Our little elf

I picked up a seasonal topper for Tim at the dollar store today. He had it on for half an hour before a) I realized I should take a picture, and b) he realized he had it on. Of course, he realized he had a hat on his head the moment he saw me trying to take a picture. I was too quick for him, though!

But he continued to be cute for the rest of lunchtime.

Charades

When Tim turned 19 months and still wasn't saying any words, I figured I'd better teach him some sign language. McPie's band members had given us a baby signs book for a shower present before Tim was born, but I never really used it. I liked the idea, but could never remember the signs on the fly in order to use them and teach them when he was a baby. But as a toddler, Tim learned them faster than I did.

A month later, he speaks with his hands. Please, thank you, drink, eat, milk, cookie, more, all done, book, home, coat, hat, Wii, Mum, Dad, dirty, sit, look, ouch, dog, cat, bird ... and many more. Some are official (ASL) signs, and some are ones we've made up intuitively. He even signs when he wakes up in the middle of the night: "milk" and "please". First thing in the morning, he can't decide which he wants first, and signs both alternatively: "book!" "milk!" "book!" "milk!"

Tim does vocalize quite a lot (um, constantly... in fact, his sign for "drink" has a slurping sound effect), and seems to be -- maybe, finally -- on the verge of talking in words. Today, I found him on the couch holding a framed photo of McPie's mom (which he'd scoffed illicitly from an out-of-bounds shelf). I said, "Oh, you've found a picture of Nana." And Tim said "Nana!" I thought it might be a one-off, but it turns out that after some coaching, he got that it was a picture of Nana, and now he will say "Nana" when prompted. Finally, an actual word.

And Tim sings. He loves, loves, loves songs. Between us, grandparents, and the music class we attended in the spring and fall, we have a lengthy repertoire of kiddie songs (many of them singable nursery rhymes, you know the type), and he just LOVES songs. He has actions for all of them, to the extent that the action for songs have become the sign for the thing in the song when it's mentioned in a totally different context. And he's started singing along. Not in words -- just tunes.

Tonight, we celebrated the last Sunday of Advent. We're not a religious family, but over the past few years, we've developed a new tradition (in a patched-together family like ours, all the traditions are new) of getting together at alternating parents' houses for Advent Sunday suppers. (Then we spent Christmas Eve and Christmas morning together for supper and brunch.) One of the sub-traditions of Advent supper is that we sing Christmas carols around the dinner table as a prelude to dessert. The only family member not keen on this is Ben, who tends to mouth the words in a feeble attempt to earn his dessert. This year, Tim sang along. The only song he knew well was The Huron Carol (we have an illustrated book that he makes me sing to him a half dozen times a day), but after singing along to that one, he got into the swing of it and just sang along to most of the songs from his perch on Constance's lap.

It was pretty much the cutest thing ever.

For posterity

Constance started high school this September (in Quebec, high school = grades seven to ten). She was very anxious about starting, but it's been going well, to say the least. Just now, we are sitting at opposite ends of the dining table at our respective laptops, and had the following exchange:

H: "Uuuggh. Thank god for Friday."
C: "I'm not grateful for the weekend. I wish it was school."

Ah, the idealism of the young.

Big thanks, little thanks

We've just returned from celebrating Thanksgiving at my mother's place in the Annapolis Valley. What an amazing way to kick of the fall season. Although we rarely do any sightseeing when we visit, the farmhouse itself, the cozy company, delicious food, rural setting, and always-festive atmosphere (ie: cocktails served on the dot of noon) embodies the season of harvest and giving thanks for a bounteous year.

Of course, it was a ton of fun getting "the twins" together again. How awesome is it that Tim has a cousin exactly his age? Right now, I think the benefit is all for the parents. The boys seem to not mind each other, and are certainly enthusiastic about reuniting first thing in the morning, but the novelty wears a bit thin as the day wears on, and they're ready to get back to having the parents all to themselves. As the grow, their individual personalities are emerging clearly. Lucas is the wild man, always on the move, exuberant and enthusiastic, ready to have fun no matter what. Tim is a little more cautious, takes his time to check things out before diving in, is a little skeptical of strangers, likes his personal space, but still has a ready smile.

I found this picture, which pretty much sums them up.  (Note also that Lucas is not wearing pants. So like him.)

But ultimately, they got along well, and shared certain passions. Such as berries.

The only hitch in the vacation wasy the return odyssey. After arriving at the airport to return home, Air Canada first delayed our flight for over an hour, then cancelled it altogether. "Pick up your luggage from the carousel, and good luck!" We had to scramble to find another flight home. Note to Air Canada: "Ottawa via Toronto" is not a flight. It's a flight to Toronto, then another one to Ottawa. So rather than arriving home at 5 pm (perfect! Dinner time! Return to routine and a good night's sleep!), we arrived home at 2 am after two ups-and-downs, and five hours in various airports. It would've been easier to DRIVE home from Halifax.

On the up side, Sweetie McPie has aeroplan elite status thanks to his trips to China, so we got to chill in the Maple Leaf Lounge in Toronto. Tim chose those two hours to sleep, so we could really sit back and relax. It took a little work for McPie to convince me that you really could help yourself to anything at the bar, but I finally got the hang of it. Who can complain about unlimited access to Grand Marnier? Not I. Air Canada is forgiven, for now.

Slim Jim

The day after Tim turned 18 months, we went to see Dr. Oliver for his well-baby check up. Tim is extremely healthy (two colds and a couple of minor fevers so far; no allergies; no extra limbs), so scheduling this check up is mostly just for me to show him off to my doctor.

So, besides being an obvious genius, Tim measured in the 75th percentile for height, and the 25th for weight. He's a skinny minny! Or, as Dr. Oliver so astutely observed: you've got a runner there. No kidding? Where on earth would he get that from?

And seriously, this kid is all legs. He can scale vertical surfaces like nobody's business -- just swings one of them foot-long legs up and voila! He's on the dining room table. Or sitting on the barstool at the kitchen counter (which is where he insists on eating breakfast now -- a bowl of cereal or pb toast, depending on what his brother and sister on either side of him are eating.)

Language, on the other hand, is a bit more complicated. Although it's clear to me that he's a genius because he's created his own language, in which he chats constantly, Dr. Oliver says he's "delayed" because he doesn't say five words fairly clearly. I'm not sure what to think of this. Tim doesn't say any English or French words yet, but has many words, gestures, and facial expressions that he uses consistently for a variety of things to the extent that it's pretty easy to figure out what he's telling us or asking for. (Cutest: when he makes the motion of swinging a tennis racquet to indicate that he'd really like to play Wii. Which actually consists of Dad or Ben playing Wii golf or tennis and Tim watching, rapt.) And Tim often looks at us like we're just stupid when he babbles a question and we stare at him dumbfounded. Like "people! What about gaw-gi-gaw-gi buggla-bug don't you understand? I'd like to eat berries on the porch chair, duh!"

My theory is that he can't be bothered with these simple individual words and has skipped right to full sentences, existing language be damned.

Or he's delayed. Whatever. This weekend we're heading out to Nova Scotia, where Tim will hang with his cousin Lucas who has way more than five words in his English vocabulary. Maybe Tim will learn a thing or two (and maybe teach LuLu to scale hutch). Though from what I can tell, Lucas is more of a car and truck dude, while Tim is a dog and cat guy.

Lunch or laundry?

Hi. I need help with something. I need to figure out a way to be okay with doing nothing for a few minutes during the day. By doing nothing, I mean not cleaning, doing laundry, cooking, etc.

Here's what happens: I sit down to eat lunch after Tim begins his nap. While eating my giant salad (creature of habit - I eat the same giant salad every single day), I read my emails, the blogs I follow, some other news sites, or sometimes I read a book. This is something I can't do while Tim's awake, because, well you just can't sit for more than a few seconds when there's an 18-month-old on the rampage. So it's a moment of treat time.

In my head, sitting in front of the computer or reading a book is "doing nothing". I can do this while I eat lunch, because I can't really be doing anything else at that time. But the chores are lurking and once I finish eating, I should really get back to it. Right? However, I like surfing/reading, and to keep it going a little longer, I keep eating. After my salad, I'll get some nuts to snack on. Then a piece of bread with pb or a cookie, or even more salad. So I have an excuse to keep doing nothing. As soon as "lunch is over", it's time to get back to work -- get all the chores done that I could do so quickly while kid-free.

You see the problem, right? I end up eating two lunches, just to enable myself to sit still for a little longer. Am I a glutton, am I lazy, or just a bit mental? I figure I have two choices: either forget about relaxing and doing nothing (ie: get up off my lazy butt and just get the chores done already), or give myself permission somehow to sit there "doing nothing"... without having to have the excuse of "eating lunch" (even when lunch is actually over).

Meanwhile, as I sit quietly writing this during naptime, salad ingested, I'm eating peanuts...

Chomp, slurp, lick

You know you've made a kickass meal when the 12-year-old asks if it's okay if she licks her plate, and when she's finished doing so (you let her because she's old enough to know not to do it in public, and also you're flattered), she asks you if you're going to lick your own plate, because if not, would you mind...?

It was only eggs benny, but with cornbread and smoked prosciutto rather than english muffins and ham, and a lemony homemade hollandaise. (The cornbread was left over from the previous night's supper of moosemeat chili. Also a hit.)

What can I say, my family loves butter and whipping cream. Of which there was plenty in the cake I made for dessert: white butter cake with chocolate buttercream icing. A totally rich and yummy and super-simple cake. Sweetie McPie said "Can we have cake?" (Said not asked, because I don't think he thought it was possible, and didn't dare actually ask.)  But I whipped one up right then, right under his nose, just what he requeste: white cake with chocolate icing. I do take my job as a homemaker seriously!

Out and about

I have to say that, although I will never admit to ever being glad that summer is nearing an end, I am feeling pleasantly welcoming toward the onset of autumn. September and October, and the anticipation of Grey November, is such a nostalgic and invigorating time of year. A time for new routines, old rituals, putting away, taking out, spending that last bit of energy before hunkering down and cozying up for the long winter months.

And I will admit that that last heat wave of summer, just last week, was pretty inhibiting. We stayed indoors most of the week - it was just too stifling to venture forth. So this week's whiff of autumn is very literally a breath of fresh air, and Tim and I have enjoyed putting on our long sleeves and hoodies and getting out into the neighbourhood.

First stop, the Children's Museum at the Museum of Civilization. Okay, not strictly in our neighbourhood, but we did walk there and back. And Tim went to town while there, showing off how advanced he is. ;-)

Tim drove a bus.


Played chess.


And wrote some important things down.


Today, we headed down to the park at the end of the street, where they replaced the rickety, old, and too-high-for-toddlers play structure with an awesome new one that requires much less intervention on mom's part.

There was much climbing and sliding.




And, of course, some resting. (In the horseshoe pit, where else?)


Strangely, Tim refuses to go on the swings. Which, to my mind, are the funnest part of a playground. As far as I know, he hasn't had any disastrous or scary swing incidents. He'll sit on my lap on the big-kid swings, but absolutely revolts at the idea (or forced insertion into) the little-kid swings. Weirdo.

Saved in the nick

Two days ago, I mentioned that we were in the market for a second car. As of yesterday, we've dropped out of that market -- without having acquired a car.

Yay!

We didn't WANT to get a second car. We've been trying for years to stay committed to the reduced cost and footprint of having to work with just one car. It was a bit trickier with a little one, but we have a kickass stroller that carries a lot of stuff and pushes really easily. And we managed with CommunAuto because I could transport Tim in his infant carseat, which attached handily to the stroller.

We used the shared car a lot, because pretty much any activity other than shopping and going to a playground (ie: swimming lessons, music class, visiting any friends) required a drive.

But Tim has just outgrown the infant seat, and our supercalifragilistic convertible carseat is awkward and heavy and I just couldn't figure out how to get it to the shared car easily enough that I'd actually want to leave the house. In my head, I was stuck.

Then, coincidentally, I decided yesterday to catch up on my blog reading, and came across Alison's new writing gig. Her latest article made me do a double-take.

It reminded me of all the reasons we DON'T want a second car, and of many of the reasons we don't NEED a second car. It also provided the solution to my toddler-transport problem. It's so obvious that I seriously smacked my head and groaned: get a smaller, more portable carseat.

Duh. McPie read the article too, and we agreed that with a few adjustments (some mental), we could continue for awhile longer as we are.

And, rather than a new smaller carseat, my sister pointed me in the direction of the Carseat Travelmate. How cool is that? So cool, in fact, that all last night McPie was smacking HIS head and groaning, saying "why did I not invent that already?"

Toddler-ese

Tim is a chatterbox. He talks constantly -- to himself, to us, pointing at things, asking about things, asking for things, or just letting us know. Thing is, none of what he says comes out of his mouth in a language that we recognize as English (nor French). It's pure Timguistics. Whatever; it's damn cute. And because he uses quite specific syllables for specific things, we've been able to decode quite a lot of what he's saying so far.

Most spectacular is his "word" for berries. (Strawberries or blueberries interchangeably; they are among his favourite foods.) Most simply it would be written phonetically as "bugga-bugga-bug". But listen closely and there's actually a subtle "L" sound in there: buggla-buggla-bug. But even that doesn't do it justice, because the way he forms that hard "g" sound is complex and fantastic. It sort of starts at the back of his mouth near the throat, rolls out along the tongue where he flips it against his teeth and rolls it back to where it started. Try as we might, none of us can quite replicate it. It sounds so crazy and wonderful that we feed him more berries than any child should reasonably eat, just so we can hear him say it.

And I managed to capture him asking for berries on video (because I taped a whole lunchtime the other day). If I ever manage to find the cord for my video camera, along with the time to edit out the clip of Tim's pronunciation, I'll share with you the glory of buggla-buggla-bug.

New year's resolution

It's the first week of September, the kids are back to school, and there's a whiff of autumn in the air. In other words, it's the beginning of new year. My resolution: blog. Life these days is wonderful, challenging, complex, and full, and I don't want to miss capturing it and sharing it.

To avoid starting out already overwhelmed, I'll start fresh. No backtracking to try to catch up on the months that have passed unrecorded. It will have to suffice to say: we had a wonderful, busy, hot, fun summer full of travel (Baba's in Nova Scotia, Grandpa's cottage, frisbee Nationals in Sherbrooke, Nana's in Guelph), and full of family. Tim is growing into quite the little boy, who adores playing with his brother, loves the attentions of his beautiful big sister, and is getting pretty good at playing with himself. I've found a sort of groove as a mama and homemaker, and am much less frustrated and anxious than I was in the spring. (Turns out, we likely just had a bit of cabin fever. Also, we're sleeping a lot better!)

First exciting project that is unfolding this week: Operation Mobilize! We're finally taking action to acquire a second car so Mama and Tim can go out and do stuff outside of our neighbourhood. We're signed up to start swimming lessons and music/storytime in the coming weeks, and we've grown out of CommunAuto.

We've been putting off getting a second care for ages because we've been trying to stay committed to being a one-car family. Minimize carbon footprint, stay connected as a family, yada yada... But Tim and I find ourselves just sort of stuck many days, and it'll get worse as the weather worsens and the possibilities of what do do within walking distance shrink. So, we're going to thoughtfully and judiciously dip our toe into the stream of "average suburbites". Imagine.

Meanwhile, here's where we are: mellow, and usually hanging out in the backyard:

Over heeeeeeeerrrre!

Hi! I AM still blogging. Just, not here.

Alas, there is only so much time in the day, so the small moments of writing time are going towards writing on behalf of the DIVA Foundation.

Check out the DIVA blog! ("Posted by DIVA"... that's me!)

Right now, the blog is focused on drawing attention to women's health topics and events. We're just gearing up (see "only so much time, etc etc), but I'm hoping to have a chance to broaden the scope of our posts in the coming months with more in-depth articles and interviews with Divas in the community.

(I am also keeping up with my workouts and writing about them. It's easy because I don't have to think up what do write about. Come up with a workout, do it, and the post writes itself!)

Uncharacteristic indulgence

Tomorrow, we are leaving for a winter holiday. We are going on a cruise.

Seriously.

Here is it, the second day of Lent, and I'm doing nothing but eating cake* and going on cruises. Ready to get struck by lightning any moment now.

All of us - kids, baby, crazy parents (just two) - head for NY tomorrow, then board the Gem on Saturday. (Is that ship seriously emblazoned with cartoony gems? Or is that Photoshop job?) And sail down Bahamas way... Where they are having the coldest winter ever. And, embarking from New York, you ask? In February? Give us a break, we're new to this whole cruising business. Last year, we drove two hours north of Gatineau for our winter getaway. This will be an improvement, I promise. "Next time", we'll fly straight to Miami and go south from there.

Doesn't this kid look like he needs a break from winter?

At the very least, we'll be leaving the housework far, far behind.

* On the weekend, we had "death by chocolate" birthday cake at my Dad's. Then, I made a cheesecake for Family Day, complete with grated fudge topping in the shape of a heart. Maman came for supper on Family Day and brought leftover spice cake. And let me tell you, that woman can bake. So I've been stuffing my face and enduring the tummy cramps all week. I'm nice and puffy for the cruise, but it'll be too cold for bathing suits anyway.

Family Day

After finishing up a nice family dinner, I'm doing up the dishes in the kitchen. I can hear laughter, splashing and general chattering coming from the bathroom, where my husband and his ex-wife are bathing my child. As I enjoy listening to these sounds of ease and contentment, it occurs to me that the only weird thing about this scenario is that it is NOT weird.

Because my family ROCKS, in it's weird little way.

Hope yours does, too. Happy Family Day!

Hero worship

So, I'm in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner and I put Tim down on the floor. He immediately abandons me, crawling toward the living room with bustling purpose. I follow him, and discover he had purpose indeed:

Um, hero worship, anyone?


(Not shown in the photos: we had to keep pulling Tim off of Ben's lap.)

Here, Tim is actually eating the crumbs of Ben's dessert, (while gripping the Wii nunchuk, natch), possibly with the hope that his brother's awesomeness might be transferred to him via remnant chocolate.

Why I love the east coast

I've just eaten my body weight in mussels. Mussels that were caught this morning, and cooked by my sister this evening. That was the appetizer. We've just gotten the babies to bed, and a big mess of salmon is up next.

Oh yes, and my family is here! My mom is hanging out here at my sis's because the Farmhouse is cold and empty, and this place is full of cuddly grandsons. Pictures of whom I will have shortly (I've mostly been taking video of the ridiculous cuteness of two 9-10 month olds playing "together", but lord knows I haven't figured out how to upload -- let alone download or edit -- that stuff yet!)

I should go help Julie in the kitchen... earn my keep and all.

We've created a monster

A peanut butter monster.

Tim is beginning to assert his independence in the realm of eating: he wants to feed himself and has become touchy about accepting food coming at him on the end of a spoon. However, he still kind of sucks at feeding himself. If food is too mushy he plays with it; if it's too slippery... well, you can imagine. And we're trying to limit the amount of processed starches he gets (cereal, etc.) Without the help of a spoon, he doesn't end up eating much.

Enter peanut butter. He freakin' LOVES it, and when we mix it with anything (apples, yogurt, ricotta cheese, bananas, even squash), he'll take what's on the spoon and pop his mouth open for more immediately. Couple this with experimental food chunks that rarely make it to his mouth, and Tim can both learn to eat and satisfy his hunger. Also a good way to make sure he gets plenty of fat and protein -- we've found it's too easy to end up feeding Tim all carbohydrates, which is a dramatic departure for his little body from the more balanced breastmilk he's grown up on. (Sweet potatoes, apples, bananas, carrots -- all favourite foods, and but holy sugar batman!)

I know the going (but changing) wisdom is to not give kids under a year nuts, but... oh well! Dad started sneaking Tim licks of his peanut butter toast a month or so ago, and he was clearly not allergic, and natural, organic, nothing-but-peanuts butter is, frankly, super healthy for him. (Tim also likes almond butter, and we'll try cashew butter soon.)

Mr. Little Baby, eating PB-dipped baby cheerios:

Saturday Stew Night

We always say that we love belly-warming stews, but in past years have gone whole winters without getting around to actually making them. (We have relied instead on varieties of chilis, which of course have their place on a winter's menu.)

I'm at the kitchen table watching Sweetie McPie organizing the makings of "beef and beer" a long time favourite stew involving -- you guessed it! -- beef and beer, seasoned with nutmeg, worcestershire, malt vinegar, etc, and topped with slices of crusty loaf spread with (stew-side down) grainy mustard, which gets nicely toasted in the oven. For this is a oven-safe-pot stove-top-to-oven dealio. Deeelishus!

I mention it because I feel we are on a roll. Last week, I made sauerbraten, and it was totally amazing. I threw several chunks of it into the food processor for Tim, and he loved it too. I would link to the recipe, as I used the one in the Complete Canadian Living cookbook, but it's not on the web site. A tragic oversight. An excellent trick in the recipe was to use crushed gingersnap cookies thrown in five minutes before serving to thicken the gravy. (I can link to the recipe I used for the braised red cabbage I served with the sauerbraten - it was also a winner. I've never actually cooked a Jamie Oliver recipe before; I found this one by searching on "red cabbage and bacon" a combination I thought would be an excellent complement to the stew... and bingo! Or, as Tim would prefer: B-I-N-G-O and Bingo was his name-O!)

Hmmm. McPie just lamented "It's too bad we don't have any cabbage"... perhaps cabbage is a natural sidekick for beef stew?

So, Saturday is now stew night (or Sunday, if we procrastinate), and I look forward to future experiments in belly-warming.

(That said, we will be travelling for many Saturdays of the coming winter: at least three of the next four weekends. Details to come. In short form: Nova Scotia/China; Huntsville winter fun; Caribbean cruise.)

In Appreciation of My Mother: A Domestic Lament

Dear Mum,

I apologize for all those years when I didn't put my dirty dishes in the dishwasher. I'm sorry I left dishes and every other kind of clutter on any surface of the house. I'm sorry for ever expecting you to make my toast when I was perfectly capable of making my own. I apologize for leaving behind a mess in the kitchen after making a lunch. I'm sorry for pouting when you said "I shouldn't have to ask you to do it"; I know that having to ask me to pick up/put away/clean up every little thing made you feel like a nag.

Mum, rest assured I am getting my just desserts, my karmic reward for every dirty plate I left behind. Every day, as I weigh the cost/benefit between nagging or just doing it myself, I know that I caused the same drudgery, back when I didn't know better.

I know better now, as I suspect my charges will too. One day. Years and years from now.

Thanks for not giving up on me. I won't give up on them, either.

Love,
Heather

Hello to you, and 2010 too!

The longer I put it off, the harder it is to return. You know? Like, where do I start, how to catch up? Not so much that nobody cares what I had for lunch, but prolly nobody cares what teeny miniscule milestone Tim hit today. Which is what's going on these days. Milestones. And also, napping.

Yep, I've given up my free time -- the one to two hours I can count on Tim to nap each morning -- toward catching up on my sleep. Our night-time sleeping leaves much to be desired (and let me tell you I've written many a blog post in my head about that), so I've been giving up blogging/cleaning/showering/emailing/reading/etc time to the pursuit of sleep. Tim does have an afternoon nap, but it is more variable in timing and length and location, so I don't count on it for free time. It's just a breather. Lately it's been happening in the stroller on the way home from the grocery store, which gives me an excuse to keep walking and thereby get some exercise.

Because I've given up working out, too. Okay not "given up" in the strictest sense... Just, well, see "napping", above. That used to be my workout time too. (Still get a couple w/o's in each week, but they are getting lamer.) Kid is way too active now to just put him down and work around him. We're in the "chase" phase of our relationship, so waking time is either play time, eating time, hauling around time (if I'm determined to get something done), or hoping time (hoping he stays put with the pots and pans to play with while I whip something up in the kitchen.)

At least half of my very-few readers can relate, right?

So, I nap with Tim most mornings, and it's actually a heavenly couple of hours, the two of us all cozied up. He's lovely; my favourite. But the rest of the day is busier, trying to catch up on those "lost" hours.

Anyway, I won't bother trying to catch up here; instead, I'll forge ahead with optimism and a new plan. How about I try to write something every day, even if it's only a sentence?

And I'll let you know that all is well. We're so good, we're piggin' out on peanut butter toast!