Having a happy holiday

The crew is in Kelowna, digging out from the aftermath of a very merry Christmas. Did Henry get a lot of presents? Lets just say that if you own stock in any company that manufactures dinosaur-themed goods, you're welcome. Dexter gave himself his first tooth for Christmas, and is having a grand time playing with scrap wrapping paper and ribbons. Grandma Eileen is still a bit hobbled from her recent knee replacement surgery, but having the grandkids around has inspired her to walk without her cane, which is good to see. Tom and I are doing not much of anything, beyond the usual juggling of childcare tasks, reading of books, and eating of food. It's a nice way to spend the holidays.

White Christmas, anyone?

This is what our patio looked like on Friday, when I first blogged about all the snow we have:


This is what it looks like out there today:


The good news is that winter doesn't officially start for another four days.

If you listen closely, I bet you can hear me weeping. . .

The lull before the hurricane

Here's what's happening around these parts: Snow. Snow, snow, snow snow, snow. Snow. Seriously--there is an astounding amount of snow. I'm coming to terms with the fact that I have to invest in some real snow boots (I've been getting by with these "snow mocs"), and maybe even adult snow pants, to make it through the winter. Oh, the horror. As a west coaster, I really hate dressing appropriately for winter. But it's the thing to do around here, so bring on the knee-high snowmobile boots for grocery store runs and full-body puffer suits for walks to the mailbox.

Besides the fact that we're snowed in, all our activities are on hiatus until the new year. So basically we're sitting around waiting for Christmas. And waiting for Christmas is going to make Henry's head explode. He is so excited about it this year! We sing Christmas carols and play "Santa visits Henry's house" over and over again. I'm not sure he'll make it through the next two weeks without tearing through the drywall in a frenzy of frustrated anticipation. Ho ho ho indeed.

That's the fun stuff. Unfortunately, yesterday we got some bad (but expected)news: Henry has to have another eye surgery. It's been obvious since last spring that the strabismus is back. Or that it never really was cured--I'm not sure. It's nowhere near as bad as it was, but his eyes cross when he's focusing on something close to his face, and even when they look straight, his eyes aren't working together. The good news is that his vision is otherwise perfect, and the doctor says that since he's so young, there's still a chance that a second surgical correction could take well enough for him to start seeing stereoscopically.

Sigh. This surgery is going to be very traumatic for him, and us. He's already afraid of his ophthalmologist because of the eye tests he does, and he understands that going to the hospital isn't a fun thing to do. Last week he got a vaccination and I practically had to sit on him to keep him still for the needle, and he screamed a the top of his lungs throughout. So it's going to be very unpleasant and scary for him. I really wish I could believe that it will be worth it, but there's no guarantee the surgery will fix his vision. But I feel like we have to try. If it doesn't work this time, Henry can decide for himself when he's older about having further surgeries for cosmetic purposes. In the meantime, I just feel bad for my little guy.

Okay, I can't sign off on that gloomy note. Here are some pictures of Dexter to show how strong he's getting. The bouncy chair's days are numbered:

Tom's book

It's about to hit the shelves! Here's a description from the publisher's web site.

Oh my snow

Lordy is it ever dumping down today. It's hard to believe that official winter is still 3 weeks away, because we're getting hammered with cold and snow. Environment Canada is predicting this year will be the coldest winter in 15 years, so this could just be the start of a long, long season. Prepare yourselves for a good 6 months of weather-related bitching from yours truly.

Tom's brother, Jonathan, is visiting from California, and what a nice taste of a true Canadian winter he's getting. He's supposed to fly out this afternoon, but we're not sure his flight will actually make it. Anyway, the visit was short but fun. Henry loved having Uncle Jon here, and was very happy to escort him through the Dinosaur Museum. Jon and Tom took Henry sledding yesterday, an activity Henry has finally come around to enjoying (before now he only liked pulling his sled, not riding in it). We even went out for dinner with the whole crew and managed to eat a meal without either child having a meltdown.

In other news, Dexter is now 4 months old! He had his checkup on Friday. The kid weighs in at 15.5 pounds and is 26.5 inches long. He's a bit smaller than Henry was at this age, but still on the big side. I think he's in teething mode so he's been a bit grumpier than usual, but still cute as hell and mellow most days. We're also having some success getting him to nap alone in his cradle. This is huge for us because Henry never, ever napped in his crib. Dexter doesn't stay asleep for very long on his own (usually about an hour) and prefers to spend his nights curled up beside me, but it's a start. I'm hoping that we can move him into his own crib in his own room around the 6 month mark. Then we would only have Henry, a.k.a. the night stalker, to deal with. But I never get my hopes up when it comes to that kid's sleeping habits, or lack thereof. . .

Quote of the day

"Your poo song sounds magical today!"

Don't ask.

(Let's just say the boy still needs encouragement some days.)

Couch potatoes rejoice!

Tivo boxes are coming to Canada.

Finally, the Great White North is catching up to 2002.

Squirmin' worm

I love how babies this age communicate by kicking and squirming.

Boogie Days

Dexter has insomnia

It seems that Dexter has decided he wants to be just like his big brother and refuse to stay asleep for longer than an hour or two at a time. Hopefully it is just a phase. I'm working hard to get him into a daily routine that includes two naps in his crib, a tactic that never worked with Henry. But I have hope for Dexter. Hope!

In other news, I am watching The Amazing Race, but don't expect recaps. I barely have time to watch the show every week. So far, I've been enjoying it. No "young guys" team means the competition is wide open. And there's no other show on TV where you can watch a grown woman burst into hysterical tears because she can't milk a camel. Good stuff.

We're brothers. Can you tell?

Lately I had been thinking that Dexter really didn't look that similar to Henry. Then I looked through Henry's 3-month photos and was like, "never mind." From the nose up, the resemblance is striking. If it wasn't for Dexter's pointy chin and thinner face, they could be twins.

Baby chit-chat

I love Wednesdays

Today is definitely my favourite day of the week. Henry spends the a.m. in school, as usual. After lunch, I put the kids in our super-groovy new double stroller and walk over to a local community centre for activities! In a stroke of brilliant scheduling, this place offers a post-natal, mommy & me yoga class at the same time as a drop-off program for preschoolers. A miracle! Even better, the preschool class goes half an hour longer than yoga, so I can enjoy a coffee in relative peace at the nearby Starbucks before we all head home.

I like everything about the afternoon. The walk is beautiful--along a low-traffic road that runs up the hill from the canal, with views of the water. It's far enough to be a workout in its own right, especially when you're pushing a double stroller. Just having something to do would be great, but we actually really like the classes, too. The yoga is much more of a challenge than I was expecting. All the babies in the room make it hard to concentrate, and I usually have to stop what I'm doing at least once a class to tend to Dexter, but I do get a workout. And Henry LOVES the playgroup, primarily because the instructor is a dude. If you've spent time around Henry, you know that he much prefers the company of guys. If you put him in a room with 10 strangers (like, say, an airport departure gate), 9 of whom are smiling, friendly women who clearly love small children and are actively trying to get his attention by offering candy, and 1 of whom is a young guy wearing headphones and sunglasses, Henry will go talk to the guy every time. So he is very happy to have a guy leading playtime. Plus, all the other kids in the class happen to be boys, so it ends up being 2 hours of dinosaur role playing and dogpiles on the activity mats. Good times.

In short, Wednesdays make me feel like I'm living my yuppie maternity leave dream to the fullest.

3 months old!

Dexter is 3 months old today. This marks the official end of the "newborn" stage. He's had head control and been wearing 3-6 month size clothes for the last few weeks, so it feels like we actually left the newborn stage behind awhile ago. I have surprisingly mixed feelings about all this. Before he was born, I thought I might be impatient for the early baby stages to go by and his personality to emerge more fully. Instead I find myself relishing Dexter's baby-ness and really enjoying the simple pleasures a newborn offers. It helps that he has such a sweet disposition. Of course I love seeing him develop, but I'm just very aware of how fast the baby stage goes by, so I'm drinking it up while I can.

About that development. Well, Dexter's current favorite activity is making eye contact with a friendly face and having a little conversation that consists of cooing and giggling. It's not at all cute. Not at all. His head control is really good (he can now sit in one of those Bumbo contraptions), he grasps objects, and slowly but surely he's becoming mobile. Just some rolling around at this point, but I can no longer lay him down on a bed or couch and not worry about him crashing off it. He has more hair than Henry had at this age, but that's not saying much. Henry is still very affectionate with him; I suspect this won't change until Dexter starts to mess with his stuff. So we'll have at least a couple more months of peace before the lifelong sibling rivalry kicks in.

Happy Halloween

I'm too tired to recap the day. Here are pics.

Halloween countdown

Henry is psyched for Halloween. He's got a most excellent tyrannosaurus rex costume, hand made by Grandma Eileen, and he can't wait to go trick or treating. We put it on yesterday for a costume party at Hannah's, where it got rave reviews. Fun times.

It's interesting that he's now capable of anticipating a future event, which is a recent development. Henry enjoyed Christmas and Halloween last year, but it was more of an "in the moment" thing. This year, we're counting down the days. Of course, mommy is happily anticipating November 1, when she'll have a large stash of candy to raid.

Bathroom reveal

When I saw the new bathrooms on Wednesday, I felt a bit like I was on Trading Spaces or some other home makeover show where you leave for awhile and come back to some fabulous renovation. I'm sure my eyes bugged out and my jaw dropped. The transformation truly is stunning. The pictures can't do it justice. The downstairs bathroom went from being a junk closet with a toilet to a proper powder room with a large, enclosed storage closet. The upstairs bathroom is beautiful. We splurged on a granite counter top for the new vanity, and it was money well spent. Last night I had a bath in the 7-foot soaker tub and just marveled at what a pristine and attractive space it is. Aaahh!

It's especially sweet because in all that time that Tom and I have been together, we've lived in places with exceptionally small, cramped and/or grotty bathrooms. The only exception was an apartment we had in Richmond for one year, which was brand new. Besides that, it's been horror show after horror show. Our apartment in Madison had a bathroom with no ventilation, which caused mold to grow on the walls. When we complained about the state of the tub/shower in our second Richmond apartment, the landlord responded by paining (painting!!!) the tub so it would look better. The bathroom in our Richmond house was laughably small and was so outdated the sink didn't even have a "mixer" tap to create warm (rather than hot and cold) water. So the bathroom in this place was already, sadly, the second-nicest we've ever had. And now it's wonderful (by my modest standards, at least. If there's one thing I learned shopping for bathroom fixtures, is that some people are willing to devote an ungodly amount of space and money to their potty rooms).

Some "before" pics

Our new bathrooms kick ass

Pictures ASAP

Some Kelowna pics

Valley view


Pumpkin carving


Halloween preview

Kelowna visit: Busy busy busy

I've been in Kelowna for the past week with Henry and Dexter. Tom stayed in Ottawa to catch up on some work and supervise the endless final stages of the bathroom renovation. The boys and I are up to the usual slate of Kelowna activities, with the added twist of a visit last weekend by my friend Yvonne from Seattle (Hi Yvonne!), and a three-day work meeting for me (long story). Henry got to go to Auntie Kristy's preschool class today. He had such a good time he's going back tomorrow. Dexter is growing like a weed and doing fun things like learning to roll over. I'm contemplating spending a small fortune on an all-terrain double stroller. And that's about that.

We're here for another week. I'll try to post some pictures before we leave.

Dexter at 8 weeks, and our annual trip to CHEO

Dexter had his 8 week checkup yesterday. He's up to 12 lbs 8 oz and measures 24.5 inches. Those stats officially make him a big baby, which you can tell just by looking at him. He's kind of all torso at the moment, with stubby legs and arms.Beyond that, he's smiley and mellow and generally delightful. It's funny--I have this list detailing all the minutia of Henry's early weeks, with dates he reached little developmental milestones duly recorded. But beyond noting his first smile, I'm not doing that with Dexter. I know he'll get there with all those things. I'm just enjoying his babyness as a whole and marveling at how special it is to cuddle a little newborn. I know it goes by fast.

A few hours after I got home from the doctor with Dexter, Tom was off to the CHEO emergency room with Henry, who split open the back of his head falling off a kitchen chair. He was perched on it, rocking back and forth while playing on the computer, when it slipped out from under him. Sigh. I'VE TOLD HIM A MILLION TIMES NOT TO STAND ON THE CHAIR!!! Getting a 3 year-old to listen is a tall order, let me tell you. He's totally fine--there wasn't too much blood, but it was obvious the wound would have to be stitched or glued back together (it was glued). I wonder how many times we can take our child to the hospital with a minor head injury before the authorities start to ask questions? Or do they just understand that rambunctious children take their knocks?

An unusual visitor

Yesterday I was in the front yard getting the stroller packed up for our afternoon activities when a man and woman approached the house with a camera. They introduced themselves, and the man told me he had grown up in our house during the 1960s. The house had been in his family since 1904. He's lived in Chicago since 1971, and was in town to visit his old haunts. Since we have lots of questions about our old house, we invited him in to have a look. Unfortunately, the place is a chaotic mess because of the renovation going on, but he still got the tour. We were surprised by a few of the things he told us:

*The addition on the back of the main floor was there when he lived here. We had assumed it was more recent. My big complaint about this room is that there are no windows looking out onto the back yard. But when the addition was built, that space wasn't being used as a yard. There was a warehouse next door housing the family plumbing business (this we knew about), and our current yard wasn't all fenced off from it or anything. So the lack of windows makes sense now. I still don't like it, but it makes sense.

*The bathroom we are currently renovating was a bedroom when he lived here. So we couldn't hold him responsible for the incredibly shoddy work that was performed in converting it to a bathroom.

*The addition on the back of the second floor was his bedroom. And the little bathroom off that room was the house's original bathroom. Very interesting. Again, we had assumed the addition was a more recent vintage.

*The floors were already sloping in the 1960s.

*The closet and storage spaces under the stairs were there when he lived here. It's clear that the original entrance to the basement was under the main floor staircase, but it must have been changed a long time ago.

*The kitchen sink was where our fridge is now. That explains the tap coming out of the wall.

It was a short but interesting visit (I was gone for most of it--I'm just reporting what Tom told me later). The great thing about old houses is the layers of history you uncover. The bad thing, of course, is the decay and the layers of shoddy renovation you uncover when you're fixing them up!

(The bathroom is coming along. I think there's at least a week's worth of work left.)

Henry's new pastime

The quality on this video isn't great, so it's a little hard to see exactly what Henry is doing here. Basically it shows him in action doing what I described last week--using the computer to entertain himself. He's now quite adept at using the touchpad on the laptop.

By the way, my sources tell me that the Thomas theme song you hear in the video plays as a continuous loop in Hell. Enjoy!

Quote of the day

"That's the biggest infestation I've ever seen."

-- our contractor, after uncovering the HIDEOUS, DISGUSTING carpenter ant nest in our bathroom wall

Bathroom: Before & During

Our lovely bathroom pre-reno

The horror show behind the wall

Demo work is complete. The joists were not ruined by the rot, so work to fix the water damage won't be too complicated or time-consuming. We hope. Our front yard is piled high with debris. The new tub and vanity sit in our living room. Besides that, the mess is contained to the bathrooms.

There was a page of newspaper from 1919 under the linoleum. The article is about whether or not to disband the army. Soldiers interviewed were opposed.

Our next big project

Now that Dexter has arrived and our family is complete (yes, complete--we won't be "trying for a girl" or otherwise compelling the purchase of a minivan by having a third child), we're moving on to our next big project: bathroom renos!

Our house has 2.5 bathrooms. 1.5 of them are getting redone. The main bathroom upstairs is being gutted and rebuilt. Cosmetically, it was looking very 80s and more than a little grotty, but the big motivation to do this project was the leak in the tub/shower that was causing water stains on the ceiling below. It's obvious the damage was bad enough to merit some serious work. The 0.5 bath downstairs is being fixed up so that it's more of a proper powder room. Right now it's basically a storage closet with sink and toilet. The powder room is a small part of the project overall, but we figure it will be money well spent, and we might as well get it done while we have a contractor here. We'd never be able to get someone in to do it as an individual job--too small.

The crew arrived at 7:45 this morning to start work. They immediately tore out the old jacuzzi tub. Not. Good. Man oh man, the wall is black and crumbling. The wood is rotted, and there's an infestation of carpenter ants. The tub was installed without a tile flange, so it's been leaking into the wall for 20 years or so. Also, the wiring for the tub jets was so poorly done that it is apparently a fire hazard. Awesome! None of this is a surprise. Our house clearly was the victim of extensive "DIY" renovations in the 80s, and it is apparent even to non-experts like us that whoever did the work had no freaking idea what the hell they were doing. We could probably do better work, and we're useless. Heck, HENRY could probably do a better job than the idiots who installed that tub. At least he watches Bob the Builder!

Anyway, the damage is horrible, but the contractor says it hasn't spread as extensively as he'd feared at first. They're sealing off the room to protect us from anything nasty, and tomorrow we're leaving for the day so the place can get fumigated. Needless to say, it's all a little nerve-wracking to have all this going on with a baby around. It's also nerve-wracking to contemplate what else could be wrong with the house. But this is a start. Hopefully the damage will be repaired without too much drama or expense, and I can go back to concentrating on how nice my new bathroom will look.

6 weeks!

Dexter is 6 weeks old today! The experts say this is the point where babies start to move beyond the early newborn state, settle in a bit and develop some personality. And it's true. Dexter now loves looking at faces, flashes his cute smile more and more, and has added sweet coos and goos to his existing repertoire of snorts, grunts and cries. Nighttime sleep is still hit-and-miss. Some nights he is very restless and doesn't sleep for more than 2 hours at a time; other nights (like last night), he's calm and sleeps in nice 3-4 hour chunks. It's amazing what a difference it makes to my mental state the next day. As long as I get one of those "long" sleep blocks, I'm fine. And when I don't get a long sleep block, Tom lets me sleep it off in the morning. So for a new mom, I feel pretty good.

As I predicted, his fluffy newborn hair is falling out. All that's left is a thick fringe around the back of his head. Hopefully that will go soon--it's not the best look for him. Completely bald will be better.

Since Tom and I are both on leave right now, family life has been fun and mellow (in between bouts of exhausting childcare, of course). We've been taking the boys to the park or the athletic field down the street on sunny days so we can run around like maniacs and kick a ball while Dexter sleeps in his stroller. Henry is in a phase right now where he declares every possible forward movement a race, so these park visits can be a real workout for me. Speaking of workouts, I started going for short runs on my own about two weeks ago. I'm jonesing to get back in shape, but it's going to be a slow process. Most days simple exhaustion from lack of sleep is the biggest hurdle to overcome, but my leaden legs don't make things easy, either.

Finally, I decided to push my parenting boundaries last weekend by taking both boys to the dinosaur museum BY MYSELF! The trip was Henry's reward for staying in his own bed until 7 a.m. that morning (he'd been getting up at 3 and climbing into our bed on a regular basis). That kid will do anything for a trip to the dinosaur museum. I can't believe he's not bored with the place, since we've been there dozens of times. Anyway, the trip went smoothly. Dexter travels very well (i.e. sleeps), and Henry knows the museum well enough to need very little guidance. I managed just fine, and Tom got a few hours to himself. Horray--progress!

Here are the boys at the museum.

Dexter Live & In Concert

Here's the star of the show!

My 21st Century Digital Boy

In an earlier post I mentioned that Henry has been using our computers to play games online and practice spelling with the word processor. Well, things have progressed. The other day I had my laptop open on the kitchen table with the browser open to Google. I left the room briefly, and when I returned, Henry was perched on a chair, happily playing one of the Flash games on the Thomas & Friends website. As far as I can tell, this is what he managed to do with no assistance:

1. Typed "Thomas" into the search engine (he can spell some of his favorite words)
2. Clicked on the correct link on the search results page
3. Used the laptop's mouse pad to point at the Games link
4. Clicked on the Games link and then selected the game he wanted to play
6. Used the mouse pad and a couple keys to successfully play the game

Damn. I guess it's only a matter of time before he figures out the Tivo.

The downside to this is that I can no longer leave my laptop open on the kitchen table during the day, unless I'm willing to let him play the Thomas games. So my email, blogging and web surfing time is now limited to mornings (when he's at preschool) and evenings. Not a bad thing, I guess, but I do like to keep tabs on things online during the day. Oh well.

Playtime at home

Kicking off Henry's Christmas list

Who needs a pet when you can have this?

Dexter at 4 weeks

We went to the doctor's office yesterday for a checkup. I was right--he's grown a lot. Here are the stats:

Weight: 10 lbs. 13 oz
Length: 22.5 inches

At birth, Dexter was in the 50th percentile for both weight and height. Now he's up around the 75th in both. This pattern is very similar to what Henry did in his first 6 months. At one point Henry was in the 95th percentile for height and 75th for weight. Then the time came to introduce solid foods, and Henry was having none of it (literally). His weight dropped all the way down to the 20th percentile by his 1st birthday, causing our pediatrician to panic and send us to an infant feeding clinic to get his diet on track. It didn't work. Yet Henry kept on growing, just at a slower pace. I was never worried about him, since it was obvious he was healthy. The whole incident was very annoying.

ANYWAY, Dexter is doing great. We relish his infrequent smiles and can't wait to see more of his personality emerge. He's looking more like a redhead, but it's still hard to call, as his coloring changes in different light, on different days, etc. For a long time I thought Henry was going to be a redhead, but that never came to pass. Also, I think Dexter might be shedding his fluffy newborn hair. He's looking a little thin on top today. Within a week or two he could be a Kojak baby, like his brother was.

I'm typing this with one hand (holding D. with the other), so that will do for now. New pics soon.

Some happier news

*Dexter has started smiling! Hopefully I'll capture it with the camera soon.
*Grandma Peggy and Grandpa Mike are visiting from California this week.
*Only 8 more sleeps until school starts!
*I'm starting to fit into my normal clothes again (well, only the tops. Pants are another story).

The honeymoon is over

Man, the kids really stuck it to us last night. Dexter woke up for his usual 3:30 feeding and subsequent bout of squawking/fussing/general-being-awakiness. Unfortunately, Henry picked that time to wake up and climb into our (crowded) bed for a cuddle. Usually when he does this he falls right back to sleep. But Dexter woke him up fully. He started climbing all over us, babbling on about random stuff, and generally being a nuisance. By 4 a.m. we were all wide awake, and crabby. At some point I drifted off. I woke up at 6:30 with Dexter lying beside me, Tom and Henry nowhere to be found. I located Henry in his own bed, Tom asleep on the floor beside him. The hardwood floor. Ouch. No, it was not a good night for any of us.

Yes, I still want a king size bed.

So, Dexter is getting fussier. And while Henry is still being very nice and loving to Dexter, but he's figured out that this "little brother" creature is sticking around, and that means less attention for him. So he's in a bit of a mood now and has started punishing me and Tom in subtle and not-so-subtle ways. The most obvious and messy being a regression on his toilet training. He's been pushing things by waiting until the last second to use the toilet, which often leads to little accidents, but this afternoon he peed on the rug in his playroom when Tom wasn't available to get him a snack from the fridge. Ick. And yikes! I'm not sure what to do about this kind of acting out. How do you balance empathy about the fact that the child has gone through a major disruption in his life while still making it perfectly clear that peeing on the floor isn't an appropriate response to that disruption?

Day by day

Yesterday Dexter experienced his first bout of sustained fussiness. Since he also spent the day in a feeding frenzy, I suspect the little guy was undergoing a growth spurt. He's certainly getting bigger! All the nursing made him gassy, which made him fussy, which made me really tired. We survived the day, and now he's back to his usual mellowness.

I'd forgotten how breastfeeding a newborn is pretty much a full-time job. Between feedings, diaper changes and laundry, I barely have the time and energy to feed myself!

In other news, I am DYING for preschool to start again. It's become obvious over the course of the summer that Henry's reached an age where he needs a social life. The neighborhood is pretty empty during the day, and he often seems bored and lonely. Since Jensen moved he's been playing more often with the girl next door, but she's at daycare most of the time. Henry pretty much sprints out the front door when he hears her arrive home. Anyway, regular interaction with kids his age will do us all a lot of good. The day after Labour Day can't come soon enough!

Real life begins again

I dropped Grandma Eileen off at the airport this morning. She'd been here for almost a month, doing some serious heavy lifting around the house and with the kids. Grandpa Moe left yesterday, after a whirlwind weeklong visit where he got to tour the Dinosaur Museum, enjoy a "Day Out with Thomas", spend many hours at local parks, feed ducks in the canal, cuddle his new grandson, and still found time to do a bunch of projects around the house. Now, Tom and I are on our own with our children. Ahhhhhh!

Wish us luck.

Henry could have told you this

It's remarkable how many news stories about dinosaurs you encounter once you start looking for them.

Who's who?

The first picture is Henry, second is Dexter. When Dexter was first born, Tom and I thought he looked quite different than Henry did as a newborn. But the gap is closing, no?

We are experiencing technical difficulties

Sorry about the lack of posts and new pictures. Henry has pretty much taken over my PC. Every time I fire it up, he climbs in my lap and starts harassing me to "spell" (type random letters and numbers in a word document) or play one of the many, many flash games available on kids' websites. He's quite relentless. Hopefully the novelty will wear off soon. If not, I'll see if I can negotiate some time soon.

Dexter's first family outing

Brantwood Park, Sunday afternoon.

Comments we can do without, volume XXIVI

"Obviously, you haven't had the baby yet."

--an acquaintance, who obviously didn't see me during the second half of my pregnancy, yesterday at the farmer's market

One week later

At this time last week I was lying in a hospital bed in a semi-private room (all the private ones were taken), exhausted, sore, and itchy from all the meds I had been given. Tonight, Tom and I went for a relatively long and vigorous walk. I really can't believe how good I feel. After Henry was born it was at least two weeks before I could manage a walk around the block without becoming exhausted. I always blamed the c-section, but now I can say that it was more likely the two days of labor, followed by surgery, that wrecked me so badly. Anyway, everyone who told me that recovering from a scheduled c-section is way easier than it is if you labor first were totally right. The fact that I'm getting something resembling a decent sleep most nights helps, too.

Dexter is adding a few short periods of alertness to his routine, but I'd estimate he's sleeping about 21-22 hours a day. Mom and I are taking him to Sears for a portrait tomorrow. I'm hoping we can get an open-eye picture for his birth announcement, but I won't get my hopes up.

Hello, folks

Home with Baby D

Dexter and I have been home for two days now, and life is settling in nicely to its new normal. Well, having the full-time, live-in nanny known as Grandma Eileen is a luxury we won't be able to enjoy forever, but for now, it's part of the routine. The good news is, Dexter is a pretty mellow little baby. He sleeps at night (not straight through the night, but for a few hours at a time), sleeps a lot during the day, and when he's awake, he's quiet and observant. When he cries, it's for a reason we can usually figure out. All this is in stark contrast to Henry, who cried literally all night long for his first few months of life, and often had long crying jags during the day as well. In retrospect, he was a very difficult newborn who really put us through the ringer, so Dexter's mellowness is both surprising and welcome.

Speaking of Henry, he has been absolutely fantastic so far. He was so, so cute meeting Dexter for the first time. "Look at his tiny hands!" "Look at his tiny nose!" "He has no teeth!" Henry's being affectionate, curious, and not the least bit jealous. I'm very surprised, but pleased, obviously. Henry does get a little annoyed when Dexter cries, but that's about it in terms of negative reactions. Now, if someone gives Dexter a present, that's another story. . .

I started writing up a recap of my time in the hospital, but it was getting long and I need to go to bed, so it will have to wait. Also, I keep trying to get a good picture of Dexter with his eyes open, but he sleeps so much it isn't easy!

Thanks for all your comments and warm wishes. It means a lot to me to hear form friends and family. I wish you could come over and meet Dexter in person.

More pictures

Here are some more photos of Dexter. Susan and Dexter are coming home from the hospital tomorrow, so this blog will soon resume its customary blend of lively wit and inisghtful cultural analysis. If only they had wifi at the hospital, Susan could have live-blogged the birth experience.

Dexter

Dexter Miles Redding Allen was born at 8:45 Thursday morning. He is 8 pounds five ounces, has lots of hair, and seems to be a good eater and sleeper so far. He tested out his lungs at birth but since then he has been mostly content. Mom is doing well and was able to eat a full dinner this evening. Henry has been very cute and seems delighted have a baby brother.

One last day of calm

To commemorate Henry's last day as an only child, Tom and I took him to the Dinosaur Museum and Dairy Queen this afternoon. It was a fun family outing. Tom and I just got back from what promises to be our last dinner date in quite awhile. We had a great meal. Now I'm officially in pre-surgical fasting mode. We're due to arrive at the hospital at 6 a.m. tomorrow.

I can't believe it's down to one more sleep!

The final countdown

I'm off work. Grandma is here, entertaining Henry and whipping the house into shape. We're down to the last 48 hours before the arrival of Baby Deuce, and preparations have kicked into gear. Thursday is the Big Day. My body's not showing any signs that I'll be going into labor spontaneously before then, so a "c-birth" (as the hospital literature calls it) seems inevitable. I'm disappointed, but, oh well. Given how badly the whole labor and delivery went with Henry, I don't see any point in waiting around another week, hoping for a better outcome this time. It's time to stop being pregnant and have this baby!

Stay tuned for the big announcement!

Whoa, Belly!

A glimpse inside the belly

I had an ultrasound yesterday to check the position of the placenta, which had been low earlier in my pregnancy. Everything's fine on that front, which is good news (it can cause problems during delivery if it's low). Tom and I decided to bring Henry along for a glimpse at the new baby, in the hopes that it would help him make a stronger connection between our baby talk and baby reality. Henry was very positive about the whole experience, but I have to say, it wasn't much of a show. Occasionally you can discern a distinct body part within the squishy image, but for the most part, an ultrasound at 37 weeks is more like a Rorschach Test than a baby viewing ("I see a foot. What do you see?" "That looks like the nose to me." Hmmm.). Since Henry is so into dinosaur fossils right now, he was excited to view the baby's spine and femur. Not exactly the "a-ha!" moment we were looking for, but it was still worthwhile to bring him along.

I really enjoyed everyone's comments about how older kids react to a new sibling. We've been pumping up the "you'll be such a great big brother" angle and using the "what a lucky baby" line to good effect. I still assume we'll experience some rocky moments, but Henry's talk about the baby has become a bit more positive of late. It's been several weeks since he's said anything about eating the baby, which came up a few times in the past. That has to count as progress.

Reality bites

While I reserve the right to get *extremely irritated* with people who point it out to me, I will say it myself: Hot damn am I ever huge.

Four weeks to go, four weeks to go. . .

Happy Canada Day

Crowds and noise aren't Henry's thing, so we skipped the big party on Parliament Hill and went to the Agriculture Museum, a.k.a. Experimental Farm, instead. The weather was a bit chilly, but we still had a good time. Strangely enough, this was the third weekend in a row that H. and I took a ride on a horse-drawn wagon. I guess it's a popular summer activity in Ottawa. Henry will happily approach the Clydesdales and stroke them on the nose, but he won't even enter the barn with the milk cows at the farm. He's even a little afraid of the baby calves.

Doesn't he look like he would fit right in on his great-grandparents' homestead in Saskatchewan? What an iconic young Canadian (we'll set aside his Dixie birth for the moment, along with the whole "fear of farm animals" issue)!

Yes, I did dress him up like this deliberately.

Big brother isn't smiling

Lately a lot of people have been asking me if Henry is "excited" about the baby's impending arrival. That would be no. First of all, I don't think he understands the connection between my big belly and this baby thingy we keep talking about. He loves to rub my belly, and sometimes he will even say things to the baby, but I just don't think he gets that there's an actual baby in there, and that this baby will be part of his life, and that's something to be excited about. And when we do talk about the fact that a baby is going to come out of my belly and then live with us, he seems less than thrilled. That's an understatement. For example, at dinner tonight we were talking about all the people who would come and visit when the baby arrived. Henry asked if the baby's mommy would come visit. When I explained that I would be the baby's mommy, he frowned and said, "No. You're MY mommy." It didn't surprise me--Henry tends to be pretty possessive. He's always reacted negatively when he's seen me hold a friend's baby. As in, he walks over and says things like, "Put the baby down, Mommy." So I just don't expect that he will be all smiles and brotherly love when we bring his new sibling home, and the new sibling is seen using items that Henry still identifies as his (crib, stroller, etc). I expect we'll have at least one nuclear meltdown. It's going to be an interesting transition, that's for sure.

On a cheerier note

I've started writing for Amazon's "Baby Babble" blog. Here's my first post.

I am the walrus

As of today, I officially have 6 weeks (or less!) left in my pregnancy. My c-section is scheduled for August 2. While I hold out hope that I won't have to go that route, I'll admit I'm happy to have a firm end date this time around. Going a week overdue with Henry was no fun at all.

In the meantime, I'm enjoying all the side effects of late pregnancy--not the least of which is the daily barrage of comments about my condition. And the consensus opinion of the various neighbors, co-workers, random store clerks and other jackasses who can't mind their own business is. . . I'm huge! HUGE! Yes, my belly has swollen to proportions so freakish that people are shocked to hear that I'm not heading to the hospital RIGHT THAT MINUTE, since someone my size must be moments away from giving birth.

I've been having exchanges like this one for the last month:

"Wow--You look ready to pop! It can't be long now, can it?"

"Uh, actually I'm not due for another 10 weeks."

Awkward silence. Then a look of shock, followed by disbelief, followed by pity.

"Oh. Well. . . You look. . .Great! Really, really terrific. Beautiful, in fact.
Yeah, you look beautiful."

Or:
"REALLY?!? 10 more weeks! But you're SO BIG! My friend/sister/wife is due, like, tomorrow, and she's not half as big as you! Are you sure you're not having twins (snicker)? But it's amazing--you're ALL BELLY!"

I believe the "all belly" comment is supposed to make me feel better about the fact that I look like I swallowed the Hindenburg.

It doesn't.

Yep--all the comments about my massive hugeness are really getting to me. It's no surprise that I get offended when people make blatantly rude comments about my body. But people who say nice things bug me, too. At first I thought my irritation/burning rage about this stemmed from the fact that, in our culture, observations about the large size of a woman's midsection are pretty much never compliments. But now I think my discomfort with all comments about my condition stem from the fact that it just isn't normal to have your physical appearance (no matter what it is) be considered an appropriate topic for small talk with any given individual you encounter in the course of your day. That's what's making me crazy. See, I'm not an extrovert. I'm not an exhibitionist. I don't like making small talk about anything with people I don't know. And I really, really don't like making small talk about my body, my due date, or anything else so personal with the guy ringing up my groceries. It's just weird. And it happens several times a day. Can't we just talk about the weather?

As I get bigger and bigger over the next 6 weeks, I'll try to grow a thicker skin at the same time. Maybe I should just tell the strangers who harass me that I am in fact having triplets. Or that the swelling in my midsection is due to a benign tumor, not a baby. But those kinds of retorts just prolong the conversation--the last thing I want. No, I'll probably just start getting ruder and ruder with the Belly Talkers. If I remember correctly, that's what happened last time. Huge and surly. That's me.

It's gonna be a great 6 weeks.

I hope I'm not jinxing it, but. . .

It's working! The No Diapers policy is starting to pay dividends. We just made it through an accident-free diaper-free weekend, with all #1s and #2 landing safely in an approved container. Since he pooped in his pants FIVE times on Friday, this is a very encouraging development indeed. Plenty of rewards doled out: Dinosaur movie, trip to the dinosaur museum, an ice cream cone. And the best thing is that Henry actually does seem proud of himself, and enjoys the praise we've been doling out. So, fingers crossed that we turned a corner here.

A tough loss

I'm not referring to the Annihilation in Anaheim, though there are a lot of long faces around here today.

No, the loss is much worse than that: Jensen is moving!

This isn't a shock, because it's been in the works for a long time. His family signed a contract last fall on a new house being built out in the 'burbs, and their current house has been on the market ever since. It finally sold over the weekend, and the new buyer is insisting on a quick close, i.e. next week! We thought they'd at least be around through August. Instead, they're scrambling to fill their housing gap over the summer, and it looks like they'll be decamping to grandma & grandpa's place on the East Coast. So now we're facing the fact that Henry's best buddy is soon leaving for good.

Bummer.

Seriously--I am so sad about this! Sad for Henry, and sad for us, too. Not having Jensen and his family down the street anymore will take away our easiest, most convenient way to entertain Henry when we've got gaps in our day, or he's bored, or we want a little adult companionship for a trip to the park, etc. Henry and Jensen get along about as well as two 3-year-olds can, but I think the real reason the relationship has worked so well is that our families have a similar approach to daily life. In other words, they're disorganized too, and more than happy to just go with the flow to get through the day. So they're always up for doing stuff on short notice, they don't get all tense if we knock on their door and see if they want to come out and play (the answer is almost always yes), and mark time on the weekends by "morning" and "afternoon" rather than the hour. There's no need to schedule "play dates" days in advance, no fancy plans to put in place. Just show up, hang out, and marvel at how loud the two boys get when they're together.

I'm sure we'll probably arrange a few get-togethers after they've settled into their new digs on the far western edge of Ottawa's far western suburb, but it just won't be the same. After all, these get-togethers will have to be organized ahead of time (neither family's strong suit). And I don't know who will fill the gap when Henry says, "let's go knock on Jensen's door!" and we have to remind him that Jensen doesn't live there anymore. There are no obvious candidates. I used to think of our neighborhood as being full of KIDS Henry's age, but slowly I've realized that it's actually full of GIRLS Henry's age. And this is starting to matter. For example, our next-door neighbor told me last week that her 4-year old was adamant that she wanted NO BOYS at her recent birthday party, so Henry wasn't invited. The little girls seem to be more and more into doing little girl things, which apparently doesn't include acting like a tyrannosaurus rex and throwing handfuls of dirt and pebbles down the storm grate--activities currently at the top of Henry's list. And he just isn't into dressing up like a fairy princess and playing make-believe. So, limited options in the immediate vicinity.

Our challenge now is to find Henry a friend in the neighborhood with easygoing parents with whom we can sustain some chit-chat while the kids tear around doing little boy things. Or, we have to sign up for a bunch of activities. Either way, it's the end of an era. And I'm really going to miss them.

The grunt work of parenting

WARNING! This post contains a distressing amount of scatological content. Think twice about reading on if you're childless, squeamish, eating, or just not interested in the messiest, most frustrating challenge of early childhood. Yes, I'm talking about The Potty.

The $%@*%(@ Potty.

We've decided to fully commit to toilet training over the next few weeks. After some research, I decided the only way we're going to get Henry out of diapers for good is to just get him out of diapers. Yep--no more diaper during the day. We reached a point where Henry can use the potty, and sometimes does for #1, but progress has stalled. See, when it comes to personal hygiene, the kid is pretty much a pig. Wearing a diaper soaked in several pounds of his own stinking waste doesn't bother him at all. He never, ever asks to be changed. In fact, we often have to pin him down, screaming, to get a dirty diaper off of him. If it was up to him, he'd wear the same diaper until the thing collapsed around his ankles. I think he'd be happy to go from Pampers to pull-ups to Depends for the rest of his life, and never feel that his dignity had been injured in any way.

So, we've got a challenge on our hands. Appealing to his pride at being a "big boy" who stays dry and clean and gets to wear cool Thomas underwear instead of babyish diapers has yielded zilch in terms of performance. Hence the new carrot and stick approach.

The stick: No diapers, except at night.
The carrot: A new DVD (Disney's "Dinosaur") to watch as soon as he makes it through a day with no accidents. When he achieves this milestone, we will add new incentives until the routine has been established. What can I say--we've never been above offering bribes.

He's been shown the DVD in its packaging, and seems pretty jazzed to watch it. But in terms of performance, results have been mixed. He doesn't ask to go potty, but he will go if we remind him and put him on it. So, thanks to our vigilance, things haven't been too messy yet. But we have a ways to go. Yesterday looked promising, but after staying dry during a day of errands and activities, right before dinner he wet all over the floor--right after I'd asked him about 15 times if he needed to use the potty.

Today the DVD was of the table before noon. This is what we're up against: Henry and I were at the park down the street when I saw him make his unmistakable Poo Face. I sprung into action, raced him home, and got him onto the toilet before it was too late. I then spent about 25 minutes sitting on the bathroom floor, singing poo songs, talking about how great it would be if he made a poo on the toilet, and promising a cookie if he performed. It's a very gratifying way to spend a sunny day, let me tell you. I left the room for a time in case this was too much pressure. After about half an hour or so, we gave up and put his shorts back on and started getting lunch ready. When Tom and I weren't paying attention, Henry took a massive dump. In his shorts. Not five minutes after spending half an hour sitting on the toilet.

Sigh. Clumps of my hair, torn out in frustration, may soon be littering the floor, along with Henry's puddles.

Toilet training, or the lack thereof, is one of those things that people can be very judgmental about, as in, "what do you mean, your 3-year-old isn't toilet trained yet?!?". As in, "boy, aren't you a couple of incompetents!" All I can say in response is, "Be my guest." Spend some time trying to toilet train a stubborn, crafty, and completely unmotivated preschooler who does not care one bit about staying dry and clean. Figure out your own system of incentives and strategies, and get back to me with the results. And, have fun!

Question of the week

Should I pretend to care about hockey in order to bolster my sense of civic pride?

More Tulip Fest pics

Posted here.

Henry actually asked to go to the Tulip Festival last Sunday. I'm not sure how he even heard of it, but it sounded like a good plan. Tom had work to do, so it was just me and the boy and a long, sunny walk around the flower beds. We had milkshakes at Dairy Queen before heading home. Not a bad way to spend Mother's Day at all.

The Home Front gets results!

Take a look at my site meter. Someone at Target saw my snide comment about their "walrus" maternity dress. And now the product description has been changed! I'm impressed.

Target people--if you're still reading, please listen to me: I forgive you for the Walrus maternity dress. COME TO CANADA! And not just Toronto! Open TONS of stores! I need you! Please! Please!

Tulip Festival

The big birthday extravaganza

9 kids. 14 grownups. 2 baby siblings. A little over 2 hours of well-supervised mayhem. Yep, today was Henry's 3rd birthday party, and it was great. The guest list was a mix of kids from the preschool and the neighborhood, plus the preschool-age children of Tom's colleagues. Everyone had a lot of fun, including the parents. Even the cake decorating project I planned went off without a hitch. The kids did a great job sticking Smarties and marshmallows on their trains, and weren't really messy at all. Things got a bit loud at times, but nothing unbearable. In summary, the adults weren't bored, there were no major fights, tantrums or injuries on the part of the kids, and we don't have to powerwash the inside of the house. As third birthday parties go, you can't ask for much better.

It's interesting to mark Henry's development by the way his birthday parties have gone off. His first birthday party was pretty much for the grownups, with booze and a full spread of food. Henry was just the overstimulated center of attention. His second birthday party was much more kid-centric, but I remember it being a lot of shy toddlers sticking close to their moms while we coaxed them to have fun. Today, the kids played really well together with almost no intervention from their parents. Especially the kids who go to preschool together. When I watch them interact, it's clear that they have genuine relationships with each other as little individuals. They have conversations, pull each other into activities, and find ways to have fun. They're no longer just kids thrown together in a room because they're around the same age and their parents know each other. I guess next year's party, and every party after that, will show the continuation of this trend.

On Henry's actual birthday, Tom and I brought cupcakes to school for all the kids. The cupcakes were a real Working Mom Wonder Woman moment for me, as I had come home at lunch the day before to bake them from scratch. Eat your heart out, June Cleaver!

I'll post photos to my Flickr account ASAP. Between the new camera, all the software drivers for the new camera, and some new photo editing software I got, I've managed to really screw up my PC when it comes to photo management. I've got quite a backlog of images to work through. . .

Why not just go with "Beached Whale"?

As both a copywriter and a pregnant lady, I have to say that my beloved Target missed the mark badly with this attempt to come up with a new word for "brown" in their marketing of an otherwise cute maternity dress.

Update!

Just a whole bunch of regular life

Not much going on around here the past couple weeks. Yesterday was the official start of the third trimester for me, and between being evermore pregnant, taking care of Henry, and heading to work 5 days a week, I haven't had much energy for extracurricular activities. Today was a fun day, though. It's been sunny for the last few days, but several degrees below warm. But finally, we got to the point where shorts were an option. We put Henry in the stroller and walked over to Bank Street to get milkshakes and enjoy a beautiful day. It's a very nice walk to take. And we decided to add a degree of serious excitement to the day by letting Henry go the preschool equivalent of going commando, i.e. No Diaper! The big toilet training project hasn't amounted to much yet, so I decided we need to start forcing the issue a bit more. The results were mixed, at best. No accidents while we were out and about, but three "accidents" once we got home (including one when he was standing literally 6 inches from his potty. Very frustrating). I'm not confident we'll get him out of diapers for good before Little Deuce arrives on the scene. As I said, progress has been spotty, but things are getting a bit better, so I haven't completely given up hope that it could happen soon. Then again, most of the other 3 year-old boys we know are still in diapers, and I've heard plenty of horror stories about the struggle to get them out of the paper underpants for good. Sigh.

In other Henry news, we're rapidly closing in on the big 3rd birthday extravaganza. We're having a party on next weekend, featuring a combination that could prove fatal to what little home decor we have: 10 preschoolers, and individual cake decorating. See, we bought this cool train cake pan in New York, and I think the kids will enjoy throwing sprinkles and the like on their own train car. Maybe it will be a nice day and we can do it outside. Maybe I'll just lay plastic sheeting over the entire house. Whatever. You only turn 3 once. Might as well make it memorable.

H. continues full throttle with his dinosaur obsession. Lately he's taken to acting like a T.Rex, which involves stomping around, his hands formed into "claws", making roaring sounds and play-biting us on the legs. I've put the dinosaur angle to good use in my parenting techniques by using the line that "dinosaurs love to (X)," whenever I'm trying to get Henry to do something he doesn't want to do. I've also improved his general hygiene by suggesting that if he doesn't let me wash off whatever crust of food and gunk has formed on his face or hands, a predator dinosaur will smell it and come after him. Not the kind of line you find in parenting manuals, but it works! And really, it doesn't scare him, since he thinks of himself as a predator dinosaur.

Finally, he's running an experiment to see if he can get all the nutrients and energy he needs from one food: plain spaghetti. He asks for it every night. I dress it up with egg and cheese, but all other sauce is out of the question.

And that's the news, such as it is, from around here. I was attempting to make mango chutney from scratch as I wrote this, and it was a total failure. I have a potful of scorched sugar goo. Delightful. Oh well--hopefully tonight's tamarind and yogurt-marinated chicken will do fine without it.

From snowsuits to sunscreen in 4 days flat

I finally have an answer to the question I've been asking myself daily since March 15: "Will spring ever arrive?"

The answer is no.

We skipped spring and went directly to summer. Seriously. Tuesday morning, there was snow on the ground. By Friday, I was wearing sandals to work. Today it's 25 degrees C (77 degrees F), sunny and gorgeous. Quite a turnaround.

But for some reason or another, Henry doesn't want to play outside today. He's refusing to go the park. What almost-3-year old doesn't want to go to the park on a sunny Sunday afternoon? He claims he's still traumatized about the biting incident that took place at the park last fall, but I think I may have inadvertently fed him that excuse. He does talk about it from time to time, though, so maybe he really is scared that he'll run into that kid again. Who knows. I guess we'll just forget about the park and drag him, kicking and screaming, to play in the yard.

Kids are so weird.

Our exciting weekend getaway to travel hell

Grandma's been visiting for the past 10 days or so. Henry is really enjoying her company. Tom and I took the opportunity (i.e., the live-in babysitting) to head down to New York for a weekend of child-free fun. Overall, it was a great time. I love being in Manhattan, for all the typical reasons: the food, the vibe, the variety, the culture, the shopping. We flew in early Friday morning, checked our bags at the hotel, and walked up to the Museum of Modern Art to spend a few hours looking at paintings. MoMA is one of the NY museums I hadn't visited before last weekend, as it's been under construction/ renovation for so long. We followed that up with dinner in SoHo with our friend Karin, a lovely sightseeing walk through town on a sunny Saturday, more food, some jazz, and general RnR. It was a great couple of days.

However, on Sunday morning we awoke to a pounding rainstorm. The volume of water reminded me of Tropical Storm Gaston, which hit Richmond a few years back and caused all manner of flooding and chaos. It wasn't quite that bad, but Manhattan did get over 7 inches of rain in less than 12 hours. The drenching showers put the kibosh on our plan to line up for rush tickets to an afternoon show on Broadway. We headed to the Guggenheim instead for a few more hours of culture before heading out to the airport. The museum was great, but getting there and back, even though this involved only a few block of walking to and from subway stations, was an adventure. By the time we headed back to the hotel to retrieve our luggage, the streets were inundated with water, the wind had picked up, and we got thoroughly drenched. The hotel let us use their changing rooms to dry off, but I was still pretty damp and anticipating an uncomfortable flight home. Little did I know that I wouldn't be seeing the inside of a plane for another 24 hours.

Unfortunately, our flight home didn't get canceled until we were literally at the counter trying to check in. Given the conditions, and the fact that nothing was flying, I don't know why they couldn't have canceled it several hours ahead of time. At least we could have saved the cab fare to La Guardia. The ticket agent re-booked us on a flight for 9 p.m. the next day, so we knew we weren't going anywhere soon. Rather than spend $300 to stay near the airport, we decided to head back to our Manhattan hotel for the night (not that it was any cheaper–but at least we knew what we were getting. And, it was in Manhattan, not Queens). Before we went to bed I put my Amazing Race skills to work and got us re-re-booked on a 12:30 flight out of Newark. I felt resourceful and cunning. It never occurred to me that they'd still be canceling flights the next day.

I did call the airline right before we left the hotel, and our flight was on schedule. No delay, no cancellation, according to the machine. So we schlepped off to lovely Newark, only to be told, again, the minute we tried to check in, that the flight had just been canceled, and we would be re-re-re-booked for 8 a.m the next morning. I may have shed a few tears at this point. With visions of our bank account deflating before our very eyes (not to mention our desire to be reunited with Henry), we were determined not to spend another night in New York. The ticket agent was slow, marble-mouthed and generally ineffective, so I just let him book us on whatever and returned to the phones to see how we could get the hell out of there. Finally we got something for the late afternoon, and we hunkered down to spend the day watching the skies, watching the departures board, and waiting to see if the flight would actually take off. My belly had earned me some sympathy points at the check-in counter, and even though they couldn't get me home right away, they did give us passes to the executive lounge. So at least we spent the day in relative comfort. After a 4-hour delay from its original departure time, our flight did take off, and one frustrating stopover in Toronto later, we were headed home. We walked in the door just before midnight, only one day behind schedule.

Surprisingly, given how much I fly, I think this was the first time I ever got stranded somewhere because of weather. Hopefully I won't repeat the experience again anytime soon. Tom and I did learn a lesson of sorts: when you've got a small child to think about, it's probably best to keep your weekend getaways within driving distance. Because of our troubles, Mom has to change her flight back. Besides that, Henry did just fine without us. In fact, when I woke him up the next morning, he didn't cry "Mommy!" or any such thing. He calmly contemplated my face and said, "Grandma told me that you went on a vacation." That's exactly what he said. Very matter-of-fact Then we had a cuddle and I gave him his present–a book about a dinosaur counting to 10. And just like that, life was back to normal.

The Count

Over the past few weeks Henry has made big strides in his ability to count and understand numbers. Watching the process unfold has been fascinating. It started with our habit of saying "five more minutes" and holding up five fingers when we need to transition from one activity to another. At first this was just an arbitrary verbal cue; we could have said "purple jello kitten" and it would have had the same effectiveness--i.e., it wasn't like we were actually counting minutes, we just needed a consistent way to tell him he'd soon have to stop what he was doing. But Henry started mimicking us, saying "five more minutes?" while holding up 5 fingers. That was the first connection. Pretty soon he started asking about other numbers. Tom and I spent a lot of time showing him how to count to five on his fingers, and saying "four" while showing four fingers, etc. Henry practiced actually holding up the right combinations, which took some work just in terms of dexterity (figuring out that he could use his thumb to hold down his pinkie was key to nailing the number 3). Anyway, I think that the tactile element of holding up fingers while saying the number formed a real bridge in his mind between the name of each number and its value. I now feel like he understands numbers and counting in a way that he doesn't yet grasp with letters. I mean, he can sing the alphabet song and identify some letters when prompted, but he's a long way from decoding the whole system of letters/sounds/words/meaning. But it really does look like the connection is coming together with numbers. He now notices page numbers in his books and likes to talk about them. He's starting to grasp the idea that you can put two numbers together and make a different number (e.g. 2 & 3 is "23"). He can count items on a page (although he's not 100% accurate all the time). It sounds like small stuff, and a year from now I'm sure he'll be counting to some high number and back without thinking twice about it, but for now, watching him work it out is remarkable.

It still boggles my mind to realize that 10 months ago, Henry could say only the most basic two-and three-word phrases. Now he babbles away about anything and everything, telling stories complete with narration and dialog, and even corrects his mother's pronunciation of the Latin names of various dinosaurs. The changes happen so quickly. It's been a remarkable year.

Our new home away from home

Henry is almost 3. A typical little boy, he's at the age where his imagination has been galvanized by those magnificent, mercifully extinct creatures known collectively as. . .DINOSAURS! It's all about the dinosaurs these days. And not just the typical roster of dinosaurs that mommy knew about (brontosaurus, tyrannosaurus, triceratops). Oh no--we're deep into it. Maiasaura. Chasmosaurus. Leptoceratops. Henry calls them by name and talks about attributes like bony frills and armored plates. Fun stuff.

Feeding this interest is the Canadian Museum of Nature, a.k.a "the Dinosaur Museum," which is walking distance from our house. Last year the museum was being renovated, so all the major exhibits were packed away. There wasn't much to see. It's now reopening in stages, and there are plenty of fossils, interactive displays, reproductions and whatnot to enjoy. The place is now a destination for families with young children. Little girls quietly contemplate the exhibits and partake in the craft activities set up to engage the young patrons. Little boys go totally apeshit over the dinosaur statues.

Henry has been to the Dinosaur Museum four times in the last three weeks.

It's the ideal family outing for us. Henry freaking loves it. It provides hours of educationally oriented entertainment. We bought an annual family membership for $45, and there's a pack-your-own-lunch eating area, so it's a very cheap day out. Also, walking distance from our house! Really, it's a remarkable resource to have in our backyard. I imagine we'll be there practically every weekend until Henry's interests move on to something else.

I never thought I would know so much about a topic that previously held no interest for me. But that's one of the fun parts about being a parent--little kids love things passionately, and you get pulled along for the ride.

Of course there are photos!

New camera

Tom got me a new digital camera for my birthday last month. It's much nicer than my old one: 7.1 megapixel and 6X optical zoom. Today I finally installed the camera software and downloaded my first set of pictures. I'm especially pleased with this one. I'll put more on my Flickr site soon.