Fourteen weeks of yummy baby
Published May 27, 2009 | 
In the past two weeks, Maia’s suddenly gotten more “fun”. She feels so much more interactive, happy, and interested in things. She smiles when she sees us, even if we don’t smile first, which is pretty much the most amazing feeling ever.
Yesterday she smiled at me, and for some reason the first thing I thought was, “Someday soon will be the last time I see that toothless smile,” and, as you can imagine, I started crying. I mean like ridiculous, copious amounts of crying, as if someone had told me I’d never see her smile again, period, ever. So silly! I know that she’ll be cute with teeth too, but now I want to take ten thousand more pictures and videos of her the way she is right now, all gummy.
For awhile now, she’s been rolling onto her left side, and now she’s decided that she enjoys rolling onto her right as well. This is great, except for the fact that when she’s on the changing table, the edge is to her right. More than once she’s tried to roll off the edge and I have a minor freak-out trying to stop her from doing this. I mean, in one way it’s pretty funny that she’s finally realized rolling onto her other side is possible and enjoyable, but in another… oh my goodness, child.
Paired with this new-found rolling to both sides thing, she’s also rolling onto her stomach. Or, I should say, she’s rolled onto her stomach a few times but mostly, now, she rolls almost all the way over but has one arm trapped beneath her that disallows a full roll. This pisses her off to no end. She’ll scream and cry like a banshee over the fact that she’s not fully on her stomach, but then when I move her arm out of her way, she gets angry that she’s on her belly! I just can’t win.
We’ve been back home for two nights now, and I tell you… she is sleeping really badly at night. Two to three hours at a time, waking up and feeding for what feels like forever, fussing when I put her down so that it takes a few attempts for her to go back to sleep. However, she’s had such a busy time with all the traveling and meeting people that I really can’t begrudge her taking awhile to get back into sleeping here. Yesterday we laid down together at 10:30am or so and the next time I woke up, it was 2:30pm and she was still sleeping beside me. I think her internal clock is all screwy, or maybe she just really needed a nap. Hell, I needed one too, so no complaints here!
Maia’s also starting to grab at things more reliably. Her rattle, her stuffed firefly, my hand, my hair… it doesn’t matter, if it’s nearby and she can grab it, she will try her hardest to do so. Of course, these objects soon make their way towards her mouth so she can gum at them and drool all over them, so I’ve been washing my hands even more fanatically than usual.
Speaking of which, at one of the rest stations in New York, I was washing my hands while holding Maia (no easy feat), which involved quite a bit of fancy handwork. As I dried my hands with a paper towel, a woman looked over at me, grinned, and said, “That was some impressive juggling!”
I felt like super mommy. It’s nice to be noticed.
My Baby’s Mind Monday 02
Published May 18, 2009 | Welcome to My Baby’s Mind Mondays! If you’d like to participate, please copy and paste the HTML code below to grab the button, which will link back here. Leave a comment letting me know you’ve posted, and I’ll add a list of participants to the end of each weekly post.
Here’s the picture that inspired me this week:
Dear Mom,
What were you thinking when you let Daddy have the hairbrush? Didn’t you know he was going to abuse the privilege of brushing my lovely locks? You had my hair done so nicely, then you turned your back on us for thirty seconds and POW… I’m wailing in protest! When you turned around to see what was going on — YOU STARTED TO LAUGH. How could you laugh? Can’t you see how absolutely appalling it is that he made me look like this?
And then you reached for the camera. Why? Why must you have recorded this moment for posterity? Are you going to pull this picture out when I bring home my first boyfriend? LOOK AT HOW ANGRY I AM at seeing the camera!
Bah. You hate me. You both hate me. I’m going to scream in your ear for a few hours one night, and you won’t know why… but believe me, I will. And this picture is why.
Also, I’m going to poop on you.
I’m outtie.
-Maia
This week’s participants:
01. Jinxy @ Jinxyisms
Chris: Inconceivable! Me: Uh, actually…
Published May 17, 2009 | A year ago today, Chris and I were in Washington DC, doing the tourist thing.
Innocuous enough, right? Well, it was. Until we left DC, and found ourselves up in the gorgeous mountain town of Frederick, Maryland.
We decided to go out for dinner, and I looked around online at various review sites until I stumbled across this great-looking restaurant called Cacique, that specializes in Spanish and Mexican cuisine:
I had a half pitcher of sangria, Chris had an amazing mojito or two, and there was also some food eaten, but let’s be real: the alcohol is the real star of this story.
Back at the hotel, we got our freak on. And then I got sick in the toilet, which was really sexy (not).
LITTLE DID WE KNOW then that eating at Cacique made me pregnant.
Happy Conception Day, dear Maia!
Shedding like a damned dog
Published May 16, 2009 | I know that during pregnancy, our hair is all lustrous and beautiful (supposedly…) because it’s not falling out like it normally does.
And I know that after the baby arrives, hormone levels return to normal.
But is it seriously normal that, three months later, I’m taking a shower, I run my hands through my hair, and I’m pulling out CLUMPS? Ughhh. Disgusting.
So then when I get out of the shower, I’m drying off, and there are these horrible hairs (from my head!) clinging to my thighs, and I’m trying to wipe them off but then they get stuck on my hands… and wrapped around my fingers… and before you know it I’m cursing like a sailor because I feel like I’m never going to escape from my own hair which is crawling down from my own head.
Is this normal?
Then again, she might just have been more interested in eating her own hand.
Published May 15, 2009 | For a few days, Maia stopped talking.
Oh sure, she’d smile at us when we talked to her, kicking her little arms and legs around wildly as if it was just the most delightful thing in the world to hear our voices, and she’d cry when angry, but she had nothing to say. Day one, I thought maybe she was just being quiet. Day two, I thought maybe I had talked over her and missed it that way. Day three, I finally said something to Chris (“Am I crazy or has she not been talking lately?”) and he confirmed her being quiet. Day four, I convinced myself that she had lost her voice forever and I was a horrible mother who was somehow to blame for it.
Day five — or hell, let’s be real, EXCESSIVELY EARLY MORNING of day five — she wakes up and decides she would like to stay awake after feeding. So I change her diaper and I figure that she’s probably getting ready to poo, which is usually the only reason she’ll refuse to go to bed in the middle of the night, but she didn’t want to snuggle up against my shoulder and just be carried. That’d be too easy, of course.
And you know what she decided to do?
Talk to me.
Also apparently make me add an extra ‘t’ to ‘dudette’. But no, she talked to me. For an hour.
Ah well. At least she’s talking again!
(This time next year, look for a post called “Maia won’t shut up oh god what do I do?!”)
How I cope with a very awake baby
Published May 6, 2009 | Someday in the distant future, Maia will be sleeping, peacefully, in her bed. Outside her window, with its sun-blocking curtains drawn tight, birds will begin thinking about singing good morning to one another. She’ll be in her teenage years, awkward and believing that no one understands her. She’ll feel like the world is unfair, and everyone’s out to get her.
Then I will display how the kismet of the universe plays out. I will sneak into her room, lie down on the floor (meaning I will have to shove all her clutter into a corner somewhere), and start flopping around and grunting. Maybe I’ll even suck loudly on my fist. I’ll continue this for a few minutes, increasingly loudly, until she rolls over and is like, “What the fudge, Mom? It’s like 5:30am. Go back to sleep.”
Rather than acknowledge or acquiesce to her perfectly reasonable request, I will fart at her before flopping around more insistently, and if she talks to me again I’ll either smile and squeal, or I’ll stare at her blankly as if to say “Are you talking to me? Seriously? How dare you!”
If she turns her back to me I’ll start to scream, and I won’t stop until she gets out of bed. Once she does, I will randomly stick my fingers in her eyes or nose or mouth for the next hour, while occasionally attempting to shove my toes into her belly button. The only thing that MAY relax me is if she walks around the house in endless circles with me, but even then, just when she’s been lulled into a sense of secure “Maybe I’ll get some sleep soon”, I’ll make sure to twitch wildly, shriek, and drool all over her shoulder.
Until, inexplicably, I collapse into sleep in the most contorted position possible, wherever and whenever I feel like it, because dammit all, I’m tired and I want to sleep and how dare she not realize that.
That day will be awesome.
familymotherhoodparentingbabyfunny
Christening the new site in style!
Published April 23, 2009 | So, I had this hilarious conversation with my mom yesterday afternoon on MSN. Reposted here with her permission…
***
Gala says:
hi honey
Tatiana says:
hi mommy
Gala says:
so yesterday I am looking around craigs list because I have nothing better to do.
and I end up looking at pic’s of mens penis’s.
great.
Tatiana says:
ahaha
i love that section
Gala says:
so, as I’m trying to figure out why on earth it would be so easy to see these penii
uncle comes in through the sliding doors behind me.
Tatiana says:
!!
Gala says:
I must have jumped two feet, and was trying to get the penis’s off the screen
Tatiana says:
geez mom, you’re such a perv
Gala says:
I don’t know if he saw, so I didn’t know if I should explain!
Now he probably thinks I look at porno online!
Tatiana says:
well, if you have giant penises everywhere, you do!
Gala says:
oh brother.
I have never seen penises online before!
hehehe
guess that’s what I get for looking at the men seeking men section!
Tatiana says:
omg hehehe
Chris is laughing
he’s like “yah right, tell her we know she looks at penises all the time, we won’t judge her for it
Gala says:
hey, someday your daughter will be looking at penis’s!
Tatiana says:
oh gosh, nooo
Gala says:
hehehe
Tatiana says:
were you looking in the Connecticut section?
Gala says:
yeah
I just thought it would be funny to read!
Tatiana says:
what would you have done if you saw someone you knew?
that is what scares me about craigslist
Gala says:
OMG…hehhee
Tatiana says:
like … FLOP, there’s your nephew’s penis!!
Gala says:
well, they didn’t show the faces, and I didn’t have enough time to check out the penis’s to see if I recognized them!
The drink hat!
Published March 25, 2009 | 
I am forever leaving my drink just out of arm’s reach while feeding Maia, and as I sit there dying of thirst and debating whether or not I should ask my husband to bring me the glass of water that’s literally five inches away from my outstretched fingertips, I wish I had one of these.
American things that would be better off as Canadian ones
Published February 6, 2009 | Since I have told you what I dislike about Canada, let me tell you a few of the things that I do like (please note that #5 is Ontario-specific, I’m not sure about the rest of the country):
5) Whatever, show us your boobies
Men can go shirtless in public almost anywhere — it’s pretty much accepted as a norm. Maybe not the classiest thing, but dude won’t get ticketed for public indecency just because he wants to show off his pecs. Well, here in good ol’ Ontario, there’s no discrimination based on gender, and if I want to walk around downtown Toronto with my shirt off and boobies hanging out, I can. I must say that I have yet to see a shirtless woman in the city, but it’s comforting to know that if I felt the urge to be a free spirit, I could pursue this urge.
4) Two Party Politics? Laaaame.
Canadian politicians are like pirates. They can form a coalition, stage a mutiny, and overthrow the party that was elected into power. There are like five different political parties represented in the federal government right now (it might only be four, but I think the Green Party got someone in there?) and it’s awesome. There’s a viable political party for most points of view, and although there are two big players who pretty much “win” all the federal elections, everyone is (at least right now) forced to try and play nice together. Things don’t go The Republican Way or The Democrat Way based on who has a majority — the way Canadian politics are structured at the moment means that all parties are heard, and the party in power has to be willing to compromise, for anything to get done. I love it.
3) Fries + gravy + cheese = love
Let’s be real: I’ve never actually had my own serving of poutine. Why? Because everytime it’s been available to me, the gravy in question is beef based. But I’ve ogled it, I’ve daydreamed about it, and I know exactly where Smoke’s Poutinerie is in Toronto, on the off-chance that I ever end up around the corner and hungry.
2) Extra “u”s are extra cool!
For as long as I remember, I’ve been spelling words like “labour” “armour” “humour” and “colour” with the extra u. This is slightly ironic, considering my prior rant against the pronunciation of “again”, but let’s be real: tossing a “u” in after an o is just sexy looking. Also, it makes crossword puzzles infinitely easier.
1) Seriously, you can go bankrupt just because you got sick?
I remember Chris coming down with a cold shortly after I moved to Canada. As he sat sniffling on the couch one night, he said, “I think I’ll go to the clinic tomorrow.” I answered, “Okay, but how much will it cost?” and he gave me this look like you poor little American. Sure, you know, universal health care has its problems; I won’t deny it. I also won’t deny that it’s absolutely hideous that a health problem in the US can eat through your savings and throw families into bankruptcy and turmoil. If I donate blood in the US, for free, it still costs you money to get a transfusion with my blood. If your child is born with sensitive lungs and develops a lung disease because of the “air quality” where you live, oh well, it’s all on your hands to take care of that child’s medical bills. I am eternally grateful that money will not have to be a concern when it comes to my child’s health.
Runners up: Coast to coast to coast (hand in hand with Sea to sea to sea), Strippers actually strip, Paranoia, paranoia, everybody’s coming to get me (except they aren’t) and The men are infinitely sexier.
Canadian things that would be better off as American ones
Published February 5, 2009 | I’m American. This gives me an innate sense of superiority over Canadians like my husband. Here are a few things about this country that I can’t get used to and will continue to insist are better the American Way:
5) I went to UNIVERSITY, not COLLEGE.
In the US, at least in my experience, after high school you go to college — whether you went to Connecticut College or the University of Connecticut, you still refer to yourself as being in college. In Canada, it is a point of pride to note whether you went to a college or a university. And heaven forfend you say that a university student is in college… you might as well spit in their beer and call their mama ugly. What the fuck? It’s a post-secondary education, you turds, no one except your fellow Canadians genuinely gives a damn about the word you apply to it.
4) Milk in bags
I know, this is cliché to complain about, but it still drives me nuts. Why does milk need to come in bags? Yes, I understand that it’s more economical. Still, it’s kind of gross. I get to handle what feels like a bladder full of liquid, plop it into a pitcher, and then I have to find something to cut off the corner with so the milk can actually escape. Making this hole just the right size (as well as not slicing your finger if you use a knife to do it) is a precise art that I cannot seem to perfect. That’s why I tend to leave a very small amount of milk in the bag and make Chris open the next one. He has more practice.
3) Again rhymes with “brain”, not “men”
Read that aloud. Uh-GAYN. Doesn’t it sound fucking pretentious? I know they’re speaking the Queen’s English, but Brits also say “vitamin” (the “vit” part rhymes with “zit”) and “zebra” (zehb-ra, not zee-bra) wrong, so I don’t buy the whole “we invented the language so we know best” angle. I wonder how Maia will pronounce this word.
2) DD-MM-YY vs. MM/DD/YY
This is why, on anything Canadian that I can, I write the date like “Feb 5, 2009″. Because if I write or see 05-02-09, I think it’s May 2nd, 2009 and that’s clearly not what I intend to convey. Now, I understand that it makes sense — most specific unit of time to least — but I still have to sit and ponder how I write the date because the American way is so deeply ingrained on my brain. Fortunately, most government papers, which are the only official things I’ve had to fill out, have DD-MM-YY written under the little date boxes so I’m certain to use the ‘correct’ format.
1) ABCD… blah blah… XY and Zed!
So imagine me singing this with my baby: “Q, R, S, T, U V, W, X, Y and Zed… now I know my ABCs”. THAT DOESN’T EVEN RHYME! I feel like this will be a battleground issue in my household, but hopefully I will triumph.
Runners up: What’s a Cheez-It?, It’s Grade One not 1st Grade (hand-in-hand with These Are My Marks, Not My Grades), and The Metric System May Be Logical, But I’m Not.