Dearest Mommy Bloggers

I love being a Mom. Here are a few things you should know about me and my now 3 year old:
1. I was never a baby-wearer
2. I tried breastfeeding only to have to stop after 3 months due to short milk supply
3. I vaccinated my child
4. My child sat in a forward-facing stroller (studies have shown it increases stress in babies?)
5. Among other things, he eats chocolate, ice cream, cookies and occassionally stuff from a can
6. I use(d) disposable diapers
7. My baby didn't "sign"
8. He watches movies (I've lost count of the number of times he's seen Ice Age or Finding Nemo or INSERT DISNEY MOVIE)
9. He drinks juice, a lot of juice (though I have been trying to cut back)
10. He's had some form of childcare since he was 3 months old.
11. I have been known to bribe my child to do my bidding.


I appreciate all of you who have done the opposite of all of the above and I've learned a lot about parenthood from your thoughtful, educated words and posts. But if you've come here to learn about the latest baby wearing sling, research on vaccinations or recipes for homemade, eco-friendly baby food, it's time to click "Next blog". I don't subscribe to any particular parenting philosophy either.

I'm just a Mom enjoying the journey and learning as I go. Come along for the ride. You're sure to find something to make you nod knowingly, giggle, gasp or gag. None of us are perfect. We learn from our own upbringing, each other and from the plethora of information readily available thanks to the Web.

I feel honoured to be a part of the mommy blogosphere. J

Of Berries, Bowls and Grass

So I have the boy home for 2 weeks with me while he transitions between old, summer and new daycare. Finding it hard to concentrate on this post as So You Think You Can Dance is on...

Anyhoo...what to do with a super active 3-year old who recently decided he was soooo over naptime! Not that I’M on vacation...still trying to hit the computer to keep up with email, writing press releases and doing all the household stuff. Boy it’ll be a nasty two weeks. Watch out men...the claws are coming out and there will be wounds...

Not sure what inspired me...likely came from a place of pure desperation. No longer could I let the son sit through another showing of Horton Hears a Who, gulping down his nth juice box...the pangs of guilt and echoes of “Bad Mommy” were too hard to ignore. I hauled out three plastic kitchen bowls, filled them with water, sat them on the deck with the newly purchased bag of dinosaurs and let him at it. Add a handful of some nameless edible berries growing on a tiny tree in our backyard and you have a recipe for a good hour of fun.

Pretty amazing how the simplest everyday items thrown together can entertain. And the shiny and expensive bicycle with training wheels sits in the storage space.

Does potty training EVER end? Six months ago I was SuperMom (in my own mind), having successfully trained my two and a half year old to poo and pee on the potty seat on the toilet. Ok, so it was an excrutiating week of him perched comfortably on the toilet, me ass on bench in front of the toilet and both of us reading and singing. Both of us waiting, him patiently and me not-so-patiently for the sound of a tinkle or a plop. Not without its challenges, we made it through sheer perseverance and determination. There have been, are and continue to be some notable setbacks. His bladder and bowel seem to be direct lines to stress for him, so accidents coincided with major changes in his life. We also figured out that his potty seat (the kind that fits under the toilet lid) is like a security blanket or a dodo. We literally have to cart the thing around with us everywhere we go. Forgetting it, even 15 minutes into a drive, results in a U-turn.

That said, someone’s Wee Wee (yes, we call it a wee, wee not a penis, sorry) is growing and when he really needs to GO, potty seat or not, it’s everywhere BUT in the toilet. So the time has come for the little boy to learn to peepee like a big man. To make a long story short, little man is traumatized at the sight of making a MESS. So attempt #1, which again, went everywhere but in the toilet, resulted in something much worse than a wee mess...a complete meltdown.

We had originally thought it was about peeing standing up. We were wrong. Little man discovered in the last day or so the joys of the great outdoors and “Mama, peepee on the GRASS”. At first, we were elated. “Look, he’s peeing standing up!” And then I recalled an episode of Super Nanny with some bat shit crazy kids, one of whom (around 4) refused to pee in the toilet and only peed in the bushes. No WAY was I going to be THAT Mom. Look, I’m already THAT Mom on a lot of fronts so I don’t need another notch in my Tsk, Tsk Mommy utility belt.

So today after a few pees outside, lamely justified by the fact that we were INDEED outside, I dug my heels in. When little man asked to “Peepee in the Grass Mommy” while inside, I took the little prince by the hand and led him to the throne room. Me kneeling on the bathroom floor, him standing on the IKEA bench, trying to step off, protesting with grunts and words, trying to hold IT in. At this point I’m supporting most of his weight and am sweating so profusely that hubby started opening and closing the bathroom door quickly to fan me off. “Just like on the grass. You can do it. Good boy.” At this point the team of us are in there trying to talk him down and the pee out. It was bad.

And just when I was about to run for the grass, a glorious stream...You never heard two big people make such a fuss over urine before, trust me. Our little Prince’s last words before lights out tonight were, “Bravo me”.

We’ll keep you posted. Pic coming for this post once i find the doohickey that connects my mobile to my laptop

7 Secrets to a Happy Marriage

Hubby and I will be married for seven years tomorrow. Yup, I’m all stocked up on calamine lotion in case I need to douse him with it to relieve symptoms of itching! Wow, 7 years of...

bliss, fighting, vacations, separations (as in business trips, not actual on-the-way-to-divorce separations), fighting, bliss, hand holding, other intimate things, eating, housework, drinking, loving, celebrating anniversaries, motherhood, fatherhood, fighting, longing, moving, more moving, ok: country hopping, fireworks, public holidays, birthdays, friendships, fighting , kissing, hugging, strangling, dishware throwing, swimming, laughing, socializing, dinner parties, pretending you didn’t fart, blaming farts on the dog, dressing up, getting dressed, undressing, fashions, cleaning up vomit and poo, foolishness, stupidity, growing, ageing, deaths, births, presents, more presents, surprises, crying, supporting, stroking, doing dishes, doing more dishes, dancing, doing INSERT HOUSEHOLD CHORE, hair styles and colours, pets, in-law, out-laws, Vegas, Italy, Dominican, Montenegro, Croatia, Serbia, Ontario, Nova Scotia, PEI, Sweden, Vegas, airports, airport pick-ups, airport drop-offs, so many countries and cities, learning, working, pretending to be working, faking headaches or stomach cramps or INSERT SYMPTOM, pretending to be asleep, gaining weight, losing weight, gaining weight but pretending to have lost weight, gossiping, placing bets on how long your friends’ marriages will last, swearing and always, always, praying...and everything in between, for better or for worse...from that day forward, seven years ago.

So after all this, I figure I’m an expert at marriage. Yup. Have marriage problems? Drop me a line. I should hand myself a degree. Maybe I’ll whip up a quick one using PhotoShop and frame it. Here they are, the 7 Secrets to a Happy Marriage, in no particular order.

1. Never go to bed angry. Go to bed with a smile on your face as you plot how to make your spouse pay for the mistake he just made, and the duration he will pay for said mistake.
2. Share the housework equally. When that doesn’t work and his dirty socks are still at the end of the bed, just do it all yourself and play martyr.
3. Listen and respond thoughtfully to your partner’s needs. I heard what you just said and I am thoughtfully pointing out that the suitcases are in the hall closet.
4. There is no “I” in Team. But there IS an “I” in Idiot.
5. Pay your partner a compliment each day. “This is good but could use more cumin” is called a backhanded compliment and could result in the back of my hand coming into contact with your face. “You look thin in that dress” implies that I look like a lardass in every other piece of clothing I own and warrants an extremely expensive shopping trip for a new wardrobe of thin clothes.
6. Take some time out to rekindle the spark each week. Setting fire to the stash of love letters from old girlfriends he kept all this time does count.
7. Make sure your partner gets time for themselves. Privacy in the bathroom, running to the store to get milk, taking the garbage out and SLEEP do not count. Oh and neither do weekly weight watchers weigh-ins or time at the gym. Neither does surfing questionable websites. Yeah, I know the signs: Sudden increase in mouse clicking, rapid screen flashing, fast-talking while mouse clicking and screen flashing and pathetic, but often successful, attempts at distraction, “Is that the baby I hear?”

Disclaimer: Not my Real 7 Secrets. I don’t have 7 Secrets. I don’t even have 1 Secret. But I’m still happily married after 7 years, so I (we) must be doing something right. Please don’t call me or write me with your marital woes. The only certificate I’ll be Photoshopping is one that says, “We made it another year”. We’ll let you know if we ever figure out how we keep making these milestones. Happy Anniversary My Love and Here’s to Another 7! xoxo

A Letter to my son on his 3rd Birthday

Today you turned “fweee yeez ohd”. It seems yesterday you were but a wide-eyed pink pooping machine I had no idea what to do with. But today you are three. And Mummy is so proud of you.

Of course I’m proud that by the miracle of humanity, in the past year, you learned to run, sing, find new ways of expressing yourself and have almost mastered peeing and pooping in the potty. But I’m most proud of the little person you’re growing to become and am privileged to be your steadfast guide and comfort through this wallop of an adventure that is our life.

You’re resilient. I want to apologize to you my son. For all the change you’ve had to endure this past year. Plucked from your life with loving Mary Poppins to a school full of foreign kids and too few teachers. From daily strolls along the seashore to daily drives around town. From the warm Adriatic waters to a backyard pool. From a language planted in you from 3 months old to having to start all over again with new sounds and words. From the comfort of a loving, supportive circle of friends— who became family to, luckily, a new, smaller circle.

But I want to Thank God for your wonderful ability to adapt and thrive, lay down your roots somewhere new while still cherishing the faces from your infancy. I admire this quality most in you baby boy. So perhaps I won’t apologize fully. Your Dad and I brought you to this new country for opportunity and the way you’ve blossomed will ensure you’re that much stronger on your journey to manhood.

You’re happy. I often wonder how many parents can say their toddlers are really happy. But you truly smile from the time you jolt me out of dreams with “Mama, wake up!” to the time we say goodnight after prayers (and you continue screaming “Goodnight” “See you soon!” as I’m on my way down the stairs). You cry when “Mama, I huht maseff (I hurt myself)” or when you know you’re in deep doodoo. But God that smile...I’m thankful for it every day.

You’re smart. I had no idea you could speak Swedish until you surprised me by singing along with your little Swedish troup at your daycare performance. There you were, in the front row, covered completely in muck, in the rain, singing your little heart out. I had no idea what you were saying, but I cried anyway. You know your colours and the alphabet, your shapes and have even memorized the words to your favourite books. You’re a little parrot, repeating everything your teachers say to learn to speak their language.

You’re loving. From stopping to chase and pet the “KAT-TEN” on our nightly walks to those big open-mouthed kisses to asking where your brother is if he’s not sitting in his usual spot when you come home. You may not be an entertainer when the family Skype Shows begin, but your grandparents and far-away family should know that you ask about them at the oddest times: On the car ride to and from daycare, in the grocery store with a mouthful of ice cream cone or usually five minutes after a Skype call has ended. People are drawn to your spirit little one. I saw it today. The two high school helpers assigned to your school were waiting for YOU to arrive. You’re a little charmer, just like your Dad.

You’re beautiful. My favourite part of everyday happens sometime around 5am. I open my eyes instinctively to see your sleepy eyes hovering by my pillow. I don’t always remember the part where I pick you up and lay you next to me but I wake up every morning to you snuggled in between your Dad and I. Your hair has gone from black at birth to white blonde to a now darker shade, marking the moments of change in your life. I miss your face during the day and enjoy that very instant you see me, stop play and run with arms wide open. We could never make another one like you.
So today your father, brother and I will trek over to your school at 2:30 with a lactose, strawberry, kiwi and plum FREE “Lightning McQueen” cake and we’ll join your class in singing Happy Birthday. We won’t have your grandparents, aunts & uncles or cousin with us to celebrate, but we will have each other and best of all, we have you.
Happy 3rd Birthday my son.
Love, your Proud Mummy xoxo
July 30, 2009

From East to West Part 1: Healthcare

We moved to Sweden in January, after a 2.5 year adventure in the Adriatic Beauty that is Montenegro. Bordering the jewel of the Adriatic, Croatia, Montenegro really is the best kept secret of the former Yugloslavia and in 2007 was named the fastest growing tourist destination in the world by the World Travel & Tourism Council.

Snow-capped mountains, blue waters and lush green vegetation abound. We packed up our life in Canada at the request of our dear Swedish property developer friend and headed to a country we knew virtually nothing about, excluding compulsory Internet searches of course. I was 7 months pregnant at the time but had sense and opportunity enough to fly back to Canada to give birth to the little guy.

I digress. I'll save the long story of our life in the Wild Beauty (cue Montenegro tourism commercial as seen on CNN) for another post. But after spending almost six months as a resident of Sweden, I thought it was about time to compare life in this Eastern European country (freshly independent from Serbia circa 2006) to life in one of the richest Western European countries. This will be a weekly series I believe, because there's too much to say and I don't know when to stop typing. So here goes,

From East to West Part 1: Healthcare
Montenegro
Highlights:
- If your employer will pay for it, you have access to free healthcare, though some specialists have private practices if you can afford it
-For 30 euro (well it was 20, then went up when she figured we were rich), we got a private pediatrician to make home visits for Joseph. Perfect. No waiting around in archaic waiting rooms with dozens of other sick and screaming kids. And when we were forced to go into the local health center for vaccinations, we were always first in line!

Lowlights:
-7 months pregnant and must undergo (and pass) full physical in order to get work permit. After running around all over the health center and various places in town to receive paperwork and stamps on said paperwork, we're ushered into the doc with the final say. We take our seats, look up to see this Santa Claus of a doctor lighting a fresh cigarette. In front of me. 7 months pregnant me. In a hospital. -When it was time to renew our work permits and undergo another physical, we each slipped $20 into our passports and voila! Clean bill of health. No tests necessary (maybe that's also a highlight?)
-Pediatrician once strongly urged us to use our vacuum cleaner to clean out kid's snotty nose.
The bottom line: If you have money, you get the treatment for better or worse.

Sweden
Highlights:
- Modern, state-of-the-art facilities and highly trained doctors. THE place to get sick.
- Free healthcare to every citizen (paid for by ginormous taxes). Though you do have to pay a "processing fee" of about 70 SEK up front for appointments.
- Short wait times: Caveat: Apparently, there's a lot of disussion in Sweden about long wait times but I personally have waited no more than 10 minutes, which could be explained by one of the lowlights (keep reading)or luck.
- When I've managed to get my son in to see a doctor (a rare occassion, keep reading), the doctor greets us BOTH with a handshake. Seriously..even my two+-year old. So cute and respectful.

Lowlights:
-Gestapo-like checkpoints are set up to prevent mostly everybody from getting an actual doctor's appointment. It's called 1177 and it's a number you call if you're sick. You explain your symptoms and the call usually ends with, "Oh, you don't have to see a doctor. It's just the flu. It's just a cold. If there's blood coming out of his ears, call us back." I come from a culture where we go to the doctor at the least sign of trouble, which likely contributes to the long wait times. "Take him to the doctor". But I can't. Oh I've begged and pleaded but the few times I've actually passed through the gates have been because I've blatantly exagerrated. And sure enough, nothing ends up being wrong. Go figure.
-I've gotten some MAJOR shit from Swedish friends over taking my son to the doctor too. "Jenn, he doesn't NEED to see a doctor!" Geez, Let the damn DOCTOR tell me that ok?!
Bottom line: They don't care who you are or who you know or how much money you have. We're all the same and receive the same.

Shine a little light on me...please!

So I have a confession to make. I have this "thing" with indoor lighting. Ok, so it's more of a compulsion. Not the kind of compulsion where I have a house of lamps and strategically placed smelly candles. Just an obsession with certain lights in the house always needing to be "on".

The light above the stove and the light above the sink must be on at all times. Joe's former Nanny experienced this anal attribute when I finally confronted her about her perpetual need to turn OFF the light above the stove. She turned it off. I turned it on. We went on like this for awhile until I finally explained, "Look. I just NEED this light on, ok?" Must have been the deadpan tone and the urgent delivery as she never turned it off again. Though I'm sure she likely turned around and rolled her eyes. Can't say I blame her.

Why this oddball quirk with lighting? Was I imprisoned in a dark cellar as a child? Not that I can recall. Am I afraid of the dark? No more than anyone else. Maybe some brilliant psychiatrist can shine some light on the situation. Even if he/she offered a free comfy couch session, I wouldn't take it. It's my thing. I'm not looking to be cured. Just telling you all how it is.

So today...I stumbled down to the kitchen to notice the light above the sink OFF. Not sure who in this house would have the nerve to screw with my lighting. Turns out it's gone...poof...the big burn out. I'm in panic mode. It's thrown my whole day off. Back up of dirty dishes in the sink. Dishwasher turned on at the wrong time, throwing the whole dish cleaning schedule off. Ended up surfing the blogosphere all day cuz I couldn't focus. To top it all off, I left for the grocery store without the damn bulb. Another dim day ahead tomorrow...

Doohickey Mondays

“Swedish for Common Sense”. We all know where to attribute that slogan, don’t we? The birthplace, of IKEA (cool, build-it-yourself shit), Volvo (economical, fuel-efficient, last-a-lifetime cars) and of course ABBA (music everyone can shake a leg to), it’s no wonder Sweden is full of practical gadgets and gizmos. The “ooohs” and “aaaahs” followed by “That is the coolest thing.” “How come we don’t have these in Canada?” have become a regular part of my vocabulary since I started coming here almost 10 years ago.

Seriously, they have the coolest, “How come we never thought of that?” stuff in this country. So I decided every week, I’d share one of these doohickeys with the world. Alright, so maybe you’ve seen these things before outside of Sweden and I’ve been living under a rock my entire life, but that doesn’t make them any less practical and in my mind, revolutionary!

1. The Sink Peel Cleaner:

How many times have you peeled potatoes over the trash bin to end up peeling the peelings from the side after you’re done? Or maybe you peel your veggies in the sink only to be scraping leftovers up with soppy paper towel?

Introducing The Sink Peel Cleaner. Grab this flexible plastic doohickey , scoop up the peels, seeds and pits and dump into the trash bin. Even has built-in drainage holes. Ok, so it is made of plastic but look at all the trees you’re saving!

I haven’t seen a Swedish kitchen without one of these. I got so excited about it on one trip, I bought a bunch to take home and dispense to friends and family. You’d think I was giving each of them a Volvo by the way I prattled on about its functionality, design and efficiency. Judging by the artificial smiles, they weren’t as excited by the piece of plastic as I was.

No revolution happening in Canadian kitchens. In fact, I’m sure they’ve all been stuffed in junk drawers . But where they should be is occupying some coveted counter space behind the dish soap.