Extroverted = Hopeful ....?

So today was the first day of Advent.  We lit the Candle of Hope, for those of you keeping track.

In all honesty, I have trouble with sermons.  Like Pavlov's dog drools at the sound of a bell, my mind wanders during sermon time.  *sigh*  I also yawn while singing.  Always.  It's really quite silly.

Anyway... 

I did hear a quick mention of the 'Sons of Thunder'  (Those are what the apostles James and John were called); obviously, I told my husband that they were called that because of their beany diet.

And then....

The Pastor was talking about how he likes to visit other church denominations just to see how they do things.  He hypothesized that Pentecostal and Non-Denominational Community churches, for example, are more vibrant and lively because they have embraced hope and joy.

hmmm.  I understand why one might think that, what with all the dancing and hand waving and Amen's and general outgoing-ness of those particular congregations, but I think I have another explanation.

I believe that traditional mainline protestant churches, such as Presbyterian and United, tend to attract introverts, whereas postmodern-esque churches, such as community churches and Pentecostals, tend to attract extroverts.  Take my own church: volunteer for a committee?  No thank you.  Invite a friend to church?  Sounds kinda lame.  Stand in front of the congregation and say something?  Not in your life!   It's not because we lack hope or joy; it's not because we're struggling in our faith; it's not because we're ashamed of what we believe.  It's because we're a bunch of introverts!  Like, hardcore introverts - a whole church of 'em!

I've been to those other churches, the more outgoing ones.  The ones where they shout and dance and sing and pray out loud and talk to people and do stuff.  And I generally find those churches overwhelmingly full of extroverts.

It has nothing to do with who has more or less hope and joy; it has everything to do with like-minded people gathering together to worship in a setting that is comfortable to them.

I'd be very interested in seeing a sociology study done on this. 
...of course, it won't be me doing the study - I'm too much of an introvert!

Thank You!

Yesterday I had a piece of mail returned to me.  It was a Thank You card that I had sent to one of Dave's aunts out in Alberta who had purchased us a wedding gift.  I mailed it in March.  Why it took EIGHT MONTHS to be returned to me, I have no idea.  But it reminded me that it took me close to a year to send out thank you cards for our wedding....  There's no way on God's green earth that I'm ever going to get around to sending out thank you cards for all the baby gifts I've received!

But I do appreciate the gifts!  ...a little overwhelmed by the shear number of them to be honest.  If you've ever wanted to open a lot of presents, just get married and then have a baby!  People are quite generous.

So, here is my public THANK YOU!  for all of the wonderful, thoughtful, and loving baby things we have received over the past 6 months.

Gramma – Novel “Wiped”; crib sheets; sleep sac; crocheted blanket; sweater & booties; car seat.

Marg, Stacey, Maddie & Christine – First Aid things; car sun shade; car mirror; bottle drying rack; crib sheets; onesie; bottle brush; baby powder

Patti & Georgia - $40 cash (used to buy the diaper pail)

Linda – Willow Creek mommy and baby in rocking chair figurine, set of 2012 collectors coins

Winterbell – Wash cloths; rattle; socks; bibs; lion onesie outfit; blanket; nursing pillow

Rae-Lynn – Lion onesie and lion hat; Jesus storybook bible

Debi – 2 overall outfits; quilted baby blanket made by Goderich Presbyterian Church ladies.  Also, white bonnet handmade by Debi’s mom Marilyn.

Danielle – Winnie the Pooh stuffed toy and Winnie the Pooh fuzzy blanket

Heather – 4 books; days of the week bibs; giant alphabet caterpillar; playschool farm activity mat

Jenn – Diaper Bag

Lisa & Carley– Frog Pod bath toy storage

Viola – Giant box of diapers and wipes

Kira – Goodnight Moon book

Bev & Tammy – Motorcyle made of receiving blankets, diapers, bibs, sippy cup, rattle & Tigger toy

Baba – Crib, Change table & Dresser

Diana, Jen, Jess & Leslie – 5 white onesies; Winnie the Pooh swaddling wrap; Winnie the Pooh bibs; wash cloths; receiving blankets; wipes; Sophie the Giraffe; Winnie the Pooh green fuzzy blanket

Great Gramma Rose – Monkey swaddle wrap; 4 piece Winnie the Pooh sleeper set

Great Gramma Lily - $60 Sears gift certificate (used to purchase high chair)

Kate – Wash mits & Rubber duckies; teddy bear

Frances  – Ducky sleeper; stuffed giraffe

Jackie & girls – 3 green onesies; polka-dot green lion fuzzy blanket

Michelle & Christine & girls – Baby Gap onesie and pant set; sleepers; bibs; photo album; white crocheted blanket

Shannon  – Cow Print onesie purchased in Taiwan

Nicole & Brady  – Basket of goodies: soap; shampoo; onesies & hats; boots; Noah’s Ark picture frame; Christmas ornament; blue fuzzy blanket

Alicia & Rebecca – Bedtime Bath Soaps gift basket; receiving blankets

Sean & Michelle  – giant box of diapers

Carmenie – Bee Storybook; sleepers

Gregory – Go *** **** to Sleep storybook

Mollie  – knitted hat and booties

Alex & Sally – Green backhoe overalls & t-shirt

Mary  – Bunnykins Royal Doulton baby mug and bowl set

Laura & Nancy  – Blanket; booties; onesies; 3-piece sleep set

Janis – Grumpy Bird book; Baby Gap farm onesie

Karen & Jerry  – Amber teething necklace

Sherry  – homemade crocheted blanket

Martin & Linda  - $20 (used to purchase stroller/car seat accessories)

Bob & Carol  - $20 (used to purchase Sleep Sheep)

Chatty Angels Slowpitch Team – Ball Glove & Ball; $40 Chidren’s Place gift certificate (purchased socks, blue jeans, sweat pants, two shirts)

Erin  – Warm fuzzy carseat liner/cover; Bears & honey bees crib bumper and skirt set; Activity mat with hanging toys

Helen & Frank – Striped Anchor onesie; Tools sleeper

Great Gramma Rose – ‘Major Cutie’ camouflage outfit

Ron & Wendy  – ‘Handsome’ & ‘Rockstar’ bibs and onesies

Mac & Edith  – Socks, warm fuzzy striped sleeper

Ian & Lois  – crib sheets, Winnie the Pooh blanket toy

John & Judy  – hooded bath towels, wash cloths, rubber ducky

Vicky  - $60 sears gift cards (purchased baby gate)

Chatsworth Agricultural Society - $50 Heritage Place Mall gift card (purchased crib mobile)

Mary – 2 T-shirt & short sets, Rubber Ducky

Scott & Stacey – homemade blue tractor blanket & two burp cloths

Alan & Carol  – Mickey Mouse hoodie and sweatpants

Heather & Josh  – homemade cloth book “D is for Dyson”

Jean  – Stripped polo shirt & green jeans (they’ll fit you when your 6!)

Muriel – red and white tied quilt

Me & Dave – Baby Spoon with name on it

Gramma & Grampa  – Cake for after the church service; Willow Creek angel/baby figurine

Baba & Bampa and the crew – Noah’s Ark story book; $85

Great Gramma & Grampa Lily & Roy - $25

Andy & Heather – recorded storybook “The Tale of the three Trees”

Tom & Winterbell – Hand/Food plaster mold; noisy toy

Latona Church – Picture Bible storybook

Tim & Rebecca, Alicia & Cliff – Noah’s Ark piggy bank

Viola & Bill – Glass baptism picture frame

Linda & Mel – blue Little Lamb picture frame

Marg & Francis – Green & Orange afghan blanket

Howard & Dana  – Baby’s first Christmas rattle ornament

Betty & Colin  – storybook “How Big is a Pig?”

Anne  – Blue Pig with blanket; T-shirt & Short set

Doug & Marilyn – Veggie Tales PJs

Mary – Sesame Street socks; navy blue corduroy pants; blue & white checked dress shirt; navy blue & blue striped long sleeved shirt

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!

Milestones

At 3 1/2 months, the D-Man has reached a very important milestone today in the life of all little boys - he now grabs his, *ahem*, boy parts while I change his diaper.  And he's pretty darned proud of it too!

Moments

Baby's asleep.
Husband's asleep.
Kitchen's cleaned up; dishwasher is running.
Laundry is in.

It may be 10:30 at night, but I've finally got 5 minutes to myself!

So what am I doing with this time?  Well, I should really be sleeping, but instead, I'm watching episodes of The Walking Dead.

As for this blog...
These days, when I think of something profound and blog-worthy, I don't have time to write it, what with a little man to look after and all.  And when I do have time to sit down and write something, I'm too exhausted to think straight!

Salsa

My husband loves salsa.  And I love my husband.  So last night we salsa'd.

Rather, we crushed 20 tonne of tomatoes, 3000 peppers, and enough onions to make Chuck Norris cry.  Then we added a truck load of garlic and other spices, boiled it for an hour and a half, and put it in jars.  Salsa.

By 'we' I mean that we, the both of us, actually did it together.  Something that you learn very quickly with a baby is that parenthood is a juggling act.  It requires one free hand for baby at all times - I'm actually  typing this blog with only one hand (please excuse the typos).  So last night as baby seemed to be exhibiting signs of teething (ack! at two months?!  I'm not ready for this), we were tag-teaming the rocking of child and salsa-ifying of tomatoes.

The results of our labours? A sleeping baby and 9 pint sized jars of salsa.

It seems that we should have also tag-teamed the putting on of lids.  I, for whatever reason, neglected to tighten the rings on the jars and they didn't seal.  Lame.  So this morning I got to re-boil, sterilize, jar, and clean everything all over again.  Woo!  ... the things you do for love.

Sleep

It is 10:30pm.  A little boy just fell asleep.

I keep getting asked if he's an easy baby; if he sleeps well through the night.  Yes and yes.

He will wake up between 2-3am for a bottle and a diaper change.  Then straight back to sleep.
He will then wake up between 5-6 am for another bottle and diaper change. 
Usually, he goes back to sleep again until about 7:30 or 8am.
Then starts a series of being awake for a couple hours and napping for a couple hours throughout the day.
He's usually napping around 11am or noon so that I can eat lunch.  He's usually napping again around 5 or 6pm so that I can also eat supper - he's very considerate that way.
We go into bedtime mode around 8:30pm.  Have a play time and a bath, change into PJs, lots of cuddles and a big bottle, and he's asleep by 10:30.

The best part?  He set the schedule himself, and it works!

I paid the price for messing with his schedule one day about a week ago.  We were visiting Dave's parents and I let him sleep through the entire evening.  Big mistake.  He fell asleep around 7pm and didn't wake up for his evening play time.  It was my fault, not his, so I couldn't really be mad at him for being wide awake and wanting to play from 2 - 4:30am!  But boy was it painful!


So there you go.  I don't know what your definition of 'sleeping through the night' is (everyone's expectations seem to be different), but he does sleep well and I sleep well enough to not go crazy.

Things my husband does

My husband, whom I love immensely (but maybe don't show it as often as I should), is guilty of doing the following:

-sweeping the floor

-changing poopy diapers

-BBQing like a pro-star

-changing poopy diapers

-pacing the floors with a cranky baby at 2am even though he has to work early

-changing poopy diapers

-maintaining my car: even the little things like topping up the tires with air, which I could do myself, but it's so much better when he does it for me

-changing poopy diapers

-making the bed.  Probably more often than I do it.

-changing poopy diapers

-grocery shopping.  Dare I say, he even likes grocery shopping!

-changing poopy diapers

-laundry

-changing poopy diapers

-emptying the dishwasher

-changing poopy diapers

-cooking breakfast

-changing poopy diapers

-being awesome in general


oh, did I mention, he changes poopy diapers?

...there's more, but there's also a baby to take care of. 
Baby trumps Blog; bye!

The D-Man

They'll tell you that I named my son after a vacuum.  But really, is it any worse than naming your kid after a car (Bentley, Mercedes), or a dead profession (Cooper, Tanner), or your Great Aunt Hilda (Hilda)?  At least I picked a good vacuum brand, right?

Alright, so lets set the record straight:

I did NOT name my child after a vacuum.













I did NOT name my child after a man who invented a vacuum.

I did NOT name my child after some crazy scientist who came up with some sort of energy hypothesis.

I did NOT name my child after a rugby player.

I did NOT name my child after a TV Werewolf.








So where did the name come from?  
You will notice above two examples of 'Dyson' as a last name and two examples of 'Dyson' as a first name.  It seems to be far more common as a last name and so uncommon as a first name that most people I know have never even heard of it before.

It is such an uncommon name that most baby naming websites (and trust me when I say I've visited ALL OF THEM) don't even have an entry for 'Dyson'.  The best you're going to find is that Dyson is an Old English name possibly meaning son of Dye, son of Dennis, or son of Dave.  Fitting I suppose, but the meaning of the name is not why we chose it.

The name, to me, is not uncommon at all - having known an Uncle Dyson all my life.  In fact, not only is my Father's Mother's brother named Dyson, my Father's Mother's Mother's brother was also a Dyson.  (That'd by my Great Uncle and Great Great Uncle for anyone trying to keep track).  So it's a family name.  That's still not really why we picked the name.

We had a significant amount of trouble picking a boy's name - which wasn't a really big deal since, right up until the end, we both thought we were going to be getting a girl!  However, I still insisted on having a name picked just in case.  We were looking for a name that wasn't overused, and uncommon but not unusual - no Moon-Units in our family!  So we had a list.  A rather long list; I think there were close to 40 possible boy names on it by the time we chose one.  And lets face reality here: I put all the names on the list, and one by one, Dave stroked them off because they were too boring, or normal, or he knew someone with that name who was a dingus, or he just didn't like it.  FINALLY, 'Dyson' was added to the list and it was picked because it was just the right amount of unique without being crazy.

As for the vacuum thing... We decided that we'll just teach Dyson to beat people up who make fun of his name.  :P

Break of the curse

'Natural' Childbirth be damned!

No, seriously, it's biblical - something tucked into that very first book about Eve having eaten a forbidden fruit and God punishing all of women-dom with painful childbearing.

I spent an extraordinary amount of time reading up about this whole pregnancy and labour thing over the past year or so, because, quite frankly, it scared the bejeezus out of me.  I found an incredibly helpful website which, if you find yourself pregnant, I would highly recommend to you: www.babycenter.ca.

This website has it all.  Everything, EVERYTHING, you could possibly want to know about pregnancy, childbirth, dealing with cranky babies (and toddlers, and husbands, and hormones), and everything in between.  ...And a whole lot of stuff you'd probably rather not know!

This website also has a forum where you can log in and post your own questions or feelings or experiences and others can comment and leave their own thoughts and opinions on the matter.  Sometimes, it's helpful to hear it from others who have walked the walk ahead of you.  Other times, it's just damn annoying!

Over the months I have spent reading these forums, and gleaning helpful hints and tips from them, I have come to realize that there are some mothers out there with simply too much time on their hands.  They have an agenda and they must spend 90% of their day trolling these forums simply to spread their agenda to the poor impressionable first-time pregnant women.  Honestly, I don't know how they have so much free time to spend sitting on the internet responding to everything on the forums - but they do!  And they are very opinionated.

The agenda, of course, is all-natural childbirth.  Get a midwife, deliver at home, don't take drugs, only breastfeed, use cloth diapers, make sure you co-sleep with your newborn, and carry your new baby 24-7 like some sort of monkey. blah, blah, blah

Now, being that approximately 100,000,000,000 women have all done this whole childbearing thing aux-natural over the past bajillion years or so, their arguments for natural childbirth are pretty convincing.  And being a first-timer with no idea what to really expect, and no idea how your body will handle the experience, and really no idea what your pain threshold is, or how painful the whole thing really is (maybe they just say it's painful to make their husbands feel bad??), you start to think - yeah, if they could do this, than so can I, gosh darn it!  After all, there are some really good reasons for keeping things 100% organic.

Well, let me tell you - childbearing IS a curse from God.  And it is a pain like you have never felt before.  But I'm pretty sure that the day the human race figured out the epidural was the day that God lifted the curse on childbearing.  Sure, He was pissed at Eve, and he punished her, and every woman along with her.  It may have taken 6,000 years, but I think He got over it and graced us with the ability to create drugs to stop the pain.  And let me tell you - the drugs are good.

I was, umm, 'blessed' with the experience of enduring active labour drug-free for a number of hours.  It was bearable; but it sucked.  And it hurt.  And it was uncomfortable.  And it was kind of scary because there was this constant unknown of 'ok, that one hurt a lot; are they going to get worse?  Or is that the worst?  I can deal with this if that's the worst, but if it gets worse than this..... just shoot me now!' - and no one can answer those questions for you.

I was then blessed with the opportunity to take the drugs.  The caveat being that you've gotta sit perfectly still, even through the most painful of contractions, while they shove a giant needle in your back - not an easy task.  But let me tell you, the drugs are like a vacation.  They make labour easy, almost enjoyable - worth doing again.  And I'm not afraid to say that next time, should there be a next time, I won't try to tough it out, I won't be a hero, I'll take the drugs.  I won't wait; I'll take them as soon as they're offered.  I'll request the drugs.  I'll sign up for the drugs now!  The curse is broken!  Childbearing doesn't have to be painful anymore!  Amen.

Not pregnant

I read an incredibly helpful and very informative pregnancy book while I was pregnant; it suggested that now that baby is here and I have so much free time on my hands because I'm no longer working, that I should start a 'Mommy Blog'.  It should be named something cutesy and flowery and should only discuss how wonderful and perfect everything is and unicorns and rainbows and things.

I'm probably not going to do that.

I've been neglecting my blog lately - and that was before the babe came along.  So the chances of me keeping you up to date now are slim; sorry 'bout that, but it's just reality.

But, I mean, I guess if you want all the gross and unpleasant details of the experience of labour and delivery I suppose I could blog about it...  However, I feel like some of you may never read my blog again if I wrote about that!

Suffice to say, there is a child now.  Obviously, he is perfect and far cuter than any other baby on the planet.  And, I've quickly learned that it is very possible to survive on 4 hours or so of interrupted sleep each night.  No big deal.

Beeeeeez

My husband officially became a keeper of bees this week.
It's been a long time coming; it's something that he's been wanting to do for years - long before he and I ever started hanging out together.

You know how I wrote about him having hand, foot and mouth a few weeks ago, and how completely miserable it was for him to have an itchy burning rash all over his hands and feet?  Well, now he comes home with stingers hanging off his clothing, and swollen fingers, and proudly shows me all the places where he's been stung that day - and is really happy about it all!

I got to go see his bees yesterday.  Being pregnant, I have a valid excuse to not get too close to the bees just yet, so I sat nearby and watched him and his beekeeping buddy do their thing with the bees.  It's a very nice spot.  Think: rolling farm fields covered in blooming red clover, a nearby pond, and a bunch of happy worker bees nestled into a grove of trees.  Now, as long as the bears stay away, we'll be good to go!

So what's my job in all this?  Well, eventually, someday, I'll probably have to get close enough to the bees to risk being stung myself and actually do some physical labour.  But until then, I'm the stay-at-home-beekeeping-bookkeeper.  Beekeeping is classified as agriculture.  It's pretty much the only farming you can do without actually having any land.  It also comes with a lot of paperwork and rules & regulations that I've been told I'm in charge of!

Anyway, who knows where it'll go from here.  It might continue to be something small to keep Dave occupied on weekends, or, in 10 years, we might be hauling in a million dollars worth of honey each year!  (Hahaha.... just kidding - it is FARMING after all.  'Profit' and 'Farming' don't usually belong in the same sentence!)

One Month

I get two comments on a daily basis now:

1. You must be getting excited!

2.  You're not very big...


Ok, for starters, 'excited' and I don't hang out much.  Especially when it comes to thoughts of LABOUR AND DELIVERY, and endless crying, and poopy diapers, and sleepless nights.  You get my point?  It's not exciting.  It's the opposite of exciting.  It's pretty much terrifying.  You can only watch so many YouTube videos to prepare for such a thing!

And no, baby showers do not make it any more 'real'.  Neither does a fully furnished baby room, nor being kicked in the ribs at 3am, nor watching the date on the calendar creep ever closer.  It just really doesn't.  I don't think it will be real until there is a screaming child handed to me and someone says 'this belongs to you', and I say, 'Ok, this is real'.  The other day, I was told by a friend with a two year old that it took her about a month of living in a fog before one day she realized that, 'holy cow, I really am a mother'.  It's just the way it goes. 


And as for not being very big....
I'm really, really sorry?  Apparently, the 45lbs I've gained is invisible to everyone but me.  I feel like a freakin' sumo wrestler!  I surpassed the boob to belly ratio ages ago, and am now working on the belly to toe ratio - you know, that point where you look down and can no longer see your own toes.

Speaking of feet: Cankles are ....awesome?

Hand, Foot and Ouch

Most people I know have never even heard of Hand Foot & Mouth Disease.  Not to be mistaken with Hoof and Mouth Disease, Hand Foot & Mouth is "a mild, contagious viral infection common in young children (and) is characterized by sores in the mouth and a rash on the hands and feet"

Well, let me tell you, this so called 'mild' virus has had my husband couch-bound for the past 4 days.

It starts with a text message from your husband saying that he has a sore throat.  And then, part way through the day, he gets hit by a truck.  Or maybe he just felt like he was hit by a truck...  Then you come home to find him sitting in a 30 degree vehicle, shivering.  You know right then that it's going to be a long night!

Step two of Hand Foot & Mouth is the fever.  Like a good wife, I made him a nest on the couch so that he could alternate between shivering and boiling in peace while I lonesomely went to bed by myself.  Yeah, yeah, yeah!  Of course I looked after him!  Geez... I brought him water and Gatorade and chicken noodle soup and ice packs and Tylenol all evening.  And THEN I went to bed and left him to suffer alone on the couch.

Step three is tricky.  You start to get a foot rash but mistake it for a sneak attack of athletes foot while your immune system is run down and you're all hot and uncomfortable.  Don't be fooled.  And for the love of all things good and holy, do not, DO NOT, put athletes foot spray on it!  Unfortunately, I wasn't there to see the reaction firsthand, (one of us has to work), but apparently it went from bad to worse in about two seconds as the rash spread and blistered faster than hubby could wash the stuff off his feet.  Definitely not athletes foot.

So, that's two days of your life wasted on this 'mild' viral infection.  Day three is spent laying on the couch, unable to get any sleep, as the rash blisters and burns and itches and spreads.  It then starts to appear on the palms of your hands, and a few other uncomfortable places.  And a search for some relief begins.  We now have a full assortment of creams, ointments, sprays, salts, antihistamines, and other concoctions meant to help sooth and relieve itchy, burn-y, rashes.  Most of which don't work very well.  Funny thing - you'd expect to find some helpful advice on the internet.  But alas, Hand Foot & Mouth is a MILD infection and there is no specific treatment other than a suggestion to rinse with mouthwash if the sores in your mouth get irritating.  Mouth sores are the only thing the poor guy is not suffering with!

Day four is more of the same.  Hopefully, the rash has finally reached it's peak and will start healing now.  But of course, by now his feet are so raw and sore he can hardly walk and the rash on his hands has spread enough that he doesn't want to touch anything around the house for fear of leaving a trail of contagion everywhere he goes. 

The moral of the story is that Hand Foot & Mouth might be a mild virus in children, but it can be a real bugger in adults, so make sure to get your kids exposed to it when they're young!  If your kid gets it, have a party, invite all the neighbourhood kids - they'll thank you when they're older.


What works
Apparently, nothing, really.  I suppose that's why the great Google gods can't offer a decent treatment.  However, through trial and error, Dave has found a few things that offer temporary relief.  If you have found this blog because you yourself are looking for some relief, I promise nothing, but I hope these suggestions help, and maybe you could leave some of your own in the comment section:

- Wrap your feet in ice packs.  Helps with the burning, but leaves you cold after awhile.

- Soak your feet in cool salt water.  Water by itself doesn't do much.  Epsom salt water feels really good while your feet are in it, but dries out the rash too much when you take your feet out - leaving them more painful than before you soaked them.  Try plain ol' table salt in water.  It seems to reduce the red inflammation and doesn't dry out the area too much. Unfortunately, Dave never did find a comfortable way to fall asleep with his feet in a bucket of cool water.

- I had a Shoppers Drug Mart pharmacist recommend Aveeno eczema cream, which seemed to work for a bit, as long as you don't mind reapplying it on every half hour or so.

- He then tried some Lanacane first aid spray with mixed results.  It sort of numbed the pain for quite awhile, but didn't do much for the heat and burning.

- The winner so far is Webbers Vitamin E first aid cream.  It seems to work for a couple hours before he has to reapply it.  Maybe he'll actually get some sleep tonight.


What didn't work
- The same Shoppers Drug Mart pharmacist suggested a product called Buro-sol Antiseptic Powder.  Apparently it's a God-send for people suffering with poison ivy, but Dave's rash wasn't itchy enough to really benefit from it.  It was sort of a *meh* moment.

- Diaper rash cream (15% zinc).  Calamine lotion.  Polysporin.  They feel great going on, but once you stop applying them (ie: after 30 seconds), the burning returns.  I'd like him to try some heavy duty diaper rash cream with 40% zinc to see if that works any better, but we haven't got there yet.

- Tinactin athletes foot spray and cream.  Just.  Don't.

- Any type of cortisone cream.  Dave didn't try this, he didn't have to, it's not recommended for use on rashes caused by viruses.  Something about the steroids in it slowing down the healing process.  I don't know; Google it.  The pharmacist told me 'no'.

Also, even though you're trying to be the good patient and want to clean up after yourself, don't go wiping down the bathroom sink with disinfectant wipes with your rash-covered hands.  You will feel pain.  Lots and lots of pain.

3 Months

Today is April 13th.  3 months from today is July 13th - the 'official' due date.  So, to celebrate, here is another list of stuff that I dislike about this whole process:


1. Mama.  *I* am not 'Mama'.  Not to this baby, and definitely not to you.  My name is Amy.  Please continue calling me Amy.  I hate that word 'mama' soooooo much.  Like nails on a chalkboard, only worse.

2.  The 'due date' conversation.  It goes something like this:
"When are you due?"  "Mid-July."  "Yeah, but, when?  What's the actual date?"
Well, friends, technically, according to the fetal measurements taken by the ultrasound tech (who, incidentally, has absolutely no idea when the 'bedroom party' took place), I will be at exactly 40 weeks gestation on July 13th.  However, it is perfectly healthy and normal for a baby to be born anytime between 37 and 42 weeks gestation.  I know someone who recently had a healthy baby at 35 weeks, and someone else who almost went the full 42 weeks.  There is, in fact, only a 5% chance that baby will be born on the doctor-predicted due date.  So, when I say mid-July, it's because no one knows for sure....

3.  The 'baby just has to be born on my birthday' conversation.  From what I've read, baby probably isn't going to make a grand entrance into the world just because it's your birthday - and I'm certainly not going to try to hold it in for an extra day just for your birthday!  Do you have any idea how popular July is as a birthday month?  There's a reasonably good chance that I might hit one of your birthdays, but I can't please all of you! Take solace in the fact that there are only 365 days to the year and over 6 billion people (or is that 7 billion now?) in the world.  You probably share a birthday with at least one other person already.

4. "Geez, do you even have a bump yet?  When I was pregnant I was SOOOO much bigger than you!"   So?  I'm also 6 inches taller than you.  Do you want to fight about it?  Or do you want me to feel sorry for you?  Really, there's not a lot I can do about it, I promise.

5.  "How much weight have your gained anyway?"  That's really none of you *&^$# business.  I hit numbers on the scale yesterday that I've never seen before in my life!  And it didn't feel very good.  And I'm just going to gain more for the next 3 months.  So, buzz off.  ...and pass me the cupcakes.

Oh, and by the way, sisters-in-law get automatic baby-bump touching privileges (mostly because I can't stop them, even when I promise them that the baby isn't kicking), but NO ONE ELSE DOES!!  Just remember, I'm a raging hormonal pregnant woman - I can kill you now and get away with it!

10 seconds

I have this friend named Max.  I have known Max for forever and a day.  Max is getting married next January to a beautiful girl named Jenn.  Max and Jenn have entered some sort of crazy contest where the winner gets $10,000 worth of wedding planning/photography etc.

Having just been married myself, and knowing how stupidly expensive it is just to hold a simple celebration, I've been willingly clicking all the appropriate links to help get Max & Jenn further along in their contest.  Currently, they have made it to round two: Blogging.

They need to keep a blog, and keep it interesting.  AND.... get lots of visitors.

Max & Jenn are good kids, so would you take 10 seconds to click this link and visit their blog?


http://jennandmaxweddingthreesome.wordpress.com/

Today's blog entry featured my little brother, who happens to be Max's best man.

March "Break"

We're down to the final hours of March Break - the sunniest and warmest March Break possibly ever!  It has been a really great week to have off work.  Although....  It seems that Adult March Break is far different than Kid March Break.

Dave and I bought a recliner last weekend.  So, I spent all day Tuesday (I worked on Monday) rearranging furniture so that the new recliner would have a space in our house.  Anyone who has ever rearranged furniture knows that with rearranging comes some major cleaning as you unearth gargantuan dust bunnies that have been growing for the past number of years!  It took pretty well all day, but I am happy with the results.  It's a much more baby-friendly space now too.

As with all new furniture, with a new recliner comes an awesome cardboard box!  This box happens to be almost cube shaped.  Roughly 3ft or so.  Small enough to fit in the front door, but too big to fit down the hallway into the front room to be stored for a rainy day.  So, it sat in our kitchen for two days as I tried to come up with a way to transport it to somewhere, anywhere, else!  Eventually, I managed to borrow a truck and take it to the inlaw's where our nephews and I spent an afternoon turning the box into a spectacular castle!  Dave's mom may not be too happy that it's in her house instead of in my house, but, the kids love it!

The rest of the week has been filled with errands and cleaning and laundry and writing thank you cards and putting out lawn furniture and trying to get over this stupid ridiculous cold.  And now that Sunday is here, the mad scramble is on to finish all those tasks that I said I would complete this week!   ....maybe it will rain this afternoon so that I'll have no desire to go outside to do anything else but what I should be doing.

Unload

Dave got kicked last night.  It made him especially smiley.  I guess when the person doing the kicking weighs less than a pound, it makes it ok.


The secretary's printer at work continues to just randomly not print.  It seems to be online and ready to print, but... nothing.  More importantly, why am *I* the techy goto person??


I've always thought that it would be a good idea to take some time off work after my crazy year end season is over, but I never do.  This year, I am.  Next week happens to be March Break and I will not be at work.  Hopefully, this will become an annual occurrence.   Not that it will really be much of a vacation this year - I plan to use my time stripping wallpaper off a certain bedroom wall, and writing long overdue Thank you cards; both chores that have been neglected for far too long.


I had grand plans for my income tax rebate this year, so I was eager to get them done and get that rebate.  I've never done my taxes before the end of April before, that's just how excited I was about it!  But then came the dreaded question: "Has your marital status changed?"  Let's just say that marriage is not a particularly good tax incentive.  Aside from that one little check mark from 'single' to 'married', my tax return is pretty well identical to last year's.  So, why is it that my rebate is about $200 less than it was last year?  That really put a damper on my level of excitement.  ....I had plans for that money.  (frowny face)

And then I did my husband's taxes.  That was even more disappointing.  He actually owes money.  I was not impressed.  All we did was get married and suddenly our rebates total about 1/3 of last year's.  *sigh*  Hopefully, having children will prove to be a better tax incentive.

The most frustrating part of the evening came when I tried to actually file my tax return on the CRA website.  It seems that I cannot file my taxes until I notify them of my name change - something I thought I had already done.  Although I have already informed them of my marital status change, and have been properly stripped of my GST rebates because of it, and, although I have a brand new SIN card with my married name on it, that I received straight from Service Canada, it seems that I have not gone to the proper lengths to inform the tax man of my name change.  But not to worry!  All you have to do is log onto 'My Account' on the CRA website and make the change - easy peasy.  Except it's not.  First, you have to set up an account with a user name and password and about 15 security questions including your blood type and the birth date of your first pet, and then...  they'll mail you a verification code that you have to enter to verify your account.  Mail. Not email - MAIL.  As in, in about 5 days, you'll get a piece of paper in your mailbox.  All so that I can tell them something that they should already know, and honestly really shouldn't matter because my social insurance number (aka - the way the government keeps track of me) has not changed.  This is about the time of the evening that my tax return paperwork almost went flying across the room.

I'll never be excited about filing my taxes again.

It's a..... Baby!

A couple days ago my husband told me that I was probably right.

!

I know, right?!  That's an exciting day!  I've heard that some women can go an entire lifetime without their husbands giving in and saying those most wonderful words: 'yes dear, you're right'.   So the fact that, after only 8 short months of marriage, I got a 'you're probably right', is a very good step in the right direction!

Of course, we're talking about baby gender.

There is a period of time, about a week or 10 days or so, between, well as the Dr put it, 'when the party happened', and when a woman will get a positive pregnancy test.  It will be the longest week of your life.  During that longest week of *my* life, in which I deliberately chose to not let my hubby in on the secret (for fear that he would go insane and buy a case full of pregnancy tests), I very clearly and calmly thought to myself, 'self, you are pregnant and it is going to be a girl'.

Why?  I don't know.  Well.... I mean, I know why I thought I was pregnant (and if you ask my husband he'll say he knew too - even without a case of pregnancy tests).  But why a girl?  I don't know.  But that's what I thought, and that thought hasn't changed.

Now, don't get me wrong.  Neither of us care.  The fact that it's a baby is both nerve wracking and exciting enough - we certainly don't feel the need to go wishing and hoping and dreaming about a certain gender.  In all honesty, I find little boys much easier to deal with than little girls (that might be the result of me growing up with two little brothers though).   But there is no doubt in my mind that this is a girl. 

So there you go.  With zero scientific evidence on my side, I have single handedly ruined any chance of a fair and unbiased baby pool.  Because it's a girl; I just know.

Since that ominous day, that now feels like a lifetime ago, we have had the fortune of having a few ultrasounds - which, by the way, are really, really cool.  Just last week we had the 20 week anatomy ultrasound.  Basically, we got to watch video of this little tiny human kick and wriggle and suck it's thumb and roll around for about an hour while the ultrasound tech took pictures and measurements and counted fingers and things like that.  She could have very easily told us the gender, but we asked her to keep it a surprise.  Surprises, after all, are fun for everyone.  Besides, I think it's a little creepy when people actually name their baby while it's still in utero.  Or... even worse, when the parents deck out the entire nursery and wardrobe for a specific gender and then find out the ultrasound tech was wrong!  ha! 

So the gender will remain a surprise.  But just so you know, after the ultrasound, my husband looked at me and said, 'I think you're probably right - it's a girl.'


:)

I'm just happy knowing that he thinks I'm right.

The Middle

Have you seen this new family sitcom?   Well.. 'new' to me.  Apparently it's in its third season and I'm just discovering it now.

The only reason we turned it on the other day is because the little kid in it looks eerily like the little brother from Malcom in the Middle.  Malcom in the Middle / The Middle.... figured it was some sort of really lame Hollywood redo.

It wasn't bad.  A couple ok laughs.  And it's nice to have a sitcom that isn't full of sexual innuendo for a change.  The little kid though, soooo freaky to watch.  Look:

This is Brick Heck from The Middle (played by Atticus Shaffer).  Remind you of anyone?

And then there's Dewey from Malcom in the Middle (played by Erik PerSullivan)


At first, I didn't want to believe that Hollywood was into cloning, but, what other explanation is there??  They even have the same squeaky little voices! (Of course, maybe all 10 year olds have the same squeaky little voices...) 




 A couple of the other characters are obviously familiar.  The dad is the janitor from Scrubs.  And the mom also played the mom from Everybody loves Raymond (she's just got a really really bad hair cut now).  I don't know who the older son is; he's got a bit of a Fonzie thing going on though.  But the sister!  For the life of me, I couldn't place the sister.  But then it hit me - Blossom!  Another look alike, albeit, with awkward braces, but still!  Unreal.

Sue Heck (played by Eden Sher)

And... Blossom, aka Amy Farrah Fowler from everyone's favourite show Big Bang Theory, (played by Mayim Bialik).







Spooky.
Almost enough to make you want to watch the show, right?

I'm an introvert; I don't do 'excited'.

Much like I didn't want to turn this into a Bridezilla blog back in the summertime, I also don't want to turn it into a crazed baby-brain gushy mommy blog now.  However, this is *my* soapbox and I need to vent.


"Good job you two!  Congratulations!  You must be sooooooo(oooooooooo) excited!"
I have heard this no less than 50 billion times over the past two weeks.


I am an introvert.  I find being in the spotlight really, really exhausting and I am just about at my limit of being able to politely reply to this daily barrage of gushy sentiments.  I fear that the next person who extols their deepest well-wishes upon me might end up with a reply like this (I apologize in advance):


Good job!
Good job?!  You're joking right?  Do you know how babies are made??  Tab A goes into Slot B.... etc, etc...   It is not a 'good job' in any sense of the word!  Painting a room without getting paint on the trim is a 'good job'; running a band saw without cutting off your arm is a 'good job'.  Conception isn't exactly a job, let alone a 'good' one.  Now, I know that there are people out there who literally spend years upon years and thousands of dollars in treatments trying to conceive, and when they do, THAT is a good job; they've worked hard for that.  What my husband and I did was nothing more than a quick magic trick (don't tell my offspring I said this).  Sort of like: "Oooh, let's see if this works.  What do you know, it did!  That was fun."  Not a good job!  In fact, I feel a little guilty about just how easy it was for us.

Congratulations!
... I know that 'congratulations' is the standard response to good news, and while there's no denying that bringing a baby into the world is good news, you do know that you're congratulating me for, *ahem*, having sex, right?  That's a little awkward, isn't it?

So excited!
Apprehensive, overwhelmed, self-conscience, unsure, tired... these are words I would use.  'Excited' is currently not one of these words.  Now, don't get me wrong, I am absolutely content with our decision to reproduce (and yes, it was a decision, made before the fact - just to be clear); I am delighted that the process is 1/3 of the way through already and has been pretty painless so far, I am looking forward to cuddling with a little person, and I am somewhat relieved to know that now I'll have someone to pay my nursing home bills when I'm 90!  But between now and then....  Not only am I completely unsure of what sort of parent I'll be, I have six more months of everything about myself becoming foreign to me.  I'm going to grow out of my clothes; my centre of balance is going to change; my food tastes are going to change; heartburn is already a regular occurrence, as are some other gastrointestinal things I won't bother mentioning;  the amount of blood circulating through my veins is going to increase by 50%, making me more susceptible to nose bleeds; my ligaments are going to loosen so that my hips can move further apart; my abdomen muscles are going to split to make room for the little rib-kicker, and my happy little 'innie' is going to be an 'outie' before too long.  Pile all this with doctor appointments, ultrasounds, blood tests, and more poking and prodding than I care to think about - oh and let us not forget the apex of the story: delivery.  I hear that delivery of a 9lb bundle of joy with a bowling ball sized head is, well....  Let's just say it doesn't excite me too much. 

People are shocked when you try to explain to them why you're not bursting with excitement about the whole process.  It's almost as if there's a consensus among the general population that the level of enthusiasm shown while pregnant is co-related to how good a parent you'll make.  I'm pretty sure this isn't true.  I'm pretty sure it's just me being an introvert and wanting to not be the centre of attention anymore.  But so help me God, if I have to start putting little hearts in all my facebook status updates to show my pregnancy excitement, I'm going to sell this child!