The Bearded Man

Today one of my good friends popped in to see PK. His visit was short because he was working today and had to head back to work to deal with an emergency. (PS: Have I ever mentioned that weekend work SUCKS?) Of all of my close friends, he's probably the one who has seen PK the most, so by now she recognizes him when she sees him, even though it takes her a little while to warm up to him. I find that she's like that, even with family. When she saw my mom on Saturday, for instance, she acted all shy, even though she sees my mom at least once a week.

Anyway, as my friend was leaving, the hubby asked PK to point out my friend. She did so without any hesitation. He asked her again, and she pointed to him again. Then the hubby asked her to point out the bearded man (my friend has a bit of a beard going). Instead of pointing to him, however, she pointed to ME! I'm guessing that she mistook "man" for "mom", which is probably why she pointed to me. Still, it's pretty freaking hilarious. Moments like these make it all worth it.

One or Two?

It seems that everyone around me is pregnant with their second child, and most of them have children that are around PK's age. Today, I found out on Facebook that a highschool friend is pregnant with her second, due mid-year, and her first is only 11 months old. This sounds completely irrational and dumb, but I feel left out of this pregnant-with-the-second-baby thing. Families of 4 seem to be a lot more complete than families of 3. There's so much stigma around having only one child. As if having one is as bad as or worse than having no children whatsoever.

Whenever people ask me when #2 is coming along, I tell them that we're not sure if there will ever be a #2. And then they look at me funny. "But surely PK needs a little brother or sister!" they say. Does she? Why can't we just be happy with one? Why will two make us happier? Or make PK happier, for that matter? Why should I obsess over whether or not my family is complete with one child or two children? Shouldn't I just be happy with what I've got, and whatever happens, happens?

And yet, it's hard to do. When people around me are having their second, I can't help but wonder if my family IS complete just the way it is, or if I need another baby to make it complete. That makes me mad, because it's just some stupid societal expectation. And it takes my attention away from the one, precious little child that I do have. Having PK in our lives has been wonderful, and I resent myself when I start wondering if I should be longing for a #2, because here she is, alive, happy, and energetic, and yearning for my attention. And here I am wondering if she's enough to make me feel complete. Despicable.

And then the rational part of me takes over. Let's face it. Having one kid is hard work. I barely have time to myself right now as it is. Most days I come home exhausted. Work is tiring enough, and having to then feed and entertain a toddler, clean up after said todder, get ready for the next day, and try to get in a teeny bit of R&R before it starts all over again can be overwhelming on the best of days. And yet, there still seems to be time for daily workouts, weekly violin classes, and the occasional night off to go out with my sis because the hubby can cover for me. That of course all goes out the window with two.

I wouldn't be able to walk home from work with two kids in tow. It would take twice as long to get two kids ready for daycare. I don't even want to think about bedtime routines and how much less sleep we'd end up with. PK is such a good sleeper. Would a potential #2 be as good a sleeper? Would he or she be a colicky baby? Would he or she breastfeed better or worse than PK did (not that I'd do it for more than 3 months if I had a second)?

Some days I think that it would be awesome to have a second. PK is growing up so fast, and I sometimes miss those days of her being a tiny little baby. I wish that I had cherished those days more. Unfortunately, I was too busy worrying. I guess most parents go through that. At the same time, I was miserable during mat-leave. I was depressed, lonely, and just didn't feel like myself because I wasn't working. Could I go through that again?

The thought of having a sibling for PK somedays seems like a great idea. My sis and I are pretty close. Wouldn't it be great if PK were close to her sibling should she have one? But just because you're siblings doesn't mean that you would get along. Here are two people with two potentially different personalities who are put together for no other reason than the fact that they're related by blood. They may or may not get along. And let's also not forget all of the potential birth defects, autism, chronic ailments, and god-knows-what other conditions out there that can affect a child. PK was born a healthy baby. Would Fate be as kind to me a second time around?

And yet, many families seem to manage with two. Hell, some even have three or more (a little too insane, in my opinion). My father is one of 8. My paternal grandmother is one of 15. Clearly it IS manageable. Somehow. So I'm probably over-thinking it.

If you have two children or are planning for a second, then you're probably appalled upon reading this post. It's your right. But I won't make any apologies for this post. It is, after all, how I feel, and that's the point of this blog. I don't know if we'll ever have a second. If we do, he or she will be born into a loving and nurturing home. What I do know is that in the here and now, we have PK, and that's all that matters.

The Great Bananaless Banana Caper

I took PK to Indigo, her absolute favorite place in the world
(followed by our basement, which has become a mini-Indigo), late this
afternoon. After over an hour of me running after her while she pulled
books and toys off of shelves, her pushing stools across the floor
like they were pushcarts, running up and down the ramp to the kids'
section together, and of course, reading some books together, I
decided to offer her a snack. I gave her a blueberry cereal bar, which
she happily wolfed down. Except for the last 1/5 of it, which she
dropped on the floor. She freaked out when I wouldn't let her eat it.
We were on our way out anyway, and to calm her down from the loss of
her last bit of cereal bar and from the fact that we were leaving
Indigo, I promised her a banana from the grocery store next door.

That didn't do me much good because I didn't produce said banana
immediately. I kept trying to tell her as we left that we were buying
it next door. Try explaining THAT to a hungry and tired toddler. We
made it to the grocery store with less drama than I expected.
Unfortunately, when we got there, much to my dismay, it turned out
that ALL of the bananas were green. Then I spotted another set of
bananas a few meters over (it turned out that the first set were
organic and were therfore segregated from the non-organic variety).
Unfortunately the non-organic bananas were also all green. Crap. PL
was getting upset. She kept saying "nana" in this very confused and
distraught tone. Why was mom NOT getting me a banana as promised??? I
tried to explain to her that the bananas were green so they wouldn't
be any good. Try explaining THAT to a desperately hungry toddler
expecting a banana.

Some quick thinking brought me to where the breads were. I grabbed her
a cheese roll, she nodded in approval, and then got mad at me because
I wouldn't give it to her right away. I don't believe in eating unpaid-
for food in the supermarket, even if you plan on paying for it later.
I think it's rude and it teaches your child a bad habit. So I endured
PK's whining until I paid for the roll (it seemed like we were in line
FOREVER).

Finally, the roll was paid for and she eagerly dug in. The roll was a
good 20cm long, and she got through about 3/4 of it when all was said
and done. I guess she was hungry!

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Number 11

PK has had a couple of weeks of drool, red cheeks, and overall crabbiness. We suspected teeth, but saw none. I thought that maybe her top canines were coming in, but I saw nothing. Then yesterday, after PK's bath, I saw it - tooth number 11. It wasn't on her top jaw. It wasn't a canine. It was a brand-new outer incisor on the bottom left jaw. And the funny thing is that it was already halfway out! How could I have missed this? I guess for one thing, I should've thought of looking for teeth on her bottom jaw too.

Daddy to the Rescue!

I've been sick since last Sunday night. I'm pretty sure that this latest bug is courtesy of daycare. PK is a bit sick too, but her version of it seems pretty mild. Not that I'm complaining about my symptoms; they've been pretty mild too. Except that I've had to take two sick days (aka work from home in my PJs), because I didn't feel well enough to haul my butt into the office. I took my first sick day earlier in the week, on PK's day at home with grandma. That worked out well, because I didn't have to worry about getting PK to and from daycare. Also, since PK was a bit under the weather, it was nice that she was home. Believe it or not, it has actually been cold in Toronto this week (below 0C).

The next day I felt well enough to go into work. In fact, I felt like I had pretty much gotten rid of this bug. And then, in the afternoon, I was hit by a second wave of sore throat. I'd had a sore throat when I first got sick, but it was the raspy, mild sore throat that I usually get when I have a mild cold. This new sore throat was definitely worse. The type that feels like your whole throat is swollen and inflamed. And then I started feeling some minor chills. Not good. Still, I managed to make it home with PK in tow. By the time I got home though, I was totally out of it. Thankfully, the hubby was able to cover bathtime for me while I took a nice long hot shower. There's nothing like the feeling of a nice long hot shower when you're feeling crappy. I made it up to PK's room for storytime, and then I spent the rest of the evening in bed while the hubby cleaned up and brought me tea. Such service!

I felt crappy again the next day. There was no way I'd make it in to work. And I definitely didn't feel up for getting PK to daycare. So the hubby woke up extra-early to drive PK to daycare on his way to work. I helped get PK ready while he got ready for work. In spite of the fact that he drove her to daycare, they actually made pretty good time.

After they left, I get to sleep in a bit, and then I spent the rest of the day in bed, working in my PJs. I also snuck in another nap (I was home sick, after all). Well, that definitely did the trick. I felt good as new by the time the hubby and PK got home. Good thing too, because it was the hubby's night off from bath duty. We have an arrangement that once a week, the hubby gets an evening to himself. That means that I take care of bathtime and storytime and do kitchen cleanup, while the hubby gets to relax and do whatever. I think it's a fair trade-off, because he covers for me when I go off to violin class or when I have to hide away in the basement and practice before violin class.

I am truly grateful that the hubby is the embodiment of the word partner both as a parent and as a husband. Whenever life gets just a little busy, it's good to take the time to recognize that. I know that life would be a heck of a lot busier if he didn't pick up the slack. And I know of so many moms from my mommy group whose spouses don't put nearly as much work into raising their kids, and the mom is stuck doing all the work. Thank you, hubby. You're awesome!

The Comedy of Errors

Yesterday was rough since we left the daycare. It was pretty cold, so we had to pull out the winter stroller from hibernation. (Minus seven Celsius or colder. Honestly, below that, it doesn't matter. It's COLD.) It has been a while since we'd used the winter stroller. The last time we'd used it might have been sometime in March or April. Back then, PK was still facing me in the stroller, and the seat was more reclined because she was still pretty small. This time around, we faced her seat forward, and inclined her seat forward a bit more so that she would be more comfortable. HA!

We use a super-warm stroller sleeping bag in the winter to keep PK's legs warm, and its bulk combined with her using her down winter coat made her look REALLY squished in there. And with the seat inclined a little more forward than usual, she looked like she was about to be ejected as part of a Human Baby Cannonball circus act. (In contrast, last winter she was small enough and sat still enough that we could get away with stuffing her in the sleeping bag with a thin coat when we went out.) Because it was really cold out, I also put her rain/wind cover on. One stretch of our walk takes us through a ridiculously windy corridor, and PK is already not a fan of the wind. Add cold into that mix, and it's a recipe for disaster. Needless to say, she looked super-extra squished when I put on the plastic cover.

In spite of the squishiness, PK did eventually fall asleep after fussing for a bit. And then we hit the windy corridor, and in spite of the fact that I had put the plastic cover over top the stroller to shield her from the wind, the wind managed to gust into the little "breathing window" on the cover, and she completely flipped out. I was having a hard enough time pushing the stroller in the wind (it was INSANE), but now I also had to contend with a freaked out baby too. Fortunately, I can flip the handle on the stroller so that she wound up facing me, and that shielded the wind. While this is a fairly easy task in normal weather, it was horrible in this psycho wind. PK was still freaking out, I was trying not to get blown away, and my hands were FREEZING. I finally managed to get things going, but by then, PK was too upset to fall back asleep, and I was now having trouble pushing the stroller, since the front wheels, which swivel, were now at the back, and the big back tires were at the front. I pushed the stroller like I was drunk. I managed to lock down the front wheels after a few futile attempts (did I mention how cold it was?), and that seemed to help. Unfortunately, turning was next to impossible.

By the time we made it home, PK was in better spirits. The hubby arrived soon afterward, and after settling in and a quick diaper change, I made her some dinner. First a steamed a few carrots and gave them to her while I made her an omelet. She wolfed them down. So I made her some more. Part way through, she started flipping out for no reason. I think she might have bitten her tongue or the inside of her mouth. I was hoping that by the time that I got the egg to her, she'd be over that crying spell. It was not to be.

She looked like she was interested in the egg at first, but it was too hot, so I had to cool it off first before giving it to her. By the time it cooled off, PK was too upset to eat. We tried to distract her by giving her some olives (she LOVES olives). That worked for a bit. I put some egg onto a fork and left it on her high chair tray. She took some. She took a few spoonfuls. Then she got upset again. And that was it. She didn't want to eat what was in front of her anymore.

PK cried and cried and cried while the hubby and I ate our dinner. She wanted off her high chair, but we wouldn't budge. She needs to learn that at dinnertime, she has to sit on her high chair. She also needs to learn that we won't keep offering her different things until she finally eats something. She wouldn't eat what was in front of her, so once the hubby and I finished eating, we took her upstairs. I doubt she would've eaten anything anyway, because she was far too upset.

The cry fest continued well into bathtime. We realized later that PK had a REALLY bad case of diaper rash, and that certainly didn't help. (It cleared up by morning, but she struggled as I tried to put the cream on after her bath.) She finally calmed down by the time I got her into her pajamas. I think that her fatigue had finally overtaken her. She was quite mellow and sweet during storytime, but boy, what a ride!

I think that this massive irritability is a result of being over-tired from daycare. She's only napping once a day at daycare, so by the time she gets home, all she wants to do is sleep. Understandable. I spoke to one of her caregivers today and she suggested that I bring PK's dinner with me in the morning so that they can feed it to her just before I arrive. Since she seems to eat better at daycare anyway, this is seeming like a viable option. I think I might also try to leave work a bit earlier so that she doesn't eat so late and so that we can put her to bed earlier.

Parenthood: always such a learning experience!

Thanks for Nothing

Today, I arrived at the subway station as usual to take the subway downtown to drop PK off at the daycare and to go into work. As soon as I got through the gate, I read a big sign on the elevator door that said, "OUT OF SERVICE". I go to Plan B: the escalator. The escalator in the area usually goes down for morning rush hour, so I figured I'd be okay. Except that the escalator was out of service too. (As a side note, have you ever noticed how often escalators seem to be out of service? WTF???)

I look over at a TTC employee who is near the elevator and ask, "Well how am I supposed to get this stroller down then?" Rather than attempt to be helpful, he just shrugs. Same with the ticket guy. In fact, NOBODY offered to help carry the stroller down the steps. Fortunately for me, our winter stroller is still fairly light, and PK still isn't all that heavy, so I was able to carry the stroller down myself.

Given how most people don't have an ounce of decency and kindness in them, no wonder the world is going to hell.

Bad Cop

PK's eating has gone from great to terrible. Somewhere along the line, she has decided that she pretty much doesn't like most things except for cheese, apple sauce, eggs, blueberries, and yogurt. This makes meal planning very difficult. And let's face it. A growing kid cannot live off of cheese, apple sauce, eggs, blueberries, and yogurt. Every once in a while, she surprises us and eats stuff like couscous and lentils. Oh, and she LOVES black beans.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I tried these Gerber entrées for toddlers. She liked a couple of them, but then after a few meals of these entrées, she would have nothing to do with them. I'm honestly a bit relieved, because they weren't frozen entrées, so I can only imagine what the hell they were preserved with.

On to Plan B. Maybe PK just wasn't hungry enough. So I cut out her post-daycare snack so that she'd have more of an appetite at dinner. We also started letting her roam free around the kitchen while we chased after her with spoonfuls of food. That worked for a while, but then she just kept running away from us.

Then we discovered that daycare had taught her how to hold her own spoon, so we let her feed herself. It's a very messy business, but that seemed to work for a while. Until she decided that she also wanted to scoop the food from her plate or bowl herself. She's too uncoordinated at this point to scoop the food herself, so we plunked the food onto the spoon and made her think that she'd done it herself. That seemed to work for a while. And then it stopped.

The moral of the story: whatever works today may not work tomorrow.

On Friday, we decided to go grocery shopping after work. We got home pretty late, and by then, PK was over-tired and over-hungry. She flat-out refused to eat what we put in front of her: pasta stars in tomato sauce. And when I say refused, I mean full-out meltdown tantrum. What didn't help was the fact that after having just spent a small fortune on groceries, we came home to a busted fridge. The inside of the fridge was 10C and the freezer was down at 0C. (Our fridge is a little over a year old, and this is the 2nd time that it has busted, so you can imagine how happy we were.) So the stress of busted fridge and a baby having a meltdown were not good. She cried and cried and cried, but pretended not to care. I finally did cave and gave her blueberries. She ate those, and that's pretty much it. Fortunately, we'd given her some cheese and a home-made banana/flaxseed muffin before we left for grocery shopping.

On Saturday, PK ate fine, but then come Sunday morning, we were back to meltdown mode. I had had it. We had been too lenient with her. She was beginning to think that she could get away with anything, and that was not good. Last week, we'd put an end to her roaming the kitchen free during mealtimes and confined her to her high chair for meals. This week, it was time for me to be stern with her. She was throwing her food on the floor, and that was just unacceptable. I spoke to her sternly. She looked at me, and bawled her eyes out. She was TERRIFIED. She looked to the hubby for comfort. He said nothing, but he also didn't give in to her cries.

This is one of the hardest things I've ever done. Seeing the look of terror on my daughter's face after speaking to her like that was just crushing. But I stayed the course. We cleared out her breakfast, and proceeded to put her down for a nap. She got over being upset with me by the time we got up to her room and asked me to read her a book. I almost cried. How could she forgive me so readily after I spoke to her like that? But she did. I read her the book, and put her down for a nap.

When I got back downstairs, I cried my eyes out. I still have the image of PK's expression of terror. It's positively haunting. Some days, parenting seems so easy, you just put it on auto-pilot. Other days, it feels like you're constantly adapting. And when you think you've got it down, you need to adapt again. And to think that it'll be like this for at least the next 20 years...

Rush Hour

I HATE getting on the subway with the stroller at rush hour. When I was on mat-leave and needed to get uptown to run a few errands, I always tried to time it so that I would hop on the subway with PK BEFORE rush hour. Unfortunately, rush hour in Toronto begins at 3pm, so the window of opportunity isn't that large when you also have to contend with planning around naps and meals. Needless to say, my timing didn't always work out so well, and I was sometimes stuck on the subway surrounded by hordes of people pushing and shoving, and using the stroller bar as a hand rest. Some people just have no manners. Add to that the fact that in the winter, people are hacking away and/or sneezing, so I often had to pull down the canopy (false sense of security, I know) or put the rain/wind cover on the stroller to give PK some protection.

Now that I'm back at work, I HAVE to take the subway in the morning. Either that or wake up earlier and walk 40 minutes into work. I don't have that in me. I'm already sleep-deprived as it is, between getting PK ready for bed, preparing things for the next day, and trying to spend some time relaxing. So, subway into work it is. I must confess that it's not so bad most mornings. I don't usually take a seat unless the car is relatively empty. I really don't mind standing, because it's just a few stops. And on the most part, I have enough standing room.

Some days, however, I get really annoyed. Like today. The subway seemed more crowded than usual. I got in just as the doors were closing. I had made it in, but people behind me were still trying to get in and were therefore pushing me. I find this annoying enough when I don't have the stroller, but it's EXTREMELY annoying when you have a stroller. Not to mention the fact that today, one of the front wheels of PK's stroller got caught on someone's shoe, so while I was getting pushed, PK's stroller wasn't moving forward. Instead, it was tipping over 45-degrees, with the front wheels on the ground and the back part up in the air. I don't know how PK didn't complain, but I myself was PISSED.

The way home is entirely different. The subway is usually even more crowded than in the morning. So I avoid it at all costs. This is when I walk home. I do it for 3 reasons:

1. The 40-minute power walk home is great exercise
2. PK often gets a nap in
3. I avoid riding the subway at rush hour

Whenever I wonder if I'm doing the right thing in torturing PK with a 40-minute walk, I always think of these 3 things. Besides, if I DID take the subway home, it would probably end up taking me just as long to get home, since it's a 0.7km walk from the daycare to the closest station with an elevator (yes, I mapped it on Google Maps), and then there's the whole mess of getting on multiple elevators and getting onto the subway itself.

One time, I made the mistake of taking the subway home. I took it at a station further up my route, so I could still get a walk in. Miraculously, the subway car was half empty, so I parked the stroller in front of a row of 3 seats and sat down. As I sat down, a woman mumbled under her breath that I was taking up an entire row of 3 seats. First of all, the stroller blocked 2 seats (I was sitting on one of said blocked seats). Secondly, the subway car was half-empty. There were PLENTY of seats to choose from. Had the subway car been full, I would not have even fathomed taking a seat. I let her have a piece of my mind.

Still, for what it's worth, I'm grateful that I have the option of taking public transit to and from work. I just wish that people taking public transit wouldn't be such jerks.

Breakfast Made Easy

I apologize if I've been MIA lately. Life has been incredibly busy lately, and there are so many things that I want to post (including a general PK update), but there has just been no time. So in the meantime, I will leave you with a quick and healthy breakfast idea for your toddlers. PK hasn't really been into eating her baby cereal anymore, and doesn't like regular oatmeal, so I've pulled out something from my Childhood Vault. My mom and grandmother used to make this for us when we were little. It's pretty healthy, and tastes pretty good. I've added a little something extra to it to make it even healthier: mashed up bananas with oats.

Ingredients:
- 1 banana
- 1/2 cup of oats
- 1 tablespoon of flax meal (I just took whole flaxseeds and ground them up in little electric chopper)
- honey (optional)

Preparation:
Mash up the banana. Transfer the mashed up banana to a serving bowl and mix in the flax meal and oats so that the mixture is even. Add the honey on top.

Voilà! Easy peasey, lemon squeezy!