Bump suitable fashion

I had LP in February, so most of my maternity clothes are of the fall/winter variety. When I opened up my box, I found all kinds of oversized woolen sweaters and such, which means I’ll be covered for my last two months (and will probably be slightly depressed by these boring, shapeless clothes), but don’t have much for before that. Things have changed a lot in 4 years, and I’m more determined than ever to look good all through my pregnancy, for my own self-esteem more than anything else. I know I’ll be big and it will be difficult, but I’m well aware that putting on great clothes works wonders to one’s morale.

Of course, some maternity clothes are essential; normal pants and especially jeans just won’t do, however small you are. So my plan is not to wear only normal clothes, but just to broaden my horizons and think outside the box a little. So I’ve covered my bases: I have two pairs of maternity pants from my first pregnancy, one black and one beige, which will be work-appropriate once the temperature cools down. And while we were in NY for Easter, M bought me the coolest jeans I’ve ever owned (skinnies!) at A Pea in the Pod, telling me it would make me feel better. Well, it did. Every time I wear them, someone asks: "Wow, you still fit into your regular jeans?" which I take as a really good sign.

I was also looking for black capris online and couldn’t find anything, until I decided to venture into this new super cute indie maternity shop near my office, and they had exactly what I wanted, only one pair left that fit me like a glove. Score. They don’t have a belly panel so they won’t work until the end, but hey, they’re summer pants, so I don’t ask them to.

I will definitely return and try to patronize this shop again, if only because the ambiance was so cool (women sitting on the floor with their babies, drinking tea) and because they have Hot Milk nursing lingerie, which is so exquisite I swear it might get a few women pregnant just so they can wear it. It’s expensive, and I’m sure a lot of people don’t see the point in spending so much for something no one will see, but I beg to differ. After I gave birth I bought two nursing bras, by far the ugliest ones I have ever owned. I wore them DAY AND NIGHT, 24/7, for four months, people. Four months during which your breasts are the center of your life. I hated them, but thought there was no alternative. So if you can have something that makes you feel good, and pretty, and not too much like a cow during this time when you basically are one, I think they’re absolutely worth it. Plus I don’t have my old ones anymore. After about 6 months (I was still breastfeeding but less frequently so I decided to manage with my regular bras), I ripped them apart and threw them in the trash, suddenly jealous of the 70s feminists who used to burned them. "But what if we ever have another kid?," M asked. "I think I’ll fuc*ing deserve a new bra then" was my answer.

Other than that, I’m trying to find non-maternity options. Summer is easier I suppose, because you can simply do lots of dresses and skirts. Not all styles work, obviously, but you can find plenty of fab regular ones that will fit. Dresses should either have a high/empire waist with just some give in the front (or alternatively can have no waist at all), and they tend to fit a bump better and be more comfortable if made in a jersey or other non-stiff fabric. I examine the pieces closely for sizing: sometimes my regular size will work and give me room to expand, or sometimes I just take one size up.

Regular skirts can also work, although probably not until the end of the pregnancy. It’s all about the waist. It should not be binding and stiff, but preferably lower, looser, softer, and with a fold, elastic or such. For instance, I just bought two skirts (in large instead of my usual medium) from Joe, which is a fabulous inexpensive, unassuming brand sold in supermarkets here, but secretly designed by the Canadian fashion powercouple behind other lines such as Club Monaco and trendy homewares stores Caban. I buy tons of stuff for both LP and me there, and pregnancy wasn’t going to stop me. The one on the left in the picture, which I got in white, has a drawstring, and the other one has an elastic waist and is meant to be worn lower. They were $16 a piece and will certainly take me into the fall.


Tops are the easiest normal thing to buy, especially since for a few years long and/or flowy ones have been in fashion even among the non-pregnant. The stores are full of them! Another strategy: leggings with everything. I don’t really wear leggings usually. I’m not sure why: first, I don’t have great legs and I’m a little self-conscious of my lower half, second, I once read that if you were around the first time they were in style (which I was), you should avoid them and leave them to the younger girls. But I changed my mind when we met Rebecca Woolf in LA, then six months pregnant, looking amazing wearing nothing but leggings and a cute, longer eighties top with flats. This look is the most comfortable ever. So I’m doing it now as well, with hip-hugging tops or pieces that really blur the line between being long tops or short dresses (I want my butt and thighs covered)… Again, Joe is a great source for that. I got this periwinkle crisp cotton tunic with cutout embroidery for basically nothing, and along with my black H&M leggings and blue open-toe cork wedges it’s become one of my favorite outfits.

Accessories you can also still do to polish an outfit, even while huge! Cute feminine jewelry, killer shades, a nice purse make all the difference… I’ll continue wearing heels for as long as I can (I stopped at 6 months with LP, then wore mostly flats and comfy wedges), but also have several pairs of pretty embellished flats (ballet + sandals) for our upcoming Italian vacation… I may also complete the shoe wardrobe with these adorable retro sneakers you see on the girl at the right of the picture above…

Great, my husband is 14

Coming to hug me while I'm cooking.

Him: I love you.

Me: I love you too. I'm not sure though, whether you're telling that to me or to my new (and alas, temporary) big boobs...

Him: Sorry, you were saying? I was way too distracted by your big boobs.

These are a few of his favorite things

LP loves to talk and anwser questions... He always wants me to ask him what he likes and he prefers. He has an opinion about everything... So I thought it could be fun to document these, and perhaps make it a yearly post, just to see his progression and how much he has changed. As per the suggestion of this mommyblogger, I think the next step will also be to ask him what he thinks are my and M's favorite things. That should be quite funny!

So here is what my son, now 3 years and 4 months old, likes:

Favorite sweater? The "old truck" t-shirt (he chose it from the J.Crew catalog, then patiently waited 10 days for the package to arrive).

Favorite pants? The ones with the skeletons on them. (This kid likes J.Crew).

Favorite movie? Cars. (No surprise there. If you haven't seen it, Cars is good. And funny. And not irritating to watch over and over again).

Favorite car? Aston Martin. (Well excuse me).

Favorite TV show? Top Gear (which probably explains his latest answer).

Favorite sport? Golf.

Favorite golfer? Tiger Youds. (Let's not tell him and burst his bubble shall we?)

Favorite football team? The Alouettes (local CLF team), and the Patriups.

Favorite toy? Cars and trucks (no kidding).

Favorite book? The ones with the pirates. (?)

Favorite kind of food? Indian (I'm not making this up).

Favorite meal? Spaghetti.

Favorite fruit? Er, I don't know... Perhaps, watermelon...

Favorite vegetable? Broccoli! Yum! (I swear I did not add that).

Favorite dessert? Peach-mango ice cream. (Well, more like peach-mango anything).

Favorite song? "Pow it" (that would be Pheonix' 1901) and "Nigh godda be a goot nigh" (that would be the Black Eye Peas' I gotta feeling).

Favorite city? New York (That's my boy!)

Favorite country? England (That's my boy!)

Navel gazing

Now 14 weeks, I have a good-old, still flabby, beer gut. People who know me can probably guess that I'm pregnant, because I always tend to gain weight on my butt and especially thighs, and not at all in my midsection (plus I'm suddenly chesty!), but to other people, I just look like I've let myself go a little. The last time I was really looking forward to it being obvious that I was expecting, but since it quickly went out of control after that, this time I'm careful what I wish for.

Despite my bump being far from gigantic, several people (especially women) have already told me that I had a "boy belly". Seriously! They were all really confident in their assessment, assuring me that this old-wife's trick never fails. They say I already look like I'm going to carry low and on the front, with a narrow pointy belly, instead of carrying higher and wider.

I never say anything (and actually, we're kind of assuming that we are in fact expecting a boy after our latest scan), but I find it so funny... I got it all the time while pregnant with LP too, strangers in shopping malls stopping me to ask if I was carrying a boy, then saying: "I knew it!" triumphantly...

I don't believe in this, at all, as you may have guessed. It's not that I want to be an über-rational party pooper, but I still can't believe people give these myths a second thought, much less so assume them for facts. There are other ones as well, like swinging your wedding ring over your belly to determine the gender, and stuff like that (but what happens if, god forbid, you're not married like it was the case for us when we had LP????) They can never explain it, of course, just saying that it ALWAYS works!

I was sort of open to believe it, but as much as I tried and tried to find a reason why the sex of your baby could change your expecting shape, I just couldn't. It doesn't make ANY sense... Here's what determines the shape of your belly: first and most importantly, the mother's body type, shape and muscle tone. If your abs are tights, you'll carry higher, and since these muscles can become looser (sigh) as you grow older or go through several pregnancies, this can explain why some women carry different children differently. If you have a shorter torso, you'll tend to carry wider, simply because the uterus cannot really stretch upwards... My sister and I had completely different bumps, even though we were both having boys: I'm 5'6, with a smaller waist, biggish hips but not much of a belly, and she's 5'3 and naturally curvier, with a larger waist, pelvis and slight paunch, which means she only really started showing at about 19 weeks and carried wider...

The other factor is the position of the baby and the uterus, which can also vary from women to women and from pregnancy to pregnancy, and this also explains how you can end up with different bumps... It does look like I'm going to carry the same way I did the first time, because that's how my body is made! Of course I started showing very early, since my small waist means there was basically no room for my growing uterus to go but push forward immediately (and my abs were apparently never that tight to begin with)...

I still think these guessing games are fun, if a bit wacky. I mean, the reason why people keep believing in them is that of course it will often work out: they naturally have one of out two chances of getting it right! Extremely favorable odds in any case, which probably contribute to the perception of infallibility.

La vie en rose

Last week I had an early morning dentist appointment, after which I expected to go right to work. But it ended up being longer than expected, and after, I was exhausted and barely able to talk, my mouth completely sore from the anesthetic. I knew I wouldn't be able to eat much all day, which is kind of problematic with the pregnancy, and I was feeling a little bit poorly. So I decided to take the rest of the day off, which happens, you know, next to never. I ended up taking care of a few things, munching on soup and applesauce, but mostly vegged in front of the TV (which happens, you know, next to never).

And I finally got to watch the Edith Piaf biopic La vie en rose, for which actress Marion Cotillard won the Oscar two years ago. I had tapped it in early January, and believe it or not since then had not found a single occasion where I could sit down for more than two hours by myself and watch without distractions.

I know it's all old news but my, was it worth the wait. The movie was very emotional and great (if you like impressionism more than realism), her performance was breathtaking, but more than anything I was completely blown away and fascinated by the life of the famous French singer. I knew her songs, of course, but could have never, ever expected that she had such an extraordinary, full, peculiar life.


She was born in 1915 practically in the streets of Paris, from dirt poor, uneducated, bohème parents, and mostly raised by her paternal grandmother, who ran a brothel. The prostitutes were her maternal figures, taking good care of her. She was practically blind for a few years as a child, but then recovered (it was apparently keratitis, which is considered benign today and highly treatable). As a teen she lived on the road with her circus acrobat father, and first started performing during this time. She had a child at 17, whom she unsurprisingly barely cared for (the father seemed to do a good job though), her mind only focused on singing. The little girl died of meningitis at 2...

Her talent was discovered at 20, and her claim to fame began. During all of her prolific professional years (until 1959), she met, was involved with, slept with, etc., the most dizzying array of artists and personalities I have ever seen. She worked with Jean Cocteau, launched the career of Yves Montand (who was her lover for a while), befriended Charles Aznavour and spent a few years with George Moustaki... She was married twice, the first time with a crooner named Jacques Pills (with Marlene Dietrich as her witness), the second time with an unknown singer 20 years her junior. She spent a lot of time in the US, where she triumphed and became an household name, appearing in the Ed Sullivan Show eight times and performing at the Carnegie Hall twice.

The biggest love of her life was a French boxer named Marcel Cerdan, with whom she had an extremely passionate year-long affair while she was living in the States. He was married with three children, and she had apparently no intention of ever asking him to choose. He died in a plane crash while coming to see her, and she never recovered from her extreme, debilitating grief. She already had drinking problems (she was involved in at least two major alcohol-fueled car crashes), but she then also became severely addicted to morphine, which precipitated her downfall. She went to rehab at least four times, but could never really kick the habit.

She died in 1963 at the age of 47, looking every bit like a frail and ill woman in her eighties (I guess hard drinking and drugs will do that to you). She had liver cancer and a ruptured aneurysm. Are you also out of breath?

A captivating destiny anyway, even though despite the glamor certainly not an easy one... She seemed to define the proverbial tortured artist type. She was an icon, and remains so even today...

Nostalgic/contemplative tunes

Sometimes I let myself drift into sweet nostalgia... And during these times only a certain type of atmospheric-bordering-on-the-verge-of-sad music will do. The universes and subtext contained into each of these just plainly kills me.

The Stone Roses - I wanna be adored

I don't have to sell my soul; he's already in me...

Coldplay - Don't panic

We live in a beautiful world...
All that I know
There's nothing here to run from
Coz' yeah, everybody here
Has got somebody to lean on

+44 - A little death

Fall asleep with the windows open
Come to me with the worst you've said and done
You'll close your eyes and see me
A little death makes life more meaningful
I stand no chance at all

Oasis - Rockin Chair (Not super quality, but nothing else is available)

I'm older than I wish to be
This town holds no more for me
All my life, I tried to find another way
I don't care for your attitude
You bring me down, I think you're rude
All my life, I tried to make a better day
It's harder now being alone
Sitting here by the phone
Waiting for my memories to come and play
It's harder now sitting there
Rocking in your rocking chair
It's all too much for me to take
When you're not there

(Say what you will. These crazy Gallagher brothers really had a knack for lyrics.)

The wonderful feeling of everything falling into place...

Last week I had a too-rare dinner-on-the-town night out with my girlfriends... And it was awesome. That's true friendship to me: no matter how long it was since the last time we saw each other, we can pick up wherever we left off and it feels like it was yesterday. Female bonding is amazing, and it's strong. I value their experiences as wives, mothers, daughters, and sisters above everything else, and it felt great being able to talk about my feelings wholeheartedly, and be reassured that I'm not alone.

But the best part might have been the hour spent at one's house before dinner, and entering into her family's day-to-day universe. Their home is beautiful, lively, full of love, showing the signs of a busy family, but without being overtaken by chaos. The kids (5 year-old girl and 3 year-old boy) are cute, adorable, active but well-behaved, and just seem happy and well-adjusted. Her husband, who's a great cook, was finishing dinner in the kitchen while listening to music, then called the kids who sat down without a fuss and ate pasta with shrimp and feta... Everything was just so mellow and great.

And this might have been exactly what I needed. I could just breathe in their quiet happiness and somewhat more settled stage, as they've pulled through the tougher two-kids-in-two-years period. The youngest is recently potty-trained, they are more autonomous and always playing together (even at daycare)... They do fight, but mostly adore each other. And I thought: wow, we can do this. We're doing this, and hopefully that will be us in a few years... It's wonderful.

I came back late, especially for a weeknight, and was greeted at the door by my husband who was really happy to see me, and proceeded to tell me the complete plot of this week's Lost, as he always does (I stopped watching two years ago, but thanks to him never really skipped a beat). I went to kiss LP goodnight, and he woke up just enough to tell me all about his exciting day (they had gone to the car dealership and gotten a new replacement car while ours was being serviced!, then had eaten at a restaurant!, then had gone to the little neighborhood toy store!, and then when they came back home there was a package in the mail for him and it was a book with all the countries in the world and there were pictures of burgers and pigs in it (the kids atlas I ordered from amazon)! After all his chatting, he told me he was so happy I was back, wished me good night, and went right back to sleep.

I finally went to bed myself, M with his big warm hand on my belly, exhausted but suddenly immensely at peace with things, with our future. And I believe that my last thought was: good night little baby, mommy and daddy and your big brother are excited to see you...

The delicate topic of mother/daughter relationships

I love my mother. I really do. She's amazing and I wouldn't change her for the world. She does SO MANY things for me, for us (she's treating us to an anniversary dinner in a nice restaurant this weekend, which she booked herself, *and* she's also babysitting, so I mean, isn't that the sweetest thing?), and I'm extremely grateful for that. But sometimes she also has a way of pushing my buttons and that makes me act like the worst daughter ever. Probably not the ideal thing to do on Mother's Day...

It started when she arrived with a "surprise" for LP. I expected toys, or books, or candy, or even clothes, maybe? But no, it was a dreamcatcher, one of these bizarre native crafts that you're supposed to hang besides your bed for "protection". OK, I didn't say anything, but already had two strikes against this. First, as I've told you already, my mom's grandma was native. Her husband was French-Canadian of Scottish origin, however, and she never lived or raised her children in the traditional way. There was a bit of a stigma with being native at the time (it's unfortunately probably still the case), and it's something she (my grandma Elise), my grandmother, and even my mom and aunts always downplayed, as if it were somewhat shameful.

Now, obviously it shouldn't have been! I'm proud of this heritage (as I am of the other ones in my mosaic/family tree: German, Irish, Scottish, French...), but at the same time, I don't feel the need to wear it on my sleeve all the time. I have nothing against it, but I find it's still a sensitive issue here, and as a blue-eyed, strawberry blond woman who only has a folklore knowledge of this culture, I feel it's not my place, and could be construed as totally insulting to real native people who lived through quasi-extermination, extreme hardship and enduring discrimination. My mom thinks otherwise, and that's fine. But I have to admit I find it a little annoying that a few years ago, she had an epiphany of sorts when she suddenly went from one extreme to another. I think it's great that she's found renewed pride in this heritage, but I still view it as a bit of a shallow and misplaced interest, like one you can boast to the French tourists (who for some obscure reason are often enthralled with native culture and probably to a certain extend think we all still live in tee-pees). There, I've said it. (I know that's mean.)

My second strike is against the object itself, which is really just a tacky tourist trap. It's ugly and overpriced, and surrounded by a sort of mysticism and New Age dust I loathe. It originally belonged to the tradition of one specific tribe (the Ojibwe), who lived far, far away from here (grandma Elise was Montagnais), but somehow became ubiquitous and super commercial. Hence, it's not even authentic or meaningful to our specific native culture, but it's still crassly marketed as such, because it sells.

I can't hide my feelings very well and my disagreement was certainly showing, but I still didn't want to disappoint my mom by saying something. It's not that I didn't appreciate the gesture, and I have manners, you know, of course when you receive something it would be incredibly rude and ungrateful to tell the giver that it's bad and you hate it! (The even better thing would be not to even *think* that it's so bad in the first place, but hey, I'm trying to be honest here). However, my mother kept on insisting, and insisting, and then told me she wanted to give it to LP while explaining to him that it would "protect him during the night from bad dreams and bad spirits."

So I couldn't hold it anymore. First, he doesn't need to hear this two-cents spiritual nonsense, which probably has nothing to do with the genuine tradition anyway. I'm respectful of, and interested in, non-extremist religions, but our stance is still clear: we're non-believers, and this awfully smelled like beliefs to me. I ask people to respect us in that like I respect them. But even with that taken aside, I couldn't believe she wanted to tell that to LP. Who's not only a natural bad sleeper (like his parents), but also a very sensitive and anxious kid. At this moment, I saw myself as a little girl, spending hours awake at night being absolutely frightened by something meaningless (from an adult's perspective) someone had said. I can't blame her for not understanding that and not being really sensitive; it's not something you choose to be or not to be. But the fact that she really didn't know how to deal with me in that regard was still tough at times growing up, and since I understand how LP feels, I can do otherwise. I totally realize that you can't shelter your kids from everything, but you don't have to go out of your way to give them a hard time either.

While LP still wakes up a few times a night, we're going through a good phase where he falls asleep on his own without much fuss, and goes back to sleep easily and peacefully as soon as he's reassured with our presence. But I know he's still quite vulnerable to things he sees and hears, and at this age they can be very easily upset with "monsters" or "ghosts" or nightmares or the like. He doesn't think that he needs to be "protected" from anything during the night now, and I just didn't think it was a good idea to sow the seed in his head that he could. The initial message can be super positive, but for the sensitive/anxious mind it doesn't work like that: you won't think, good, this thing will protect me, but rather, why do I need protection? What is out there that wants to get me? What should I worry about? I know LP is not me, and I'm not in his head, and perhaps it could have been fine. But I also know that in my case, this probably would have been the start of long-term, crazy worrying and fear of being alone at night and sleep problems that persist to this day.

So at this point it became more important to me to possibly prevent another crisis of the fire alarm scale, than to prevent ruining Mother's Day. So I did.

And I feel really bad. My completely well-meaning, excited mother was crushed, and probably even felt humiliated. She adores him, her intentions were good, she was only trying to make him feel more secure, and I can't expect her to understand all these subtleties. My husband couldn't believe I had told her, in front of everyone (even though I really tried staying discreet), there was no way she was giving that to our child and especially no way she was telling him that story. He said that I need to really let go of my childhood issues at this point and let her be. That if it would have been someone else, I probably wouldn't have said anything (which is correct). That the only right thing to do was to let her give him the thing and the explanation, and hope that he wouldn't really have paid attention. That sometimes, standing up to your principles was plainly stubborn, not clever or right, and that I should choose my battles more wisely. That it's only the beginning of a ton of upsetting/disturbing/wrong c*ap he'll hear at daycare or at school and bring home for us to deal with. And he's right. (Except I still think it would have scared him).

When things like that happen, I always feel like I'm such a disappointment for my mother. I can't help being who I am and being different, but... Why I am always the person who seems to go out of her way to make her job (as a mom and a grandma) harder and much less fun?

(Brutal honesty requested, please. I decided to post about this because I kind of need a bit of perspective...)

Holiday: booked!

I haven't been back in Europe since 2001, and M since 2004. Ever since we got together we've been planning on going together, but it never worked out: new jobs the first year, then pregnancy, then a baby... I miss it dearly and decided that it's THE year or else: LP is big enough for it to be manageable and fun, the exchange rate for the euro is extremely favorable right now, I'm not huge yet... Next year we're embarking on another round of babyhood, and the next thing you know, we'll be retired folks annoyingly talking about our 50-year-old European memories.

So there you go. Two weeks in Europe next month for everyone! The fourth month probably is the optimal time to travel during pregnancy: you have renewed energy, no more queasiness, and you're not that uncomfortable... I'm so excited!

We first planned on going to England and Scotland, where I have several blog friends I can't wait to meet (LP was really looking forward to riding in the red buses in London and taking the Eurostar), but unfortunately it's just too damn expensive (why?). So we started looking at other places that were easy (no layovers) and affordable, preferably ones neither of us has ever been to, which was no small feat.

But we found one!

The first glimpse of kiddo 2.0

Yesterday was our prenatal sonogram/blood drawing, which you're supposed to do between the 12th and 14th week to assess your chances of having a baby with Down syndrome. They get it right at 93%, which we're comfortable with... Since this time I'll be 35 when the baby is born though, my doctor did present me with the amnio option, because this is the threshold age when your chance of losing the baby through the procedure equals your chances of having a baby with the syndrome (minimal, but oh-so-full-of-consequences probabilities in each case). Unless the results come back with a somehow more elevated chance than normal, I prefer not to go through with the amnio...

The sonogram was great, with the baby trying hard to impress us by doing several high jumps (we never saw LP do that), moving its hands, turning, and kicking. We saw its teeth, heart, bladder, spine... It measures 6.7 cm, compared to 8.4 cm at the same scan with LP, who was however a week older. From the sonogram, the nuchal translucency looked good (at this stage it's a marker of the syndrome), although we will have to wait for the blood test results to have a better idea.

Based on my last period alone, my doctor estimates that I'm currently at 12 weeks. The thing is I have short cycles, so this method doesn't work for me. I ovulate earlier than most women, so based on my own calculation of the conception date, I'm rather at 12 weeks and 4 days. My doctor is great but he just shrugged this off, in the slightest paternalistic way. I guess it's just that a lot of women clearly have no idea of these things... I really insisted and made my point though, and so he conceded that we would go with whatever this sonogram would tell (it was done at a private clinic, instead of by him like the last one). And well, not only the technician believed that I was more ahead that my doctor's calculation, but she actually estimated that I was at 13 weeks and 1 day! So I guess my doctor will listen now, but I still stick with my own date, because otherwise this would mean the baby was conceived on the 7th day of my cycle! I mean, they're short, but not THAT short. But given that LP was born 9 days ahead, I guess this makes the possibility of having a December baby less and less likely. I may stop working one week earlier than I planned, just in case...

We asked her opinion on the sex, and even though it seemed less definitive than the last time, she said... Well, it doesn't look like shopping for pink was ever in the cards for me! It's too early to be certain at this point though, so we'll know for sure in early July.

{Jazz hands!}

{Scary grin?}

{Back flippin'...}

Every long marriage starts with a first anniversary

One year already?






Bon anniversaire, mon amour.

Pregnancy surprises...

I wrote this post when I was about 7 weeks pregnant, for the record, but couldn't publish it for obvious reasons. I just wanted to add that since then, the sickness and the crazy tiredness have somehow eased off, and I'm feeling much better now. I've also generally gotten more comfortable with the idea of going through this again and adding a new member to our family. So don't feel too sorry for me!

**********************
It has been nearly four years since I was last pregnant, and I guess I had forgotten a lot of things… Like how quickly it all starts, for instance. My sister Some amazingly lucky women make it to say fifteen weeks with their stomach as flat as ever, whereas within a week of finding out my midsection had bulged about two inches (yes, we measured), and just like that, my figure was gone. My favorite jeans, purchased only a month before as a reward for having lost nearly 15 pounds since the Holidays, didn’t fit anymore. Sorry if that sounds whiny and selfish and missing the point; I know it is, it’s just that this, plus the overnight doubled-in-size-always-hurting boobs, the morning sickness (which I never really had with LP and oh my do I understand now), the sudden, completely overwhelming tiredness and the feeling out of it most of the time completely took me by surprise. Other ones include:

The overactive nose

Seemingly overnight, the world has turned into an aggression of smells. A coworker has a box of spiced herbal tea on his desk, probably has been there for months without me noticing. Now I get really queasy just passing by, as I am if someone drinks hot chocolate five desks down. The slightest smell turns my stomach, from people's (good and bad) to garbage to about any food (especially fast food), to the way the floor mat smells at daycare. I’ve stopped wearing perfume, scented lotions and soaps, switched to a scent-free antiperspirant, and my shampoo makes me gag. Why is that? Do you think that in Neanderthal years, pregnant women needed a heightened smell to protect them from eating something that could be dangerous for their baby? It’s not really fun, but I still find it a little fascinating.

The bleeding

No, not that kind of bleeding, obviously. I bleed a little every time I blow my nose, brush my teeth or floss. The last time around, I would call it “vampire flossing”, and it would absolutely freak M out, because blood would actually be gushing and pouring into my mouth. I know the reason for this one: enlarged blood vessels that will keep on expanding to accommodate a much bigger volume of blood (hence the bleeding will probably get worse).

The crazy dreams

I read this is normal and due to your hormones. They started pretty much immediately, as well (as they did the first time). I’m talking about extremely intense, vivid, exhausting dreams I have pretty much every night (such as M cheating on me in my face and laughing at me, fun stuff like that) and I suppose contribute to the tiredness. Which brings me to:

The sleepless nights

Granted, sleep has never been my forte. But it's the same as it was with LP, the minute I get pregnant, the minute I lose my ability to sleep through the night. My pattern is like this: 8:45, I crash into a coma-like state that lasts between 4 to 5 hours, if I'm lucky. Then I gradually regain conscience, being more and more aware of my surroundings, until I'm still just as tired but wide awake, unable to unwire my brain. So I toss and turn, my mind racing, writing posts in my head or spending hours being noxious at the thought of this salad I had three weeks ago. Note to anyone who wants to invite me over: I'm usually pretty easygoing, but please don't serve me romaine with pickled beets and marinated wild mushrooms for the next little while. (Thank you.) Then, between 4 and 5, I knock myself unconscious again, usually about 20 minutes or so before the alarm goes off. Which means I just don't get up to exercise, and wake up too late, all disheveled and groggy. I have found one thing that helps somehow: turning my alarm clock against the wall. Very basic but I seem to be better at falling back to sleep if I'm clueless about the time I have left.

Anything similar/different in your case?

Preschooler logic, and, arem, talent

Here was my Mother's Day present... Since he really can't keep a secret he told me all about it while he was making it, and I can tell you that it took a good part of last week. My motherly heart nearly exploded with handmade-wonky-craft pride.



Trying to find an nth excuse to coax us into his room after bedtime: "Mom! You have to come! It's my heart..." Me, reading in bed, not budging, trying hard not to laugh: "What is it with your heart then?" "It's just beating... all the time!"


A few days ago while we were having diner outside on the patio:

LP: "Why are the birds chirping so loud?"
Me: "Maybe they're baby birds... They're in the nest and they're hungry so they're calling out to their mama, shouting: "Feed us!""
LP, slightly worried: "But where is their mama then?"
Me: "She probably went out to get them some food..."
LP: "Ah, right. At the birdy store."
Us, simultaneously choking and laughing: "The birdy store? What's a birdy store?"
LP: "Well, you know, the place where the bird mommy goes to buy some food!" (He was looking at us like we were helpless crazies).
Me: "Where's that birdy store?"
LP, without a split second of hesitation: "In ... (name of nearby town, where we don't go too often but where a lot of shops are indeed located)."
M: "And the bird mommy carries her little wallet under her wing to pay for these groceries?"
LP: "Yes!" (Crazies!)
M: "But what do they sell at the birdy store?"
LP, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world: "Duh, SEEDS!"

No suffering, promised, resources

There's a saying in French which goes: "Il faut souffrir pour être belle" (one must suffer to be beautiful). Which, you know, I buy into up to certain extend (what can I say, I'm a sucker for heels, and will always put style before comfort -that's a little stupid, I know), but also think is a bit ludicrous. Especially when it comes to your beauty routine, which just shouldn't be painful (eyelash curlers scare me, and so does waxing (ouch)).

With that being said, lately my suffering has been more of the mental kind, as I became more and more aware of possible toxicity concerns associated with products, tried to transition towards natural/organic brands, but scrambled to find viable alternatives for everything. In the end, I've come to terms with the fact that in this range your options will always be limited, and that some things are nearly impossible to find: mascara, eye shadow and eyeliner, antiperspirant... But oh well. I can still do my best and comfort myself by saying that my exposure is at least certainly much lower than it used to be, which is especially good with a little one on the way.

Nail polish, for instance. I had simply stopped wearing it. But with the nice weather and open-toe shoes season the longing for pretty painted nails kind of crept back on me. I know that the high VOCs (volatile organic compounds) make it a red flag during pregnancy, especially during the first trimester when all the organs are forming... But I found a brand which toxicity index in the EWG's Skin Deep Cosmetic Safety Database is 1 out of 10 (when a brand like Maybelline Express Finish ranks at 7 and Sally Hansen, 8). It's water-based, odor-free, and they have plenty of beautiful colors, from the traditional to the totally funky!

The brand is called Acquarella, and since I couldn't get it shipped to Canada from their website (argh), I sent them an email. They replied promptly and directed me to an online retailed called Mint & Berry, which does ship to Canada and only offers organic products which EWG database index is 2 or lower. I can't wait to receive and try it. It's supposed to: wash off completely and easily while wet (great if you mess up a nail or spill it somewhere), last much longer than other polishes, and not turn your nails an unsightly shade of brittle yellow.

After some research I also encountered two Canadian-friendly websites: drugstore.com, and well.ca. I've now been using them a couple of times each, for anything from makeup for me to stuff for LP -sunscreen, toothpaste, body wash/shampoo... Both sites are nearly identical: their search function is great, the shipments arrives quickly, no problems with the orders... They both carry all kinds of products, but each has an extensive "Green & Natural" section from which I've been ordering.

Also, someone recently asked me if I had recommendations for shampoo... I like Kiss my Face (great brand, there's a complete line for kids, they also have skincare, makeup, etc.) but lately my greatest discovery has been the Live Clean one, which you can find in drugstores here. It was suggested to me by a friend, and it's great: inexpensive, smells nice, perfect amount of suds, washes off well, leaves hair looking supple and shiny (and not too poufy, which is my main problem). Oh, and it's free of parabens, phthalates, sulfates, silicone and al...

In Ottawa, last week

For those who might not know that, Ottawa is the Canadian capital, located about 2 hours from Montreal in the province of Ontario.

In 1942, Princess Juliana of the Netherlands fled her country and its German occupation, and temporarily settled in Ottawa with her two young daughters (the eldest of whom, Beatrix, has since become the reigning queen). In 1943 she gave birth to her third child, Margriet, at the local Civic Hospital, and the Canadian Parliament voted a special law that enabled her room to be declared an international territory, and not part of Canadian soil. This was necessary for the baby to only inherit the Dutch nationality and hence be entitled to the line of succession.

In 1945, the family returned to the Netherlands, and since then every year the country has been sending thousands of tulip bulbs to the city, as a mark of gratitude and friendship. I always liked this little anecdote, ever since learning about it in school as a child.

At this time of year, more than a million tulips bloom all around the city. It was the first time we went to see them, and I must say it was really, really worth it. The whole city looked and smelled wonderful!

Yes, I'm pregnant

When am I due?

I'm 11 and a half weeks along. My due date is on November 26, which, incidentally, is my nephew's birthday. I know the chances are slim that they are actually born on the same day... But it still looks like many years of combined birthday parties for these two, since there's probably no way both my parents will come to Montreal twice in a matter of a week or so, especially in the winter and so close to the Holidays.

How did I finally decide to have another child?

I couldn't make a decision, actually. Just couldn't. It became quite clear that we shouldn't wait for me to become ready, because I doubt it would have ever happened. But in the end the most important thing to me was that I considered it would be better for LP not to be alone. And even though I always knew having two kids very close together was not for us, I didn't want a huge gap either. I thought in the long run I could maybe regret not having another one, but not really the opposite. So there you go.

Did it take as long to conceive this child as it did LP?

Well, in terms of months, it was a little shorter. But I'm not sure the difference is statistically significant. It was still not an instant thing, long enough for several seasons to come and go. So, I feel totally validated to say to the people who kept telling me I couldn't get pregnant with LP because "I was thinking about it too much" that, mmhh, no. I wasn't thinking about it much this time, but it seems pretty clear it's just that we are an okay fertility match (in the sense that it does work in the end), but not an optimal one. You cannot will or counterwill yourself pregnant, it makes no sense at all.

How did I find out?

At the end of March we had a busy weekend, and my sister and sister-in-law were visiting, so I barely noticed my period didn't come (very similar circumstances with LP). On the Sunday night, I was sort of feeling it already but didn't say anything, unsure if this was psychosomatic. I've been burned by false hopes before, so I have a very prudent approach. On the Monday morning, while sitting down for breakfast, I looked at my iPhone app and told M: "Er, I'm officially late." He never gets carried away and always needs proofs and facts, so he was unfazed. I was two days late and at the 27th day of my cycle at this point, and although this was extremely rare it could have still been a fluke in my normal (25-day) cycles. On the Tuesday evening after work, we stopped over to buy a test. I knew that three days late was pretty much impossible for me. The line was immediately, furiously dark, and I brought it to the living room where he was watching TV with LP, saying: "Congratulations." Now his jaw dropped and he was speechless, as if that was a complete surprise. Duh. The next day was our fifth anniversary. We didn't tell anyone for a while.

Why not?

I was in shock. I know that seems stupid because we were indeed trying but like I said I was hardly focusing on it, and it was all very abstract to me (no one really knew, for one thing). Just a few weeks before we had been talking about it, saying, you know, it's not really working this time again. Maybe we should stick to being a family of three and that's it? We're happy now, we have one, maybe we should leave it at that? So that was our mindset.

For the first few weeks actually I was feeling really down, scared and overwhelmed. I was fearing we had bitten more that we could chew, I had a hard time grasping the reality of the physical aspects I would have to go through, I felt I had to mourn this easier, more fun and balanced era I was experiencing and return to a much more difficult one. You have to understand that I never saw myself with a big family... I was also feeling really guilty towards that unborn child for feeling that. I tried talking about it a little to several people, but quickly learn that you can't do that. People simply don't understand; women are supposed to love being pregnant and having more babies. Everyone were either reacting as if I were speaking a very weird foreign tongue and was crazy, or quickly dismissing these feelings. Which didn't quite help ease the guilt.

Fortunately, this stage has largely passed. Over time, it sort of set in and now seems more normal and doable and real. I didn't want to form an attachment with the baby too early in case something happened, but naturally it did build up over time, and I feel really protective and tender toward this little shrimp now, especially since we saw it. I recently started feeling it furtively, not clear movements obviously but more like little "bubbles" which indicates its activity. And during that time I get all teary when I think that someone else will call me mommy, that we'll bring another little person into this family.

How did LP react?

Wonderfully! I didn't expect him to really understand, or to be this happy, but he really is. Which feels amazing. He's really excited, and talks about "our baby". And that's exactly what I wanted, for him to be old enough to get it and to expect it too and to be "the big brother" instead of still being a baby who doesn't understand and only feels he's being left out (knowing his sensitive/emotional/anxious personality). At nearly 4 when the baby will be born, he'll certainly be able to help and to be responsible and (somewhat) reasonable as we go through the crazy first few months.

Feeling? Boy or girl?

I don't really believe in this. Before finding out I was so sure LP was a girl. Now I sort of view it as a boy, but probably because that's all I know. LP changes his mind every day. And everyone seems to be assuming it's a girl already, which annoys me a little. Like great, I have a 50% chance of disappointing you all.

Have I started preparing yet? Thought about names, etc.?

Nada. Nichts. Niet. I'm not there yet, I can't even bear the thought. We are sort of leaning towards putting the kids in the same room, but that's as far as we went. I haven't been reading books... We haven't even been taking pictures of my belly yet, which we did regularly from the start with LP. It's such a departure from my over-the-top excitement and all-absorbed state with LP... Oh, the unfortunate fate of second children. It's a shame, really.

Am I showing yet?

Well, I guess I don't look pregnant, but I certainly look suddenly very pudgy. A little paunch appeared even earlier this time, almost immediately, and I'm definitely bigger than I was with LP at the same stage, which is really scary! No I mean for real, you should all run for the hills or something. I'm just not one of these tiny cute pregnant ladies, I'm getting huge and my belly is huge. I'm only hoping I won't put on 50 pounds this time. At the beginning, I was fiercely determined, but now I'm just tired and hormonal and my blood sugar is always playing tricks on me, so my willpower has lessened and I've gotten a little more pessimistic towards my odds.

The day has finally come when I can tell you this

Yesterday was a great day...

Instead of going to work, M and I drove to a place that was once familiar but we had not been to in a while. We waited nervously, until they called my name. So we retreated to a cramped private room, where I laid on a paper-covered bed, almost shaking.

And then we looked at a small blurry screen, where a tiny something suddenly appeared, wiggling incessantly. And then a little flicker, regular, strong, fast, mesmerizing. A heart beating.

On addiction

I have been a little troubled since last week a blogger I read reported that her gorgeous and smart 18 year-old son was in the ICU, in a coma, with extensive brain swelling, fluid around his heart, and lung damage from a long period without oxygen... Following a massive drug overdose, and a assault due to a drug deal gone bad.

Ouch. This is the real deal, with shady people and hard street drugs, an extremely harsh and ugly universe, a life totally diverted to revolve around "the next fix", and a family's life totally put on hold out of worry and heartbreak. Only 18. Oh my. There are success stories of such addicts who get a big enough wake-up call and turn their lives around. And probably just as many stories of people who just can never escape this path of self-destruction... For some reason, addiction stories always have a way of touching me deeply. I'm always asking myself why? How? How did they end up choosing this path, why are they are unable to pull themselves together even as they see everything is unraveling around them? The boy is now out of the coma, and seemed to have pulled through for this time. I wish this family well, a lot of courage, especially...

This post where the mother comes out with her "big family secret" is especially touching: I'm sure every parent in this situation must ask themselves what they did wrong... She blames herself for one thing especially: having downplayed her son's early experimentation with drugs as "no big deal," when it was clearly the beginning of his journey into hell. This made me think about my own experiences with drugs, about my parents' attitude towards it, and about what would be the best way to educate our son and react when/if...

I've done drugs, I mean a little, from 14 to 22. Except for the last time, a bad experience with ecstasy, it never made me feel like I wasn't in control, or that it could be a problem. I started smoking a little pot once in a while because my friends did, but it was never a big deal for me. At some point I started thinking that they were smoking too much, so I just stopped, and gradually lost touch with them. And looking back I'm proud of my 14-year old self, naive, vulnerable, emotionally reeling from her parents' divorce, but still knowing her limits and still secure in not doing what didn't feel right. Even as I later had my partying years and did a lot of stupid things (binge drinking, for instance), when it came to drugs I never crossed the lines I had established for myself: never doing anything that you could snort, and even if I considered that occasionally smoking pot at a party was fine, other than that, never trying anything more than once.

Sometimes I think about it and shiver a little and wonder if at one point I could have slipped... Can anyone honestly say that it could never happen? All around me they were people who have and went farther than I did, although I somehow always distanced myself from them at the time, and none of them went through horror stories that could remotely be compared to the one of that poor boy... When I was 14, for a few weeks I had a little boyfriend who sniffed glue during parties, I mean can you imagine the awful, violent, disgusting, full-of-bad-consequences gesture? A few years ago I saw him at a reunion, and was surprised to realize that he had not wasted his life or evidently destroyed too much of his brain cells at all, because he was doing really well... Graduate degree, amazing creative job for the National Film Board, continued to pursue his music hobby, married with an adorable baby girl. Huh. I guess they shouldn't advertise that to teens who are vulnerable to peer pressure...

My parents didn't know any of that, of course. At the time, I positively hated the way they were totally panicked and hysterical towards drugs. I thought it was only conducive to me rebelling and doing more of them. I would have wanted them to relax and trust me more, but in fact I didn't really deserve their trust. Now that I'm a parent, I'm just not sure what the best attitude is... Somewhere between the world-will-end-if-you-try-pot-once discourse and the let-him-do-his-thing-boys-will-be-boys shrug? I do think most kids do wrong things at some point, and I do think that it's somehow part of the process, and that it doesn't mean they won't become competent adults and responsible citizens.

But. There's a definite danger, there's a definite gray zone. It's pretty clear I didn't, and still don't, have an addictive personality. Despite my dad being a pulmonologist (or perhaps because of it), I did smoke some cigarettes as a teen, mostly in social settings. But when the novelty wore off, I stopped (and it absolutely disgusts me today). Why didn't I become hooked, why did this not lead to a lifetime, really hard to break habit like it does for some many others? I like to have a drink, but never have more than two (OK, three on very rare occasions but I then physically feel so bad it puts me off doing it again for a few years).

Is addiction a true disease, completely devoid of responsibility? If you do have an addictive personality (I'm sure you have all known such people and see what I mean), are you simply doomed? It is in our genes, or in our willpower, or in our coping skills, or all of it? How does it all work?

Hehe! My friend Julie would be proud

Do you remember LP's firetruck birthday cake? Well over a month ago on a whim I decided to enter it into Babble's Kids Birthday Cake Contest.

I had completely forgotten all about it but yesterday they announced the winners and let me know that I'm a runner-up! This is totally unexpected, and a wonderful surprise. Pretty much makes my day, actually. So thanks again to my mom and JD, my brother-in-law, because I can't take the credit alone.

There is the entry... I believe this sorts of calls for cupcakes or a similar treat tonight.

(And here's the reference to the title (a wünderbaker), btw).

I'm starting to think I'm getting the hang of this gardening thing

The other morning as I left really early for work, I just couldn't help but be surprised at my garden, like huh, it looks pretty good!



Spring bulbs are weird because you plant them in the fall, and then after winter you can't really remember what you actually planted or know what will be coming out. I plant some new ones each year, and it never really looks exactly the same. The first year I planted all these mixed daffodils, tiny and large, simple and double, white and yellow... They all came out the following spring and it looked lovely... But then the next year, nothing, just tulips. Well this year, after several seasons, some are back, long after I stopped expecting them. Our tulips used to be mostly yellow, but these are pretty much gone, and now everything is red. There was also that one year when we had these really pretty purple ones with white edges... After a couple of years of not seeing them, several grew back again, but only in one specific area near the azalea. Go figure.


While the backyard garden is still not where I would want it to be, over the years we've successfully transformed the front one to a style we like better. Last fall, we took out a row of really ugly, seventies-looking spirea bushes. We got small round balls of boxwood instead, which evergreen look and more airy and modern aesthetic we love. It grows really slowly, so it will take years and years before it takes over like the other plants did. In the meantime, we surrounded them with river stones, and we appreciate the new feeling of space it created.

(The 'Jack Frost', currently covered with beautiful, dainty forget-me-not-like flowers...)

Near my office there's an alley bordered by two rows of crabapple trees, which dark pink blossoms are gorgeous and smell divine. Walking by late last week I was really surprised to see that they were beginning to blossom... Do you remember all the fuss created by these for my wedding last year? How we weren't sure they would be blossoming by May 17? Well, this puts us pretty much three weeks ahead this year. Same with my white lilac, the one which branches I used in my wedding bouquet; I can tell we're just a few days from blossoming. When I first came in to the house it was just a small shrub, barely producing flowers... Now it's gotten quite big, just towering below LP's window. Lucky him... Not sure if I ever told you how profoundly in love I am with the scent of lilac.

Nature always amazes me. We had an extremely unpleasant and unexpected snowfall last week. No, really! On Monday night LP played outside until sundown with "his girls" (our neighbors, 8 and 6 -this is what he calls them) while only wearing shorts and a t-shirt... I laid out my clothes for the next day as usual, choosing a very summery white cotton skirt, a cami and open-toe heels. The next morning as I got out of the house it occurred to me that it was a little chilly, and boy was that rain cold. Five minutes later while driving I was forced to face the harsh reality: it was actually turning to snow, and it continued all day. I had never been so inappropriately and ridiculously dressed in my whole life, I think. Seriously, I thought I might faint from the biting cold, and de-snowing your car with your bare hands? Not recommended! I was fearing for all of our spring plants and flowers, wondering if it could just kill them. But not to worry, year after year when this happens, they are always cut out for it. The next day all was back to normal, spring was in full bloom again, and the garden didn't suffer at all. Phew...

Yes, this will likely be the last Maybelline post in a while...

Giveaway:

And the winner is... Nicole! Please email me your address (email is included in my profile), and the package will soon be on its way... Thank you all girls so much for entering!

Contest:

My contest entry has been posted to Facebook. You can find it in the Maybelline New York - CANADA page (this exact spelling). This was done automatically and I'm not really in love with the layout (all the pictures are at the end, on top of one another, detached from the text) but whatever. I don't find it super easy to navigate but the title is "My Eye Studio look" and your can see the thumbnail of the palette I used on the left. You have to click on "More" to access the actual post and vote (you can vote daily, and you don't have to become a fan of the page or provide an email or whatnot). I would really, really appreciate your vote. When you do, you can choose to also enter a contest to win the makeup case I received. Or not. As you like!