DAILY SNACK
He says,”GAAA!” She breaks out in baby giggles.
He says,”Knock, knock.” She laughs some more.
“Who’s there.” (That’s me.)
“Banana.” She laughs even harder.
“Banana who?” “Knock, knock.” Gut-bursting laughter.
“Who’s there.” “Orange.”
She can barely contain herself. I’m afraid her cheeks will really burst this time.
“Orange you glad I didn’t say banana!” He’s cracking up this time.
And she just looks at us and then tries to eat her feet some more.
I am Canadian. New York magazine, therefore, hits my news stands three weeks late and I have only just read “Extreme Birth,” Andrew Goldman’s article about NYC home-birth midwife Cara Muhlhahn and home births in general. I have been wanting a good lead-in to a home birth discussion for a long time, so even though this article prompted much online buzz about home births from such big wigs as Jezebel and salon.com’s broadsheet weeks ago, I’ll throw my two bits in anyway.
A good friend, and one of the most unabashed, frank and honest people I know, is five months pregnant and on the wait-list for a midwife in her area. I was pretty surprised because “Quick, easy, and pain free,” might as well be her motto. Both my kids were “delivered by” a midwife and I know that wanting to at least try for an unmedicated birth is really kinda the point. When I told her this, she replied that she has always been one to try the latest, trendy thing and thought she might as well see if she could go it au naturel. Is that really all this home birth talk is, then, a passing trend? Or does it represent a real backlash against the over-medicalization of childbirth and a general shift toward a less invasive approach to labour and delivery? Or could it be both?
DAILY SNACK
The wind was whipping through the playground pretty hard.
The balloons were straining on their ribbons,
And there was just no way those candles were going to stay lit.
So we set the cake before her and sang “Happy Birthday” and started to clap and cheer anyway.
Wait, she gestured. And took a deep breath and blew out three imaginary flames.
Proud as can be.
DAILY SNACK
Cheeks rosy in the fresh Spring air.
Tiny fingers grip firm rubber and eyes open wide, wider, widest.
Knees bend and feet curl right up at the slightest push.
There’s that smile.
Baby’s first swing.
Hey Rebecca,
What do you do when your child throws her plastic stool when angry? She’s got a little temper!!
Radioactive Mamma
Well, RM, I know my gut reaction would be to snatch that stool away and whip it across the room myself. But that wouldn’t be “modeling appropriate behaviour,” would it? Getting a grip on our emotions is something we all struggle with from time to time, but there are clearly some extra-sensitive stages. Toddlers. Teens. Post-partum moms with a screaming four-week-old and a tantrum-y toddler? Definitely.
DAILY SNACK
Note to self:
Next time you drop the taco kit box, just make meatloaf instead.
#5. Indoor Gym/Playground This is actually a great idea if you are hosting more than one or two kids and are short on space in your home — especially in cold weather. Giving kids a place to run around like mad is never a bad plan. They are not free, however, and they are not everywhere.
#4. Rented Equipment You can rent just about anything from a bouncy castle to a cotton candy machine to a big old tent. You will want first, though, to make sure you have enough space, money, and kids to warrant the expense. And, for heaven’s sake, make sure the rentals are age appropriate — nobody wants to put their one year old on that giant inflatable slide. (Or their 16-year-old for that matter.)
DAILY SNACK
“Grandpa wears reading glasses. Do you wear reading glasses?”
“No. I wear sunglasses. To protect the sun from my eyes.”
DAILY SNACK
FAM!
Peels of baby laughter ring out.
So again he tears over to the other side of the couch and slowly drives his white convertible dinky car along the arm.
It turns the corner and heads toward us along the back of the couch.
FAM! he shouts.
And again she’s in stitches, laughing and laughing.
So we do it again. And again and again.
Eleven hours of sleep. Holy cow.
I decided to take a long four-day weekend (like many of you) over the Easter holiday and return to the blog writing business refreshed and energized. The problem with holiday weekends, though, is that they’re exhausting. And I never think they’re going to be. I always think that just because this weekend is a day or so longer than most I’ll be able to catch up on all kinds of tasks and errands and trek back and forth across the GTA (Greater Toronto Area) visiting and still wind up feeling reinvigorated.
So when I lay down beside my extremely high-strung and caffeinated three-year old last night, (who’s idea was it to promise Easter chocolate as an after dinner treat?), my plan had been to help him settle down and then put on a pot of coffee and write a thoughtful treatise on the role of religion in the family in this new millennium.