When Baby Has a Cold

Jack has his first cold.

Oh, I could talk about Christmas, all the lovely things our families gave our son and the joy of watching my son grip the wrapping paper and make small tears. But on Boxing Day, it all came to a screeching halt. But I'll go ahead and briefly describe the BC (Before Cold) era.

See, we had rolled into my mother-in-law's Christmas eve before the sun set, had dinner and put Jack to bed. We woke up to a picturesque sight. The ice storm that hit the province days before had the trees glistening in the sunlight. She lives in a small town and the views from any angle are all things charming.

We did Christmas dinner at my aunt's house and spent the night. I had too much wine. Then in the afternoon we headed on out to a family friend's house on the island, and then off to the Dude's aunt and uncle's for dinner. Jack seemed to be holding up well enough, but was clearly starting to get grumpy. So, sensibly, we left. In the morning, we would see the Dude's grandmother in the nursing home and then come back home to Toronto.

That totally didn't happen.

I can't remember when it started, but Jack started waking up crying. I always take the night shift. If it's rough, I'll just sleep in from 6:00 a.m. on and the Dude will handle the morning. But the crying wouldn't stop and he felt warm. Eventually I had to wake up the Dude and we brought our baby into the bed. The Dude got maybe a few hours of sleep. I got none.

While I recuperated from a night that was hell on wheels, the Dude and his mom brought Jack to the walk-in clinic. Verdict? A cold.

Now, I didn't know this, but A. a baby often has several colds in the first year, and B. they can last TEN days. 10. One-zero. Cue misery. I mean, we had obviously gotten away with something all this time never having dealt with a BC before, but it was here now and damn it.

We did not visit grandmother, we did not go home. We stayed at my MIL's and took care of business. This was nice. Food and drink were made available, no housework need be done and we could just focus on taking care of our sick baby and otherwise resting from caring for our sick baby.

And then I had to spend all night alone with him. The Dude needed to drive home and fatigue on the highway serves no one. So, I got the queen bed to myself with the baby and he laid on me all night, effectively keeping me awake until 6:30 a.m.

He'd wake up with a hoarse cry and I'd give him some formula. Then he woke up some more and I had no more supplies in the room, so I left him crying in the travel crib while I mixed him up another bottle. He woke up a lot to sob about his impacted breathing, and pitifully snuffle and wail. I'd give him baby Tylenol every four hours to keep a fever at bay.

In the morning I was relieved of my duties and I slept for 4.5 hours. But then it was go time and I was on the clock. We got home in one piece, and I did the night shift again when Jack wouldn't sleep in his crib, even with it on an incline to promote drainage.

So today, knowing that tomorrow I would have no sleeping in with the Dude back at work for two days, I got cracking. I researched everything and then I set out. I got my nails done first to give myself a break, but then I got serious.

1. Vicks VapoSteam. The Dude bought a humidifier and we have it running now. You add a little VapoSteam and it gives a little extra sumpin' sumpin' to the steam to help clear the sinuses.

2. Hydrasense Easydose. I use the regular full power stuff on myself for allergies and this stuff does not kid around. So we tried it. They come in capsules and we squirt one into each nostril and then wipe up the contents as they make their gross exit. (Okay, this is so gross, but one time it worked so well that a giant booger shot through to the other side of the nose and when I squirt up that side next, the capsule acted like a suction and sucked it right out. Incredible in its ickiness.)

3. Shower steam room. And! For bonus effectiveness, I put some of the VapoSteam in the shower and created this medicinal box of easy breathing. I ran Jack's bath and a whole bunch of stuff came out of his nose by the time the bath was over.

4. Vick VapoRub. Classic. We use just a dab on his chest.

5. Crib is still on an incline for drainage.

And for hydration, I added an ounce of water to the formula because Jack doesn't seem keen on drinking water on its own. And of course Baby Tylenol every four hours.

No screwing around.

So far Jack has woken up once, but went back to sleep. We'll see how well this goes. The Dude got Jack sleeping a lot for naps in the car seat (Again, the recline was the key) and I'm going to use all these tips and tricks to keep things going tomorrow.

I really do think my baby is a trooper, though. Not only is he going through his first cold, but he also cut two more teeth while at my MIL's. He could have been so much worse.

Oh, parenting.

But know what's great? He's been so snuggly and cuddly with me, and he can't do without his stuffed Big Bird. Precious.

Presents for Baby

So, what do you give a baby for Christmas? Do you go ALL OUT because it's your first time having a child of your own for the holiday? Do you skip giving any presents at all because baby doesn't know Christmas from Tuesday? Do you use the day as an excuse to buy your baby a few new age-appropriate things you were going to get him anyway, and simply wrap them up for effect?

If you chose the last one, you're like me. It's tempting to spoil your baby because love. But really, you don't want to get into the hoopla of overspending. It can create a bad cycle.

So, we got him three things. One from Pa, one from Ma and one from Santa. Then there's whatever else grandparents are planning to do and I'd say it's one happy little Christmas. Although, Jack would be just as happy if I handed him my smart phone and turned on the screen. Hell, touching the remote control is a good day for him. But oh well.

So, the things we got him are a puzzle, a block set and a tambourine.

The blocks are simple painted little things:

Cute!

And I don't have photos for the other two, but the tambourine was fun. I took Jack into the toy store and, as I like to do, put various toys in his hands to see what he liked. Oh, he banged that tambourine around and smiled like he'd found some kind of candy Jesus. So, that was a win.

And the puzzle looked neato. Babies don't really do those, but this one is suitable for a one-year-old because the pieces can fit into various places. It's really weird for me to imagine Jack being able to use it. He's eight months old. He can't stack blocks even. He knocks them down and bangs them together. Hell, I remember when that was a big deal.

Actually, he's crawling now, and that's the current big thing. He's romping around the apartment like an elephant. He doesn't go on his knees, he's rump in the air and on all fours. It's adorable. Tiring, but sweet. It's amazing how endlessly fascinated he is with things like lint or handles or crumbs. And how much his discoveries point out how bad I need to clean the house.

I'm wondering if he'll like ripping wrapping paper. I'm not holding out hope he'll actually open presents, but if he at least enjoys the spectacle that is opened presents amongst ribbons and tissue paper, that'll be enough.

Oh man, a child of my own at Christmas. This is it. This is the beginning of the kind of holiday joy I've been waiting for. Squee!

Mom Gets Out

Oh, I am the WORST! Yes, I kinda sorta quit blogging briefly. Why? Oh who knows. Laziness, I guess.

Or maybe I've just been kind of living it up a bit. Oh yes! I have had a slew of fun things going on around here.

I'll detail my awesome week(ish) away.

1. Paint Nite. The premise is this: you go with friends to a pub/restaurant and paint the same thing. There's a master to copy from with an instructor to guide you along the way. Everyone comes with with a different version of the same basic work.

Half done!

We all started off feeling like we were doing a terrible job and wondering what sort of crap we were going to bring home. I usually have a lot of artistic confidence that I'll be able to create something decent, but early on even I started feeling like it was all going to hell. But the beauty of Paint Nite is really in how simple it really is to make a good painting. We all wound up making something pretty nice.

With my friends!

But the best part was that everyone except me thought it would be lame, but were still up for it anyway. Turns out they all had fun and I got to feel good my pals were up for what they thought would be a crummy experience just to hang out! But seriously, though, it is a good time. And you get to bring home some art.

2. One Of A Kind Show. So, I made plans with a friend to go on a Sunday, nice and early in the schedule, and we moseyed. This friend, she's good at the moseying, and you need to be to see as much as you can. I did wind up getting some stuff that day: A stained-glass window and a new clock.

(The clock is for the living room. The Dude brought home a boring-ass IKEA clock that looks like something you'd see in a passport renewal office. So, I brought home a neato clock from the OOAKS. It now hangs in our living room looking like perfection. I had texted him a picture of it from the sales booth and received a very resigned text back. There is no fighting me if I want a cow clock.)

Moo.
I really have a love for cows for some reason.

And of course I bought treats.

But I wound up going the next day too. My in-laws were in town to help my sister-in-law with the OOAKS and my father-in-law helpfully offered to babysit while I enjoyed myself at the show with my step mother-in-law (Seems like a weird title, but it's helpful to differentiate between the two mothers-in-law I have for the sake of clarity). So, why the hell not? Off I went from 9:30 to... 4:00.

4:00! I had no intention of being gone that long, but I got caught up in a whirl of obstacles. I did, however, manage to get my niece a present. I wanted to get her something special, as life has been a little up in the air and I've barely been able to see her at all. So I thought some clothes would be the thing.

I found this adorable jacket that was priced at $40 and when I came back ready to buy it, I saw there was a blouse inside that was marked $40. So I'd read the wrong tag initially. The jacket's real price? Not $40 after all. $250. I did not buy it. I was grateful to be spared the experience of taking an exorbitantly priced children's garment to the cash only to explain I thought it was $210 cheaper so I couldn't actually afford it.

Oh, and I also bought more treats.

3. My birthday party! I turned 31 this week and on Saturday we had my party. My friends all came and made merry. It was my first time playing Cards Against Humanity, which for some reason everyone thought I might be too delicate for. Apparently, I come across as something of a ladylike person, which I have no idea how. But it was a crazy game and we literally played until there were no more cards left.

How to describe this game... well, in one round the topic was Michael Jackson. Everyone picked the card from their stack of 10 to best describe him and the ones I can remember, although they were all wildly appropriate, were: Daddy issues, poor life choices, jerking off into a pool of children's tears (That one won).

Crazy thing is my birthday totally snuck up on me this year. 31 is no big deal. And I keep thinking about Jack's upcoming first birthday. My year has been measured by watching this wee guy grow and change rapidly. School used to be the marker of time. Then there was adjusting to no school. The seasons and birthdays and Christmas/New Years did that. And now there is a little person in my house showing me in a tangible way how fast time is truly passing. It's sort of upsetting. I mean, I love him and get excited about his development, but wow. Somehow I'm a mother to an eight-month-old and one day I'll be a mother to a child, and then a teenager, and then another adult. And I'll be old.

That's not really what I see or think about when I look at him. When I see my baby's face, I feel affection and warmth and pride. His little smile lights up my life. It's when I'm in bed trying to sleep that my eventual hardcore aging and demise start to creep in. That or thoughts of zombies. It's a sad fact about me that for some reason if I think about zombies, I just can't fall asleep.

But when I don't think about zombies, I think about my son, and taking him places and doing things. This will be his first Christmas. He doesn't understand a dang thing; we set up the tree today with him beside us and he gave zero fucks. He cares about the cats a lot more than he cares about our sparkly Christmas tree. But it's still exciting and sweet. It's the beginning of him learning about winter and the holidays.

And now it needs to be the beginning of bed time. For whatever reason, even after having a baby, I can't fall asleep at a decent hour. I suppose this is just the way I'm wired.

Baby's Family

So, having your baby's grandparents in town is amazing. There are people (So many!) who have this incredible family resource all the time: loving people who adore your child and don't think it's a favour to babysit. Once in a while I get the joy of this experience.

The Dude's dad and stepmom came up for a week and on Thursday watched Jack while I got my hair done. La! Nice hair! So awesome. And then on Saturday they came over and watched Homeland at our house while Jack slept and we attended the McPal annual Halloween party.

Sailor Jupiter and Spock.
In the name of the moon, live long and prosper.

I got to fulfill a small teenage wish and was Sailor Jupiter! Sailor Moon is really the gold standard dream, but the cost of the wig and boots made it less than economical. Plus, what do you do with a Sailor Moon wig after you're done wearing it? I haven't gone to an anime convention in 10 years. So, I picked the Sailor Senshi with hair I wouldn't need to purchase a wig for. Logical. Spock logical.

The costume isn't the most flattering. Right around the narrowest part of the waist there is thick tubing. But whatever. Ever since I had the baby my body hasn't looked the same and increasingly I've grown less concerned about it.

The day after the party (Which was SO much fun) we went to our nephew's birthday party. There were eight grandkids there, including Jack. All the little kids got right in his face and wanted to hold him and were touching his head all over. My boy, let me tell you, is one cool customer. Took it all in stride. Nothing gets to him, really, except fatigue, hunger and gas. Yelling kids poking his cheeks? Pfft, ain't no thing.

I remember when I was the kid in these gatherings. I didn't give a thought to my mom or dad, or how much it meant to them that I was playing with my cousins. Funny, in so many instances you think your parents did things to make you happy, and it's true, sure. But really, it was to ultimately make themselves happy as they enjoyed some peace as you ran around with other kids. I'm looking forward to seeing Jack play with other kids. Right now he's only just learned to sort of play with squishy blocks.

The Dude's dad came over today as well, just before bath time, hung out with the baby and us. Jack loves his Grandpa. You know, this sort of family stuff is nice. I've gotten used to the way things are with it mostly being just the Dude and I, but extended family really makes life better.

And now to acclimatize back to normal. I may try out a nearby Early Years Centre tomorrow. I have no idea if it's something I'll like taking Jack to or not. Sadly, baby-centric things like Rainbow Songs have not proven very palatable. If I have to clap along to singing or anything, it may not become a regular outing. We'll see!

Home From Christmas

Christmas has come and gone. We took a whirlwind trip up to our hometown to spend Christmas eve with the Dude's mother, Christmas day with my aunt and uncle and then Boxing Day visiting Buddy B's mom and then home to Toronto before the storm hit.

And we did it all in a pretentious Land Rover. We reserved something sensible, but none were returned on time so we were upgraded for free. The Dude has been on a motorized cloud nine and I just felt embarrassed. I don't care for overt opulence. Also, people on the highway didn't want to let us through. Probably because we looked like young yuppie jerks in that thing. Though the seat warmers were nice.

It was nice to see everybody. Everyone was interested in how I was doing and asked all the usual baby-related questions and fussed over my bump. Obviously it got touched. Some asked, some didn't think to and gave a quick touch, and a few tried to snake in there against my comfort zone and crowd me with rubbing. The first two I allowed with a smile. The latter I fought off, once with a dinner plate.

It was all in good fun until my dad, with whom I have a struggling and distant relationship, was one of those who attempted the crowd n' rub, which really creeps me out. I blocked him and he told me to "go away" while still trying to rub me. I really, really find that unpalatable. Even with permission, I prefer people to allow me to guide their hands to where I'm comfortable being touched. Being indiscriminately rubbed down is nauseating.

Whereas others laughed when I blocked their invasive attempts and knocked it off, my dad took it poorly. He has a habit of trying to force intimacy out of me in front of people for show, like those awful men who propose marriage at stadiums hoping the social pressure will garner an acceptance. Thing is, I don't care. I value boundaries. After I shook off his forceful handling a few times, he stormed off and that was that. It created an awkward situation. But I make no apologies, not when I fancy myself able to select if I'm touched in personal areas of my body and by who and when.

Otherwise the trip was a success. We ate well, received some nice things and had quality time with our families. We fielded a lot of questions about when we were going to bring the baby back up, say, for Easter. And of course there's no way we're doing that.

I'm due in mid March, Easter is March 31. The idea of travelling one to two weeks after giving birth is my idea of Hell. I'll be waking up every few hours to nurse, I'll need to sleep when the baby sleeps, and I really don't see how travel will be beneficial at that point. And of course I may go overdue, which would means I could be pregnant within days of Easter, making travel insane. Plus I'll be on mat leave so we wouldn't be able to afford a rental car so soon after taking a big pay cut. And that's too early to expose a newborn to a swarm of people. And there's no way to go to our hometown without stopping at three separate households unless we want to cause offense.

I can appreciate that we're loved and people want to visit with our baby, but I think this is one of those areas where it would be best to not bother trying to accomodate others. I'm pretty sure we won't be setting foot outside Toronto until summertime. Loved ones who can't wait are free to visit. We don't have a lot of family around these parts, so I'd be happy to have people come over.

God, I can't believe 2012 is nearly over. 2013 is going to be unlike anything I've ever experienced.

Cozy Christmas

After years of going without, and then a couple years of only having the Charlie Brown Christmas tree...

Which isn't a bad little tree.

...we finally bit the bullet and bought an artificial tree. And lights. And ornaments. I think all in all we plunked down about $200 on the whole caboodle. The Dude went to the store without me, while I stayed home and worked, feeling under the weather, and he wound up calling from Home Depot asking for instructions on which tree to get. Pre-lit or not? How big? Which ornaments did I want?

I went online to look at everything and said things like, "I like the sparkly blue balls," and the Dude was like, "That's in the blue aisle, I'm in the red aisle!"And I'd say something like, "I didn't know there were colour-coded aisles! I can't see you!" "Why aren't you here? Ugh!" "Next time we buy a Christmas tree, I'll know better!"

It was wildly inefficient. But I must say the tree looks great. I had us budgeted for ornaments under a certain price and the Dude, in a fit of bravado after we got off our ridiculous phone call, made some independent holiday purchase decisions and loaded the cart with about twice the amount of Christmas we could sensibly afford.

But behold!

And I got my star instead of an angel, like the Dude wanted.
This was a harder sell than choosing baby names.

It's nice to have a Christmas tree. I think us having a baby soon is really the only reason we splurged on it. We're going to want to have some holiday joy already bought and in the house while we have a wee one and I'm on mat leave.

It's rather charming. Got my husband, my cats, my baby on the way in our cozy apartment and now we have a Christmas tree. It's so homey and typical. It's comforting. I had a lot of uproar when I was a teenager. I don't really value that sort of life. This is where it's at for me.

Thanksgiving Schlep

You know what sucks worse than taking the bus back to your hometown for Thanksgiving? Paying $320 to get there. Seriously. The Dude's licence expired over the last MTO strike, so he had to start over and since I don't drive, myself, he only has his G2. Which means no renting a car for us. And a car would have been slightly cheaper. And it would have been a car.

So, we'll be spending the holidays with my family, as usual. There's always a big family dinner of at least 20 people and tasty food. It's been dwindling and growing simultaneously over the years, as people move, find love and/or have children and either defer to their spouse's family or remains with us. I'm not 100% sure what category the Dude and I will fall under after the baby is born.

I imagine we'll still make the trek from time to time. We have family in the same city, so it'll be important. And car rentals are inexpensive compared to owning a car, which due to the TTC I don't believe we'll need regularly, so not having a vehicle of our own shouldn't be too much of an impediment to travel.

But still. Changes. Life chugs on. It's going to be time for us to create our own traditions in our lives, and packing up our child and driving three hours to see extended family each holiday isn't likely to survive. The commute is a bit much for a small child, who likely would rather stay home and hunt Easter eggs or open presents from Santa than schlep to various houses in a city hours away.

Probably we'll be able to keep up with Thanksgiving. The big family dinner is exciting and delicious and a time to enjoy little-seen family members. Nothing we could do at home would be able to match the fun. But as for the rest of the year, I'm thinking random trips up will be all we can manage. And they'll be packed and harried with all the different households we'd have to visit, never mind trying to see friends. How easy life would be if we all lived in the same spot.

I feel the baby kick more and more all the time, especially at night. It's a reminder things are about to get very different very fast.

Christmastime

Christmas, she has come and gone, as has my whirlwind tour to my hometown. Unlike being a child and experiencing the pull of two separate families due to a family breakup, being an adult married to another child of divorce means more families to see.

My mother's family dissipated after the back-to-back deaths of my Grammy and mother. My aunt Debby kept things up as best as possible, however my Poppie moved to another town and she had to throw in the towel. Now she's in Vancouver with her husband, my cousins followed suit and Poppie passed away.

This depressing series of events has thus lessened my holiday visiting obligations, but I miss them all. I'd gladly make the time to see them and share in the festivities again, if I could. They were never an obligation in the true sense of the word. They were always a joy.

My father's family is in full swing. People are marrying, procreating. Christmas dinner swelled to 24 people, even with my aunt Mary & co. absent. I really cherish these holiday get-togethers. I love my family. They're the sort of people that even if you're not a blood relative, you belong. Warm, basically.

My aunt, the one who hosts it each year with my uncle, worries about it expanding beyond their means. And it's a reasonable concern. New in-laws, new children, all needing seats and a spot at the table. Everyone's always welcome, but sadly as people move or make their own families and stop coming, it's likely to be the only way the dinner will be sustainable.

And even more sadly, if the Dude and I become parents, I see us being two more who drop out of the dinner, as travelling hours on the highway in the winter in a rental car to zoom about every family we need to see with an infant or toddler is not my idea of a happy Christmas.

So we must make the most of the years we have left. Though although I want to have children, I don't think we're 100% decided on it.

As for the Dude's family, his father and stepmom will likely be spending future Christmases up here, where more of the grandchildren are. But who knows for certain. They're snowbirds and go to Arizona for the winter to bask in the dry heat. I think of them in February when I trudge through the slush.

The Dude's mom stays put in her small village home outside of the city we grew up in. It's charming. She'll likely always be available for a Christmas visit. We've spent the last two Christmas eve's at her place.

People have asked us about making holiday traditions as a couple. Truth be told, it's too early. Our lives, well, we haven't picked a solid direction for the two of us to go in yet. I don't know what will be best for us. I just know that the current status quo is probably on borrowed time. Sometimes growing up is a bummer.

Quel Dommage

One day I'll develop the sleep a normal person enjoys.

Who am I kidding? No, I won't.

Last night I had a lovely time at a joint birthday for friends, who are a married couple the Dude and I know and love. It was meat, cheese, wine and an amazing dance game on the X-Box that the Dude did surprisingly well in. Me, not so much, but I burned some calories, which alleviated my guilt in eating a quarter wheel of brie. Plus it was amazing fun. I love my friends.

We got home late and were in bed by 2:00 and I never was able to fall asleep, despite being tired. My moon time started and woke me up around 5:00 with aching cramps. I had to make several unrelated-to-moontime trips to the bathroom. Sprinkles caught me up around 6:00 and by 8:00, I had no choice but to go upstairs and feed her and Bea. I went back to bed and sweat under the covers and that woke me up, too. Now it's noon, I've been officially up since... I'm not sure, and I feel mentally disconnected.

I have a manicure/pedicure appointment soon, which will be nice. But then the Dude and I are going to the Eaton Centre because we both need shoes/boots. And that won't be nice. It's a Sunday a couple weeks before Christmas at the largest mall downtown Toronto. We're talking zoo central. But I have no winter boots. My only pair, which were three or four years old, developed holes in them by the end of their second winter. I kept wearing them and avoided puddles.

Some women love new shoes. I... don't. I look at every new pair as something new and pinchy that will hurt my feet and scrape skin off my toes or heels. My feet are also 1/2 a size different from each other, so finding a comfy and attractive pair I can afford, which fits both feet properly is a pain the ass. So I hang onto footwear as much as humanly possibly, mostly until they disintegrate off of my feet. And that's what happened to the boots. The soles broke off the front and were catching on escalators. And I looked like a hobo in them.

So before the snow comes, I must get a new pair. And I have to venture out there into the hell that is Christmas shopping season. Quel dommage.

Maybe a movie would be good after all this. My aunt called me to leave me a message telling me that the child in Hugo reminded her of me very much. Call me narcissistic, but now I'm intrigued.

Thanksgiving

Sometimes I get the amusing sensation that The Sims is a little truer to life than one might think.

I have a lovely bouquet of anniversary flowers sitting on my kitchen table and the room is lovely and clean and newly organized. My mood rises briefly and noticeably as I pass through it en route to the bathroom, just like a Sim character's Environment meter soars when it walks through a room that has some nice art in it. My mood then drops back to normal as I walk through the Dude's makeshift studio.

Flowers are charming and pleasant, aren't they? Some people hate them "because they'll just die anyway," but getting flowers is one of my favourite things. They make the apartment smell and look wonderful and they make me smile for days.

We decided that other than spending our non-family-filled Thanksgiving weekend being useful, we would also spend it eating good food, as life intended. For our five-year-anniversary, we went to the Keg Mansion and gorged on steak. We dressed up (though we were seemingly surrounded by yahoos who looked like they should have gone to Pizza Hut instead, in their ball caps, jerseys, hoodies, ripped jeans and bar tops that split open in the back to reveal a turquoise bra) and had a cozy and romantic evening.

The next night, on actual Thanksgiving, the Dude made a delicious beef stew and I made my first ever pumpkin pie. Both turned out quite nicely and we had McPal and his fiance over to join us. Sharing home-cooked meals with friends has become one of our favourite ways to spend an evening.

It wasn't the first time we've spent a family holiday in an less conventional way, that is away from family. We miss them, but it really brings home the fact that he's my family now. I'm home where the Dude is.

There is a point in a relationship where being together is the priority, and that's a beautiful place to be. It's a feeling of being on a team, of being connected, of being a unit. It's the understanding that on important days we're not going our separate ways to do our own thing. It's the sort of unity I've always wanted. In three and a half weeks, it'll be permanent unity.

Wow. That kind of blows my mind a little.

Thanksgiving Bummer

The Dude and I are missing Thanksgiving this year. Cue the stereotypical bride who was too busy with planning to sort out the rest of her life. Bah. That sort of is what happened.

And before my American readers get upset for me, understand Thanksgiving is not as big of a deal here (and it's also obviously in October). Christmas is the big ticket holiday. Our Boxing Day is your Black Friday.

Anyhoo, it's not so much that I've been up to my eyeballs in shit to do, but I've been mentally preoccupied and so when it came time to get our tickets to go to our hometown to visit our families, we realized we had missed the boat. No turkey for us. No cozy familial warmth. No harassing my extended family to send in their RSVPs.

This Sunday does happen to be our five-year anniversary, and the last one we'll have before we have a new one on a new date. So we'll go out somewhere fancy, be merry, eat steak and otherwise get things done around the house. How adult. We started by finally hanging some art in the living room.

In a way, I suppose this is good. A quiet anniversary, a weekend to ourselves to get caught up around here, general R&R time. But still. What a bummer.

Hello 2011

I rang in the new year with friends and woke up sick as a dog, through no fault of my own. And by that, I mean I didn't have a hangover, I had a sore throat, fever, aches and a stuffy nose. I'm glad I'm not superstitious, because otherwise that and my messy apartment would be a real concern for entering 2011.

So 2010 was quite the year for me. It's not like I didn't chronicle everything in here already, big and small, but I do like to sum up things, so here we go, in chronological order:

• Hired maid service for the first time
• Hosted an Oscar party
• Went to California for a wedding
• Danced in the spring gala
• Saw Lady Gaga in concert
• Tried hot yoga
• McPal moved into the city
• Got engaged
• Booked a venue for the wedding
• Smokey died
• Dude was best man at his brother's wedding
• Went to Mexico and saw my family
• Was in my cousin's wedding
• Bought my wedding dress
• Turned 28 years old
• Went on extended trip home to our hometown

Add to that various parties, movies, books, visits with friends and great meals, and that's been my year. It was a good one.

2011 is the year the Dude and I plan to get married, but before that we're getting kittens! We still have to wait a week, however. Yes, yes, life is rough. I suppose it's safe to say that the year will also comprise of planning a wedding. I still have to find flowers, a cake, a DJ, wedding rings, and an officiant.

And of course, get over this stupid cold. *Hack* *Wheeze* *Sniffle* At least I got in a good new year's party before I came down with this. It was a really fun night: good company, tasty food, games, drinks, and celebration. And good thing I enjoyed it, too, because the rest of my holiday vacation is likely to be spent in bed.

Waiting

I'm quite literally waiting on a phone call about kittens. Perhaps the foster mom for my hopefully-future-kitties-to-be is on vacation.

You know when things feel stagnant? And not stagnant like nothing is happening, but the kind where things are on the verge of happening and the potential for awesomeness is lingering in the air and you have nothing to do but wait for an undisclosed amount of time to see what happens? Yeah.

Kittens are one thing. The apartment downstairs is another. Our landlady is interested in having a property manager, and we're interested in paying less rent. So we've been going back and forth and our current offer of $75 less rent per month in exchange for property management is on the table. Basically, the Dude would fix small stuff for free and only charge our landlady for materials. He'd handle the garbage, shovelling, cleaning of common areas, and handle complaints from the other tenants. He'd oversee major repair issues and generally be available when needed.

Seeing as our landlady is good about paying for things, but does not enjoy coming out to the property and asks the Dude to handle these things and winds up paying him for his labour costs, this would be a deal for her. But we'll see what sort of conclusion she comes to.

And this is how I'm spending my Christmas vacation. When I was a kid or a teenager, I'd spend it hanging out with friends, watching new movies, playing with new toys or gadgets and/or glued to video games. Now I'm trying to plan a move. And of course, I'm trying to get kitties. The irritations and privileges of adult life rolled into one holiday vacation time.

I haven't been to any Boxing Day sales (Or should I say Boxing Week). That was a standby when I was a teenager. Generally speaking, I don't enjoy shopping as much as I used to, at least not in malls. The crowds fill me with dread. I can't help but remember when I was working in fast food when I was younger and had to work the week after Christmas. It's enough to give you a twisted knot in your stomach just thinking about going into a melee like that voluntarily.

Before I go, I have a picture of my ring, a better picture than the blurry Photobooth one I posted a couple months ago when I first got engaged. One of my aunts wanted a photo of it because she wouldn't see me this Christmas, and so the Dude took a good one. This ring has a story to it, which I'll tell soon.

'Tis a handy thing, having a photographer in the house.

Time out

I'm home, and glad of it. Not that I don't enjoy visiting relatives, because I do, but damn if there's just no place like your own digs. We came home to a bit of a mess, but it was still a comforting sight. And sure, the neighbours had cranked up the heat to 25 C, and we felt the familiar chill as we entered our own uninsulated portion of the house to an uninspiring 15 C, but home is home.

We've been negotiating rent and responsibilities with the landlord over the holidays, so that might result in a happier living space. But even though we're still stuck in this frosty abode for awhile yet, there's nothing like having your home base back. And now that we are back 'n cozy, it's time for kittens. I haven't been able to shut up about kittens. I just don't feel 100% without feline companionship. I've set things in motion to begin an adoption, so hopefully within a couple weeks, I should have kitties, kitties, kitties. Well, two kitties.

I could talk about the actual visit back to ye olde hometown, but it was largely uneventful. The holidays are so often a whirlwind of activity and scheduling. Though I enjoyed all the visits, it would be hard to recount them without making it sound like a laundry list. I answered a lot of questions about my wedding. Mostly they were, "Where is it?" "When is it?" and, "Is there a nearby hotel?" I had answers for all three handy.

I actually fell asleep most of yesterday at the Dude's dad's place. I had an allergy pill (or two) that knocked me out, but I think I really required a mental break. Extended socialization drains me of energy.

In fact, I have written all I can, and I've been staring at the screen unable to write much of substance for some time. Off to unwind and shut off all communication.

Merry Christmas

And so it begins, the great odyssey to our hometown to see three different family units, plus other shorter visits. Thankfully we'll have access to a car. I love being in a car with the Dude. He's a good driver, and relaxed. We're so rarely in a car together that it's actually kind of a novelty.

But for any of it to begin, we have to take the bus, which is of course the least humane way to travel during the holiday season. Or any season, but mostly Christmas eve because everyone is loaded with holiday paraphernalia, is anxious because they're worried about getting a seat, and uncomfortable because they've been in line in the cold forever. Plus, while many love this time of year, it also can bring out the worst in people.

So yeah, not totally jazzing on taking the bus. But we're leaving in five minutes, Christmas will be here any second pretty much, and so one must suck it up and make the trek. After all, we have three consecutive turkey dinners to attend. Something tells me I'll get plenty of sleep.

Merry Christmas, readership!

Christmas shopping

Okay, so Christmas is pretty much happening any second and I'm sort of in denial about it. No, not really, but I only have to buy one gift. One gift! And I'm not going out to do it.

I bought my aunt a Christmas ornament. We mail each other presents each year. I was going to go out and get her a Swarovski ornament for her tree, but then realized that (a) there's an online store and (b) they would ship it to her with greater speed and less muss and fuss, without me having to stand in line at the post office during the holiday season.

The Dude and I are getting each other kittens (yay!) in the new year for Christmas. It's going to be a somewhat pricey endeavour, hence the allocation of Christmas monies for the cause.

I made bracelets for the Dude's mom and stepmom. And we did a corny Christmas photo shoot for framing as a secondary gift-type thing.

My brother is all that's left. He wants toiletries or other such practical things. Easy enough. But I keep avoiding the task. It's the only gift that involved me doing anything outside the house. I keep thinking how cold and unpleasant it is out there and then I put it off. What the hell is that about? I mean, other than the obvious fact that working from home has made me grown soft.

I'm beginning to see why people who work from home get dressed. I never do, and I think it's the snuggly pyjama feeling that keeps me indoors so much, now combined with an aversion to the cold and slush. Getting dressed means you're serious about doing something with your day. Staying in PJs means fuck it.

In past years when I had more to buy, I'd go out and get everything done in one shot after careful planning about what I'd buy and where. I'd come home with a sense of accomplishment. Thanks to reduced Christmas shopping needs and the internet, that's just not happening this year.

I have a few days left to make it happen. I'll get it done. I have to, otherwise I'm a bad sister.

Christmas cards

I'm doing Christmas cards. In years past it was so easy. Now it's a lengthy process. It's not just the gathering of addresses either, though that has been a task of the ages (as I broke my hard drive and lost my entire address book). I write personal messages in each one. I don't enjoy only signing my name and then sending it off. I don't like the cards to speak for me. If I'm sending someone mail, surely I have got something of my own to say. But this task has grown since the Dude entered my life in a serious fashion. And now since his family will be my family, I'm sending cards to his loved ones, too.

Now, he's not leaving it all to me. He gathered all the addresses for me, bought the stamps and mailed them out. He's on his way out soon to buy some more, because 24 wasn't enough to get all our families and social circle covered. What do you get when two people from Catholic families get engaged? Gigantic Christmas card lists. And an even bigger guest list for the wedding. Dear me. But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Last year I made my own. So I had to get particular about who I sent them to because I had roughly a dozen of them. Then people were bummed out not to get a card, so I had to nix that idea this year, and forevermore until I can find the time to handcraft about 30+ cards. One thing that generally spurns me on to send them at all is that people really seem to genuinely enjoy the cards. I get comments on it all the time.

And I think that says a lot about a few things in general:

One, people love getting cheerful things in the mail. Two, people feel special when you make things personal, and Three, no one ever gets handwritten anything anymore. No one sends letters. And I think that's what got me going in the first place. And what kills me is how much my penmanship has suffered. I didn't really learn to type till I was 14, and didn't have a computer in my house till I was 15. I wrote everything. And I think most people have gotten out of the habit of handwriting. One more reason it's so important to try.

If there's any time to revive old cherished forms of communication and to go out of your way to do something a little special, Christmas is the time. I never want to feel too busy to do it. I don't think I will. It makes me really happy.

Traditions

I've been thinking about Christmas. I had some really nice ones when I was a kid. No sob stories here. Some people hate Christmas because of bad holiday memories from their childhood. I had a lot of fun.

My parents always warned me not to expect too much. I think perhaps when I was very young there may have been lots of presents. When I was 8, our family finances underwent some changes. Single parent households aren't typically rolling in money, but job loss can stretch things tighter.

But I never noticed fewer presents, really. I mean, there were fewer, technically, but I think what made the difference was my brother and I didn't feel our holiday was lacking. We had traditions. There was my father's family, over 20 people, packing into my grandma and granpa's post-war six-room house's living room. Exactly seven places to sit. Get up to go to the bathroom and you lost your spot. Those were fun Christmas eves.

There was Christmas eve before bed, my brother and I doing our pyjama race to see who could open their Christmas eve present first. There was waking up to a stocking in our beds and the rule of waiting till 7:00 to wake up Mom. There were always new movies and the yearly debate and squabble over which one we'd watch first.

Then breakfast. Then Grammy and Poppie's for dinner and more presents. Mom had a rule that we were only to get clothes, as they were needed. So we weren't wild over them, because kids never see the value in clothes, but we loved our family. Our closest cousins would be there and we'd play and swap stories.

Leading up to Christmas, my mom and I would go to one of her friend's for baking all kinds of holiday goodies that we'd stick in the freezer and bring out as needed: cookies, squares, cake, chocolate...

Things changed when we got older. Grammy passed. Then Grandpa five years later, and a year later my mother, and a year after that, Grandma. A lot of families fall apart after so many deaths, particularly when those deaths were of people who were like glue. But life marched on and Christmas evolved, not without sadness, but you find joy in the holidays where you can if you try.

And with the new Christmas locations to go to, different schedules and new significant others, things started to get sticky. My father played turf war over Christmas, which was needless to say a bad time for all. Did it with Thanksgiving, too. Any holidays you wished to include others or expand your repertoire of activities and visits he took as a personal affront. It doesn't make sense, so explaining it would be pointless, at least for today. So for a few years, Christmas was very unpleasant.

In the years we've been estranged, things have again grown into something cheerful and festive. And with a fiancee I've been with for four years, there's been some dividing up of holiday time to make sure we see everyone. And everyone does this. As you age, Christmas stops being about the presents and starts being about who you spend time with. I know a number of people my age still get presents, but that's dwindled for me for many years now and has almost reached nil.

There's a couple people I do exchanges with, but there's no actual "Christmas morning" type of thing in my life anymore. That part of my life has come to a close. And when I thought of how this year would be, waking up at my mother-in-law-to-be's house and eating breakfast, drinking coffee and being with the man I'm going to marry, I felt good.

And then we'll go to my aunt's (One of many aunts I always mention) for Christmas dinner and see about 25 of my relatives there. And then the next morning, it's off to the lake to see the Dude's dad and step mom. And there'll be questions about the wedding that I'll have answers to, and we'll eat festive things and sleep in and be cozy with warm drinks.

And I can look back on my mom and thank her for always making Christmas about family and tradition and the experience, and not the gifts. And traditions are important. Last year when my brother came up to spend Christmas with us after Jerry died, I laid a stocking out on his bed like our mom used to do when we were kids. In all honesty, I did it more for me than for me. You do little things to keep what and who matters alive how you can and where you can.

Day 1

I'm young, I'm childfree and I'm on vacation. So naturally, I slept in and have spent the morning on my laptop in bed. I have no real plans today. On one hand that's pretty awesome, as not working is delightful, but somehow I'm experiencing holiday guilt. You know, the kind where you have a stint of time off and you feel kind of bad about not being out there in the world doing something worthwhile with your time?

And I don't even mean charitable or anything. I mean like being out having fun outside or with friends or in a park or shopping or getting a manicure or at the beach or on a road trip-- you get the idea. Basically using my time off to enjoy myself doing things I would not normally do is what I feel like I ought to be doing, mostly because I'm already not terribly busy so doing nothing at all should not feel so damn good.

Only it does. I'm not very Type A, I never have been. I guess I'm not even Type A about fun. In any case, I have to conserve my monies a bit. I'm still paying off Smokey's vet bill, $1,100 more to go, and Mexico, about $550 more to go. Funny thing about Mexico is I'll probably experience the same do-nothing guilt, as I do enjoy just sitting by a pool with a book and a drink, and not necessarily playing games, surfing, or touring local towns.

What I may do is buy some new slippers. Smokey, in his infinite love for me, took a dump inside my last pair. Yes, inside. I found out when I put my foot inside the slipper. I only have two questions: How did he manage that? And what did I do to him? Anyway, the slippers were so old and tattered that they didn't survive the washing machine.

Regardless of my lacklustre approach to time off, day 1 of booked vacation is under way. The only thing I can say for sure about today is that I may get dressed. Maybe.

The Brown Thumb

It's the May two-four, the late Queen Victoria's birthday, who's ultimate legacy here in Canada is a number of fairly important thing, but mostly a day off and an excuse to buy fireworks you don't know how to operate properly. What's a young Canadian couple to do? Well, like the name suggests, you can pick up a two-four (That's a case of beer for those of you not in the know) like the 19+ year old crowd do and go camping. You could do like the 30+ year old crowd with children do and scout the community for activities. Or you could do what the 40+ year old homeowners do and start your gardening.

Know what big plans the Dude and I have? We're going to plant tomatoes and peppers on our deck. It's hard not to feel fuddy-duddy old, but we hate camping, don't drink beer, don't have a cottage, don't have children and frankly, we enjoy fresh vegetation in our stirfry and I heart toasted tomato sammiches. Though if there were a cottage at our disposal, hot damn, would I be there. Maybe next year.

Thing about this pot-o'-veg-on-the-deck venture is that I have a bit of a brown thumb. I like the idea of gardening far more than actual gardening itself. I've never had a flare for it.

I begged my mother to let me plant carrots and pumpkins in the backyard when I was wee. The carrots never were harvested. I don't know what happened, but I couldn't really get them dug out. They seemed stuck in the earth and then I thought something had gone terribly wrong. Like maybe they grew attached to some pipes or something. Hey, I was 8 and had an overactive imagination and no upper body strength. So they stayed there and perished at some point.

The pumpkin flourished. And then the vine took over the yard. We had a small lot and my mother enjoyed flowers and this pumpkin vine was making itself too cozy near all her hard work and closing off a walkway. So she had me rip it out before any pumpkins could bloom. Which is really too bad because it's the only thing I've ever managed to make grow, and I still wound up killing it, and on purpose.

My mom often had me help her plant her flowers each year. And I would and I'd water the gardens every day. I felt I was being very helpful one day when I saw some strange looking greenery growing alongside the house in a place I'd never seen anything grow before, and took the liberty of plucking them from the ground. My mom's afternoon work was destroyed.

She had a real green thumb, often pruning other gardens when she saw it was needed. We'd be on our way into the grocery store and she'd stop and start pulling off the dead leaves and buds from Value-Mart's carnations. I didn't inherit this gift. Oh, I inherited a joy of picking at stuff, but not limited to things that ought to be picked, and rather aimed anything that can be picked and perhaps should be left alone.

But today we're going to give it a go. The Dude is out collecting the soil, pots and supports and such while I stay to shower and get ready for the day. Then we'll go select our seedlings, who don't realize it yet, but their lives will now hang in the balance of luck, a poor record of gardening and my good intentions.

And maybe we'll also grab some brunch. Happy May two-four!