That’s promising! She’s still squeaky and uber-cuddly though. It’s terribly cute, and yet I feel bad saying that because I know she’s not her normal self. Ah, the biases and thought processes of motherhood…
Isla was up on the hour last night, and her temperament grew increasingly distraught as the night wore on, unfortunately.
This whole losing her voice thing? I don’t know what it’s about as, other than being up and crying (both so unlike her), she has no other signs of being sick. Her little self squeaks like a wee mouse delighted to find itself in a sack of flour. And surely not everything can be chalked up to teething, right?
Hamish’s solution was to bring her into our bed, but that distracted her so I kept taking her back. Then I’d feel a pang of my own separation anxiety, that she wasn’t feeling great and sleeping aaaaaalllllll alone. Then I’d think to me not feeling well, and I’d love a nice big bed all to myself. I’d just get things rationalized that she was fine and she’d be up and at it again. Poor thing.
Doctor’s appointment tomorrow so we’ll soon see what’s up.
The funny part about waking up so often is that your dreams are interrupted and you can remember them. At around 4:50 am I was starting to wonder if they were dreams at all, or a new pseudo reality… Yeah, it was a loooooonnnnng night!
Good gosh, Tams. Way to be melodramatic. And thanks everyone for helping me hug it out. :)
Got the yogurt cleaned up. It was enough to remind me that everything currently wrong is temporary, fixable and has the potential to be hilarious in at least a decade.
Case in point? When I was 17, my biggest drama was… … Yeah, see? Can’t even remember. I’ll bet it had something to do with a boy and a pair of shoes.
After all, if eleventween year old Justin Bieber (Beiber? Berber? Babar? NM) thinks he has mountain tops to climb, I feel confident that everything else will be just fine.
Wow, did I just say that? Ugh. Well, it felt necessary. I’m in a stage four code red sound the alarm pity party over here and, while I normally want to be at least a sarcastic bastion of positivity, I’m running out of energy for that.
I’ve pulled out every proverb, quote, happy face I can think of to snap me out of things. Positive thinking is just making me resentful today.
I. Can’t. Catch. My. Breath.
My mum is in hospital recovering from surgery, so there’s a natural worry. Isla has lost her voice, and it’s either something very, very small is lodged up against her voice box or she’s bruised her vocal chords; neither are appealing options. My main computer with *all* of my software is nothing but a glorified paper weight. This means I’m unable to deliver to clients at the moment, not great for a relatively new business. The developer asked that we not park in our driveway for three weeks so they could build the actual road and driveways; great news, but it meant I had to cancel three weeks worth of clients to the studio. And then, they’re now delayed in the construction, so it’s looking like longer. Again, not great for a relatively new business. I’m such a bad friend right now, and I can’t seem to come up for air long enough to fix that, spend time and reconnect. It’s a muggy sauna outside, but so cold inside, I have a headache, and I can’t seem to get the temperature right. I know. Woe is me.
Whatever. The reasons don’t really matter. All I know is that I went grocery shopping yesterday and spent $247 on… well, I don’t know. I looked in the fridge, the cupboards… It’s all Mother Hubbard up in here. Clearly, I’m distracted. I’m not myself. I’m treading water. In an effort to have my… er, stuff together, it’s actually going in the exact opposite direction.
I’ll snap out of it. I needed to vent. Thankyouverymuch for letting me. Deep breath. Yoga pose o’ the day. It’ll all be fine. Bad attitudes won’t get me anywhere. Takes one to know one. Law of attraction. Hug it out. Go Team Happy. Look at Isla, it’ll remind you of what matters. Life could be worse. Life has been worse. I know this. But stuff can still suck sometimes. And when spilling yogurt on my jeans — an act so inconsequential — is enough to send me into a tizzy, I realize it’s freakin’ exhausting to be so positive when it feels the cards are stacked so high in the other direction, even if the reasons seem trivial. Wah, wah, wah.
I don’t know how motivational speakers do it…
I’m going to watch this, and hopefully turn it all around.
Hamish is contending this is only his second time at Hillside with me. It’s too bad I have photographic proof he’s been here double that amount to prove him wrong.
“I want proof. And if proof is in the pudding, I’ll eat that pudding.”
Pulled this one of us at Hillside a handful of years ago… Babies.
Yet another weekend we were supposed to be in NYC and had to reschedule due to other pressing matters. Sigh… What a couple of weeks it’s been.
My consolation prize? Hamish surprised me with tickets for my favourite festival, Hillside Festival, in Guelph (Ontario) and so we’re off there today. A day “off”! A break! Fun!
I’ve been going to Hillside for years and years. I loved it before, and I’m certain I’ll love it in a different way this year.
This will be the first Hillside I haven’t had media access, backstage passes, camping on the island in the VIP area, staying up well past the park closing listening to jam sessions from the performers gathered. It’s also the first Hillside where I’ve been out of the music loop long enough to feel paranoid I actually know who are performing/attending. I used to be quite up on this stuff, people. Ha!
It’s the first Hillside where I’ve checked out the children’s area schedule, timed the day around nap schedules and actually thought ahead enough to be relieved Isla is still in diapers so I don’t yet have to navigate festival loo-lines with a toddler. It’s the first year I’ve been excited to realize I now have a stroller with us to cart all our stuff! (You can bring your own plates, cups, etc. and they’ll wash it for you, in an effort to reduce waste, plus blankets, camera, warm clothes for night, etc. etc.)
So that’s what our day is looking like: laying on our blanket listening to bands, workshops on crafting and sustainable living, a children’s drum circle, some vegan treats, and quite possibly being the only gal there with smooth legs. Oh, and Stars. How could I forget Stars. 9:50pm = Stars.
My favourite that year was the lovely Leslie Feist.
Yesterday morning after breakfast was for moving closets. Messy job! This is Isla “helping”… Read: pulling everything to the floor until I pile it again, haphazardly, so she can repeat.
My closet, much like my new home, is on the verge of yet another overhaul. I had gone years wearing the same clothes, adding to the collection but never really purging along the way, since high school. (Quick math: ten years.) When I became of the ‘family way’ it was necessary to pack everything away to make way for a new, roomier set of clothes; I lived in tunics with leggings or jeans, or long, flowy dresses and not much of it was actual ‘maternity’ clothing. I even took four pairs of old 7’s and Citizen’s to a tailor to have the waistband snipped off in favour of elastic. I was determined to bloat in style. Well, as much as I could, anyway.
In switching rooms, I’ve decided to switch wardrobes as well. I’m on my fourth giant bag which I’ve filled with perfectly-good-but-no-longer-good-for-me clothing in honour of an upcoming ‘naked lady party’ (clothing swap). I got honest about what looks good and feels great and wears well and fits properly. You know what that is? HARD. But refreshing. Clothes that are still lovely, but just no longer fitting of my lifestyle have been dutifully set aside in favour of… Well, I don’t know, to be honest.
Those gold things? They’ve dropped in the rotation severely… As in, the negatives. I think I need my friend Christie! I have a few things I’ve kept but I’m a blank slate when it comes to figuring out what’s next for me. I no longer need outfits for ‘music/alt mag editor out on the town nightly’ but rather ‘mom/baby photographer who gets assaulted daily by mini human bodily fluids’…
I’ve got at least two laundry cycles to sort out a new style before I get fed up with the downsized rotation or the season starts to change, but in the meantime… Isla had to stay put while I at least got what few things are left hung up!
Finally, something that fills the Neverfull, my veritable ‘Mary Poppins-I’m-so-pulling-a-lamp-out-of-this-thing” bag! I remember when we found out we were expecting. Hamish had just just bought this lovely number for my Christmas and birthday, looked at it and resolved it would make a great diaper bag. I think he could see visions of picking out a new diaper bag in my head and was trying to veer me off course… Didn’t work. I fell in love with not one, but two others. I have a purse habit… If only that was what I needed to refresh in my wardrobe, I’d have no problem!
“I can borrow this someday, right, mum?” Eeek. It’ll be vintage by then.
champagnewishesandcaviardreams asked:hi there! love your blog, i was just wondering if you read any baby/parenting books whilst pregnant? or if there are any you recommend?
Thanks! Yours too - so much eye candy!
Oooh, this is a good question. I read everything. Well, slight exaggeration. But I was couch-bound on early mat leave with severe morning sickness so I had lots of time to devour books.
Honestly, my list of ‘don’t reads’ is longer. Shocking, I know.
Two books came out on top, and I can’t say enough to recommend them:
This is a modern, refreshing and detailed book that I felt dished it to me straight during those ten months of carrying Isla. My sister in law lent it to me, and straight away I knew why she loved it as well. It’s very much a ‘secrets from your sister’ type book; knowledgeable without jumping on that cheesy ‘girls rule’ bandwagon.
Dr. Gowri Motha had better expect a big hug from me if I ever have the pleasure of meeting her in person. This book is downright lovely. As a medical doctor with a hand in all things holistic, yogic and natural, this book is wonderfully balanced from every approach. It provides a monthly recipe for keeping mum and baby feeling healthy and well. Even though my natural birth didn’t happen as I had hoped, I still felt reassured in the sense that this book helped me stay on my ideal course for months and months prior.
For baby’s first year, I also fully recommend these two:
Again, by Dr. Gowri Motha, this book is equally lovely. I’ve felt so confident in my first year as Isla’s mama with this book in hand. Month to month guidance on eating, massage, bonding, development and holistic treatments for ailments such as indigestion, teething and sleep… Great book!
And I’ve mentioned this book before, but lent to me by my other sister in law, again with the amazingness! I fully credit this book to having helped me guide Isla into sleeping soundly through the night as of seven weeks. And her tips on discipline and guidance for the older baby and toddler years are something I can really get behind, too, which helps.
I think, in the end, that’s what it all comes down to - finding books you can ‘get behind’. Books are merely dust catchers if you can’t find yourself interested with the methods inside, which is why there are about 10 books going out in a garage sale for every one book I found that I loved.
The Internet is also a great resource, but keep mind to not take everything you read in forums at face value. While a great support, they were also the source a few sleepless nights as I’d get scared, comparing symptoms and such. The best resource will always be your primary care provider coupled with your own instinct as a mama!
Whew! Still in the midst of utter and complete chaos over here. Laughable, really. It never bloody ends. Even if Hamish and I aren’t moving actual houses, it seems not one room can stay the same unless fixtures are actually bolted to the wall.
The studio is now in what was the master bedroom. I’m in love. Now that the computer is set up, I can’t wait to park here every spare moment of my day. And I say that in all seriousness - I’m really excited about this here business of mine, and all the projects.
Moving bedrooms wasn’t as bad as I worried it might be. Sure, the bedroom dimensions don’t exactly jive with a king size mattress but we have what I laughably call a ‘euro chic’ bed frame (read: the bed sits on the floor) so it feels cozy but not claustrophobic. Fine by me.
This week has wreaked havoc with schedules between expected rain, no rain and a few unfortunate reschedules I had to arrange. It’s been hit with some loss and some difficult situations that have both grounded our heads and made our hearts truly appreciative for what’s around us. I’m looking forward to next week — yes, my faith is always placed in the ‘next week’ — so things can get back to normal.
And then it hits me… good gosh, this IS normal. Cripes.
But, Internet! I’ve missed so much. So much. My dashboard is about to get a workout!
(Survey link at the end!)
So, I’m putting myself out there to ask this question. Business start up can sometimes seem so secretive but I’m desperate for feedback on my current conundrum. I could be really naive in thinking any of this is even possible, or pleasantly surprised that it could just well work after all. We’ll see… :D
We’re at a strange crossroads here at Chez Campbell; the drywall work and other repairs are nearly done, the house is settling as it should and we are finally ready to truly move in move in, despite being here since April. In being ready to finalize everything, I’m ready to officially move forward to the next step with my photography business this fall. I need to figure out how to make this space work best for us.
In the past few months, I’ve been providing a few complimentary test shoots in my home as a means to experiment with the available spaces and how to rig the best space into a studio that is inviting, professional and organized, but affordable (since I’m not renting space elsewhere) and not too much of an inconvenience on our daily lives.
I’d like to thank in advance anyone patient enough to help me out on this one! And state for context that
a) all my clients are/will be well aware that it’s a home studio they’re attending, and…
b) we plan to be here for five years and, when we sell, would stage it accordingly thereby nixing the studio during that time.
Here are my options/results:
- Pros> Completely finished featuring a relatively spacious full bathroom, corridor space for shelves to display props, blankets and equipment, and a clear enough rectangle of space at the back for actually taking the photos. Not to mention *just* painted by Hamish in anticipation of studio set up.
- Cons> I, for whatever reason, can’t for the life of me do computer work down there, so I “need” office space upstairs. It’s harder to keep warm for the newborn shoots. There is no natural light, so everything is reliant on studio lights. To get the studio lights functioning where they look more like natural light, not studio, I need to invest another $2K that I’d rather not. To date, I have been 6/10 happy with photos taken down there, compared to 10/10 happy with photos elsewhere w/ natural light.
- Pros> Lovely natural light all day long. Straight in from the front door, clients don’t have to go far in the house to be in the session space. Kitchen and powder room close by.
- Cons> It’s tight with all the furniture. Can’t accommodate family shoots. I have to lug everything upstairs and then downstairs before and after the shoot. It’s a high maintenance zone to keep up with during a shoot, since it’s tight for space.
- Pros> Natural light all day long.
- Cons> Too tight a space to have both my desk and a photo-taking set up in. Nowhere to store props, so I’m back to lugging up and down. Clients have to come upstairs in the home, which could be seen as unconventional.
- Pros> Natural light all day long from two windows. 3x bigger than the living room since there would be no furniture in it. Big enough to also accommodate my desk and work space. Walk-in closet perfect size to tidily organize and store props in the room, but tucked away. Master bathroom off it has ample counter space for a baby change table. Hamish would have space back, and could do whatever he wanted to the basement (den, office, rubber band ball construction, etc.) since all my stuff would be upstairs.
- Cons> We’d move into a bedroom half the size (totally fine with, but had to list it anyway). We’d have to walk down the hall to use our master bathroom (oh, the horror?!) Then again, do we dare use the master bathroom anymore? I know I’d keep it 120% clean, but would it be weird for clients? Clients, again, are coming upstairs which could seem unconventional. If we have another baby, we’d have to come up with a new plan (but that’s definitely ages and ages away, if at all). Instead of having all my clothes out/hung up, I’d go back to storing seasonally (again, totally fine with).
Whew. Have I thanked you profusely again yet?
My instinct is to move us into the third bedroom and make the master bedroom the studio, closing the bedroom doors when I have clients in. But professionally, I don’t know if I’m setting an acceptable impression with that move, and could use some opinions.
I’ve had the few people I’ve asked in person tell me yes, it’s fine, but am paranoid since they’re also the same people who told me I could pull off wearing the colour yellow.
If you could weigh in, that would be most appreciated! You can even do it anonymously by clicking here!
Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!
Today, Isla is nine months old. Well, it’s July 16th. She was born October 16th. I’m running on the 16th. Is this her OALASWI day? She was born at 41 weeks + 3 days. I’m horrible at staying on top of this stuff.
At any rate, huzzah! Isla is nine months! And being Friday, it’s “Isla and Mum” day. She came into my life on a Friday, and my Fridays have and will forever be (as long as she’ll let me) ours to not work, no chores, only play and enjoy our day.
As you can see, we got started with the playing early. My bathtub in our master bathroom is the perfect upstairs “play pen” for her while I shower and get dressed. We were up in a snap and getting our pretties on to be out the door for her nine month well baby appointment.
I always have the hot water tap hidden but used the towel hiding the cold water tap to wipe my foot from spilt hair gel, revealing it. Not long after, Isla’s… drenched. Curious girl…
My brother, a police officer, had an… er, injury I guess you could say related to his uniform (he’ll pull use of force training on me if I divulge further). At any rate, he needed to see the Dr. as well, and joined us.
Kisses for the baby in the book…
Kisses for Uncle T!
Her 9mos stats are all good, for those waiting to applaud my abilities to keep her healthy and strong for 274 days.
Wow. 274 days. (shakes head) Anyways!
My brother was insistent on picking up his shaving kit from his home police station before his next appointment. Despite the heat wave, while waiting in the car for him NOT IDLING — because I loathe 5min+ idlers, no matter the season — and Tweeting away while Isla slept (windows down for slight breeze) I failed to notice that no, my car was not going to start again.
And no, husband, it was not the battery.
20 minutes of tries, and customer service is on the line. Uncle T had to go to his appointment, getting one officer to drive him over there and another to bring him back, while I took Isla inside the station to gather resources and help. See, tow trucks + big honkin’ car seats don’t mix.
No, mum. Her learning to sign “brother” and “sister” is not my creative way of sharing news.
Anyway, Isla wanted to play with the toys they had at the station but, with both my dad and bro on the force, I’ve *seen* the people that hang out in the lobby and nuh - uh, she was not playing with criminal cootied toys (tongue lash my particularness if you will).
I set her up on her blanket with her own toys and made my calls while she laughed and waved at everyone coming in and out the station. And, oh yeah, filled her pants. Sigh…
All ended well and I laughed about the whole thing and it’s ridiculousness so this is truly an exhausted ramble at it’s
finest worst but… there you go. Happy Isla and Mummy Day for her possible OALASWI. Ta-da!
Isla looks older in this picture. Older than her nine months less a day. Well, less a few hours. I think I’m projecting, though, because as I put her to bed it hit me that she got me through the day, and not the other way around. Not the other way around like it’s supposed to be. And I’m already mad at myself for it.
It was just a climactic day featuring a series of events that require weighty decisions and getting tough with reality. It was also a day of other people’s lack of planning becoming my emergency, whether I liked it or not.
My family was wonderful. My husband, my friends, all wonderful.
But this little jam-face got me through. She eased it. She kept me laughing. She even patted my knee and crawled up unprompted for a kiss and hug when I was having a little sniffle. She did all the things that, as humans, we crave when needing comfort. But should never have the burden of at the age of nine months.
She didn’t listen, because I didn’t tell. My troubles shouldn’t be hers, and besides her troubles at the time were far more pressing: the red ball had rolled under the couch. Under the couch, people! That’s code… er, red, around here.
But she brought me back to earth, back to her and back to the moment, our moments. She cuddled with me all afternoon in and around the chaos, and even slept in my arms prompting me to rest my eyes and do the same for a hot second.
And she even read me a story. Apparently, I see here, a story about hugs and the potty. Ha! It was a perfect end to a totally and completely not so perfect day.
So lucky, I am.
See you tomorrow — on blogs, emails and designs — fresh faced and recharged!
G’night, friends. xo
Isla and I are bruised and blue. We look like we’ve been spun on high on a food processor. And then tossed in an industrial dryer for good measure.
It started with a small bruise on the bottom of my right forearm. Uh… That was from trying to change the channel via the remote while soaking in the tub, and not risk dropping said remote in said tub.
Then Isla got a bruise on her left cheek which just appeared out of nowhere. I checked to see if it looked like Mother Mary and how much a pic of it would go for on eBay, but then I was told that happens sometimes when they’re teething. And gnawing a lot.
Following this, I was lucky enough to receive a second bruise, this time on my left elbow, from all this sitting and leaning I’ve been doing at the computer this week on my newly inherited from the husband stainless steel and uber-hard desktop.
And then Isla brought it full circle, pun not intended, when she pulled the plug on her own tub during bath time, sat down on the stopper and had it suctioned to her little bum cheek. When I popped it off, the subtle circular marking soon gave way that night to a little bruise.
I told Amy I was bruised. She quickly assured me it was, what she calls, “stroller legs” from beating baby equipment around in order to keep the baby safely tucked under one’s arm. I told her it was from sitting and soaking in the bath, at which point I understandably lost all sympathy.
I just had to jot this down for posterity. I don’t want Isla looking back thinking we were rough n’ tumble around here. In fact, it seems we’re quite the opposite.
My view this morning. I may be having a rough couple of days, but it’s so not the end of the world.
That said, I’ve been sitting here long enough. I’m going for a walk. *On my own* for the first time in eight months and two weeks.
Granted, I’m going to pick Isla up from my mum’s but still… weird. I wonder what I’ll think about? Or if I’ll talk to myself by accident? Oooh, I can listen to music!
Having one heck of a week, that’s for sure. It just feels like the second I get remotely caught up, something else happens. On top of it all, I’m having computer problems and my response has wafted back and forth between ‘this is utterly and completely inconvenient, thankyouverymuch’ and ’aw, hellz no’… Like angel/devil. Like sane/insane. Like denial/accepting.
I’ve spent the day overhauling my hard drives, attempting to back up files and deleting things off the main computer that don’t need to be there in an effort to boost… I don’t know. Something. I just felt like maybe it would help. It seems to… I took to working on some pictures from Thursday in an effort to work out any bugs, figuring I’d rather the computer implode* (pleasedon’timplode, pleasedon’timplode, pleasedon’timplode) on my pictures rather than those of clients.
I’m glad it didn’t… I’d hate to have lost these pics of Isla with Hamish’s grandmother, her Gran, from our visit.
Isla is obsessed with this hilarious (and quite old) caricature of Moselle. You can’t see the stack of cards at the bottom, but she is quite the table mate. Very glam. Mo worked in finance in Montreal for much of her career, and partook in quite the lifestyle. Her closet? Swoooooon. I’ve been so very lucky to have been on the receiving end of many of her now-vintage treasures; Dior, Pucci, Louboutin… I’m ready to dig them out again, now that Isla’s over that whole spitty-uppy routine, I think.
You know you’ve spent a lot of time in a Jewish nursing home when you, out of the corner of your eye, think the instructions for the bed’s mechanics is some sort of script written in Hebrew.
Mo giving some gal marching orders after she screwed up her phone transfer. “Whippersnapper” comes to mind.
As active as Isla is, she’s quite gentle when maneuvering around. And when she wants to cuddle, there’s no budging her.
“Hey! That’s you!”
I’m so sad this one was blurry… It was actually an accident; I was just testing my light moving into manual mode as the sun started to shift. I just have to remind myself of my own little motto: a bad picture taken yesterday is better than none taken at all.
Okay. Back to telling this computer who’s boss. Hope everyone’s having a nice weekend!
I’ve been so good. I’ve worked so hard. I’ve spent the last 13 hours and 12 minutes in front of the computer working like a maniac and I think my primary external hard drive just crashed, and I haven’t backed up to my second or third external hard drive* since (counting fingers) Tuesday…
Trying not to freak out/panic/cry/scream/eat Nutella straight out of the jar.
Woe is currently me.
On the upside, Isla was so full of belly laughs and giggles tonight, that *I* got the hiccups from laughing so hard. That girl. So sweet. So hilarious. So smart…
I wonder how she is with external hard drives…?
*Yes, I know I’m neurotic. But it’s to prepare for instances like, oh, I don’t know… THIS!
This time last year, I was seven months pregnant. Pregnant enough to be an elbow shelf. And my husband came to me with an idea… He had found the perfect house, he said. It wasn’t built yet, but it was perfect, he said.
This wretched BlackBerry pic is what remains of my reaction. Okay, I may
or may not have been a touch melodramatic, but c’mon. Since living with Hamish, we’ve moved seven times. No, eight. He has a passion, a penchant one could say, for real estate. When I catch him sneaking away with the laptop late at night, I’m all oh, HELLZ NO… The late night fix of hot n’ sexy little numbers he seeks are not of the womanly kind, but rather the current MLS listings. ‘
Me? I’m a roots girl. My family’s restaurant was a 150 year old hulk of a house (grandparents lived upstairs, we lived next door) that was the cornerstone of the village’s downtown for three decades, providing such a comforting constant in my growing up. I’d love that for Isla.
So, between my extreme morning sickness and the other signs of entering the third trimester, we discussed and conceded to move. Since the new house was delayed, we stayed with my parents which, following the birth of Isla and my c-section, was a god-send. Not wanting to sell this place, we decided to jump in with what would be six feet and become a landlording family in an attempt to utilize equity now to realize our goals in the future.
Our current tenants are moving on due to family reasons, and now we find ourselves seeking new ones. In posting the ads, digging up the photos has me melancholy because I really did love that house. Part of me wonders how crazy we’d be to move back in and rent this current house? Crazy, I know. Yes, we’d be crazy. But there is still something about this house I like. I was really happy there. Care for a tour?
Our mish mash of a front hall.
Front room: office / dining room.
Open through to the living room with my favourite: a bay window.
The first bedroom was our dressing room. I had big plans for that room eventually.
The next bedroom was going to have someone very important sleeping there. I had just started to put the nursery together when we decided to move on.
Master bedroom. Another bay window… So bright. Loved it.
Tiny bathroom, and only one to our current three and a half. (Ridic, I know. New houses tend to go overboard with bathrooms.) But I loved this room, especially soaking in the tub with the window open, listening to the birds in the trees making their nests.
This backyard was perfect for entertaining friends, family and even bands who I had featured in the alt. weekly I edited, we’d host for a meal between sound check and their gig. I especially miss it at night, as I admittedly overdid it with fairy lights, making the whole place twinkle and glow.
Truth be told, despite it’s lack of character and size, I do like our new house, and I think I can grow to love it as much as the old one(s). That backyard is not baby friendly, truly. And the rooms featured old, dodgy wiring meaning I would blow dry my hair in one room and have to flat iron it in another…
We’ve had a rough start with moving in while the construction is being completed; it’s tough to stay on top of drywall dust and errant tools with a crawling baby and neat-freak neurosis! But we’re starting to paint and make it our own. We’re back in my hometown, and that feels like a warm hug (most of the time.) We’re a few minutes away from Isla’s grandparents, great-grandma and uncle not to mention an entire town that knows and loves her. And, most importantly, we’re in a place that allows me the choice to be a stay at home mum while pursuing my business on the side. Living here will be good.
Looking at my queue for Mamarazzi, I just wanted to put this out there that:
It’s been one of those so-hot-you-can’t-breath days and, as typical Canadians, this “news” (despite it being JULY) is enough to dominate Facebook and my Twitter feeds… Remember, my dear friends: you can’t shovel heat. You don’t need to salt the sun beams. The only digging out of your car is lakeside after you’ve jumped in for a dip. That is all.
I can’t complain: I was pregnant last summer which was unseasonably cool. I was completely comfortable (temperature wise) the entire time. If I was in the same position this summer, I’d be twirling a different tune!
Anyway, back to work… I’ll have lots tomorrow! Hope all are well!
Two festivals in the past two days… Lucky Isla!
Not quite sure of the pony…
Even less sure… Didn’t push it.
Ben eagerly anticipating cotton candy…
Sigh… Only my daughter would go to a fair and find a book more interesting… Well, until the music started. Okay, she is my daughter.
Back “home” - see? Isn’t their property amazing?!
Uncle Hamish guarding his precious shrimp ring.
Boys hard at play.
Okay, I could have sworn there were pictures of Amy’s husband Reuben. I kept moving my camera with all the little hands around, but I swear he was there taking great care of us all. His BBQ skills? Unparalleled.
The timing of this is uncanny… As i was reading this, Isla tucked into a stack of magazines beside my desk for just this thing. I was pretty chill… Until she got to the Blueprint and Domino stash to which I found myself exclaiming “Ohhhh noooooooooo! Those are ANTIQUES!”
But did you hear? Domino is now available in sorts through Brides.com.
i found out about the site productiveparenting.com when tamara mentioned it yesterday. i decided to check it out and sign up for the daily email of activities to try with harley, geared exactly for her age and development.
today’s activity was ‘tearing.’
This activity will be entertaining and help develop motor skills. Children love to tear paper! Take a couple of old magazines and show your child how to tear out pages.
since my mom’s home w/ her on fridays, i forwarded the email to her, without comment.
she writes to me:
I read the comments on the site and I agree: “I wouldn’t suggest magazines because they are too much like books. This produces a frame of mind that says “it’s ok to rip pages out of my books. I think scrap paper would be better”
Even scrap paper is sending a message that’s it’s okay to rip / destroy….it’s like giving a puppy an “old slipper” - it’s not fair to then expect that the puppy won’t chew on a new slipper - the puppy cannot distinguish which is old v new. Same with paper - you are directing the infant (providing the material) at this time, but how will that translate into childhood - baby / child will think it’s okay to rip / destroy paper. Baby / child can’t distinguish which is good paper v junk paper. Maybe I am over analyzing, but it just seems like not the most appropriate activity - especially using magazines! I guess if you are using “scrap” paper and the point is made/reinforced that this is only done with “special” paper it’s acceptable…..
Let me know what you think, b/c I don’t want to do anything that will have a negative result down the road….
chill out, mom! so i wrote back to her…
yes, you’re wayyy over analyzing. Babyhood is about experiencing everything new – textures, sounds, experiences. There’s a whole lot of time between ‘ripping paper to experience something new’ and her thinking destroying books is ok.
Let ‘er rip, as they say
sometimes i’m clever.
Isla’s top two teeth are just starting to break the surface of her gum, just enough that she can gnaw/grind/pseudo click them together with the bottom two.
I’ve found, as a result, this too is a noise that makes me involuntarily squeamish.
Gah. I’m hoping a cold, juicy teething ring I’m on my way to fetch provides us both some temporary relief…
In an attempt to help me figure out what to teach this sponge of a brain babies have, I receive a daily email from Productive Parenting.
I enjoy the site, and suspect I’ll use it more as she gets older. For the most part, it’s common sense or things we do anyway but I haven’t unsubscribed because I do enjoy a good ‘double check’ on the old “how am I doing with my parenting?” front.
Today’s tip focuses on “In” and “Out”… I’m supposed to put toys into something, and then take them out, and let her mimic me.
The only problem is that this is really the only In n’ Out I can think of…
Here we are, about two or nearly three months pregnant on a road trip to LA after my bestie Cait + Phil’s Las Vegas wedding extravaganza. Isla, but a mere bean in my belly, enjoying a burger, animal style fries and shake, and my copy of What To Eat When You’re Expecting conveniently turned over and hidden under a magazine in a moment of weakness.
For the record, I was so ill with extreme
morning all day sickness that I didn’t actually eat any of it. What a waste… I can feel Isla’s Auntie Cait giving me a virtual side eye as I type. And now, it’s not 10 am and I’d gladly move heaven and earth to tuck into one right now, and teach Isla what the true definition of in and out really is.
Here is Isla sitting in the tub prop, chatting it up with Miss Lily, who was between takes for her big “smash the cake” shoot in preparation of her first birthday this July.
Lily, as the eldest, was pretty pleased about being able to give her the boot.
Isla: It was a good first day on the job, jam-face. Consider yourself hired to assist on future shoots (that I am friends with their parents and therefore comfortable enough to bring you along and not have it look bad.)
Hey, remember when I forgot Father’s Day? It’s a good thing I document how good a dad he is every time I seem to look at him. Do I get points for that, at least? Golf claps? I’m working on a make-up gift, I pinky swear.