The Best Christmas Present EVER!

Hubby the Great, The Wee Man, and I just returned from a holiday in Jamaica. Loved, loved, loved it! Not only did we get fun in the sun at a fabulous resort, we also managed to avoid the huge dump of snow in Ottawa while we were gone – bonus!

And while my body is back in snowy Canada, I think my mind is still on a Jamaican beach (with Pina Colada in hand) because I can’t really get words down on the page. Therefore, I will let pictures do the talking.

Have passport, will travel

Beer AND Popcorn! The Liberals’ fears have come true...

New Bathing suit: $65
Week’s supply of #45 sunscreen: $30

Cost of traveling to tropical paradise where having a large badonkadonk is the feminine ideal: priceless.

Check Out My Mad Sandcastle-Building Skillz - yo!

Chillin’

It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To

I’ll admit it. I went a little overboard hosting The Wee Man’s birthday party this past weekend. I just figured that since it was a milestone, I shouldn’t half-ass it. So I bought the decorations, made the food, and invited his little buddies and their parents. Ahh, such good intentions.

Anyhow, here are some observations from a rookie’s first attempt at hosting a toddler’s birthday party:

1) Time is not on your side. No matter how fast you get the festivities rolling you cannot outrun the impending collective meltdown of toddlers overdue for a nap.

2) Don’t even try to be the hostess with the mostess. Cocktails and canapés are a thing of the past (unless someone comes up with a hors d’oeuvre made from Cheerios or people don’t mind getting their martini served in a sippy cup).

3) You will be eating off Peter Rabbit 1st Birthday paper plates until Christmas because you ordered too many.

4) You will be eating leftovers (on those paper plates) until Christmas because, despite having a toddler of your own, you have suddenly forgotten that parents have to eat in a hurry and are lucky to scarf down half a hamburger, let alone your variety of side dishes.

5) Forget buying a big cake. By the time you get around to singing “Happy Birthday” the only way parents are interested in prolonging their stay to eat cake is if it is laced with tranquilizers.

6) Warn friends who don’t have kids that every hour spent at your child’s birthday party will equal the number of years they will want to continue using birth control.

The Wee Man Turns One!

I wish I could adequately put into words all that I’m feeling today as my baby turns one. I think back to a year ago when he decided to put the scare of our lives into us by having to stay in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for a week after he was born.

We wanted to put the celebrations on hold until we knew for sure that he was going to be okay. But by the time we got the all-clear from the doctors, we were so wrung out from the worry and uncertainty we endured watching him struggle to get better that passing out cigars and toasting ourselves with champagne seemed superfluous. At that point, all we wanted to do was to get him home.

Joy, pride and great love are just a few of the things I’m feeling right now. But if I had to pick just one emotion to sum up today it would be gratitude. Gratitude for The Wee Man being happy and healthy, gratitude for learning to cherish each day with my loved ones, and gratitude for being able to have joy, pride and great love in my life.

So after presents are opened, a first bite of cake is tasted, and The Wee Man is put to bed, Hubby the Great and I will finally open that bottle of champagne. Because, after all, we have so much to celebrate.

Are You Quite Serious?

No surprise that the Christmas season starts earlier and earlier every year. After all, Yuletide products started appearing on store shelves right after Labour Day. But do they need to start playing Christmas carols so damned early?

I entered a store today and was confronted with “Jingle Bells” playing on the sound system. November 1st. November. Bloody. First.

I suppose retailers do it to create an ambience of Christmas to get shoppers in the mood for some holiday spending. Well guess how they can get me in the mood for holiday spending? LOWER THEIR PRICES TO REFLECT THE STRONG CANADIAN DOLLAR! Because if they don’t, I will be dashing through the snow right to the U.S. to buy presents. Ho Ho Ho – Merry Christmas.

It Really IS an Honour Just to be Nominated

On the ‘Links I Like’ section of this blog, I have listed one of my absolute favourites - Suburban Turmoil. I can’t remember, exactly, how I happened upon this blog but it has turned out to be one of those I visit at least half a dozen times a day, hoping for a new entry. Lindsay, the blogger extraordinaire, makes me howl with laughter with her wit and wry observations on being a stay-at-home-mom. One day, I hope my blog grows up to be just like hers.

Last week she had an entry about bizarre kids’ names. She wanted people to write in with the most annoying name they’ve ever heard and I couldn’t resist. You see, in the apartment building we used to live in, there was a kid named – wait for it - Frobisher. While I’m sure the name is near and dear to his parents, Frobisher’s mom may as well dress him in an ascot and send him off to school for his daily beating.

Anyhow, Frobisher isn’t the only one with problems in the name department. Lindsay’s loyal readers came through with over 300 entries, ranging from unusual to cruel. She would narrow them down to the best (or, in this case, the worst) and then have her readers choose a winner.

Well, whaddya know, Frobisher made the list! And while it wasn’t chosen as the worst name (that distinction went to twins called Sharon and Notsharon), it was still an honour just to be nominated.

And to Frobisher and his parents…thank you.

(Check out an article Lindsay wrote on the surprisingly common practice of naming kids some pretty bizarre things. Frobisher starts to look pretty lame tame in comparison).

I’d Like a Hairstyle to Complement My Tiara Please

I can’t really update on my new ’do because it is still looking all salon-y. Wait until I wash it and try to style it myself before I can accurately say if I like it or if I will have to go into hiding until it grows out. But even if I don’t like it, I will probably go back to the salon just for the people-watching.

It was good entertainment, especially since there was a big society soiree taking place that very evening. Apparently, Ottawa socialites had descended on the salon en masse. At first glance I felt like I wouldn’t fit in, what with all the big hair (on both the society mavens and the poodles in their laps).

But once Leticia Moneybags and Babs Trophywife returned to their Rockcliffe mansions, I realized that the stylists could produce more than just the ‘old money look’, much to my relief.

Forget Hospital Wait Times. What About Hairdresser Wait Times?!

I had an appointment for this Saturday to get my hair coloured and hi-lighted. I’d booked it almost three months ago, during my last visit, so needless to say I kind of forgot that the appointment was going to clash with my Japanese lessons.

I called today to reschedule. I told the receptionist that I need a Saturday afternoon or weekday evening so Hubby the Great will be available to look after The Wee Man. She said that my hairdresser is “booked until Christmas”. CHRISTMAS! But I’ve got faded hi-lights and split ends now! (Much whining).

I’ve had one too many bad experiences with hairdressers in this town to want to find someone else, but what is a girl to do? My “beauty” regimen has really taken a hit since having a baby but there is only so much I’m willing to neglect – and only for so long.

Thinking this hairdresser's wait-time could be an industry-wide epidemic, I decided I had better get over the fear and book with someone else. So this Saturday afternoon I’m booked into a new salon. Should I have taken it as a clue that I didn’t have to wait until the New Year to see one of their stylists? Guess I’ll find out this weekend.

IKEA – Swedish for Husband Hell

We'll try for the summit in the morning

This past Saturday we visited IKEA for the first time in a long, long time. We only needed shelving, but the thought of even the briefest visit gets my normally laid-back spouse agitated.

It all starts in the parking lot, where the only spot you can find will be so far away from the entrance to the store that you may as well pack provisions and prepare to set up base camp.

Once we reached the front of the store, Hubby the Great noticed the parking stalls “reserved” for families. Of course, they were all taken. I was tempted to inspect the cars to see which ones had car seats (as opposed to those who take “Family Parking” to mean a dad and his 30-year old son), but knowing that Hubby the Great’s blood pressure was rising, I decided to forgo my vigilantism.

We fought our way through the throng and got to the shelving. They were completely sold out of the one we needed – natch. Go figure, after I finally built up enough nerve to visit IKEA on a Saturday afternoon (of a long weekend no less), and convinced Hubby the Great that it really wouldn’t be like lighting his eyeballs on fire, they didn’t have what we came for.

Clearly, we weren’t going to be repeating this adventure anytime soon, so I had to settle for my second choice rather than risk suggesting we try again some other weekend.

With second runner-up shelf in hand, we made our way to the check-out where we gathered with similarly harassed-looking customers. That’s where it hit me. I know what IKEA really needs. Forget the cheap Swedish meatballs, IKEA should be serving liquor!

Perhaps they can implement my little suggestion in time for me to convince Hubby the Great to return to Satan’s Scandinavian lair (probably this time next year).

Greenhouse Gas Bag

Recently I was lined up to register for more Japanese lessons (I suspect this will be fertile ground for blog entries – stay tuned). I was standing behind this non-Japanese guy who was there to register his four year old half-Japanese son (who is no doubt operating at a much higher level than I am on the foreign-language front). He also had his other son, about one, in tow.

I kind of zoned out, as one does when one is standing in a line moving at glacier-like speed. At first I wasn’t really paying attention to the guy talking until I realized that he wanted me to hear what he had to say.

Guy (to woman near back of line): Oh hi – how are you?

Woman: Good. Where’s your wife today, she didn’t bring your sons to register?

Guy: She works on Saturday.

Woman: I see.

Guy (to his four year old son): That was Mayumi. Do you remember her from the organic market we went to a couple of weeks ago?

Son: Hmmm…

Guy (to his four year old son): You know, the organic market we went to?

Guy (to his one year old son): Do you see Mayumi over there? We saw her at the organic market.

One year old: ????

Guy (to four year old son): Mayumi brought her son to the organic market. Maybe he will be in your class.

Okay already. We all get it. You go to organic markets. Good for you.

You know, go to your organic markets, drive your Smart Cars, compost your dog’s doo doo, but try, please just try, to be less smug and sanctimonious about it. People like him are less about being environmentally friendly and more about trying to make sure everyone knows that they are morally superior to you and me by pointing out all their efforts to “out-green” the next person. It might be good for the planet, but bad for those of us stuck in line behind you.

Canada's Best Kept Secret

Hubby the Great and I love our adopted hometown of Ottawa. We’ve been here six years, first as singles, then newly-marrieds, and now as parents. This city has been a perfect fit for all three of those stages.

Ottawa gets an undeserved bad rap for being a boring government town. So not true. There is such an excellent quality of life here. We have discovered a beautiful and elegant city full of history. People are friendly here and the crime rate is surprisingly low for a city of this size. The housing prices haven’t gone berserk like Toronto, Vancouver, or Calgary and commuting times are still comparatively reasonable. Ottawa has an abundance of quality restaurants and no end of amazing festivals, historic sites, and museums. It is a dynamic city with a young population that has come from every corner of Canada. There is always something to do and see here.

Yes, the winters can be miserably cold, but this is Canada after all. Good luck trying to avoid snow unless you live on the west coast (and even they got DUMPED ON last year). And, yes, the best place for shopping in Ottawa is still Montreal. But, that too is changing (a shout out to the shops on Sussex Drive).

Everyone who comes to visit us from out of town is pleasantly surprised over how much Ottawa is different from their expectations. They all leave being as enchanted with the city as we are.

So it was with such pride (and a bit of smug validation) that I saw this survey ranking Ottawa as Canada ’s Best Place to Live 2007. I know these things are always highly subjective but it still warms my heart to see others coming around to our point of view.

Milk On The Rocks, Please

We went out for dinner last night to one of our favourite restaurants. We love it for the great food and great service but also because they are cool with babies (it helps that we now do our fine dining at 5 p.m.).

I swear, the following picture was not staged. He opened the cocktail menu himself and found his reading material to be of the utmost fascination. I have no idea who he takes after.

And So It Begins

A new NFL season that is. Not that I care very much but for Hubby the Great, he has been waiting for this since February. And with each new season comes a close personal relationship with the T.V. every Sunday (and sometimes Monday night too if his beloved Chicago Bears are playing).

Oh but being a football fan doesn’t just constitute cursing at the T.V. at regular intervals anymore. It has become A WHOLE LOT MORE.

The introduction of fantasy football leagues has virtually ensured that being a fan is a 24/7 job. There are trades to be made, lineups to be set during the week. Then there is the obsessive checking of scores on game day. I’m not sure if Hubby the Great spends more time watching the games as he does running to the computer.

This is all harmless fun though as I can tell it really enhances Hubby the Great’s football season experience (and I didn’t think that was even possible). But this year, he has got himself a recruit…

Do You Throw In A T.V. With That?

Like most childless couples, Hubby the Great and I didn’t have much of a clue when it came to baby equipment. But when I got pregnant we had to get wise. At least we thought we were getting wise.

When it came to strollers we chose a “travel system”. It fit all our needs - a stroller combined with a car seat. We selected the best-selling one Babies R’ Us carried. And we were oh so grateful when The Wee Man’s great-grandparents bought it as a gift for us as it came in just around the $500 mark. A lot of money, to be sure, but we knew that we would get a lot of use out of it.

As it turns out, we love his stroller. It is durable, moves well, and has all the necessities for parents like a large storage rack and cup holders. As for The Wee Man, he digs his ride. He leans back, arm up on the side of the stroller, and acts as if Xzibit himself pimped it out for him.

Poor guy, if he only knew that it appears we have the stroller equivalent of the Griswold Family Truckster.

Apparently the stroller “to have” these days isn’t ours. The one mothers are clamoring for in baby boutiques (forget Babies R’ Us – how utterly common) all over town has a price tag double the cost of ours.

Now, I’m all for style, but when it comes to baby equipment, practicality and functionality usually win out.

When I told Hubby the Great about this stroller caste system and what the going rate was for this Rolls Royce of strollers, he rightly asked if the price included a television set.

“Ha! You’d think so,” I came back with. “But get this. These strollers have crappy storage, no cup holders, and, they’re wide open at the top, leaving the baby exposed to wind, rain, sun, whatever. I can’t figure out what the big deal is.”

“Well for a thousand bucks those things better damn well push themselves,” said Hubby the Great.

Or at least come with a T.V.

Starbucks Has My Number

I have never been a coffee drinker. I’ve just never really enjoyed the taste of it. If I needed a little caffeine pick-me-up I would reach for a can of Diet Coke.

Anyhoo, before I moved to Ottawa I lived in Vancouver where a Starbucks beverage was virtually an accessory. No outfit was complete without one. So enticing was Starbucks that I started drinking coffee (only once in a while), as long as it didn’t taste like coffee.

At first, my drink of choice was the Caffè Mocha. But over time I noticed new items appearing on their menu – all of which fit my requirement of not tasting like coffee. I was distraught earlier this year when they discontinued their Cinnamon Dolce Latte. So imagine my glee when I went into my local Starbucks last week to see that it is now back!

And now that it has made a triumphant return, it is only a matter of a few short weeks before their pumpkin-flavored concoctions appear. And then only a few more short weeks after that, they’ll bring back their Christmas-themed coffees (I love me some Peppermint Mocha!) I am all a tizzy with anticipation. For someone who doesn’t really like coffee, I am far more excited than I should be. Maybe it’s the caffeine.

The Addiction

After The Wee Man was born, I didn’t want to buy myself any clothes until I lost the ton or two of baby weight I gained. But I still needed my regular retail therapy sessions. Since I couldn’t be the beneficiary of my shopping habit, The Wee Man got decked out in a lot of clothes.

Almost every week for the first four months of his life, I went trolling for new outfits. Sometimes I would just browse but sometimes the addiction would take over.

The worst occurred back in April. One of my favorite stores brought out a summer line with gophers playing golf as the motif. (C’mon! Gophers playing golf – how cute is that?!) My pupils started to dilate, I got the shakes, and before I knew it, I was well on my way to another shopping high. Just one thing though: I didn’t simply get high, I overdosed. I bought every item that had that motif and The Wee Man was kitted out for the whole summer.

Yes, it was more clothes than one growing baby needed. And, yes, it cost more than one new mother should spend on a growing baby. But I needed my fix and this store knew how to deliver.

Since the o.d., I have stayed well away from shopping for The Wee Man. I needed detox and knew to avoid all bad influences. I didn’t go into this store for four whole months. I was doing well with my recovery. That is, until Grandma arrived.

My mom wanted to do some fall clothes shopping for The Wee Man. We had pretty much wrapped things up when we decided to “quickly pop into” the store I had avoided since April. It was like a junkie going back into the crack house. When I saw the current fall line with the bear cub motif (C’mon! Bear cubs – how cute is that?!), things started to go downhill. If my mom wasn’t there, I would have bought the whole line, I swear. But I managed to escape with two shirts and a baseball cap.

So, obviously, I still have a ways to go dealing with “my issues”. But I didn’t fall off the wagon with a big of thud as I thought I would. No need for a 12-step program – yet.

The Downside To Being Grown-Up

Hubby the Great and I have been trying our best lately to conduct ourselves like adults now that we have big-time financial responsibilities. But acting like a fiscally-responsible adult can suck sometimes. Now is one of those times.

We have just RSVP’d to a wedding invitation and the answer we submitted was not the one we wanted. The couple getting married are dear friends of ours. We so very badly want to go and share in their happy day. However, the nuptials are in Calgary and when all was said and done, the trip would’ve cost us more than we could shell out at the moment.

At first, Hubby the Great and I didn’t even consider the cost, merrily planning our trip from Ottawa to Calgary and thinking about where we would stay, who we would visit etc. etc. We knew airfares were going to be outrageous but we also knew they are a sad fact of life for us when we live here and all our family lives two and three time zones away. We have become almost numb over the cost of flights and begrudgingly pay the loan shark-like fares, so the aeronautical portion of our trip didn’t initially dissuade us from going to the wedding.

Then we started calculating the other costs: the hotel, the rental car, and three meals a day in restaurants. Our trip to Calgary was starting to look A LOT more expensive. And while it killed us to send our regrets, Hubby the Great and I knew it wouldn’t be financially prudent (yes, we are grown up when we start using words like prudent) to go.

We are still paying down credit cards and paying off a vehicle loan. And within the last year we have added a mortgage and a new baby, both of which have managed to keep our bank account at a can’t-fly-to-Calgary-for-the-weekend level. We knew, intellectually, that there wouldn’t be as much money to go around after we started a family but to put it into practice is something we are just now coming to terms with.

And seeing The Wee Man gleefully smush and contort his face up against the mesh of his playpen while we ate dinner last night told us that we better start saving for his Ivy League education now!

Welcome

I have been mommy to The Wee Man for the past eight months. The experience has been so joyful, but all-consuming too. For the first six months of my son’s life, I swear, I was in a bit of a haze. Once the haze started to lift I realized that even though my life had changed drastically, I was still the same old me with the same likes and dislikes that I had prior to becoming a mommy. However, the self-imposed pressure to “do well” at being a mom almost dictated that I reinvent myself as someone who solely focuses on my new role and forget about the old me. And I know I’m not the only new mom who goes through this.

I found that I needed to laugh, and laugh at myself, as I navigated this new world and to not take myself too seriously. So, yes, I no longer deny that I enjoy a cocktail or two or that I can let the F-bomb fly if I get cut off in traffic. And I don’t want to always discuss all things baby. I may have shoved my designer purses to the back of the closet in favor of a diaper bag and high heels just don’t go with a stroller. But I am determined to combine mommyhood with a whole range of other interests. And that is also what I intend to do with this blog. If it happens to generate a few laughs along the way – bonus.