To Do or Not to Do.

There are some things in life that you ARE. and then there are some things that you DO. For example. I am a writer and a talker. Anyone who knows me knows I am a talker. I think its genetic.

After being married to my husband for 3 years I am convinced that I am a writer, because unlike my male counterpart, I love to write. You don't even have to make me do it. I have a journal at my beside to write down all the boring stuff that people wouldn't want to hear me talk about, which by the way is my other talent. 

However, there are things which I DO. I do photography for instance. I have to try really hard to do photography, take classes, learn, study, make mistakes and so on. But I enjoy doing it and will continue to do what is not my first natural instinct of having a mechanical mirror plastered to my face, looking at people like specimens under my scope.

So should I only do what I am. I think not. I am personally horrible at high jump. Even in school when I was in shape and all I couldn't get over a meter when people were watching. And I just got over a meter when they all walked away in bordom of the situation. But I glowed with achievement whenever I got a tiny bit higher. 

I would never reach any major heights or medals in high jump, but I liked it. It was fun!

So the only problem with what I DO is that you can be a writer and talker and still have nothing substantial to add to the world. What am I to talk about? or write about for that matter? If I had your undivided attention...what would I say? 

I think I'd want to make you laugh :)

Packing is Hard Work

 While I was at a cookie exchange there was a man working hard at our house to pack and get ready for moving day. The other man was having "guy time" with grandpa.

Traditional Cookies

Its that time of year again for the annual cookie exchange. When I first joined this family a few years ago I was invited out to exchange cookies, which I later found out was also a nice coffee time with the ladies. Time to catch up. 

My second year I never made it out because I procrastinated and then ran out of water at our home...or was it electricity?...either way I had a pile of dishes and no cookies. So i skipped the event. 

I didn't figure it was a very big deal. Who cares about a cookie klutch, right. But then year after year I was the first to ask...hey when is that exchange coming up? Now with my son I really look forward to it because it means a "mom break" as well. 

This year I made my usual haystacks. I consider these in a catagory along with chocolate chip or other simple cookies of like kind. Usually everyone brings one of these. And then I made peanut butter balls covered with chocolate. A variation of a peanut butter cup! Sweetness! My favourite! This I put into a category of a secondary level of difficulty. Every once in a while one of the ladies will go all out and make a really challenging project. For instance one year my motherinlaw made cookies that looked like little piggy's. Like a creative artistry. 

I didn't have a family that participated in annual events growing up. Half of me is convinced its the dorkiest thing since "Leave it to Beaver" and the other half of me loves being the dork that looks forward to it each year. 

Cookie making time is also a good time to extra condition your hair. Lots of waiting time.  I know. Silly :0)

Corndog

We splurged and bought pogo's. A treat in our home. After a splash of grease on my finger and Tim playing the imaginary drums with two pogos behind me (my hero), I quickly pushed him to the side to get to the sink.
He takes over and we head to the comp. to watch a video. On return this is what we found. The odd part is that it still tasted almost the same, even this black!

midwife

I'm thinking of changing midwives and I'm 7 1/2 month along. Why you may ask. Well, honestly I'm just not comfortable with the one I have. Oh she's nice enough and competent. However, ever since I've walked into her office I've been bombarded with books about 'the power of woman' and how the power we have inside ourselves and how circumcision is cruel and brutal ect... Even my husband isn't a real fan of this one. 

When he asked me months earlier if I was okay with this midwife to bring us through labor at home I said "sure of course!". Because truth be told she is quite capable and knowledgeable on the subject of delivering babies. 

What bothers me is that I don't want to be in the middle of labor telling a woman that I don't agree with her spiritual point of view that "all the power is within us", or "we heal ourselves". Its a load of crap if you ask me! I'm more along the lines of "greater is He who is in me than He who is in the world" or "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me". Reference, the bible.

We differ on hypnotherapy, I don't agree with it. 

She's kept the booklet I'm suppose to bring home with all the medical stuff in it.

When I brought my son in who is a toddler, she didn't even regard him and then commented that girls are not nearly as loud as boys.

Overall she just kinda seems like a feminist. And I, not so much. 

So!at 7 1/2 months pregnant I've decided to change midwives. I may explain to this midwife why I am moving along to a different midwife. I may be a coward and not. Underneath I wonder if I explained this all lets say , in a letter, would it make a difference. Probably not. But then again, feedback in nice to get, even if its not great feedback. I'd have to be gentle on it I suppose.

Here is to hoping I find a new midwife in time. Looking to do a home birth.

New House

We bought our first house. I'm 30 now and I thought I'd be 40 and single by the time I ever got around to wanting to buy a house. At least now maybe I can retire somewhere.
The romantics of buying a house died off about the time we finished looking through the home and started into the process. Nothing says 'kill the mood' like the words 'sign here on the dotted line.' Except for of course unless you are getting married and diving into the perpetual fountain of love that will last a lifetime...hopefully. Other than that, signing papers usually means more work. Hmm, i guess it means that with marriage too. :)

In any case, we finally finalized the deal today and my husband looked more happy than ON his wedding day! little has he realized was that I am cheaper than a house.

Flirtation and Other Notations.

The other night I finally let my hubby know that the way he flirts with me isn't my style anymore. Sure when we were dating I loved it when he looked at me like I was the hottest thing on the market. Like those chicks in coyote ugly had nothing on me. However, as I become more and more pregnant sized, there is something that says, hey the bar scene look and the voluptuous woman in front of you are two different things.
"how then?..."he asks, do you want me to flirt with you?
And you know, I have no idea.
I can picture what I think is sexy but how do you tell your husband what is sexy and not hurt his feelings? Maybe I should write a blog about it and then he'd read it. That may work.
You know who is sexy in his flirtation. Harrison Ford in the Indiana Jones movies. So subtle and not abrupt. A hard to get kind of thing going on.  
I wonder if I could get Tim to be quiet and mysterous and carry a whip?
Or how about ...hmm well i guess that 's all i have in mind at the moment.
So note to Tim. Looking for you to be mature and mysterious and hard to get and then to add some gray to your hair, a whip to your hip and a little danger like boulders and arrows once in a while. That is all.

Wake me if your fevered

Its 5am and I'm up. My son has a fever. Either flu season or the mouth full of chompers he's got coming in. Not sure which or if both.
Its probably true that mom's loose half their sleep as a result of having kids. In the beginning I hated when Caleb would wake me up. I am not a person to be woken in the morning. So to suddenly have this mini adult in our home waking us at all hours was torment for me...and for him too I'm sure.
Does anything prepare you for momhood? Is there a manual which will blast away any of those preexpectant ideas? Having a baby is like the intense version of getting married. Once the first day is over and the honeymoon of a couple sleepless nights passes, you begin to realize that this is for always. This person isn't going anywhere. And the neighbours might think bad of you if you give it away to a passing traveller.
But there is something about it I can't describe. I now love him enough to be up at 5am, checking his temperature because his health is more important than my sleep.

Do I dare even admit to this?

My husband and I have a totally different opinions about personal exposure on blogging. Mostly his view is "don't write about me". Thankfully, this is my own hilarious but embarrassing moment. But what is an embarrassing moment if you can't share it with the entire world?
Last night at 3:30am my son woke up. He's teething a lot and we just moved him to a toddler bed. I found him on the floor beside the bed. Must have fell out. I quickly picked him, got his sippy of water and tried to sooth him by rocking him in the rocking chair.
(Now if you don't know I'm around 7months pregnant which is really important to this story!)
At this time I noticed that I had to go to the bathroom. This is pretty common on prego women in the night; and when you have to go you have to go. It is like you had to go for hours and the driver of the car just passed 3 rest stops on your vacation trip.
Like a flood gate is on the verge of bursting and only a little stick man in holding up the blockage. It is a desperate time when a pregnant woman has to pee. And believe me, how much I love my hubby I have nearly thrown him out of the way if he stands between me and the bathroom at such a moment.
So there I was. 3:30am, sleepy, crying/sniffaly baby/toddler in my arms, rocking like a great ship at sea on that rocking chair just trying to move enough so the urge would pass. But there was no luck. And my toddler wasn't about to sleep with the rave rocking going on.
I thought about just putting him to bed quick and running downstairs but I knew he'd cry. I thought, "fine, I'll take him with me!" but as I looked over my shoulder at the door I noticed the baby gate was up. Groan. Frankly by this point there was no way I could ever lift my leg to get over that gate. There would be the puddle of the century at his door.
I scratched franticlly for ideas as I thought I may be soon washing the rocking chair sitting pillow in the morning.
And then!
As if a light from heaven shone down to save me from the impending call of nature! There it was! A Royal Pottie!
Beaming through the darkness like a lighthouse on the shore of a raging sea. I was saved!
sigh

I don't think I need to include too much detail here as many of you could imagine what happend from here on out.

What I will tell you is that there was no greater fear in me (and laughter) at that moment than the thought that Tim might wake up, hear the "royal tune" that that blessed pottie makes and come down the hall to a sight I don't think I would ever live down.