love. life.

I can’t gush enough about the wonderful job Kristina did of the photos, visiting from Washington for Isla’s blessing. Having her capture our family means so much… She’s captured my favourite memories of the day, and then some.

She’s definitely become tops in my books fast and furious, that’s for sure. I have a definite love for both her and her work. Thank you again and again and again and again, Kristina!

Why I thought this day was the right day for her to have strawberries, I’ll never know. We were both wearing white, and my poor grandma had to help me over the course of three days treat the stains. But, see her grabbing my hands? She loved them. Wouldn’t let me take them away. 

In one of her gifts, a mini adirondack chair to match my family’s garden set. I was blown away by the generosity of our family that day; I hadn’t even thought about gifts. They were the furthest thing from my mind, especially since everyone has been so giving already. Isla received some beautiful and delicate jewelry, books and other keepsakes that I can’t wait to put on display in her soon-to-be-finished nursery. 

Smooch.

I love the puzzled look on her face. It’s like, “MUM! Don’t you know I can’t read english, let alone french?!” Start ‘em young, I say. 

My morning “oops” of that day. I promise we don’t let her eat off the floor normally. It was very clean, unless you count the Cheerios. 

I’m impressed by this one! I’m shocked even one worked, considering how windy, wet, blustery and damp it was at Niagara Falls. 

Catching up on our tales…

So, last weekend, we went to my bestie’s house for a day-long play session and a much needed r n’ r. When I need it, Amz is like Christmas morning to my Grinch. She snaps me out of anything and everything within 30 seconds flat and makes my heart just swell with contentment of her easy, funny and sweet company. The girl has inspired me to smile for nearly 15 years now. Okay, I’m girl-gushing… 

Anyway, it was h.ea.ven on earth to be there that day - I didn’t want to leave, and I want to be back. She’s on a big slice of land the perches on a wide, flowing river in the sweetest country house I ever did see, with loads of grass and trees and a big back deck. Love it. Love her. Love her jam-faces. 

This is her oldest, Ben. He’s a deep thinker, and had my heart since the night I first wrapped my arms around his mummy’s barely-showing-yet belly. 

This is Mason, her youngest. He’s the ham to my cheese sandwich. He has my heart too. 

Let’s look again…

Couldn’t you just eat them up?! 

They all played in the pool. It was as blue as their scuba gear, if you can tell by the reflection, for all you Mamarazzi & Co. lighting co-geeks. 

Ben showed me his favourite bike. 

And pushed Isla on the swing. 

Mason and Auntie Amz wanted to play too. Isn’t she pretty? 

Isla’s a fan too. 

Isla has a hard time keeping her clothes on at her friends’ house. We’re going to have to work on that. 

Mason didn’t want Isla to leave. Isla, however, was asleep by the time her car seat buckle clicked. 

Fun day. Fun summer ahead. Yip-yay!

 nibblesandbits replied to your post: Well, hello there. That sort of thing terrifies me, but I tell myself that Ryan is getting to the age where he can move himself if he’s not getting enough oxygen. Right…? :) Also, not to be all advice-y, but I highly recommend sleep sacks instead of blankets.

Oh, it’s okay! I like advice!

And I completely, completely agree… We’ve had her in sleep sacks from day one but these past two weeks the girl is SO determined to move and stand up in her sleep that she was hurting herself because she’d fall and not be able to get her footing right in them. So I opted for the very loosely knit blanket and I always take the other one out after she falls asleep because it’s solid. 

On another note, my Tumblr dash is wonky. Am I alone? Every time I ‘like’ something, it sends me back to the first page. And I’ve been off the computer since THURSDAY. Do you know how many things that means there are to LIKE?!

This could take days. Or I could just tell you all en masse that I like you and everything you do. Group hug. 

*Yeah. That might not work. I hate feeling like I’m missing things. It could be a late night of catch up. But now, back to work!

I took a long weekend before our actual long weekend. And it kind of sort of backfired on me because I had a few posts queued for Mamarazzi & Co. that didn’t go through so there’s my big ‘whoops’ to round out the month of June! 

My head feels like it’s screwing back on tightly again, which is always nice. Isla’s sleep strike is lessening, but still a little present. Her previous notions to lie down and put herself into the final swing of sleep have been replaced by me needing to rock her until she’s out cold before laying her down.

The other night, she woke up and was beyond wide awake. Couple this with the fact I was tired and waving the white flag o’ defeat, I brought her downstairs to cuddle on the couch with some toys and books while we watched Top Chef. The rest of these are over on Mamarazzi, but this is my favourite, in spite of the reflection from our countertop… She was being so good, paying attention to the TV for a minute before going back to her quiet conversation with her bird toy. 

When we took her back upstairs, solely for the reason that we ourselves couldn’t keep our own eyes open any longer, she rolled around in her crib for what seemed like ages. When I went in for the final goodnight check, this is what I found:

Um, the child was completely tented by her blanket! After I checked and double triple checked she was okay, I quickly snapped this for posterity and unwrapped her. Hamish has officially stopped making fun of my need to go check on her before I go to sleep. This sight knocked at least a year off my life, I was so taken back. She, however, was quite soundly asleep. Finally. Sigh…

Work of Art starts on Saturday for Canada’s version of Bravo, and it’s the first show in a long time I’ve made a conscious effort to set the DVR for. I’m really curious. Has anyone watched it yet, State side? Worth it? 

We’re on night five of Isla’s sleep strike and, from all the kind words and empathetic, emphatic “I KNOW”s I’ve gotten, it sounds like she’s not the only tyke to be up to some slumbering shenanigans. 

I’ve just spent the past hour rocking her to sleep in a cyclical series of events: eyes roll to back of head, lids shut, suck on newly rediscovered soother, seemingly sleep for about 60 seconds, wail uncontrollably, cuddle back in suddenly quiet, start over. 

And can I ask how I’m supposed to rock a baby in this heat? I’ve stripped her down, but we’re going to have to put the air on because this sticky post rain humidity does even more damage to my patience than it does my frizz-prone hair. And I’m trying to be the world’s most patient of patient mamas. 

When I went into her room, she was standing up and I just stood at her bedside while she rested her head on my belly and shut her eyes. Child. Note to yourself: you need to sleep. Mummy’s gone doo-lally. Really. I’ve lost the plot. We both need to sleep. I don’t know how parents whose kids never sleep through the night do it. I really don’t!

Hamish has just interrupted vacuuming in his boxers (I wish I was kidding, and even remotely either embarrassed or even a little “he-eay mister man” by it but straight up, it’s that hot and the house is that drywall dusty.) He’s taken over after coming in finding me having a little cry as quietly as I could. He asked what I wanted and what was the matter, and I think that’s when he got all “hand me the baby”… 

Let’s see. Do you think I’m being unreasonable?

I just want her to sleep for her own benefit, not even my to-do list. I just want this week to be over. I would like the drywall dust to go away, the construction to be over, the number of tradesmen and workers through our house daily to be a big fat zero.

I would like my time to be better organized, to be a better friend and family member to those I’m currently not (read: everyone, but especially A + C + S + D + H), my business to work, my instincts to be back in tact.

I would love some global peace, some non-bias in the news, some major environmental repair, the G20 summit to be held via Skype, the oil spill erased, the world’s hungry bellies to have food, especially mama raccoons because I think they get a bad rap when they’re just trying to feed their babies.

No, I’m not trying to be Miss Universe. But these things really would be nice.

I’d like to extend my increasing frivolity here to include wanting Pinkberry to be in Canada and not that obvi knockoff Blush Berry. And I’d like them to bring back the green tea flavour when they get here, and I’d like to flavour trip on those wacky berries while eating it. I want to be back in Tokyo for a minute, and then the next maybe Berlin. Or most definitely back on the operating table for my c-section so I can relive the past eight months knowing just how much I really need to savour it all, because I have, but then again, I had no idea. 

And what I really want? I want Isla’s children — my future grandchildren — to really love her as much as I do and not put her in a home and forget about her when she’s old and never visit her. Because that’s my baby they’re forgetting and ignoring. I will haunt them from wherever I am if they do. 

And so? With the notion that I’m going to haunt my unborn future grandchildren should they mistreat my lil’ baby, Hamish has yes, indeed taken over getting Isla to sleep.

And reminded me that I can’t be Miss Universe because I’m married. I’d have to be in some ‘Mrs.’ pageant. Harumph.

So, I’m going to take my cranky weepy woe-is-me self and have an early night in preparation for what I predict to continue, the hourly wake-ups between 1am - 6am. 

Sleep deprivation, y’all. It’ll make you crazy. 

xo

•

•

•

I forgot. I forgot. 

I can’t believe I forgot! Well, that’s not entirely true. I had an inkling it was nearing as I had some sessions booked with clients that were directly related to the occasion but I cannot believe how sorely I overlooked yesterday as being what it was. Poor husband. Poor dad. I’m really not on my game right now. 

Thankfully, Isla was just as into the pair of them yesterday as she always is so hopefully her smiles partly made up for my horrible indiscretions. And I plan on making it up to them soon. Double pinky cross my heart swear. They totally deserve every bit of doting a Father’s Day would normally entail if I wasn’t completely in another world right now. 

We spent the day at my aunt’s for an annual BBQ that was lots of fun and I’m beyond thankful for. There was (mostly) lots of pool fun… This is Hamish dunking Isla for the first time because I’m too chicken crap.

And this is exactly the face as to why I’m too chicken crap. I really need to get her into the pool more, and into some swimming lessons because I truly want her to be comfortable, confident and ecstatic about swimming. 

And apparently some decorum classes, as well. Hardly the most ladylike way to enjoy a post-swim tipple, I say. 

Fuzzy hair. Just because it cracks me up. 

It was a long week. I was ready for the weekend to come, and I still feel ready for it, even though it’s halfway done. Sob. My camera is “home” with me again after a long week of me leaving it at my mum’s. Forehead slap.

Pic overload as I get ready for some tutorials with Mamarazzi and clear out the pics I took last night at our impromptu BBQ…

Isla may or may not have lost her clothes somewhere in the garden while walking with her Grandma. I love summer…

Magnum loves it too. Save for that whole ‘fur coat’ bit. He chose us and our spot o’ grass to dry off after a dip in his pool. 

*blank stare*

I’ve got nothing! No pictures, not a thing! Yet.

Isla’s blessing was beautiful, if I’m allowed to say that myself. It all came together as I had hoped, in every single way, except for one thing that I completely spaced on.

Our Internet lines were hit late last week so being online and killing time was no longer an option; I had to get down to work! I made the rest of the sugar cookies, 40 individual quiche and a few other dips and sauces for the tables. I also watched the weather forecast meticulously, wondering if watching was actually jinxing me!

The morning of, I woke up at 5am to be the first to write in her guest book. After I stopped bawling like the sap that I am, I managed to write she can make her own spiritual path, that we’re only here to help, and that we her parents, ourselves, are still learning our own. But that I never wanted her to stop wondering. And that there was nothing wrong with wondering that maybe, just maybe, there’s more. I wrote that I rely on science to blow my mind with it’s answers to many of life’s unique questions, but that science is very black and white, right or wrong. Science, to me, is not creative. And that when she wonders why there are thousands of flower species in the world, or rainbows of colours beyond the primaries, or the need for family and friends and community beyond her infant needs, the answer can sometimes very well be, ‘well, why not?’ And that heaven can wait, and that’s the beauty of it. 

After my first foray into putting such things on paper, new for me, it was time to hit the ground running. Everything was taken over that remained and the set-up got to work. It was drizzling, but hello, my name is stubborn. At 10am, one hour before everyone was set to arrive, I turned to my dad and said, we have exactly enough time to take everything inside to set up there. He wouldn’t let me. 

And it was fine! It wasn’t sunny. The kiddie pool wasn’t set up. Everyone had on spring sweaters or light jackets. But it was actually for the best. Everyone was thrilled not to be roasting in Ontario’s notorious humid heat. And the photographer, the lovely Kristina — a family friend in from Washington — got better shots due to the lack of harsh light! I can’t wait to see them!!!!

Isla was a complete darling but a bit of a ham throughout the ceremony; too funny. She blew a few raspberries and clapped as well, but mostly waved at the circle of family and friends surrounding us; her timing seemed to be bang on. It was amusing. 

I’m so thankful for everything yesterday, for those who were there in person and in thought and spirit, and for everyone’s well wishes. It was a nice lil’ day for our lil’ Isla. 

As for the one thing I missed, our gift to her is going to be a pear tree that we’ll plant in my family’s garden. But I forgot to order it well enough in advance, so sadly it wasn’t there for planting. But this summer, my cub, you will have your tree. And next summer, I will go, “huh… I really thought these things grew faster” half joking, half impatiently. And my mum and dad will be put on notice that they can never, ever move. 

Isla has been a great help getting ready for her blessing this Sunday. Well, in her own way. She’s been napping lots, smiling while we did all the shopping, and playing nicely during her awake time on her own while I craft beside her. If only she could sweetly ask Mother Nature to keep us from the impending thunder storms set to hit on Sunday!

And sitting eating mum mums while I “iced” 75 cookies.

These cookie cutter kits from Williams Sonoma are very fun and user friendly, but I still feel I need a few more rounds of practice on the whole sugar cookie baking front. I’m a savoury baker, usually. Quiche. Breads. The like. Or cakes. I can do cakes. These were a departure, and a rushed one at that. Fingers crossed Magnum, the family dog, doesn’t end up with 74 of them voluntarily stuffed into his Kong chewy!

So, now just to think about that rain and a back up plan.

I fear, my friends, I must rescind an earlier statement. Isla is sorry she got us all excited, myself included. 

Isla can crawl. She just won’t. Or, more likely, doesn’t know she can. Either way, crawling crept to a halt about the same time my last post — the one right before my Internet blackout and deprivation due to a construction mishap — had gone live. 

She was genuinely startled as the tradesman used the loud equipment and that lil’ babe headed straight for me! Talk about fight or flight reflex in motion. The aerial view was breathtaking, and something I’ll never forget. She just went. And where she went? Me, for comfort. Watching was tempting but obviously I was going to pick her up. 

Well, the rest of the week she has not budged in the forward motion department. She still crawls backwards. In her attempt to crawl, she still gets herself into enough yoga positions that I find myself following suit, congratulating and adjusting in her impressive downward dog, plank position, triangle pose and finally, the aptly named child’s pose before I declare namaste and fetch us a few green teas. Except I don’t get one for her. 

I really should be careful what I wish for. We need to buy baby gates soon, anyway, but I can’t help but feel that this month is about to mark the end of an era. I just hope that, amidst the crawls and climbs she’ll still settle in my lap for a few cuddles and stories.

Well, she’s crawling!

A construction worker came into hammer something and she got so startled she just upped and came at me!

I was so torn between comforting her and watching her in this next milestone. I chose comfort. Seeing if she’ll do it again now…

I feel old. 

I know I’m not old. But I feel old. Internally. 

Up until the day Isla was born, I used to look at all those back pain commercials and the like and wonder what all the fuss was about. Robaxa-wha? Up until Isla was born, I could move and jump and dance like no other. Up until Isla was born, I paid attention to my body and even *gasp* took care of it!

Isla was a big girl when she was born — 9lbs 2oz, in case I haven’t whined about it before — and was big huge when I was pregnant. Here is me on her due date and here is me at eight months after scaling the Brooklyn Bridge. My knees, I don’t think, were ready for the extra baggage. 

My brother accidently stood on my foot with the weight of his tank-o-a-police-officer self and a wheelbarrow filled with sod. This was Monday. My foot still hurts, but I totally forgot and have quickly adapted to the pain because Isla was fine (she wasn’t even in the backyard at the time) and that tends to be my focus.

Whoops! 

Playing on the floor with Isla daily, hopping up to get her things and back down again to play some more, is taking its toll. That picture up there? Of us quietly reading? It was followed by enough internal cursing that would make fleet week blush as I hoisted myself off the ground. Climbing the stairs for every little thing I forget, or to comfort her at nap or bedtime, is taking its toll. I’ve even put a toothbrush and paste in every bathroom so I don’t have to go up or down unnecessarily just for my own teeth! 

I just borrowed my mum’s Kitchen Aid mixer and holyohmygosh why didn’t anyone tell me how heavy those things are?! You can tell I bake all. the. time. right?

This week, I’m going to get back to doing yoga daily as I used to, and I’m completely going to overhaul my posture. I’m also going to get back to my long walks I did when she was first born. And I’m going to get an ergonomic desk set up rather than a pretty desk set up, harumph. And yes, Hamish, I’m going to finally fulfill my scrip for physio. I’m ready to admit I need a remedy; I’m tired of feeling like a bag of sore, old bones!

Noticing a trend… I’ve forced a self-imposed bedtime of 10:30 on myself so I didn’t get to post these last night. 

Yesterday was, in a word, insane. It was just busy. Like, busy. But not really, at the same time. One of those days, you know the ones, where you get home and your body is all ‘whiskey tango foxtrot’ and yet you can’t actually recall very much productivity. 

It was a day of errands all over town, and a day of getting Isla in and out of the car. That’s one thing about our suburban digs I often forget about. I always try to plan our missions so I can park, put her in the stroller and walk to accomplish most of them. It’s for the environment. It’s for her temperament. It’s for my sanity. 

But yesterday there was none of that. Everything couldn’t have been farther from each other, and poor Isla did not understand why she’d be out the car seat only to be right back in. Her naps were haphazard. Her eating off course. Thankfully, she was mostly a good sport about it all. 

To give her a break, we had an impromptu picnic at the lake under one of my favourite trees, waiting for Hamish to get out of his meeting. Matching shoes n’ all. 

She was in a stare down with the seagulls. She’s very protective of her Cheerios.

One strange thing about our car is that every once in a while — and I mean, rarely — when I’m stopped at a red light and then go to accelerate, it will rev but only roll along as if it’s in neutral. This happened yesterday while in the right hand lane on a two-lane road with a lower speed limit of 50km/hr. I immediately put my hazards on, rolled to the far right and since the window was down, motioned for the guy behind me to go around. As I’m fiddling with the car and Isla’s squealing in the backseat, I notice the guy has not gone around (despite there being no other cars, he could have) and is instead filling his time by honking and shouting and giving me the finger. Then he revs up, pulls up beside me, calls me a b*tch, and squeals off. Seriously? Wow. I hope he feels better. 

I have road… er, disapproval. I may be horrible with directions, but I’m covered when it comes to safety. I’m often offering a running dialogue picking out people’s unsafe and accident-waiting-to-happen mistakes while I drive, getting totally fired up about it. But it’s an internal dialogue, and that’s it. But this guy? Ridiculous. Not to mention a major accident happened outside of my family’s home that morning, all because people were in a big bloody rush and not looking. I know I’ve always been an overly critical driver when it comes to safety, but now with a baby… ‘Protective’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. 

When we arrived at the lake (after I had sworn off driving for at least 20 minutes) a lady gave me her parking ticket because she still had time left on it. Faith in humanity restored at least 10%. And then I paid it forward giving it to another family for the remaining hour left. Karma banked, fingers crossed.

Getting home that night was all about quiet time. Much, much needed. My nerves were frazzled! 

New day, right?

Miss Bucket, in reference to this ol’ britcom Keeping Up Appearances that I really only expect my mum and grandma to nod in agreement to, and Hamish to roll his eyes at. 

Thanks everyone for your incredibly ‘sweet my tooth now hurts’ words about our wedding photo in Paris. And pregoblogger for busting through tradition for lil’ ol’ me! You gals are swell, indeed.

Aside from the nice notes, I’ve received a few questions — all anonymous and all of a similar vein — so I’ll just answer it in a lump here.

If you’d like to see the rest, this link should work still. 

We always joked about eloping but it wasn’t in the cards. This was just a fun alternative, nothing official. Although I did have to convince and unfortunately offend a nice lady in Montmartre the morning of the shoot; she wanted to come to the church which is I gather quite customary and I had to explain in my broken Canadian bilingual ‘franglaise’ that no, it was just for fun, she couldn’t.

Hamish found our photographer Stephen Zezza on Craigslist’s Paris board. We had the shoot scheduled for the first full day in Paris but, being October, weather was finicky so we had to wait until the second last day to get the sun and clouds in our favour. If you’re planning on doing this, definitely take these logistics into account. Being in a city for only a few days might thwart your plans, so double check for your own sanity, the highs and lows!

We packed my wedding dress and his suit in a see-thru plastic quilt bag and carried it as hand luggage on the plane with no problems. It was 2007 so the restrictions of luggage weren’t as hefty, and we didn’t pay extra to bring it along.

On the day of, we hired a car to drive us from location to location which made it quite efficient. Stephen was great; we could have navigated it ourselves as we had been all week but he knew what spots were must-haves. Along the way, we were snapped by countless other tourists, sung to by elementary school boys, photographed as part of a secondary education class project, and offered money in exchange for my veil! It was very odd being so looked at. 

My dress was from Pronovias and my mum picked it out. She knows me well. My veil was from Bridal Veil Falls in NYC, which happened to be on the same block as my bestie’s old apartment before they moved to midtown. 

As for the rest of my wedding present, it was in short, the letter to end all letters and a frivolously unnecessary but totally fun and skirt-twirl inspiring shopping spree on the Champs, all items from which are now tucked into dust bags on my shelf, replaced by a diaper bag. Oh, times. They change.

Thanks for dragging me down memory lane, everyone! I highly recommend a post-wedding shoot either on your honeymoon or locally when you get home, and am starting to offer them in my business. It’s all the fun and fashion without any of the time restraints. And like most people need an excuse to wear their dress again. Twist that arm, why don’t you. 

When I first got to the retirement home to visit Hamish’s grandma, she wasn’t in her room and I couldn’t find her on her floor so Isla and I just hung out in the hallway waiting for her. Outside all of the rooms are glass display cases where the residents put pictures of their family. Straight up, it’s so many of them remember how to get ‘home’ but, truly, it’s so lovely to walk down these hallways, filled with memories and love no matter the reason.

In our family’s case is this picture, among the others. It was taken on the last leg of our honeymoon, and was part of my wedding present from Hamish. 

As I was standing with Isla, a lady came out of her room on her way to dinner and stopped at the case. She looked over, recognized me from it, and went on to say that she stops and looks at that picture twice a day, how much she likes it, likes that we “had the guts to take my dress to another part of the world” and that it reminds her both of her favourite movie and favourite time with her own husband. 

Funny. Sweet. It was very nice of her to say, and 100% made me well up like the mush-pot that I am as she talked about travels with her family. 

Traveling so far has been amazing, but I can’t wait to bring Isla and see it all again through her eyes…

Monday, Monday. 

My grandma and I went shopping for more supplies for the blessing, and out for a nice lunch. Stopped in at a store where you received a free reusable shopping bag with a purchase over $50. I feel strongly that my purchase of $160 warranted three bags but there was a line-up and I wasn’t in the mood to make a fuss by breaking my purchase up into three different transactions. Just to get two more bags. That I have no room to store. And don’t even really like. 

I think it’s just because they remind me of something out of Desigual which reminds me of the first leg of our honeymoon which reminds me I haven’t been on a plane in a while.

So I came home and listed all the places that are ‘must-travel’ in the next few years — some new spots, a few old favourites. But the travel bug is back in effect.

All because of a darn bag. 

We went to visit Hamish’s grandma — Isla’s gran — at her retirement home downtown Toronto. It’s a nice place, and that’s often hard to say. The building is very contemporary in its architecture and the walls and lawns are filled with MOMA-like modern art and sculpture. It’s not depressing in the least, which makes it a heck of a lot easier. But then you get the abrupt reminder, like when Hamish’s grandma was on her way to the ladies room and an elderly man followed her in because he was lost and couldn’t find his way back to his room, of where you really are. Had to go and get him, guide him back. Oh, human body. Why must you fail us. I really take health and well-being for granted sometimes. 

The food? Well, that’s the downfall. We skipped out on the tray dinner and went for Thai up the street. Isla loved the waving cat and reciprocated. And then she ate a great dinner. And then she started to yell, squeal, audition for America’s Worst Idol. Something like that. She wasn’t unhappy, just finding her voice. In surround sound. She was very amused with herself, but I was the opposite, and ended up apologizing to the other patrons on the way out. Dinners out in the city may have to be put on hold until this lil’ phase passes. 

I’m bummed that I a) forgot the ‘real’ camera and b) that this came out so dark and blurry. It’s a real shame I don’t know anyone who has a blog about this very topic… Forehead slap. 

Not a dumb question at all! I had never heard of it either but chalked that up to inexperience in the parenting department. I guess it’s not as popular as I thought!

A blessing is pretty much the ‘write your own vows’ for the baby set.

Due to a host of diversity among our family with respect to religion and non-religion, we wanted to do something but wanted it to be inclusive of everyone and everything. Also, I’m not one to push views on others and that goes for Isla as well. I’m still figuring out my own relationship with spirituality so I can’t expect her to grasp it all at once either. All I know is there are a wealth of little reasons why I felt compelled to have a ceremony, so we sought a non-denominational minister who introduced us to the idea of a blessing rather than a by-the-book formal christening. 

Our minister’s ceremony is putting a stronger emphasis on the grandparents rather than god-parents. In fact, we’re not even having god-parents, but rather what our minister calls a ‘god squad’ — cute — with the emphasis being on supporting the child in day to day life with morality and common decency rather than leading them down a specifically religious path. 

Despite the chilled nature of the ceremony, it’s been a pretty drama-filled planning process — straight up, more tedious than my wedding — which is probably why I’m so bloody high strung about it. I didn’t give a toss what happened on my wedding day so long as I made it to the airport the very next, but this? I’m even surprising myself. And this site here, well it hasn’t helped. At all. I really need to simmer because truthfully, you’re right, I’m sure it’ll be lovely no matter what happens.

Took Isla to our favourite local sushi resto this weekend. She’s been many, many times both while in my belly and out, but this was the first time it dawned on me she could actually have some of the food. 

This baby led weaning is progressing hilariously, messily and wonderfully well.

In the end, she enjoyed avocado, rice, and some cooked, soft veggies. 

As for dining out with a seven month old? In order to not repeat this incident, we’re pretty prepared. Two books, snacks and timing. It’s all about timing. We’re all about dining with seniors at the early hour of 4:30 pm if it means we get a good few hours to tuck into all-you-can-eat sushi bar rather than a very rushed, stressed venture at 6:30. 

Can I just sing the praises of this wonderful piece of product design?!?!?! Received as a very generous shower gift, to say we love our Minui HandySitt would be an unbelievable understatement. It takes up zero room in our dining room, folds flat, weighs practically nothing and adjusts to pretty much any chair when we bring it to restaurants with us. 

But I think it’s time to start bringing this with us. After all those years cleaning up after kids at our family’s restaurant, I’m that mother crawling around the restaurant floor picking up bits of food so we don’t get eye rolls on the way out. Going to pull it from Isla’s closet, and see what other treasures are in there she may have grown into lately… 

The things kids love as “toys”, eh?

Isla is oh so very close to crawling, but I would wager (because yes, I gamble when it comes to children) that it’s not necessarily going to happen, like, tomorrow. She’s got the concept, but no will nor want to keep those knees up. 

Every night, Hamish gets home and waits patiently for her to get up from her third nap of the day* before he nothing short of teaches her how to crawl around the living room floor. By a helping hand placing her limbs. By example. By helpful suggestion. By coaxing with promises of ponies and Paris. (Hey, Hamish. I can crawl. And I can even walk. And hop on one foot. Just sayin’)

I stand back, both admiring and grimacing in equal parts. My beautiful child can nearly move around the room! Crawl into my open arms! But, that well-meaning ninny is going to teach her to crawl and then tra-la-la off to work in the morning, leaving me with a mobile and curious baby and no baby gates (yet). 

Don’t get me wrong. I want her to advance as a blessedly functioning human being. I want her to own each milestone she’s worked so hard to master.

But I love this stage. This “Look, mama! I can sit all by myself. Not topple over. Reach and grab toys. Play nicely on my own while you do things near and around me. But I’m not going to go anywhere without you knowing about it first.” I feel like it’s this stage, and then I’ll be secretly researching GPS tracking devices for the car before I know it. Clearly, no happy medium. What can I say, I’m feeling dramatic. Ha!

* Yes, she takes three naps. Sometimes two. Poor me. I know, I know. But I’m not sitting eating bon bons, y’all! Those naps… well, let’s just say they’re well spoken for in the ‘to-do-list’ owning department. Very loudly spoken for!