Just write. See what happens.
Latest BEST TOY EVER:
The Booger-Sucker.
A few squirts of air in the face from the nasal aspirator can transform E instantaneously from a grumpy, crying baby to a euphoric, laughing baby – you won’t believe your eyes, folks! I’m hoping to catch this phenomenon on video very soon.
This is a great discovery, since in all honesty this little gadget is not that great at sucking boogers.
Yes, I cleaned it first.
Categories: Bébépourri.
Hello, dear readers,
I apologize for my absence the last few days. I am in the process of a sea-blog-change.
As the end of my maternity leave creeps closer, I am wishing more and more fervently that I could only go back to work part-time (or, since I’m wishing, how about not at all?). I know that teaching full-time is a large expenditure of personal energy, and I would come home and only want to spend time with my own kid. Blogging would definitely fall by the wayside.
And yet, I hope not to give up blogging, because I’ve discovered that having an reason to write on a regular basis, even if it’s just a wee post, has been a joy to me. I used to write obsessively when I was a kid: stories, novels, poems, and especially journals. It’s good for my soul. But lately, all those things have been neglected because I have other priorities. I can’t spare time to write just for me.
Then I started a blog on a whim, and a few people enjoyed reading it! Now, even though just you couple dozen people witness my posts, it’s enough to justify me writing… and I get to benefit from that process. Thank you for reading, so that I can write.
There is a bigger (more awkward, elephantine) point to be made here. I am soon going to move my blog to a new independent site… it will look all different… I will be able to do more things with it… and… there will most likely be ads on it. I don’t know in what form yet. I hope they will not offend your sensibilities, readers.
I know to some bloggers that’s a sell-out/cop-out/travesty. I’m sorry about that. I would probably feel the same, except that I can’t afford to. Is it better not to blog at all? Not in my mind.
As it is, I have no idea if this will pan out. Some bloggers end up with a decent income this way, and many don’t whatsoever. I am looking at it as an experiment similar to the one I initiated when I started blogging in the first place: let’s do this, and see what happens.
In the meantime, I am pretty excited about my new blog, as I will get to use my own header art, and a domain name of my choosing, and put up videos and so on. I think it will be aesthetically pleasing and fun to use…
and I hope you’ll keep reading.
Categories: Bloggenesis.
Yesterday I attended my first official clothing exchange party. It was smashing! (The good kind.) Now, read on, and see if you can guess what that big F-word up there means.
I’ve been at events where clothing was exchanged, but this was hard-core. A belly dancer friend of mine invited me – and I guess this is a pretty long-standing tradition for her, because she clearly knows how to throw a clothing exchange. The invite just said to bring any clothes, shoes, accessories, etc. that you don’t need any more, and bring a salad, appetizer, or dessert that you love, and that’s it. Who knew that’s all you need for such a successful event!
I walked in with my bags, about half an hour after the technical start of the evening, and was amazed. My first impression was that of a feeding frenzy. Clothes were piled up on the various pieces of furniture and a dozen women (out of at least double that) were immediately visible, rooting through the loot, yowling and scratching as they fought over cuter items, stripping naked and flinging garments willy-nilly.
Okay, no, I’m letting my imagination run away with me. (Maybe I just wanted an excuse to use the word willy-nilly.) They were rooting through stuff, and it was a curtains-drawn, ladies-only event (except for Waldo the puppy), so there were women getting down to their scanties in order to try things on (though some used bathrooms). And they were all shapes and sizes, and all exchanging opinions and making recommendations, having a gab-fest, and creating an instant, if temporary, community. And wow, the sheer volume of cast-offs was impressive; not just clothes, but shoes, bags, wallets, scarves, books, jewelry, cosmetics, you name it. Also, the kitchen was packed to the gills with yummy food, especially dips (five-layer salsa dip, at least two kinds of hummus, and that cream-cheese-caramel apple dip, to name a few).
Now, I’m not the biggest clothes horse out there, but I can’t deny that an opportunity to give one’s wardrobe a boost for the cost of some brownies is highly appealing. Mostly, I wandered around and looked at stuff, and gave solicited opinions on people’s choices. Several of my fellow belly dancers were there, a few of whom seem to be sartorially blessed to look good in everything they try on, even the iffier pieces.
The two best things:
1) finding a pair of jeans that fit like they were made for me – does that ever really happen??
2) watching the two little girls of one of my dancer friends. Both beautiful, with outrageous mops of brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. One is about ten months old, the other two years. The former got stolen away by two older moms in need of their baby fixes (actually I know them both from Parent Council at my school, and come to think of it, they did the same with my baby at the Teacher Appreciation Luncheon), and fell asleep in-arms, adorably. The latter got right into it, trying out the snacks, scoping out garments and obviously preferring the pretty bras, holding them against her stomach and then dropping about a dozen of them into a bag (for her, for Mom – who knows?), and finally succumbing to the untamed estrogen in the atmosphere and stripping naked (see? I told you!) at a rate of one item of clothing per ten minutes. Without a doubt, cutest bum in the room.
So to sum up: festrogabulous! Go in with whatever you want, come out with whatever you want more. Try it yourself!
Categories: Bellyciousness, Humanitrivia, Zesty Kitchen.
Have you ever had a baby upchuck almost his entire carefully homemade dinner because of an immature gag reflex, and upon observing the warm, still-very-fresh food that looks exactly like it did on the way in, fleetingly think, I could just re-feed him this!
I haven’t, not me. No sirree.
But if you did, don’t you think you’d feel a little bit validated if said baby then reached to plunge both hands into the puddle of puke?
I might. Hypothetically speaking.
Categories: Bébépourri.
Sherlock Holmes Review By A Normal Gal
I know many many people have already seen this film, since it was in theatres forever, but I don’t get out much. Oh well.
Here’s what I liked:
Here’s what I didn’t like:
Alors, overall: not a particularly profound or poignant movie-going experience, but a firm, hearty Huzzah! Dilovely LIKED IT.
Categories: BANG Movie Reviews, PopCulturalism.
I was thinking perhaps I should provide a translation of these Valentine verses (especially since my hubby and prime Valentine has great mastery of only certain words in French), and then I had an idea for an experiment. How about I try my hand at translating… and then let the InterWeb have a go… and see which one we like best!
First, the original again:
Lorsque tu seras vieux et que je serai vieille
Lorsque mes cheveux blonds seront des cheveux blancs,
Au mois de mai, dans le jardin qui s’ensoleille,
Nous irons réchauffer nos vieux membres tremblants.
Comme le renouveau mettra nos coeurs en fête,
Nous nous croirons encore de jeunes amoureux;
Et je te sourirai tout en branlant la tête,
Et nous ferons un couple adorable de vieux.
Lovely stuff. Now, here’s my amateurish attempt – I don’t feel comfortable yet straying from the translation to do rhymes and such:
When you are old and I am old
When my blond hair has become white hair,
In the month of May, in the garden bathed in sunlight,
We’ll go warm up our old trembling limbs.
As the renewal puts celebration in our hearts,
We’ll believe ourselves young lovers still;
And I will smile at you as I shake my head,
And we’ll make an adorable old couple.
Here’s the attempt by Yahoo! Babel Fish:
When you are old and that I will be old
When my fair hair is grey hair,
In May, in the garden which shines upon,
We will heat our old trembling members.
As the revival will put our hearts in festival,
We will still believe ourselves of young people in love;
And I will smile you while shaking the head,
And we will make an adorable couple of old man.
And finally, Google Translate:
When you are old and I am old
When will my blonde hair white hair
In May, the garden s’ensoleille,
We’ll warm our old limbs trembling.
As the revival will our hearts in celebration,
We will believe even young lovers;
And I’ll smile while shaking his head,
And we’ll do a couple of lovely old.
******
Huh. Now that I look at these… I’m pretty sure I didn’t win. But at least it proves my proclamation to my Grade 9 French students from back in the day: if you use an internet translator, I WILL KNOW.
Categories: Miscelliterature.
I wonder if this is a common problem. Apparently, I’ve got a baby with too many plans.
As I write this, I feel quite sure this is a common problem. Tracy Hogg (the Baby Whisperer) even said so, and what a relief to see it in print: at this age, you just need to “ride out the inconsistencies”. We’ve basically gotten rid of the catnap, but recently the tendency is for E to stay up all evening, much longer than he used to, then sleep for the length of a catnap and wake up again. He’s all yawny and eye-rubby, but also arm-wavy, air-strummy, and rolly. (Except when he’s very very sleepy, he is intolerant of his swaddle, the thing that most helped him settle.)
Tracy has solutions for the not-sleeping thing – her method, which is preferred by someone like me who wants my baby to be able to fall asleep independently but doesn’t want him to cry alone, is called Pick-Up-Put-Down. The trouble with this method is that it’s based on a crying baby. In theory, when E cries, I pick him up, and put him down again as soon as he stops crying, and repeat as necessary. We do this sometimes; however, most of the time E isn’t crying. He’s strumming or rolling.
Ah, well. I guess we’ll figure this out as we go, and do our best for now. Thank goodness for maternity leave.
In other baby news: today, February 16th, there is finally evidence of tooth #3! Teeth #1 and #2 have been waiting almost four months for upper counterparts, and now, at long last, there is a tiny ridge of toothiness on the upper left. Woo hoo, top teeth! Gonna be so cute!
I just hope he doesn’t suddenly remember about nipple-biting. We’ve been doing so well on that.
Most of the hair lies down these days...
Categories: Bébépourri, Photoposts.
I hope all you Ontarians who get Family Day had a great one!
We are one of those families who relishes a good collective feast.
Here’s what we had, to feed fifteen (well, fourteen – one was eating carrot purée instead) lovely people at my sister’s apartment (it was potluck):
Homemade by those in attendance…
Not homemade but still delicious:
Special food on holidays: SO great. Let’s all be inspired and eat food worth eating today!
Categories: Zesty Kitchen.
Lorsque tu seras vieux et que je serai vieille
Lorsque mes cheveux blonds seront des cheveux blancs,
Au mois de mai, dans le jardin qui s’ensoleille,
Nous irons réchauffer nos vieux membres tremblants.
Comme le renouveau mettra nos coeurs en fête,
Nous nous croirons encore de jeunes amoureux;
Et je te sourirai tout en branlant la tête,
Et nous ferons un couple adorable de vieux.
de L’Eternelle Chanson, Rosemonde Gérard
Categories: Foughts and Theelings, Miscelliterature.
Here’s the challenge:
Share a memory you have that links a person and a song in your mind, preferably:
For example:
Here’s a memory I have of the first boy I ever kissed, at age 13, in the summer of 1991. We were an official couple for three days at Camp. I did like him, but mostly I was flattered that he had asked me out (after using a bona fide cheesy pickup line on me). He was a smoothie, and cute, but considerably shorter than I was, so unfortunately when we danced together I could smell his Raiders cap, which was pretty ripe. The song I most remember dancing to with him is “Listen to Your Heart” by Roxette, a song I loved, like, majorly.
(I did listen to my heart, and broke up with him shortly thereafter. You know how it is, I was feeling tied-down… and I guess a little disappointed that French-kissing wasn’t more magical. Guess it helps to have a genuine connection with the person you’re kissing.)
Categories: Humanitrivia, Nostalgiapalooza, Requestions.
… By Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. The GGG book club liked it! Some even loved it.
It’s the story, told through letters post-WWII, of a woman who becomes fascinated by the stories of the German occupation of the island of Guernsey, and goes to the island to learn more. We all found the story interesting, not having known much about Guernsey and not having even realized that it was occupied during the war. Some thought the letter format was gimmicky, some liked it (I was one of the latter).
Some Things I Appreciated in this book:
So, overall: not the most poignant or dramatic or romantic book I’ve ever read, but a gratifying mix of all those elements, especially for such a quick, easy read. Recommended!
Categories: BANG Book Reviews.
Dear E,
Yesterday, you turned eight months old. You’re such a big, strong baby! Can’t believe we’re here already.
You are transitioning out of your evening catnap, as I think I’ve mentioned, and your daytime naps have been shorter this past week. Too much business to get done to waste time sleeping, I guess. But yesterday you celebrated your eight months with an afternoon nap that was well over two hours! Whew.
In the evening, we welcomed to our house for dinner a dear childhood friend of mine (reunited not long ago on Facebook, woot!) and her newlywed husband – our first time meeting him. It was, in short, delightful.
They took to you right away (as basically everyone in your life has done so far), and vice versa. Immediate ingratiating grins all around. You ate your dinner like a pro, showed off your rolling, grabbing, strumming, singing, smiling, etc., and were completely charming. Our friends admired you and played with you, toasted your eight-monthiversary with Guinness, and later likened you to a woodland creature as you frolicked and chirped in your Jolly Jumper. (No catnap, but you never got crabby, just continued being awesome.) ‘Twas great.
Then to top it all off, after all the adventure and entertainment with new people, we got a good night’s sleep! Yay!
Happy eight months, cutie-face. We love you all the way up to the moon… and back.
What a delicious boy.
Categories: Bébépourri, Photoposts.
I saw Peter Jackson’s film adaptation of Alice Sebold’s The Lovely Bones on Saturday night, and wanted to wait a couple days before writing, to distance myself a little bit.
I read this novel, about a young girl who is murdered and watching the world from the “in-between” (I’m not spoiling anything, you find this out in the first few pages/minutes) a couple years ago, and found it fascinating, imaginative, sad, with humourous moments. Some of it was hard to read, but not nearly as hard as the author’s autobiography, Lucky. It didn’t keep me up at night or anything.
The film… is another matter.
First let me state that I am a movie wimp, and I’m okay with it. The last “scary” movie I saw was I Know What You Did Last Summer and after that I swore off of horror and thriller movies. I just do not enjoy the fear of serial killers.
FYI, other movies I’ve seen that I consider scary are: It, Sleeping With the Enemy, Silence of the Lambs, and Scream (I know it was a joke, but I told you, I’m a wimp). Go ahead and laugh at me, but I was even uncomfortable with certain parts of The Sixth Sense. I will never ever watch The Ring or Psycho or The Shining. (War movies, epidemic movies, disaster movies, and creature movies don’t bother me.)
Back to The Lovely Bones. To hear the star, Saoirse (she pronounces it “Sir-sha”) Ronan talking about it, you have the impression that it’s mostly an uplifting movie with lots of funniness. I have to disagree.
Don’t get me wrong, I chuckled quite a few times; I adored the luscious Heaven sequences; my heart was warmed several times; I thought it was well-written and very well acted (by Mark Wahlberg, Rachel Weisz, Rose MacIver, Stanley Tucci – who is Oscar-nominated for this role – and Saoirse Ronan, who was 13 during filming). Wow. Overall, a great movie, if a little over-lingery in certain sections. Director Peter Jackson has done a good job.
However, I was not quite uplifted. I saw a featurette that mentions Peter Jackson’s desire to emphasize the thriller aspect of the story, and I think he has succeeded in this. Which means that I did not sleep well the night I saw the movie. (Thanks, Peter.) I guess for me, the basis of the subject matter is too unfunny to be made up for by the funny parts.
The year I was thirteen, Leslie Mahaffy and Kristen French were abducted, tortured, raped, and murdered by Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka. These girls were barely older than I was, living in cities not unlike mine – and not far from mine, either. The situation of Susie Salmon at the beginning of The Lovely Bones is not some flight of fancy – it happens to real girls, and it’s deeply scary. To be honest, I cannot think of a scarier way to die than at the hands of a psychotic, predatory male human. The moment Susie realizes she’s trapped is so awful – you just pray for things to go differently, even though then there’d be no movie.
So why was the film so much scarier for me than the book? I think there are two main reasons:
SO. To sum up. The Lovely Bones is, IMHO, a great film, really well done. And I’m not sure I ever want to see it again.
Categories: BANG Movie Reviews, Foughts and Theelings, PopCulturalism.
Dear K, as we no longer share a house…
Here’s to beer and coffee, never all gone;
To handmade barbecue stands and wood shelters;
To the infinite uses of a flatbed truck;
To garbage day, all sorted out;
To things mown and shovelled;
To decorative breakfasts even though you don’t eat breakfast;
To countless computer questions answered and wireless hookups created;
To silly songs that used to be hits but now have new wonky lyrics;
To fire bowls and lawn chairs;
And to Christmas trees magically appearing in the living room.
Dear L, for (let’s face it) almost the same reason…
Here’s to delectable nut loaf, gorgeous French onion soup, fantastic crepes and omelettes and roasted veggies;
To fences mended (literally) and yards looking beautiful;
And to songs and movies and recipes and conversations shared.
Dear both of you,
Here’s to ridonculous amounts of love freely given to Nicodemus, Ramona, and especially Munchkin Bum;
And to hundreds of amazing photos of them.
Finally, on behalf of Munchkin Bum,
Thanks for the clicky shiny silver-encrusted fingers, entrancing facial hair, beautiful contagious smiles, and even more love. Thanks for taking care of my parents when they brought me home and really needed it.
Merci. And remember, as always… you’re welcome.
Categories: Foughts and Theelings, Nostalgiapalooza, Zesty Kitchen.
Perhaps y’all are tiring of Baby Bits… but too bad. You’re getting them anyway.
1. Cool trick I figured out today, all by my brilliant self:
Baby is being stubborn, not opening mouth to receive peachy breakfast. Baby is given baby spoon to play with. (Baby is so smart he knows which is mouth end of spoon. By the way.) Why give spoon to baby? Here’s why: when baby goes to put spoon in mouth, Mama goes into ninja-fast mode and gets breakfast-laden spoon in opening first. (It’s like mini-golf, except I seem to be rather better at this.) Haha!! So there, baby. Eat that.
2. In addition to his knowledge of spoon anatomy, E has expanded the use of his index finger. Time was when you would put out your palm and he would touch his whole hand to it, like a high-five. Now, due to cutbacks, he’s not giving out fives; but if you put out your hand, he will graciously give you a high-one.
3. He is also a linguist. Sean asked him, at an opportune moment, if he spoke Russian, and of course he said, “Da.” (Groan… I know, but I had to put it in.)
4. E is a prodigious physicist. He does not crawl, nay. No such plebeian form of locomotion for him. He has a finely-tuned system involving sideways rolling, use of feet against stable objects for propulsion, and pivoting on a fixed point (usually his stomach) by way of a one-legged wounded-lobsteresque technique. He calculates angles and gets where he wants to go, sometimes in multiple stages but with remarkable accuracy. Like a billiard ball, or a navy seal, or something.
Here, in honour of the 10th Bitsiversary, I was going to put a video clip. However, this is not as easy as I thought… and it will have to wait. Please stay tuned.
Annnnnd… a month-and-a-half later, here it is! Hope it works.
Categories: Bébépourri, Videoposts.
Here’s what passes for adult conversation in the baby house:
Sean (pretending to be offended by a good-natured jibe from Auntie Em during our first full game of Settlers since E’s birth): “Shut your pie-hole!”
Em (with faux naïveté): “Ooh, there’s pie?”
Sean (with the subtlest hint of dejection): “Yeah, but it’s in a hole.”
Categories: Humanitrivia, My Hubbibi.
Bedtime was a tough sell tonight.
We are trying to figure out when to phase out the evening catnap, and since E has been resisting his catnap the last couple evenings, we thought maybe he’s telling us he’s done with that. Last night it worked okay, but tonight he just got all over-wiggly. Took quite a while and several different techniques to get some real calm. At one point, as we sat quietly in the dimly-lit living room with Auntie Em, we grown-ups were discussing his cuteness, and how it wasn’t going to work on us, we were unmoved by it. You’re going to bed anyway, mister.
So he looked up, ingenuous, wide-eyed, impossibly adorable, put a tiny index finger to his lips, and made a noise that sounded EXACTLY – and Auntie Em can vouch for this – EXACTLY like “Cute?”
He is pretty charming with that index finger, so delicately and carefully placed. I think I shall never tire of this E.T. bit, where you put out your index finger and E carefully matches his up. That is, he will probably tire of it long before I would.
Leaving me hangin' to flirt with the camera
Leaving me hangin' to look angelic
Finally, I am redeemed
Categories: Bébépourri, Photoposts.
What a lucky mama I am! My baby:
E, mushroom-style
That being said, it must be admitted… I do not win the race for a title. Dooce won hers, but in this house, E has been saying “Dadadaddada” for many of his waking hours the last two days. He doesn’t even make an mmm sound, try as I might to encourage him.
Oh well, I’m not bitter. I get other things. Like when I was away for eight hours (the longest I’ve ever been apart from him) on Saturday and E had fun with Daddy but when I got home, he was visibly excited to see me and got all jiggy with his legs. It was awesome.
Categories: Bébépourri, Photoposts.
