16 Month Old Child + 5 Bites of Candy =

A Seriously Spun Cherry Tomato

**the following photos were taken pre chocolate**

It was like a dog at a dinner party. You know, dog barfs at the end of the night, but everyone claims they didn't give him anything to eat. I gave Miles one bite of chocolate, I then asked if anyone else had given Miles chocolate, everyone says "NO", so I gave him two more bites. Well...by 7pm Miles was SPUN. He was running around the house, laughing hysterically, talking super fast, playing with every toy, running laps around the coffee table, chasing the dog...I mean it was insanity. He did everything but barf.

Everyone was laughing their asses off...it was funny, but I have to admit, I was afraid. Afraid of what the night was going to hold for me. Well, surprisingly he slept the ENTIRE night. Probably tired the shit out of himself.

All candy was hidden today...that kids just like his mom..loves Peanut Butter Cups.

Thirteen Reasons Why I Am Who I Am

**NOTE: Please keep in mind, not all photos of friends could be included as most are incriminating in some way shape or form . Also, "Reasons" are in no particular order as I have issues downloading pictures on to Blogger. Issues I'd rather NOT discuss.**

**Disclaimer: I am who I am. Sorry if you are a part of it and don't want to be. I have a lovely mind, but a filthy mouth. I am very kind and caring, but can be far too honest for my own good (see profile). Yes there are more than thirteen reasons why I am who I am, but that would just take too long, and besides, it's 13 thursday, not 300001 thursday.**

Reason #1: My Parents

Reason #2: Mother Nature


Reason #3: Care Bare Rollerskates


Reason #4: Dave


Reason #5: Words

Reason #6: Miles


Reason #7: My Friends (highschool photo)
Reason #8: My Zodiac Sign
Reason #9 Field, B.C.

Reason #10 Chocolate (mmmm)

Reason #11: Bob Dylan

Reason #12: Pink Floyd

Reason #13: Basically Everything on THIS Website

Wordless Wednesday

Mr. Potato Head strikes again

Thirteen Reasons Why Being a Mom Is Like a Smoker who Rides a Bike

Thursday thirteen's? What the F? Well ask any serious blogger what that means and they know. It's Thursday, and you make a list of thirteen things (DUH). Whatever topic you want really. Thirteen. No more. No less. And well, being the oh so serious blogger that I am, I've decided to give it a whirl. Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

**IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER....and definitely not always referring to myself**

1. Power Lungs:
Riding a bike and smoking requires amazing lung capacity. I've witnessed this act of aerobic lunacy with my own eyes. It pales in comparison to the lungs an enervated mother needs to sing "Old McDonald Had a Farm" for the five millionth time that day.

2. Boldness:
Riding a bike and smoking requires the rider to look beyond the stupefied eyes that stare at the sheer idiocy of events being performed on two wheels. This pales in comparison to the mother who dances foolishly around grocery carts to avoid "the moment of no turning back" much to the annoyance of hurried shoppers. The mother who sings made up songs on street corners as highschool children point and laugh. The mother who wrestles their children publicly just to put on a shoe.

3. Multi-tasking:
Riding a bike and smoking requires...Well...Basically doing two things at once. Although I have observed these said smoking wonders on wheels riding with both hands on the handle, and smoke dangling out of mouth....Simply breathtaking. It still pales in comparison to the mother who can clean and entire room with her toes clenching open and closed because company is coming over that night, and baby has chosen that particular day as the day they need to be held....By mom only...The entire day.

4. Appearance:
Foolishly, the individual riding a bike and smoking is the only person who thinks they look cool. More importantly, this person cares not if anyone thinks they look cool. A sort of "fuck society" if you will. This pales in comparison to the lactating mother walking boldly down the street with two perfectly circular wet marks on her shirt where her breasts are. Pales in comparison to the mother who has been reduced to chapstick being the most make-up she will ever put on for years. Pales in comparison to the mother who's only shopping excitement is getting a new pair of yoga pants to replace the ones she wore when she was 8 months pregnant. Not to mention the fact that their sleeve has become a snot rag, for their child and all of their child's friends.....difference...These mothers don't think they look cool...Looking cool takes too long....Similarity, a sort of "fuck society" if you will attitude about their appearance. I'm a stay at home mom, and the only person I need to impress today is this child who could give two craps about how I look right now....That is until the husband comes home.

5. Selfishness:
Riding a bike and smoking is pure selfishness. Check the outside of any bar...Smokers group....They huddle....They stink up the air in one location. The riding smoker distributes the cigarette smoke evenly throughout the entire neighbourhood, although never actually done myself, I don't know how much ground you can cover in the duration of an entire smoke. I've walked behind a biking smoker though...nuf said. Pales in comparison to the mother who's child has made a "stinky" and won't/can't change it because....well...They just don't feel like it.

6. Need For Speed:
Riding a bike and smoking must be a thrill ride. Traveling at their speed of choice, all the while inhaling that sweet nicotine. Pales in comparison to the ex-smoker mom avec jogging stroller who runs the dog, baby and herself all the while singing Dora the Explorer for 6 kilometers. Stopping only to pick up dog shit. Sweet.

7. Solidarity:
The smoking cyclist rides alone....though they may beg to differ that this is all part of the "cool factor". The stay at home mom, even if she has other mommy friends, spends a lot of time talking to a child, and when the child is asleep...Alone. Though time spent not smoking, mother indulges in laundry, dishes, sweeping...Oh and blogging....way cooler than smoking and riding a bike...I guess.

8. Branding:
The bicycling smoker finds it imperative to have not only the trashiest (which is cool...Just look at K-Fed) bike to ride, clothes to wear and the strongest cigarettes to smoke for full effect. Cigarettes must be displayed on sleeve. Once again pales in comparison the fashionable mother who walks her child in only the coolest brand name stroller, all name brand clothing, and keeps those silly tags on her diaper bag....She pales in comparison to the mother who has a steal of a stroller found on e-bay, wearing all clothing found in Value Village (score), goes to the library to get books, and carries the Value Village bag around to pick up dog shit with.

9. Fearlessness:
The helmetless, smoking cyclist has no fear as he cruises cool handedly through stop signs. No comparison to the mother who boldly walks from street corner to street corner expecting everyone to stop for her and her infant passenger.

10. Honesty:
The smoking cyclist is clearly not afraid to let everyone know, "Hey, I ride a bike and I smoke....eff you". Can't hold a candle to, "Hey, my son is teething right now. I had friends over on the weekend and stayed up far too late for the 5:45 wake up call. I'll look like this if I goddamn want to...eff you".

11. Nature Lover:
The smoking cyclist is making a statement while tooting around on their bicycle. I love the outdoors...I'd rather ride a bike and smoke than sit on my couch and watch Who Wants to be a Millionaire and smoke. Similar to mom who'd rather spend all her time away from home than look at the mess she will have to attend to later. Library = mess somewhere else. Play Group = Mess somewhere else. Stroller walk = No mess....Ahhh.

12. Heart Attack Waiting to Happen
The smoking cyclist...well...It goes without saying..They are quite literally a heart attack waiting to happen. While a new mom practically has a heart attack over everything that "happens"....to baby.

13. Talent:
Riding a bike and smoking is an exercise of extremes. Quite frankly, so is being a mom.

My Darling Little Sponge

I can't see a difference. Can you see a difference?

We've finally reached the stage where our little fun machine is repeating EVERYTHING we say. His version of our words are granted a bit different, but none the less repeated. Example: Clearing out the dishwasher...wine glass breaks...mom says "shit".... Miles says "hit"...Mom says "ah man" (as is ah man this kid is repeating EVERYTHING I say...Miles says "ahh man" (like Cheech or Chong might say after having smoke a big fatty). Lesson: Swear words are out.

Is there fun in this? Of course...As long as you watch what you say. Picking the most absurd words for Miles to repeat is always fun. Even the easiest of words is fun to hear him repeat. Apple = Apple. Apple Juice = Appy Jew hmm. Chew = Chew. However Chewy (as in our dog) = Cookie.

As of today though, our favorite words are "NO" and "YEAH". Example: Everything does not have to be a yes or no question. Do you want to take a nap? "NO". Well of course you fool, why would he want to take a nap? Next try...."In 5 minutes we are going to have a nap" "NO". Lesson: Shit, it doesn't work either way.

What it comes down to is that I still don't know what the hell I'm doing. I'm basically winging it, and I think I'm doing a pretty good job. So what if the kid said shit....he brushes his damn teeth!The only problem is that I don't know what this kid knows anymore. Words fly out of his mouth that I don't even think I taught him. LESSON: This kid is sort of like Santa Clause. .......He knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.


I can't see a difference. Can you see the difference?

Yes We Are Alive!

Before you all start to lecture me about my blogger neglect please take into consideration that we've just picked up our entire lives and plopped them into a new city. We just bought a house (which I love, especially the yard), and even though we've been in it a few weeks, I'm still among boxes, wires, and torn up carpet. Thanks to Mike, we do finally have a new front porch though!

It's not as easy as one might think to blog, unpack, cook, have time for yourself, and look for a job with a walking, talking, 15 month old fun machine always at your side either. Once I find my camera cable...wherever the hell that is...I'll post some new pics of the house and my darling little monster.

It's hard to think about everything I want to blog about when it's been nearly two months since I've made a post. So I will end this post here and come back with a doozie tomorrow. I know, I know....give it a rest Lala.

To all my faithful readers, thanks for waiting for me. I promise a good laugh tomorrow. Right now I have to deal with the bomb that has gone off in my living room.

Where Have I Been?

Okay, things have been a bit crazy on this end, and well, come the end of the night, I'm too tired to blog.

So, let's do this point form.

• Miles is now walking like a mad man. "Gotta Go" is his favorite saying, so needles to say I"m always going, and I have no choice, I gotta.
• I got stung on my foot by a beet at the park. I stepped on it. It hurt like hell. Foot swelled, ankle swelled. Couldn't walk for a day.
• Dave got a new job.
• A new job in another city.
• We are moving.
• We can finally buy a house.
• We are packing.
• We are looking for a new house to buy.
• We are BUSY.

So if anyone has been wondering where I, or my head has been...That's where. Well that and it's summer, and I'm enjoying it.

So on the aside...I have a cold sore. Shit. I've never had a cold sore in my entire life....PISSED. I always looked at people with cold sores and thought, "Poor guy/girl, that must suck". Well now I can tell you first hand how much it sucks. First off I can't kiss Miles or Dave. You don't realize how much you kiss your family until you can't kiss them anymore. Secondly, the stares...ooooo the stares. I don't have a fucking disease...Just herpes. SHIT I HAVE HERPES. God couldn't they have come up with something nicer sounding? I'm going to now refer to this nastiness on my lip as a sun blister. Brought on by stress, menstruation, and uh...Poor diet? People will fall for that. Yeah. Yeah. This sun blister better get the hell off my lip soon, I got a wedding to go to in a few weeks. I hear these things can last a month. Again with the PISSED, and the shit, shit, shit, I hate sun blisters.

I'll try my best to continue blogging though moving insanity. I really will. After all, with our history of moving and all that it has to offer, this one should generate a few good laughs...and this time we have a kid! I'll also try my best to write a few more chapters to my previous postings.

Friendship After Baby: Chapter One. What To Expect....The Reality

Grade 12.

What a wonderful year.

Another year of under age drinking...And other sorts of experimentation. A year of amazing camping trips, sleepovers, naked runs, and bush parties. The year most of my closest friends were made.

It was not like grade 9 where you searched through endless faces for people you could call friends. Spending time with people you would rather not because for some reason or another, they were cool.

By grade 12 I had my group of friends established, both male and female. I consider myself lucky for having met such amazing individuals at such a young age. Friends I still have today. Of course I've meet new friends along they way, amazing friends, but my friends from highschool are still some of my most cherished friends. Some people don't even remember the friends they had in highschool, lost contact, moved apart, or so and so cheated on me with so and so, so I don't like so and so anymore.

The girls and The guys. 10 girls. 7 guys. That is how we refer to one another. "The girls are going out tonight", "Some of the guys will be there". Our group of friends, as beautiful as we are, are not without our faults. Some of us, for one reason or another don't talk as much, but through one another we still always know how we are each doing. Despite our issues, we always ask how each other is doing.

We aren't some freaky clique of people. We are quite kind to most people, and always welcome new friends, we always did. We are all unique, we always were. I'm not going to say we were popular, because we went to a school where not too much of that existed. "

I am one of "the girls". Dave is one of "the guys" (by they way, the first picture is of Dave in a sexy red suit for prom) . I'm lucky that way. I have the best of both worlds, though I'm sure some of "the girls" would beg to differ.

2005 Enters Beautiful Baby Miles

I'm 31 now. I'm married. I have a baby. I have many new and wonderful friends, along with the ones I had in highschool. Quite a few of my friends are married, but only two have children. Both of which live far away.

What I Imagined After Baby

I would deliver a wonderful child, all our friends would be around us, supporting us, laughing with us and creating memories with us. Friends would visit often, friends understand.

What Really Happened

I delivered a wonderful, precious, beautiful baby boy. The friends that were able to be there, were there (see first post), supporting us, laughing with us, and creating memories with us. Many friends didn't visit often. Many friends didn't understand. I felt like a stranger among my friends.

When Miles first arrived there was a slew of visitors to greet precious Miles into this world. Friends to tell our birth story to. Then, days and nights became one. Sleeping when I had the chance to, nursing, cuddling, loving Miles and Dave. Days passed. Friends called less, and calling friends became difficult, laborious sometimes. I was never sure how much they wanted to hear about Miles (because surely I could talk for hours) so I often asked of what filled their days and I listened. And when is a good time to call?

I had imagined I would see them more. I often felt left out. Saturday night would arrive and I wouldn't get invited out. Not that I was going to go. I was happy to stay with my new family. Though an invitation would have been nice from time to time. I know most of my friends didn't ask because they thought it would be rude to, because I wouldn't be able to go anyways. This is was a difficult time for me. I've always been quite social. Close with my friends. Talking every day to many of them. About people we saw on the street or the bus, or an act of kindness, or a thing of beauty. Now my life was Miles. Miles and Dave. Walks in the park. Nursing. Bad daytime television. Nursing. Sleeping. Not sleeping. My life was baby. I felt alone. No friends near me to relate to these changes. No one to understand the isolation I felt when Dave was at work.

One Year Later

My friendships are a lot easier now that Miles is older. I can go out. I'm no longer a slave to the boob. Many of my friendships on a social level have been rekindled, not that they were ever lost. Contact was simply less frequent with many of them. Many of these friendships however, exist outside of me being a parent (Don't get me wrong, they get their earfull about Miles).

I miss that many of them don't get to see Miles on a regular basis as I had imagined they would. I envisioned Miles would know all my friends names before he could walk. That he would smile from ear to ear when they arrived (ok he smiles regardless). That they would know first hand all of his quirks and his character. I do have friends who go the extra distance to spend time with the little guy, and who want to hear what new things he's doing when they aren't around. Friends Miles knows and loves. Friends who know exactly how I feel about my friendships and how sad I have been over them. So I wasn't totally alone.

So when did I get to be the centre of the universe anyways?

I realize that my friends have lives too. That Miles goes to bed before many of them get home from work and have dinner. That weekends are often full of activities, especially during the summer. I've spent a lot of time thinking about my friendships and how selfish we all are when it comes to friendship. I am as much to blame, for when a close friend of mine had a baby I didn't reach out as much as I should have. She lives far away, but now that I know what I know. I realize I could have been a better friend.

I know many of my friends plan on having children. I hope that none of them experience these feelings I've had about friendships since I've had Miles. I know how lonely it can be, so I intend to reach out.

No one told me that having a baby would put such a strain on my friendships. No one told me it was going to be so hard to be one of the first among friends to have a baby. No one told me.

What To Expect....The Reality. The Unwritten Book For Expecting Parents.

Sometimes I disappear. But I'm not gone. Just thinking. Playing. Laughing. Reading. Running. It's summer and I'm enjoying it.

I read a lot of pre pregnancy books while I was pregnant. I even read them before I was pregnant. Through the writings of midwives, doctors, and mothers, I came to expect pain and joy. There were books that told me how much weight I was supposed to gain (liars), books that told me how our baby was growing, when to expect kicks, when to expect aches, and how difficult it might be to breastfeed. This list of knowledge (unwanted or not) is endless. I don't claim to be an expert, and don't understand anyone who does, except the biology of it all of course.

There are things however that I have experienced that were never written about. Important things. Things that I would have appreciated having some understanding before they happened. Perhaps it's just a part of parenthood, and this knowledge comes with the package. Some may argue that I am compulsive when it comes to being prepared (though now I have a baby, they can no longer argue that point). There are however a few things I would have appreciated time to understand.

During my pregnancy I can't begin to tell you the number of times I heard, "Having a baby will change everything". Well, no shit. I thought things would be exactly the same as they were. Needless to say, OF COURSE there is truth in this. Go Figure.

So I guess it is the everything that I would l would like to explore. What is everything that changes, and what do I wish I knew before I had a baby that would have better prepared me?

• How much more I would fall in love with Dave.
• How much unwanted advice I was going to get and how to deal with it.
• How having a baby would affect my friendships.
• How I see my parents in a new light.
• What about me?
• Time.
• Appreciation.
• How upsetting weaning would be.
• ..........Well, basically EVERYTHING I guess. HA!

Over the next few days, I am going to take some of the everything that I have found have had the most impact on me write about them. Why? I don't know. I feel like it.

A New Tradition?

Some people need coffee in the morning to wake up and some people need to take a shower. Others can get along fine without either. My dad needs the newspaper. Let's discuss to what extent.

The year...hmm...Somewhere between 1983 - 1985. I can't exactly remember. I was young, that's all I remember.

It was morning. It was dark. The sky was ominously green. Pea soup green. Like a tornado is going to strike down anytime soon green. The thunder was loud. Rock concert loud. Standing beside a speaker at a rock concert loud. The lightening was fierce. Step off your porch and I'll strike your ass down fierce. For all storm lovers (my family included) it was beautiful. Watch from the porch beautiful, not dance in the streets barefoot because it's just so beautiful beautiful (that's only reserved for showers, not tornadoes). We used to get our chairs out on the porch, blankets if necessary, and watch the storm.

The car, a Voltswagon Thing. It looked just like the cars below, only it was yellow. Sunshine yellow. Please note: Canvas roof (totally practical). Plastic windows (you had to unzip them to open them). The passenger window on our was ripped, and held together with duct tape (along with many other things in that car).

Instead of asking if I wanted to join the family on the porch and watch a seriously wicked storm, my dad looked at me and said, "Heather, we're going to get the paper". I don't think I had a choice in the matter. I know it seemed ridiculous at the time, but I also know I wasn't scared.

I remember my mom running out to the car trying to stop us. I can't remember what she said, but it was likely somewhere along the lines of, "Are you fucking crazy Tony? Do you really need a paper that bad. Can't you just wait?". I imagine my dad's response was something along the lines of, "Don't worry, we'll be quick. I'll keep the car running, and Heather can run in and get it" (UM...WHAT?)

Driving away I could see my mother. Well, a sort of warped version of her, because when you look through plastic windows covered with rain, things are just not as clear as they should be (a little safety feature courtesy of VW). That and the duct tape was blocking my view. She was clearly pissed (though I believe she was secretly happy that she would soon have the crossword in her hands).

Crazy drive to the store. Windy, low visibility, flooding in the streets, branches falling, thunder that shook your body to the core, rain pouring hard, rain pouring through the holes in the plastic windows, me holding the door closed because sometimes it just didn't want to shut.

Shortly after (in my dads defense, the store wasn't that far), we arrived at Beckers (I still miss Beckers chocolate milk...Straight from the jug). I ran out, now it was hailing...Large balls of hail...Dent the car large (lucky me). I have to admit, it was exciting.

I grabbed the paper and proceeded to the counter. The store clerk looked at me like, you are too young to be reading the paper, and clearly if you do read the paper, what kind of parents let you out in this weather. It was that moment that I saw the clerk look out the store window, see my father (more likely the bright yellow car), waved (yeah like he can see you) and looked at me and said, "Is that your dad? Nice guy. Crazy, but nice." Crazy but nice. "Yup, that's my dad".

Another crazy drive home.

We arrive back home. I can't remember how pissed my mother was, if she was at all. I'm sure she got over it as soon as she got her crossword, and discussed the foolishness of our actions with the family on the porch (watching the storm of course)....Wait...I'm not taking the blame for that...We were discussing the foolishness of dads actions.

Since Miles was born, we have watched many storms go by on our porch (I'm so lucky to have a husband that loves storms as much as I do). Now that Miles is older, he sees and points out the lightening, and he gets so excited, just like his parents. I hope to watch many storms, wicked storms, fierce storms, thunder storms, lightening storms with my family. And if Miles is lucky..I just may take him to the store in the middle of a tornado to buy a news paper. Perhaps I'll make it a tradition.

IT.

Yes folks, there is another world out there. A world of "mommy bloggers" (rumor has it there are "daddy bloggers" too). Yes, it is scary, but as a mommy...And well, a "mommy blogger", I must admit, there are a few mommy bloggers I love and visit often (they make me laugh). There are even a few mommy bloggers that I don't love (they make me angry), but visit anyways...WHY? Cause it makes me feel better.

In this world of mommy madness a game of tag is being played. The Misadventures of (Mommy) Laural (she's one of the good ones...Really she is) has been so kind enough to tag me **hint of sarcasm (I dislike tag, never liked it on the playground...Always running around aimlessly, chasing the almighty untaggable.**. Kind enough to make me realize that five is a very difficult number (though it does make for an easy post). I know it's not your fault Laural, you are merely playing the game....As will I. I think it's bad luck or something to not continue the game, like something really bad happens, like you lose a toe or something.

NOTE: "My" has been changed to "My/Our"...If you think I'm taking all the blame you've got another thing coming.

5 Things in My/Our Refrigerator:

**See Previous Post**

5 Things in My/Our Closet:

1. Three Bags of nice clothing that hopefully someday soon will fit again (No comments from the peanut gallery please...I am well aware that Miles is one now) .
2. Underwear (Type: Granny...ahh the comfort....The sexy ones are in the bag of clothing that no longer fit) .
3. Dave's underwear (even the ones with holes...Just incase he runs out of the other 30 good pairs he has) .
4. Socks (Same deal as number 3. You can't reach into the sock pile without finding at least three pairs you refuse to wear because they have holes....You can't argue with him on this one....Really....What if we run out of good socks?....I'd rather go barefoot) .
5. A pillow that Miles peed on.

5 Things in My Handbag:

**I don't have a handbag. I have an immensely large and extremely ugly pink wallet with hearts. It cost me ten dollars. I shove all my crap in the stroller...Which is basically my wallet. I'm a no make up, no fuss kinda gal.

5 Things in My/Our Car:

1. Lots of music .
2. Pop cans that Dave has shoved under the seat because he thinks I won't know they are there. 3. A Baby on Board sign. Speaking of which, Baby on Board signs work to your advantage, but also against....Yes other drivers back off (a bit) when you are driving, BUT when you are driving on your own, without baby, speeding and listening to music full blast (because you can't when baby is in the car....ahh Such freedom), people look at you like you are an awful person for driving like a crazy person because they think you have a baby in the car.
4. A plaid sheet (seriously but ugly) that we put up in the back seat because we think it prevents dog hair from getting everywhere....Yeah right.
5. SHIT LOADS OF DOG HAIR .

Now the way the game goes, is that I tag someone (it should be five people, but I don't know five bloggers personally). So, sorry to those of you I've tagged before (yes I have played before...again with the fear of losing toes), but Emily, Tawny, Anna Lee and hrm....Well I think that's it. You are IT.

Gratuitous Baby Photo

*Read sign*

Reality In My Fridge, 7 Months Later

**Click to view**
Reality In My Fridge Part One

This evening after I put Miles to sleep I decided that I needed a beer. That's when it hit me. My fridge, just as it was seven months ago, is still very telling of my/our reality.

There are a few differences

1. NO! It's not the same beer, infact it has been replaced many times (company, and a few good nights, we aren't alcoholics.....Yet....We are saving that for retirement...Kidding...Jesus . YES! It is still demoted to the bottom of the fridge door.

2. Never has a jug of Homo milk graced my fridge before. Now a new one is there every few days. I admit...It makes my coffee so much more yummy.

3. Not since I lived in Field B.C. have I seen such chaos in a fridge (I had six roommates then). Note that the beer has it's own special place in the fridge. Is this still considered and demotion if it has it's own home in the fridge door? Seems to me, it says, we care Alexander Keith...And until I get pregnant again. I will visit you. Not as often as I used to, but I will visit.

And some things never change

1. We still like orange juice.

2. Apparently we don't like the sweet chili sauce that is located on the top shelf in the door. Mental note, throw away before next reality In My Fridge Blog

3. Actually if you look at both pictures, a lot doesn't change...It just gets moved around. Mental note, clean fridge.

**Go ahead, laugh. But I bet if you took a picture of your fridge and looked at it in seven months, you'd get a pretty good idea of your reality too!**

Baby Park

I have always hated "dog park". We have always avoided taking Chewy to dog park, though sometimes Dog Park happens when you least expect it, and all of a sudden you are in Dog Park. Dog park freaks the shit out of me.

Definition of Dog Park: Any random park that often lazy, freakish individuals (we will herein refer to them as Dog Parkers) take their dogs to play with other dogs who have similar owners. Dog park is never "organized" per say, although everyone "conveniently" shows up at the same time, morning and night. Hmmm.

Why do I hate dog park? Well.....

1. It really bothers me that people don't take their dogs for a walk. Instead of exercising their "four footed best friend" they take their dogs to Dog Park where fifteen other dogs and Dog Parkers gather. These dogs basically stay around their owners (who are chatting mindlessly and endless about meaningless crap) sniff each others asses, watch each other crap, and have pissing competitions. Rarely will a Dog Parker throw a ball for Spot, play with FooFoo, or even pet them for that matter. Half the time the lazy ass Dog Parkers drive to the park. What the?

2. Dog Parkers never refer to one another by first name. Instead they refer to one another as insert dog name here's owner. I found myself in dog park once, or should I say it found me. The Dog Parker struck up a conversation with me, I said "My name is Heather" (shit why did I say that?). They said "I'm Sallies owner". Looks like Sally wasn't the only bitch in the park.

3. Conversation between Dog Parkers consist of a) Breed of dog? b) How old is dog? c) My dog does this...My dog does that...My dog does the other thing. Good For You and Your Dog.

4. All Dog Parkers think their dogs love Dog Park. In actuality, their dogs would rather be in a hike in the forest, cruising the neighbourhood pissing on every post, tree and garden or chasing a ball thrown clear across the park by their owner.

Dog Park Pisses Me Off

**CUT TO PLAYGROUND**

Pushing Miles on the swing.

Look to left, empty swing.

Look to right, another parent pushing their child.

Conversation begins a) How old is she?...Oops its a he. b) What is baby's name?...Never introducing themselves, just offering baby's name. c) My baby can do this...My baby can do that...May baby does the other thing.

I believe there are many amazing parents and families can be met in the playground (yes potential future best friends for Miles, so I best be on my best behaviour), but is my playground turning into some warped version of Dog Park?

Ok Baby Park is way better than Dog Park...like a million times better... than Dog Park, but I still think it's weird.

BABY PARK:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MILES

There are things that make me laugh, nothing things, not necessarily laugh out loud things, not necessarily always funny, more along the absurd or just plain stupid, but I laugh. Inside. At it all. Things like people who won't give up their seats on the subway for the pregnant or elderly you know they are secretly asking themselves, "Is she really pregnant or just fat?" and "How old is too old to stand on the subway?", old men that randomly fart and know they can get away with it just because they are old (apparenlty that either means they don't know any better, or the poor dears just lack the control), my neighbours (long story)......Stupid shit really.

There is drunken, induced, uncontrollable laughter. When it's really not funny, but hell yes, it really is.

This could get out of control so I'll stop. Lets just say...I LAUGH...A LOT...Thank You Very Much. I have enjoyed amazing friendships in my life, I have laughed immensely at myself, by myself and with people I love.

Nothing in my life has brought me such happiness and laughter as this little beauty right here....













Doesn't it just bring tears to your eyes?

On June 10th Miles turned one. It's hard to believe that THIS (click for story of Miles' birth) is what was going on in my life on June 10th one year ago. Major surgery never seemed more worth it.

On Miles' birthday we had a party at my parents house. Good friends and family, cake, presents, a bocci tournament and lots of food. Miles had a great time. He was of course clueless to the fact that it was a very special day for him (and us). A day that when he gets a bit older will be celebrated by overdosing on cake and ice cream. A day he will fall asleep hugging his favorite new truck. A day that when he gets way older he will celebrate by drinking alcohol and dancing. A day that when he gets way way older he will celebrate with his new family and old friends from highschool. A day that when he gets way way way older he might wish he wasn't celebrating another year at all.

It was nice to have people we love around us to celebrate the most amazing, wonderful, intense, and interesting year of our life with. So thank you for everyone who came, it truly meant a lot to us.

Two cakes. One for us....one for Miles (and Bo). At this point in the game Miles was tired, that is until fistfulls of orange and black frosting entered his system. Below you see a smiling Miles loving the fact that everyone is singing to him. He then tentatively approaches his cake

Enter BO

Following Bo's lead, the cake is destroyed and both are covered in a sugary mess. IT WAS LOVELY!

Below are some photos of the bocci tournament (congrats to the winners Michelle and Rob...It was a heated battle...Jody and Mike will eventually recover from that amazing come back victory. It seems as if alcohol really does get you places Michelle!) and some shots of the party.
















oh and one more thing............

Doesn't Dean look Hot? It was his birthday too...Poor guy had to share his special day with a one year old. He drank himself silly later that evening (so difficult to share, that lime light). He wore a flashy pin that said "Look who's turning 30" to make himself feel better.....well that and about 30 beers. It's a miracle he didn't fall into the marina on a smoke break.

Looking forward to many more years of laughter. Thank you Miles for coming into our lives, it has been amazing.

That's It. I'm Stapling The Keys To My Thigh.

Miles and I recently had our first road trip together. No dad, just the two of us. Miles slept almost the entire way there. He was the best travel buddy ever. Didn't mind my singing or my music. Didn't mind that when I recited his favorite books for memory, that the book was not present. Didn't mind still facing the back of the vehicle with no one there to keep him company.

The way home was a different story.

For starters I decided to wear my contacts so that I could wear sun glasses....This was bad decision #1. I left without eating breakfast,having had numerous cups of coffee and no bathroom break....Bad decision #'s 2,3&4. We left for Miles' first nap so that he could get some good sleeping in while I drove. The roads were not too busy but the wind was killer, and the sun was half way between being not too bright, but bright enough that I needed sunglasses. Miles slept. While I drove, I contemplated my sheer genius for remembering to wear my contacts so that I could wear my sunglasses. I contemplated how brilliant I was that I remembered to put a good CD in the player before I left (instead of waiting till I started to drive). Then I acknowledged my stupidity for not eating, and drinking way too much coffee for my own good (for those of you who don't know me, when I am not pregnant I pee like I am...Now imagine me pregnant). I knew this was going to result in an early rest stop.

By the time we hit the Ingersol rest stop (going east bound) my contacts were feeling like shriveled up prunes (recontemplated my genius) and my eyes were killing me,I was starving, and I had to pee like a mo-fo....Yet still wanted another coffee (oooo and it was a Timmy Ho's stop too!). Pulling over to stop. I decided that since I was going to have to wake Miles to participate in this whole ordeal that I might as well give him a snack as well. So I did. In the serious wind, rain (oh yes, it's raining now) and cold. I remember everything for Miles but nothing for myself. I don't care. I'm cold and I'll figure it out later.

We get inside. I go to the bathroom. Speaking of which. How are you supposed to take a piss (change a tampon) wipe and wash your hands with a baby all by yourself? It's a public bathroom, I can't put him on the floor, he's freaking cause it stinks like a public bathroom and I'm no where near giving him the well deserved attention the he so feels he deserves. Hold him? Force him to stand and hold himself up? If anyone has that figured out, let me know. Poor kid, way more exposed to things he need not be. I change his diaper, and leave to feed him his snack.

mmmmm...Miles has his snack.

No food or coffee for me (forgot my wallet in the car), can't change my contacts (forgot all my stuff in the car). Guess we are done at the rest stop, leaving me to change my contacts in the car. Still raining, still windy, still cold. Make it to the car. Put Miles in the passenger seat while I change my contacts beside him. Don't want to put him in his car seat longer than necessary. He freaks if he's in the car seat and the car is not moving. Don't blame him, that seat looks so deceiving. Cushiony yet strappy and restraining all at the same time.

Contacts are out, glasses on.

I reach for the back door and unlock the lock (yes manual locks). I lock passenger door. Put Miles in his car seat. Lock door. Go to get into drivers seat. Door locked. No keys in pocket. No fucking keys in my pocket!!! Look to passenger seat. Keys sitting on seat.

Baby locked in car.

Shit Shit Shit. First reaction was to run from door to door trying to open them. I did that three times. My second reaction was to kick in the window, but decided that may not be the best option a)it would be a cold, wet drive home and b)it would likely scare the crap out of Miles.

I look to a man getting in his car beside mine and said "Oh my god, I just locked my baby in my car". He looks at me and said "Really?" Then shut his door and pulled away. To him I send out a great big virtual FUCK YOU! I looked at Miles. Not yet crying, but trying to figure out what the hell it is I'm doing....why isn't she getting in? Why is she staring at me? Lets get this show on the road. I look up and see a woman and a man carrying a small child. They will help, I know it. I ask them please to help me and the man pulled out his phone and was dialing roadside assistance like he was a pro. The woman took baby inside. I don't blame her...Cold, raining, wind, yadda yadda yadda. The man had someone coming to help me in less than 15 minutes. I just wanted to hug him, but he looked like the type that wouldn't appreciate a hug from some stranger. Hugged him anyways. I really was thankful for his help. He just looked cold and wet.

I spent the next fifteen minutes trying to entertain Miles with a plastic cow I happened to have in my pocket, as well as various versions of peek a boo through three windows. I'm sure people thought I was a mixture of a lunatic and the worlds worst mother. Miles only cried once, with thanks to strangers that helped to entertain here and there. He always loves people and new faces. Some even got him to laugh. Thank you. It seemed like an eternity, but 15 minutes later the tow truck showed up, and in all of about 30 seconds my door was unlocked.

GREAT BIG SIGH OF RELIEF

He took one look at Miles and said, "Why couldn't your kid just unlock the door?". "He's not even a year old" I said. I mean I'd like to think he's a genius, but I know for certain he can't open a lock on command.

So completely guilt ridden I took Miles out of the car seat. Hugged him and played with him for an hour before we got in the car and drove home. Miles slept the entire way, clueless that his mommy just locked him in the car.

I only cried once.

When I got home and saw Dave I gave him a huge hug and embarassingly told him what happened. Of course my version of the story was way too drawn out for him, and he's made fun of me numerous times since. One of my friends told me that you aren't officially a mother until you lock your kid in the car at least once. I felt better for a second, then felt bad again.

I will NEVER lock Miles in the car again...Unless he locks himself in (which is highly likely).

That's it.

I'm stapling the keys to my thigh.

Ode To The Belly That Was

In less than a month Miles will be one. It's hard to believe that this coming weekend last year, I was thinking that I was going to have a baby. I was due May 24th (Miles decided to arrive June 10th) . I figured he was going to have some kick ass birthday celebrations when he got older with a birthday on the 2-4 weekend (likely ones I didn't want to hear about, but kick ass nonetheless). Little did I know that I was going to be weeks overdue.

Lets face it, for those of you that knew me when I was pregnant it got pretty ugly near the end (who am I kidding, despite all my exercise I grew like a...lets just say I got big fast). I WAS HUGE!!! I should have known a ten pounder was in there waiting & waiting and waiting.

Today I raise a glass of wine to my big ole belly (because I certainly couldn't then). Despite the gynormous sizes that this body achieved (I'm sure thanks to chocolate), I really miss the old belly. Rubbing it, reading to it, blasting music against it, getting automatic seats on the TTC with it, and feeling the sweetness inside of it.































......After the 3 days overdue photo no more photos were taken (that would just be cruel and unusual punishment to myself) until Miles was born....and we haven't stopped taking photos since.

Educational Toys?....I'll take the.....

I spend so much time and energy trying to figure out how I can stimulate Miles' mind in new ways. As you can see from the previous post, at times I have resorted to pots and pans (simple pleasures). I have threaded shoe laces through wooden spatulas, put uncooked noodles in old cottage cheese containers, and put myself in a variety of contorted positions just for a laugh.

We don't really have a tonne of toys (although he also hasn't had a birthday yet either), we buy new ones here and there (mostly second hand, as we never know if he's going to like them or not) because we think he's bored of the old ones, but that doesn't seem to be the case. We bring the toys home, put them together, feel completely accomplished that we constructed it properly and Miles takes one look and bangs on the floor with his block. Not interested in the least. He's not bored with his toys, he just has no interest in them what so ever. He really is content with climbing stairs, ripping my favorite books, opening the door closing the door, opening the door closing the door, opening the door closing the door, and eating Starbucks coffee cups.

We spend a lot of our time outdoors walking and pointing. The horticulturalist in me will have him identifying the rarest of plants in no time. Miles points at a tree and instead of me saying "tree", I say "that's a Norway Maple, or that's a Redbud". I then correct myself and say "Norway Maple Tree". On our walks he points out flowers all the time too. It kills me to just say "flower" and leave it at that (I want to say Trillium, Tulip, Peony) .

The other portion of our time is dedicated to feeding, cruising around the house, eating Chewy's dog food, dropping things in Chewy's water dish, dive bombing off the bed, and reading reading reading. The kid LOVES his books. Unfortunately we inherited a Barney book at some point in time, and well...It's the only book that makes him laugh hysterically upon opening. Yes this makes me cringe. I'm just hoping he's laughing at the absurdity of Barney, and not just because he's a fun loving purple freaking dinosaur. He did learn to say (and point out) baby from the book so I guess I do owe Barney a bit of credit.


Miles' Top Five Favorite Toys of the Week.

#5 Plastic container with 7 stale Cheerio's inside.
Ideal of shaking, banging, chewing, and throwing.













#4 Phone Book.
The only phone book in the house containing all numbers (argh).
Ideal of slobbering all over, throwing, and passing to mom (over and over again).













#3 Door Stop
Ideal for making boingy noise.
A personal favorite of the neighbor's I'm sure.











#2 Shoe laces through wooden spatula.
This one speaks for itself.













IT'S A TIE
#1 Pop can.
No brand preference.
Along with fabric softener sheets, this kid would crawl any distance to get his hand on one precious aluminum can. I have to stuff it with cloth so that he doesn't cut himself.



















#1 Remote Controls
Ideal for sucking, raising volume, lowering volume, and changing channels.
It's a miracle these remotes even work anymore.

Knock Knock...Who's There?

The truth is, I am almost always thinking of Miles. If I leave Miles with Dave, parents, or a friend, I can't help but wonder if he needs me, or if he's happy. I just need to know if he's okay. I know he's perfectly well taken care of and I should just relax and consider myself lucky to have some free time. I do appreciate the time I have away from Miles, but that doesn't mean I stop thinking of him. I'm not insane (though I'm sure some beg to differ), I'm not over protective (again with the begging to differ), in fact any chance I get for Miles to enjoy someone else's company, I take it.

When we went out for dinner with friends for Dave's birthday I secretly snuck the phone in the bathroom to call mom to make sure Miles was alright. Of course he was. But I couldn't have a good time until I knew, then I was fine (pour me another glass of wine!).

I think socializing a baby is important, that's why we go to playgroup. The Children's Storefront (that's playgroup) is amazing. It's a drop in, the moms are fantastic (well most of them, some are way too overprotective and insane), and there are babies of all ages for Miles to interact with. The downside is every time we go, Miles gets sick (but that's bound to happen anywhere).

I do however, have apprehensions about sending Miles to daycare. I feel like he's still so wee, and there is so much for me to miss. I know I went to daycare and turned out just fine (again with the begging to differ), and so did my brother. In fact everyone I know went to daycare. But times were different, and Maternity leave was not considered as important as it is now. I just can't imagine paying money for someone else to raise my child 8 hours a day, five days a week, and really only make a minimum amount of profit for my family (in case I didn't mention it, I'm not a rocket scientist, just a social services horticulturalist....Let me tell you, big bucks!). Even if there was a decent profit margin to be made I would have trouble with the idea of handing over Miles to a group of people I really don't know all that well.

I don't have trouble with the thought of sending him to daycare once or twice a week if necessary (socialization blah blah blah), but I really feel it is important for him to be surrounded by people he loves and that love him. I don't think that's such an insane concept. Family. It is one of the reasons I want to move home. I'm not saying I don't want to work, I do. I just want to work, and feel secure in the idea that Miles is surrounded by loved ones and his peers (that's why playgroup kicks serious ass).

So needless to say until we figure out whether or not moving home is in the future for us, we have decided that I should try my hand at being a work at home stay at home mom (hopefully this doesn't last long). I'm not sure if we can do it financially, but it's worth a try, as me going back to work really doesn't make too much of a difference financially anyways. I scored a nanny job two days a week starting in June, I'm watering a few gardens, doing some urns, and to add to that lovely list of odd jobs, I'm selling Avon (giggles).

Go ahead, laugh, I know I don't know the first thing about makeup, the most makeup I've ever applied was back in my "scary/goth" days, and that was just a shit load of black mascara, black eyeliner and some seriously red lipstick that didn't even go with my hair. I mean these days, putting makeup on means some lip gloss and a touch of brown mascara (but that bottle is all old and crusty so I don't really even use that anymore). But I need to try something, so I thought I'd give this a whirl. I have no idea what I'm doing (I'm certainly not knocking on doors, but I will put fliers in mail boxes if I have to). I don't even know if Avon will even be successful. All I know is that I feel so strongly about this that I'll basically try anything....Got any ideas?