Bidding adieu to 2011

There's my little guy crawling to the future.

I can't believe that I'll be going back to work in a couple of months. It's time though. He's doing well [touch wood] and well on his way to becoming his own little person. Although his birth was quite the ordeal, he was, and continues to be, my joy this year. Not that a kid doesn't bring stress - whoever gets pregs with the idea that it will bring her closer to her partner is fucking mental - but TM and I wouldn't trade him for the world.

Meanwhile, our condo issues are slowly getting sorted and our little zoo is all settled in. Surprisingly it is the Fur Snake that is the most tolerant of the baby. The dog is seriously jealous and growls if he gets too near. Unless the baby is eating... then the dog is his bestest friend ever. My other cat just stays away.

I have been exhausted this year and for the past three years have neglected all my friends. I will need to start to rectify that this year. In fact, I think that will be my resolution. I don't think I'm going to get serious about my waistline until I'm back at work. I carbed out yesterday.

Hugs to all and wishing everyone all the best for the year ahead.

Body image

Ah yes, the photo above seems to show what everyone believes women see when they look in the mirror. That seems to 1980s to me though as nowadays I think that many people have my issue - I've gained weight but still see the 'thin' me when I look in the mirror. Really. So reverse the above pic and you have more the Snooze perception.

Rationally I know I've gained weight and no, I'm not doing much to lose it. I have a two kilometre route every morning which I take to get my espresso and take the dog to the park for socialization with the other little doggies, and yes, I don't load up on junk food or fried food, but it's not like I'm keeping a food diary or doing enough cardio/weight training. Yet, I still think of myself as a thin person. And somehow I think that everyone else sees me as a thin person too. Because I was thin. Never skinny, and never following some weird diet. I was just active and paid attention to what I ate. And then I didn't. And I gained. And gained. I eventually stopped the increase, but I've never gotten back to what would be a healthier and more flattering size for me.

I'm not completely delusional. Unlike some of the people I see wandering the streets of Toronto* I do understand that stretch pants are a privilege, not a right, and that even if I could still squeeze into the bikini I had in high school, there is no need to ever appear in public in it. *here I'm referring to people who really should have some idea of what flatters them - not the city's marginalized people who are too busy worrying about where to get their next fix/meal to care what the rest of us think of their 'ensemble'

However, it's when I see photos from events that I am caught reeling by how much larger I am in reality.  We went to a wedding over the summer and I tried to get together a decent outfit. By the end I thought that I looked quite good. Not amazing, but good. Then we saw photos from the event... I felt like "Who attached that large leg to my shoulder?" Seriously, I couldn't believe that was my arm. Not to mention that the pearl choker I had added served only to completely hide my neck and morph my face into some completely round doughy thing (and add to that a greasy sheen all over it). I was suddenly in the biggest funk of ages.

Of course I later noticed that even my so-not-overweight sister-in-law looked a little chunky in some of the photos so I realized a lot had to do with what a I wore and my pose in the photos but sheesh, again, I am just surprised sometimes when I realize that I actually am overweight and am no longer a thin person. To clarify, I'm not obese and I also don't consider that extra weight is unattractive or anything like that, just that the photo above made me think that many of us are delusional in the reverse. My favourite is when people tell me not to worry because "you just had a baby". ???? Okay, first of all I had a 2-pound baby 10 months ago, and secondly, I am *below* my pre-pregnancy weight. And to clarify, these people are not being assholes. I laugh my ass off everytime I get a comment like that and think, "holy crap, I look like I just gave birth? WTF?"

I think that I either need to up my exercise routine and pay more attention to my diet, or just face facts that I am never going to be a thin girl again.


[and again, I feel obliged to clarify that the weight I would like to be is still 20 pounds over my high school perfectly-fine weight in case people think I'm unrealistic or going all anorexic]

Blogging block

I have not been blogging in a while. Part of it is the baby, and part of it is that so many people have stopped blogging now. I miss the days when there were so many bloggers. Facebook/Twitter are not the same. On FB I know all the people and the updates are so brief. It's great for remembering birthdays, but otherwise all it does is suck up my time on superficial updates.

Anyhow, back to blogging and the main reason that I haven't had the heart to write anything. A while back I went through my blogger list. I would check and see when the last post of a blog had been and if it had been a year or so before, I deleted the blog from my list.  Unfortunately there were many of those. There was one, my all-time favourite writer, who hadn't updated since the spring. I remember quickly reading his posts on my blog feed back in the spring but as it was right around the time that my son got out of hospital, I wasn't commenting. Anyhow, I missed his writing. He was, and is, the best writer I've ever read outside of a literature course. Many of us blog, some of us are excellent at building community, but this guy - this guy could write like no one else.

He was one of the few bloggers who I had ended up linking up with on Facebook so I went on there to see what he was up to. I planned to email him and say something like, "get off your lazy ass and post again." When I looked him up on FB, lo and behold, it was his birthday. I was going to join in all the birthday wishes until I noticed that several of them were saying such things as, "Hope you are partying with Saint Peter".  I almost threw up. My favourite blogger wasn't taking a break, he wasn't off doing exciting things... he had died unexpectedly. Probably just a couple of days after that last post I had read.

I have since reached out to his brother. I told him about the blog his brother had kept. Yet I felt so sick about blogging for so long. Sort of as if anything I tried to write or express was irrelevant. I still feel that way but I'm going to go on blogging and writing as a salute to my friend, who I only knew by his phenomenal command of the written word. Be well my friend.

*No one else who I know through blogging followed or linked to him so I have not linked his blog here. I'm explaining my head space - not trying to be overly dramatic and I want to respect his privacy, even if it doesn't really matter now

And the moving hell continues...

I had a different post planned - all about my negative body image (oh yes, bet you're sorry I didn't go into that typical female rant...), but right now I'm waiting for the floor guys to come and replace our bedroom floor. Before we moved in, there was a leak in one of our bedroom windows and the whole floor was ruined. But the replacement never happened and eventually we bought IKEA wardrobes in order to keep the clothes chaos to a minimum. And yet we kept waiting and waiting and waiting for our floor.

Yesterday apparently the dudes came by to replace the floor. That would have been fine if we'd been given any notice, but we hadn't been. I was out with the dog and the baby when they were here. TM was at work. Of course floor dudes can't do a thing because our bedroom is filled with furniture and clothes. As in, our bedroom is a bedroom. The result is that the flooring dudes arrange to come back the next day (as in today) to do the floor. They were set to arrive at 8am. All this meant was a hellish time of emptying our closets when really our place is so small that there's nowhere to put stuff. The nursery is piled high with crap, the bathtub is filled with duvets and other bedding... you get the idea.

As it was POURING at 6am today, this also meant that I couldn't take the dog/baby for their regular walk today (Normally I leave at seven or seven-thirty, but I had to be back for the workers). The dog got a quick pee when the rain stopped and then I came back upstairs and waited, which I am still doing. My worry is that the work won't get done today in which case we will continue to live in this utter chaos and I will have to cancel a dinner party for colleagues I was planning to host tomorrow. In the grand scheme of things these are not huge problems, but honestly, I'm getting extremely worn down by the constant moving/shifting/rearranging.

And during the course of this blog post I got a text from the building manager so everyone should be here in half an hour. Now I'll just see how I manage with the baby while floor chaos and dust ensues. Sigh. At least it's sunny now. I can sit on the balcony if need be.

Trapped

Having a baby who is pretty easy-going is not too bad (I mean, it's a joy and all, I'm referring to the work part here). But moving? Hell. Hell, hell, hell. We have been in our new place for over a month now, but we still have too much stuff and contractors are still in and out finishing/fixing stuff. I'm slowly going mad and feeling trapped. Now that it's cooling down a bit though, I'm going to start doing one fun activity a day. I do get out each day for a medium walk to the coffee shop and then dog park, but I need more time just hanging out with the little guy. Doing laundry does not count.

When we were staying at my parents' condo I was having a frustrated new mother day and went to the nearby coffee shop to get an espresso. I was sitting there sipping my espresso and looking exhaustedly at the stroller which contained my adorable and FINALLY asleep baby and a woman came up and stared chatting to me and ooh-ing over the little guy. It turned out that she had four kids of her own, the youngest of whom is now ten. Anyhow, she made my day and over the next few mornings when I saw her as we both grabbed coffee, she told me the most hilarious (to me at least) argument moment. When she and her husband are bickering, she calmly says "Focus, honey. Focus". It calms her husband right down but what it stands for is "Fuck Off 'cuz ur stupid". I had never heard it before and I almost died. I could never actually use it in an argument though because I would fall on the floor snickering.

Newest member of the tribe

This is a pic from Pride week-end. We didn't stay long as the noise and crowds aren't ideal for a baby.

Our little family only got keys to our new condo yesterday. Now the unpacking begins! We've been staying with family which is truly great, but we just want to be in our own place. This whole past month has been like being on hold and my world has shrunk down to me and the baby (and a bit of TM too of course). I guess that's what your hormones due to ensure survival of the race but honestly, I need to start reconnecting with the world. Not that I haven't had a social life, but I'm moving in slow mo. Then again, when you are up two or three times a night it kind of saps your daytime energy.

My learning of this month: I don't know what I thought prior to breast feeding... I think I thought that the breast milk came out in a stream from the centre of the nipple, much like a fire hose. I thought that all the milk ducts fed into one stream. In fact the exit for milk is all over the nipple from the various milk ducts and I've learned that if my son comes of too soon, my milk spurts out in a fine shower from several directions. Think of a leaky garden hose. This has been amusing the hell out of me.

Nap time

So proud of my little guy

When I look at the first pictures of my son, I'm amazed that I have a chubby little guy at home now. So grateful to his medical team and that he's a fighter!

What makes a boy?

What is with children's toy and clothing branding today? I was ranting on Facebook how one outfit that my son has is not only blue, but the manufacturers had to go and print "BOY" on the front of it. WTF? Were they worried that some parent might go and - God forbid - buy that blue outfit for a female baby? Were they worried that despite a parent going with the 'boys in blue' code that some person might mistakenly say, "Oh what a cute girl"? Because geez, that would be traumatic. I live in fear of someone referring to my 7-pound baby as a girl. He might grow up scarred for life!

Seriously, I just don't get it. TM wears pink all the time. He is clearly male. Also, who cares what gender a baby is called? They have no clue about what gender they are so why should adults get all upset about it.

It also bothers me that the labelling of baby clothes is part of the ongoing denigration of the female. I wear blue all the time and if a parent put a little girl in a 'male outfit' [I'll leave that to you to decide what that might embody], most people nowadays wouldn't be very fussed. But put a male baby in a little frilly dress and people would think you were weird or trying to make a point. Such conditioning. Even I was going to buy Finn a pink dress but felt that it wouldn't be quite right. I think in some ways that I should do that just to try and fight against stereotypes.

I have a number of friends who said things to me like, "I offered my son both dolls and trucks and he just chose to play with the trucks. Boys and girls really are different." Please. Gender stereotyping is entrenched long, long before the doll/truck issue comes up. I only have to talk to my sister to realize this as well. Now fair enough, in her case she was transgendered and wanting to be a woman is different than just wearing pink. However, she clearly saw how streamlined boys and girls are into categories of what they should/shouldn't do.

There is some progress though. I told all the nurses in the hospital that my son was gay [usually when we were all joking about what babies in the nursery could start dating and they would talk about a little girl and I would ask them to instead select the cutest boy as my son's partner]. Now, I really do hope that my son is gay although obviously I'll accept him if he's straight, but the nurses were also fine with that idea too. Probably twenty years ago they would have seen me as an unfit mother.

One final note as this post is all over the place - high-end baby clothes are not as gender-identified. I have some clothes from the French store Jacadi and although the clothes are still largely blue/pink, they don't have overkill (like 'boy' or 'little engineer' vs. 'little princess' written on them) and could go for the most part on either sex. And that's just it, even though gender lines are more blurred than ever, baby clothes are not. Boys' clothes used to be have those cute little bloomer outfits but now they seem to be hyper masculine right from birth.

Marital ties

I already noted that when I thought I was on my deathbed, I panicked about family finding my home porn. Lesson learned, when we had to move out of our place in order to show it, I made sure that the toy box was well stashed. However, I did overlook my bondage book - Two Knotty Boys show you the Ropes. No problem, I shoved it in a bag and took it with me to my parents [not hard to see where this is going...]

When TM and I moved back to our condo, we were in a rush to get Little Poo and although we cleaned up, we left much of our stuff at my parents place, including, as I discovered on Easter Sunday, that damn book. After Easter dinner, I went into the spare bedroom and started to gather up what we had left behind. My mother had kindly organized it in one corner. That's right - my mother had organized everything. And there was the bondage book, propped up against a wall, behind our wedding album. Sigh.

Overall though, I have to confess that it wasn't much of a concern. If my parents can cope with one child being transgendered, they can certainly cope with one child being into rope play. Besides, I'm married and have a child now so I'm sure the book was shuffled into the category of "what a couple does is between them" as opposed to [had I still been single] - "no wonder my daughter isn't married. Men don't marry girls like that".

impatience won

When Finn failed the car test (or as I look at it - the car test failed Finn) I immediately lost all adult coping skills and cried my eyes out in the middle of the nursery. The nurse who had been looking after him that day was so kind and comforted me assuring that many babies passed on their second try. Then the doctor arrived and we went into a more private area so he could talk to me about the test results.

He assured me over and over that the test had nothing to do with Finn's ability to do well at home, but only that he couldn't stay in a car seat for a long time at this age. He then said that even babies who do well on the test shouldn't be left unattended in a car seat or be allowed to sleep in them for a long time.

I asked him point blank if I could take the baby home on the subway. He kind of alluded that that's what he would do and again, assured me that in every other way Finn was healthy enough to go home.

After a relaxing meal of pizza and prosecco, TM and I decided that regardless of the results of the second test the next day that we were taking our baby home. By car or by pram, I was having my baby out of the hospital where he was at higher risk of infection. And indeed, when my son miserably failed the car seat test for a second time, I bundled him up in his pram and walked the 45 minutes home. Of course I stopped at every single intersection to make sure he was still breathing, but we are now all a nice happy unit at home.

TM and I are thrilled and have worked out a system where we both get enough sleep, the dog is protective of the baby, the older cat keeps her distance, and psycho cat was stalking the bassinet but now is not interested once she saw the contents.

Gratitude and yet impatience

• After 9 weeks, my son was supposed to be released from hospital today but yesterday he 'failed' his car seat test. This was a test where they set my son in his car seat on a stand and monitored his oxygen levels. Long story, but the doctor assured me that this test had nothing to do with his actual health, my son is well, but that this controversial test will keep him in the hospital for another day. I cried my eyes out when I learned he couldn't go home on Wednesday. However, he should be released on Thursday. They are repeating the test today.

• I am unbelievably grateful though that my son is doing well and will be going home. I've met parents who have one healthy twin and another who is very ill or dying. I've met a single mom who due to some past addiction issues is having her baby apprehended by the state - she will get to see her baby, but has to jump through a few more hoops. Whether or not you have sympathy for her (and I do), it is still hell for anyone to not stay with their baby.

• I found out via email that my job is being transferred to a new government agency. Likely this means good-bye to many of my benefits, my pension, and the security of union status. Still, grateful to have a job at all in this economy. TM's job is commission-based so we really need my job. I'm still not sure what this transfer will do to my maternity leave. All I want to do is cry right now, but again, for now I have a job to return to.

• My health is back. I've started walking to the hospital in the morning. It's a brisk 45-minute walk. I'm frustrated with my weight and muscle tone, but I have to start somewhere. Besides, I'm back to my pre-pregnancy weight so this is just a reflection of work on my body that existed long before pregnancy.

• Half of my stuff is packed away in storage, including my waxing kit and make-up. I am a hairy, haggard beast right now. However. we packed and cleaned in order to make our condo appealing for the market. We also moved into my parents' for a week. It all worked though as our place sold in 4 days for pretty much what we were asking.

• Although I am not looking forward to moving again in three weeks, with half our stuff in storage it won't be as difficult a move, and I am looking forward to living in our new condo, and having a second bedroom for the baby. Our current place is not set up for a baby.

Marketing for lactation consultants

If I had had a full-term baby I would have tried to breast feed, but if it hadn't worked, I would have switched to formula. However, for my little preemie, breast milk is essential and thus I am giving it a heroic effort, including taking prescription meds to increase my milk flow. I'm certainly producing enough to feed my son right now, but as he gets bigger, I won't be able to keep up with his appetite, especially not when he comes home and there is no more feeding tube!

I'm not sure what I would have done with a full-term baby who needed mega-milk right away. I have talked with several friends who had faced that very issue. I have had six weeks now to work on my milk supply, but since my son started with needing 1ml of milk every two hours, it wasn't as stressful. We all dealt with lactation consultants. I didn't mind mine because I so wanted help to breastfeed and quite frankly, as my son isn't home with me, pumping is about the only thing I can do to take care of him.

On the other hand, my friends who were equally hormonal/sleep-deprived/trying to produce milk also had infants at home who needed to be bathed, changed, etc., around the clock. With not enough milk getting into their tummies, the infants would also cry more. As such, the mums I knew wanted a solution STAT and were ready to kill lactation consultations who basically told them that at all costs they must avoid formula feeding (both my friends immediately switched to bottle-feeding and their kids are fine).

It's well meant, but it's horrible all the pressure to breast feed. Yes, 'breast [may be] best', but by pushing breast feeding so much, so many women are meant to feel like bad mothers. OF COURSE we all want what's best for our babies. Which brings me to the decision that my friend and I came to - instead of guilting mothers into feeling like they are not focussing on their child, instead focus on the other aspect of breast feeding - it helps the mother lose weight and gives her big boobs.

OF COURSE I would do anything for Finn, first and foremost, but hey, let's face it, I'm ecstatic that I fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes but still need a larger bra (although my milk hasn't yet come in fully). It's a given that a child will still do fine on formula but the weight loss and boobage? Oh yeah, that's directly related to breast feeding. Now there's a motivation to pump.

Sadly any lactation consultation that tried that message would no doubt be fired for insensitivity about the mother's weight, etc., but personally, it's a huge motivator for me.

Last requests

Just before I went into surgery, I began to think that I might not survive. As such, I was telling my parents to look after TM and make sure he was provided for as I hadn't gotten around to changing my will. At one point after, I was alone with my sister and I had a request for her as well.

Me: If I don't make it...

Her: Oh god... don't say that.

Me: No but listen if I don't, I need you to do something for me.

Her: Anything.

Me: In my downstairs closet there is a box of books. In that box is my Bible.

Her: Okay...

Me: And in that Bible is hidden my home porn of me and my ex. Please destroy it. I don't want TM to find that. I just never got around to destroying it. I love TM so much.

Her: No problem. I'll take care of it.

Needless to say, I did survive and after all the trauma/drama was over and both my son and I were deemed safe, my sister admitted that she wondered where on earth I was going with the Bible bit. We are not a religious family at all so she was wondering, "Do we have a family Bible? What is this about?" We got a good laugh over my last request. Still, do others have plans for their porn/online personalites (including blogs) and sex toys?

Update

My son is doing well. He's now 2 and a half pounds, which oddly seems huge to me. He was also moved to a new hospital where they have a nursery which is a step down in medical care - this is good - it means he doesn't need as much supervision. He is doing well but still needs a CPAP to help his breathe which isn't unexpected for premature babies.

I am pumping away, hooked up like a heifer to an electric breast milk pump. I have to pump 8 times a day which works out to every three hours. I usually sleep at some point though for 5 hours straight and so have to make up pumping time. It's exhausting. Also, given that I have to shower with my arms crossed over my chest, I was dreading it. It's actually been okay although the pump they have at the new hospital makes me feel like my nipples are about to be sucked into a void. Sweet Mary - I sit there holding the cups to my chest trying not to scream and doubled over in pain and around me are women sitting calmly milking away. The pain goes away after a couple of minutes, but I don't get these other women. Also, I'm always near some woman who seems to produce enough milk for snack time at a kindergarten class whereas I produce about a cup of milk per day. That's enough for my son right now, but as he gets bigger I will need more. As such, I am on a prescription drug to increase milk flow. So far it is not doing too much.

Finally, we gave our son a name which has been in my family for centuries. In fact you can see the name on the tombstones in the town where my Mum comes from in Scotland. Much to my horror the short form - Finn - is shared by a character on Glee. I had no idea as I don't like the show and never followed it, and neither did TM. However, Finn is the trendy name of this year. There are bound to be five or six Finns in his class. Ah well, I still like the name.

And did I mention we're getting our place ready to sell? Yes, my life is a blur of pumping, packing, and visiting my son in hospital. But it's all good.

What I've been up to

Some of you know this via FB, but the reason I haven't been blogging in a while is because I did indeed develop pre-eclampsia (in fact *severe* pre-eclampsia - I'm nothing if not dramatic) and gave birth 10 weeks early.

The wonderful news is that TM and I have a beautiful little son. He has to stay in the NICU for the next few months, but he is doing well. I go each day to the hospital and visit with him. Because he is doing well and doesn't need oxygen, I get to hold him skin-to-skin for an hour each day. Right now he is less than two pounds and just lies against my chest, fast asleep. It's indescribably happy and peaceful for both of us.

To backtrack...

I noted a couple of posts back that I was worried about developing pre-eclampsia. I was ignoring how swollen my face started to get, which is one of the indicator signs, and was instead focussed on the fact that I wasn't getting headaches or other symptoms.

I was sitting at my desk on Tuesday, when one of my coworkers came by and told me that she was worried about me and that I didn't look well. She encouraged me to call my obstetrician right away. I had an appointment for that Thursday, but she kept insisting that I call right away.

I did end up doing that and was told to see my obstetrician right away. From there, they took my blood pressure (which was 179) and the next thing I knew I was being admitted to the hospital and pumped full of meds. The next two days were really rough. My body was breaking down, but we were trying to delay delivery in order for the steroids they had given me to give a protective effect to my baby's lungs. The medical team wanted 48 hours and with their help I managed to hold on that long.

My parents were still up north and due to a huge snowstorm, my siblings and I had to convince them not to rush down. However, I am so blessed because not only TM, but also my MIL slept in my hospital room that first night. By the time of my C-section, my parents had arrived, as had my siblings and my sister-in-law. I was so grateful for all of the support.TM was in the operating room and actually peered over the sheet to watch them removing our son. He doesn't get nauseated by seeing me cut open. The medical staff warned us well in advance that they would have to remove the baby immediately to insert breathing tubes, etc., and that we wouldn't get some nice birth moment of the baby lying next to me. Indeed, the held him up to me quickly and when whisked him away. TM swears that the baby gave him the stink eye as if to say, "Hey, I was comfortable in there! What have you guys done!??'

Since then it took time for my health to be stabilized, but I'm back home and loving my new time of visiting my son.

Best Sunday morning tv ever

I was half-watching Coronation Street but then went to have a shower - when I came back out, the Canadian documentary expose show W5 was on. It's on the mob in Montreal. Anyhow, the part that is cracking me up is that they are playing surveillance tapes and phone taps and giving subtitles for everything. This is beyond hilarious - if you're not involved that is, If you are involved with the mob, the threats are quite terrifying - but seeing Sunday morning tv with a huge caption reading "I'm smarter than you. I'm not fuckin stupid" and "She was fuckin hot" is making my day. Admittedly, as I acknowledged above, the whole realizing that people are saying things like, "Who am I? I'm the guy who's going to cause you to drink out of a straw for the next six months," and not starring in an HBO sitcom is somewhat terrifying, but for tv - this is wild.

One month and counting

I have been low-level sick for a month now. It's very draining spiritually but whatever - people live with worse. I'm just frightened that I'm going to develop pre-eclampsia which can be life-threatening for mother and child. If that happens the only solution is inducing delivery which I'm too early for right now. Ah well, I have an appointment next week with my OB so I'll see what's up then.

Meanwhile, our new mayor is an embarrassment. His whole platform was 'stop the gravy train' and wanting to stop the 'war on the car' (because, you know, a true world class city like NYC which builds bike lanes or Montreal and London which have the Bixi program in place don't know what they're doing...). That's an okay platform for a local councillor, but it's hardly an inspirational vision for a mayor.

TM and I are doing okay as far as our finances go. Sure, we could be doing better and we need to pay off some debts which we foolishly each allowed to grow in single life, but we are pretty much the taxpayers that Mayor Ford wants to protect. Yet we don't feel hard done by. I'm happy to support low-income projects. Also, what war on the car? TM and I own two cars (and 12 bikes...) but we are all for more bike lanes, better public transit, and pedestrian areas.

He was voted in by the 'burbs. The original Toronto before a bunch of amalgamations resulting in the Greater Toronto Area voted solidly for a more left-leaning candidate. I see this as being the issue from now on. The 'burbs will get more voters and will generally get in their candidate of choice, and the city dwellers will be stuck with a city built for commuters. I mean, the 'burbanites should get the candidate they want, but it just seems to me that amalgamation is not always the best thing.

Who needs codeine?

Apparently pregnancy is giving me the same crazy dreams. Mind you, that may be because I'm waking up all the freaking time (thank you pregnancy for putting my mild sleep apnea into overdrive) - and I'm remembering them. The other night I had a dream that I met blogger Stewie (he blogs "A Perfect Example" and writes reviews of horror movies). We ended up going to watch his favourite horror movie, but somehow ended up IN a horror scene instead. It was some sort of bizarre wild west/demon thing. Anyhow, I was distraught throughout the latter part of the dream saying, "I don't want to be here". I ended up deciding to walk 100 miles through a desert to safety. With no water. No idea how that turned out. I likely died but I was getting the hell out of that scene before the demons started fighting.

This has been something that has happening with all my dreams recently. I am cognizant enough to realize that something frightening is going to happen and that i need to get out of the scene, but somehow I don' realize that I'm dreaming, or can't get to the point where I can stop it.

My most recent and terrifying - to me- one was walking with a friend through London. It was deserted and I was remarking to my friend, "Isn't this odd that we don't see anyone? I mean, London has millions of people..." My friend casually remarked that everyone was inside and hiding before darkness came and the vampires came out. I remember clearly thinking, "What????" and then saying, "but...but ... why aren't *we* inside then?" At the same time in the dream, there was a very dramatic sun sinking down in the sky and distant howling was heard.

People, I was having a heart attack. It seems I ended up convincing my friend that since all the buildings were locked to us, that we should take the subway back up to Scotland. Because Scotland had no vampire issues and there was a convenient subway which ran directly on an overhead track to Scotland... At one point the subway went over some sort of recreation centre/gym where a bunch of vampires were playing basketball/killing things and they realized that we were in the subway. Then the vampires were in a frenzy trying to claw their way through the roof into the subway car. Stupid, right? Yet even now I can hardly type this out without being terrified.

I woke up and was too scared to go back to sleep. I actually called TM to come to bed. I think he was playing video games or something. I think my dreams/nightmares in the following nights were a bit tamer but I'm still scared to sleep. Unless of course my beloved little ALF is actually Rosemary's baby or something and beginning to take over my body...

More little loves

Today I feel like crap and so am back in love with Bird's custard. My mum used to make that for me and my sibs when we were kids, especially when we were ill. It's still completely soothing to me and is one of the few foods that appeals to me right now.

I also am craving beans on toast but I have no beans, and worse, no bread. This will necessitate a trip to the grocery store later on today. I just hope my throat stops feeling like it's on fire. Still, I've managed to avoid the flu/plague that seems to be felling many friends and coworkers. Thank you Ontario's universal flu shot program! I took advantage of you early on and am reaping the rewards.

I was sick all last week-end too. Majorly run-down and slept 14 hours a day. This was followed though by about the most productive 3 days I've had at work in ages. Also, I have started reading Robert Fisk's book The Conquest of the Middle East.

I'm on page 80. Only 1000 more to go. Fisk is a long-time and particularly articulate foreign correspondent. This is part of my goal this year to work on my mind. I'm tired of reading about moronic movie stars. I do follow some gossip blogs though and decided that I was just going to put equal time (at least) into non-fiction reading. Honestly, I don't consider myself some uninformed degenerate, but already I've learned so much more about the middle east.

And now, back to my custard.

Gratitude

Welcome 2011!

There was so much that I had to be grateful for in 2010. Topping the charts would be family and friends, my in-laws, my new family (TM and growing ALF), the miracle that I was even able to get pregnant, still having a job, and the most awesome family doctor ever.

Yet there are other smaller items that keep me going and deserve their own little shout-outs.

Cipralex: Thank you little happy pill. Without you I would likely be dead. Thank you for getting me through the hormonal ups and downs of pregnancy as well.

My local Starbucks: Thank you for being a part of my morning routine. Wake up, take the dog out, stop at Starbucks for my blessed solo espresso in the building right across from us, then continue on to the parkette so that the dog can have her morning pee. Starbucks, you don't make the best espresso in the world, but it's decent, does the trick, and your staff are unfailingly pleasant.

Roots hip-hugger black trousers: omg I love you. I'm past five months of pregnancy and can still wear these because they sit below the ever-expanding belly. Also, thank you for having designed trousers that truly are hip-huggers as opposed to the ass-crack-exposing crotch-huggers that sadly were in style for years.

Mount Sinai Hospital: Thank you for giving an obstetrician who is realistic and who after my first visit told me that having a coffee was fine. Thank you too to your physicians who wrote Canada's Pregnancy Care Book. Unlike the fucking horrific paranoia of What to Expect When You're Expecting (seriously, don't EVER buy this book for someone unless you want them to believe that having Doritos during pregnancy will cause irreparable harm to the fetus), this book actually lays out the medical facts of pregnancy without touchy-feely unproven stupidity.

And last but not least... Toast. Toast, you are my friend. Covered in butter you make my world. Thank you.

Best of 2011 to everyone. I am having family over for a New Year's meal today. Last night I stayed in and prepared the steak pie. TM went out to visit friends but came home in time to ring in the new year with me. A very good way for us to start the year.