Monday, December 31, 2012


2012  is over today. It has been a fantastic year. When I look back, I can't think of anything I didn't love about 2012.

Except the morning sickness. And fat ankles. And I now have 3 chins - yay for pregnancy. And too many poosplosions to count (including one massive one today - great job on the 2 servings of beans, mom!). And the fits. And learning to open doors. And running away from me in stores (she never stays with me). And some friend fights. And the worst winter in a long time. And Bauer spending 2 days at the vet for dehydration (darn foxtails!). My dad's heart issues. Ryan's dad's health issues. And ... and....

But in 2012 we went to Hawaii. We watched my parents renew their vows after 35 years together. We celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary. I have some amazing friends. I got too many toddler smiles to count. Toddler hugs. Giggle fits. Walks. Kisses. "I love you"'s. Summer (ahh, summer...). Halloween. Christmas. The Baby & Me 2nd Annual Christmas party. Finding out we were pregnant with #2.

2012 was pretty darn awesome.

But now let's discuss.... toddler jokes.

Toddler jokes aren't funny. They're hilarious. I don't know if they're hilarious because they're our kids so we think anything they do or say is the funniest thing ever, or if they truly are legitimately funny.

I am forced to side with the latter; toddlers, particularly mine, are legitimately funny.

Unfortunately, we don't understand 80% of what Aryn is saying so her toddler jokes are just babbling with her laughing hysterically at the end... which makes us laugh. Toddler jokes are the best. And I can't wait til they start making a bit more sense in 2013.


Do you ever wish you could change just one thing about your kid?

Just one.

I am sure we all wish we could. I mean, I'm sure the lady in Wal-Mart today with her kid laying on the floor kicking and screaming his little head off would love to change that feature about her child.

And I, ashamingly, have one as well.

I would love to make Aryn stop throwing up whenever she cries.

I don't even know why she does it. She rarely gets into trouble, but when I am trying to get her to do something that she doesn't particularly want to do, she begins to cry with fake crocodile tears, then the gagging starts and then - bam!

Throw up.

I don't even particularly mind that she gags when she cries; I do it too, all the time. But I wish she'd find a safe place to fake throw up. Like... not in her bed. Or, not on the carpet. Or, not all over my brand new pants.

So my New Year's resolutions this year are:

1. Teach kid not to throw up when she's crying.
2. Start to enjoy pregnancy. (bwahahahha)
3. TBD

I want a good one for this year. Like less Facebook time, more baby time. Less phone time, more baby time. Less computer time, more baby time. Go for more walks. Less celebrity gossip. Stop caring more about what people are writing online than what my kid is saying in person. These are things that are common sense, but it's an addiction. One I intend to break this year.

Not that I'll have much time with 2 kids!!

Have a fantastic New Year, everyone! May 2013 bring more happiness, more smiles, more love and more joy than any previous year.


Friday, December 28, 2012

Christmastime Scrooge

*Pre-Post Comment: I did not edit the photos... I did not put my "logo" on my photos... I'm a lazy mess today!

There are going to be a huge abundance of "Christmas" posts in the blogosphere. And I will join the ranks.

Normally, every year, I am a human elf, decorating in mid-November, running around with gifts and decorations and a ridiculous smile on my face that just screams, "Merry Christmas!" I love Christmas, and I don't care who knows it. If someone is frowning on the street, I give them a huge smile and a friendly "hello!" I leave candy canes on windows and buy the meal for the person behind me in line at Tim Horton's - every time. I wear red and green and ridiculous decoration earrings. I carefully wrap each well-thought gift and make sure every person in my life has one.


This year, I dreaded Christmas. I was sick, Aryn was sick, Ryan was getting sick, it was -4000 degrees, I didn't get our decorations out until a week before Christmas and our tree was put up unseasonably late. I forgot to buy for at least 8 people, including the moms in my baby group; I even forgot to buy for our dog groomer until she gave her gift to me. I angrily glared at everyone who hadn't shovelled their sidewalks, and flipped off anyone who cut me off on the beyond-icy roads.

I don't even have an excuse. The season of "morning sickness" seems to have passed, even though smelly diapers still throw me into a gagging fit of despair. I am getting fat, which is a perfect excuse to fill my face with every kind of food I see, yet instead I am grossed out by everything from salty to sweet to fattening to healthy. Food = blech. Aryn was a blast at Christmas, opening all the gifts and for some reason I smacked her little hand away every time she tried to open one of my gifts.

That's mine, kiddo. You have 8 billion other gifts to open. Step away from my new sweat pants.


Speaking of sweat pants, I'm in transition. None of my regular shirts fit any more. I can pretend they do, but they don't. I can look at myself in the mirror, suck in my stomach and think, "I don't look pregnant!" but the second I catch a quick un-sucking-in glance at myself all hope is lost. Pregnancy clothes it is.

And all of my pregnant-with-Aryn clothes are summer clothes. They don't cut it in -4000 degree weather.

It's not that I hate pregnancy clothes... I just hate how they make you look pregnant. And $30 for a tank top that is bunched on the sides instead of $8 at Wal-Mart seems ridiculous to me, so I tend to continue choosing the L and XL sizes instead of just spending the extra money on a M or S at Thyme Maternity.

Wait... this post was about Christmas...


All in all, we had a fantastic Christmas. We spent 1 night at Ryan's parent's place because of our sicknesses and we woke up bright and early Christmas morning to an abundance of gifts. Everyone was spoiled and everyone left happy, grateful, and, in true Diana fashion, over-the-top-fed. Aryn looooooves her cousins and is always sad when we leave. If it weren't for the -4000 degree weather, we could have had more fun outdoors, but you do what you can. We played cards, drank Bailey's, and sang Christmas carols around the piano in the living room.



Then we spent Christmas day evening at my parents place for a fantastic turkey dinner (I can't lie; not being a vegetarian any more really has been a mealtime blessing this Christmas!), and Boxing Day morning at our house opening more gifts, having a huuuge breakfast and watching Brave 3 times in a row. Literally. I am not exaggerating.


We truly had a fantastic Christmas. And it's our last Christmas before Baby #2 makes his/her appearance and we spend next Christmas as a family of 4 + Bauer for the first time. It's exciting and terrifying!

I hope you all had a fantastic Christmas as well and will have an even better 2013!


And, for your entertainment, my child singing:

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Single mom life

Ryan has been gone this week. He was called up to work North of Fort McMurray. They were supposed to be gone Friday-Monday. It is now Wednesday.

What does that mean?

My kitchen pretty much resembles this:

And my bathrooms pretty much are the epitome of this:

Ok... so it may not be that bad. But believe me when I say: as the least neat freak of the two of us, when I don't like how the house looks, you know it's messy.

Ryan is supposedly coming home tomorrow and as his apology for being away for a whole week, instead of "buying me something pretty", he is on bathroom duty. And post-bathroom duty, do you know what we can do?


The "cheesy grin" is back!

My friends Megan and Alex invited us over for supper last night since we've been alone for so long (which was such a blessing because I was literally about to take out the box of Annie's Mac & Cheese for the 3rd day in a row. I am a horrible cook when I'm tired).Their invitation was a true and utter blessing and a reminder of what amazing friends we have, but it was not a real play date. Aryn played with the cat. Adalynn ate everything in sight. We haven't had a real bonafide play date with our baby group in awhile. I want to create one, but I can't stand the idea of people coming to my house at this point. It's messy. People will leave thinking, "I need to go home and shower to get that house off of me" or, "Denise is disgusting."

The latter is the worst of the two thoughts.

Photobucket Photobucket
To go with my "disgusting" theme, these are two photos of my kid picking her nose. One with her finger, one with the end of a paint brush. Why not? 

Why don't you clean? you ask. First of all, shut up. Second of all, it's deadline week. I have a toddler. Bauer pees outside 15,000 times a day. Oh and he needs to eat and drink too. And I'm pregnant. And I just got a new phone that requires hours of playtime and investigation.

These are all very legitimate excuses.

Speaking of my new phone, it's fantastic. I now have Instagram, and cool features like being able to check Pinterest without getting computer-blocked by my toddler. It's fantastic, except I find myself missing the easiness of the blackberry and the ability to text without clicking the wrong letters every.single.time. I've even made some good autocorrect mistakes. I hope to one day make one so good it ends up on Ellen.


In light of what happened in CT on Friday, I felt like I had to do something good to counteract the misery. I am fairly certain I cried all weekend. So, I posted on the garage sale sites on Facebook that I want to take a collection to the women's shelter. I expected 2 or 3 people to get back to me.


This was the back of my vehicle. Jam packed with items for people. It goes pretty deep in there and it also rests on the middle seat, next to Aryn. I have to admit: it felt good. Not as good as if the Friday attack had never happened, but it was one small step for mankind.

In Aryn news, she has become quite the talker. Everyone said, "one day, she's going to open her mouth and just keep talking!" Well, they were right. English has made its way (mostly) to my kid. It's bizarre. She knows a lot, and when you point at colours and say, "Which one is *this colour*?" she knows and she knows all the animals in the world but she just can't say everything yet. But it's coming. And since beginning to really talk, she has turned into a totally different kid.

Our days are filled with her smiles. When I get frustrated with her, she brings out the big guns and sends out a full on Academy Award performance that just screams "I have the worst life ever!" She is bossy. Everything is "mine." Sharing is not her fortay. She is hilarious and laughs hysterically at her hilarious jokes that I just don't get because she leaves out 80% of the correct words and letters. She is affectionate - she gives me hugs and kisses ALL day long. She gives everyone lots of hugs - and loves it. She is an amazing mommy to her babies. She is so nice to Bauer. She loves kitties and all puppies. She is so nice to people and says "hello" and "goodbye" and "thank you" and "no thank you" and "please" every chance she gets. And she listens - not all the time, mind you, but she listens. Today we went to a quick meeting for my work and she sat there, quiet, on the chair, cheering me on every time I smiled!

Me: "Oh thank you so much!"
Customer: "Oh not a problem at all!" *we both smile*
Aryn: "Yay mommy!"
Me: "Well we'll see you soon! Thanks again for everything!"
Aryn: "Yay mommy!"

Be still, my heart.


Yes, there are times when I'm frustrated and annoyed with her, but the amount she has grown up in the last 2 weeks reminds me that every day she is becoming more and more of the person she will become one day and I am so excited to see who she will be... and I am even more excited to say that I really believe I'm going to like the person she becomes. Because I love surrounding myself with great friends, great people, a great job, and lots of happiness and love. And when you have a kid who is an epitome of all of that... it really excites me to think of what her future holds.

As long as the world doesn't end on Friday. Fingers crossed.


Saturday, December 15, 2012


In light of what happened in Newtown yesterday, I can't help but wonder what a parent can do while raising a child to create an adult able to do such a horrendous thing, such as killing anyone - let alone children. What was done to those who sexually abuse? What was done to those who abuse women?

I yelled at Aryn this morning. Why? Because she was eating dog food. Then she left the dog food and proceeded to lick the window on our shelving unit. Then she walked over to her table and flipped it on its side. Then she threw her boots straight across the room. Then she tried to hit Bauer. Then she dumped all of her toys on the floor.

She was, by all accounts, a human tornado. Destruction was eminent in her path.

So, in my frustrated, pregnant mess of a mom, I yelled at her. I yelled at her to stop, to take a break, to calm down, to throw me a fricken bone.

I'd like to think the dramatic, "Oh my goodness, my mom is the meanest mom EVER" Academy Award performance displayed by my child does not mean that one day she will take another human life. I like to think when she gets in trouble for licking the bugs off the front of the car, she won't one day end up in a straight jacket in an insane asylum (although, I'm pretty sure licking dead bugs would be classified as "insane." Even by 2-year old qualifications.)

So what causes this kind of action? I read the mother of the killer was a gun nut. I read the mother of this crazed boy took her kids to gun practice. Does this account for his actions? Does teaching a child how to shoot a gun one day teach them it's ok to kill 18 children?

I sure as hell hope not.

The old adage, "Guns don't kill people, people kill people," is getting on my nerves. Someone walking into a school carrying a fist of rage or a pocket knife is going to kill a lot less people than walking into a school carrying 3 loaded guns. Are we coming to an age where we need to add metal detectors at every public door? I won't lie; I'm nervous to go to a movie theatre, the mall, the store, a school... in fear that someone I love could be shot. And that's the key word: shot. I'm not scared of someone walking into a theatre and yelling at me. Guns do kill people; they're just held by people who want to kill these people.

Yes, guns kill people; and so do vehicles, and fists, and knives, and planes, and falling down the stairs. My daughter's Barbie got decapitated by being thrown in a fit of rage when I wouldn't get her have a third candy cane. I am sick of humans blaming death on something else. It's always something else's fault. Someone else's fault. It's never YOUR fault.

Sure, you were molested as a child. That's not an excuse for molesting other children. So you were beaten as a child, that doesn't give you the right to beat your wife. I don't think my daughter decapitating her Barbie means one day she will decapitate a human being. And, with shifty eyes, I am praying these words don't one day come back to bite me. Oh and biting; that's a whole other subject but one I don't feel has any merit on future psychotic tendencies.

My heart is broken for everyone in Newtown and all of the families of those lost. I can't imagine my daughter's bedroom being empty and it pains me to think that, since we don't know what will happen in the future, it could happen one day. I can't protect her in a bubble. I can't homeschool her just because I'm terrified that she could get murdered in school. I can't keep her locked up in the basement because I'm scared of drunk drivers or idiots who drive erratically. I can't protect her little life, and as much as that scares me, it's a reality I must face. All I can do is show her every day that I love her unconditionally, even when she's destroying everything in her path, and teach her about God so that she has a beautiful future.


Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Potty Training

Let's discuss potty training.

Potty training a toddler is, in my opinion, directly comparable to trying to teach Bauer to ONLY poop on the front lawns of the rude refuse-to-shovel-their-sidewalks home owners in my neighbourhood. Neither can be done, but I certainly try on a regular, daily basis.

You name the suggestion that worked for you, I've tried it. Stickers, new potties, Smarties, cheering, dancing, singing, fancy shmancy panties, naked time, grown-up toilet seats just for her, making Ryan help her with it, closing the door (for privacy)... I could go on and on. We have tried everything.

Mind you, I haven't stuck to any one ideology, because, quite frankly, the kid isn't ready. She is too active, she is too busy running around like a crazy maniac hopped up on sugar to actually stop and think, "do I need to pee?"

And having a 2-year old just not ready to be potty trained is just fine. I can say honestly she has never had a UTI, or any issues with her bladder or bowels. She is healthy and happy, and if our biggest "complaint" with her is that she's still costing us $15.99 a month on environmentally-friendly diapers, then so be it. It's better than doing 15 loads of wash a day with pee-and-poop-filled clothes.

I took her to Walmart the other day, and showed her the Wall of Panties. I have never seen a bigger selection, and I shop at Victoria's Secret on a regular basis. I am not certain why a child of 8 needs "sexy panties" or thongs; yet there they were, in pink purse-like packages with lace and polka dots. Aryn will be wearing granny panties until she is 45; I guarantee it.

She picked the kitties (Hello Kitty), who she's seriously obsessed with at this point. She held on to that panties purse throughout the entire store. She was so proud, and embarrassingly showed it off to everyone. We got home, she helped me throw them in the wash (after taking off every single little piece of plastic holding every single panty securely to the purse-packaging said panties come in... seriously, Hello Kitty creators... why do you hate mothers so much? Is charging $9 for 6 pairs of panties not enough, that you need to make it an Olympic sport to remove them from the stupid purse, that I'm sure cost three times as much as all 6 pairs of panties together?)

Once out of the dryer, I asked Aryn if she wanted to wear them. She said no. Awesome.

She then stole the panties, brought them to her babies, and put every single pair on a different baby. 6 stuffed babies wearing toddler panties. Real child: in a leaking pee-filled diaper.

Our potty training experiences have been exciting, to say the least. We've had a bottom-free day where she sat up against the bathroom door and pooped on the floor. It was everywhere except the toilet, which was literally mere inches from her poop-covered leg. She's hidden behind couches and peed... keep in mind, we have 4 washrooms in this house and they are all within 5 feet of every couch we own. Yet there she was, peeing on the hardwood and splashing her foot in it.

This morning, after she woke up and I was changing her 15lb diaper, I asked if she wanted to go naked that morning. She jumped up, all excited (as was I! Finally!), ran to her closet, grabbed a diaper, threw it at me, laid down and ordered it to be put "On, mommy." Guess that's a no, then...

Said kid puts her babies on the toilet daily, and she cheers for them when they "pees" or "poops". She changes their diapers, she makes them wear her panties, she asks them constantly if they need to "potty." Her stuffed babies are fantastic at potty training; they've never had a pee-filled diaper or an accident to date! Aryn is a better mom than her own mom. Note to self: only give birth to fake stuffed elephants and bunny dolls.

Then, you turn around, ask the same kid who is potty training her babies if we can put her on the potty. One of two things normally happens:

1. She gets put on the potty, only to scream and cry until she convinces me to take her off.

2. She runs away, screaming and crying like I just kicked her in the shins, hides behind the couch, yells "No potty, mommy! No poops!" then stops, red-faced and grunting...

Aaaaand off to another diaper change. I hope I don't throw up this time.


see how her babies are on the "potty"??

Sunday, December 2, 2012

The tree is (finally?) up

Every year, Ryan has to fight me to keep me from putting up decorations and the tree before November 12th. In fact, I normally want to start decorating November 1st... but I hold off until after Remembrance Day. This year, I don't know if it's the nausea or the horrendous weather we've been dealt with, but this year it's December 2 and we just put our tree up... and I still don't feel like "Christmas."


This is our last Christmas with just Aryn. Mind you, with the world supposedly ending in a couple of weeks, we may not even get our last Christmas with just Aryn. I hope the world holds off on its demise.

Tonight we put up the tree. Our stockings were put up the other day, with other random Christmas decor that I realize I have way too much of. It's been too cold to decorate the outside so everything is still nicely in its "outdoor box" sitting by the front door, just waiting for a break from the snow and cold. It was supposed to come yesterday... but instead, it snowed blizzard-like for 2 straight days. Thanks, David Spence. (For those of you who aren't local, David Spence is the local meteorologist... who is rarely ever right.)

So we decorated the tree today. Aryn only broke one decoration, and I'm very happy about that. Thankfully, it was one of her decorations and it was ugly. So it wasn't a hard pill to swallow.


Aryn woke up from her nap and saw the tree standing there in our living room and exclaimed, "Mommy! Woah! Mommy!" And then immediately made Ryan come help her look at it closer. This is what Christmas is about.


We discovered that, at 2 years old, Aryn kind of sucks at putting up decorations. 15 decorations were on the same branch, one on top of another. By the time we noticed, the branch was pretty much touching the floor. She did not want me "fixing" or "helping" her to move said decorations to other branches... so I bribed her with a cream cheese cupcake that Auntie Aleesha made and fixed the tree.

Mama likes a nice tree, kid.


Aryn even put up the star... I only have "before" photos because I had to come to their aide and take the star away. Toddlers and star tops do not mix.


This is Aryn looking at a Bauer ornament. She sure loves that jerk dog.

So the tree is up, the stockings are hung, the decorations litter the house, and hopefully soon our outdoors will also look like a magical bright-over-done-coloured Griswald house. Here's to hoping.


Here's to a fantastic Christmas season... and here's to the world not ending! Can I hear a "woot woot!"?


Thursday, November 29, 2012


I have not been taking photos again. Why? Because with my good ol' Ginger Snap Photography thing I have going "on the side", I have been too busy taking photos of other people's lives than my own. It has been fantastic, exhausting, exhilarating, and I have learned a new term for the word "proud". I am honestly proud of what I have been doing; and I know I can get so much better.


Life here has been fantastic. Aryn is growing up and changing every single day, it's mind boggling. She is learning new words daily and has really taken to trying to speak real words.

The other morning, she asked for "tsht." 5 minutes and 300 "what?!"'s later, I figured it out: she wanted toast for breakfast. And when I said the words, "ohhh, you want toast!" she excitedly exclaimed "YEAH!" and hopped up and down - so happy that mommy understood her.

She asks for Neno (Nemo) 300 times a day. And good ol' Dody (Dory), of course.

Oh and don't forget snow. "Mommy! Nosh!"
Me: "Yes, Aryn - that's snow. Ssss....ssssss...SNOW."
Aryn: "Ssssss... ssssss.... ssssnosh!"
Close enough.

She wants "teeeeeea" in her "cups" every single day, and all of her "babies" have to be in attendance. Cats are now "kitty";s, rather than "meow"'s. Cows are "cows" rather than "moos." She exclaims at every "caw" (car), and "puppy" (she refuses to call Bauer by his name, and only refers to him as "puppy"), and has random names for all of her friends (Anna is "Annie", auntie Cathy is "Annie", Keegan is "Keekee", etc. You get the picture).


And my favourite:

Me: "Aryn, what's your name?"
Aryn: (pointing at herself) "I'm Baby."
Me: "Yes, Aryn, you're the baby. But what is your name?"
Aryn: (point at herself) "Baby."

So we are trying to refrain from calling her "baby" (which we have discovered we do a lot) and referring to her only as "Aryn". All the books say a kid learns to say their name first, usually. Well... if her name was Baby, that would be true for us. And no one puts Baby in a corner.

We also took our family Christmas photos last weekend in a quick 30-second photoshoot with my best friend Aleesha (or, as Aryn calls her, "Sheesha") who snapped my camera for these pictures. While I may not be so happy with how I look, the rest of the family looks perfect so that's all that matters. And, in my pregnant stance, there is no photo I would have been happy with.


Oh, by the way. Baby is doing awesome; very chill, very relaxed, the opposite of its sister. Aryn had a heartbeat of 164 and we didn't get many great photos because she was bouncing around everywhere at every ultrasound. Funny... she's still like that. This kid? It just sits there, chilling in its barkalounger, sucking its thumb, with a heartbeat of 130. Mama was nervous at that heartbeat but apparently it's very much "normal". This is going to be one chill kid. And I am hoping beyond all hope that it is a fantastic sleeper as well. Karma can hit me twice, thankyouverymuch.


Friday, November 16, 2012


I'm pretty amazed so far at the differences between this pregnancy and my last one; Aryn. I'm not saying this means I'm having a boy, and I don't know if it means anything. I know people with two extremely different pregnancies and both kids are the same sex. Every pregnancy is different, and I am not sure what it means.

With Aryn, I was sick until 24 weeks. And I mean, gagging, nauseous, must-have-a-flavoured-drink-with-me-at-all-times-or-else kind of sick. I couldn't pick up Bauer's *ahem* droppings on walks. No one thing made me nauseous - smells didn't bother me; it was just life in general that threw me off. I stuffed my face every chance I got because food = less nausea. I was getting up at 2am to eat a bowl of Cheerios. I was constantly starving. I was taking 2 Diclectin a day, and it helped and I could get through a day just fine. I was exhausted and always wanting to sleep. And, I was ridiculously excited for my impending parenthood.

This time, I'm 12 weeks now and I'm off Diclectin and only have little bouts of nausea. Bauer is no problem... it's random smells that set me off, and when they do, watch out. In the throws of the crazy nausea, I was taking 4 Diclectin just to survive the day. I had never, in my life, been that sick with nausea before - but it only lasted 4 weeks (although it seemed like it would last forever). Smells - anything from cooking beef, to the cows outside, to a weird smell in the furnace ducts, to Aryn's diapers (pee and poop) throw me into a fit of gagging. And food - the less food I eat, the better I feel. The less my stomach is full, the better I can make it through the day. Food is my ally. Yet, the saltier the food, the better I feel. Even now! And I can't sleep; I'm up randomly throughout the night and I can't seem to nap during the day. And I'm terrified of my impending second round of parenthood. I laughed writing that.

I am not complaining; many women wish with all their hearts they could get pregnant and cannot. I am fortunate that we are able to be in the position we're in right now. Pregnancy is difficult for some women. And I envy those women who have beautiful pregnancies with glowing skin and perfect little basketball bellies. In fact, part of me hates them. There; I said it.

In Aryn news, she is a ball of red-headed entertainment lately. She is really picking up on this "speaking" thing, although we still don't understand everything she's saying.

"Wash" is giraffe. (duh!)
"Nosh" is snow.
She calls my dad, "Bob." Not Grandpa Bob; just "Bob."
I'm "Nise." Sometimes, I get "Mommy Nise." Thanks, kid.
"Puppy" is Bauer. She will not call him Bauer.
"Boo" is blue. Although, it seems every colour in the house is "boo."
"Cowsh" is cows, naturally.
"Moo" is her cow toque.
"Vroom vroom" is all vehicles.
"Boops" is boots.
"Carsh" is our car.
(do you see a pattern with the "sh" sound? Haha!)
And we hear lots of "No poops, mommy. No peeps, mommy." This kid does not want to be potty trained.

But she did sit on the floor in the bathroom with the door closed, bare naked, and pooped on the floor. Then, when I opened the door, it pushed the poop all over the floor. It was awesome. I'm still happy about that story. Do you note the sarcasm?

She is hilarious and entertaining. She loves movies, particularly "Neno" (Finding Nemo) - and "Buddy" (Open Season). I personally don't like Open Season at all, but the kid loves the animals. She is also starting to like "Kitty" (Monsters Inc.), which I fully support cuz that movie is fantastic. I wonder if she'd like Bugs Life...... I may have to buy that one. These movies sure help during my "off" nausea days! And while making supper, which I have had to start doing every day since Ryan isn't home until 6 now with his new job.

Let me tell you; I do not enjoy it! And, I have also learned that I am an awful cook.

Again, I have no photos to share. I am really slacking in the photo department. I just can't seem to remember to bring my camera anywhere. Maybe I'm more tired than I thought!

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Tea party

Yesterday was an awful day. Aryn woke us up bright and early, and I laid in bed with my eyes closed, and I told Ryan 'today is going to be an awful day.' I was right.

I stood up to go to the bathroom and the world moved from under me. I ended up on my butt for the rest of the day, with cold chills, achy body, and throwing up everything I could get past my lips; including water.

I had the flu shot on Wednesday, and I suspect it was from that. Yes, I got the flu shot. All the anti-vaccine people can give me the stink eye and the "how could you do that?" attitude. I don't really care; I believe in vaccines. Not even 80 years ago, there were no vaccines and kids were killed by crazy diseases like measles and rubella. Guess what? Those diseases aren't around much any more. Why? Because of vaccines.

We got the vaccine is because Aryn gets febrile seizures. But the repercussions of the vaccine were terrible and I will never get another flu shot again.


So this morning, when I woke up (again before 7am thanks to that good ol' time change and a toddler who doesn't understand time changes), I wanted to take advantage of feeling about a million times better by soaking up all the Aryn I could. And she was having none of it; she's bored being locked in the house when it's -20C outside. She's bored playing with all the same toys. She's bored with life and us asking her every 5 minutes, "Do you need to go pee? Do you need to go poop?"

"No poops, mommy. No pees, mommy."

So, in my last attempt to entertain her, I set up a tea party.


And it was wonderful.


We invited her babies... her two red-headed cabbage patch dolls, and her peacock whose face could barely reach over the table.


Aryn poured water for all of them, and gave each an animal cracker... she ate everyone's crackers.


She mostly just played in the water and poured it all over the floor and her babies, but heck... it's just water. These were bona fide memories we were making.


She drank everyone's water, and poured them more. She shoved pieces of cookies in each of their mouths and then stole it back to shove into her own mouth.



And the girls were just as happy to be guests.


It was a great morning of healthy, diarrhoea-and-vomit-free fun.


And while I was too scared to take her into public just "in case" for the Remembrance Day ceremony, we celebrated in our own way. This household is so grateful for all the men and women who fought for us in every war and cause so that we are free and safe in our home. It's because of you that we could have our fear-free tea party this morning. And for that, we are eternally grateful. Lest we forget. 


Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Pregnancy & Arynisms

There are two kinds of pregnant women. There are the women who get "the glow", who walk through the mall with an excited smile, knowing the child they are growing will one day become Prime Minister. They are the women who take pregnancy photos, of tiny bumps in super tight tank tops and their fingers making hearts over their belly buttons. They are the women who don't look pregnant from behind, and exercise throughout their entire pregnancy. They are the women who have mild morning sickness, and no Braxton Hicks.

Then there are the women, who, about 30 seconds after they see the "plus" sign on the pregnancy test become best friends with their toilet for 3/4 of the pregnancy, who look 8 months pregnant at 12 weeks, who expand in areas they didn't know existed, get stretch marks that look like they were attacked by 300 cats, and curse God for making pregnancy 40 weeks of misery.

I am the latter.

When you know women who just can't get pregnant, no matter how hard they try, it's tough to say out loud that "pregnancy sucks." But... for some women, it does. My friend and I have been texting each other all of our pregnancy despairs. Both of us wanted so many children; neither of us have good pregnancies and therefore will most likely not ever do this again. Ever.


And we walk around the mall, looking at those silly smirking, happy-to-be-pregnant women and secretly curse them with colic and diaper rashes. Because it's only fitting that after 40 weeks of misery, we should get the healthy babies and they should get the children who make them wish they hadn't gotten drunk a year earlier.

But, then, two years later, you seem to forget that horrible 40 weeks and start to think, "I could do this again." Even when you read your previous blog posts about how awfully, disgustingly sick you were, you still think, "I don't remember it being that bad."

So you try it again. And at precisely 6 weeks pregnant, all of those memories from 2 years earlier rush back and, while sitting on the bathroom floor heaving yesterday's supper, you scream at your husband, "I HATE YOU! I AM NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN! EVER!"

And to think I'm sitting here also thinking, "If this one is a girl.... should we have 3 kids and hope for a boy?"

Women be crazy.

But that's not what this blog post is about! It was meant to be about my child, who has become a crazy monster who has devoured my sweet, hugging perfection that was once my beautiful daughter.

You know those kids you see in the stores where you look pityingly at the mother and think, "My kid will never be like that. My child will never speak to me that way."

And then she learns to talk. And she does speak to you that way.

Last night, I asked Aryn if she wanted to have a bath. She excitedly ran to the stairs, while I lay on the floor, contemplating the lesser of the two evil jobs before me: bathe her, or take Bauer for a walk. I lost the bet and had to give her a bath. And she knew it.

"Come here, mommy. NOW. Mommy! Come NOW. Mommy, get up NOW!"

I looked terrifyingly at my toddler. Do I punish her? Do I laugh? Do I just concede?

I conceded. I listened to her demands and I followed her with my tail between my legs. I gots in trouble, and I didn't like it. I had better listen to everything she tells me in the future and always let her tell me what to do.

Today, everything is "mine." The diapers are "mine." The wipes are "mine." My Lululemon still pants are "mine." Yet none of it is really mine; "mine" means "hers." She is demanding it. She is becoming owner of everything in the house. Her poor little friend Keegan's monster trucks were hers. She would not let him play with anything. The paints were hers. Bauer is hers. Everything is hers.

I am scared of her.

But then, the little baby that was at our house for a total of 10 minutes this morning began crying, and Aryn rushed over to her like a quick little bunny, grabbed a blanket, patted her head, and whispered "shhhhhh" to her, and brought her a baby doll to check out. Aryn went from being the Hulk to a mother in 1.3 seconds flat. And it was beautiful, and sweet, and makes me think that we can do this Baby #2 thing. I'll have the best helper ever. Then, Aryn took the baby doll she brought over and chucked it straight across the room and looked at the poor, sweet baby with a look that said, "Ever cross me, and that's what'll happen to you."

My uterus hugged the poor little foetus growing inside and patted its head, with a very non-reassuring, "It sure sucks to be you."

It sure will, little one. I'm scared for you, and I'm scared for us.

Send help.


Sunday, November 4, 2012

The last few days...

Nothing much has happened the last few days, and I have no exciting stories except...


I thought this time was so much worse than when I was pregnant with Aryn. But, as I'm going through previous blog posts from when I was pregnant with Aryn, I've come to realize: I was super sick with her. There are major differences: like with Aryn, I couldn't stop eating. This time, the more I eat, the more nauseous I am. With Aryn, smells didn't bother me, only picking up Bauer's poop really got me. This time, smells, sights, food in general throws me off. With Aryn, it lasted about 22 weeks. This time... I don't want to think about how long this will last.


I truly thought I was not this sick with Aryn, and I'm a little discouraged to read that I truly was extremely sick with her. I remember figuring it out with her: bringing a bottle of flavoured water everywhere with me subsided the sickness, and got me through the day; and snacking always made me feel better. But I haven't figured out anything yet this time that makes me feel better. The only thing I have been able to eat in the last 2 weeks is peanut butter and banana on toast. Breakfast and supper... (I can't eat at lunch).


Some women have easy pregnancies, and go on to have more kids. Maybe this is nature's way of keeping the red head population at bay; make the mom's of redheads super sick so they never want to have another baby again. It's working, Mother Nature. It's working.

Regardless of the sickness, and the grumpiness that has come with it, and the very limited patience that I have, everything is going well. We haven't gotten to the "we're excited about this" stage yet... in fact, with many of our friends on to baby #2, we're terrified of that first year again, of no sleep, poosplosions, constant crying for no reason, etc. But we're also excited for all the wonderfulness that comes with a baby. A sweet, cuddly, perfect baby.

I just hope to never do this ever again. Ever.



Thursday, November 1, 2012


Last year, our feet were cold. We were wearing hoodies and 2 pairs of socks. The grass was green, there was no snow. Last year, our kids could barely walk and we had to carry them all to the doors, and we had to call out, "Trick or treat!"


This year was literally, word-for-word, the opposite of last year. We were cold all over. We were wearing winter coats, snow pants, boots, toques and gloves. There was over a foot of snow on every front lawn. And the kids walked up to every door, some called out "Trick or treat!" themselves.


If only it were warmer, I would have loved this Halloween so much more than last year. The kids were adorable, all dressed up in their super cute outfits, pretending for one day to to be an animal or superhero. They were proud of their buckets of candy, and loved going to each house, only to be given more. This year, they got it. They enjoyed it, and they froze for it.




I can't wait until next year!

Aryn went out with her little friends from baby group, and once again, I was reminded just how lucky I am to have such an amazing group of women to raise our kids with. We had a great time, and I learned three things:

1. Next year, bring a larger bag to dump the bucket of candy into.

2. Do NOT, ever, bring Bauer again. Ever.

3. Just let the kids walk. No more wagon.

2013 Denise: read those 3 posts. Even when you buy Bauer yet another super cute Halloween costume, do not bring Bauer. He barks and freaks at every house and person. DO. NOT. BRING. BAUER.


But we had fun. Ohh, did we have fun. So many rosy cheeked smiles, so much high-energy from the sugar rush. Aryn literally ran around the carpet in our living room 15 times in a row, after eating way more than her fair share of candy.



And thank you to all the parents out there who gave peanut-free chocolates. My baby thanks you.

Happy Halloween, all!