It's just a number, right?

"Good morning, you weigh 132 pounds!" my scale tells me every morning (it doesn't actually talk to me. I'm just trying to create an image here). And every morning I keep hoping it tells me something else, but it doesn't. So I can't really be happy, I can't just rejoice in the fact that this number is not that high given my height (5'6) or that at least it's not on an ascending slope or something. I'm just a little disappointed that the number doesn't go down, and that the number is higher that it was pre-baby (it was between 123 and 127, BTW).

Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty comfortable in my own skin, much more so than when I was in my twenties and weighing less, actually. I know that there are thousands more important things in life, and you would never, ever catch me complaining that I'm fat or anything. I know I'm not, it's not that.

Years ago, when I was a single, broke city dweller, I was one day talking to my then-boss about my recent summer vacation. I told her that I had spent many lazy afternoons reading by the rooftop pool at my gym, despite all the "you and your size 6, chunky-legged body don't belong here" glances I had received from the models/upscale bar and restaurant waitresses/very fashionable gay males/jet-setting crowd that populated the place (it was close to my apartment and the office was paying for my membership). My plump, forty-something, mother-of-three, too-busy-to-take-care-of-herself boss had then given me the most perplexed look I have ever gotten in my life. And I got it. I could certainly tell the difference between myself and a stunning, 5'11, perfect-bodied model, but she simply couldn't conceive that I could be viewed as 'big' by some people. It was all a question of perception, just like the time I had watched The Biggest Loser on TV and a 300-pound woman had referred to the group of 200-pound girls as "the skinny blondes".

My point is I know my weight could seem like the goal or dream weight to some and I'm not complaining about it. I'm not asking anyone to shed a tear for me. It's not really about the number as much as it is about how I feel, how clothes fit me, how healthy and fit I am. It just bothers me that for the first time in my life, I can't seem to go back to what used to be my natural weight.

In my (non-pregnant) adult life, I've been anywhere from 106 pounds (at the end of my very unhappy short-lived marriage) to 137 pounds. But when I was working out and watching what I ate to some extent, I was just naturally falling back into that 'zone'. Not anymore apparently. I decided to start working out regularly again in September, to finally get rid of those last "toddler weight" pounds, get back into shape, return to a normal routine, help fit into my wedding dress, and generally feel better about myself. I have lost maybe a couple of pounds, but not more than that. I've increased the frequency, then the intensity, then the duration of my workouts. I've tried to downsize my portions, curb snacking, cut the few unhealthy things I was eating (not completely successfully), reduce my already very reasonable alcohol intake. Nada. The scale still repeats the same thing day after day.

Is it getting older (could I have a slower metabolism already)? Is it because for me, having a child (and gaining nearly 50 pounds in the process) was the point of no return? I don't know. I'm trying not to look at all these celebrities and real-life women who say "breastfeeding made them lose all the weight" or "running after a toddler made them thin", etc. I clearly don't fall into the category of women who became hotter through motherhood (all the lack of sleep didn't help). I know in the end it's just a few pounds. But I still wish the scale would get out of its rut already. Because if I have another kid, I would not be thrilled to gain yet another dress size. It adds up.

I am not a strapless girl

I do find some strapless wedding dresses lovely, but for some reason I am 100% drawn to in-between gowns. I mean not ones with full sleeves, but anything in between: halter neck, cap sleeves, large straps of any kind, etc. Is it an unconscious impulse to do things differently, since 80% of wedding gowns sold in the US are strapless? I'm not sure. But I am also drawn to shorter and non-pure-white dresses, so it might be.

I am totally in love with this picture, found in my latest Martha Stewart Weddings. The dress is from Judd Waddell, who used to work for Carolina Herrera.


This is what I am going to hand out to my mother for inspiration on how to redo my own gown (backstory here). It would have been great to have a picture of the front as well, but I envision a simple low-plunging v-neck (bear in mind that the "strapless", opaque part of the dress will be underneath). ** Excited...!**

M-m-m-uffins

I am the muffin queen. That's what I eat for breakfast almost every day (I find it less boring than toast or cereal, it's portable, it's healthy) and by making them myself I can control their size and what goes into them. I have tried literally hundreds of recipes: some are quickly forgotten (I stoically eat them because I hate to throw food away, but LP doesn't share my sense of duty and simply balks at them), while some make our mornings shine. Here are my top three, best-of-the-best muffin recipes. All freeze very well. The best tip to make great muffins is to avoid overmixing the batter.

1 - Oatmeal-Raisin-Cookie

From Martha. The title says "cupcake", but nah. It tastes nothing like a cupcake, it's crumbly and filled with delicious adds-on and, hello, no frosting. It requires sour cream and coconut and at one point you need to split your batter into two batches, something I've never seen in any other recipe. But the result is, oh, so heavenly. I once brought some to the hospital where a friend had just given birth. She still talks about it with tears in her eyes three years later, saying that 'they saved her life'. OK, maybe she was a bit hormonally emotional.

2 - Almond-Cranberry

These have real flair, and will impress your guests.
------
1 1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup ground almonds (or "almond powder")
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cup milk
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 egg
2 teaspoons almond extract
1 cup fresh or frozen cranberries

For the topping:
1/3 cup sliced almonds
1/4 cup sugar

Preheat oven to 350°F. Cream oil and sugars until light and fluffy. Add egg, milk and almond extract, while mixing just enough to combine. Add dry ingredients (flour, almond powder, baking powder and salt), mixing just enough to combine. Fold in cranberries delicately. Put into lined muffin cups, dividing evenly. Sprinkle the top of each muffin with sugar and almonds. Bake for about 25 minutes.

3 - "Date Square"

Date squares (a type of cookie bar with a rich date filling) are a traditional (and delicious) French-Canadian dessert, typically prepared for the Holidays. This is the muffin version.
------
Put one package (usually 1 kg or 2.2 pounds) of pitted dates into a saucepan with 3 1/2 cups of water and 2 cups of brown sugar. Bring to a boil and let cook, stirring occasionally. After 10 minutes or so the dates will have dissolved into a mush (with some pieces remaining). Remove from the heat and let cool. Separate the paste-like mixture into about four portions. Keep one for the recipe and freeze the rest into Ziploc bags for later use.

1 cup of rolled oats (not instant)
1 cup either milk, soy milk, or buttermilk
1 egg
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup soft butter
1 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

Put the oats into a large bowl, then pour in the milk. Let it sit. Preheat oven to 400 F. Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add in the egg, then pour in the oats + milk. Add the dry ingredients (flour, salt, leavening, cinnamon), mixing until just combined. Stir in the date mixture carefully. Transfer into lined muffin cups and bake for about 25 minutes.

An Icon

At the risk of leading people to think I am obsessed with her...

I strongly suggest we make the new First Lady, Michelle Obama, the Official Icon of the Modern Woman.

I will never forget the expression on her face, as she held the Book her husband was being sworn in on. Intelligence, love, pride, astonishment.

(Photo from the Huff Post)

With all due respect, what a departure from all the ones that preceded her (in every possible way).

Every time I see her I can't help but say 'wow'. For the way she looks, the healthy confidence she exudes, the way her personality shines through, what she accomplished, what she represents. What a wonderful role model this woman is.

Would you be surprised if he later decided to become an actor?

His rendition of To be or not to be

The other day I bought potato chips, which are a rarity in our house. LP loves them, though, and the purchase did not go unnoticed. We came back home and as I put the groceries away, he fell down again and hurt himself a bit.

I hugged him and tried my best to comfort him while he sobbed and sobbed. Then, in his tear-filled, whiny, this-is-the-end-of-the-world voice, he said (or rather pleaded): "Des chips... Des chips..."

Breaking News: I finally found something positive to say about winter!

My favorite fruit is in season again.


Blood oranges... Yum.

We're hardly alone... or original, for that matter

Interesting fact.

The latest statistics reveal that here in Quebec, 62% of babies are now born to unmarried parents. Within this percentage, there is undoubtedly a certain number of unfortunate situations you find everywhere, like very young/single/underprivileged mothers... But the vast majority of those are certainly people like us, in committed relationships, but who have yet to take the plunge. Some will do it later, some never (although within our immediate family and social circle they are very few) ...

The same study notes that 35% of couples here are not married. If you take into account older folks (who tend to be married more than the younger ones) and same-sex marriages (the majority of which remain childless), this still means that an overwhelming number of people who are not married at the time when they have children will choose to make it official at some point, just like us... Then why is it that it is almost never discussed in usual wedding-industry media?

I wonder if this is the highest ratio in the (developed) world... Probably among the top 3, but watch out for those Scandinavian countries...

Reality...huh, health check

LP had his 2-year check-up this week. Lots of good news (remember to thank whatever's out there EVERY DAY for your children's good health). He now weighs 12.1 kg (26.6 pounds) and is just about 89 cm (35 inches) tall. In a year, he's gained over 4 pounds (which is on the low side, but is not surprising given his dad's long and lanky figure) and has grown 12 cm (4.7 inches). He's maintaining his position on the chart beautifully: a little under average for weight, a little above average for height (i.e. chances are he'll turn into his dad). As a comparison, my seven week-old, born three weeks early nephew now weighs 14 pounds. LP reached that weight at 15 weeks.

He's ahead in terms of comprehension, speech (no. Really?) and fine motor skills. Teeth is fine, nutrition is fine, his belly button hernia resolved itself, sleep is still not perfect but what are you gonna do? In terms of his personality, he's still very emotional and sometimes a tad intense, but really, he's a breeze now. Things have smoothed out big time. Until his next "no phase" or whatever phase I suppose.

But the one big thing is he's also behind when it comes to his gross motor skills, like he's always been.

I already posted about him falling down. A lot. Being wobbly. Not being stable on his two feet at all. Repeatedly hurting himself on anything. Seemingly falling out of thin air. Falling awkwardly. Finding it difficult to do some physical things like climbing down the stairs, taking off his boots... Etc. Which can at least in part be attributed to inherited clumsiness from... (cough) me. But although there's some progress, there's still a big gap between him and other children his age, which is constantly noted by his teachers and others. It's becoming frustrating for him, and painful for us to watch.

The doctor ruled out a balance/neurological problem (phew!). His legs are a bit inverted, so she thinks it might be the problem. She believes it's still a "variant of normality", like the physical equivalent of those kids who only really start talking late but eventually catch up and turn out to be totally fine. Yet, she has nonetheless referred us to an pediatric orthopedic surgeon for an evaluation.

So I called the only two hospitals doing this sort of thing here. The waiting list for the first one is 12 months. At the second one, the line is always busy, and there's no way to talk to anyone or leave a message.

I'm stunned. I've heard many of those "horror stories" about our health care system (which is universal and "free"). The long waiting lists, the USSR-like lines at emergency rooms everywhere. But so far, we've always been lucky. I never had a problem finding a good doctor to monitor my pregnancy. I have nothing but praise to sing about the hospital where I gave birth. When I had some problems with breastfeeding, an amazing nurse came to my house several times and took all the time necessary to help. We've never waited more than maybe 3 hours at a clinic (OK, still fairly long but manageable, and that was just one time). LP had ear-tube surgery 9 days after it was decided. I recently had an appointment with a surgeon in about two weeks, etc.

But this hurdle was waiting to bite us in the a**. For any other type of appointment, be it with a car mechanic or a hairdresser, one year would be completely unacceptable! How can it be acceptable for a child who might have a problem and need help?

I am very tempted to do something more-or-less ethical here. My father is a doctor in my hometown. I'm pretty sure he could pull some strings and get us an appointment there fairly fast. We could go for a long weekend. It's not the most practical thing to have a doctor 500 km away, but. One year. What an alternative.

Does that fall into the "totally wrong" category, or in the "if-you-can-do-it-you-should-after-all-this-is-your-child" category?

The Momversations did it again!

Hit very close to home, I mean.

This episode's theme is Censoring your blog. Hot topic, if there ever was one.

Thank you, ladies, for voicing out my (humble) opinion. Like you, I also do not think writing about your child(ren) is exploiting them. I also think that as a writer, it's inevitable and perfectly acceptable that you will want to write about them, the same way you were writing/will write about whatever takes center stage in your life at a given moment. If one day LP feels uncomfortable about any of this, I will, like you (lovely ladies who make me feel so happy to realize I'm not alone -see also the outpouring of comments from mommy bloggers-), simply stop and, if necessary, destroy all evidence. I will also, like Heather Armstrong, emphasize the positive aspect of documenting my, and my family's, life, and assume that maybe LP will later delight in knowing how I felt and how things were when he was little. I know I would.

Obviously the comfort zone you want is yours to determine, and can widely vary from person to person. I've never even seen the face of some of my cyber-friends, while others discuss their intimate life in (some -read, not too graphical-) details. I personally try to firmly stand on middle ground. Yes, I use my real name, but one of my main goals for doing this is to make myself known as a writer/build a portfolio. I try not to use the names of people around me, although there are some exceptions. I live in the Montreal area, but that's not even my actual city (which I will not reveal). In a way, I try not to censor myself too much, because I want to stay true to myself (if you lie on your own blog, what are you worth?), but the thing is there are still A LOT of things I don't say, because I fear upsetting/offending some people, or because I'm afraid I could somewhat regret it later. I'm learning as I go, but basically if I have a doubt, I think it's best to keep it off-limits.

I try not to discuss work-related stuff, as much as I'd like to sometimes, but my professional integrity is on the line, and we need this income. I certainly don't shy away from talking about sexuality in real life, but generally feel it's not really the place to do so here. I love talking about politics and religion, and try to make my position clear, but also to remain mostly non-controversial. And frankly, I'm a little less bitchy/sarcastic in writing. I guess I'm a bit self-conscious, and fear that what M and I view as humor could be interpreted as a sense of superiority and meanness.

I understand people's desire to protect their private lives, I do. But I have two strong points to make against this idea: 1-I simply refuse to live in fear, and think it's both inane and senseless to do so in all aspects of your life, and 2-it's actually a big illusion. You don't even need to post content; as soon as you visit a website, leave a comment, google something, make a purchase, fill a survey, etc., you leave traces everywhere. OK, I don't have the names and credit card numbers of everyone reading this blog, but I still have a lot of information about you, and I'm nowhere near Big Brother here. Imagine what the serious folks with time and money can do in terms of cross-referencing your information.

I do post some personal pictures, but you know what, I find this is what makes stories personable, and endearing. And there's also a practical aspect: this is mostly how my family gets updated pics of the ever-fast-growing LP. I just hope I can be trusted to remain within the realm of good judgment here.

Of all the people I've heard talking about the "dangers to your personal life" lurking over the Internet, I've yet to meet one whose point of view was both rational and based on real knowledge of said Internet. There are over 100 million blogs, people. Some bloggers I know post about everything including the real names of their loved ones, where they live, where they work, etc. They have lots and lots of readers and you what? Nothing happens to them. Which does not mean I do not want to remain careful about what I post, but give me a break here. People have other things to do... And should definitely worry about other things.

Letting a very naive 13 year-old girl actively chat online with a screen name like "gingercookiesupercool" = Dangerous

Replying to an e-mail from your "bank" that asks for your birthday, social insurance number and password = Dangerous

Opening attachments from an unknown source = Dangerous

Buying stuff online without ensuring of the site's security = Dangerous

Illegally downloading and copying media content = Not only potentially dangerous but also potentially a criminal offense

Having a meaningless little blog where you sometimes feel like talking about your personal life = Not dangerous

Inauguration Day

The inauguration of the 44th President is a big deal, even here in the non-US world. La Presse, Montreal's "serious" French-language newspaper, has sent correspondents everywhere in the country last week. Unsurprisingly, the article by Pierre Foglia, the paper's opinionated star journalist, was my favorite. I wanted to reproduce it in part here, because of everything I've read, it's the one that truly made me realize what it means to have a Black President, and what, hopefully, it could change.

The article is titled "Sad, sad, song". Reporting from Greensboro, Alabama, Foglia, a 60-something Italian immigrant, is having dinner at African-American couple Annie Lee and Dayton's large but dilapidated house. Between the two of them, they have 16 kids. Dayton is mostly making conversation with the foreign journalist, and, a devout Baptist himself, has met in Foglia his first ever flesh-and-blood atheist.

-Translation is by me, so it's neither official nor perfect... I tried to keep the original style and tone, though-

******

...These are not the Black people we usually see. Not the journalists, artists, taxi drivers, US presidents... Black people from the South, like you don't even see in Obama's books. In Obama's books, all Black people are urbanites. Here, they're still in the cotton fields, even though the cotton fields are no more. I am going to say something terrible: they are still slaves, even though slaves are no more. Sad, sad, song.

(Coming back to his conversation) He asks me where I'm originally from. I say Italy. I saw in his face that neither him nor Annie had any idea of what I was talking about. Italy? I could have said Moldavia or Tatarstan.

Then, Dayton's cell phone rings, and, instead of a ringtone, we hear the voice of a news anchor on November 4th who says: "And the next president of the United States is..."

So I say: "That victory was pretty incredible". He replies: "Yeah, for once, Black people voted together..."

"Along with at least some white folks as well", I add. "We didn't need the white folks. As long as the Black people stuck together..."

Hey, friend, I say. There is a little problem with the numbers here. You only make up 12% of the country's population.

"What do you mean, 12%? We (the Black people), are a majority in this country!"

I was stunned. I had never even imagined this kind of misinformed misery, disconnected, disorganized, both culturally and socially. Sad, sad, song.

Like many white people, all I knew about racism was its folklore aspect, not its real, concrete effects and impact. I plead guilty to the fact that because of me, all night long, all we had talked about was folklore. My notebook was full of such anecdotes: as a child Dayton could not drink from the same water fountain as the white folks, etc.

White people know nothing about the ordinary racism of the South, which pulls Black people to the bottom and makes sure they stay there. Screw all the civic rights demonstrations. So tell me, Dayton, what has changed in your rapports with the white folks since you were a child?

Granted, he has never heard of Italy, he doesn't know how many Black people there are in the country, but on this topic, he is like an encyclopedia.

What has changed? Everything has changed. And nothing has changed. What has changed is that they don't treat us like shit anymore. What has not changed, is that they still think we are shit, exactly like before. What has not changed is that everything is organized for us to stay like shit exactly like before.

Do you think Obama can change that?

I don't know. You know what you should do? Go visit the largest employer in Greensboro, the Heartland Catfish.

And what will I see?

Everything.

So I went. Fish is transported in trucks fitted with tanks into the factory, then poured onto a conveyer belt, until they reach the huge, sharp mechanical knives that turn them into fillets. All along the chain, workers sort, remove, cut, all at a crazy speed... You know, like those Japanese chefs you see on TV? Like that, but 8 hours a day. Workers often cut their fingers. Simply sever them.

They are 150 workers there. Except for a few Latinos, all are Black. The factory is like an icebox, only a few degrees above the freezing point. Water everywhere. $6.25 per hour, 40 hours per week, that's just $250 a week.

There are a few white people, all foremen, accountants, shipping managers, etc. Exactly the same work structure you could see in the cotton fields.

******

Welcome, President Obama. We'll be expecting great things from you.


Original article (in French)

Milk

No, not the movie... I figure it will be 2018 before I can regularly see movies at the theater again.

I recently came across the most interesting and fascinating New Yorker article about breastfeeding. Not its day-to-day mundane mechanics or practices, but rather its historical, legal, and political aspects.

Beer and breastfeeding... Cheers to that! Actual early 20th century French ad

For the past two years, it's always struck me as strange that the previous generations of women around me did not breastfeed... When my nephew was born recently, my sister had trouble with breastfeeding at first, and my mom jumped to me to give her tips, techniques, encouragement and support. There she was, a mother of three, but that (millennium-old, universal, extremely instinctive) knowledge was completely foreign to her. Even further, before she reconciled with it through my experience, she had always perceived breastfeeding very negatively, like many women that age. In no way is this a blame: this is how things were at the time. But how did it happen that a whole society, including medical professionals, came to think that something so natural, so practical, so economical, and so clearly beneficial, was wrong?

The article provides several answers (social factors played a big part, as did a certain pretense towards "evolution") and tidbits (for instance, in Boston in 1910, 90% of poor mothers nursed, while only 17% of wealthy ones did. Even more interesting is the fact that the exact opposite is true today). It also outlines the public health aspect of it all: for instance, the long, paid mat leaves we have in Canada directly support prolonged breastfeeding, which in turn, supposedly means healthier children. The cold reality for many mothers in the US for example, is going back to work within weeks of giving birth, which means either stopping breastfeeding early or subjecting themselves to a rigid and difficult pumping schedule. I never really had to do that, and I take the opportunity to express my utmost admiration and respect for the women who do.

I nursed LP for one year, by the way, including 7 months full-time. It wasn't easy in the first months and I couldn't find support anywhere, because no one had ever heard of a baby who refused to nurse. Now that he's grown into a little person, I know he simply doesn't care for milk very much and quickly tires of being confined into one place, that there was nothing wrong with him or me. Before he was born, I didn't really want to breastfeed. It freaked me out a little bit. In fact, I never thought I would become such an advocate for it (without being an extremist -I hate extremists of any kind). But having persevered is now one of the things I feel the proudest about in my whole life.

It's pronounced She-koo-tea-me

And spelled Chicoutimi. My hometown that is.

We are currently experiencing an extreme cold wave right now, the worst one in many years. The temperature is about-24 (-11 F), and of course this is what everybody is talking about. How brutally, inhumanely cold it is.

I think it's certainly not warm, and clearly this is not the time to go out for a long walk. But frankly, it's not that cold. Not the kind of cold that instantly freezes your limbs and eyelids shut anyway.

I don't have superpowers that make me very resistant. It's just that where I grew up, this kind of weather is just "a nice winter day." Up there, -40 (in both systems) is not that uncommon. I may have cursed it many times, I may have wondered what the hell people were doing choosing to live there, but whether I liked it or not, it's gotten me used to extremes.

My hometown is 500 km (310 miles) north of Montreal. It's very remote and isolated, although when I was living there, I didn't see it this way (it was just, you know, home). It's fairly ugly (the man made part, at least), with limited opportunities, and with all the disadvantages of a small town (not much to do, everyone knowing everything about everybody).

It's also beautiful (the nature part, at least), and some kind of paradise if you like winter and the great outdoors. The people's warmth, friendliness and strong sense of community is legendary. Life is cheap, unfussy, laid-back, and pretty much devoid of big-city stress. I'm telling you, as much as I try to hate it, it's encoded somewhere deep into my heart, man. I can't help it.

I know my father, the only member in my family who still lives there (along with my stepmom who, ironically, is a Montreal transfuge) and is deeply attached to the region, views the fact that his three daughters left (like a lot of young people do) as a bit of a failure. I always justify myself by saying that I wouldn't be able to find decent work there, which is probably right, but the truth is even if I could, I don't think I would go back. There, I said it.

Which does not prevent me from feeling a real kinship with these people, and a sense of pride in their accomplishments -it's no small feat to maintain a region alive this far away from everything, and under such extreme weather conditions. While I'm being selfishly comfortable in Montreal (which is almost tropical in comparison!), they choose to stay there, constantly fight with the cold, and believe that there is still a future. As a teenager living there, one of my favorite songs was U2's Red Hill Mining Town, and it just perfectly applies to this situation (except there are no mines up there, only aluminum plants).

And just like them, I tend to smirk and feel a little smug when (native) "wussy" Montrealers talk about what they think is really cold.

Chicoutimi in the winter

Note: People do not live in these little cabins... They build them on the river as soon as it's frozen solidly enough, then dig a hole into the ice and fish in them. They're like temporary little villages becoming fully alive during the weekend, the cabins have wood burning stoves or heaters, furniture, etc... Come March, it's all over. Whatever floats your boat I guess!

Source(City's Website)

Note to self: try to see the world through the eyes of a (nearly) two year-old

"Bonjour matin!" (Good morning morning!) is what LP now says every day when we open up his bedroom's curtains.

He doesn't care if it's cold and dark: once he catches a glimpse of a bus, or even better, a snowplow or a garbage truck, his day is made.

The alphabet is the source of endless fascination for him. "Des chiffres!" (Numbers!), he recognizes enthusiastically when he sees some.

One of his greatest thrills is to run, run, run like there's no tomorrow, without being careful about where he's heading, arms flailing, laughing out loud. Bonus points if somebody tries catching him.

He sings "Happy Birthday" to anyone and anything, whenever he feels like it.

What does he want to have for breakfast? Pizza. For dinner? Watermelon!

My feel-good playlist

In January I often need to revert to trusted positive-energy songs in order to prevent the too-easy-to-embrace winter blues. Call it survival instinct, if you will.

Cute and colorful French pop princess Yelle

Feist - Mushaboom
The Postal Service - Such Great Heights
Teddybears feat. Paola - Yours to keep
Snow Patrol - Spitting Games
Angels and Airwaves - Everything is magic
Malajube - Pâte Filo
Gwen Stefani - What are you waiting for?
Stereophonics - Pick a part that's new
Cardigans - Carnival
Cansei de ser sexy - Music is my hot, hot, sex
Yelle - À cause des garçons
Depeche Mode - Everything Counts
Morningwood - Nth Degree
Brazilian Girls - St.Petersburg
MIA - Paper Planes
Luscious Jackson - Here
Hard-Fi - Tied up too tight
John Butler - Better than
Amerie - One thing
Telepopmusik - Breathe

An hallelujah

Over the weekend we went to a funeral. Two of my BFFs are married to brothers, and their husbands' father passed away. He was only 65, undergoing treatment for cancer, but his death following an unexpected complication was still very quick and sudden.

I am feeling for the families, of course, including their children who lost their beloved grand-papa. I had met the man several times and he was quite nice, if somewhat reserved and unassuming.

But I must say what moved me most was the video and photo montage his son prepared and showed at the funeral. There was the entire life of a human being, a humble and anonymous existence, yet one that was really important and precious for so many people. In a few minutes, we saw a carefree child turn into a young man who loved cars and hockey, turn into a busy father-of-four, turn into a doting granddad. At one point a smiling newlywed, who stood by his wife during 45 years, as their faces softened and wrinkled without losing their spark. A lifetime of memories, expressing the importance of love and family without a need for words.

To me, it was a very clear reminder of the fleeting character of life, how in the end it must seem like one day you're holding a baby, and the next you're holding this baby's own offspring. It felt like an eye-opener, about the importance of living fully and not waiting too long, because you never know how much time you're allowed. About the importance of documenting your existence also, especially in pictures. In the montage, the deceased had at least one special picture with everyone in his very large family. It takes a few seconds to snap, and then it remains forever. When we're all gone, they're what will be left.

His choice of music, (Montrealer) Rufus Wainwright's Hallelujah, will haunt me for a long time.

I take it as a sign that we should never be apart

Last week, while I was being a temporary single mom:

-We had a crazy snowstorm. More than that, it snowed so much over three days that if my wonderful neighbors had not been there to help, I would still be outside shoveling right now. Or alternatively, still trapped inside the house, surviving on powdered milk and tuna cans.
-The kitchen sink drain got clogged.
-I generally slept very poorly.
-There was a Christmas tree, a mountain of trash and a 5-foot high pile of recycling to take out in the cold.
-I needed to deal with a lot of paperwork regarding the taxes of my consulting company, along with back-and-forth conversations with the accountant and the legal counsel. Needless to say while I'm trying to be informed, mindful and responsible about my business, I'm clearly not the one who's good at these things in the house.
-And to top it off, while hurrying to load up some groceries in the car because LP was cold and hungry, I violently knocked my forehead on the side of the trunk, and had a bit of a blackout for a second or two. I thought I was OK and drove home a couple minutes away, but I couldn't get the car into the driveway because of the snow. So I started shoveling like mad in my high-heel boots, with a massive headache, and weird buzzing in my ears. I was crying, LP was crying hysterically in the car which I needed to get off the street ASAP, and suddenly blood started to drip into my eye. I quickly fed LP dinner and we went off to the clinic, where about 40 people were waiting besides us. I was trying to fight off tears, thinking that we would be there for the entire night, that this really was not a place for a toddler, but I was alone, what could I have done? Apparently open wounds were treated in priority though, and we saw the doctor very quickly. They disinfected the wound, closed it up with some glue, and gave me a tetanus shot. Hopefully the scar will not be too visible.

Meanwhile, in Vancouver:

-M's flight was delayed because of the snow and a six-hour trip ended up taking about 11 hours.
-His luggage was lost. How can this ever be possible for a direct flight? His co-worker's luggage was also late but managed to arrive the next day, while his was simply nowhere to be found, until it finally made an appearance a few hours before going back to the airport, all torn and beat up. So he spent his stay there with the little toothbrush and razor kit Air Canada gave him, and his jeans/t-shirt/sneakers combo. He went to meet clients with a hotel uniform the concierge arranged for him!
-He generally slept very poorly, if at all.
-Along with extensive discussions with airline people, he was called in the middle of the night to make a detailed inventory of his missing luggage.
-He broke his most useful, and most expensive camera lens.

Have you ever heard of push presents?

They're the new big fad apparently. What it means is that your babydaddy gives you a big shiny bauble (or alternatively, a expensive handbag) as a "reward" for having given birth to your child. I've heard about it a lot recently (in this article for instance), to the point where it is apparently now ubiquitous. Like, shame on the guy who doesn't show up with a diamond ring in the delivery room!

Seriously? I didn't receive anything (and it's perfectly fine because the present we had was, you know, A BABY), but I do understand the concept of marking the occasion/milestone. Some women, for example, get a pendant with the baby's birthstone, which, after all, is not so different from those Zoppini or charm bracelets people used to wear. You can always pass it along to the child as a heirloom... I think that's fine. It is a very important date, after all. LP's birth remains the greatest day of my life, and although I'm thrilled to be getting married, I don't think it's going to change.

What I don't get is the slightly crass aspect of expecting/demanding one. While carrying a child and giving birth is hard, it's also natural and the way women have always done (without expensive gifts). Yes, in my case, it was tough, and yes, I'm the one whose body has been changed. But no piece of jewelry could make a difference about that. And how many diamond rings do these women need? An engagement ring, a wedding band, then like three rings for children? Their hands are gonna need special insurance after that. Hello, Liz Taylor!

If your husband wants to treat you, that's fine, and sometimes even cute. When some woman cries because she received "the wrong Prada boots" or that another one excitedly shows off her ring to a friend before she presents her the actual baby, that's kind of whack. Another (probably very profitable) marketing ploy by jewelers, that's clear.

But then, engagement rings, especially diamond ones, also originated from a marketing ploy by DeBeers nearly a century ago. And now people don't usually think twice about them. Hell, I'm wearing a gorgeous one myself, and I'm quite happy about it. So maybe push presents are here to stay...

While winter has not been that terrible so far...

I still wish I was in this picture...


...taken at my sis's wedding in August. Old news I know but my mom just showed it to me. Like "Oh right I have something to give you, a good picture of the three of you and we have very few of those since M is usually the one behind the camera, yadda-yadda-yadda..."

And I'm shedding some figurative tears over summer right now.

My family's weddings

My maternal grandparents' wedding, in May 1949. My grandfather told me he had drawn himself a mustache in order to look a little bit older. I'm not even sure he was 18.




My parents' wedding in February 1973. I think this is where my fascination with winter weddings comes from. I was surprised when my mom recently told me that her dress had cost $1,100, which would probably mean more than $10,000 today. She had paid for it herself while working as a secretary at my granddad's office furniture and supply business.


My little sister's fun and emotional wedding, in July 2008. Can you believe she was four months pregnant?

My middle sister's wedding in August 2008. A wonderfully simple and heartfelt celebration.

And we'll be next!!!!!!

RIP, our New York wedding

I am a little sad (but not that sad -don't feel sorry for me, 'coz life's too short-) to report the passing of my New York wedding fantasy. It looks like there will be no tying-the-knot-in-Central Park-followed-by-a-picnic-cocktail-followed-by-a-nice-dinner-on-the-town for us.

Why? It was a chain of events. First, seriously, I can't bear to wait that long (the date was still like 20 months from now, and we've been engaged for 7 months already). I just want to be my sweetie's wife, you know? And I'm not saying that we’ll have another kid for sure (still freaks me out a little bit), but there is also family spacing to consider. There will be no trying to conceive before the wedding (call me shallow but I will NOT wear a maternity wedding gown, I will NOT have my wedding pictures taken while I carry a 50 pound weight surplus, and I will NOT get married with an infant I need to nurse every hour and a half), and although I never wanted kids very close together, if we have another one I would prefer a) not to be much older than 35, and b) that LP is not in high school already. There's no way to predict how it would go, but it took me forever to get pregnant the first time, so… Not that the clock is ticking that hard and this is not even in the plans right now, but better safe than sorry.

Second, this economic crisis has made us think. I know it will take the blame for a lot of random things but it made us even warier about spending such a big amount of money (however small a wedding budget this is) on a single day. Rainy day saving has never made more sense, especially since I have little job security. And it made us feel bad about the expenses our guests would have needed to incur to spend the weekend in NY with us, no matter how much they love us and would have done it anyway. Because everyone has their own situation and things will likely get worse in the next year and a half or so.

And third, because while in NY we realized that our budget was simply grossly unrealistic. And this is from someone who thought she had been crazy prudent and had applied a large safety margin to everything. You can think outside the box all you want, but that city is NOT budget-friendly, even for someone who taught she knew it well and expected it to be so! I'm sure if I put extensive work and effort into it might have been possible to arrange something, but still. How much can you compromise? I never thought we would have the reception at the Plaza, but we don't really want to take our guests to an obscure basement place with no decor and plastic patio chairs either. At some point you need to admit defeat, and we decided to do that instead of risking going over budget with everything from transportation to my hair and makeup to the officiant. Bottom line is it's not that we could not afford a more elaborate wedding, but we simply refuse to put that much money into it.

We discussed it a lot and we both agree on this: our favorite wedding was when a couple of friends had a completely laid-back outdoor ceremony at their parents' cottage, with a dinner cooked by the bride's uncle. It wasn't fancy (although it wasn't a barefoot thing either, you know what I mean), but it was as fun and as authentic as it gets. Then, they splurged on an incredible two-week adventure-of-a-lifetime Bali honeymoon, which probably cost more than the wedding itself. I don't know, it just seemed to me like they had set their priorities straight, and although it would not have worked for everyone, they dared to make it work like they wanted to for them. We also both agree that we want to be married much more than we want to have a wedding. People around us view us as married already. We’ve been living together in our house for four years, and we have a child. I mean, I perfectly understand all the rituals and traditions involved in getting married, but all we want is to make this official. I am definitely very interested in the subject, I love looking at inspiration and other brides' ideas and projects just like the next gal, but in the end it only makes me realize that I don't need to do things like everybody else, and most importantly that I don't WANT to do things like everybody else.

So we ARE still getting married, and most probably before the date we had previously set. We're not sure how and when however. It might be something like actually getting hitched at a City Hall somewhere (only the three of us and with little fanfare) and then just throwing a party back home a few months later.

Considering what we both DON'T want (a church ceremony, a MC/DJ, dancing, various traditional wedding rituals, long toasts, a big cake, etc.) made me realize that what I actually envision is… a rehearsal dinner! I know it might seem strange, but that formula appeals to me much more than a traditional wedding itself! It's actually exactly what I would like: a nice, festive dinner, with everyone nicely dressed-up but not over-the-top, nice and stylish although simple decor, awesome ambiance, good food and booze, and great (background) music.

We also both like the idea of a cocktail party a lot (M's office Christmas party was at a great local wine bar, and he was utterly impressed by how cool and different it was, so we'll maybe check it out), as long as it is also kid-appropriate…

Back to the drawing board!

New start

Back to work this morning. I'm always sort of excited at this time of year, as much as I like the Holidays there's something very positive and appealing about this kind of starting over again. Stopping the overeating and going to bed too late thing, storing things away, cleaning, organizing, going back to my workout schedule, finding comfort in my routine (with still hopefully a few surprises and twists), embracing new projects. We have two this January, both related to our son: 1-transforming his nursery into a little boy's room (M, who once upon a time made his beautiful crib from his bare hands (did I ever tell how much I love having such a handy man around?), will now work on a new toddler bed, and we will create a new play area), and 2-planning a party! He's turning 2 on February 2 (his lucky year I guess), and I'd like to have a fun celebration with all the children around us.

M is off to Vancouver (still in Canada, but a six-hour westbound flight from here) for work in a couple of days, and will be skiing in Whistler this Friday. While, you know, I go to work, make dinner and change diapers. Both are totally equivalent. I'm not jealous at all.

In case you're wondering, New York was really great, in its usual exhaustingly fun whirlwind way. As crazy as the city is, it always makes me feel like I've recharged my batteries. Strange! We had not been since June, and it was the first time I got to see Manhattan during the Holidays. Even though it was already New Year's Day and pretty much at the end of the festive season, there was still a magical feel to the city... LP, who's been obsessed with taxi cabs for months, was in heaven!

At the skating rink in Bryant Park (where, incidentally, the rarely seen photographer and I got engaged in May! )

Being in New York made us realize different things about the wedding and we've taken some fairly important decisions. So I have news, pretty big ones. Which I will gladly talk about... later!

Mascara is discussed: guys may find this post boring

Boy, do I love to receive free stuff so I can talk about it on this blog!!! After a whole boxful of chocolates last summer, this wonderful make-up kit from L'Oreal arrived at my door a few days before Christmas:

I was meant to test a new mascara, called Double Extension Beauty Tubes (I received two samples, in red and white). The kit also included eyeliner, an eyeshadow brush applicator, and liquid eyeliner. Enough to make a girly girl like me very happy!

I usually buy all my skincare and make-up products from Clinique, which is not sold in drugstores, but is still one of the least expensives (and great) department stores brand. I have been very loyal to this brand for years, but I still do sometimes cheat a little. There are usually three things I buy at the drugstore (or grocery store): eyeshadow, eye concealer, and... mascara. I must admit though I don't think I had ever bought anything from L'Oreal: I usually go towards brands like Maybelline, Cover Girl or Rimmel London. I find mascara to be a little tricky because it's hard to get one that doesn't clump, looks natural, is contact lens-friendly, resists winter weather (no one wants that racoon look after spending a few minutes in the snow) and most important of all, washes off easily.

Anyways, I tried the mascara, which is a two-step process. You first apply a white base coat that lenghtens and thickens your lashes, then you apply the black finishing coat. I have long lashes already, so I didn't really need to make them appear longer. With this product though, they do look thicker and more present. The name seems well chosen as it does look like you had lash extensions installed! I liked the effect and will gladly continue using the samples I received. I wanted to add though that I did think the application was a little bit fussy, and I'm not sure I'm going to go through the two steps everyday (because I already have long lashes, I think the black coat will be just fine most of the time).

Just as promised, the mascara is simple to remove, although I use make-up removing lotion, not water as the package suggests. I have to say that it is easier to take-off than the more expensive Clinique one I had before.

So since a picture is worth a thousand words, here's my Christmas Eve dolled-up look. I used all the products I received and followed the instructions provided to create smoky eyes. I liked the results very much!

My New Year resolutions

1- Chill
2- Chill more
3- Spend more couple time with M
4- Finally shed those pesky last post-pregnancy pounds (Yeah I know my son is almost 2, I've got no excuses!!! This is the third time it appears on my list)
5- Figure out a way to maybe make some money with my (non-IT-related) writing
6- Take wedding planning more seriously (what do you mean there's more to do than look at blogs and magazines?) while still not taking it so seriously that it will take over our lives
7- Now that our job is mostly done, try to make LP get a job at the coal mine and move out by the end of the year.

Happy New Year everyone!!!