Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Tip Me Over...

...and pour me out!

Child o'mine is ooooooobsessed with pouring and dumping things out. All day, every day he converts his normal non-pool/bath toys into mechanisms for pouring or dumping. He's done with his water, he dumps it on the floor. His mega blocks are no longer for stacking but only for the fun of dumping them out of the bag and then making me play 3942 mega-block-pick-up. My favorite game.

But there is nothing quite like the joy of pouring water from the bathtub or kiddie pool from various oddly sized and shaped vessels. Especially when looking like a beach bum comes so naturally.



Special thanks to Grandparents Bruce and Janet for the purchase of the kiddie pool. And special thanks to Grandparents Merry and Roger for the use of the backyard in order to set up said kiddie pool.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Crunchy Granola....Bars.

We all already know my views on babywearing. I'm fairly outspoken about my views on breastfeeding. My son shared our bed until he was 11 months old. We use cloth diapers (when yeast isn't invading our household).

In internet terminology (mostly nerdy parenting forums) the term "crunchy" or "granola" refers to someone who is natural or a hippie. Now, I'm not one to ascribe to many of the ideologies that came out of the 60's but I do like to do things au naturale whenever possible. You know, except for like not shaving cause yeah, well....eww.

So it shouldn't be of any surprise that my son is wearing a necklace made from Baltic Amber which I purchased from Inspired by Finn (do I get something for plugging their name?) I've put this off for a long time. Mainly for fear of 2.0's reaction to his son wearing a necklace. But these molars are killing me and these things are supposed to have some sort of magical mystical quality that takes away pain. Or some kind of acid that works as an analgesic when in close contact with one's skin. It's probably not a good idea to mention acid and the 1960's in the same post. Either way, parents all over the place are raving about them and how they work and make your baby sleep better and take away teething crankiness, blah blah. And they hooked me with some kind of 30% off discount when you mention them on facebook...I'm a sucker.
What was 2.0's reaction, you ask? The following is taken from a transcript of our txt message conversation after I sent him a picture via phone -

Me: Check out Mozy's new amber necklace.
2.0: What? He's 80's now? Does it have a gold cross too?
Me: And who wore emo silver bean chokers in high school? That would be you.
2.0: Now all he needs is a miniature red Fiaro that he can wash while listening to Van Halen on his boom box.

End Transmission.

Add to the previous list of crunchy qualities and homeopathic teething remedies the fact that I juuuuuust baked homemade granola bars....yeah. Free monogamous love, baby.

Peace!


Oh and sorry this is blurry - he was running at me shouting like a banshee.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

The week from hell.

It's been a long time since I've written here. This topic is so much deeper and so much more painful than anything I've ever spoken of in this space.

Sometimes, during our days there is less being spoken but more being said. There are times of quiet where 2.0 and I just reflect and express our thoughts in glances, the way married couples so often do. Every day the hurt ebbs and flows, gets stronger and then is more tolerable. Two steps forward, one step back. The dance of healing. Getting worse and then getting better.
Pain is pain, no matter if it is emotional or physical it still hurts. No one can take away your physical pain or make a cut heal faster for you. In like manner, no one can bear this burden for us nor make us heal any faster than we will. Time heals all wounds, right?

No matter what it always comes back to the fact that we lost our baby. We lost our baby. A child we tried for and wanted so badly. Come back, little one. Maybe that body just wasn't right for you and you need something stronger. Oh God, please take care of my little one or send him/her back to me.

No matter how little you were, you will always be a part of our family. The pain might fade but the memory never will. We love you,

Your Mum-mum, Da, and big brother.