Where has the summer gone?

{Taken at a wonderful organic sunflower oil farm and market store we visited in July}

This week is sunny and really warm, after a few milder, so-so weeks. But it doesn't matter. The signs are slowly beginning to appear. A few leaves starting to change color. Apples being ripe in the trees. Cooler mornings and evenings. Darkness at 8 PM.

LP is starting in a new class at daycare this week. Time goes by so quickly, sometimes I have to pinch myself when I see how big he has become. His new morning teacher is a man (the only one on staff), and his afternoon one is our personal favorite from two years ago, who's been away for a year filling a position elsewhere. I can't stop thinking that there's only one more class after that before school.

The impeding fall definitely reminds me of the imminence of bébé's arrival as well; she should be born before the end of the season/first snowfall...

Do fun stuff!

Today's post is to try and help a longtime blogging friend, Ryan from Pacing the Panic Room. He's launching an album on iTunes, which proceeds go to the research for Smith-Magenis syndrome* (his adorable stepson has it). Awesome kids music that parents will like, and a great cause: please buy it! He's worked REALLY hard on this.





*100% of the proceeds from the sale of this album goes to a grant fund he established with PRISMS. The money will be made available to grad students who wish to make SMS their field of choice, the benefit of this is more hard research being done, which leads to more case studies, which leads to more answers for parents and researchers.

Nesting?

Funny I thought that the "nesting instinct" during pregnancy meant that you had a sudden urge to prepare everything for the baby's upcoming arrival. And I've done... a few things. Like, buying some very pretty fabric (from that collection) to make new covers for my breastfeeding pillow and rocking chair. And... Asking my sister to bring me back some stuff, like the bassinet and my pump. Hey, that's something.

But strangely, what I have been mostly obsessed with lately are home design blogs. Suddenly I want to change everything in the house. I want color and patterns and uniqueness and style and fun! I want to work on LP's room: it's often messy -sometimes we just don't have the energy to pick up after him day after day after day, and it was never really finished as a big boy's room, hence never achieving this lovely cohesive feeling. Then there's our bedroom: we've been wanting to do a big bold damask wallpaper on the back wall for a while, and change our draperies and bed linens for cooler, sexier ones.

But mostly, what I can't stand anymore is our main living/dining area. I sort of like IKEA, but it happens that our two ugliest and blahest pieces of furniture come from there: our generic dining room set, and our sad, sad, tired couch. While the rest of the furniture in there tends to be family keepsakes, quirky antiques and other eclectic finds (we recently bought two mint condition, joint theater seats we absolutely love for 45 bucks), I don't want the look to be too "house of curios" either, and my plan was always to balance these with some strong, statement-making sleek contemporary pieces. But now the two pieces that should have an impact are our worst, and it's not working at all!

Our table is not that bad. It's made of small, thin pale wood strips, and can open up to a good size, so even though it's not great quality we are fine with keeping it. We've however been actively looking for (and arguing over) new chairs to replace the offensive and cheap, country (as in covered in straw) ones we have for several years. We first found big cushy 50's chairs, but they needed to be reupholstered and it seemed too complicated. When my office moved locations, I was supposed to buy a set of OK-looking leather chairs we had in the cafeteria for a song, but at the last minute I was informed that they were going to sell them to an employee who had been complaining since he had been there longer than me, and was permanent (as opposed to my contractor status) instead. I was furious, especially since he immediately turned his back and sold them to someone else for more money. Sometimes we would find 4 chairs that we both liked, but didn't get them since we thought it might be better to buy 6 like we currently have. For some obscure reason M persists in not liking chairs with thin metal legs (I LOVE them), so he vetoed most of what I suggested (for instance we have four of these in gray-blue from my old apartment -and OK, they're a bit worn-, but he doesn't want to use them). His ideal ones would be the Louis Ghost, but at that price, it's not happening. Then, we both liked these from yes, IKEA, and they were a good enough compromise for both of us, but at $129 each we hesitated before shelling $800 on self-assembled chairs and came back home defeated.

Here is my latest lust: that's pretty much exactly how I envision our dream dining room to be (from the September issue of Canadian Style at Home). The table was found on Craigslist, and is original 50s arborite. The chairs are Herman Miller Eames Eiffel, an iconic American midcentury design, but oh my, they still look so perfect and fresh and contemporary. And M even likes them! At $249-$299 a piece, they were out of our budget. But after seeing that I just didn't want anything else.


So the hubby did a little research online to see if we could find nice reproductions. And there were a few: like a place in California which had a wide array of colors, but charged a minimum of $150 in shipping, not including customs and duty fees. Then, we found a place in Vancouver, B.C., which also manufactured and sold them for $119 each. We thought, forget it, even though it's the same country it's just as far as LA, for sure it will also cost a fortune in shipping. But I still decided to send them an e-mail, and I am glad I did. The guy promptly wrote back to tell me that they would gladly send them to our house for free, in four to five business days. Note to self: ALWAYS inquire anyway. You never know what nice surprises you could have.

We decided to start with 4 (after all we don't have visitors every day and when we do, we can always use the Umbra ones) , and got two in white, and two in red (they only had three colors available). We're eagerly waiting for them to arrive, and I let out a little snicker directed at the straw chairs every time I see them, just as a small warning that their days are now counted.

Question marks, and a budding observer

Here is what LP has been wanting to know, lately.

-Why is there water in the ocean?

-Why does he have testicles?

-Followed by: how would he be able to one day make a baby with his testicles?

-Followed by: how did bébé get into my belly?

-Where does the thunder come from?

-What exactly is a monster?

-What happens to the garbage and recycling after it's loaded in the truck?

-Why do the gray clouds mean the weather isn't nice?

-Why is the moon following us at night in the car?

-What does it mean to be dead? (Ouch. Our anwser, which we thought was best for his age and as to not make him develop fears or anxiety towards this: "It means not being alive anymore." Then we quickly brought up something else.)



Actual conversation the night he came back from his week away, after we heard how much fun he had, and how much his grandparents loved being with him:

Us: We're so glad everyone enjoyed your little vacation!

Him: Well, except you!

Us: ?

Him, with slight pity: It must have been so boring without me...



He really loves watching cooking shows (his favorite chef being Curtis Stone, the hunk Australian who basically picks up hot chicks in supermarkets and invites himself in their home to cook). They always get him very inspired to pretend to cook as well, and he can still often be seen in his play kitchen, grating cheese, making espresso, sauteing everything up, making "lime and mustard yogurt", then bringing over his creations for us to "taste".

The other night, while watching this renowned Quebec chef he likes, he turned over to me, slightly dubious. "Well, that's funny... The cooking man (monsieur qui fait la cuisine) just said that he was adding "soy", twice... But, in fact (en fait), what he added was actually "soy sauce"...


I love the little such grown-up additions to his languages he started developing lately, like the "in fact", above. There's also "generally," "finally", and "well," used at the beginning of a sentence, as if he wanted to put emphasis on the fact that the opinion he was about to give has been really weighted out. His vocabulary also keeps expanding and increasing in subtlety: food is not just "good" or "tasty", it's "succulent," and "heavenly." Jokes or situations are not merely "funny," they are "amusing" or "comical." Babies are not "cute," they're "darling." He's not hungry anymore, but rather his "stomach is trembling", and so on.

So... *this* is what you should do when you're pregnant

When we go antiquing, one of my favorite things to find are lifestyle, etiquette, and how-to books from long-gone eras. It's always hilarious to see how customs or advice from the time are now either ridiculous and/or utterly nonsensical. I have a few on different topics (all in French): from very stuffy general savoir-vivre ("no one would even think about writing a thank-you note with a pen which ink is a different color than black; this would be an enormous, shameful faux-pas that might prevent you from ever being invited into that house again"), to courtship ("giving in to your physical urges before marriage would guarantee a lifetime of unhappiness and personal demise"), and child-rearing ("let your baby out in the sun for as long as possible, while only wearing a diaper. Several hours a day would be ideal").


But my favorite one is this, published in 1942 by the Canadian government (in both official languages), about pregnancy, childbirth and infancy. Its message was quite clear: your doctor knows best (I suppose this was a time when, especially outside of cities, women were still a little wary of them). All these books more or less follow the same model of annoying know-it-all-ness, but this one is something else: patronizing as hell, extremely badly written, full of ridiculous self-explanatory pictures...

Here are a few gems from it.

-Expecting ladies were told to "avoid medical books and such readings," because their "too great" complexity could be easily "subject to misinterpretations" from the part of, you know, stupid ignorant women.

-If the woman heard anyone saying anything bad about doctors in general and their doctor in particular, they were told to leave the room. "Anyone criticizing him to you (and at the same time in your condition) lacks discernment to say the least and should not be taken seriously."

{A perfect example of what a "good" pregnant woman should do: sit by the fire with her feet up, knit, drink milk, and read. Actually, even though the picture is followed by a sexist bit about how women should try to "control themselves" and avoid going shopping, I must admit it doesn't sound half bad...}

-You were supposed to wear a corset throughout your pregnancy, but not a regular one (because god knows that would be insane), rather a specially designed one that adapted to your changing shape.

-I understand that you were forbidden from, like, going skiing or riding a motorcycle (I wouldn't do it even today), but other no-nos are a little more puzzling: using a sewing machine, listening to the radio (it could wreck your nervous system, not to mention the "vibrations" could be harmful to the baby), going to the movies or theater ("too many upsetting emotions")... Traveling by car was, according to the book, a new "maybe," after years of being prohibited (whoa, the freedom is killing me). However, it is also noted that most soon-to-be-mothers should abstain from driving, in case it would "make them too nervous".

-At least a few times during your pregnancy, you were supposed to measure the amount of urine you passed during a day, and tell your doctor if it was less than 3 pints. (Let's have a moment of silence over this one, shall we?)

{So it's your appointment, but don't forget that you should let your husband sit closer to the doc and ask the questions. He also knows best}.

-It was stated that while there was no way to "obtain solace" from the constant fetal movements, occupying yourself with your daily housework chores would at least "distract" you from them.

-If you wanted to wash your hair, it was preferable to have another person do it for you, since the prolonged arm raising could somehow hurt the baby (?). But at the same time, going to the salon was a no-no, since sitting there on the chair could prove to be "too tiring".

-You were also supposed to prepare your boobies for nursing by rubbing them with a stiff brush daily and even washing them with alcohol (?). Women were warned that "too many mothers end up not being able to breastfeed due to improper or inconsistent advance preparation." Mhhh, yeah. When you struggle with that at the beginning, it's exactly what you need to hear. That it's your and your damn achy tits' fault.

-Although the book does clearly promote nursing over formula (which probably wasn't the case anymore just 15 or so years later), it also advised that you could feed newborns cow milk, to which you only needed to add water and corn syrup, then boil for three minutes. Providing you knew that the animals were healthy (no mention of pasteurization or sterilization), this homemade formula was deemed "perfectly safe".

-Schedules were apparently extremely important. Even if you breastfed, you were only supposed to do so either every three hours or every four hours on the dot, regardless of your baby's hunger or cries of desperation. The advantage of the first method was to be able to skip nighttime feedings, even from birth (?), while the advantage of the second one was that you would have fewer disruptions while performing your housework duties (What's the friggin' obsession with those???).

-Strangely, though, if feeding your kid wasn't a good enough reason to wake up at night, potty training was. So the advice was to put your baby on the toilet every hour from 1 to 5 AM every night, for as long as the child did not get the memo about not doing in diapers anymore.

{The all-over newspaper covering, the apron, the mask... Geez people, are you *sure* you've done enough before giving an infant a bath? What about haz mat suits?}

Cloth!

One of the big changes that will take place in this household with baby number 2 is the introduction of cloth diapers. It’s a decision I feel really good and I’m fairly excited about (as much as I one can feel excited about going back to this universe after nearly one year of potty-trained bliss).

I was always curious about them and interested in them. I always felt very guilty about the amount of diapers we threw away with LP, and I was never able to live well with that thought (I read somewhere that each child generates about one ton of diapers in landfills. And they take hundreds of years before decomposing. And this isn't even considering that they will cost you thousands of dollars).

But even five years ago, things were very different. I only knew of a couple people who went the reusable route, and… I don’t know. It seemed very marginal and complicated and overwhelming (these are just perceptions, not facts, but it still plays a role in one’s decision process). What I saw was off-putting: smelly, rather disgusting wet pails left around in the bathroom, stained diapers hung to dry all over the living room. M and I were inexperienced, and nervous, and totally unsure of how we would be able to handle life with a newborn, so we ended up deciding that it was probably too much trouble.

It’s funny because I couldn't help but draw a parallel (not sure if you’ll agree with me) between this and breastfeeding: I had a bit of the same negative perceptions about it. My mom never breastfed, and obviously for her bottle was best and nursing was a little weird. My friends did breastfeed though, and even though no one pushed me to do it, I guess that without even saying a word they proved to me that it was possible and natural and good, which made me want to at least give it a try. But even though I went from wanting to do mostly bottle to never really even using one, I was not able to go past my initial hesitations or mixed feelings about reusable diapers. Why not? I think it had a lot to do with that: not really having positive examples.

But now that I have to make this choice again I can feel a shift in mentalities already. Diaper systems have much improved, and they are apparently pretty close to the convenience you can have with disposables. Some options are also so cute, it kind of makes you want to choose them just because of that (OK, not really, but you know what I mean). We know how much diapers costs, and how much waste they generate. I’m not a rookie mother anymore, either, and I feel that taking a few extra minutes each day to take care of this is totally doable. I used to do a load of laundry for LP nearly every day, so it won’t really make a difference. And best of all, there’s now plenty of information on them, and plenty of people who are super enthusiastic about it and who can prove to you that the negative perceptions are, well, just that (great inspirations: my friend Cate, and also this and this).

So this is the compromise M and I came to (I’m not sure how it will play out, but right now this what we feel we can handle): we will still buy disposables, and use them when the other option is too complicated. Situation I feel comfortable with: going to run errands and handling one change, even if it means coming back with a poopy diaper in a sealed bag. Situation I do not feel comfortable with: leaving for a weekend and tote along with a whole slew of them. We will use disposable liners, which apparently help with the clean-up. We will use a little sprayer that fits on your toilet for the exact same reason. We will do a dry pail (no soaking), only using perhaps tea tree oil to keep it sanitary. And we will wash them whenever doing a load of the baby’s clothes (yes everything at once), at the “sanitize” cycle which ensures everything comes out thoroughly clean.

There are all kinds of diaper systems to choose from, some plain, some very funky, some cheap, some more expensive, some with separate covers, some all-in-one. After doing my research, I decided to go with EasyFits, which are more high-end ($25 a pop), but seem to have it all in terms of convenience and quality (it’s made from bamboo, for one thing, and works from birth to potty). We know this is our last kid, so especially if we have a mixed system (keep in mind that when bébé starts daycare at 1 they won’t likely accept them), we're aware that the savings will not be astronomical, but it will certainly still be cost-effective, and we can probably pass the diapers along to someone after we’re done (notice the cool, gender-neutral colors).

A lot of people don't seem to love Velcro, but seriously I don't mind. On their website, they say that it's been especially designed to be strong, long-wearing and durable, and a lot of reviewers were saying that it was their favorite part about the diaper. And as for snagging other items in the wash: you only have to remember to fasten the scratchy part before putting the diaper in the pail. LP has had many items with Velcro on them that I wash (at least occasionally), including bibs, hats, coats and shoes, and I never forgot to do that so it has never been a problem.

{Yes, they *have* come a long way}

I’m still not sure how many I should order: some sources say at least 25!!!, some say 12 is pleeeenty. So I’m leaning towards having about 10 and if we ever run out of them, well bébé will wear a disposable or two before they come out of the wash, that’s all. Even so, it’s still much better than no cloth at all!

Again, I think it makes all the difference in the world to be able to hear or read about other people's experiences, and I feel going this route will not probably be that marginal for much longer. Just like 10 years ago breastfeeding was still quite unusual here, but things have now completely shifted as more and more people started doing it, talking about it, making it increasingly part of the general landscape… And I guess realized that initial reservations can be overcome and should not have to be such an obstacle anymore, not to mention that for all kinds of reasons, it just plainly makes more sense.

Summer 1978

The other day Cara posted a picture of herself as a baby and her (really cute and young) mum that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It immediately sent me back to the few ones I have, eyes edged with little tears (26 weeks pregnant, cries over everything here).


Here is one of my favorite early childhood pictures. I was just a few months younger than LP is now. I love the sweet smile on my father's face. I also love the way my mother is looking at him looking at me. She was only 25, and in her third trimester of pregnancy, just a few weeks from having my sister who ended up being born as the season was fading away (mom was much bigger than normal, and hmm, nice haircut). I love how my dad unbuttoned his shirt to kick back, but still kept his tie on. He was working such long hours at the hospital then, still in his last years of residency, and wasn't home that often. But when he was, he really was. I'll never forget that. His complete and genuine tenderness, patience, happiness to be with me.

Even though LP does take more after his dad as he grows, I like to think that's there's still a little resemblance here.

And with this, the family is complete

We were in a restaurant in Florence, and at a table near us was a woman with her daughter, perhaps 6 or 7, and adorable.

M: Look at that little girl... She's so cute.

Me, smiling: Yes, she is.

M: It affects me more than I thought it would.

Me (even though I know exactly what he means): What?

M: Knowing that we {probably} won't have a girl. That this is it, we won't know what raising a girl is.

Me, emotional: ...

M: Don't you feel that way too?




Well, for sure at the time there was a certain definitiveness. The assumption that I, who only ever saw myself with little girls, would never have one of my own. But surprisingly, other than that, not so much. I was looking at families with two cute little boys with renewed fondness. I was remembering my initial shock and slight disappointment when we found out that LP was a boy, and now how I couldn't even fathom that I ever felt this way. Raising a boy had proven to be so wonderful, maybe even more so because I had never expected it before. Boys were fun, and boys were good.

But really I needn't have to even wonder about that.

Because bébé is most definitely, without a doubt, all girl.

Our daughter. LP's little sister. Were there ever sweeter words?

Fingers. crossed.

Three months before giving birth and we still don't know the sex of our baby. Read further into that: don't have ANYTHING prepared.

But tomorrow is (F_I_N_A_L_L_Y) our fourth and last sonogram. It's the first one when we can bring LP, and he's really excited to see bébé "in my belly with the special machine".

No scheduled post for tomorrow morning; expect to receive the news in real time (mid-afternoon?) *that is, you know, if anyone cares.

Her name was Yolande

Recently my mom answered the door and found my cousin, whom she had not seen in years (he's from my dad's side and my parents divorced in 1990). She was struck by how tall and handsome he looked, a real man. Exactly like his father, who tragically and unfairly died in his fifties when both my cousin and I were 23.

He wanted to know if my mother could talk to him about his a little. They used to be sisters-in-law, were almost the same age and quite close (as hinted by my last sentence, being pregnant at the same time especially made them bond). He has never met her. She died at 29, while giving birth to him. His father eventually remarried, and his new wife was who we considered our aunt, although my cousin's relationship with her was always a bit complicated (according to my mom she never fully accepted him, which I find immensely sad.) Growing up, they never talked much about his mother, there weren't many pictures or memories. "When my dad was here, I wasn't really interested in having him talk to me about her, I wasn't at the right point in my life yet. But now, he's gone and there's no one who could tell me how my mom was." He was crying. My mom tried her best, telling him how much his mother had desired him and blissfully waited for him to arrive.

The night she died, my dad woke up sweating, panicked, repeating to my mom that his sister was in danger and needed him. My aunt and uncle had recently moved to a remote village and even though my parents knew her due date was near they hadn't heard from them. My father was quite distressed, unable to go back to sleep. They learned of her sudden death the next morning.

When LP was four months old while on vacation we passed by this area neither of us knew. My mom had been to the funeral and I remembered what she told me as a child, about the name of the village where she lay, and even the location of her resting place and the peculiarity of her tombstone, which had a carved cat on it (my uncle used to call her "mon petit chat"). We stopped by, and we found it immediately. It's a beautiful place, very peaceful, and she's right near the water, overlooking a quite spectacular view. My uncle is not besides her; I guess in hindsight he spent many more years with his second wife than with my aunt, and she chose to have him rest near where she lives.

We went back to the car where I nursed LP, quite teary, thinking about my cousin who has always struggled so much about growing up without a mother. I was also thinking about her, who would forever remain younger than I was at this point. Right when we got back on the road, we realized that we had dropped LP's pacifier at the cemetery. I told M: "It's OK. It's in good hands. Just a little token to show that we were here."

Being born

Update: Please go visit Brandy's blog for her very eloquent, sensible response to this... (She's planning a home birth this fall).

Last night I had my first dream about giving birth, then breastfeeding (by the way, the baby was a boy). This had not happened since my third trimester with LP I think. My body and mind are both clearly starting to shift back into that mode… Or maybe the dream was just the result of a conversation with my husband I had the night before about this very topic.

This time again, I will be giving birth quite "traditionally" (for our time anyway), in a hospital. Strangely, this choice seems to be in need of a slight justification these days. The conversation with M was as a matter of fact sparked by how I was telling him of this big wave and buzz I’ve noticed all over the Web, blogs, social media and such for the last couple of years, of how women were really dissatisfied by the way their childbirths were being handled and feeling patronized and in need of reclaiming these very special, vulnerable, emotional moments in their life. The documentary The Business of Being Born caused quite a stir a few years ago, and its message was pretty much: normal childbirths are better done at home, with a midwife.

I can’t exactly say how hospital births routinely work in the US (or elsewhere), but according to accounts I've heard or read about, it seems quite bad at times. I can’t really imagine for instance how newborns can still be separated from their parents and put in the care of nurses who will give them bottles even against the mom’s wish, and so on. It seems like a tale from my mother’s time, but apparently is still frequent, among many other problems that really do seem to exist in a lot of hospitals, unfortunately. Recently in an article on the politics of breastfeeding, I came across this staggering fact: 22 establishments here in Quebec have the "Baby-Friendly" certification (awarded by the Unicef and the World Health Organization, which outlines very specific guidelines to promote early bonding and breastfeeding) for a population of 7 million. In the whole US, with its 300 million people, only 89 hospitals do, including only 17 in California, which is generally considered the more "evolved" place when it comes to this. This only hints at how different the systems probably are.

If it’s that bad, I’m not surprised that such a backlash against hospital births has risen, that such weariness towards doctors is occurring. I get it. I kind of understand it. I don’t think births necessarily need to be highly medicalized affairs, I don’t think women should be told what is right for them against their best sense and their will. I’m very pro-breastfeeding (if possible because let's get real, sometimes it's just not, all right, Gisele?), I think drugs of any kind should only be taken after careful consideration, I think that "natural is best" for most things. I agree with a lot of what the pro-home-birth movement is saying, for instance, that every medical intervention during childbirth (i.e. inductions, epidurals) increases your chances of requiring further (undesirable) intervention (i.e. forceps, C-sections, etc.)

But I still can’t get my head around a home birth. I’ve read about several of these being done in recent years, and I respect and support that choice (it truly made me understand the reasoning behind it more. I mean the aspect of being in your own home after seems quite appealing). I know that chances are things will go well –I even realize that in retrospect we could have had LP in our living room and really it would have made no difference. But I still won’t do it. Why not? Well, as it is wonderfully put in this review of the documentary mentioned above, I just cannot for a second forget that even in normal, low-risk pregnancies, things can go very wrong for either baby or mommy at any instant. To this argument, home-birth extreme advocates will reply that it’s untrue, that it’s just what the patronizing doctors want you to believe so you remain scared and don’t take back control over this.

But I’m not buying it. It’s not that I have blind faith in modern medicine (despite my dad and godmother being doctors), I’ve never been afraid to question it and not take all it promotes for granted. I simply don’t think the solution is rejecting it altogether, especially its strongest argument: it knows how to save lives.

I have very personal reasons for confidently stating that a hospital birth is right for me. They are emotional and varied: before the fifties every mother here (including my grandma) was losing 1 out of 4 babies in childbirth, and that’s when she wasn’t dying as well. My aunt died in childbirth following a spectacularly sudden and unpredictable bout of eclampsia (this was the 70s but they lived in a remote village in Northern Quebec and she was at a small, not well equipped clinic instead of a hospital). As you can imagine, this had a profound impact on my family. One of my best friends, who had prepared extensively for natural childbirth including hypnosis and such, started one only to have her son suddenly become in grave distress due to a lack of oxygen. He was born via an emergency C-section, which was not was she had planned. But had she decided to give birth at home like a lot of people she was taking classes with planned to, she’s very well aware that her baby would have died. Another friend's baby girl had a stroke eight hours after birth, and her (understandably inexperienced, tired) parents had not picked up on it (it was a really stressful time and she spent many weeks in the NICU, but she's 8 now and she's completely fine). My cousin also planned a home birth, but had a hemorrhage that led to a horrifying emergency ambulance ride to a crowded hospital she wouldn’t have chosen in a million years –everyone is OK now, but she doesn’t wish this experience to her worst enemy. Some people are fine with these only being anecdotal cases and rely on the fact that the odds are in their favor –which I know they are (I’m not denying all of my other aunts, cousins and friends had uncomplicated deliveries). This is what makes sense to them and I think they should absolutely be given options. But I can’t forget about any of these.

I have nothing negative to say about the hospital we plan to go to or the way they handled my childbirth the first time. It’s always coming back in polls and studies as the best one to give birth here in Quebec, which I realize is probably a good place to give birth in general. Not only do they have that prized "Baby-friendly" certification, but it has everything else we could ever want. They are relaxed, and respectful, and open-minded: you can bring your midwife or doula, they have birthing pools. They are there to assist, ready to intervene, but not forcing anything on you. They will give you an epidural if you want, but will also support you if you don’t. They won’t induce labor unless sustaining the pregnancy at this point could be harmful for the baby, they don't believe in episiotomies, and their C-section rate is significantly lower than average. They don’t prevent you from eating or moving around. I thought the whole process was very humane and dignified (given the circumstances): every room is private, and you stay in it (unless you want to go walk around or go to the pool –I tried both but neither made me comfortable) throughout labor, alone with a nurse and your birthing partner(s); when the moment becomes close, in the last fifteen minutes or so, the doctor and an assistant come in with all the equipment needed. After, they initiate the skin-on-skin contact, help you with the first feeding, check on both of you, and then pretty much leave you alone. They don’t bother you with visitor hours, they’re there in a second if you have questions or need assistance… The bed is even a real, double one, so the partner can comfortably stay the night.

I guess my point is in this case, if it ain’t broke, why fix it? I feel I was truly able to have the best of both worlds: a natural childbirth in a setting which I perceived to be safer. I still have some apprehensions about the second time (for instance I’ll really try not to have an epidural again, but don’t completely rule it out. Who knows what can happen and how I will feel?), but I’m also very reassured about knowing it will take place there again. What I’m trying to say is, I’m not exactly defending hospital births, more like hospital births as I experienced them. And I think if more hospitals and doctors shared the same attitude, it would greatly help.

Tidbits of family life

I love candy. I don’t have it very often, but I’m sometimes craving it, especially the chewy, jujube-y, sour kind. The other night at the store I stop by the cash register and decide to treat myself, choosing two small packets. M looks at me with just this slight irritation, offering: "Maybe just one?" But I smile and reply: "Don’t you argue over this with a pregnant woman!", which the cashier apparently finds hilarious. I share the first packet in the car with LP, then put the other one in my purse. Nearly two weeks later he asks me if he could eat the remaining packet. I tell him "but there’s no more candy! We’ve eaten it all the other day!" And he’s like, "no mommy, there’s another package left, it’s like little red raspberries, in your purse!" I assure him that it’s not the case, he insists about it once or twice, then focuses on something else. The truth is five days before I ate it all by myself while he was outside, and don’t have the nerve to tell him.

The other day the youngest of our neighbors comes inside our house to play, but I can see something’s up. "What’s wrong?," I ask. She talks about her sister and a third neighbor playing outside together, and I can tell she’d really like to go join them. But the third neighbor said she wouldn't be friends with her anymore if she brought LP because he’s "just a baby" and so she’s torn and confused, but she still wants to be nice and to be with my son, whom she adores. I tell her to go if she wants to, and she does. The hardest part is to keep LP inside, and explain to him that he shouldn’t go where he’s not wanted, that we’re better off without people who aren’t nice. He doesn’t understand pettiness yet, and I would do anything to keep him that pure for as long as possible. Why would someone not want to play with him? His heart is broken, and so his mine. Three minutes later the doorbell rings. All three girls are there. The third one says, vaguely concerned: "Why is he crying? Poor thing, his face is all red." I tell her, not angry, but still straight: "He was really sad because you didn’t want to play with him." She blushes. "It’s not that… It’s just that we had this game that was only for big girls and…" LP is not crying anymore. All is forgotten. Everyone is friends again. I could almost hear his heart leaping when he realized that they came to fetch him. They all leave together. I still don’t like the third little girl. I almost never say that about 7 year-old kids but I can totally tell how her parents are raising her to be an entitled, loud-mouthed, A-type brat, and even take pride into that. It's not the first time she does this to LP, and I can see right through her.

Tagged

Alison tagged me with eight questions. Thank you and here you go!

1. Is there anything you’ve ever eaten that was so delicious that you think of it and go kind of misty-eyed to this very day? Oh yes. There are a few things, and the memories seriously help me through the bad days (that's how much I love food). I even blogged about it last year, AND last month. The constant: it was always during a trip, because I think the setting during these times is as important as the food itself.

2. Are you a city person or country person? Half and half? Why? Half and half? I love the city first and foremost, but also the quietness and space that comes with the country. It would have to be more of a relatively "civilized" country though (if that ever makes sense), because being totally alone in the woods plainly freaks me out, even if I know it seems to be most people's ideal place.

3. You know how, before you actually have kids, you have all these parenting principles (”I’m going to home-school/make all the clothes/never buy junk food/bury the tv in the back yard”), and then when you actually have to raise a kid/kids, you end up kind of abandoning said principles? Do you have any of those? Do you feel guilty? Liberated? Indifferent?

I'm kind of sticking to those principles I do have, but the thing is we didn't have that many. The food thing is really important to me, but you know, we also have junk once in a while. TV I don't mind too much, but we do set limits. We're not so great with bedtimes and naps -I thought we would handle this differently, and that's perhaps the little guilt I have. For the rest, I guess we're trying to adjust to our kid and be kind of laid back while showing consistency and providing boundaries. What's the word again, which seems to be the key to everything? Ha, right, balance.

There's one thing for which I've become much MORE attached to my principles than I ever thought I would be: exposure to pesticides and other chemicals (which leads to the organic and/or natural food, non-toxic cosmetics and cleaning products, etc.) But even with that we don't have an all-or-nothing rule - I think it would be nearly impossible to have one.

4. What’s the loveliest place you’ve ever traveled? Could be wildly exotic or comfortingly local. It is cliché to say Italy because it's so expected and I've just returned? Because it is truly an INCREDIBLE country. And also, Slovenia. I'd love to travel more in Eastern European countries.

5. Okay, laundry tips? Please? I really hate cleaning the house but for laundry I'm a bit of an expert. I have a good system. I use Method or Seventh Generation detergent (biodegradable and non-toxic). When LP was born I used Ivory Snow for his clothes and things (I would do a load nearly every day at the beginning), but now that we've switched to a more natural detergent I don't think we're going to need doing that for the baby. I still wash LP's clothes separately, but unless he has accidents or something special (like he specifically needs something clean for the next day) I only do so once a week.

That's my main thing: all-at-once, weekly laundry task (there are exceptions, of course). I find that always having a load in the washer is just not as efficient, and I have a more difficult time handling it and staying on top of it. I very neatly separate my loads (LP, sheets, whites, colors, darks, delicates, towels and linens, and if the amount of clothes justifies it, I'll do a load just for red/purple/hot pink items because I find these colors bleed the most). LP's load goes first so I can pack his daycare bag quickly, and towels always go last, because that's what we need the least. I wash the delicates (lingerie, bathing suits, sleeping gowns, etc.) in the machine but hang them to dry. We use the "sanitize" cycle for accidents because bacteria doesn't get eliminated properly if the water isn't hot enough. I have a mounted drying rack right in the laundry room, and we've put the dehumidifier right below, so the clothes are ready very quickly. I find that doing the laundry once a week helps us tackle the task of folding and putting it away: it's a joint effort, and we do it as we go along throughout the day. Then it's done.

As for stains, there are all kinds of strategies you can use. I always have a "Tide to go" stick in my purse, and that's really the first defense. The best thing is always to address the stains quickly, before they set: I use a natural spot cleaner I find at Loblaws (or alternatively Oxy-Clean), rub the fabric as much as possible, and let it stand in warm water for a while (even a few days). You may need to repeat this a couple of times. Sometimes it's not possible to treat the stains when they're fresh, but I still try to get them out beforehand using the same steps. Then, I spritz the stain with more spot cleaner and wash it in the machine when I do a load. I check it carefully when it gets out: it doesn't matter if the stain is still there, you will not wreck the clothes as long as you don't permanently set the stain by putting them in the dryer. So if the stain is still there I repeat my pre-treatment again, then wash it again. Sometimes a faint spot will always remain, but I've managed to save all the clothes so far, even the dirtiest ones (like grass + fruit juice + tomato sauce on them).

6. Do you have a life plan, or do you just sort of truck along? A mix of the two. Life has not really taken me where I thought it would, and that's fine, great, even. There are things I know I'd like to do: namely, live abroad again with my family, and travel. Career-wise I'm at a bit of a crossroads: working the 9 to 5 is doable, but not optimal or even great for me. It's not what I want to do in the long run, especially not with one more kid in tow. So I know I will always want to work and have some space for "self-achievement outside of motherhood," but I also know that after my mat leave I don't think I'm coming back to this life. I'll try to freelance, push my flowers business, whatnot. Maybe the pregnancy hormones are making me delusional right now (my sister wanted to stay home full-time after her mat leave, had to settle on returning to work part-time, and now 6 months later has no other financial choice but to go back to full-time.)

7. Would friends of the teenage you recognize the current you? Would you still get along? I think so. I still have a lot of people in my life that I've known since then. I'd like to think (or rather hope) that they would both still recognize me and realize that I've improved/evolved.

8. Any novels to recommend for an almost-seven-year-old girl? What were your favourites? Which are you looking forward to sharing with your own kid(s)? Since reading is one of my favorite things to do, this will be a blast I'm especially looking forward to. I can't wait to share all my childhood (and later, hello Harry Potter) readings with them. I read very girly things like The Comtesse de Ségur, Anne of Green Gables and Little Women, which I wouldn't specifically push on LP unless he shows some interest, but also more gender-neutral books like Jules Verne novels, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, Moby Dick. I didn't read in English; I didn't know English. But now I really want the kids to read in both languages. So I'm probably the one needing suggestions.

Pregnancy + fashion ???

What a fabulous inspiration that is Miroslava Mikheeva-Duma, 25, editor for Harper's Bazaar Russia, and very pregnant (via Marvelous Kiddo).


Of course I could NEVER compete: I'm a full decade older, never had such a figure, don't have such a glamorous job or the means to buy such amazing clothes... Not to mention that even I could never do heels like that while preggers! I suspect though that she may only wear them for the picture and then either not stand/walk for the rest of the day, or change into ballet flats (OK, that's just the jealousy talking). But damn, that's one amazingly sexy pregnant woman.

I must say I'm quite pleased with myself though, and the thought/effort I've tried to put into looking good (as a way to feel good overall) this time around. I'm getting big fast (gained 10 pounds in the last month alone, which pretty much crushed my previous hopes), but strangely still keep hearing compliments about pregnancy "suiting me". I never thought that someone could say that. To me. The official non-cheerleader of pregnancy. But I smile and happily accept it.

I thought it could be fun to post one typical week of pregnant outfits, if only to remember it later (I have a feeling I wasn't really pulling it off four years ago, but then I can't exactly recall). Note: I'm currently six months pregnant. Except for a couple more tops, some leggings and three other dresses, that's pretty much all I have as far as summer clothes (and the fall ones are all stored in that ugly plastic bin you can see in the background).

Monday- capris: Japanese Weekend, top: Zara (non-maternity), suede wedges: Geox. It's too bad, the highlight of that outfit was a big, very pretty, very colorful necklace, but you can't see it with the window reflection. Oh well.

Tuesday- printed satin tunic: Joe (non-maternity), leggings: Benetton, laced-up platform wedges: Segue, flower headband: Aldo

Wednesday- tunic: H&M Mama, pants: Benetton, rounded-toe kitten heels: mhhh. Winners? I think I've had them for 5 years.
Thursday- skirt: Noppies (it's 4-in-1, there's a reversible black skirt, and it can be also worn as two different tops), t-shirt: H&M (non-maternity)

Friday- jeans: Buffalo, tunic (a beach cover-up, actually): Forever 21 (non-maternity), studded flats: Nine West

Saturday- dress: Liz Lange for Target

Sunday - jeans skirt: Noppies, zipper flower top: Mossimo (non-maternity), gold heels (found them, on sale!): Aldo

P.S. A long time ago I wrote a post mocking the slight ridiculousness of people doing this on lookbook. So I guess we all know what that makes me now.

Raising girls: the perspective of someone who actually knows what she's talking about

Remember my recent post on how the possibility of raising a girl made me a little nervous (by the way I really appreciated all your comments...) Just so you know, I don't spend all my time neurotically worrying about things like that... I just kind of like using this blog as an outlet for such questions I have. I promise that if we do have a girl, I'll just do the best I can, and won't freak out when someone buys her a pink dress or even calls her princess (OK with you mom? I can't promise I won't slightly roll my eyes in my head though. But that should be a good compromise for everyone.)

My friend Marie-Claude took the time to write a response to my reasoning, and I thought it would be great to have it here... She's someone I really admire, a true supermom who never seems overwhelmed by anything, and a really smart and sensible chick. She has two daughters, four and two and-a-half, and they're not only adorable but also really nice and well-behaved. (Her e-mail was in French, so I can't just transcribe it here but I'll do the best I can to stay true to it).

She said that she agrees with my general sentiment, but she thinks it's *really* difficult to stay out of the Disney-princess-circus these days... She's been working hard to make her girls interested in everything and anything else, but is not having an easy time when it's so all-over-the-place, and all the girls seem to receive are princess dresses/purses/DVDs/high heels. (Perfectly agree.)

She was also raising the valid point that it's not necessarily better for boys, who also receive GI Joes and Transformers galore, which she doesn't think is much saner. (To which I also completely agree, and will say: We don't buy GI Joes and Transformers. We have never received any of it, either, thankfully. Everyone around us has always been thoughtful enough to ask for suggestions for LP or make sure their presents are OK with us beforehand. He's received "violent" toys before in favor bags, and I've just thrown them away (sorry). I'm not completely against "endorsed" toys, even if I generally don't love them and we try to keep them to a minimum (we have things from "Cars," but I don't know, I guess I simply have a bias in favor of that movie). It's not that we only want him to play with wooden/felt no-name toys, we've been shamefully buying our share of plastic dump trucks and such. But LP is solely obsessed with means of transportation, so maybe that's just why we haven't been confronted to anything else that we find a tad objectionable yet. But I still think the realm of "things for little boys to be interested in" on the market is larger (even if that's a little sexist): Legos and Playmobils, trains, dinosaurs, tools, cars and machinery, space things, science things, etc.)

She then told me that regardless of their gender, she thinks kids are projected into an adult world way too early (agree, again). Personally, her strategy to comply with her girls' desire for princess things while not overdoing it is to emphasize the aspect of it being "a game": she does her best for them to realize that this is not real life, that when the game is over it's back to reality, and hopes that this subtlety will make a difference in the end. She even thinks that some "playing princess or lady" helps them define a certain part of their gender identify (very interesting point I had not thought about!)

She also does not really have a problem with making the word "princess" a positive thing: for her it's a way to express how her daughters are beautiful and smart, secure and resourceful, and the fact that she hopes that they will always get to experience the best from life. She finally pointed out that even though you raise your kids the same, their own personalities and traits will always shine through: her first one is more girly and attracted to the world of princesses, while the second one prefers blue and already demonstrates a talent in sports. So your own input and attitude as a mom, although probably very important, will only go so far...

Thank you so much, dear friend, for making my own thought process evolve, dig deeper and get more real. Your perspective is greatly appreciated!

Little obsessions of mine

I've been in love with these 1937 American ads by Lester Beall ever since seeing them in a recent National Geographic issue.




M has been a longtime lover of the 50s aesthetics, including pin-up ads and prints by Gil Elvgren. I like these too (there's nothing sexier to me than these demure, totally glamorous, healthy-looking-but-plump-by-our-standards women), but I've always preferred the earlier modern period, from the 20s to the 40s... So our framed art at home is a mix of the two: vintage Coca-Cola ads with smiling pin-ups, a lot of vintage New York prints (our favorite city), World War II stuff like public service announcements calling women to work, old planes, trains, and cruise ships; vintage everything, basically... I think these above would be perfect, if only I could find a place to put them. They somehow remind of a small series of prints from the same era, which we got after our 2005 trip to the Southwestern States:

{We visited five National Parks then, but plan to expand the collection one day when we go back and check more off the list...}

But in fact, looking at them side-by-side makes me realize that the influence of the ones from the Rural Electrification Administration was different from the American zeitgeist, and *maybe* very subversive given the circumstances...

During the last semester of my bachelor's degree (in Literature), I took one class in History of Graphic Design. Of course, this quickly became my eureka! favorite topic and made me question everything: instead of pursuing my master's as planned, should I start over again in design and/or architecture? I really wanted to, but in the end didn't: I had already been in college for four years and changed majors once, was eager to stop depending on my father and actually work, and I had annoyingly always been like that, suddenly passionate about something, about lots of things, but fickle when it came to exploring it further and showing persistence. (And I think it was the right decision. I still love this but when I look at all the gorgeously designed blogs out there and all the wonderful things that inspire these people, I realize that I'm plainly not that good).

Anyway, this was the height of my obsession with all-things-Russian (earlier there was also an acute all-things-British phase that never completely went away), and since Vassily Kandinsky was one of my favorite painters, this brought me to a similar aesthetic in terms of graphic design and I ended up spending the semester studying Soviet propaganda advertising from the 20s and 30s. And I think that's when I fell in love with ads, goods packaging, PSA and other images like that, which are not considered "high art," but to me still sometimes symbolize and embody an era and a society so much better than painters and sculptors could.

Look at these designs from Alexander Rodchenko (who lived in Moscow in that period and also painted, sculpted, took photographs, and hung out with Revolutionary poets like Vladimir Maiakovsky).




Am I the only one seeing a (troubling but fascinating) resemblance?

State of a union

When we came home late on Sunday night the house felt strangely empty. It's as if we didn't remember how it used to be.

Then we settled in. Suddenly we had all this time! I picked up toys left everywhere by a certain little boy on Friday, and something completely unheard of happened: they stayed in place for the whole week, instead of littering back the floor ten minutes later! We sat down with our feet up and a beer (alcohol-free for me) after coming home from work, we ate dinner at 8 in front of the TV. We slept in a little later, and *everything* felt less rushed.

We talked to LP on the phone every night, and of course he was having a blast. He would always talk to M longer than me: when I picked up the phone, he would basically just say, Mommmmyyy, and get silent or start talking baby-ish, only shouting a few key phrases (I took the bus twice with grandma today!) here and there for good measure. Then M would take over, and he would get all chatty for 5 minutes, going into great details about what he'd done ("we went to Toys'R'Us and grandma got me a toy car with doors that open but then I dropped it in the garbage pan and we couldn't get it back").

Surprisingly, we were different. More relaxed. We were really enjoying each other's company, flirting and teasing and being silly and making little jokes. One night M said, let's go for a ride, and we drove around at dusk in the nearby rural areas, potentially looking for a nice place to live, but finding nothing but corn fields. "They're creepy!" I'd say. "Ooh-ooh, I'm scared!" he'd reply. "We wouldn't want to be one of the million people who die from corn field-related causes every year".

Another night he picked me up at work and we had dinner in a Japanese restaurant downtown followed by a movie. Even though he really wanted to see Inception he let me pick The Kids are All Right, instead. The last time we had done that was in September 2008; enough said. He often had his hand on my belly, chuckling, as bébé has recently won the title of most active fetus in the history of the world.

By Thursday, we were really missing our son and feeling ready for him to come home. Yes, despite all the wonderfulness of the last few days and the more frequent sex. "Would you go back to our pre-kids life?" I asked. "Never in a million years!" he immediately replied, to my great relief. "Even if it might eventually drive us nuts," he added with a mock-crazy smile, while kissing my forehead. We were really on the same page.

And I feel both completely comforted by this ability we have to find each other again when given the chance, and inspired to pursue this relaxed attitude in our "real" life. Maybe I don't have to be so stressed about things running as-I-want-them smoothly during our usual weeknight "rush hour", growing impatient at him for not jumping to complete a task the second I ask him to. Maybe we can take five more minutes in the morning and not slightly snap at each other because we're focused on our own agendas for the day. Maybe sometimes we can just eat crackers, cheese and olives instead of me feeling the need to put a complete, home-cooked, balanced dinner on the table every night. Maybe we're even ready for a babysitter once in a while.

Name dropping

Choosing a name is hard for us. It was the first time, it took months and we ended up simply compounding both our great-grandfathers' names a little out of desperation, even though we weren't specifically looking for an hyphenated one. Some people have names all ready for what seems to be any situation: my sister always had these four names in her head, two for boys, two for girls (all hyphenated), in clear order of preference. As she wanted two children, this covered every eventuality. Right after her sonogram, her son had a name and we started using it right away. I kind of wish we were like that, but we're not.

The ancestors trick will not really work this time: we basically picked the two names that were good, and all the others are just... no. (In the range of Ludger, Napoleon, and Alberta -sorry if I have offended you, deceased family members from both sides). We did have a few names picked for a girl the first time, but for all kinds of reasons, they don't really work anymore.

Here's our criteria. Nothing too popular or fad-like, so the first 35 or so in the database are automatically out. This does not prevent that your name will suddenly pick up in popularity in a huge way (like it happened when my mother-in-law picked my husband's name, and within a year or two it went from rare to the top five), but it puts you in a reasonably safe position. However, the name should not be too "novelty", either, like when it's totally made up, the parents use a weird spelling on purpose, etc. Connotations are big for us; if a beautiful name is suddenly associated with a slutty reality show contestant, well, no (same with, say, a snooty politician). We don't mind rare, but as long as it's not too obscure and recognizable.

We try not to go crazy but still ask ourselves reasonable questions about what having this name could entail. What could be the issues associated with it? Children teasing you in school is one thing, but also, like, could you be taken seriously in your professional life with this name? Could it come with a certain burden? (There's a name we both like for a girl, but it's really overwhelmingly used as a boy name in French, and we're a little afraid it would be a pain always having to explain things and always having everyone expecting a boy to show up). Does it work with M's last name when said out loud?

It can't be too English-sounding because it's both some kind of a faux-pas here and it would simply be butchered by most people, but either a bilingual name or one that "works" in English is definitely a plus (M's name is bilingual, mine doesn't work at all, and LP's, well, is very French in a way but I console myself by saying that he can always use his initials or drop one of his names later if he wants to, which I wouldn't mind at all). Hyphenated is OK, although not a requisite at all, unlike a lot of people seem to assume we would do since we already did. Well, maybe that's also because they know my two sisters and I are all called Marie-something.

So, yeah, we are damn picky folks and totally deserve our months-long anguish over this. When we finally decided on LP's name, it sort of fitted most of our requirements (53 kids were given that name the year he was born, and it ranked at a comfortable 130th place), and looking at him now, it seems like we couldn't have picked one that suited his personality better. So phew.

Which only emphasizes the need to repeat this feat once again. We're not sure we're having a girl so we're not exclusively looking at that, but can't help noticing that the pool of girl names is different. I guess it only shows that the choices are much greater, because in terms of popularity, the number one girl name of last year in Quebec (Léa, with 442 occurrences) really doesn't measure up with the number one boy name (William, with 1,074 occurrences). In absolute numbers, the first girl name is equivalent to the 16th boy name. Whoa!

That's where we're at; lost. I can't wait to know what our baby is, so we can properly focus on this and further direct our search. I will keep you posted about our progress, but after some thought, have decided that I won't reveal the name we choose here. Although I'm not totally paranoid and it's not a top-secret taboo either, I just generally prefer using initials or other monikers for people close to me (just like I won't say exactly where we live). I use my real name in my online social life, and they've have not chosen to appear on this blog, so it's just a little distance I choose to keep for my own personal level of comfort (and out of respect for them). Perhaps it's a misguided delusion, I don't know, but I hope you understand. Bottom line is hopefully, bébé will soon have a beautiful, shiny initial of her/his own.

The power of cookies

You may or may not know that I'm involved with a charity called Cookies for Kids Cancer, which raises funds for pediatric cancer research. I was brought there through an adorable little 6 year-old kid named Liam Witt, who's been a relentless fighter since he was diagnosed with neuroblastoma in 2007. His family had to endure incredible hardship since then, and there are hundreds of stories like his, and this only makes me more 1-grateful about my kid(s) health, and 2-dedicated to give back for this luck we've had and should not take for granted. The principle behind Cookies is simple: you hold bake sales, raise awareness, and help fund further treatments in a field where options are gravely lacking, due to the low number of patients.

I still plan to do a fundraiser this fall for the third time, yes even while hugely pregnant. I really want to benefit from all my wonderful co-workers' support with this -this will kind of be my swan song before going away on mat leave.

Recently, the charity coordinator informed me that they had concluded a publishing deal for a book about the organization: part inspiration, part recipes, part "how-to" for bake sales... They will also feature some people involved in the organization, and so it's with great honors that I've accepted to be a part of it and write a little bit about my experience. The book will be out in the fall of 2011, and I hope will create a certain buzz in the media and such around the cause (Joan Cusack is the official spokeswoman, by the way). $1 million has been raised overall in less than two years, and this proves that when you put your heart into something, big things can happen!

Bébé apparently likes Beethoven

Recently I experienced a too-rare simple pleasure I've always especially enjoyed. On a magical night when LP was in bed, M was working on the computer, I wasn't too tired and didn't have anything else to do, I flipped the TV channels and immediately came across this good, quirky, thought-provoking movie that was just starting, without commercial breaks.

It was La face cachée de la lune (The Far side of the Moon), a 2003 Québécois flick by Robert Lepage (it was even Canada's Foreign language Oscar nomination that year). Lepage never disappoints, and I love the very local yet very universal tone he always has, his eclectic and countless references, the intelligence of his work, the bittersweet humor. He always chooses the same actors, explores the same themes (difficult brotherly relationships, homosexuality, how childhood influences our present, etc.) yet manages to never make the same movie/play. This one involves a bit of a loser, loner 40-something student whose doctoral thesis in on "how narcissism influenced the exploration of space". And the point of this post is not to tell you the entire plot, but one of his lines is still making my smile and somewhat haunting me since then: "Mankind is so narcissistic, so obsessed with itself and so eager to find mirrors, that it even created God according to its own image."

While I was lying down and watching, bébé was being especially active, as it often is at night right before I go to sleep. That same day, I could definitely feel a switch in its movements, which were suddenly higher and all over the place, as if it had significantly grown overnight (probably in fact just switched positions). Nearly the entire score of the movie is from Beethoven, first because there's a goldfish character named that, but also I think because Lepage could not have found more appropriate music to accompany his movie's atmosphere: very present, beautiful and sad, just a little dark, but with hopeful and even funny moments.

And right when an especially poignant no-dialogue, music-only moment of the movie begun, bébé just started having a life of its own, kicking, twisting, wiggling like mad. I guess it could have been an unrelated coincidence, but it then went on for several minutes -during the whole scene, and then stopped immediately after the music did. I called M to come see this: my belly was popping in every direction, not alien-like recognizable body parts or the like, but just little quick-disappearing bumps. I even tried playing what used to be my favorite game with LP (albeit one that started much later): gently poking my stomach where I could feel its body, trying to elicit a response. Bébé played along! Each time after I did, it kicked back at the same place, immediately, strongly and very deliberately. Like 15 times.

I realized that this was my moment, the one when I could suddenly feel all this maternal love pouring out in waves towards this very small, fragile little thing still inhabiting my own body. I had felt it at the 13-week scan for LP, and I remember how utterly amazed M and I were while looking at the screen at this real baby moving inside of me. I expected it to happen again this time, but even though I was happy and teary, it just wasn't the same, probably because I knew what to expect. And I guess that's the greatest lesson: second pregnancies are different, and perhaps less magical in this way. But your attachment, your excitement, your surprise at the funny differences, are still just as real.

A dress

I have a couple formal occasions coming up in the fall. I had a pink, beaded evening maternity dress from my previous pregnancy, but got a little fed up with it and handed it to my sister, who, with my permission, handed it to a friend. So I'm glad that the dress is still useful to someone; it takes the slight guilt out.

I've been eyeing this beautiful little 100% silk number for a while, but it was a bit expensive, not outrageous but still too much for me to justify only wearing it once or twice. Then I visited my favorite maternity shop because they had a sale for summer items, and was disappointed to find out that the dresses are not really considered seasonal and hence were not discounted. I told the owner about it, he made a couple calculations and told me that if I really wanted it, he could give me 25% off.

So I tried it on. And fell in love. And realized that I could also wear it during the Holidays, since even though I will have given birth a month before my body will still be weird and in-between at this point. For the first time in two and a half years, I did something that, for a long time, used to be the only determining factor in me buying clothes or not: check for breastfeeding possibility (i.e. are you able to easily get a boob out). It worked. Looking at the silhouette, I decided that the dress could probably even be worn while non-pregnant, kudos to the designer. Suddenly the purchase became much more justifiable.

So I bought the dress. And now I'm looking for fabulous gold shoes to go with it.

{It's from Noppies}

LP's vacation

This week, LP is away. We had never done that before, but M's parents have been asking us to send him over during the summer for a long time, and this year we finally agreed (he also went during our honeymoon in Mexico last year, but it wasn't the same since we weren't home).

Kiddo was really excited about this, and we thought it could be a nice change and occasion to spend time alone with his grandparents, who have a really big country yard he can run into all day long and a house full of treasures. He's gotten big enough that it's easier for them, too: no more diapers, he's quite autonomous, has gotten much better at sleeping alone, etc.

I still felt a little funny about sending him away while we were at home and did not have anywhere to go. I guess it's part of my slight, but ever-present working mother's guilt that since I'm already putting him in daycare for a good number of hours each week (don't get me wrong, it's a great place, he loves it there and it's really working for our family), I want to be there for him every waking minute I can. It's clearly my issue, not his, though. And let's face it, he's growing up, also needs to bond with his extended family, and one day -which will probably happen sooner than I want to- he'll be going away at camp, or on school trips, with friends, etc.

The thing is I'm pregnant, emotional and soooo tired, and feel this little break will also be good for us right now. Our vacation has been fantastic, but also quite intense and at times pretty difficult with him, and since we've been back it's been a little bit of a challenging month, probably in part due to my hormones. And being together again on Friday after having missed each other will probably be the best!

This was the week I was supposed to go to New York for the BlogHer conference, but after all it will not happen. The plans sort of fell through, and I've gotten to the point of my pregnancy when it seemed a bit much to go on a crazy, really busy, whirlwind long weekend away. So I'm a little disappointed but really it's not so bad, probably even for the best. I'll go another year.

M and I also usually have a little summer tradition of leaving LP one weekend a year to go on a two-day motorcycle ride, but it won't happen this year with the baby on board. I was a little sad about this, because it's always been a great occasion to reconnect as a couple, and spent some quality alone outside the parenting setting. So I guess this will be our replacement for this year. I love LP more than anything in the world, and can't imagine our life without him, but I've also decided to just enjoy going back to our pre-kids life for a few days, with its more leisurely dinners, quiet evenings, sleeping in, time for myself, and of course, time for my husband.