The boob post.

I never thought I would write such a detailed post about my breasts, let alone how much of a pain they can be. I mean they're small and don't really get in the way - I can run without support just fine and I'd be stretched to squish them into a little black dress (they don't really squish). I'm talking about literal pain... and here I am: slightly delirious from flu like symptoms, typing away with potato in my bra. 

Yeah, a fucking potato. Mr. Potato Head met his maker today (but part of him is getting some serious action). 

I have a blocked duct. Or, with the low energy-nauseous-achy all over-can't seem to get warm no matter how many blankets I pile on - kind of feeling, mastitis. The later is likely but we won't know for sure until tomorrow. There is a script in my purse that I am hesitant to fill. My lactation consultant agrees.

I love my breasts, so it pains me to write anything ill about them. (HA! Sorry that just kind of happened!) But in all seriousness this is one of the most painful things I have experienced. 

It started with a stabbing pain in my left breast. I was walking up the stairs, minding my own business when Ghosty decided to punch me right in the boob. Okay, it wasn't the ghost apparently, it was my breast producing milk and my duct not allowing it to flow.

My daughter is almost two and a half and I have nursed her (just once a day, if that, for the past few months) this long without having any complications. A wee bit of chapping when she was first born but no yeast issues, no latch problems and thankfully no concern when it came to supply. Which is how at 2.5 when she's feeling really off at a party and needing comfort I can nurse her just fine. 

After my appointment today, we assume it's because my supply is still abundant and she was able to get it flowing again with a big nurse on the weekend, but she didn't quite drain it.... and voila! A blockage. I am amazed that it can happen that easily and how the pain came on so suddenly. That pain? It's severe. 

I found this article that is really close to what my specialist was saying - and although I recommend you head to one yourself - this might give you some comfort and help you stay on top of it. 

Or, if you've been through this - what's the best way you got things flowing again?

The Best Day of My Life

Today. Today is going to be the best day of my life. 

Why?

Because my daughter asked to dance with me. 

I work part time at a theatre which sometimes can lead to incredibly late and long I've-been-on-my-feet-for-6-hours-straight-with-no-break nights. Last night was one of them. Exhaustion this morning took over my limbs but my daughter thankfully doesn't understand and insisted "MAMA! Mama get up!!!" 

Penelope help my hand as I obligingly roused myself and lead me towards my slippers and a blissfully delicious cup of coffee. We made a smoothie together (ever see a 2+ year old react to a blender being used? I highly recommend it), sat and shared a glass together, and then she looked up at me and said words that are music to my soul...

"Mama, I want to dance!"

We sat on the computer and I let her chose what categories she wanted from Songza. Her choices lead us here. (Take three and a half minutes to listen... and if you fancy - dance!)




At first we just danced on our own, then danced down the hallway and in circles - and then this moment came where she asked to be picked up. Climbing my torso like a tree she pulled herself up so we were cheek and cheek, pressed her face against mine as hard as she could, wrapped her arms around my neck and said, "Love you Mama". And then we danced with our faces squished against each other, holding each other tightly and hoping the song would never end. Okay, that last part might just have been me ;)

best. dance. of. my. life.

The big BIG emotions of a two year old... and the even bigger emotions of her mama

We have a two year old.

That sentence should be all I need to type for most to understand and empathize with what we've been struggling with over the past little while. The tantrums, the NOs, the refusal to get dressed/brush teeth/eat dinner/go to bed, pushing us away in anger, the whining - oh. my. gods. the whining and stubbornness to boot. 

It's the big emotions of a two year old - they're growing and developing at a rapid rate and they are responding authentically, albeit brain stabbingly painfully for us. I envy the truth to their actions and emotions. 

My emotions are just as big, maybe even bigger, as I learn how to deal with the anger that results from the shrieking-hairpulling-punching-kicking-and-screaming-in-the-middle-of-the-street-moments. I'm not proud. I yell at my kid sometimes. I wish I could tap in to some ujjayi breath and pause before I react more often than I do, but honestly ...
by the end of the day I want to be the one shrieking-hairpulling-punching-kicking-and-screaming. 

We have been taught, trained, to unlearn natural human responses as we've grown into adulthood. We're taught not to cry when we're sad, or not to yell when we're angry. The focus has been on happiness and bliss for so long we are forgetting what it's like to react to our authentic emotions. 

The only thing we seem to be encouraged to do is to laugh or smile when we're happy. A lot of people can't even cry when they're sad because they've been so conditioned. I once wrote about screaming into pillows - and underwater - and it's the greatest feeling because you can release the emotion that has boiled up inside you. 

Really, that's all our toddlers are doing... releasing and expressing their emotions. I want to try to let my girl work her emotions out for herself - for her to learn how to be a good listener and understand what is happening. I know, I know... it'll come with time. 

For now I'm trying to focus on the flip side. That with all of the above comes the wonderous development of a two year old. Seeing them struggle with a puzzle or a toy and its mechanics only to witness the "ah-ha" moment when it seems to click for them. Hearing them try to string sentences together in an attempt to communicate more fully... and hearing them repeat the same word over and over trying to get their point across through the power of inflection. 

Discovering colours, feeling how their bodies move when they dance and how their voice sounds when they sing. Learning to use the toilet and brush their own teeth... it's all fascinating to watch. 

That being said... I'm still looking for ways to stop and breathe before reacting. Have any tips?

Night Mama

A tired girl flops on the bed, tucks her head into the crook of her elbow. 
She feels the softness of the blanket coming up around her shoulders, and each corner of it being straightened out to ensure each bit of flesh is covered in comfort. 
A hand rests on her back, reassuringly stroking it up and down, soothing her into slumber.
With a little pat on the bum and a kiss on the head, she hears her daughter whisper "Mama, sleep. Night Mama."

Nothing better than being tucked in by a two year old. <3

Bitten, Bruised and Battered (or, How to Handle Getting Your Ass Handed to You by a Toddler)

When I say my toddler kicked my ass, I don't mean she has been rambunctious all day and I'm tired, or I had to physically chase after her so much that now everything between my neck and my feet are begging for a hot soak in the tub. When I say that I had my ass handed to me by a toddler, I'm talking about her physically hurting me. 

Our house is full of love, hugs, kisses and random dance parties. Yes, we've got our stressful days but we don't yell, or throw, or hit. Even though we try to teach by example, it's not enough. Tonight I was pinned to the floor by a 19 month old ninja trying to fight her way onto my chest in order to get a handful of hair in her fist and my shoulder in her mouth. 

When she's not going Hannibal Lecter or Ninja Baby on me, she's pinching, slapping, or hitting with her toys. Or, she's biting through clothing. Tonight she bit a hole through my skirt. 

How do you get it through to her at such a young age that it's not cool to smash your mama in the face with your sippy cup, bite her on the back of the thigh or grab a chunk of skin (and sometimes flesh), dig your nails in deep and twist?!

"No" doesn't seem to work. She giggles when I use a stern tone of voice. "Stop" makes her want to do it more, to the point of chasing me around the house to try and get a grip on one of my limbs so she can sink in her tiny little fangs. I haven't seem to have mastered "the look"... although I'm working on it. Give me time.

I understand that at one and a half, a child's language is developing and due to their lack of vocabulary, they rely on actions to communicate. Incoming molar aside, the hitting and pinching is telling me she doesn't like me; that she wants to cause a reaction in me. Is it as simple as her needing more of my attention than she's getting? 

My big question: How can I help her channel this energy so she's not hurting people? What are the great activities that help curb toddler aggression?

My new approach, as I attempt to cease the bloody marks on my skin, is to reinforce the "gentle" instead of responding with the negative, "no"s, "don't"s and "stop"s.  And maybe take a time out myself before reprimanding her. 

Suggestions, advice, and guilty confessions of your reaction to an aggressive toddler welcome! (and politely begged for --- see the comment section? leave 'em there")

Piano vixen

Penelope doin' a jig while playing the keys with Papa. 

Give it 7 seconds. Gods I love this child.

Valentine's Day - to play or not to play?

Unpacking my daughter's daycare bag the other day I discovered a piece of paper with a list of names: "Valentine's" - it is a list of the proper spelling of the names of each kid she goes to daycare with. Just having gone through this whole "Santa at daycare" thing, my gut response  is along the lines of, "what the eff... another damn holiday we're forced to participate in?" I glance at my calendar and I see we have a "holiday" popping up every few weeks: Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter... none of which we really celebrate in our home. Here I am again faced with my daughter being in a daycare that does indeed celebrate these holidays. 

What do I do? 

Well, it's Sunday morning and here I am making pink play dough and preparing little heart gift boxes for each of those snotty little brats. (What? I'm feeling like my fifteen year old self, angsty and high-falutin.)

While I stir the playdough, this is what's going through my mind:

"This is bullshit."

"Why am I doing this because someone told me, 'it's what you do'?"

"This is a holiday created so people will buy more; it's a sales gimmick. Do I really want to support this?"

"Well, I do aspire to be a DIY mom and since I suck royally at it, this is giving me an opportunity to do something crafty."

"Look how pretty that bubblegum pink turned out!"

"Maybe holidays aren't so horrible"

"Oh gods, did that thought process really just happen?" 

Hmmm, so maybe it's not the holiday itself that pisses me off. Maybe it's just the expectation and assumption?

This is me being torn in two. This seems to be something that happens to me during every single holiday marked on our calendar except for Halloween. That one makes sense to me. There is an assumption that because we live in the Western World we're climbing over each other to decorate for, bake for, make for, and spend more for various holidays. 

We are told we are supposed to do these things. So, shouldn't we? Shouldn't my partner stroll in the door this Thursday armed with a dozen red roses and a piece of glorious jewellery? Shouldn't he make reservations at our favourite restaurant and spend a week's worth of groceries on one meal? Or better yet, attempt to cook in my stead and insult my taste buds? (no offence honey - but we both know how good your cooking is *smooch*) It is after all the FOURTEENTH!

I, personally, want to celebrate love every day. 

I think that if a family wants to participate in these rituals it should be up to them rather than being told by an institution that they have to do it. I do on the other hand understand we live in the western world and this is how daycare and schools get by - having a theme to focus on. Hell, it's how many adults get by - looking forward to one holiday or another. While I would LOVE for there to be more themes that focus on the earth, the arts and how to grow our children into magnificent people, I realize that I can't control the activities that are going to come up in celebration of these holidays. I can control how we choose to participate in them. 

So, rather than buy a box of (insert the name of latest trendy kids show character) cards and simply fill them out with the names of the other toddlers in her daycare - proper spelling and all - we're making playdough and passing on the recipe for the other parents. Yes, it even has a cute little saying...



It's still a cheesy valentine but what do you do? 

If you're me, you cave and you play nice and vow that as she gets older to educate her on the actual history of these rituals and holidays. To teach her she can celebrate them if she chooses and how she wants to.

I figure it's up to us as parents to ensure she knows of the celebrations that come from her ancestors that might not get celebrated at daycare and school. How many schools do you know that do crafts for Purim or Imbolc? 

Most importantly, it's up to us to teach her how to love every day. Not because we're told to, but because we feel it in our hearts. Even if it is like putty in her hand. 

Adventures in play dough making

This weekend we embraced our inner DIYer parents. You know the kind. They make felted animals, sew their kids clothes, fill out their handcrafted baby journal on a regular basis and construct play kitchens out of old entertainment units. Seriously. This is a thing. Haven't you been to Pinterest? 

Crap. Come to think of it... that kitchen is next on our list. I admire these people. Time is one thing, you can always make yourself find time; I have no idea how they find the energy. I think in the end you just need to get off your ass and just do it. As with most things that don't involve a glass of wine with a great book, motivation is key. 

For our DIY adventure, we decided to start by making play dough. It was surprinsingly easy after our first two failed attempts. Those may not have occurred if we had normal flour in our hourse. We bake with spelt, chickpea, coconut, etc. flours... luckily we had some cake a pastry self rising flour left over from the last cake I made during the holidays. 

The problem with this is it has baking soda and salt already added. This  little quandary lead to us perusing the interweb for a recipe using self-rising flour. One site told us to just mix it equal parts water and flour. yeah. ummm. dough. it made dough. the sticks-to-everything-including-your-fingerprints kind of dough. 

We decided to go with the initial recipe I got from a friend and said salt ratio be damned. It turned out really well if you omit the little chunks from our momentary lapse of continuous stirring.  

 

The one thing we weren't expecting was for our amazingly curious and resilient daughter to be scared. She was more than a little apprehensive about the colorful stretchy substance. She actually ran away from it at one point. I think the pink offended her.

Eventually she came around, realizing it wouldn't bite, and it entertained her for hours (on and off of course) through the afternoon. 

I'm excited for our next batch and to play around with natural food colorings. Know of any really great ones? I hear beets make for amazing purple.

Oh, and if you want to give it a whirl... here's the successful play dough recipe:

1 cup flour
1 cup water
1 tablespoon oil
2 tablespoons cream of tarter or ( 1 tablespoon powdered alum)
1/2 cup salt
2 tablespoons vanilla
food colouring

Mix all dry ingredients. Add oil and water. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly until reaching consistency of mashed potatoes. Remove from heat and add vanilla and food colouring. Divide into balls and work in colour by kneading. (wear gloves, colouring stains until it is mixed into dough)

And, if you have any brilliant tips for helping the dough last longer, be sure to leave a comment below!

I never thought I'd hear the words...

.... "I DON'T WANT TO PLAY ANYMORE"

This from the grown woman who kept a red hula hoop behind her office door for almost a decade! The woman who still has bubbles within an arms reach! And she doesn't want to play?

I shocked myself when I said those words aloud this morning... with a little whine and a little pout to boot. 

After transforming my body into a rocker, an airplane, a bouncy machine and a chair - as we read stories, stacked blocks and found homes for various small items in my pyjamas - I really just wanted my body to myself. If only for ten minutes. 

Once that moment came I was then chased, became the chasee and inevitably it lead to being the source of a morning snack. 

There was but one pee break and even then I was attempting to break off a square of TP with a toddler hanging onto my neck. Yeah. Ever try to pull up your pants with 26 lbs of dangling cuteness? It's not easy. 

More than two hours later I couldn't take it anymore. At the first sign of what sort of, kind of, maybe looked like a little bit, of a yawn I plopped my child in her crib. 

And she cried. At that point, I just didn't care. Bring on a cold cup of coffee,  I was done playing. 

I said I'd give it 5 mintues... it took about 3 until she discovered the bottle I planted in her crib.

Mwahahaha 

She has been asleep for a glorious hour. Let's pray it leads to another.

(Almost) First Steps

At first I thought "squeeeee!" when my little girl took her first step. She stood up, arms outstretched, tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth, and steadied herself. The look on her face said "holy shit Mama! I can do this WITHOUT holding your hands!" It was a look of wonderment laced with mischief and crossed with determination. I'm in for a world of trouble with this newly almost toddling girl.

It was the second time she rose to standing that she decided to take it one step further (sorry, I'm a sucker for puns) and placed right foot in front of left, or was it left then right? I was too busy paying attention to the fact that my daughter was trying to WALK! I'm calling them the "almost first steps".

Since that video, she's worked up to 3 or 4 steps...

WALKIING!?!?! So exciting...

Wait. No. No it's not. 

I mean, yes it's exciting to see her develop and realize she can do something on her own without me. I know most people would insert a little sniffle here, about how their little girl is growing up so fast. My sniffle is for a selfish reason, I don't want her to walk. I want her to be as immobile for as long as possible. What? It's nice to be able to run down stairs and change the laundry over when she's playing in the living room.  She's pretty quick at crawling. Walking will lead to running and I don't know that I'm quite ready for that. Plus, walking leads to her standing more often, which means she's going to be able to reach the surfaces of everything. It's only a matter of time before she figures out the latch on the baby gate or learns to climb over it!

And then what happens?



Okay, it might have it's perks ;)