It's a pretty amazing thing to watch someone live her dream. I had the opportunity to do just that on Friday night.
My university roommate, Mandy, is an amazing person to begin with. We hit it off on Day 1, wiping away tears after saying goodbye to our loved ones and hello to each other. She was a guitarist majoring in math, I was a French major dabbling in singing, and we figured our don put us together because we were the messiest Christians on our floor. One time, a friend walked in and looked around, out of genuine curiosity, asked "How do you live like this?" Mandy and I performed in pretty much every coffee house we could, doing songs like Still Fighting It by Ben Folds, Beautiful One by Jeremy Camp, and a medley of Forever Young/Golden Girls Theme. We got to know each other's families, and have kept in touch over the years, largely due to the other equally awesome friends we made at St. Jerome's.
Once a year, we have a cottage weekend at our friend Meagan's, and this past year, Mandy brought out her guitar and played us a song that she wrote. She also let us know that she had plans to audition for a band. There are a lot of people who say they want to be rock stars when they grow up, but Mandy was serious. And this fall, she joined indie rock band Paint.
The band is composed of several really excellent musicians: Robb is on lead vocals and guitar, Mandy rocks out on rhythm guitar and backing vocals, Marcus mans the bass, and Chris kills the drums (Hubby, also a drummer, was duly impressed). We caught their live show downtown on Friday night at a local club, and it was pretty unbelievable. You know when you go see a band for the first time, and maybe you only know one or two songs of theirs, and you're counting down to those songs? This was not remotely like that. They brought incredible energy to the stage, fun banter, and an engaging radio-friendly sound. It kind of makes you wonder that when there is so much out there that's contrived, how a band with such genuine talent can be relatively unknown. Mind you, that's changing pretty quickly: in the few months since their latest incarnation, they won a fan favourite contest from 102.1 The Edge in Toronto, and just wrapped up a two-month tour of Ontario and Quebec.
Watching Mandy onstage was obviously a huge source of pride for me. She's an introvert like me, but at the same time she looked completely natural rocking out onstage with her bandmates, and even engaging the audience between songs (including offering a shout-out to hubby & I up on the balcony). I wondered what Paint had been like without her! Afterwards, we hung out by the merch table and got caught up on each other's lives while I happily sported my newly acquired Paint shirt (which I have worn every day since). I am so thrilled to see her living her dream!
Driving home that night, I felt very blessed indeed to be living my dream as well. I wanted to be a teacher from the age of ten, but I have wanted to be a wife and stay-at-home mom for as long as I can remember. Now, at 26, I have the most supportive, helpful (not to mention good-looking) husband ever, who is working hard to support our family as he moves towards his career goal; I have a beautiful, endearing daughter who is growing and changing every day; I have wonderful friends who love me even though my house is messy and I don't always keep in touch; I have a faithful Lord who loves me even more than my parents and husband do (which is pretty hard to fathom), and provides for all of our needs. In the more difficult moments of life, these are the things I hold onto.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Musings on motherhood
Last year was my first Mother's Day, but this year's celebration has been more meaningful. A year ago, I did stand up in church when they asked all the moms to, and I took home a flower like the other moms did. I didn't have much of a belly at the time, and even though I definitely was a mom, it didn't feel as real because I figure most moms know their children's names and birthdays. Now that baby D is here and has been for 7 months, the day has greater meaning for me. And not just because we had her formally dedicated at today's service.
The more D grows and changes, the more admiration I have for my own mom. Every stage D goes through brings different challenges and delights: when she was a newborn, I loved how she smelled, and how much she slept, and how she only cried if she needed a feed or a change; I wasn't a huge fan of not being able to put her down, even for a few minutes, without her crying (a swing remedied that situation). When she was a bit older, I loved her first smiles and giggles and noises, although it was really tough getting her to sleep in her crib- she hated being away from us and screamed for up to an hour. Now, she's in a really awesome stage: she's loving solid food (but I do still nurse her several times a day), she babbles a lot (and I know it's way too early to read into this, but she does seem to say mamamamama when she looks at me and dadadada when she looks at her dad), she can sit and is very close to being able to crawl. At the same time, she still isn't great in the car, and has been waking up a lot in the middle of the night lately.
Being a mom, I've learned, is a pretty tough job. You don't get sick days, but you can sleep in and take naps when needed. You don't have as much free time, but you get to see your kid grow and change every day. (And I really love being there for all of her milestones.) You have to learn how to prioritize and multitask like never before. You have to intentionally ask for help and make time for yourself, not to mention time for you and your partner. You have to be willing to share your child, but in return you get to see the people you love, love your kid. You sing silly songs and make ridiculous faces just to elicit a toothless smile or a sweet giggle, and you get to see others do the same.
Mom, I have no idea how you did this with 4, but I'm looking forward to finding out. For the moment, though, I have my hands full with one.
My mom, her mom, D's mom and D.
The more D grows and changes, the more admiration I have for my own mom. Every stage D goes through brings different challenges and delights: when she was a newborn, I loved how she smelled, and how much she slept, and how she only cried if she needed a feed or a change; I wasn't a huge fan of not being able to put her down, even for a few minutes, without her crying (a swing remedied that situation). When she was a bit older, I loved her first smiles and giggles and noises, although it was really tough getting her to sleep in her crib- she hated being away from us and screamed for up to an hour. Now, she's in a really awesome stage: she's loving solid food (but I do still nurse her several times a day), she babbles a lot (and I know it's way too early to read into this, but she does seem to say mamamamama when she looks at me and dadadada when she looks at her dad), she can sit and is very close to being able to crawl. At the same time, she still isn't great in the car, and has been waking up a lot in the middle of the night lately.
Being a mom, I've learned, is a pretty tough job. You don't get sick days, but you can sleep in and take naps when needed. You don't have as much free time, but you get to see your kid grow and change every day. (And I really love being there for all of her milestones.) You have to learn how to prioritize and multitask like never before. You have to intentionally ask for help and make time for yourself, not to mention time for you and your partner. You have to be willing to share your child, but in return you get to see the people you love, love your kid. You sing silly songs and make ridiculous faces just to elicit a toothless smile or a sweet giggle, and you get to see others do the same.
Mom, I have no idea how you did this with 4, but I'm looking forward to finding out. For the moment, though, I have my hands full with one.
My mom, her mom, D's mom and D.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Humourous things that happened in the past 5 minutes
1. Me: Wow, my pants are really high right now. [In my defense, I had started off sitting up straight and had slowly slouched down, while my pj pants remained in the same place.]
Hubby: Let's measure from the top of your waistband to the bottom of your bra... oh look! Less than 2 inches.
2. Me: "What snacks were brought?"
Hubby: "What?"
Me: "What snacks were brought?"
Hubby: "What you just said to me sounded like German."
Hubby: Let's measure from the top of your waistband to the bottom of your bra... oh look! Less than 2 inches.
2. Me: "What snacks were brought?"
Hubby: "What?"
Me: "What snacks were brought?"
Hubby: "What you just said to me sounded like German."
Feint, perry, riposte
Just after dinnertime, I was taking laundry off the line (and being thankful that it hadn't been rained on). We have a path behind our house, and people often walk animals and children there. Because our property doesn't have a fence around it, we have occasionally found "presents" in our back yard, which I am presuming were left by said animals, or perhaps neighbours' pets. I love our next door neighbours on either side, so even if their pets were the culprits, I wouldn't be put out. I assume that most pet owners (I hesitate to use the popular "pet parents" as I espouse the antiquated notion that parents generally have offspring of the same species, whether biologically or adoptively) are responsible people who pick up after their animals, because in my experience, most of them do. Likewise, I assume that, when walking their dogs, they keep them on a leash.
However. (You knew that was coming.) That was not the case this fine spring evening. A woman was walking her schnauzer when the little beast ran away from her, tore across our lawn and up the side of our house. She tittered and casually remarked to me how he must have gotten away from her. I stared at her, not trusting myself to speak, lest I make any snide comments like "did he? Are you sure?" She called him in a half-hearted, unenthused voice, and he did not return. Then she called him again, mentioning that she was leaving, and Spike (for this is apparently its name) came rushing back.
Owner lady did not, as most might think to do, reattach his leash. Spike then realized that he hadn't torn up the other side of the house, so he proceeded to do that. I didn't find his behaviour as innocuous and perhaps endearing as she did, but rather than yell and carry on, I finished taking the laundry off the line and went inside. (An aside: it's a blasted good thing baby D wasn't outside with me, as she sometimes is when I'm hanging up or taking down laundry.) Next home reno project: a fence around the yard.
However. (You knew that was coming.) That was not the case this fine spring evening. A woman was walking her schnauzer when the little beast ran away from her, tore across our lawn and up the side of our house. She tittered and casually remarked to me how he must have gotten away from her. I stared at her, not trusting myself to speak, lest I make any snide comments like "did he? Are you sure?" She called him in a half-hearted, unenthused voice, and he did not return. Then she called him again, mentioning that she was leaving, and Spike (for this is apparently its name) came rushing back.
Owner lady did not, as most might think to do, reattach his leash. Spike then realized that he hadn't torn up the other side of the house, so he proceeded to do that. I didn't find his behaviour as innocuous and perhaps endearing as she did, but rather than yell and carry on, I finished taking the laundry off the line and went inside. (An aside: it's a blasted good thing baby D wasn't outside with me, as she sometimes is when I'm hanging up or taking down laundry.) Next home reno project: a fence around the yard.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Not the Babysitter's Club
My friend B called the other day to see if I would look after her little guy, baby O; we carpool with them to our women's Bible study every week, so I knew baby D would be okay with it, and I'm a big fan of his, so I said yes. B has this awesome idea of assembling a list of moms in our area who could use a couple hours of babysitting every now and then, and I think it's fabulous! This way, when one of us wants to go to an appointment, or get groceries, or even just have a bit of time to ourselves, we can! I'm lucky enough to have family nearby (including baby sis who's home from college for the summer- hooray!), but not everyone does.
As for the matter of payment, it's unnecessary for money to change hands. Even though B offered to pay, I was quite happy to have baby O come over and play with D and have lunch with us. (Because O's about three months older than D, it's fun to see what we have to look forward to with her, like eating with more skill, and crawling around. Also, the two babies seem quite taken with each other, and who could blame them? They're both ridiculously, and empirically, cute.) When B came to pick him up, she asked if I could use a box of size 3 diapers, since she had bought a huge box which no longer fit baby O. Even though I use cloth diapers, I keep disposables on hand for when we go out to church or over to a friend's house. And baby D just happens to be wearing size 3! Perfect.
All this reminds me of a system that my parents had with other families who lived in our area; it was a babysitting co-op (possibly based on the play group we attended), and families would have a certain number of poker chips that they traded for babysitting services. My mom said that they acquired way too many chips because they looked after other kids more than they needed us looked after. But it's neat to see this kind of thing repeated in my own generation.
Duvet update: at the time of posting, the duvet is still drying. Not on the line, but in the basement.
As for the matter of payment, it's unnecessary for money to change hands. Even though B offered to pay, I was quite happy to have baby O come over and play with D and have lunch with us. (Because O's about three months older than D, it's fun to see what we have to look forward to with her, like eating with more skill, and crawling around. Also, the two babies seem quite taken with each other, and who could blame them? They're both ridiculously, and empirically, cute.) When B came to pick him up, she asked if I could use a box of size 3 diapers, since she had bought a huge box which no longer fit baby O. Even though I use cloth diapers, I keep disposables on hand for when we go out to church or over to a friend's house. And baby D just happens to be wearing size 3! Perfect.
All this reminds me of a system that my parents had with other families who lived in our area; it was a babysitting co-op (possibly based on the play group we attended), and families would have a certain number of poker chips that they traded for babysitting services. My mom said that they acquired way too many chips because they looked after other kids more than they needed us looked after. But it's neat to see this kind of thing repeated in my own generation.
Duvet update: at the time of posting, the duvet is still drying. Not on the line, but in the basement.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
The duvet debacle
Friends, it is not every day that I do something so spectacularly idiotic that it needs to be shared with the blogosphere, but today is that day.
After darling baby D slept gloriously through the night (we suspect she is teething, as she has been more fussy and wakeful than usual), she joined me for her morning feed. Hubby picked her up between sides for some cuddles, and out of nowhere she projectile vomited her breakfast onto him and the side of the bed he was sitting on. This included The Duvet.
We have a wonderful synthetic duvet that the in-laws bought us on their last visit. Previously, we'd had a down-filled one, but Hubby found out he was allergic to it. In the few months since we've had the new one, I washed it once and wasn't pleased with the results; there were wet patches and dry patches, and I don't think it got that clean. I resolved to go to a laundromat next time it needed washing.
Do you suppose I thought to myself this morning, "why, it's a lovely day to track down a laundromat in the suburbs and spend a few hours there washing and drying one item." Rhetorical. Of course I didn't. I heedlessly stuffed the duvet around the washing machine, refusing to take note of the warning to "not pack or wrap items around the spinnerly post in the middle of the washer" (or whatever it is that I've certainly read dozens of times).
I've since learned that a duvet weighing a scant 5 pounds dry can weigh in the neighbourhood of 75 pounds wet. I heard the washer making a loud clicking sound, so I sprinted downstairs, and shut the machine off right away. This in itself is a personal victory of sorts, since I would normally think to myself that the washer should man up and do its job, regardless of how much the load weighs. You can see how that kind of thinking might have disastrous results.
I used all my might to wrench the duvet out of the washer into the dryer, spilling water copiously on the floor. I shoved it into the dryer and waited for a few minutes, and verily, the weight was too much for the dryer to bear, so I pulled it out, jammed it into a laundry basket with some dry towels and (I kid you not) danced/jumped up and down on it to press out as much water as I could. Then I regained use of my senses and moved the process to the fully concrete floor, away from the area rug by the washer and dryer.
Anyway, everything is fine, nothing is broken, and the duvet is on the line keeping the snowflakes company. I would pick the first snowfall since February to absolutely need to use the clothesline, wouldn't I?
After darling baby D slept gloriously through the night (we suspect she is teething, as she has been more fussy and wakeful than usual), she joined me for her morning feed. Hubby picked her up between sides for some cuddles, and out of nowhere she projectile vomited her breakfast onto him and the side of the bed he was sitting on. This included The Duvet.
We have a wonderful synthetic duvet that the in-laws bought us on their last visit. Previously, we'd had a down-filled one, but Hubby found out he was allergic to it. In the few months since we've had the new one, I washed it once and wasn't pleased with the results; there were wet patches and dry patches, and I don't think it got that clean. I resolved to go to a laundromat next time it needed washing.
Do you suppose I thought to myself this morning, "why, it's a lovely day to track down a laundromat in the suburbs and spend a few hours there washing and drying one item." Rhetorical. Of course I didn't. I heedlessly stuffed the duvet around the washing machine, refusing to take note of the warning to "not pack or wrap items around the spinnerly post in the middle of the washer" (or whatever it is that I've certainly read dozens of times).
I've since learned that a duvet weighing a scant 5 pounds dry can weigh in the neighbourhood of 75 pounds wet. I heard the washer making a loud clicking sound, so I sprinted downstairs, and shut the machine off right away. This in itself is a personal victory of sorts, since I would normally think to myself that the washer should man up and do its job, regardless of how much the load weighs. You can see how that kind of thinking might have disastrous results.
I used all my might to wrench the duvet out of the washer into the dryer, spilling water copiously on the floor. I shoved it into the dryer and waited for a few minutes, and verily, the weight was too much for the dryer to bear, so I pulled it out, jammed it into a laundry basket with some dry towels and (I kid you not) danced/jumped up and down on it to press out as much water as I could. Then I regained use of my senses and moved the process to the fully concrete floor, away from the area rug by the washer and dryer.
Anyway, everything is fine, nothing is broken, and the duvet is on the line keeping the snowflakes company. I would pick the first snowfall since February to absolutely need to use the clothesline, wouldn't I?
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
NYC's allright with me
My wonderful in-laws are visiting from Australia for the next month, and baby D, hubby and I couldn't be more thrilled! They were here in October for D's birth, and have only been able to see her over Skype and Facebook since. Needless to say, we've been spending a lot of quality time catching up with them.
We drove through the night on Friday to pick them up at Kennedy airport in NYC (baby D doesn't do well in the car, but this was a pretty good strategy, albeit a tiring one for us), and stayed with diplomat friends in the city. It was my first time visiting, and after asking for suggestions from family and friends, ended up seeing and doing quite a bit in our long weekend there. Highlights include:
-FAO Schwartz
-5th Avenue
-Lunch at Whole Foods
-traditional worship service at Calvary Baptist Church
-a leisurely stroll through Central Park
-a super-chocolatey cupcake from Crumb bakery
-a soft pretzel
-Anthropologie by Rockefeller Square
-watching skaters (of the ice, not board, variety) in Rockefeller Square
-buying a beautiful scarf from a street vendor for 5$ (don't worry, I'll wash it first!)
We took the long way home, stopping by Pennsylvania Dutch country (it was Monday, and all the clotheslines were full of drying clothes! I love this season, and my own clothesline), Hershey Chocolate Factory and the nearby outlet stores. We stayed overnight in Wilkes-Barre, near beloved Scranton (what? The Electric City), where The Office is set. We checked out of our EconoLodge at 10:15, and got home at 7. Clearly, we made a few stops, including Burlington Coat Factory (which used to sell mainly coats, surprisingly, but is now an equivalent of Winners), and several rest stops to alternately feed and change baby D. She did not do quite as well on the way home; I went straight to my room to feed her and stayed there for the balance of the evening. Dad-in-law kindly procured us pizza for dinner, so I didn't have to cook! Did I mention my in-laws are wonderful?
We drove through the night on Friday to pick them up at Kennedy airport in NYC (baby D doesn't do well in the car, but this was a pretty good strategy, albeit a tiring one for us), and stayed with diplomat friends in the city. It was my first time visiting, and after asking for suggestions from family and friends, ended up seeing and doing quite a bit in our long weekend there. Highlights include:-FAO Schwartz
-5th Avenue
-Lunch at Whole Foods
-traditional worship service at Calvary Baptist Church
-a leisurely stroll through Central Park
-a super-chocolatey cupcake from Crumb bakery
-a soft pretzel
-Anthropologie by Rockefeller Square
-watching skaters (of the ice, not board, variety) in Rockefeller Square
-buying a beautiful scarf from a street vendor for 5$ (don't worry, I'll wash it first!)
We took the long way home, stopping by Pennsylvania Dutch country (it was Monday, and all the clotheslines were full of drying clothes! I love this season, and my own clothesline), Hershey Chocolate Factory and the nearby outlet stores. We stayed overnight in Wilkes-Barre, near beloved Scranton (what? The Electric City), where The Office is set. We checked out of our EconoLodge at 10:15, and got home at 7. Clearly, we made a few stops, including Burlington Coat Factory (which used to sell mainly coats, surprisingly, but is now an equivalent of Winners), and several rest stops to alternately feed and change baby D. She did not do quite as well on the way home; I went straight to my room to feed her and stayed there for the balance of the evening. Dad-in-law kindly procured us pizza for dinner, so I didn't have to cook! Did I mention my in-laws are wonderful?
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