on his torso due to the medication. Bleached! I know he's fair-skinned (takes after his Daddy) but he's even MORE white in those areas. Like white leopard spots. Apparently, the doctor says, it wasn't strong enough. Whaaat? Seemed pretty darn strong to me, AND didn't work. Poor guy still had red welts, along with discoloured bleach spots. Not a good way to start Life, hey, Kid?

So we were prescribed another stronger medication of 0.5% Betaderm cream in a 2:1:1 concoction with Vaseline creamy and Glaxal Base cream.

Ever wonder how pharmacies can just whip out prescriptions in their black-hole abyss of shelves full of medications? Ever wonder how they manage to always have everything in stock? Don't wonder....they don't always. I found this out the hard way.

I have a Shoppers Drug Mart literally just behind my house. It's the best thing ever. If I need anything, even a loaf of bread, they've got it. But being the economical person I am, I thought I'd make a trip to Superstore and save a few bucks on the prescription. So I drop it off at 11:45 am and was told it would take 45 minutes to fill. Yikes....so NOT waiting for that, so I headed home.

(click to cue music)

I gave them some time to fill the prescription and returned at 1pm.

"Oh, we paged you and wanted to say we don't have the Vaseline Creamy required for the prescription, so it's not done yet". Did you ever think of calling me on the phone?

"I really need that prescription..."

"Ok, well, give me 5-10 minutes" WTF?....Couldn't you have taken that long to begin with?

So I hang out for 10 minutes, actually buying a few other stuff I needed. When I returned to the pharmacy counter...

"So, we made it using regular Vaseline. But we're waiting for your doctor to phone us back and ok it for us. You can wait or go home and come back once we've okayed this. Or you can take your prescription elsewhere."

Whaaaat?

"No, I can't go home again, I'll wait a few minutes."

So I sat down at a patio set display, looking pretty forlorn, and got to thinking...no, why should I wait for my doctor to call? Good luck with that....I never get a phone call back from her right away, only after a few hours. And to approve a prescription that was modified? If she says Vaseline Creamy , dammit, I should get Vaseline Creamy! Only the best for my baby!

I stomped right back to the counter and asked for my prescription back. The Shoppers Drug Mart by my house is SURE to have this.

(cue music again)

I screech over there in my car and ask the pharmacy assistant there if they have all the ingredients for my prescription recipe. Hmm, they said, we have the creamy vaseline but not the Glaxal cream.

Whaaat?

EVERY pharmacy has to have Glaxal....it's the non-medicinal, hypoallogenic cream that makes up almost all prescription creams. It's like the basis of all pharmaceutical lotions. They don't have this? Is this not Shoppers DRUG Mart? I just bought a huge jug of this at Superstore....perhaps I can aliquot it out for them.



They suggested I go to the Pharmasave not too far away, as they are a compounding pharmacy and will definitely be able to make anything there. Really? Anything? Aren't all pharmacies supposed to be able to do that anyways? They gave me the address and telephone number, and off I was....on the road again, silently cursing Willie Nelson for creating that joyous Road Trip tune. I wasn't whistling this time.

(danggit...different song please...)

I finally got there and they said the prescription would be ready in 15 minutes. No questions asked! No denying their ability to fill it. And they offered to delivery it FOR FREE because I couldn't wait 15 minutes (my babysitting services was expiring, with all this driving around). I can pay upon delivery. What service!

I noticed a sign by the till, thanking me for coming to a Compounding Pharmacy. So there's such a thing? There are not too many things that stump me suddenly. I had to research this when I got home.

(sigh)

A compounding pharmacy (CP) is a pharmacy that specializes in mixing raw ingredients. Apparently 99% of prescriptions are commercial drugs already made by drug companies. Among other things, a CP is great if you:

* can't take large pills. They can create smaller-dosage pills for easier swallowing or even make that in a liquid form, or, yikes, as suppositories!

* can add flavouring to medications if you absolutely can't stand the taste of what you're taking, or your kid will only take bubble gum flavours :) --- Obviously, not on the suppositories!

* remove a non-essential ingredient in medication that you are allergic to like gluten or dyes

* create a drug at a lower strength not readily available (like for infants, in my case)

What a fantastic concept! I guess most pharmacies just count pills or something and don't actually do much mixing (no offence to my pharmacist friends). I guess those at compounding pharmacies are true alchemists, modern day mad scientists, concocting anything needed for ultimate patient care.

I was so impressed with this concept, and the service I got, that I will probably be dropping a few more prescriptions there. You should look into finding one near you...it could save you a trip or two in the future!

A TAX-ing Time

April is Tax Month, and I hate it.

April is supposed to be fun, easy-breezy-Cover-Girl fun. It's my birthday month. It's my son's-birthday month. Spring is either here or approaching. Taxes are the LAST thing on my mind. So, of course, it's the LAST thing I end up doing...

I just spent a whole nerve-racking day yesterday, finalizing my numbers and finding my paperwork. And to top it all off, I have a home business and counting inventory is a pain. I have this freeware inventory software I've been using and it's sooooo user-unfriendly. My numbers and totals don't match on different screens: such a pain!

Anyways, my mom picked up my papers and such and is dropping it off at the accountant's office today. I hope they can read the little notes I wrote. Trying to get all your deserved tax credits is draining! There are even commercials on TV now, showing all the tax breaks you can you use if you qualify. Yeah, you and your accountant say you qualify, but they decide ultimately during an audit. That would just totally piss me off. I'm already missing some receipts that I know qualify for sure, so I'm already getting ripped off to begin with, and if they would audit me on top of that and ask me to pay MORE taxes....

I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but I think that the Government goes through all this "Do your own taxes" routine so that the average taxpayer won't rob them of all their money. They provide you with all those free General forms (omitting all the useful Schedules you think you don't need), they encourage you to use ufile or Quicken and Netfile on your own. They don't want you to take your taxes to an accountant, because THEY KNOW there are shortcuts and allowances that only accountants know how to use. I'm sure of this. That's why I won't do my taxes on my own anymore. More money in pocket, that's for sure, considering the complications we have with our tax returns (employment expenses, small business, rental income, etc). I'll just pay someone who knows way more about this stuff than I do. I'll use the refund to pay him for next year's tax return! That's the Circle of Life in action!



Now, let's just hope that we don't have to pay this year! Haven't ever but there's always a first!

My Fault....I'm So Mad!

Dear Son,

I'm sorry, darling. You won't be able to play SportBall with your buddies because your silly mommy didn't register you in time and it's all full. I'm more mad than you are sad, and it's my fault. What was I thinking? Why didn't I register you last week? I have been so busy with your baby brother, I totally forgot. I'm sorry!

We're on the wait list, #3. Who knows, maybe they'll let more than 12 kids in the class. I hope so...you haven't missed a session yet. You've had lots of fun there, right? I'll try and register you somewhere else, even if I have to drive far....then we can go back to the regular gym where we play.

Again, I'm sorry! Mommy won't do that again. I'm beating myself up over this...I hope you love me still, honey.

Love,
Mom

Real Estate....Part II

Wow!

We went to see that house this morning, and I am STILL drooling over it. It really is perfect! We wouldn't have to move (ie. downsize) until the kids are grown, and we're retired at 60, which will be when we can pay it off anyways.

Wow!

Just for fun, I'll be contacting my mortgage company tomorrow to find out what we can be pre-approved for. And if it looks good, then my mortgage broker will have some ideas on how to proceed. I'm still waiting to give the go-ahead with my realtor to see if we even have the power to make an offer.

I'm getting that sick feeling in my gut like I did when we bought our current house 7 years ago. Am I sick at how much more the mortgage will be, or sick about making the commitment to change?

I almost, almost, wished I hadn't seen it in the first place. It'll continue to haunt me.

Fed Up!

I'm tired, cranky, and fed up!

I just want to disappear away from my kids. Is it awful to want some peace from it all? The crying, the whining? I'm about ready to scream at the top of my lungs if my 2-month old doesn't stop crying. I am so tired of having to pick him up every single time he cries. Fed up. Cry, keep on crying! I've had enough!

And my toddler is not helping matters. I'm been trying to potty-train him, but unless you watch him CONSTANTLY, you can't catch him needing to go. I don't want to have to watch him constantly! I don't want to watch endless TV with him. I'm too tired to go outside and let him run around, because I can't get everybody ready to do so. It's just too much...I just want to open the back door and sneak out and not come back for hours. I could never actually do that, of course, but it's really nice to fantasize doing so and escaping this nightmare of a mess called Motherhood.

What have I had today? A cup of coffee and about 3 of my husband's home-baked chocolate chip cookies. Nutritious. Oh, and I ate the crusts of my son's grilled cheese sandwich I made him. Calcium. There's nothing else in the house...grocery shopping is just another one of those tasks left undone here.

Still wailing away....hmm......

I'd call my parents to see if they'd help out, but they're not calling me, so I interpret that as meaning they're happy to have a day to themselves, away from clingy grandkids. Don't blame them. Now, I'm just stuck with them until my husband comes home.

Maternity leave sucks. I'd rather be back at work. Another 11 months to go.

Maybe if I lock myself in the bathroom and cry, I can escape this life for just a moment...but I've got yet another diaper to change.

So Much For The Free Ride....

I'm in deep trouble.

I have a one hour presentation to give in 2 weeks time, to a group of strangers, my peers, and I've just started working on it tonight.

Good God!

Given what I've done so far, what, six PowerPoint slides with corresponding Notes, I'm in deep trouble. I had 6 months to work on this, and now I have 2 weeks (well, actually 1-1/2 weeks, which is when I fly out).

I feel like I'm back in university!

The national society of my profession is holding a Congress in June, at which I had promised to give a lecture. I thought, hell, I get free airfare, free accommodation, and free one-day registration to the Congress, and a Speaker's Gift, for contributing to my profession. Turns out that the provincial society, of which I'm a Board of Director, has also decided to attend the Congress, at the cost of the Society, with transportation and hotel and 4-day registration for the whole Congress. I could've gotten the whole kit and caboodle WITHOUT giving the damn lecture! And to top it off, I don't even get my one-night allowance in my own hotel room, since the Board members are bunking in pairs.

So much for the free ride! That Speaker's Gift better be a damn good gift!

T minus 8 days!

Hmm...really? Can't be...

...pregnant....yes, it's true...at least, I think.

My period hasn't come in about two weeks, and I thought this was getting ridiculous! Then I got to thinking, maybe, just maybe, I'm pregnant. Hmm, when would that have happened? I can't even, honestly, think that far back! LOL

So the first day of my last period was Feb 28. I went to Vegas between Mar 21 to Mar 25, which was when I expected to ovulate. I think (!) I did the deed before then, but I do know I did it once after then too. But I have long cycles (about 33-35 days long), so I'm trying to convince myself I got pregnant after the Vegas trip (if I'm pregnant at all!)

Let's back track as to why I need to determine when I got pregnant: I drank a lot in Vegas. Not once, but several times. Got drunk that first night, but not so much the other night but I think it's mainly because I didn't drink fast. But either way, I still drank a tall vodka cranberry on April 4, so I'm not completely in the clear.

So, yeah, I think I'm pregnant. I went out on Tuesday to buy a pregnancy test at the drugstore, and, in all honesty, I only bought it because it was the cheapest one on the shelf, at almost half price at $12. Considering I was hoping it wouldn't be positive, I wasn't worried about the quality of the sticks!

I didn't take the test right away, but should have because I went out to dinner and was feeling really, really guilty about taking some sips of red wine. I must have had about 6-10 sips before I passed it over to my cousin and told her (and the rest of the table) that I bought pregnancy tests and probably shouldn't drink anymore.

So I finally took it that night. Instructions are to pee for 5 seconds, no more, no less, and wait 2 minutes before reading the window. If you see a "+" then it's positive.

I saw a + right away, as I was counting the 5 seconds, and while I placed the cap back on, and while I laid it flat on the bathroom counter. I walked to the livingroom to sit down for the 2 minutes, then came back to the bathroom to read the instructions on how to interpret the results.

The kicker was the sentence "it doesn't matter if the lines of the + sign are different intensities", with the graphic showing the different appearances of the + sign. Mine matches the first example they showed for a positive result: dark vertical line, fainter horizontal line.



Shit.

My husband came out of my son's bedroom after putting him to sleep and I called him in the bathroom to interpret the result. He'd never make it as a woman: he couldn't even understand the instructions!

We gingerly high-fived each other, as our faces remained twisted with fear, mine more so than his (actually, mine a lot more!). I've been drinking here and there, I haven't been taking my prenatal pills religiously, I can't fly out to my cousin's wedding in November before the start of my third trimester, I've been eating either horribly, too much, or starving myself, and to top it all off, I'm terribly dehydrated because I drink more coffee than water.

What a great start, Kid!

I have an appointment with my family doctor today at 3:45 to confirm my results, and if it's true, how far along I am, if she can do an ultrasound.

And today is my birthday too. How's that for a surprise?

Drunk Husbands

You probably don't have to have a husband to know what I'm talking about. Be it boyfriend, common-law or not, significant other, etc, it all boils down to the same thing: husbands and drinking don't mix, or at least shouldn't.

My husband, being of Irish/Scottish descent, can naturally drink. I'm not implying here that those of Irish descent are alcoholics, but simply they can handle their liquor....but to a point, as I can only assume everyone has a threshold.

Well, apparently last night was one of the nights my husband reached his threshold. He gets very belligerent, a word he likes to use to describe a friend of his when that guy gets drunk. He usually says that with disgust, which is terribly ironic since he's exactly the same way, but probably only worse. Last night was not an exception....oh no! Scene: add my family as an audience, you've got a conconction for raw embarrassment and extreme regret.

As much as I would just love to embarrass him in front of the world as payback for his idiotness time and time again, I won't indulge in the sordid details of his splendid drunken glory last night, specifically what happened when we arrived home. Perhaps in another post when my emotions aren't as high. Given I'm in PMS mode right now, he sure is extremely lucky I'm not blogging for vengeance but for some sort of therapy, marriage-counselling, if you will. Sympathy? Yes, please....lots of it.

Note to self: must invent pull-out bed in bathroom one day.

What the F*#% !!!

Ok, if you can understand what I am typing here...I will try and keep this clear of errors...

I am typing away, creating my very first Mary Kay newsletter (yes, yes, I am a consultant....do not rile me silly, as that is not the issue here). So, anyways, I am typing away, and after trying to using keyboard shortcuts to copy and paste, my font on my screen gets really, really tiny. What the F*#$ !!

Ok, I have seen this before, so after uselessly playing around with the keyboard I realize that I can go to View at the menu above and select Text Size and violà! Fixed.

Aha, but now I have another major problem. Well, you see how I spelled violà just now...with a french accent. WELL! Let me tell you that my keyboard just suddenly now decided that it is going to be French now! My question marks end up like É and so do my quotation marks -- È --- see what I meanÉ damn! My backslash key gives me à. and my apostrophes are è!!!

What the F*#$ !!!

So, I know people are reading thie blog, so help me out smarty-pants.....how do you fix thisÉ damn, question marks!

You think this is funnyÉ I canèt continue like this! Damn you, keyboard!

Pregnancy

Today I found out that my cousin is expecting her second child. She and I were pregnant at the same time back in 2004/2005, where in April 5 she gave birth to her daughter and on April 10, I gave birth to my son. We were the first ones on the that side of the family to start the next generation, so the pregnancies were buzzing with excitement.

My cousin is due in September. I'm happy for her, truly I am. There were speculations and predictions of sorts (old wives tales and other foolery) suggesting that she'll have only one child. I'm happy that's not the case. I'd hate to have been pidgeonholed like that, like fate.

However, it's like I'm missing something here. Like I mentioned earlier, I was questioning when to have another baby. My son will be 4 next year. I definitely don't want him to be much older before having a second. But it's like I'm ready....yet not ready.

One of my good friends gave birth to her first child, a boy, this past week. Through unfortunate circumstances, we haven't had much opportunity to spend time together while she was pregnant, so I didn't really get to enjoy her pregnancy with her. I have yet to see her, but have wished her well with the new addition. I'm sure more pangs of mommyhood will hit me then.

But, getting back to why I'm not ready. Many reasons.

Number one reason: I'm not ready to get fat again. Look, I don't care what people say about you where you're pregnant. You're glowing! You look wonderful! How beautiful! My ass, I'm beautiful! Rotund, pot-bellied, wide-load, jabba-the-hut all come to mind instead. Gimme a break. I'll never get to be one of the women who look still ungodly beautiful and thin while pregnant. (Ok, so I'm not ungodly beautiful and so much thin right now, but follow me on this...). Or one of those women who bounce back to paper thin normalness after a couple of months after birth. I'm destined to be fighting pregnancy flab until the NEXT kid after that, if I ever get around to the third kid I thought I'd always have.

I'm just about enjoying the most normal body I've had in 3.5 years. I've done a couple of bootcamps and have been hitting the gym everyday for the past couple of weeks, and I am still not happy with my body. Granted, I've always been unhappy with my scale and my thunder thighs and flabby arms, but now I've got that and an added muffin top that I never had to deal with before (I had a 25 inch waist at one point....I'd be lucky if I can get under 30 before I cave in to pregnancy).

I said there are a number of reasons. But they're all shadowed by the fact that I don't want to get fat. I'm not ready yet. I need more skinny time! But my son does need a playmate desperately...I can't be playing livingroom hockey with him forever!

Acupuncture and Me

So I went to the acupuncturist yesterday afternoon for my first official visit. Melissa was going to keep it simple today, probably since it was my first time and all. We discussed a little about how I was feeling since I last saw her, and I told her it's been a pretty easy week for me. We discussed some of the nutritional guidelines she suggested in a PDF she sent me earlier, like switching to a more natural sweetener like stevia, the herbal tea she's prescribing, and the spirulina stuff.

She gave me some samples of the stevia, which I haven't tried yet. It's commercially available in pharmacies as "pure" or with "filler" so you can use it somewhat similarly to regular sugar. This stuff is super sweet, apparently. One single serving packet with "filler" (inulin fiber, if you're curious) is equivalent to 2 tsp of sugar. You can get the liquid stevia in a purer form and actually need only 2-3 drops to sweeten your coffee! It has 0 calories, no impact on glycemic index and is sooo much better for you than sugar and way better than those artificial sweeteners like aspartame found in Equal or NutriSweet (which has been linked to cancer...google it).

To give you an idea of how sweet it is I found a recipe online for 4 dozen chocolate chip cookies and it requires only 1/2 teaspoon of stevia powder!

I'm considering switching over eventually....when I can handle all the other changes in my diet well enough. :)

I didn't have to disrobe for the session: I just rolled up my pants to my knee. Melissa started with my left leg, asked me take a deep breath in and when I breathed out, she popped the needle in. Having had taken blood tests, donated blood and even taken a flu shot just the other day, it was actually a joke that people are actually scared of acupuncture! There's no pain, just a tiny prick, not even like that of a blood lancet where it's quick but quite sharp.

She asked me if there was anything I left, like numbing, tingling, warming, anything but not pain. Hmph, I felt nothing. I was hoping it was because I'm not in tune with my body yet and not that I was really a skeptic. She dropped another needle in the soft tissue between my index finger and thumb on my left hand...still nothing. But once she did the same for the right hand, I started to feel a warming crawling up my arm. It wasn't strong, but it was surely there. She says that's good, and that she could still that my body was already responding to before that moment.

I think she put 3 or 4 in each leg and one on each hand. Then she moved to the head of the bed. Um, where was going to put it? On my face?

She found a spot on my scalp but, funny, I didn't feel a thing.

She left me alone in the room for 10 minutes, to dream about things, relax. Take myself somewhere, she said. I listened to calming Orient music in the background, as the heater she placed by my feet warmed be up....

I was thinking about something, when she walked in again. Was that 10 minutes?

She wiggled the needles a bit and then left me alone for another 10-15 minutes.

I swear she walked in after 5....though I couldn't figure out what I was thinking about when she interrupted me!

I must have been at the verge of falling asleep, because I'm sure I was thinking about something. Melissa routinely finds people asleep when she returns, some fallng asleep as the first needle goes in. I'd hate to be found snoring!

At reception, I paid for my treatment, my herbs, and the bottle of spirulina, and left relaxed and calm. Little did I know that it would backfire later that night.

I was driving to a friend's house with my two-year old son in the back and it was just raining down like I haven't seen in a while. With him screaming at me to change the CD in the deck to me concentrating on the road, I just lost and and was screaming at the top of my lungs, not really at him, but to the world in general, I guess. I screamed so loud and verociously that I screwed up my throat. I pumped the music really loud to drown out everything, my son, even my own thoughts. Everything today, the calmness, the zen, the relaxation, right out the friggen window.

Where's Melissa now?

Back to Reality: where do I go from here?

The Caribbean vacation was so much fun, I'm finding it hard to believe that I have to come back to Vancouver and re-experience the mundane I have always known...life without palm trees, tank tops, flip flops, and buffets.

Eating was a challenge on the ship, but I didn't go too overboard (pardon the pun!). I hesitated to weigh myself after the trip but did anyway, at Danny's urging. He, apparently, lost 2 pounds, whereas I have gained 3. I attribute this not to gaining fat, but losing some muscle, as I was only able to hit the gym once at the beginning of the trip. I did some pushups this morning to gauge my upper body stregth....only 17. I think I could've done more, but I didn't press it (another pun....so punny!)

I returned from the trip on Sunday evening, and with the Remembrance Day stat. holiday Monday, I also had yesterday and today off from work. Back to the grind tomorrow.

You may notice that my title for this blog has changed. I originally started this blog as a Boot Camp journal. Now that I've finished boot camp, I find that I am actually on a journey to better health and wellness, and it doesn't stop at Day 20 of boot camp. I have realized that my physical health is one of utmost importance, for we only have one body, and we must take care of what was given to us. But most importantly is the balance between physical and mental health. I've come to realize that my emotional well-being is one that needs the most help, and like yin and yang, it was tied in with my physical health. I'm the first to tell you that I eat when I'm bored; I don't eat to be full. I also eat to serve my self-pitying phase I go through each day. It's my guilty pleasure for all the guilty things I did or plan to do. My sin, if you will. So in addressing my physical, I address my emotional. This is where my Boot Camp blog ends and my Journal of Life blog begins.

So, I will continue to express my worries, my complaints, my victories, my successes and my failures, in all I do. I invite you to sit and listen for a while, if possible. Many of you have enjoyed reading my little boot camp escapades, and it's given me much joy in sharing a bit of my life. I like to think that I may have been a writer in a former life, and blogging seems to give some purpose to this current existence.

You may come to the conclusion that I'm actually nuts, after listening to me for a while, or worse, STILL think I'm nuttier than you already thought. So be it. I'm all about being honest to one person only.....and that's me. And isn't that what it all boils down to?

I'll keep the image of those blue jeans above as the emblem to my blog. It'll serve as a reminder for the Start Line of this marathon I've started.