The Nev-er-End-ing-Wiiiii-iiin-ter (sung to the theme from The Never Ending Story).

So I've been bitching alot about the weather lately, I know. In my defense, there are a couple of reasons for this. The first is this. Today is the 25th of March, which is technically spring. Seriously. And this is what our yard looks like today. Never mind the wind chill of oh, minus 20 or so.


This is, I know, the price I pay for living in Northern Canada, and for those incredibly long summer evenings when we are still sitting around the fire pit at 11 pm, drinking a beer and enjoying the smell of poplar smoke. Mmmmm, campfire smoke. But sadly, I digress.

The other reason the weather is grating so badly is that I read blogs, most of which are authored by people who live in other parts of the country, or continent. WHO ARE GARDENING. Or at least preparing to garden. Like the Pioneer Woman, who is getting dirty in Oklahoma. Or Amalah, who planted pansies this weekend in Washington, DC. These are the things that make me jealous, people. Because as you can tell from this picture, we are nowhere near being able to plant things.

But it doesn't stop me from dreaming, let me tell you. Last year was kind of a write-off for our garden/yard. I spent all of May working non-stop at my first teaching gig, so early planting didn't get done. And then on June 21 the beautiful BabyA entered our lives.

(Gratuitous Baby Shot)

Did I mention she entered our lives via C-section? I somehow didn't have even an inkling of how a C-section is major abdominal surgery, and since I wasn't even technically allowed to drive until the middle of August, gardening was not really an option. The truth is that I really don't remember a lot of last summer, and let me tell you, it shows. Our flower beds are overgrown with grass and weeds, as is our raised garden bed. So I'm soliciting suggestions on how to best deal with this mess, and prep my beds for spring. Comment below or email me. Please. Any and all suggestions are welcome.

In the mean time, I'm trying to make the best of this ridiculous, never-ending winter. Last night, I shot this bit of video of the snow falling outside BabyA's bedroom. While I am truly sick of the snow, I can still appreciate the beauty of a good snowfall. These snow flakes were so large that they cast a shadow as they fell between the light of the street lamp and the ground. It looked the the neighbour's driveway looked as though hundreds of tiny shadow creatures were flowing of it. I'm sure this video doesn't do it justice, but it was truly beautiful.

And that's how I know I'm from the North, I guess. As sick as I am of winter, I can still see the beauty in it. Even if at this point, its more of an impatient, let's get on with things kind of beauty.

On Being Sick and Parenting. Both of Them Badly

I'm posting again, and it hasn't even been one week. I wanted to point this out, so that no one would look at the date and realize this, and then faint in shock. Just so you know.

In other news, the parental guilt machine has kicked into overdrive. Because you know how I was bitching and moaning about BabyA being so cranky and clingy last time? Turns out that bit of a cough was the only visible/audible symptom of a brutally nasty cold that starts out with a sinus headache that makes your eyes feel as though they are bugging out of your head and your cheekbones are bruised and your head is a melon being pounded by a large rubber mallet. It then progresses to a body-wracking chest cough which makes you whole body ache and wakes you up in the night just to remind you that yes, you are still sick. In case you forgot while you were sleeping.

And how do I know this, you might ask? Why, because I am also sick now, of course! So while two sickly people in a house is worse than one, at least I'm no longer being a BAD, UNSYMPATHETIC parent, because I know exactly what BabyA is going through. And it sucks, just in case we weren't clear on that already.

In other news, I would like to state how sick I am (mentally this time) of whinter winter. Wait, is 'whinter' a combination of 'whine' and 'winter'? Because if so, that is exactly it! New word - whinter! I'm often sick of winter by this point in the year, but this year I think it is even worse. This may be because of the new, earlier daylight savings switch. Usually by the time it is light out until 8 pm the snow is mostly gone and some green grass may be peeking around the edges of buildings and fences. But with the new system, it is light at 8pm AND THERE IS TWO FEET OF SNOW ON THE GROUND. Two feet, people. This is seriously enough to make me want to move anywhere south or west of here. Preferably Vancouver or San Diego or L.A. or Texas. Anywhere there is NOT two feet of snow and MORE COMING DOWN RIGHT NOW, DAMMIT!!! Seriously, God, this is not cool anymore. It's just not.

So, anything else I can grouch about? Probably, yes, but instead I will be happy because my mother-in-law is now officially finished working at her old job, and is back to being available for visiting and babysiting on an occasional basis. She's been crazy busy the last couple months, and I've missed her visits. We're working on getting her reacquainted with BabyA to facilitate some babysitting at some point. So, not everything is dark and dire. I just have to remember that. Someday the snow will melt and my yard will be ready for gardening and the colour green will actually exist again. Someday....

The last tiny shard of patience winks out of existence...

It's officially been two weeks since I've posted anything here, which is disgraceful, I know. These last weeks have been that brand of busy that is peculiar to having a small child, wherein one is simultaneously busy caring for and entertaining one's child and mentally bored out of one's skull. I can only stack a pile of blocks just to watch them be knocked down so many times.

Seester and the three munchkins spent a couple of days with us last week, as the school-age kids were not in school due to Teachers' Conference. I have to say that I am utterly amazed at how quickly a 2 year old and a 5 year old can trash an entire house. BabyA isn't mobile yet, so we have a basket of toys on each level of the house, and those toys tend to stay in the general vicinity of the basket, unless she carries one of them upstairs on the way to a diaper change. But my two little neices managed to completely and utterly destroy that system during their visit, let me tell you. It really is a good thing that we give birth to infants, because if they came out as a toddler, I suspect no one would ever have more than one child.

This week has been the week from hell, really. I believe Baby A is teething, although as yet I have no evidence of such. She is generally cranky and whiny, and moves from being ecstatically happy to monumentally cranky in seconds, and it is driving me nuts. Also, in the past couple of months we had reached a state where I could alternate between playing with BabyA and doing a little housework, getting dinner ready, maybe being online a little. That, my friend, has been thrown out the window. It is now all BabyA, all the time. When I'm not holding her, she is whining to be held, and when I am holding her, she is squirming and whining for a reason which I cannot fathom. As I've already said, I suspect the culprit is teething and the general discomfort that accompanies this process, although she's also developed a bit of a cough in the last couple bdays which may be contributing to the crankiness. And on top of that, BabyA seems to have decided that nobody will do except me. No Daddy, no Nana, just mommy, non-stop. Aaarrgghh!!

Whatever it is, I am going crazy in tiny little guilt ridden segments. As of yesterday I officially lost my patience on the umpteenth time BabyA whined to be picked up, only to whine, arch her back, and squirm out of my arms, and I yelled. At my baby. I yelled, and then saw her eyes go all wide in surprise, and I tried to turn it into a hey look at mommy having fun and making noise,
and she totally seemed fine. But I knew I yelled at her, and that wide-eyed look nearly broke my heart. No matter how frustrated I get, I do not want to yell at my baby. I know this may have been the first time, and probably won't be the last, when I feel like the last tiny shard of patience and sanity I am clinging to disappears out from under me, but I really don't want to be a yeller.

So today, I woke up and decided that I had no expectations for the day. I wasn't going to try to clean, or tidy, or cook, or whatever. I was just going to be there for my baby. And you know what? Today was better. I don't know that BabyA was feeling better, but I just tried to let go of doing other stuff. When she fussed, I picked her up. When she squirmed, I found something new for her to focus onI'm not sure that she was less fussy, but things seemed to go more smoothly. No yelling, no pulling my hair out. I know this won't always work, but I had to remind myself that at least for now, I'm still on mat leave, and it is my job right now to take care of BabyA. The rest of it? All secondary. I will have other crazy crying weepy days, but for now I need to focus on my dearest girl, and hang on to every second before it slips away.

To Sum Up, Conflicted.

Today has been a long day. Not in any particularly bad day - BabyA is not sick or anything, and neither am I. It was just a long day of meeting the demands of an 8 moth old baby, and kind of being stuck in the house. And when GeekDad got home, he was exhausted, so I got to mind BabyA most of the evening as well. Which kind of sucked.

Don't get me wrong. I adore my girl in ways I cannot express in words. I could rhapsodize about her for days on end. But some days all I want is to be able to do something I want to do without being at the beck and call of my little one. Without having to be the one to feed her and entertain her and teach her and change her. Because even when GeekDad is minding her, I'm still the go-to girl for the unexplained wailing and flailing, and especially, for the boobie juice. And once in a while, just for a little bit, I wish for the untetheredness I used to have.

Days like today I feel very conflicted. Because generally I love being at home with my girl. There is nothing like having a little one erupt in gales of laughter simply because you waggled your eyebrows at them. Or watching her bounce up and down just because I stopped loading the dishwasher to look at her. It really is fabulous.

But on days like today I realize that I look forward to working again. To be teaching, and researching, and helping people, and being an adult in an adult world. I struggle with this, wondering if working at a regular job will make me a better mom, or a worse one. Will I be the mom who comes home rejuvenated from doing something I like, to be enjoy her baby all the more for having been away, or the one who is exhausted from trying to juggle more things than she is capable of and end up doing all of it poorly? I know the answer is likely somewhere in between, and will likely depend on the day. But knowing that in my head does nothing to relieve the conflicted, jittery emotions. Blah.

So, to sum up, today I'm feeling whiny and conflicted. Sorry I've subjected you all to this little rant. Just had to put it out there.

In other, less whiny news.....

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(please imagine angelic singing here).

I got the damned breadmaker to work for me, instead of against me. Finally. I ended up googling breadmaker problems, and found this website, which suggested less water and more salt, among other fabulous tips. And you know what? It worked!! I have an actual domed-top loaf, if slightly smallish, loaf of honey whole wheat bread. Yay!!!

Also in less whiny news, there is this. For which I am eternally and unequivocally grateful.

(Mis)Adventures in Baking Bread, also known as that ^#%#@@!!! Breadmaker.

It has been a bit of a rough week around Casa de la Maison. BabyA has been sick with a cold, and not surprisingly, cranky as all get out. The good news is that she seems to be past the worst of it. There was much less snot and crankiness today, and she seems to be able to nurse again, thank GAWD. I seriously cannot say how thankful I am for a healthy baby.

In other news, my *&(*&%&^$$%^&#$!!!!!!!!!!! breadmaker. My mom purchased us a breadmaker last weekend, and I've have yet to get a normal loaf out of the damn thing. I wish I had taken pictures of each loaf as I went, but that didn't occur to me until it was too late, so this picture of my most recent loaf will have to scar your psyche stimulate your imaginations.



Note the caldera-like crater in the top of the loaf. This is due, I believe, to an overabundance of yeast in the recipe, which causes the bread to over-rise. And by over-rise, I mean rise so much that it pushes up the lid of the breadmaker like a whole-wheat balloon, punctures the loaf, and then collapses back in on itself, all while leaving a rim of bread flopping over the top of the pan which subsequently burns and leaves the top of the loaf a doughy, under-cooked mess. GRRRRRAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!

Seriously, I wish I could show you pictures of the first loaf of lovely Cracked Wheat Sandwich Loaf pushing up the lid of the breadmaker and leaking halfway down the sides of the f)(*(&%^$^%%^(^'n machine. (I think a picture of the look on my face when I came downstairs and discovered this state of affairs might afford you a few laughs, but I didn't get one of those either). This was the loaf where I used 1 1/2 x the called-for amount of yeast, on the advice of my mother, who said we live at a higher altitude, and therefore I would likely need more yeast, and her boss had baked a perfect loaf by doubling the amount of yeast called for. So I chalked that one up to too much yeast.

One the second loaf, I followed the recipe perfectly. And the result? Almost exactly the same as the first. Exploding dough? Check. Burnt crust? Check. Undercooked top? Check. Grrrarrrggg? Check.

For my third loaf, I used a whole wheat recipe from the internet, instead of from the instruction booklet. It was a smaller recipe, and used considerably less yeast, so I figured at most I'd have a too-small loaf. But no, I got ANOTHER perfect caldera-loaf.

Try number four was a white-bread loaf from the instruction booklet again. I figured maybe it was the flour I was using or something. I got a very pretty loaf of bread, tasty, nicely browned, AND AS DENSE AND HEAVY AS A GAWDDAMNED POUND CAKE. Seriously.



I know this picture looks all pretty, but my friend T actually gasped when I handed him a piece. It's ridiculous.



So this picture? Is try number five. This time again with the Cracked Wheat recipe from the instruction booklet, but with 1 3/4 tsp. yeast instead of the called-for 4 tsps. I'm talking less than HALF the amount the recipe says. But, as you can see, I've once again achieved a beautifully crusted, heavy as hell, caldera loaf. I think perhaps I purchased some kind of mutant over-achiever yeast or something, which is actually depressing, because by the time I've figured out this recipe, I will be out of yeast and may be right back at the beginning. I'm already running out of flour, powdered milk, and cracked wheat. Seriously.

I'm going to try this recipe one more time, this time with 1 1/2 tsps. of yeast, because I know that the dough only overexpanded close to the end of the cycle this time. I checked it with about 15 minutes left, and the dough was near the top but not touching it. So here goes. If I get a good loaf, I'll jump up and down for joy, have a celebratory drink, Twitter about it to all my followers, and blog about it asap. Come to think of it, I'll probably do the same if it fails again too. Ah, whatever. C'est la vie, or le pain, as the case may be.

The Authoritative Allocation of a Scare Resource, or Hope Can Still Get Me Choked Up.

Heads up all - I'm about to talk politics here. But I promise to keep it short, if not simple*.

Here's the thing. I was watching President Obama's visit to Canada last week. There was a moment when he arrived on Parliament Hill, greeted PM Harper, and then went back outside and waved at the two thousand or so people who were waiting to see him. I'd been watching the coverage of 'This is where President Obama will land' and 'This is President Obama's motorcade' and 'This is the building where there's a room where President Obama will be meeting with so-and-so,' and was thinking "Geez, we are like 12-year-old girls with a crush on this guy." And then, just for a moment, when he made a point of greeting the people there to see him, I got a little choked up. I, the political cynic, got choked up at an American president waving at people. What is up with that??!!

I've been thinking about it, and I think I have an answer, or at least the beginning of one. Hold on, here comes the theory. One of the first things I learned in pol-sci (political science) class is that politics is all about the allocation of scarce resources - who gets what, and when, and how. It is also about power - who gets to make these decisions about allocation of resources. Now, we usually understand this in a formal way, ie. we vote someone into office, they make up the government, they makes the decisions on our behalf.

But this also happens in a much less formal way, through ideas and influence. For example, people start talking about the how the West kept getting screwed, and the West wanted in, and suddenly the Reform Party had decimated the Progressive Conservative party in Western Canada, the two merged into the Conservative Party, and now the Prime Minister is from Calgary. Trust me on this, ideas matter. But despite all this, people are more cynical than ever about politics and politicians, because whether the West is or is not 'in', things haven't really changed in Ottawa. In fact, there is less cooperation and more bickering and infighting than ever in our capital.

To go back to the idea of allocating resources, we all know that the more scarce a resource, the ore valuable it is. That's why gold is more valuable than say, steel. If you look at that in a political context, one of the most scarce, and therefore valuable resources is hope. We are all so cynical about politics and politicians that we don't even think about it anymore. We don't really expect politicians to keep their election promises, we don't even flinch when they talk about accountability, and we don't even bother watching Question Period, because watching all the posing and posturing just gets tiring. We don't even think anything else is possible anymore.

But Obama has changed this, not only for Americans, but for the rest of the world. His speeches about the audacity of hope made people believe that change in politics is actually possible. And what struck me in watching all the hoopla around his Canadian visit was the respect with which
he treated other people. Not just other politicians, but the press, and the general public. There was none of the usual attitude of 'I'm too important for this shit,' and man, was it refreshing.

Now, I'm not expecting Obama to be perfect. There will be changes and adjustments as he takes office. I would actually be worried if there were no revisions to policies, because, as former PM Mulroney said on The Hour the other night, being in office ain't the same as campaigning for it. Obama and his staff are in the midst of a monumental learning curve, and they have to have room to move. But it really heartened me to see the basic respect with which Obama treated the people around him, and I really think we could use a dose of that in Canadian politics. Respect, hope, and change have been in short supply, but that only makes them more valuable, not less. Here's hoping we can find someone on the Canadian political scene that can harness these scarce resources as well as Obama has, and give us a chance to say it - Yes, We Can. That, my friends, is something to get choked up about.

(*Apparently it's not short either. What can I say, I'm trying to wring every bit out of that mountain of student debt.)

Not the soundtrack of the Oscars, but the Oscars as soundtrack.

You would think after 8 months with BabyA that I would've learned that one cannot pay close attention to Television Events and parent. Generally these days, I tend to catch bits and pieces of shows, but rarely an entire coherent narrative. So what in the hay-ell, you might ask, possessed me to think that I could watch the Oscars? While caring for sick baby, and making supper, and unpacking a new breadmaker, with the intention of making bread? That, my friends, is a most question.

Here's the thing - I love, love, love watching the Oscars. If I knew enough other people in this town who also loved the Oscars, I would host a party with those tiny little hors d'oeuvres and lots of alcohol and an Oscar pool. I would even host movie nights before the Oscars, just so we could all see the movies that have been nominated. I'm not sure why I love them so much, because I haven't usually seen all, or even most of the nominated movies. I usually end up just cheering for whatever I've seen. But I get a crazy kick of watching people dress up in ridiculously expensive and beautiful outfits and celebrate the wackiness that is Hollywood.

This year, I got to spend the evening with GeekDad who patiently sat through hours of boring entertainment stuff', and even gave me updates of what was happening while I unpacked groceries and made dinner.
"OK, now it's the best soundtrack. OK,. there's two songs from Slumdog, and one from Wall-E. OK, the one from Slumdog won."
All this while entertaining a slightly manic and sickly baby. The man is a gem, I tell you

I really didn't get to watch much of the Oscar broadcast at all - it was more like the they were soundtrack for my evening of doing other stuff. My overall impressions were lots of Hugh Jackman (which is NEVER a bad thing) and musicals (which is slightly more questionable). I think that the Oscar producers were/are trying to get back to an old-school dramatic feel, as opposed to the kind of cynical, self-reflexive comedy that they've gone with in recent years. Unfortunately, I didn't actually see enough of the broadcast to tell you whether or not it was successful. I came in about the time that Kunio Kato ended his acceptance speech for best animated short with "Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto," and you know, I think that may have been the high point of the evening. By the time the big awards were on, BabyA had reached her limit, and we were off prepping her for bed.

Which brings me to what was the defining not for my weekend. BabyA's cold has reached that point where she is too stuffed up to breastfeed, and despite our best efforts at nasal hydration and homeopathic remedies, any attempts at feeding result in frustration on both our parts. I find it heart breaking, because I know she feels shitty, and I want nothing more than to comfort her, but everytime I try to cuddle her, she seems to become frustrated that I can't giver her what she wants. GeekDad actually rocked her to sleep for the first time tonight, which I'm ever so grateful for. I just wish it were under less stressful circumstances. All I can say is that I this had better not be a result of teething, because DAMN. This sick baby stuff is rough on all of us.