Monday Confessional

Oops! I'm a day late.

I was out of washcloths and baby wipes after Zuul's lunch yesterday, so I called the dog over to help clean her up.

Fa la la la la la la not sure.

Happy holidays, everyone! From the Subversive family home.

Sunday Confessional

Protip: Be prepared to do some explaining if you miss a spot or two on baby's face after a blueberry meal. They look remarkably like bruises. And you will miss a spot because cleaning up baby with just wipes or a wet cloth is impossible. I've just given up and tell people she's in a fight club.

As for the confessional part, I am so over this introducing baby to one food at a time thing. I know it's the right thing to do just in case she might have an allergy, but it's become tedious.

Sunday Confessional

The first "lullaby" I sang to Zuul was Pink Floyd's "Mother". It was the only song I could remember the lyrics to. Even though I named her after a song. Those sweet lyrics escaped me. "Mother" though? Like I was in high school, watching The Wall on repeat with my clique of band/art/film geeks all over again.

If you're wondering what the big deal is, go Google the lyrics and get back to me.

Creepy mom is creepy.

Zuul's going to be so fucked up.


***

And, with that, I'll be very pressed for time the next few days. We move in with Grandma and Grandpa on Thursday all the way over on Vancouver Island until we sell our Mainland home. Grandma & grandpa do not have wifi either. I write most of these blogs from my non-Bluetooth iPad while Zuul naps or plays next to me. Pro. Grandma and grandpa are very eager to help and play with Zuul, leaving me with more me time, but Con, only one computer to share between four people, therefore, OMG SO LOST WITH OUT MY SOCIAL NETWORKS!!!

I guess I'll finally be catching up on some knitting and exercise.

Wish me luck! I'm going to miss my home very, very much.

Help Bring Baby Carriers to Families in Need This Holiday Season

Help Bring Baby Carriers to Families in Need This Holiday Season

S.O.S

I sunk to a new low today.

Zuul was getting cranky, and I knew it was close to nap time, but it was also lunch time, and I was defrosting peas, praying she'd hold out until after lunch.  I started her on the boob in the nursery and she fell asleep.  

Anticipating this, I had Subversive Dad check in on me once, and, whispering I said "put the peas in the fridge, and please bring me my iPad and a sandwich."

Now, this isn't funny, Subversive Dad is going deaf.  He's usually pretty good at reading lips though, so I thought I would be ok.  However, 20 minutes after he gave me his iPad, I still hadn't been brought a single thing to eat so, desperate, I went to Facebook.

DISCLAIMER:  Please excuse the bad typing on my end as I was doing it with one hand while balancing a baby on my legs.  Also, excuse my first attempt at screen capturing.  I haven't quite figured out how to trim it all down.  I'm a bit graphically challenged - as you can tell by my sloppy blog.

Now, Zuul did wake up right when N called, but Subversive Dad made me a sandwich anyway with a side of shaming glances.  He swears I did not ask him for a sandwich, but if there is one thing you ought to know about me is I DO NOT MESS WHEN IT COMES TO FOOD!!!

Sunday Confessional

Two days ago, we started our normal routine of getting up, nursing and getting ready to walk the dog.


I must of been bagged because, while I took great care to protect Zuul from the frigid morning, I completely forgot to strap her in safely in her stroller.

If you follow my blog, you know this is a BIG FUCKING DEAL because Subversive Dog can really throw her weight around, and has damn near toppled the stroller over before in her excitement. Luckily for Zuul and I, (not so much for puppy), she has been nursing a scraped up paw and, therefore, with a sad limp, a lot gentler with us all.

Still, feeling like an epic fail as a mom. The only thing making me feel like less of a failure (just a little) is the story an old family friend told me.

Her daughter, who’s a year or two older than me, was also raised by a German Shepherd and told me about the day she parked her then toddler outside of a boutique and tied the dog to it before heading in to shop. (I’ll let that absorb with you for a bit.)

She came out to find the dog had pulled her baby 3 blocks down the street. No harm to any party except maybe a life lesson in where not to tie the dog (or leave your children, cough cough).

For the record, this particular mom is most excellent and a good life long friend. The 70’s were just a very different parenting era. Very. 0_o

That awkward moment...

… when you realize just how much you give up and don’t really give a shit.

Came for me just now when my right boob, which wasn’t being nommed on, made a big leaky mess, and I decided not to get changed because I doubt anyone will notice and I no longer care if they do.

Poor Subversive Dad.

Singing Badly Sunday: My Own Home-a necessary reblog

"Singing Badly Sunday: My Own Home: I miss it."

This is my friend Yael, who lives in Israel with her two children, ages 7 and 5.

It's been very difficult to be witty or sarcastic the last few days knowing she's dealing with one of the biggest parenting challenges I can think of... Protecting her children from rocket fire.  So this particular blog post from her is incredibly haunting.

I'm not going to politicize here.  I have Israeli and Palestinian acquaintances, both tired of this shit.  Both just wanting to have regular parental worries, like which daycare to choose or public school vs. homeschool - without wondering which is less likely to be bombed in the process.  Both praying for peace.

So, this week, although I have some gems in the bank, I'm going to save the funny and spend my time being thankful for never knowing war on Canadian soil in my lifetime, and pray it continues in Zuul's lifetime.  I'm going to snuggle her a little closer, and be happy she's crying because she can't reach a toy or her gums ache, not because the sirens and explosions are scaring her.  But most of all, despite being theologically cynical, I'm going to pray for peace and for the safety of Yael and her angels, and all the babies in Gaza and Israel that are innocent to all this garbage.

Sunday Confessional

Zuul finally turned front to back… And will probably never try it again. She banged her head.  Hard.

And where was the parental supervision? Why, I was sitting right next to her the whole time…

Reading The Bloggess.

Thunderdome, Chapter Two

I was mommyjacked at a baby singalong story time.

I know you are all wondering how a mother can be mommyjacked by another mother. That's meta, right?

We were asked at the end of the class to discuss with a neighbor how we juggle exercise and a baby.

So I started talking about Subversive Dog, who's an 80 lb handful who must be walked twice a day, every day, for about an hour each walk. And, by walk, mean power walk while wearing or pushing a 15 lb baby. Excellent cardio with resistance until we run into a squirrel. Then it's an X-Game.

The lady I erroneously decided to engage with said "Please. I have a 4 year old and an 18 month old. THAT's a handful." Repeatedly.

I think her children broke her brain. I was genuinely concerned and debated finding stroke information. We were in a library, after all.

Oh, sure, I could have gone into how German Shepherds have the intelligence of a two year old child. That would mean that I'm juggling an infant and a toddler, which should trump a preschooler that she lost somewhere in the library anyway, but I really didn't want to worsen her condition.

Never thought I'd be mommyjacked once I became a mom, but I guess I have to become a Dugger to ever be able to trump anyone at this game. DO NOT WANT.

And, sadly, this will most likely be my final chapter in the Thunderdome saga. We have decided to uproot and move to Vancouver Island. So, until I find other parent/infant playgroups to feed the blog beast, this entertaining segment of my life is now at an end.

I can only dream of what crazy will come my way in the land of the newly wed and the nearly dead. I'm sure I won't be at a loss for future material.

Sunday Confessionals

As advertised, I'm on Tumblr too. On Tumblr, I started these Sunday Confessionals and, because I fail as a blogger, I never cross-posted here on Blogger. So let me get you guys caught up.

#1. Sunday Confessional

I still wear maternity jeans for no reason other than they are sooooooo comfortable.

#2. Sunday Confessional

Zuul gets to watch cartoons every morning. It’s that or I don’t get breakfast.

#3. Sunday Confessional

I’m a very honest person. I scoop my dog’s poop, never jaywalk, bide by “walk left stand right” on escalators, hold doors for pretty much anyone. A regular Dudley Doright.

Somehow, my “mommybrain” has turned me into a kleptomaniac. In the past two weeks I’ve walked out of a store with teething pads I meant to pay for, almost made it all the way home with a shopping cart and waltzed right onto a bus without paying my fare.

I’m so ashamed, so I’ve made it a new rule that I’m not to go shopping alone if Zuul’s given me a rough night.

#4. Sunday Confessional

All I got from reading the breastfeeding diet is the “you need more calories.” bit.

Challenge accepted.

#5. Sunday Confessional

I’ve caught myself using dog commands with Zuul. Mainly “Drop it.”.

I kid you not, she listens.


And there you have them. We're all caught up now.

See you next Sunday for Subversive Mom mass.

Issues with Being Schrodinger’s Family

I’m in the process of scrambling to get an appointment for Zuul’s 6 month immunizations plus both our flu shots. Juggling this blog while on hold at various health offices.

So far, the only available date at our Public Health unit is November 23rd. Normally, no big deal, but we’re kind of Schrodinger’s Family right now as we may or may not be moving to Vancouver Island around then. I know, right! Big news. I’ve been trying not to talk about all this until we have a firm decision, but I’m about ready to burst out of my skin already by not talking about it.

Normaly, I would already have an appointment. Would have booked it when she had her 4 month shots. Probably would be getting all juiced up today as Zuul just turned 6 months yesterday. However, I did something I normally never do. I listened to people. Friends, strangers on the internet, etc. and decided to spend time researching the benefits of spreading out her vaccinations vs. getting them all at once, looking into the ingredients, blah, blah, blah. Because I’m the queen of lazytown, I decided to do things in reverse and get her well baby check up first and ask our doctor’s advice instead of doing the work myself.

Our doctor. We are not fans, but it’s been impossible to find a pediatrician who’s taking new clients close to home. I guess that means we have Schrodinger’s Physician now too, as I may or may not be going through the torture of finding a family doctor all over again. But, I guess this might be our only option. Zuul took one look at her yesterday when we saw her and freaked out. She never does that with anyone else, so ask me how much I’m looking forward to this.

And, sure enough, I was able to get them to vaccinate both of us next week. 15 minutes on hold though.

I really hope if we do, or do not, move that there will be better health service available for us soon.

Spoiler Alert

Happy Halloween!

How Do You Make God Laugh?

When I was pregnant, I decided I was going to use my maternity leave to get fit.

REALITY: My workouts consist of walking the dog, pushing a stroller and lots of reps of lifting a 14+ pound weight that is my daughter. I'm sure my cardio will increase once she's crawling and walking. I'm counting on that.

I was going to cook fresh, wholesome, organic food from scratch.

REALITY: Well, I have frozen fish & chips in the oven right now. Last night, frozen meat pies, the night before, Subway. Lather, rinse, repeat. Our pizza delivery guy's name is Assim.

I was going to dedicate one day a week to dress sexy for Subversive Dad.

REALITY: I hope he finds yoga pants, spit up stained nursing tops and hairy legs sexy, because that's as good as it's going to get for a while.

I was going to volunteer for various community services while wearing Zuul.

REALITY: Apparently, pouring hot soup while baby wearing is pretty dangerous and frowned upon heavily. And it's really hard to mentor youth when you can't hear each other speak over screaming infant. Not like I can say anything deep and inspirational with three hours sleep anyway, so it's just as well.

I was going to pad the income by starting a pet sitting business.

REALITY: It's scary enough to walk my own dog when I have the baby, as she has moments of losing her fucking mind with excitement if she spots a friend. As for my cat, she's completely given up on me for pretty much anything and is now 100% daddy's cat. Taking care of other peoples pets is no longer feasible.

With the extra income I would have made pet sitting, I was going to redecorate my home repurposing and upcycling second hand furniture.

REALITY: I'm lucky if Zuul lets me do a load of laundry most days. Redecorating? FFFFUUUUU NATE BURKUS!!!

The Breastmilk Militia is Coming for YOU!

A friend of mine sent me a text from school to tell me about a poster she saw that said,

"Breastfeeding is the Responsible Choice"

That's right. RESPONSIBLE!!! Strong word.

I actually envision the poster to be more like this.

Full disclosure; I breastfeed. I love breastfeeding. Zuul loves breastfeeding. Subversive Dad loves that it costs nothing to feed our child right now. And, believe it or not, I do advocate breastfeeding.  Breastfeeding is hard, yo, but, once one gets the hang of it and if all goes well, it's the shiznit.

But somethings been really, really bothering me about the campaign for breastfeeding. It's pretty militant. You are either for or against. There is no middle ground and, FSM forbid you have supply problems --- because breastfeeding is a RESPONSIBILITY!!! Correct me if I'm wrong, I thought feeding the baby by any means necessary was the responsibility. Apparently, I'm wrong.

My brother could have died if fate didn't intervene. My Aunt, a nurse, was visiting from Mexico. She took one look at him and told my mom "this kid ain't right." Turned out he was one of the very odd babies that are allergic to breast milk and had to take formula. Yes. Evil formula. How irresponsible of our mother. She should have let him starve.

I brought this neat little anecdote up in breastfeeding class and I swear the nurse conducting the seminar was going to run over and slap me for even bringing that up. She had to admit this does happen, ALTHOUGH RARE, but breast is best, breast is best, breast is best. Lets not talk about the warning signs that might indicate baby's reacting badly to mom's milk. That would ruin everything. It must! It must! It must come from the bust!

Then I had Zuul and my boobs just weren't keeping up to her demands. Turns out moms that have c-sections are slow to produce. I might have known that if I read up more on c-sections, but I was bent on not having one. Well, shit happened (literally) and I had an emergency one. That topped with an inability to sleep or stomach hospital food tapped me out. But lord knows I tried. I was beyond exhausted and my nipples were raw, but Zuul was losing weight and becoming jaundiced. The hospital lactation consultant forced the nurses to move me into a private room for proper rest and my ob/gyn said "breast is best, but there is nothing wrong with topping off with a little formula until your supply comes in." But the nurses that did not hear that conversation were sure quick to make me feel shitty for asking for formula. They made me feel like a failure and a nuisance. Excuse me if the well being of my child trumps the La Leche demands. My milk finally came in full tilt about 4 days after I got home and Zuul hasn't had a sip of formula since, but I do not regret my decision to top up and I always have a back up container, just in case.

We are blessed here in Canada with universal medicare. BC's comes with the perk of public health offices and a nurse at my beacon call 24/7. They do have signs posted around the office stating that they advocate breastfeeding and do not provide promotional formula samples. Fair enough. I'm happy they've been there to answer our questions and coach all of us new moms in the area on the right way to do it all and make sure our babies are healthy. One of my neighbours had a bad experience with them though. See, she's paralysed from the chest down. She also really wanted to breastfeed, but was unable to produce at all. Broken hearted, she had to switch to formula. Baby's gotta eat! She called our public health office to find out exactly how much formula she should be feeding her little one. A simple question worthy of a simple answer, right? The answer she got? "I'm sorry, we don't advocate formula feeding so we cannot provide you with that information." She explained her predicament and they still wouldn't budge from their stance. I raged for her when she told me her story. That tale and some really stupid misinformation I got about infants and swimming lessons, I'm done with them for anything outside vaccinations and weighing.

Advocate breastfeeding. Support mothers who do nurse anywhere they choose, with or without a shawl for privacy. Baby's gotta eat and it is a beautiful thing. But if we want to campaign breastfeeding as a positive, we have to stop being dictators about it. It's still a choice and, for many, it's not a choice. Just like it's nobodies business where you breastfeed your child or for how long you do it, it's none of your business if somebody formula feeds. It's time everybody started showing a little compassion and empathy and stop being such judgemental jerks on the subject. Making sure our children are fed, clothed, sheltered and loved is responsibility enough.

Three Cheers for Striking Mom? Discuss!

Fellow Canuckistani blogger, Striking Momis all over tv today for documenting what happens when a neat freak mom loses it and goes on strike, making the entire household live in filth to prove a nasty point. That's right. She purposely fucked her habitat and invited the world to see in an effort to shame her kids into cleaning... and it worked.

I was a terrible slob as a kid. A procrastinator, I have slob moments still. The best my mom did to try and get me to clean my room was muppet flail and tell me she saw a snake in there. One of her best performances, but an epic fail as I actually like snakes. All that motivated me to do was build a terrarium and move a few things around in hopes to find my new slithery friend. She could have paid better attention to my phobias and told me she saw spiders in there instead, but chances are I would have either moved out or committed arson rather than clean. Of course, this was before the internet. Zuul only being 5 months old, the verdict is out on how I'll handle her if the fruit flies don't fly far from the tree.

So, two questions.

1) Do you agree with publicly shaming your children?

and

2) How do you motivate your kids to do their chores, or, if yours is still too wee for chores like mine, best memory of how your parents handled your teenage slobbiness?

And, to prove my love for all things reptilian, here's a pic of me and my old friend, Jade. If you look close enough, you can see the dust glued to the fan in the background.

Halftone Humiliation

What Nobody Tells You About Sleep Through the Night

Zuul's finally at that age that every new parent longs for.  She's starting to sleep through most of the night.

You would think this means everybody gets to sleep through the night, however...

A few hours later, you wake up for a different reason...

And you end up waking the baby because, if you don't, your breasts will explode.

Nobody wins.  

The end.

If only I had time...

And could sew...

Ucreate: T-shirt Baby Bib Tutorial:   I’m a sucker for upcycled t-shirt crafts…so I had to share this tutorial submission today with you by Better Life Bags …who is a guest ...

The thing about milestones....

September 27th, 2012: Zuul rolls over for the 1st time, back to front. I'm shouting from the rooftops excited. Proud momma is proud.

September 28th, 2012: Technique mastered. Zuul has to roll over within seconds of being laid down on her back every time. Problem is, she can't roll back and isn't one for tummy time. Seems like I'm running to her rescue often. Still, she's so proud.

September 29th, 2012: I'm so fucking over it.

Baby Sing & Learn Class aka THUNDERDOME, Chapter one

I'm going to just come right out and say it.  Mommy groups are my personal hell.

However, not wanting my daughter, we'll call her Zuul,  to be a pariah like her mother, I started to bring her to a baby singalong at my local library.  Plus, she'll be talking sooner rather than later, so I probably should stop singing and dancing along to the Teaches of Peaches before the complaints from other parents come in.

What I didn't know was they dedicate a portion of the class to mommy chit chat.  O_o

As I approach the group, I immediately hear chanting in my head, "Two moms enter, one mom leaves!".
They're all in a circle, talking amongst themselves until I get there then, boom, silence and stare downs.  I felt like turning around and running back home, but I wasn't there for me.

The mom who sits  next to me has a 4 month old too.  As soon as we learnt they were the same age she started listing off all the things her baby could already do.  I guess I just don't get excited about anyone's baby, not even my own, sucking her bottom lip, however, she was acting like her baby just composed his first aria.   At this point I realise she's not just making casual conversation, she's making comparisons.  Ugh.

Judgy McJudgypants asks how nap times are going.  I say "Naps are for suckers, right Zuul?".  The look of shock was amusing, so I  explain how she's refusing to nap the last couple of days.  She responds, "Poor mom.  Mine goes down every two hours."   "Oh really?"  I say, feigning interest.  "Yeah, the first couple of days he'd scream for 20 minutes, but now he just babbles to himself until he sleeps."  "Oh," I replied. "I still rock Zuul to sleep. "  She was horrified.  "My sister's a nurse.  She said don't even start with that.  Worst thing you can do."

Now, I hate all this judgement and pressure women put on each other, however, at this point, I am disengaging with her because she just implied I'm harming my child. Because being hugged too much was listed the number one reason why Jeffrey Dahmer started eating people, I'm sure.

Not only that, but worse.  I too sucked into this judgemental vortex.  I'm thinking to myself that her sister is a terribly mean nurse.  This circle of hate has got to end!

Luckily, Zuul's shoes captured the attention the baby on the other side of us.  Finally, someone I can relate to!  Sure, she's 10 months old, but shoes!  Fuck yeah!  The light at the end of a boring tunnel.  I believe the children are our future and my bet is on shoe fetish girl.  I hope her and Zuul become BFF's, cause lord knows mommy's not making any new ones.

Introductions: a social conformity

Hi!  Welcome to my blog.  Please excuse me.  This is my first blog and, in my head, I thought this would be the place to share my unique observations and witticisms as a new mother.  However, here I am, staring at a screen, with everything that I thought about yesterday, when I came up with this brilliant scheme, tossed out the window of my mind.  If you call it mommy brain though, I will cut a bitch.

I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to offend.  Let me explain by way of introduction.  I'm not normal.  I'm not a normal mom, woman, human being.  In my opinion, "normal" is just a setting on a washing machine.  What makes me so unusual?  Apparently it's because I haven't been buying into all the neuvo parenting pressures, I mean "trends" and this seems to shock a lot of people.

Oh, sure, I sort of know about these ideologies.  This knowledge was kind of forced upon me though throughout my pregnancy with all these questions from all directions asking what my plans were.  Was I going to have a hospital birth, a home birth, a doctor, a midwife, a doula, a voodoo priestess.  Was I planning on attachment parenting, free range parenting, cosleeping, cry it out, no cry, breastfeeding, formula feeding, cloth or disposable diapering, or maybe I should just sell the baby to the highest bidder on eBay.  Because becoming a new parent isn't overwhelming enough.  It was information overkill and, eventually, I decided to just say screw it and follow my instincts like the human race has been doing quite well for a very long time.
  
And, here I am, 4 plus months into being a mom and the baby hasn't been taken away from me yet, so I guess I'm doing ok.  Oh, I'm sure some of you will read my anecdotes and categorize me as this, that or other type of parent and that's fine.  However, I just want to enjoy this phase of my life as much as possible without subscribing to any labels or pressures.  Is that so bad?  Well, from the looks of shock I get from other moms, apparently it is --- or it's just weird that I'm not a parental conformist.

Any way, I'm just here for the show.  Not to preach, not to give advice, not to pimp any products.  Just to laugh, cry and show you my WTF face.  So grab your popcorn and enjoy!