O Christmas tree, how ever-synthetic your branches

Each year I am faced with the same Christmas dilemma...real or fake?  The pure, fragrant, traditional, nostalgia of a real tree?  Or the hassle and mess free ease of an artificial one?  Years ago we started using an artificial tree and haven't really looked back, except that for the nagging sense of guilt that I feel every year as I pop the tree up, lights and all, in two minutes flat. 

You see I'm the kinda girl that takes a certain pleasure in the simple things this world offers - home cooked meals, baking from scratch, walks in the woods, you get the idea.  And I really try hard not to get caught up in the commercial consumerism that has become Christmas for so many people.  So an artificial tree kinda goes against my beliefs, if you will.

But then I remember.  You see, putting up the Christmas tree brings back some childhood memories that are the complete opposite of joyful or merry.  After my parent's divorce, there wasn't a handy man around to do the manly things required to get a tree from the lot to your living room (like strap a tree to the roof of the car or saw off the bottom branches).  My mom didn't let that stop her by any means (she's a champ) but the going was tough.  By the time we had the tree home and ready to go into the stand we were all pretty worn out.

Ah yes.  The tree stand.  I'm pretty sure they've come a long way since the last one that I had to deal with almost 20 years ago (for you real-tree people I truly hope they have), but the one I remember was green metal with four curved legs coming off of a round bowl.  There were 4 bolt-like pegs that poked through the bowl so you could tighten them into the trunk of the tree to hold it up. 

It sucked.  I vividly remember my brother and I fighting to hold the tree upright as my mom tried to tighten those stupid pegs to secure the tree, all the while we were getting poked in the hands and arms by a thousand little needles.  After what seemed like hours of battling to get the tree just UP, we still had to untangle and string lights.  Once the tree was finally decorated, it would inevitably fall down in the middle of the night and we'd have to start over again.  I remember one year all three of us ended up crying over the tree that just wouldn't stand.  That was the last year we had a real tree.

I guess all the memories aren't bad.  I do recall the excitement of running through the maze of freshly cut and snow covered trees with my brother trying to pick the perfect one.  And of course there's the unbeatable fragrance of pine in your home.  And once we finally did get the tree up it was always beautiful.

So I do feel a little guilty having an artificial tree, but not nearly guilty enough to go back and relive that nightmare.  Plus, the baby would totally just eat the needles and I'm pretty sure that wouldn't be good.  Oh yeah and I'm also saving the planet a little by not cutting a tree down.  So there.

Where'd she go?

Okay so it's been over a month since I've posted, and it's been a very busy month indeed.  Perhaps I temporarily had my priorities straight and was focused on my real life...(cough)

Anyway my apologies for the lack of commitment on my part.  I also apologize in advance for this post as it really has no particular theme and is really more of an update.  Because I needed to post about something.  Right.

So in the last month we've moved, semi-unpacked, and are sort of settled in our new (old) rental place.  We officially own a little piece of land that's nothing more than snow and trees right now, but I'm very proud and pleased just the same.  Hopefully we'll have a hole in the ground soon.

My little monkey is sick again with an ear infection and it's looking like he'll need tubes.  Initially I was relieved to hear this, as I had tubes in my ears as a child and they essentially put an end to painful ear infections.  Then I thought about letting go of my little guy while strangers whisked him away to put him under anaesthetic whilst we both sob in terror....and then I hyperventilated a little and decided it was best if I just didn't think about it until I absolutely HAVE to.  I think it's safer for everyone that way.

Let's see....what else....oh yeah - CHRISTMAS.  We'll it sure snuck up on me this year.  I detest Christmas shopping but this year I did most of it online which was freaking fantastic and is officially my new favourite thing.  Also, we're poor this year so I've been busy making preserves to give as gifts.  Still have to bake and wrap.  Can't wait to spend time with the fam (by fam I of course mean wine, cranberry martinis, and coffee with Baileys).

I'm pretty sure I'm missing some stuff because I literally haven't stopped for weeks but that's the gist of it.

In Remembrance

Today I remember. 

I remember those who fought and continue to fight.

I remember the sacrifice they made.
I remember why they made it.
I remember what's important.
I remember what isn't.
I remember war, so my child will remember peace.

Lest we forget.

Pack it up, pack it in

Only 3 weeks to go before our house no longer belongs to us, and we finally found a place to live.  Phew.  That was cutting it a little close.  I guess I should be packing or something.  But I so hate packing.  So here I am.

This move is bitter-sweet.  Because the plan is to build a beautiful home that we'll love (actually this is the back-up plan after this happened), but in the meantime we have to move out of our beautiful home that we almost love and into a dumpy rental that is costing as much as our mortgage.  Plus it's covered in wall to wall shag carpeting that the baby is going to be crawling around on - shudder.  Not ideal, but it's a roof over our heads.  Oh yeah, and it doesn't have a dishwasher, which is going to be interesting.  I'm going to stop there because I don't want y'all to think I'm a spoiled brat.

So 2 weeks until we move.  Holy crap.  Have you ever tried to wrap things in newspaper with a toddler at your feet?  Have you ever seen a toddler with newspaper, even?  I don't know what it is about rustling and crumpling papers but it's like catnip or speed or something.  He goes ballistic.  He'll go at it with a pile of newspapers and won't stop until the living room looks like a hamster cage.  So I'm having a hard time being productive.  Plus, he thinks cardboard is food, so I can't exactly leave boxes lying around if you know what I mean. 

If there's one thing about moving I hate more than packing (or lifting, or unpacking), it's phoning all the utility people to cancel or move services.  Especially BELL.  There's waiting on hold.  Getting disconnected.  Waiting on hold just to get disconnected.  Dealing with miserable people who hate their job.  Dealing with overly cheerful people who also probably hate their job, but must not get paid or something unless they're overly cheerful.  And then there's the arguers; you know the ones who try desperately to convince you not to disconnect your service, or to improve your package, or to increase your coverage, or whatever.  After waiting on hold and being disconnected, I honestly don't have the time, patience, or energy to argue people.  Not to mention that my husband and I have done a year's worth of arguing in the last two weeks as it is.  So gimme a break.

Okay.  That's enough complaining for now.  I better go pack something. 

Trick or Treat

Halloween's approaching and I'm getting excited.  I'm going to try and take the little guy to a few houses this year.  Yes, I guess I officially became one of those moms.  The ones I used to roll my eyes at during my pre-baby years of shelling out, wondering why anyone would take a kid out when they're too young to understand.  Well now I know why.  One: They're so freakin' cute all dressed up.  Two: I get the candy.

Last year the baby was just over a month so I didn't take him trick or treating (you gotta draw the line somewhere people), but I'll admit I did put him in a costume.  It was a little bat costume that was basically a hat with bat ears, a cape, and little bat feet booties.  He HATED it.  He screamed until I took it off.  I felt terrible.  So hopefully this year won't be quite so traumatizing for him.

I've always really loved Halloween, and my childhood memories of trick or treating are some of my most vivid and fun memories of all.  For me I think it's special because you really get a sense of community on Halloween.  Unlike other holidays, everyone is out and about on the streets on Halloween night.  There's something surreal about seeing every single kid in the neighborhood out in the street at the same time.  You get to meet your neighbors, get to see into their houses.  And that's a rare thing these days, when people just seem to keep to themselves.  They hunker down behind closed doors and reach out to total strangers online (ahem....) but don't know who lives on their street. 

True, for some kids Halloween is about greedily gathering as much candy as they (and their parents) can carry home.  Ok for most kids.  But I like to think that Halloween also still holds that magic eerie energy that I remember from my childhood.  When the leafless trees take on an ominous presence and dark corners hold horrible possibilities.  When you look up at the wispy clouds drifting over the moon and half-expect to see a witch fly by on her broom.  When you diligently light your jack-o-lanterns just in case there is any truth to the legends.  When you let yourself get a little spooked, because it's sooo much fun. 

Happy Halloween.

Domestic disturbance

So yesterday was pretty much the worst day ever.

It starts out with me getting up at 5:30 with our son who barely slept all night because he is sick with a cold.  Why, I ask, with the advances of modern medicine, have they not come up with cold medication that is safe for babies and toddlers?  He doesn't know how to blow his nose for crying out loud.  He tries to eat and big snot bubbles are coming out of his little nostrils.

In addition to his cold, and a tooth popping through, the little monkey has had an ear infection for like six weeks now.  He just started his third kind of antibiotics the other day, which gave him a rash and upset stomach so I stopped them.  So he's totally miserable.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, our house has been for sale.  We've been trying to sell it in time to buy this other place that we wanted to fix up and flip.  So yesterday our agents call.  Good news: our house sold.  Bad news: the individual selling the house we want decides at the last minute to increase the price we verbally agreed upon by forty thousand dollars, so essentially we wouldn't make any money flipping it (lesson: you can't trust anyone).  But our house is already sold.  SO, we have exactly one month to find someplace to go.

So my hubby comes home from work and I give him the bad news, all the while the baby's wailing because his teeth or ears or tummy or something hurts and apparently Tylenol isn't cutting it.  Then I catch a whiff of something not normal and I ask my husband to assist me in changing one nightmare of a dirty diaper (I guess it was his tummy hurting after all).  So as we're trying to argue discuss where the hell we're going to live, my hubby is trying to hold the baby still while I clean up the other end.  So naturally the baby screeches louder and tries even harder to do back flips on his change table, effectively getting poop everywhere.  So I snap at hubby to hold him still, and he snaps at me that he's trying to.

And then he catches a glimpse of the rash from the antibiotics and is all, "Holy crap! I don't want him to have any more of that shit." And I'm like, "I already stopped giving it to him.  I knew that stuff would make him sick".  And then he says, "Well if you knew it would make him sick then why'd you give it to him?"  I think my jaw dropped because I saw the look on his face as he realized what he'd said.  But it was too late.  I had officially exceeded my ability to cope, and all my ugliness came bubbling over.  "So it's my fault he's sick?  You're an asshole."  And then I stomped off in a most mature fashion.

Now just to be clear, we're not a couple who call names or swear at each other.  We decided very early in the game that it was too damaging and promised we wouldn't do it.  So we squabble and bitch and even yell sometimes, but we don't hit below the belt.  Until today.  Anyway, my words apparently hurt me more than him because I was the one who ended up blubbering into the sofa cushion.  I felt terrible for reacting that way, but mostly I was upset that we had fought in front of the baby.  Another thing we promised never to do from the beginning.  And I hope we don't forget that promise again.

We ended up both apologizing and realizing that the combined stress of being exhausted, having a sick baby, and selling our house out from under us had gotten the better of us.  So at least we didn't go to bed mad at each other. 

But it was still the worst day ever.

Got the mac and cheese blues

Did you know that everything that is yummy has cheese or milk in it?  And I can't have it?

I'm on a strict dairy-free diet due to my son's milk allergy.  So as long as I'm breastfeeding him I'm not allowed to eat anything good.  Although I'd do anything for him, I can't help but feel a little sorry for myself - especially this time of year when comfort food becomes my lifeline until spring. 

Sure it was hard not having ice cream and milkshakes this summer, but now I'm missing out all the warm fall foods that require cheese, butter, and cream to be yummy.  I'm dreaming about lasagna, fettuccine alfredo, a big fat cheeseburger, cream soups with grilled cheese sandwiches, baked potatoes with sour cream and butter, pizza....mmmmpizza.  And I would literally KILL if someone tempted me with homemade mac and cheese.  

cheesy goodness

And CHOCOLATE...what I would do for some chocolate.  I think I'd eat a chocolate boot right about now.  In fact, I'd eat a cheese boot too.  And if I have to watch my husband savour another steaming cup of coffee with cream, I think I might stab him in the eye.  Sorry, honey. 

I'm trying to remind myself that I'm doing myself a healthy favour by avoiding all the fatty, high-calorie food...but who am I kidding?  I want it.  I need it. 

How's a girl supposed to stay warm in Canada without packin' on a few pounds for the winter?