Goodbye, frumpy mom.

I have decided:

- I am done with looking the part of broke new stay at home mom. I will be typecast no more.

- I am mostly saying this because, as strong as I think I am, my scalp is my Achilles Heel. I love my baby girl, and would not hurt her ever, but every time she pulls my hair I want to pull hers back. The thought is there. Pain makes me go to dark, sinister places, I guess. Places I have not been since kindergarden. There can be only one solution --- pixie cut.

Tomorrow, I will be dying my hair (or attempting to) a fun bright purple. This weekend, over 10 years of long hair is getting lopped off.

This may also inspire a domino effect of wearing make up again, doing my nails and maybe even working out.

Or, I will be forever regretful and still look a disaster and Zuul, Subversive Dad, dog, cat and society as a whole, will all reject me. I could become The Phantom of Vancouver Island, living in the notorious pentagram shaped tunnels that run under Victoria, playing haunting songs on Zuul's Elmo keyboard I will take with me.

Regardless of the outcome, the mom hair is coming.

Subversive Parent Double Standards

My 'one good thing today': Grandpa had time to watch Zuul while I had a little shop therapy.

We're presently living near a high school. Walking home from my baby escape, I noticed a sign posted on a telephone pole.

"Don't like homework? I DO!!!"

Then the details to get homework done for a cost.

Now, Zuul is no where near school age, so I have a while to worry about such shenanigans. But, I had to ask myself, if I busted her paying someone to do her homework, would I be upset? Yup! Grounded 'til grad. Big life lessons regarding cheating and responsibility.

But if she were the one who offered to exchange homework for money? The responsible parent in me would, of course, reprimand. I have to admit, though, I'd be a bit proud of her entrepreneurial spirit and that she actually likes homework. Certainly not a trait she'll be inheriting from me. I would probably even start asking her for financial and career advice.

I've seen a lot of things, man.

The 80's original Nightmare on Elm Street's;

Three out of four Paranormal Activity's left me with such a bad case of heebie jeebies that I freak the hell out if anyone stares at me for too long (ok, that might be social anxiety at play, but creepy movies are creepy);

I've also survived a few real life holy shit moments, standard crap really - big wildlife close calls, near car accidents, venomous insects, even a sketchy gun situation.

But nothing, NOTHING has had me more on edge than watching my baby attempt to go from a seated position to her belly on her own near hard objects.

I am psychologically unprepared for a mover.  It's coming.  She is diving from seat to belly now and pushing herself backwards, and gets pretty far that way too.  I know I should celebrate this milestone, but, really all I can think is floors, walls, toys...

BUBBLEWRAP ALL THE THINGS!!!!

Meanwhile, I'm off to Costco to buy antacid and whiskey by the crate.

Sunday Confessional

We were with our nephews this weekend -- ages four and two.  They love to play rough with Subversive Dad.  This evening's game he was a tiger.

The four year old hollers "Subversive Aunty!  Subversive Uncle's trying to eat me!!!" in which I damn near replied, "Yup, he tries to eat me too."

I guess I must be finally gaining my mommy filters. Don't know if I should be proud or sad.

About a dog.

As a geeky fan girl of author Neil Gaiman, I've been heartbroken for him and his family upon learning about the death of his dog, Cabal. Like Mr. Gaiman, I too have a big white dog that looks an awful lot like Cabal, so, yes, I may be projecting a wee bit. However, I do feel like I know this dog because, well, I'm a fan girl who follows all Neil Gaiman's blogs and has collected many of his books since I was 17. Cabal has been read about often and, like many of his characters, has found a place in my fan girl heart.

I'm not ashamed to say that I love my dog like I gave birth to her myself (although I'm glad I didn't. She's from a litter of twelve and her mom's belly was a saggy mess like that Kate Plus 8 chick pre-surgery. Do not ever want.). Unlike Neil Gaiman, my dog didn't teach me how to love (I owe a Prairie Dog that credit), she did teach me how to be a parent. If it wasn't for SubversiveDog, there wouldn't be a Zuul. Calm down, National Enquirer. Of course, Subversive Dad played a major part, and Zuul is not part canine, but it wasn't him that convinced me it was time to become a mom, it was Ghost (not Subversive Dog's real name).

"Ghost" and I the day we brought her home.

We brought Ghost home when she was 10 weeks old. We knew we wanted a German Shepherd, and fully intended to rescue one from a shelter (which I strongly advocate, despite). However, researching the breed, Subversive Dad learnt about White German Shepherds and told me about them. "Wouldn't that be cool?", he asked. "Duuuuuuude." was probably my answer, which is West Coast Geek Girl for "Hell yeah!". The next day at work was a slow one, so I google "White German Shepherd" and fate intervened. A breeder not too far outside town had a litter about ready to go to new homes. We're responsible, made sure this wasn't some shady puppy mill, met the litter and the breeder twice and came home with Ghost. The breeder cried. Puppy mill owners don't cry when a pup leaves, unless it's tears of joy when counting their wad of I'll gotten cash. I'm a good judge of character and this was a woman that let herself get attached, and who could blame her.

Puppyhood, like infancy, is overwhelming. We had our share of sleepless nights, of health scares, of boo boos and behavioural challenges (some we're still working through.). My life forever changed as, like any new parent, my mornings were for the dog, then I'd rush home to spend my evening with the dog and my weekends were also devoted to the dog and quite happily, I might add. Our vacations include Ghost. I protect her and she protects me. And while I know our time with her will be brief, as it is with most any pet, save a tortoise or a parrot, we don't talk about that. It's been decided that 'that' can't happen, as unrealistic as we may be. I have been refusing to see Ghost as mortal as the reality is unbearable.

Then it dawned on me. Subversive Dad and I are great pet parents. We would be great people parents too. I was quite content living my child free by choice lifestyle, but Ghost filled a void I didn't know I had, and she opened my eyes to the fact that there was another void that needed attention, and quickly, seeing I was in my late 30's. It was time for Ghost to become a big sister, Subversive Dad agreed, and Zuul entered our life the very next year.

"Ghost" babysitting "Zuul".

Today, I'm contending with the same challenges most new parents with dogs have and that is I'm filled with guilt that I just don't have the time I used to have for Ghost as Zuul takes up most of it. I wonder how other parents juggle older children and a baby because I'm finding it incredibly difficult giving myself to my baby, my partner and my fur children. So that's probably why Neil Gaiman's painful account of not being able to be there for Cabal at the end is hitting me so hard in the feels.

So, Ghost is getting some extra snuggles, as I try and make up for 8 months of mediocrity. She's still my dog, my sidekick, my bff, my heart, my hero and my pride, even though I have been a little distracted lately with a new pack member and, dare I say, more easily frustrated with her anxious dog shenanigans. Despite her separation anxiety, her refusal to listen to me at times or to leave our cat alone, I love her so much and she is such an important part of who I am as a person and as a mother.

And, on the obscure to nil chance that Mr.Gaiman and his family were to read my internet unfamous blog, I know there are no words of condolence anyone can say right now, especial random strangers. I Just want to thank you for sharing Cabal's life with all of us. He certainly was one of the best and I feel lucky to have known him through your words and pictures.

"Ghost" and I, on vacation in Pacific Rim Park.

Sunday Confessional

90% of my blog posts are written while nursing - the long sessions that involve getting baby to sleep.

So, technically, I write my blog topless.

Boom chicka wow wow.

Wait. No.

One good thing about today

I unfriended someone on Facebook today. I know that sounds like a bad thing, but let me assure you, it was a very good thing.

I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. I will say something if somebody is an asshole in any way, shape or form, but my hope is that it becomes a teachable moment. It's been my experience that the person being an asshole usually has asshole influences in his/her past and they have an a-ha moment. Most of the time redemption is made, and the world is all rainbows and sunshine again.

The day I friended my old high school acquaintance on Facebook, I was actually excited. We had one of those epic teenage tales together that I still love to reminisce about. We also were both bullied and had a rough childhood. I know he floated around the foster system which isn't easy. He's also a proud gay man, which explains why he was bullied in our suburban high school. So, knowing that, I gave him lots of chances. My acquaintance, however, turned out to become quite the racist.

While I've butted heads with him before. I hoped, if anything, a reminder of how hurtful he was being by comparing racist comments to homophobic slurs that something may have absorbed. I made excuses for him (see above) and gave him another chance.

Today his status update was along the lines of "nothing ruins a meal faster than when someone at the table next to you decides to cut their child's nails while you're eating. No surprise that they were 'ethnic'.

Now, by the time I saw the update, someone else commented that there really was no need to add the 'ethnic' bit. People of all shades, from all cultures, of all classes and all sexual orientations are disgusting and thoughtless at times was one of the points made. His response was that he believed he was being polite enough by not mentioning which ethnicity they where.

Well, with that "justification" I was done. My response, "this is about the 3rd or 4th time I've given your comments the side eye. This ethnic person has had enough. Adios, cabron!". And I clicked unfriend. And when the box popped up that asked if I was sure I meant to unfriend him, I did not hesitate to click YES.

It would have been easy to just unfriend, but when it comes to bigotry of any kind, things need to be said. In this day and age it's inexcusable to allow this bullshit to slide. With that said, actions do speak louder than words, and sometimes quickly distancing yourself from people like this is good enough. I know I don't want to be demonized by simple association, especially if blogging makes me Internet famous someday.

So, I am proud of myself for taking a stand in my own way. This is the kind of mother I want to be. Lead by example, etc.

This is my good thing of the day.

In which we welcome 2013

Ah yes. Another January 1st has come and gone. However, this year, instead of nursing a hangover somewhere in the Greater Vancouver area, I'm nursing a 7 1/2 month old, a cough (me and Zuul's second virus in less than 3 weeks. Don't get me started.) and doing both from my in-law's basement somewhere in the Greater Victoria area. Subversive Dad is gearing up for his first day at work at his new job. Needless to say, 2012 was a very big year in the Subversive Family household.

Being a relatively sluggish day that January 1st is for many, I had the opportunity to read through some of my social networking forums. Catching up with strangers on the Internet I've become so fond of over the years. Reviewing some of the obligatory New Years Resolution threads, I came across one post where someone said her resolution is to write down one nice thing a day about her day, even if she had a really shitty one.

Interesting.

I'm not one for resolutions, but I am a Carpe Diem type and, when I like something I hear, I like to give it a try without the pressure of labeling it anything. The move to Victoria has been more challenging for me, mentally, than I thought it would be, so I think this is something I need to adopt in order to stop scrutinizing the negative and so forth. I need reminders now, more than ever, about the good reasons I committed to such a huge change for my little family. (Although, would it kill people to say 'oh I'm sick, so let's wish each other and our babies holiday greetings from a distance' around here? Sick, twice, in three weeks!! Ok, I'm done.)

So, to get things rolling, today's good observation is that Zuul handles being sick like a champ. She's not extra whiny or needy. She still smiles after every cough and sneeze. She still only cries for the usual reasons, wet/dirty diaper, tired or had a tumble. I am lucky to have an easy baby.

Happy New Year, everyone.