The Name Game

Well, here we go. According to my lilypie ticker, I have about 77 days before our next bundle of poop spitup joy arrives. This we know. We also know that our bundle is a girl. And the other thing we know is that we’re going to have to call her something besides, ‘Here, take the baby.’


Giving a person a name is serious business. Most of you have done it, so you know what I mean. And maybe for you, it was easy. Maybe you have a family tradition that you knew you were going to carry on, and that’s just awesome for your little Johnston Clayton Eugene The Fifth. Maybe you have had your children’s names picked out since before you first ovulated, and you have a very malleable husband who let you live the dream. But if I were to do that, this child would either be named Paulette Jenny, after my Cabbage Patch Kid, or Zeppelin, after grabbing my big sister’s pant leg and not letting go until she dragged me into my first foray of ‘cool.’

We won’t be doing that to little Soon-to-Bee.

You’d think this time it would be easier, as we know we’re having another girl and we should just be able to pick one of the loads of girls’ names we had originally come up with for Bee.

Well, not so much. Partly because we didn't come up with loads of names – we came up with one. Ok, ok, let me clarify – I came up with lots of great names, and Chris came up with lots of ridiculous names (please help me explain to my husband that with a Jewish mother and a whitey-white father, it’s just not fair to name a child after a Japanese Anime character.) and in the end, we agreed on one.

And we loved it. And we decided that it would be her name. And then Bee was born, and I took one look at the sweetest face that ever existed, and knew that the name we had picked was definitely not who this baby was. But then it came to me – a name that we had tossed around months earlier, both liked but hadn’t felt was THE name. But it was. It was her name. And I said, ‘I think that’s who she is,’ and my husband knew better than to argue with the woman that had just endured a drug-free labour and was going to have to pee standing up for a while.

So that’s who she was. That’s who she IS.

This time, we’re back to where we were with Bee before she was born. We have a name. One name. And we’re figuring it will be hers, but if it’s not, I’m not sure which one will suddenly fly out of the archives and present itself as THE ONE. (Don’t worry, it won’t be Neo.)

And, I’m sorry, internets, but I probably won’t be telling you guys what it is, either. For some reason, I feel like if I keep my child(ren)’s name private, than we remain private and somewhat anonymous. I know that’s not exactly the case, but that’s a whole other post. My kids won’t even have the same last name as me. Nevertheless, that’s my paranoia decision, but in light of it, after she is born and named, I will let you know some of the names we had bounced around and dismissed – who knows? One of them might just bounce back in about 77 days.


On a completely different note, because I must share, I had my first pregnancy sex dream last night! And starring in it? My husband. Awwww.

And my husband looked exactly like Adam Brody.



Of Wedges - The Emotional, The Marital and The Palliative

Well, the emotions have calmed down, the spouses have, ahem, made up, and I have gotten some much-needed sleep.

We can now resume our version of a normal life, with normal pregnant-woman insanity and toddler shenanigans. Of course, Chris will keep in mind that pregnant wife meltdowns may be as prevalent as toddler meltdowns, and he will take it in stride, even if they are not nearly as cute.

And I will try not to hit him over the head with any more pillows. Apparently he does not like getting the beatdown, even if it’s just with a pillow. When I explained to my sister’s girlfriend that it was one of those wedges, a pregnancy pillow, she said that that just made it sound even more abusive.

And thank you as well, for not only putting up with me, but for helping pull me out of a grief-induced, sleep-deprived fog. I felt the hugs, and though I may have been sitting by myself, I no longer felt alone.



I’m home from Florida, and I’m tired. It’s not just from lack of sleep.

My head hurts, my heart hurts, and less than 24 hours after returning, my husband is sleeping in the basement because I took it out on him, and I’m too tired to work it out .

The rest of my family thought that coming over for dinner was a better idea than going to a restaurant for my sister’s birthday, so that we could all have a visit. I barely cracked a smile and let everybody else do all the work.

I’m seven months pregnant and my dad is dying. He just turned 65 and he weighs 122 pounds. Ten pounds less than I do.

I’ve unpacked my bags, but the ones under my eyes will be harder to get rid of.

If it weren’t for the daugher I have and the daughter I will have, I’d feel very alone.




guest blog by chris the husband.

Bee and I woke up especially early this morning to drop Kgirl and soon to bee off at the airport to florida, the act of which kicked off another KGIRL FAMILY ABANDONMENT WEEK here at the kids are alright.
Oh, yes, Kgirl has left us before, and yet we lived.
Day 1 went smooth and easy, as I used a killer combo of instant pizza, the park and a double shot of Dora before putting and exhausted Bee to sleep. So instead, I’ll recap a weekend event.

Bee woke up from her nap on the weekend to find her mom and I playing a snowboarding video game called SSX. It’s actually one of the rare video games Kgirl will play with me, mostly because for every win, you get to shop for outfits to dress up your snowboarder in, like this hot pink halter top I’ve been working toward, which would just go so well with the pom pom tuke, and, you know, um, not gay.

It’s great spending time with Kgirl in this way, (cause I can’t take another episode of OC) except during the game she puts a lot of pressure on me to perform, because if I don’t win that race, Kgirl can’t unlock the skinny pants. And being 7 months pregnant, she desperately wants to put on skinny pants, even if it is by proxy, so I've got to take charge and be the man and bring home the pants. For my wife to wear.

Bee saves my already shaky masculintiy by saying in her too cute “asking” voice “I try?” Sure, love.
She has played the vids before, with mixed results. I started Bee early around 2 months or so, playing Tekken, the greatest kung fu game ever made by the good people at Namco. As this was her first game, I picked the Giant Panda for her, figuring the panda’s large size and crushing grip would make up for her inexperience. However, her poor basic motor skills and tendency to suck on the controller at critical moments proved her undoing, resulting in a staggering 5-0 victory for me. Sure, some may claim that a victory over an endangered species controlled by an inattentive 2 month old is not something to be proud of, but they would be woefully misinformed. It’s really just continuing a strong family tradition where as a young lad my dad laid the smack down on me with a game of Pong.

Once the tears dried and the green tinged nightmares subsided, I was all the better for it.

Bee is also doing much better with our snowboarding game, her fine motor skills have come in to the fore, she is holding rather than drooling the controller, discovering the core fundamentals, methodically practising her left turn, just grabbing the game by the horns and aggressively turning left, really nailing that left turn, just really working some future NASCAR basics. Our snowboarder character over the next 5 mins OWNS the counterclockwise turn. None can touch her.

Like any proud father, my hope is to one day provide my children with the abilities to master the combos I never could, and to let them know that if they put their minds to it, they too can reach for the stars, and fight the aliens therein. And maybe just one day, save the world. Save. The. World.

Tomorrow...a day at the farm! will roosters traumitize Bee again? we'll find out!


It's In the Bag

I don't really carry a purse. I have a pretty cool diaper bag, and I have a huge hippie sack, and lots of little purses for special occasions that rarely see the light of day.

But MotherBumper and Bad have showed me theirs, so I feel it's only fair to show them mine. You can be voyeurs, or hey! Join in the fun! HBM will link to you and we can all see how long it's been since you've cleaned out your damn purse.

Here's what's in mine:

Ok, not the cat, but she just can't stay away from my shit, so she's in the picutre. Her name's Miko.

Top Row:
Swag bag from baby shower I recently attended, 2 kleenexes (unused - miraculous), sample sunscreen wipe, empty pill bottle (once housed a few tums), 3-pack of emery boards with only 2 left, a tum, a bottle of tums because that stupid little pill bottle I was trying to reuse wouldn't even get me through 9 am, dental floss, sunglasses, random receipt, dirty tupperware (held my homemade oatmeal/blueberry/raspberry muffin).

Middle(ish) Row:
Puffer, two burt's bees lip glosses, one fatty lips lip balm, 6 cents, three pens (no notebook), keys, 20% off Children's Place coupon. (ripped out of Chatelain magazine that I would never buy, at mother's request.)

Bottom(ish) Row:
Old Navy maternity cardigan, wallet, juice box, granola bar, 2 ancient pay stubs, 3 hair clips + 1 hair elastic, broken necklace.

Not too too bad, mainly because most of my crap is floating around in the diaper bag. But still, thought it might net my lost sunglasses, notebook, maybe a bit more cash and/or a good magazine.



I Like Me!

Sage has tagged me for the Stuart Smiley meme, and I always do what hot, smart women tell me to.

10 Things I Like About Me:

1. I am quick to smile. And my mouth is large and so are my teeth, so when I smile, you know it.

2. I can make Chris and Bee laugh, and Chris and Bee like my laugh, and I like laughing.

3. I think I have a good instinct and attitude for parenting. Really, I do. I like the way I parent almost all of the time (a little bit of pregnancy impatience notwithstanding). And I think Bee is a really good reflection of my really good parenting.

4. I add sound effects to all of my gaffes. If I trip, drop something, remember something I was supposed to do yesterday or bump into the wall, you will know it. And it won’t just be a delicate ‘oopsie!’ – it will be a warbled, jumbled ‘woooahahhhrl!’ It’s very difficult to take yourself too seriously when you make sounds like that.

5. I chalk up my environmentalist/earth mama tendencies to an early pioneer fetish.

6. I like the tone of my writing. Even if I’m not the wittiest or most prolific author out there, I dig what I do.

7. When somebody tells me that my behaviour or something I’ve done upsets or hurts them, I really work at trying to change. Unfortunately, this is new for me. But I’m working on it.

8. I may have to turn away when Bee is playing at the park with Chris (yes, I’m a helicopter), and I have some personal safety issues, but none of those tendencies have stopped me from having lots of amazing experiences: I went on Dead tour at 16; I’ve lived in a warzone while doing international volunteer work; I’ve had one-night stands; I’ve gone white-water rafting; I’ve read poetry onstage in NYC and I’ve shaved my head. I like living.

9. I rarely engage in pity parties for myself, and I’m not a hypochondriac. I hate drama.

10. I am accepting of my physical being. I have a big nose, I’m short and really, I’m kind of funny looking. But that somehow has translated to ‘cute,’ and I can dig it. For the sake of my daughter(s), I will love my physical self.

What hidden talents and happy thoughts do you possess? Let the world know!

Edited to add:
I had a non-alcoholic bevvie for you last night, Jerry. May the four winds blow you safely home.




President's Choice Customer Relations

August 2, 2007

To Whom It May Concern:

While snacking on a President’s Choice Blue Menu Crunchy Oat biscuit today, I was left with a bit of a surprise – a sliver of plastic or wood in my mouth.

Now, I like surprises as much as the next person, but not in my Crunchy Oat biscuits.

As a label-reader, I certainly would not have picked up a package of biscuits that listed ‘wood or plastic slivers’ as an ingredient.

As a 6-month pregnant woman, I don’t want to be unknowingly ingesting foreign objects that could cause any sort of issue to the health of my unborn baby or myself.

As the mother of a two-year old who regularly snacks on these biscuits as well, I am simply disgusted and appalled. I shudder to think what may have happened if the foreign object I found in my biscuit had been in a biscuit I had given to her. I shudder to think that for all I know, this may have been the case already.

As a consumer, I will be staying far away from this product in the future. In fact, my faith in President’s Choice products, which until now had been strong and loyal, has waned a great deal.

I’ve attached the surprise I found in my snack today and the upc from the package it came in so that you may draw your own conclusions as to it’s source. I really don’t care if you tell me that it’s a husk of wheat or made of cornstarch – it’s hard, it’s sharp, and it should not have been in the product I spent my money on.

(You can't see it, but this is where I attached the sliver that had previously been in my biscuit and my mouth, by a piece of scotch-tape. Doing so felt very forensic.)

I eagerly look forward to your explanation.