Tag Archives: relationships

Every Mommy Needs a Daddy Sometimes

Posted on February 15, 2013 | 14 Comments

So after yet another night of four feedings I groggily and reluctantly woke up before the sunrise because Baby H said so. I went down, popped a T-Disc in the machine and cried to myself a little bit. I miss my friend Sleep so much, although I somehow don’t feel it so much during the day. I miss it in the throes of lacking it, when J is fast asleep and snoring.

I came back upstairs to where my little wiggle monster was, well, wiggling around in his bassinet. I flipped on the TV to find a familiar scene unfolding.

Screen shot 2013-02-15 at 7.43.01 AM

As a pregnant lady watching this movie last summer I definitely related most to the Elizabeth Banks character. Despite people telling me that I had ‘that glow’, I did not have that glow. It was just sweat. Buckets and buckets of sweat. To be fair, it was the hottest summer on record and I had no air conditioning, but still. I spent the last months of my pregnancy flopping around on the couch feeling like I’d never be comfortable ever again.

So, given this information, and the fact that I have clearly forgotten it, why on earth do I feel twinges of envy as friend after friend announces their summer babies on the way and posts adorable belly bump pictures? They are still small enough that they really are glowing and lovely. Maybe that’s why. Maybe if they were posting pictures of themselves looking like beached whales or Violet Beauregarde post-blueberry incident I might not feel that little bit of envy.

Two days before the birth of H... see the resemblance?

Two days before the birth of H… see the resemblance?

Why on earth would I miss being pregnant? Besides being huge and uncomfortable, I was a sleep deprived hormonal nightmare. I haven’t slept since August! I have no sleep in the foreseeable future. And while I don’t begrudge J his sleep (ok, I do begrudge him just a smidgen of sleep), I have in fact, as Amy at Pregnant Chicken (<- Pregnant women, click that link. You’ll thank me later.) warned, stared at his sleeping, peaceful face at 2am and wondered what the hell the point of him is. In those sleepless 2am moments, especially post-baby, as I stumble around blearily trying to figure out if the baby needs to be changed, nursed, or both, I think of J simply as “the sperm donor” and feel like he couldn’t possibly be the father because he clearly abandons me in every 2am moment of need. If only the men had the boobs… (ok, no. I love breastfeeding and wouldn’t give it up for any amount of uninterrupted sleep, and that’s the truth!).

Sperm Donor

Ok, to the point. On those nights I don’t really feel abandoned. That’s the deal. He needs to get up at 5am to work every day, and he operates heavy machinery. I’d be a pretty horrible person if I expected him to share in the sleepless nights. However, despite my supermom status, I must admit that sometimes I need him. And so does the baby. The other night, I was having a moment (or several). For the life of me, I could not get little H to sleep. He’s normally really easy to put to bed! Nurse him or pop a soother in and he’s fast asleep in 5. This night, though, I felt like my baby had been replaced by a banshee. He screamed until he was purple in the face, tears streaming from his eyes. I tried everything but he could not be consoled. This is how J found us upon arriving home from work at 10pm (where he’d been since 6am). I fully anticipated that he’d disappear into the basement or to bed and leave me to deal with the shit show we’d created. Instead I was pleasantly surprised. He came into the room and started talking to the screaming, writhing mass that I suspected was the baby but was no longer sure. My head was throbbing and I couldn’t think clearly. All of a sudden there was silence as H listened to his daddy’s voice. There was still some pouting and gasping going on, so J picked up the baby and off they went to play in front of the mirror and have a little chat. An hour later a perfectly calm little angel child was returned to me and we fell asleep side by side, which is where J found us 6 hours later at 5am. It was a miracle.

So you see girls, there is a point to him. If you’re tempted in those last days of pregnancy or early days of baby to stab him with a fork as he lies there sleeping like an angel (or snoring like at trucker), hold off. Think about it for a few days to make sure its what you really want to do. You might end up regretting it because even though it may not seem like it during those sleepless nights, every mommy needs a daddy sometimes.

S and J

→ 14 Comments

Posted in Daily Life, Parenthood, Parenting, Pregnancy, Relationships

Tagged , , , , , ,

Relationship Misadventures Part II: Hormone Hell

Posted on October 22, 2012 | 6 Comments

J and I spent the majority of this weekend fighting. I will say 2 things about this straight off:

  1. Yes, I can feel that I am insane and that I overreact to everything right now. Hello, I’m pregnant.
  2. J fails at understanding how to deal with pregnant women… ok, maybe that’s too harsh. I’d say that 50% of the time he’s alright at it (although a few more moments of praise and massages without the occasional slap or tickle would be nice…), but when he forgets to zip it all hell breaks loose.

Basically, it’s a bad combo. As this pregnancy is winding down, and by winding down I mean kicking into full gear, the situation could risk getting explosive. I’d love to say that I can keep things in perspective, but I really can’t. The sight of my feet is enough to bring me to tears. My new stretch marks make me want to scream. I haven’t slept properly in at least 2 months, which I’m sure also plays a factor. Those books that claim to be tell-all guides to pregnancy are so full of crap, because let me tell you, I could write at least 200 pages discussing little documented pregnancy facts that would make any woman declare her lady bits a sperm free zone. But I won’t do that… or maybe I will. Maybe that’s the solution to our population problem… hmmm. It will just never get published because it will be full of profanity and will discuss parts of the body that most people are uncomfortable with. 

Closed for business

So, given my discomfort, try to understand this one:

J and I were fighting about the dog who, in her puppiest of puppy moments, decided to chew a two foot long hole in the hot tub cover last weekend. Yes, that sucks, but it does not make her the devil. She hasn’t chewed one thing in the house and is really very angelic for the most part. Besides, the thing still works. The tub hasn’t dropped a single degree, and its been patched with duct tape, the cure for all ills.

Good thing there’s duct tape!

As always these days, I burst into tears and just couldn’t contain myself. I was crying like there was no tomorrow. I couldn’t breathe I was crying so hard. J, in his ever so gentle manner, decided this would be a great time to tell me that my hormones were putting him through hell and that we wouldn’t be having any more kids because he couldn’t handle going through it again.

Ever melodramatic, I took this very seriously (and although it was said seriously, it was said in the heat of the moment and most pregnant couples have a few of these moments I have learned) and imagined my poor lone child playing alone in his room, talking to himself well past the age where that’s normal, and somehow developing a multiple personality disorder. I’m a highly sensitive person at the best of times, which I used to think made me crazy. Just imagine how being pregnant has amplified this.

In a more lucid moment I might have shouted out “AMEN”! If he thinks dealing with my hormones is hell, he has no idea how hot the fires of hell really burn. I’d love to see how he’d handle pregnancy and all it has to offer. I have to deal with those same hormones and feeling out of control a lot of the time. Add that to the slew of unmentionable physical ailments I will write about in my tell-all pregnancy book (being rejected soon at a publisher near you!), how could I not agree? Why would anyone ever want to have more than one kid? I’ll give you the answer to that one in a few weeks when I’m holding my baby boy in my arms and wondering how its possible to love anything so much.

Besides, so long as J manages to stick by me through the labour (without fainting) we’ll all be so high on oxytocin by the end of it that we’ll forget all about the pain and my looney toons moments. Ah science.

Despite all my whining, being pregnant is amazing. There’s nothing like growing a life inside of you. And sometimes you manage to make it look graceful. Sometimes. Photo credit: Cassie Gibb, 2012

→ 6 Comments

Posted in Daily Life, Pregnancy, Relationships

Tagged , , , , ,

The War of 2012

Posted on September 7, 2012 | 4 Comments

Two hundred years after the War of 1812 another equally important war was declared. The War of 2012 is a little known war that recently took place in small town sort-of-Southern-feels-like-uninhabited-wilderness-compared-to-the-great-city-of-Toronto-and-surrounding-area Ontario.

Closest neighbour

A woman and a man unwittingly conceived a giant fetus of the male variety in February. In preparation for his arrival the woman (with permission from the man, although he denies it to this day) acquired a giant puppy dog from a farm. She figured the pup would keep her company during the long days when the man was at work, and teach her to deal with all of the pleasant things that come with child-rearing, such as potty accidents, projectile vomiting, constant whining and separation anxiety.

How?… just… HOW!?

Of course, something else that happens to new parents (and all parents I’m sure) is that they develop a whole new set of child-related worries. This pair worried about very different things. She worried about things like car accidents and second and third-hand smoke. He worried that the puppy was going to eat the baby.

The woman liked it when the puppy slept at the foot of their bed. It gave her a sense of comfort. Mostly the comfort that she would not awaken to a kennel full of dog poop or vomit. Since she wasn’t sleeping much in those days, due to being mauled from the inside by the giant fetus, she could hear if the puppy was getting ill in the night and everyone knows that it’s much easier to deal with as it’s happening, not hours after the fact. The man was convinced that if the the dog were allowed to sleep in their room, she would pounce on the baby in the night and eat him.

As much as the woman liked to make fun of this, she acknowledged that it is probably better not to have the dog sleep in the same room as the baby, because even though she is more like a fluffy bunny than a mountain lion, you do never know. She wouldn’t eat the baby, but she may jump up on the bed randomly some night (although she doesn’t do this now) and accidentally maul one or all of the family members in her quest for love and nighttime cuddles.

In reality, he’s probably actually worried about the dog depositing drool in his gaping snore trap

This brings the tale to the present. The last two nights the woman has conceded (basically, she lost the war… le sigh) and allowed the man to lock the dog in her kennel for the night. The first night was uneventful, although the woman caved and let the dog out of the kennel at 4am so that she could have company in her insomniatic (<- apparently this is not a word) state. Last night she did plead with him to allow the fur monster to once more share their room, but he remained cold and unmoved. She cried, tore at her hair, tore at his hair and beat her hands relentlessly on his chest. Actually, she just tried to put on her best sad eyes and pouty lips, but it didn’t work. The man asked, “What if the giant fetus is allergic to dogs?”, and pointed out that the woman had already violated the one rule they’d made about keeping the dog out of the soon-to-be baby’s room. How the hizzle did he know that the dog had been helping her set up the crib by attempting to eat their unborn son’s first teddy bear (it bears repeating here that although the dog did grab the teddy by the face, she has never ever ever bitten a human being)?

The dog does not eat babies. She does, however, eat the man’s socks and leaves a trail of them wherever she goes.

Knowing that she could not win, the woman let the man lock the dog in her kennel again. They fell asleep entangled in a lover’s embrace. BAHAHAH. That did not happen. He fell asleep and she then pried the remote out of his hands. He rolled over and began to snore as she watched the excitement that is the Jeopardy Teen Tournament and felt proud of herself for knowing more than 75% of the answers. Next thing she knew it was 2am and the puppy was whining… at the foot of their bed. The woman felt very spooked because she had watched the man lock the kennel. Had she sleepwalked and released her? Had someone broken into the house, stole nothing and released the dog? Was there a puppy freeing ghost lurking in the shadows? Had the dog grown opposable thumbs? Or maybe opposable thumbs are just overrated and the dog is a genius…

Opposable thumbs? Hacker Dog doesn’t need opposable thumbs. Fools.

The woman blearily stumbled down the stairs, dog in tow, and locked her back in the kennel. She then returned to bed and lay awake feeling spooked for about an hour, wondering if the ghost of some crazed anti-kennel training PETA activist was plotting to attack once she’d fallen asleep once more.

The War of 2012 will go down in the history books as being won by the man. The woman will likely have this rubbed in her face from now until death parts them. The baby will likely be told the tale ad nauseam by his father. The woman, however, will always remember the night that the dog escaped her confines and will know that the real winner of this war was the dog, opposable thumbs be damned.

-FIN-

→ 4 Comments

Posted in Daily Life, Parenting, Random, Relationships

Tagged , , , , , ,

Disastertown

Posted on August 13, 2012 | 17 Comments

I now have an overwhelming urge to watch Office Space

Well, it’s Monday, and if that didn’t suck enough to begin with, my Sunday was a Sunday to rival all Mondays… and then some.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I’m a sensitive soul to begin with, and pregnancy is seriously doing a number on my brain. Saturday night began amazingly, with J coming home from work (yup, emergency job on a Saturday. Le poop.), hands full of groceries and surprising me by telling me he was making me dinner. He also brought home a bag full of peaches because I had mentioned that this was my most recent craving. He also restocked the freezer with ice cream. Basically, he was wonderful. We then cuddled up in bed and watched a very unromantic movie, which for some reason put me in the mood. Well, it had nothing to do with the movie. It was simply the fact that pregnancy has had one of two effects on me:

  1. Sex has never been a more repulsive thought. If you try to touch me, I will be forced to kill you, or at least deliver a very serious blow below the belt in order to stave off further advances. Both of those actions are frowned upon, so I suggest you just don’t try.
  2. I want it. All the time. Wherever, whenever, however. I suspect that this is a combo of the hormones (carrying a boy pumps testosterone into your body, FYI ladies) and the fact that I need validation that I am, in fact, still sexy despite the 30lb weight gain and the massive soccer ball that insists on protruding from my middle and making some types of intimacy impossible.

This was a clear case of scenario 2 being in full force. J was already half asleep and once he’s gone he’s gone. Rationally, I know this. Irrationally, I took this as a slight and fell asleep crying. I woke up a kajillion times during the night due to horrible heartburn and pain in my back and sides every time I tried to roll over in my sleep; yet somehow, when Sunday morning rolled around, I got up bright eyed and bushy tailed. I then proceeded to make a huge breakfast (bacon, pancakes, strawberries… YUM!) which I triumphantly presented to J… who triumphantly ate the meal with much gratitude, but then immediately went back to bed. Curses. Scenario 2 was still playing out full force in my brain. I got really cranky and restless and basically ended up crying, packing the dog into my car, and leaving the house.

I cried the whole way to my mother’s place, where I deposited the dog, and then met a friend for lunch. As I was describing my actions to her, I became more and more aware of how crazy I sounded (it is now very obvious to me why Jenny McCarthy wrote a chapter entitled Psycho Chick (Hormonal Rage) in her book Belly Laughs and Vicky Iovine wrote about ‘pregnancy insanity’ in The Girlfriends’ Guide to Pregnancy). It became especially apparent when I told her that he’d brought me peaches, and I suddenly burst out with, “and I just left… without even eating any of those beautiful peaches”, tears pooling in my eyes. Wow. So yeah, J got a nice big apology phone call (which he took very well), and I picked up the dog and drove home.

Poor munchkin

At this point, I had a terrible headache, but at least I was happy because I realized my insanity was just temporary. We were then invited to J’s parents’ for dinner. Normally, we bring the dog, but as you may recall, she just had surgery and can’t be around other dogs/must be kept calm for the next two weeks. The vet had told me to keep her isolated in one room (since she was acting all nuts like nothing ever happened and he was afraid she would tear her stitches and put a damper on the healing process), so we figured it was no big deal to lock her in the bathroom. After all, she is kennel trained and used to being alone for up to four hours at a time. We took her outside to do her business first of course. Failure to do so would just be negligent! So, out she went, into the bathroom she went, and off we went for a home cooked meal.

And then we returned home to Disastertown.

Despite my best efforts, and despite the fact that this has NEVER EVER happened before, I returned home to a very wiggly puppy, and:

I almost lost my shit. Okay, horrible pun, but I did almost lose my dinner. I have never ever ever seen a mess like that in my life. First thing, I threw her in the bathtub. Would have been easy to deal with if she didn’t have stitches that can’t get wet, but instead I had to spot wash her… no easy task with a wiggly puppy who is just so excited to see you and wants to be up in your face at all times (ew ew ew dog… EW!). I then threw her outside (okay, didn’t throw, but I may have envisioned punting her out the back door à la Jack Black in Anchorman) and ran back upstairs before J could discover the mess. You see, he has a horribly weak stomach and then I would have been cleaning up after him too. I then scrubbed the floor with Mr. Clean, a Swiffer Wet Jet, and Clorox. I don’t think the bathroom has ever been so clean… but just so you get the picture, I also had to throw out everything in the tub (all my shampoos and soaps, loofa etc) as well as the shower curtains.

As if this weren’t bad enough, my head was pounding even more by the time I was done and I really really really needed a shower… Well, wouldn’t you know that I can’t run a hot washing machine and take a hot shower at the same time. Dammit. I hadn’t even considered this when I threw all the dirty wash cloths and towels into the washing machine and hit the ‘hot’ button. I never wash anything on hot, but I just had to in this case! Without the sterilizing properties of hot water, I considered scrubbing my skin with Clorox, but figured I probably wouldn’t function well for the rest of my life without skin. I opted for good ol’ Old Spice instead. I needed something powerful. Something that would smell clean so that I wouldn’t think about what I’d just been forced to touch. I then got out of the shower smelling like J when he gets out of the shower, which usually  makes me weak in the knees, but guess what!? Despite my two day obsession with scenario two, that was the last thing on my mind. I crawled into bed, J wrapped his arms around me, and I fell asleep as Baby H kicked away.

So Monday, whatever you have in store, I think I can handle it. Booyahkasha!

→ 17 Comments

Posted in Parenthood, Parenting, Pregnancy, Random, Relationships

Tagged , , , , , ,

Dear J

Posted on July 22, 2012 | Leave a comment

Lately my most annoying pregnancy symptom (aside from sleepless nights and heartburn) is my overwhelming sensitivity and sentimentality, but I’m gonna go out on a limb here and put a bright side spin on it. As you will know if you read my posts ‘Relationship Misadventures‘ and ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony‘ J and I haven’t had the easiest time adjusting to the pregnancy. This pregnancy happened very early in our young relationship and while it’s been stressful, it’s also been amazing. After all, I can’t say it was an accident since our combined 36 years of education should have taught us where babies come from. Our favourite cute couple (read: vomit inducing) game to play is “No, you wanted to get pregnant.” I officially win by default when, after sharing our why you wanted to get pregnant stories, J ends his with “and I’ve told this lie so often now that I’ve started to believe it”. Way to disqualify yourself darling!

I think I got a bit off track. My purpose here was to put a bright side on my ridiculous sensitivity and sentimentality as of late. Most of the sentimentality centres around being truly madly and deeply in love with the father of my baby. If he were a more sentimental man I’d write him love letters, but since I can’t really even verbalize how I feel about him to him in person due to the fact that his reply would make me feel weird (meaning there would be a lack of reply. Not because he doesn’t love or care about me; I catch glimpses of sweetness, some of which you will read about further on. No, it’s because he’s ‘built Ford tough’ dontcha know and tough guys don’t spew sonnets). Anyways, it’s been building up in my chest this week and I’ve just got to get it out, so now you all can read about it instead. He’ll probably read this eventually too (I know he spies on my blog from time to time) and that’s okay. He doesn’t have to tell me!

Without further adieu, here are 10 things that might appear in a love letter to J, should I ever write one:

1.

2. This city girl secretly loves that you’re a country boy (even though she won’t admit it half the time).

3. The phrase “I love you” gets thrown around a bit too easily in relationships, but you took your time, and I like that. When you first told me you might be falling in love with me it freaked me out. I don’t know why, I think I just didn’t expect it (I was also being a horrible hypocrite and read the text while driving… going into shock and commanding a moving machine do not mix, FYI). Then you kind of got all weird and disappeared for a bit, which scared me even more, because when I really thought about it I was happy you were falling in love with me. Thankfully when you came back it was with full force and that first “I love you”, even though it was a text made out of weird symbols and you were mad at yourself for saying it via text, just swept me off my feet. Seriously. I think the fact that it was a text helped in that department as well. You might be a tough guy, but you’re kind of shy and it’s totally endearing.


4. I actually cried last week when I sent you the pic I drew for baby H’s nursery and you told me the next day that you’d been looking at it on and off to keep you smiling.

5. Sometimes when I indulge in the darker places of my brain that I’d prefer to forget exist, I get super sad that you’re a smoker. I always told myself never to fall in love with a smoker because I knew I’d struggle with it. And it’s not because I think it’s gross, or that I’m frustrated that you said you’d quit and haven’t. It’s not for those reasons. It’s because I love you to pieces and can’t handle the thought of losing out on precious moments with you. I know we could all die tomorrow, but the fact that you’re hurting yourself (someone I love so much) willingly and knowingly breaks my heart. I want to take care of you and I wish you’d do the same (take better care of you!). Sometimes I even feel relieved when you sleep in the middle of the day (even though I get bored and wish you’d wake up!) because I know at least it’s 1 (or 10) less cigarette(s). Crazy thought process, I know, but that’s what love does to you. It makes you crazy one way or the other.

And what if you defy the odds but end up looking like this guy? Hmmm…

6. Thank you for telling and showing me (Note to my readers: that’s right. I went there. We’re having a baby so you shouldn’t be surprised), especially when I’m feeling like such a whale, that you find me sexier now than ever. I admit, I feel the same way about you.

7. My heart still jumps every time your name lights up my phone.

8. I just about died of happiness last night when you were talking to baby H and he was wiggling all around at the sound of your voice (oh dammit. I just teared up again). So many women complain that their partners don’t take any interest in the pregnancy part of the having a baby thing. I think it’s so beautiful that you talk to your son and clearly think about what our lives will be like with him in the world. I know it won’t be easy at times, but I can’t wait.

9. I think it’s obvious. I love your guts. And it doesn’t hurt that the encasement of those guts is mighty fine. You’re sexy and you know it!

10. Even though you might be mad that I gave the Internet a glimpse beneath your tough guy exterior, I know you’ll forgive me. Why? You totally love me too. Yup.

Ok, so this post totally isn’t in keeping with the tone of my blog, but I don’t care. I can’t just write about the things that annoy me, although it’s super fun because it’s just so easy to make them funny. Sometimes a little sentimentality is good for the soul.

Happy Monday friends! (And who ever says that about Mondays!?)

→ Leave a comment

Posted in Pregnancy, Relationships

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

Mama’s Baby… Daddy’s, Maybe: The science behind pregnancy (and other ramblings)

Posted on July 7, 2012 | 2 Comments

After the day I had yesterday I was practically dying for my yoga class this morning (there is something incredibly comical about 10-15 pregnant woman doing yoga, by the way. From the back of the room you can’t tell the difference, but look in the mirror and you’ll notice how modified the poses are to accommodate those big low hanging baby bellies! Everything has to be done with a very wide-legged stance). Yoga is a life saver! On Wednesday I had pain so bad in my left side that reaching out to close the car door brought tears to my eyes. After stretching it out in yoga and getting a nice massage with cooling gel afterwards, no more pain (for now)!

So why did I need yoga so bad this morning? Yesterday started off with me fleeing the apartment. 43 degrees celsius with the humidity and no air-conditioning? Yeah, I wasn’t about to stick around to see how that turned out, so I packed the doggie into the car and off we went in search of relief (it was 8am and already nearly 30 degrees). The dog’s name may be Punky Brewster, but we call her Pukey Poopster for a reason. Her first name was in full effect on that car ride and by the time I arrived at my destination I was already completely strung out and covered in guck. Prep for baby indeed… This set the tone for my day and I couldn’t wait for serenity.

Yoga is my serenity. It’s the one place where everything else just shuts off and I can close my eyes and just focus on me and the baby. No stress, no distractions. Just us. Even the thunder couldn’t break the peace this morning! It was actually kind of cool to be moving through the poses with the sky threatening to crash down outside. Even during savasana, the final relaxation pose, the thunder just made it all the more special. Our regular instructor plays  the Dixie Chicks’ ‘Lullaby’ during this quiet time. The first time she did it I got so overwhelmed with love for the bébé that I teared up and then stupidly got in my car to drive home and almost got into a horrendous accident because my brain had turned to mush and I forgot how to drive. The song still makes me bawl (oh hormones -I’d probably cry if I put my shoes on the wrong feet), but now I know to take my time before leaving.

Anyways… I’m rambling. What I really wanted to write about today is the wicked book I’ve been reading by Jenna Pincott called ‘Do Chocolate Lovers Have Sweeter Babies’. A lot of the information is similar to what I read in Moalem’s ‘How Sex Works’ a few years ago. Both are great books that I’d highly recommend to anyone that is interested in the science behind sex and/or pregnancy, but I have to say, being pregnant and reading Pincott’s book is pretty fun, so if you’re preggers or planning on getting preggers go for that one. I haven’t finished yet because let’s face it, during the day I have to read much duller more academic things, but this book is in my hands every night before bed. So far I have learned some interesting and scary things. Here are my favourites:

1. J’s DNA is controlling how much I eat! How friggen weird is that!? Because the placenta is what regulates the nutrients that baby needs, and because that part of the placenta is ruled by daddy’s DNA, it’s daddy’s DNA that is making me stuff my face with Haagen-Dazs’ Cookie Dough Dynamo. And should I be surprised? Mister can down two pints a sitting if he wants!

2. Moderate exercise, such as my twice a week yoga practice, or the walks I take with Pukey (uh… I mean Punky), is good for my baby’s brain! Excessive exercise can cause more harm than good because it eats away at fat stores that the baby needs for brain development. Not only are babies born to moms who exercised too much often born underdeveloped and underweight, their children are also more likely to have developmental issues. So, your actions can influence your future grandchildren’s development. Crazy, non? (NOTE: ‘too much’ is defined by what your body was used to pre-pregnancy, not any one particular level of exercise. So, if you were a long distance runner before getting knocked up, carry on! It’s just us couch potatoes that shouldn’t start training for marathons during pregnancy).

3. Men who smoke heavily are more likely to have daughters. Why? The ladies will like this one. It’s because those Y chromosomes are smaller, less complex, and weaker than the X chromosomes. So, when toxins from those nasty smokes damage a man’s semen, it’s those XY bearing, male determining, spermies that are hard hit and the heavier more resilient XX female sperm win the race. The weaker sex indeed! Pffffft. (By the way, J is a smoker, so these are not hard and fast rules! Just patterns proven through scientific studies).

4. Being on the pill affects who a woman chooses as a partner. This is because the pill makes the female body mimic pregnancy and men smell differently to women when on the pill (not that they smell smell, it’s just that women are attracted to different pheromones when pregnant). Some women lose interest in their partner when coming off the pill because he is simply not someone whose pheromones would have drawn her in under different circumstances. Women are more likely to be attracted to men with a different smell from her own when not pregnant and not on the pill. Why? Because that difference in smell also means that we are genetically more dissimilar making the chance of birth defects in our offspring go down. Super cool.

5. TMI WARNING! (Don’t say I didn’t warn you): There is an actual genetic/evolutionary reason behind oral sex. Yes ladies, it’s true. When I first read that in How Sex Works I thought it was interesting, but I also knew that book was written by a man and suspected it might be a ploy to get us ladies downstairs more often (okay, not really, but it just got to me that it was written by a man). Reading it once more in Pincott’s words was a little easier to take! Basically, the proteins from daddy’s DNA in the placenta can be read as foreign objects to be attacked by the female body should it not have been regularly exposed to daddy’s proteins pre pregnancy. Huh… Women who have not been with their partners long (according to Pincott, less than 4 months) and women who always use condoms and never or rarely engage in oral sex are at higher risk for miscarriage or preeclampsia because their bodies are more likely to attack the foreign proteins in that ever so important placenta that’s in there taking care of baby. WHO KNEW!? Also fascinating is that if a woman conceives by a man who is not her regular partner, someone whose proteins her body is not familiar with, she is also at higher risk of these things even if she’s regularly exposed to her own partner’s proteins. This is considered evolution’s way of protecting men from raising another man’s child. Because really, mama’s baby… daddy’s, maybe (another gem from the book). Of course, please don’t think that all cases of miscarriage or preeclampsia are caused by infidelity or an unwillingness to preform oral sex! That would be ridiculous…

Anyways, I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date! So off I go! Happy reading friends. Hope you all enjoy(ed) your Saturday :)

*DISCLAIMER: Don’t take my comments for fact please. I’m not a medical expert, this is just based on my understanding of what I read. Ask your midwife or OB if you have questions… I know you know that, but just in case! Got to protect my fat-storing, baby brain developing fat butt!

→ 2 Comments

Posted in Pregnancy, Relationships, Science

Tagged , , , ,

Wonderful Weekend

Posted on July 1, 2012 | 2 Comments

For most Canadians, this wonderful weekend has yet to end. It’s Canada’s 145th birthday and tomorrow is a holiday Monday. I, however, need to keep working! Wednesday is a big deadline. My first complete draft needs to be submitted to my advisor, and while I’m close, it’s not something that can be finished in just one more day. That’s okay though.

J and I haven’t been spending much time together as of late. Times are busy and stressful, but this weekend was a special one and so I had to stop working just for a day or two. Yesterday was J’s birthday and I must say, I love celebrating a loved one’s birthday much more than I ever enjoy my own! Also, birthdays mean cake, so you can’t really go wrong.

Birthdays on a budget are hard though, especially when the birthday boy got you a rather thoughtful and expensive gift back when it was your birthday. Well, I couldn’t do much by way of expensive, but I do love the thoughtful part. There’s so much fun to be had in personalizing a gift. Here’s my list of gifts in order of their nearness and dearness to my heart (from awesome-even more awesome):

1. J asked for cologne. While I really loved Dolce & Gabbana’s ‘The One’ (so much so that I was smelling my wrist for hours afterwards), I ended up going with Gucci’s ‘Guilty’. I couldn’t help it. I found it too funny since J is a huge trouble maker. If ever you think he did it, he’s probably guilty.

2. Half a dozen Cinnamon Crunch bagels from Panera, his favourite.

3. A little onesie for the baby. It’s navy with red crabs embroidered on it, because let’s face it, J is a bit of a crab! He’ll be the first to tell you. He’s also a Cancer, and has a crab tattoo. It’s just too perfect.

4. A picture book on how to be a daddy! Seriously, this book is brills.  J will not read the pregnancy book I got him, but the snazzy comic style pics in this gem seem to have done some sort of trick (if not THE trick). He actually brought the book to bed last night and *gasp* read it! There are some words, but its really the pictures that give the instructions. I’ve heard from other woman that this book has captivated their men as well, so I guess it can be highly recommended.

5. Lastly, and my absolute favouritest gift in the history of all my gift giving, was a photo album I put together of our few, but significant, moments together thus far. Pictures from my birthday, from our trip to Aruba, the baby’s ultrasounds, some lovely maternity photos my friend took (visit her photo blog HERE), and a cute picture my mom took of us together last week. What made this so special to me was the reaction it received. I hope we will fill the rest of its 200 or so slots with many memories to come.

Another weekend highlight was J feeling the baby kick again. He responds to J’s voice now, and its the cutest thing for this mama to see. He wriggles and kicks his way towards the sound of it.

We also went to a big family picnic for the Italian side of J’s family. Of course, a lovely day in the park could not prevent this crowd from watching the big game (2012 Euro Cup Final)! No no. A computer and a projector were high on the list of things to bring! Too bad Italy lost 4-0 to Spain, and thank goodness I left before the end of the game! Italians love their soccer and I’d have hated to see that disappointment (/rage).

So that’s what I’ve been up to. I’m feeling all good and in love and stuff and generally not in the mood to make fun of my life (oh self-loathing nature/source of dark comedy, where have you gone?), but hey, a mushy gushy post is okay every once in awhile! Right?

What can I say? I love my baby daddy.

→ 2 Comments

Posted in Relationships, Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Bitter Sweet Symphony

Posted on June 11, 2012 | 1 Comment

In case you all were wondering, my baby is the size of a bell pepper this week. Babycenter.com sent me an e-mail to tell me about it… so thanks Babycenter. No bell peppers in my dinner tonight!

What a weird weekend. I don’t have anything particularly funny or wisdomous to say today. I just wanted to share the bell pepper photo. Oh, and also to tell you of an important pregnancy milestone. J felt the baby kick last night! It would have made me really happy if we hadn’t just had the most epic meltdown fight ever. Instead it felt kind of bitter sweet. I wanted to be happy, but my brain had just exploded and I was trying to clean up the mess. It’s hard to feel happy when your brains are spattered all over the room.

Still, it was really special to me. After I had made my point and dissolved into a puddle of tears in the middle of the floor, J was consoling me. My belly was pressed up against him and suddenly it happened -the first really big KICK kick. Like, ninja baby kick… hopefully the memory of that moment will help to keep things in perspective and prevent me from turning into some awesome prehistoric beast that could rip J in half with its teeth, like so: 

Thank goodness I’m a mere mortal with no shape-shifting abilities.

→ 1 Comment

Posted in Pregnancy, Relationships

Tagged , , ,

Relationship misadventures

Posted on June 8, 2012 | 1 Comment

Something J and I came to realize since babes has come into the picture is that there is no shame in getting a little help. With a relationship that’s barely left the start-gate you go from the ‘my lover can do no wrong phase’ to the ‘FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHEN YOU GO NUMBER ONE PUT THE TOILET SEAT UP’ phase. For the life of me, I cannot figure out how someone who deposits so much urine on the toilet seat (the one in the bathroom I now refuse to enter at all costs) could complain that bleach smells like pee. Sure it does. But whether I bleach the toilet bowl in that bathroom or not, it’s going to smell like pee, so suck it up.

I got a bit off track there. Basically what I am trying to say is that getting thrown from the honeymoon phase straight into the living together/in your face all the time phase doesn’t come without its challenges. We are majorly different people. For one, I don’t pee standing up. What’s that? That one doesn’t count? Okay fine. If I did pee standing up, I’d lift the seat. More importantly, there seems to be a fundamental disconnect when it comes to the way we work. J works in construction. Well, at the moment so do I. I’m constructing another human being. That takes some serious physical effort. Just because I’m not running around lifting stuff doesn’t mean my body isn’t constantly under stress. Apart from that, I work my brain. I work it all day from dawn to dusk. I’m constructing a thesis. I’m a grad student, it’s what I do. And at the end of the day, I’m going to be judged. If those judges don’t like what they see then that’s it. Two and a half years of my life (not to mention a whole whack load of money) go straight down the drain. It’s no small wonder then that I am not Suzy Homemaker. Believe me, I’d love to be, and if there ever comes a day when I don’t work I will keep an orderly home (I make no promises for when the babe comes out though… I can’t possibly say what I’ll be capable of at that point, but I hear it’s not a lot).

Right now our differences in upbringing and values are causing some tension. I was brought up valuing education and J was not. His family is uneducated in the traditional sense, but they are very successful in their line of work. This success, as wonderful as it is, does not help with his attitude towards my schooling. In his mind what I do isn’t work and my goodness there’s nothing I’ve personally been able to do to convince him otherwise. Fortunately, we’ve stumbled across a wonderful couple’s counsellor. Our first appointment was amazing! Finally we were talking! Finally we were understanding one another! And then five days later we were having the same arguments we’d resolved sitting across from this wisdomous (that’s right. I made up a word. Deal with it) woman, the saviour of our happiness. So, back we go. Of course, therapy is an ongoing thing and problems are never fixed over night. However, I suspect that therapy is beginning to create some new problems. J will no longer address problems outside of therapy, which can lead to a whole lot of stewing on my part, and having my points re-enforced by a professional is turning me into a self-righteous B-word (that’s right. All my points ARE re-enforced. I’m never wrong. I’m so much win).

How do we get through this? I’m currently not too sure, but so long as I’m still getting those little “I love you” texts during the day, I think there’s hope. To use that good old cliché sung so loverly by the Beatles, love is all you need. Actually, that really isn’t true. But we’ve got the love. The rest will come… should we continue to work at it.

→ 1 Comment

Posted in Relationships

Tagged , , , , , ,

Differences of Opinion

Posted on March 15, 2012 | 1 Comment

It is often said that a mother is made the moment she learns she is pregnant, but a father doesn’t become a father until he first lays eyes on his child after birth. Not that fathers love any less, but that the moment of connection with the child is different. This is understandable. For the woman everything changes with this realization. Lifestyle changes commence immediately. Physical responses to the pregnancy come fast and early. The child’s presence is felt within the woman right from the get go.

Although a woman can go for weeks without knowing she is pregnant, some women just have that “feeling” of pregnancy days before her period is even missed. My experience was the latter. During the last week of February J and I were relaxing in bed on vacation. I was relishing the closeness, because J isn’t much of a cuddler. He’d much rather wrestle and put ice down my shirt than express any kind of mushy gushy affection. While I was nestled into his side, this thought entered my mind: “This is so nice and peaceful. Just the three of us.” WHOA. Three of us? I corrected myself to “two of us” right away, but from that moment on I knew I’d be taking that pregnancy test when I got home. I’m a bit of a hippie. Maybe this was my child making itself known to me (“Hey, I know you’re on an all-inclusive vacation, but maybe lay off the Piña Coladas, Mama!”). Maybe not. Regardless, from the moment I saw those two pink lines on the pregnancy test, I became a mother and since then it’s all about keeping the little one safe.

In terms of lifestyle changes, I have already made many. From the beginning of our relationship J and I have discussed changes that would need to happen should we ever have children together. I think the fact that this has happened so soon has been difficult for J. I’m not going to air our dirty laundry on the internet (to be honest, there really isn’t much to air), but I’ve just been really fascinated by our different reactions to lifestyle changes. For me, it hasn’t even been a question. Changes have to happen, and they have to happen now, whereas for J, in his mind he has until November to make the necessary changes. Since I’ve met him, J has said that fatherhood will definitely change certain lifestyle choices he has made to date. Now, in my mind, fatherhood begins now. This little embryo needs an environment that will allow it to flourish as it works very hard to transform from embryo to fetus to baby. This has been a source of tension and I’m not too sure what to do about it. I can’t make him feel like a father today or tomorrow. All I can do is stress that I’m already a mother and that I will do what I need to do in order to protect my child.

Now, please don’t think that J is a terrible person or horribly insensitive at the very least. It’s not that. He’s been so wonderful, expressing concern for me when I’m having a hard day, and pure excitement at the prospect of fatherhood. He’s going to be a great dad. I’ve just been really interested in our different reactions to the pregnancy and different views on parenthood and when it begins. And although I haven’t quite worked out any answers and things are still a bit messy, I’m going to aim to keep the laundry clean.

→ 1 Comment

Posted in Parenthood

Tagged , , , , , ,