Day trip

Yesterday Henry and I headed up to Big White Ski Resort with Dave and Kristy for a few hours of fun in the snow. We didn't ski or go tubing, but we did get to climb a few snow mounds, hang out in the village, and ride the gondola between the two main village areas. I used to ski at Big White almost every weekend when I was a teenager, but I hadn't been up there since 1990 or so. Like almost everything else associated with Kelowna, the resort has grown exponentially in that time. Also, it seems that everyone who works there is Australian.

It's nice that Henry's starting to "age in" to these kinds of activities; he's at the point developmentally where he appreciates the novelty of going somewhere new and can actively take part in the fun. Here are some photos.

Merry Christmas!

Busy morning around here. Henry was officially Spoiled Rotten for Christmas, so it took quite awhile to open all his gifts. Quote of the day from him: "Wow--look at all these presents!" Wow indeed. I posted photos of all the fun: click here to check it out.

Travel + Leisure

We're off to Kelowna tomorrow for Christmas. Coincidentally, CNN featured an article on Okanagan wine country on its travel and leisure site today. I still can't believe that the podunk town where I grew up is now peppered with all these
frou-frou wineries and artisanal cheese makers. It's a very surprising development.

Where's winter?

The calendar and the thermometer have been out of sync for the last week. We've been enjoying remarkably mild weather, as in several degrees above freezing, for most of the month. It's been gray and rainy a lot, but I'd rather deal with that than snow. You don't have to shovel rain. On the downside, the Canal is nowhere near being ready for skating. In fact, large sections of it are completely ice-free. Unless things turn around quickly, it's shaping up to be a very short skating season.

Of course, one of the two really cold days we've had this month was last Thursday, when the official illumination ceremony on Parliament Hill took place. Hoping to break free of our usual stay-inside-itis, we decided to venture over and take in the event. What a boondoggle. First, I am not overly familiar with downtown Ottawa, and I drew more than one middle finger as I puttered around, clueless, looking for parking during rush hour. That task accomplished, we walked up to the Hill, and soon confronted the reality that it was cold. Really, really cold. Like, -12 C/10 F. Much too cold to stand around in an open area, waiting for Christmas lights to be turned on. Man, it was a trial. Officials from various organizations gave endless speeches. In Both Official Languages. All of it was rendered unintelligible by the tinny P.A. system. The Prime Minister gave a speech. I don't think I've ever heard a Canadian prime minister give a speech live. It would have been more meaningful if we had been able to actually hear what he was saying. We listened to garbled messages from all 10 premiers and 3 territorial leaders. More French. Blah blah blah. We waited for the lights. Waited and waited. It was pretty dark where we were standing, and Henry spent the whole time saying, "Can we go home?", and "I'm scared." Finally, the countdown. And then. . . not much. A snowflake pattern was projected onto Parliament. Maybe some trees or something were lit up as well--it was hard to tell from where we were standing. A choir started singing over the lousy P.A., and that was that. We hauled our frozen behinds back to the car and cranked the heat.

So the event was a bust. But hey, we tried. We redeemed the evening by going out to the local burger joint, where Henry proceeded to hoover two orders of mac and cheese, plus a chocolate milkshake. And on that note, I want to give my kid some credit. I complain a lot about the difficult aspects of his personality (the bad sleeping, the picky eating, the stubborn refusal to ride in strollers), but I'm happy to report that he's remarkably well behaved in public. The lighting ceremony was a pretty miserable way to spend an hour, but his complaints were quiet and totally legitimate. And it's really great that we can take him out to eat without having to worry that he'll throw a tantrum and force us to leave. As long as he's got some room to roam (and by this I don't mean, "as long as he can be a total menace by running through the dining room uninhibited") and a toy or two, he's almost always happy to hang out and take in the scene while we eat. And that goes for most other activities, too. So there you go--it's not all a struggle with him. Most of the time we have a lot of fun together. But I doubt we'll make it to the illumination ceremony next year.

Amazing Race: The most shocking conclusion ever!

I kid, I kid. I expected the outcome to be predictable, but I wasn't prepared for it to be so dull. And easy. It just wasn't the final leg we're used to seeing. Well, there were some enjoyably tense moments in the first half of the show, what with the missed trains and dueling airports and what not, but it kind of fizzled out after that. I guess the show doesn't have the audience to merit a 2-hour finale anymore, which is a shame. Oh well. Overall, I'd give the season a B. Great locations, good challenges, okay casting. At least the Junkies threw in one pissy argument before they waltzed to their inevitable prize. They were worthy winners, I suppose, but dull to watch. The McBickers, who amused me greatly with their petty grudges and hilarious fights, lost all claim to winning when they tried to follow the Junkies to the clue location in New York because they didn't know exactly where it was. Come. On. There must have been some native New Yorkers on that flight from Paris, or someone with a guidebook. They should have been working the plane to at least find out the right intersection. So that was lame, and then a bit of bad cab luck at the toll sealed their fate. A final Road Block would have been exciting. Oh well.

I wonder how far behind Bama ended up being?

So, the million goes to the favorites. Since they're models, I assume they live in L.A., where their million dollar prize, split in half and then split in half again by taxes, might buy them each a studio apartment in a less desirable neighborhood. Unless the rumors are true and they are in fact a couple. In that case, they can pool their money and get a 1-bedroom place. Enjoy!

I'm looking forward to seeing if the rumors about the next installment being an "All Star" edition are true. That will be something to see. In the meantime, back to real life for me.

Addendum: I was just reading a big "spoiler" website/dose of Internet crack where people from around the world report Amazing Race sightings. Turns out the Paris leg of the finale was filmed on the same day we were there in June. Do you have any idea how badly I would have geeked out if I'd seen a clue box when I went up the Eiffel Tower? Lordy!

All I want for Christmas is a king size bed

I found this article a few weeks ago. It turned up when I did yet another Google search for "toddler won't sleep." I shared it with Tom last night around 11 p.m., when Henry was entering Hour 3 of his prolonged protest about being put to bed. Yes--3 hours standing up in his crib, alternately crying, shrieking, or just babbling away to himself and his stuffed animals (that part is kind of cute). Just a typical night around here. As most of you are probably aware, Henry's poor sleep habits have been the dominating issue of our household since literally the day we brought him home from the hospital. For the longest time we've been searching for a way to get him to that by-the-book ideal of 10-12 hours of sleep at night, coupled with a 2-3 hour afternoon nap. Honestly, I might as well set my sights on winning the Nobel Prize for physics. We've searched long and hard for a solution to the sleep issue, but everything we try fails eventually.

Our experience has been very similar to that described in the article. It's funny that I found it when I did, because I've also given up. It's time. Tom and I long ago started suspecting that Henry just doesn't have the strong biological need for extended sleep that most kids his age do. (Many other times we've suspected that we're simply incompetent parents when it comes to this particular aspect of child rearing, but I'm over that.) In trying to swim against this current, we've been through it all. The countless sleep books read and techniques attempted in the hope that Henry would develop normal sleep habits. Positive sleep associations. The regular bedtime routine. The white noise CD. Etc., etc. We've Ferberized him so many times I think we should tattoo a trademark on his forehead. Sometimes we'll see a bit of improvement for a few months, but soon enough, Henry will go back to his usual routine of not wanting to go to bed, and/or not staying asleep for more than a few hours at a time. It's frustrating and exhausting. Last winter I was almost driven insane by Henry's persistent, repeated night waking, which I tried to deal with in the prescribed way by ignoring his cries in the middle of the night, hoping in vain that he'd learn to go back to sleep on his own. Maybe if we lived in a bigger house it would work. But there's nothing more miserable than lying awake at 3 in the morning, listening to the child in the next room shriek his head off. And doing that night after night. It is torture. And as Henry closes in on his 3rd birthday, I just don't think it's going to change in any profound way.

So, no more. I quit! Henry wins this round. We don't try to put him down for afternoon naps anymore. It's pointless. If he wakes up in the middle of the night, I don't go into his room for a quick soothing, then head back to my own bed, because he rarely goes back to sleep. No, I just go get him and put him into our bed. Yes, it's crowded. Yes, some nights he kicks and squirms like a rodeo heifer. But it beats the alternative (I lie awake while Henry screams his head off), and when he's close I can deal with subsequent wakings with a quick cuddle. We'll stick with our established nightly bedtime routine, and enjoy those evenings when he goes down without a fuss. But I just won't count on it happening every night, and I'll try not to get frustrated when it takes him hours to fall asleep.

On the bright side, one common denominator I've noticed with super-successful people is that they can get by on very little sleep. So maybe Henry's just priming himself for a climb up the golden ladder. In the meantime, the only practical solution I see to our little problem is a king size bed. What do you say, Santa?

Amazing Race: Memories of post past

Just a few more detours requiring upper body strength, the weak will fall away, and we'll be watching the two teams of young, strong guys battle it out for the money, along with that rageaholic young guy who'll be dragging his rageaholic girlfriend across the finish line while she calls him names.

Yep, I bet Tyler and James are already planning the bender that's going to start about 7 minutes after they find a payday loan store in Midtown that will cash an oversize check for a million dollars.

That's what I predicted back on October 10th. Two out of three ain't bad. But I have to admit that my correct picks were very easy to make. In a million years I never would have picked Bama for the Final Three. It's not unusual for a much weaker team to squeak through, usually through some weird string of good luck emanating from bad racing. I thought either Bama or Rage Against the Machine were doomed when they opted for the dreaded "needle in a haystack" detour over a relatively straightforward physical challenge. That decision usually spells doom. But then it turned out to be really easy to find a clue in the pile of tomatoes. So, what seemed like a bad decision led to a good outcome, and the DOA Blondes (who weren't given any obvious opportunities to overcome the half-hour non-elimination penalty) were out.

Obviously, the tomato fight detour was Comedy Gold, and I heartily thank that couple (What are their names again? Does anyone care?) for heading into the maelstrom. I also enjoyed dude's random emotional breakdown at the finish line. If they don't win the million, does that mean they won't get married? We can only hope. Regardless of the outcome, their bickering and Karlyn's personality disorder should make for an entertaining finale. And I'm sticking with my original prediction: Unless good racing brings bad luck and things get all messed up for reasons beyond the racers' control, the Junkies will win.

If Bama wins, I'll stop predicting forever.

Culture, smulture

A few weeks back the parents were asked to fill in an evaluation form for the kiddie music class we've been attending. Beyond the expected questions about how we enjoyed the class, etc., the form asked about the music our child listens to at home. Tom filled out our form, and I wasn't aware of what he said on it. Cut to last class. The teacher introduced the "dance along" music segment by saying she was very interested to read what Tom had put down as the music Henry likes to listen to, and that she was curious to see if he'd recognize this remake. Cue the music. Apparently it's a discofied version of some music from the opera "Carmen." It's no big surprise that Henry doesn't seem to recognize the tune, since we don't spin a lot of opera around here. I'm looking confused and the teacher is looking at us expectantly. The mystery is solved when another little boy's mom pipes up and says that it's her kid who likes to listen to "Carmen." To save face, the teacher asks Henry what his favorite song is. He says nothing for a minute, then offers, "um, Jakers!" Which is, of course, the theme song for a TV show.

Sigh. My failure to follow the dictates of perfect yuppie parenting is exposed yet again. Due to the limitations of my own musical taste and CD collection, Henry's mind is not being shaped by the magic known as "Mozart Effect" program. I guess I won't bother filling out his application for early admission to Harvard. Or Juilliard, for that matter.

O glorious morning!

Something exceedingly rare and wonderful happened this morning. Henry slept in--until 8:45 a.m.!!! It's a Christmas miracle, 22 days early. Usually he's rearing to go by 7, and when he does sleep a bit later than that, it tends to be on school days when we have to get up anyway. I can't remember the last time both Tom and I got to sleep in until 8:45 on a Sunday. Heaven.

A blast of winter

After several days of downright balmy temperatures, winter decided to show up today. A day of that delightful downfall known as "mixed precipitation," i.e. icy slush. Ick. The real freeze should be here any day. . .