So Scary Grandpa

     My dad loves babies. Like, more than any other man I've ever met. 
He often recounts tales to me of random babies from his church that "have such tiny feet" and "are walking around holding onto only his fingers!!" Okay, Dad, I don't know these people or their kids, so I'm not sure why I should be excited this, but that's great, I guess. Good for them.... (?)
     
     He even loves babies so much that he said he wanted to sit in the waiting room the entire time I would be in labour, just so he wouldn't miss the first possible moment he would be able to meet his granddaughter. (That didn't end up happening, by the way, because I had to have a scheduled C-section due to Laura being breech. He still came and patiently sat there the whole time I was in surgery, though.)


     And now I feel the need to explain my daughter's personality. She is not shy. She is not timid. I know this because we have recently started going to some play groups and, seemingly, she couldn't care less if I was even there. She is adventurous and independent. Afraid of no one or no thing. Except Grandpa. 

(Not the greatest photo, but you get the idea)

     
     For whatever reason, and for as long as she has been able to grasp the concept of being terrified by something, Laura has been quite distressed by this man. I don't know if it's his 
over-zealous approach, his highly animated face and voice, or what, but something about him just doesn't sit right with her. 
     If he sits quietly and unobtrusively in the room for a good half hour, she will eventually warm up to him enough for someone she trusts to hold her near him. If he tries to touch her, she gets a 
panic-stricken look on her face and buries her head into the holder's neck/ chest. 
It's actually really ridiculous.


     
     This past weekend I was at my mom's using her sewing machine while she was watching Laura upstairs. My dad came over for a visit, and as soon as he came into the room, Laura burst into tears and ran to my mom to be picked up and clung to her like her life was in danger. I'm sure it must break his heart a little to cause such a reaction. :( 
So he decided to visit with me downstairs instead. We went upstairs together a little while later and the situation played out again much the same. When she thought he was a safe distance, she crossed the room to me and I picked her up. Then we went and sat beside Grandpa on the couch. He said hi, and played some games with her, and taught her where his nose was, but even after all that, she wouldn't leave my lap. It's so strange. She is not like this with anyone else (with the exception of my dad's mother, but eventually Laura even warmed up to her.) *shrugs* I don't get it. Poor Grandpa.

Mompetition

 N.B.: I started this post awhile ago, but wasn't exactly sure what to write. However, a few articles some of my friends have posted recently inspired me to dig it up again and finish it. I wanted to acknowledge mompetition and convey that I understand why it exists, but also that we need to get past this [seemingly innate behaviour] and stop bringing down our fellow mommies. 


mompetition: [mom-pi-tish-uhn] ~ noun

• sometimes-not-so-unspoken competition between moms involving children's development and achievements as well as parenting styles & choices

     I think it is inherent for parents to be competitive of one another when it comes to child-rearing; it is part of our biological make-up. In theory, biology drives us to strive for our offspring to be the best and most likely to succeed in order to attract a worthy mate with whom to procreate and further the species with our obviously superior genes. 
I suppose humans aren't so purely animalistic, but I still believe our instinctively competitive antics are biologically rooted. Having said all that, mompetition can be really exasperating. For the first six months or so of Laura's life I was, well, opinionated, and at times outspokenly so. Then I saw this (and realized how irritating I was probably being):

      I am definitely still opinionated (and actually side with the blonde mom on many of her parenting choices), but this made me realize that I needed to harness my superfluous outbursts if I wanted any mommy friends. ;)

     Having unknowingly succumb to my instinctual, mompetitive ways, I can justly say that I completely understand why mompetition exists. I have spent countless hours researching which parenting styles we would put into practice in our home. I can't help but take offense when someone disagrees with me, because I have spent so much time searching out the consensual best methods. I willingly accept new (credible) information, and I thrive on Been There Done That moms' advice. I also willingly give advice as I see fit (probably some of it still unwanted, though I have been making an effort to do so more tactfully). And I know, I know what you're going to say: "what works for some people doesn't work for everyone". While I agree that in many cases this is true, sometimes I feel like people can use this as an excuse for lazy parenting. 

     As far as development and achievements go, I stated before, I understand the innate compulsion to compare and want your kid to be the best. But, as an advanced species, I feel we as adult humans should be able to can harness and control these id-ridden impulses. Everyone is different. Every child is different. We all grow and develop at different rates and different times. Why can't people just accept that without the need to constantly measure their child against everyone else's? 

     If you're friends with me on Facebook, you'll know it's no secret that I am a lactavist and a cloth diaper advocate, among many of my other 'crunchy' parenting choices. And I'll be honest, I still struggle with my 'Judgy von HolierThanThou' attitude towards other moms. But, I really believe that fostering positive relations and generally having good karma is more important than those things. Above all else, we need to encourage one another to help raise our children in loving and nurturing environments. That is all.

Our Little Fish

A Short History of Laura's Water-Going Career:

BIRTH: screamed her lungs out during baths for the first two weeks until we realized the water needed to be warmer.

2 MONTHS: started to really enjoy baths, especially 
the kind in the big tub with Mom where she could easily splash around and eat bubbles.

4 MONTHS: Laura has her first dip in the lake. 
She is overwhelmingly indifferent. 
"Yeah, it's water. So what?"







                                 7 MONTHS: Laura is enrolled in her first set of swimming lessons, and Josh concludes the first lesson with, "Well, she isn't going to get much out of this!" (She was one of the youngest and least skilled in the class.) To which I reply, "Isn't the point of the lessons for her to have fun and get comfortable with being in the water? 
I think we'll accomplish that."



So we continued with the lessons, and by the end of the first set, we had a regular little fish on our hands! (Well, as much as a 9-month-old can be, anyway.) In fact, she ended up having so much fun that we felt obligated to enroll her in the second set.

She now enjoys playing in the fountains, kicking on her front and back, hot-tubbing afterwards to warm up, and her very most favourite part of all is jumping in off the side. Although she is less of a fan of practicing her "underwater skills", I think we might even get some bubbles from this little fish by the end of the season!

11 MONTHS: Swimming lessons, take two!

♥♥♥

Play Silks!

       I generally consider myself a reasonably creative person. I am good at imagining up my own variations on an idea, but sometimes I need an 'idea seed' to work with. My idea seed for this project came from here. I spent this afternoon making play silks for Laura (and me) :). They took quite a long time, but it was worth it as they turned out really well.


     A week or two ago I ordered twelve 8" x 54" silk scarves from here (you could obviously choose whatever sizes you want). I also bought about 40 packages of powdered Kool-Aid, and loosely followed the dyeing directions from this blog. 

While I removed the tags from the scarves, Laura helped by throwing them on the floor...

... and then chewing on them.

To prep the scarves, I placed the raw silk in a pot of boiling water with some white vinegar.

While the silks were prepping, I got out the rest of the materials:
microwavable bowls, cling wrap, oodles of Kool-Aid, tongs, and more vinegar.

The first scarf: two cups of water, half a cup of vinegar, two packages of red
Kool-Aid and one orange. I tried sprinkling the orange powder directly onto the
silk that was sticking out of the water rather than just mixing it in, which worked
reasonably well in providing regions more orange than red.

I covered the bowl with cling wrap and microwaved for 3 minutes.

Kept baby entertained with Rice Krispies and sippy cup. 

I tried to mix up the patterns on them by wrapping elastic
around some, twisting some, rolling some, etc.

Once I was happy with the pattern and colour saturation,
I rinsed under cold water and then hung them to dry.

The first three I dyed hanging to dry. (I would only recommend this method if
you don't particularly care about the well-being of your chairs or floor.)

I fed baby lunch so she fell into a food coma to allow me
to finish since it was taking much longer than anticipated.

The dye is all absorbed when the water looks like this.
You may be able to get more than one scarf dyed
(depending on its size) per quantities specified above.

I debated about leaving this one like this since it looked
like a beautiful blue sky. I achieved this look by tying the
scarf in a loose knot. (I ended up dying the white part light
blue, but it still looks like a pretty sky.)

Be prepared for your hands and possibly tea towel to look like this.

The lot hanging to dry. Please excuse the diapers
and other random mess that is my laundry room. :)

The finished product all laid out. They still need a final wash and dry, and possibly an ironing. ;)

     So, after doing this, I can say that there really really is no exact science to Kool-Aid dyeing. You just have to play around with the method until you find what suits you. It was fun, but if you are planning on doing this with little kids, I would try starting with just six scarves or so, or else don't be a crazy perfectionist, because it did take me ALL afternoon to get them to turn out like this. 
     I am still planning on sewing loops on the ends of them so that they can also be attached to dowels to be used as those dance streamers. I'm sure Laura will enjoy playing with them now, but I'm hoping she will also enjoy them for years to come; they make great pretend-play items: necklaces, shawls, skirts, capes, leashes, flowers, fire, rainbows, or whatever else she imagines them to be!

Mat Leave

      A year ago today was my last day of work, so technically I am due back from maternity leave now, but I'm not going. Not yet, at least.

     When I got back from completing teacher's college in Australia two years ago, I began looking for work in our current area. There were certainly no teaching jobs to be had, I soon found out. And at the time, they weren't even accepting teachers for the supply list, so I was told. So, I broadened my search criteria to any job (that didn't suck too much). I spent quite a few months applying for job after job, but to no avail. Then I got pregnant in May, and the pressure was on! Five years of post-secondary education had inflated my ego, but I needed to get a job or else things would be very tight on one income once the baby came. So, I conceded and accepted a job at Tim Hortons. 
     The people I worked with were more than accommodating of my pregnant state and always treated me like a princess. Tim Hortons really isn't such a bad place to work after all, at least not if you have great co-workers like I did. But, great co-workers or not, the nature of the job required me to be on my feet for 8 hours a day, which, when you are very pregnant, can become very uncomfortable. 
     So, I decided to start my maternity leave a month early. It was nice to have some quiet time around the house to relax and get last-minute things done before the baby came. Once my maternity payments started coming in, Josh suggested I ration the money so I would effectively be able to extend my time off and be able to stay home longer with Laura. 
     Ideally, Josh and I would love for me to be able to stay home with our children before they go to school, but unfortunately I have a somewhat hefty student loan from our time in Australia that needs to be repaid. So, I guess we'll do what we can. Since I am not going back to my job at Timmies, I had to write a letter of resignation four weeks ago. My boss was more than understanding when I gave it to her. She said that if we could at all swing it so I could stay home with our children that we should, and she completely supported my decision. 
         I guess the point of this post is that I am very grateful to live in a country that has systems in place to support moms to stay at home as long as it does, and I am also grateful that I have such a wonderful boss. 
     And if anyone would like to kindly pay back my loan for me, we would totally be okay with that! ;)

Food For Thought

     About two months ago, Josh and a coworker were discussing his diet and how a lot of foods Josh loves make him feel ill. His coworker mentioned that he had done a 21-day detox and was surprised by how good he felt when he did it. Josh thought it might be a good idea to try it out, so his coworker lent us the book on the detox. Being the cook and meal planner, I was the one who ended up reading the book and going through the tedious task of finding meals that fit the very strict rules of the diet. It didn't sound like a whole lot of fun. We were already aware that cheese, whole wheat, aspartame, and tomato-based products were culprits of Josh's discomfort, but along with that, the detox ruled out:
    
1. red meat
2. dairy produce
3. fruit (except bananas), which isn't a problem for Josh ;)
4. wheat/ gluten/ yeast
5. alcohol
6. biscuits, cakes, doughnuts (although I'd say those fall in the category of wheat/gluten)
7. jams or spreads, except honey
8. coffee (including decaf) and tea, except herbal teas
9. sugar, chocolate, or sweets
10. artificially produced flavourings: ketchup, vinegar, mustard, soy sauce, etc.
      

      After Josh saw my first week's meal plan, he decided maybe we should take it one week at a time. (It would have been too much work to plan three weeks' worth of meals all at once only for us to give up half way through, anyway). I posted something about it on Facebook, and some of my friends commented that they had done it and vouched if you could get through the first few days, you really did end up feeling great. So, starting January 1st, we gave it a go. Josh did notice after a few days that he was down to approximately no heartburn or other gastro-intestinal ailments, but the headaches and caffeine withdrawal were no picnic. I'm not a coffee drinker, and so did not experience this, but I did have the headaches and felt very sluggish. I wasn't digging it, and was less motivated to stick with it because, really, this was Josh's idea, and I felt fine on our regular diet, where I was allowed to eat cheese. We undertook week two, but since I wasn't feeling better, (and was actually feeling worse than I normally did even after the "first few days") I caved. I wanted some cheese, dammit! I felt kind of bad, because I'm not really a quitter, and Josh was actually still motivated, despite his extreme McDonald's cravings...

     So, we decided to compromise and try to incorporate more of the themes and ideas from the detox into our regular diet. The thing is now, after some research, I feel like we really are fighting an uphill battle. "Don't eat dairy, its full of growth hormones and other toxins from processing." Okay, well, kids need milk - what's the alternative? Soy milk? It's made from genetically modified crops, along with all other soy products (like tofu) and is also processed. Almond milk? Rice milk? Still processed. Calcium and other vitamin supplements? All processed and not 'natural'. 

     In general, I am pretty anti-vegetarian, at least anti-those-who-don't-eat-meat-because-of-the-'poor-animals'. That is the way nature works, some animals eat vegetation, some animals eat meat. I took Zoology, I would know ;). Humans are omnivores - we eat both - and are designed to acquire nutrients from plants and animals for proper growth and development. If each participant in the food chain didn't consume their part, the whole system would be out of whack and everything would crumble. However, I have recently learned that livestock for consumption by the masses is not being raised in a sustainable fashion, which means the system will eventually collapse, anyway. It's all about the system, people! So, short from moving to the bush and starting a farm to grow our own food and raise our own un-hormoned and sustainable livestock, I don't really see a good solution to all of this. Part of me just wants to say 'screw it' and eat what tastes good, because you'll find something wrong with everything you eat. But, then again, I want to be a responsible citizen, and also, not eat toxic things, let alone feed them to my family.  I am so conflicted.

     How do you make an informed decision on these sorts of things? *shrugs* I guess, as the old saying goes, 'moderation is key'. I think for now we will be trying to cut down to meat every other day, and red meat (my favourite) to once a week, maximum. :( 

Oh well, at least I'll still have my cheese (for now).

Ahoy, Mate!

      For those who don't know, in 2008, Josh and I lived in Australia for the better part of the year while I did my teaching degree at University of Queensland in Brisbane. We made some amazing friends during that time, and I just wanted to give a shout out to all of them right now who are dealing with the flooding. Whether their houses went under or not, the repercussions are still affecting all of them. You're all in our thoughts, and I wish we could be there to help you out!

The street we lived on, Sir Fred Schonell Drive. Our house was just up there on the left.

Our friend Lauren in front of our old house. You can see from the water level
that the bottom floor (our apartment) was completely submerged,
while her upstairs unit flooded up to about 50cm. Lots of cleaning up to do. :(

The Elusive Sage Cat

     Given my background, I am undoubtedly thrilled that Laura loves animals. 
Her little face lights up when she sees our dogs first thing in the morning, and she lets out a short, happy shriek (because, hey, seeing our two giant, prancing mounds of fur after 11 hours of sleep is pretty exciting stuff at 7:30AM.) She also gets like this when we go to my mom's. Before my mom's two yappy dogs are even in sight, Laura can hear them barking at us, and that is enough to send her into Ecstatic Squealing Mode. 
     However, none of this compares to the pleasure she gets from catching but a glimpse of our cat, Sage. Our darling kitty will be seven this spring, and by now is wise enough to know that babies must be avoided at all costs. Even if it means starvation. (Just kidding, Sage wouldn't let anything get in the way of eating.) If Laura so much as hears a peep      - or a meow, as the case may be - from Sage, she toddles as fast as her little legs can carry her over to the laundry room door (which Sage is on the other side of) and uses her underdeveloped animal language to communicate that she is more than willing to come and play. Sage, of course, immediately bolts for it if she detects Miss Happy Shrieks stomping her way over. If Laura does happen to catch a glimpse of fleeting fur, her pleasure centre goes into overdrive and blissful, flailing caws and squawks ensue. 

before Sage wised up

Being the fairly simple-minded being that Laura currently is, she just can't comprehend why this intriguing sensory-board-of-an-animal is unwilling to play with her (and by 'play with her', I mean 'let her pull on every appendage and fur from miscellaneous body parts while also being bounced upon and/ or climbed over). Everyone and everything else in The World As Laura Knows It is. Poor Sage. 
     As was demonstrated to me this afternoon, all of Laura's wanting-what-you-can't-have has led to an absolute infatuation with cats. It was the first time I have ever seen her pay any attention to a book. I read to Laura every day, and every day she goes about playing with her toys as if no story is being read with Great Expression and Enthusiasm in the background. But today, we were down in the playroom, and she purposely chose a picture book off the shelf that was about animals. I opened it and was pointing out all the different animals and the noises they make (we've been working on this, at this time she thinks all animals say 'moo'), and when we got to the page about kittens, she totally lit up and let out her signature animal-voice shriek. When we had gone through all the pages, she was still paying attention (:o) and wanted to turn the pages back to the one with the kittens, and poke them accordingly. 
     I really hope that Laura maintains her love for and fascination with animals as she grows up; they can bring such joy to life, as she obviously already knows. ♥

Ode to a Pest

     'Pest' is one of the many many nicknames we have for our golden retriever, Chester. Over the (two) years we have had him, he has experienced a wide variety of confusion-inducing monikers. Chester Pants. Pants-a-tron. Flufflehead. Woofle. Woofleblaster. Wooflecopter. Cheester. Cheesebot. Cheddar Baby. Pester. Mr. Chester Pester Pants   (aka Mr. Pants). Chestington. Choncy. Choncinator.  Rooster. Roo Baby. Roo Poo Poo. Big Stink. Big Rooster Stink... you get the idea. 
        
      I grew up on a hobby farm where we always had at least two dogs in the house, and usually a slew of hunting dogs in the barn, among various other animals. Needless to say, there would be a large void in my life now if I didn't have any dogs. Josh, not particularly being a 'dog person', was well aware of this before we were married, and knew he would have to give in to us owning a dog once we lived together. He compromised and said we could get a dog provided he got to choose the breed. His choice was a golden retriever - the only dog he thought he would be able to 'tolerate'. Whatever that meant. I sullenly agreed. I had so many more exciting breeds of dog in mind that I wanted to own, but I would take what I could get. So, as soon as we were settled down, I promptly went and picked out an adorable, fluffy golden retriever puppy.

(He required a bath immediately upon
being brought home from the farm.)

He was the sweetest thing. Such a good, obedient boy. Never wrecked anything. Caught on to house-training really quickly. Was so snuggly and cuddly.     I was in heaven. 
When I miscarried a few weeks after we got him, he was my consolation, laying his head on my lap when I cried. He was seriously the perfect puppy. 
       
     Well, a few months went by, and despite my extreme fondness of Chester, my hankering for a "more interesting" dog didn't go away. So I began pestering Josh that we needed to get another one. What kind did I want?  My response of 'a great dane' was not well received. I started researching the breed more carefully, and decided I wanted a blue one. I looked around for breeders. The one I found that I liked sold puppies for  $1700 + tax. Yikes. (That works out to about $320/ pound.) There was no way I would be able to convince Josh of that. So, I kept looking. I did mention it, though, just so he would have the proper frame of reference for when I found the breeder who sold non-show-quality blue danes for $500. YAY! The hitch was the breeder was in Quebec. An over-eight-hour trip from our place. Damn. Josh hates traveling. There was no way that was going to happen. Well, conveniently enough, my sister and her fiancée, who happened to be coming back from a road trip to the Maritimes when the puppies were ready to go, agreed to pick up a puppy for us on their way through. YES!! Now there was no way he could refuse! He finally caved. And so began our life with two giant dogs.

      One day I had a friend over, and in our polite conversation it came up as to whether Josh and I each "had a dog". I immediately responded that no, I loved them both equally, while Josh simultaneously piped up that we did, in fact, have favourites. I was surprised, and asked him which dog was "his".    He said Willow.  
!!!!!!. 
I couldn't believe it; the dog he was so adamant against getting, was now his favourite! I really wish he had never pointed out that we had favourites, because after he did, I realized he was right. Chester, the dog that I was so blasé about getting, is my favourite. And then I became riddled with guilt. Okay, maybe not riddled, but I did feel guilty. I really hope no one ever asks us if we have favourite children. 
      Chester is such a soulful creature, I can't help but love him more. He is so emotionally attached to me, whereas Willow seems fairly indifferent. They both have their own spunky personalities that I love, but Chester is a dog after my own heart. He loves cuddling and being petted (which, granted, can sometimes get annoying, hence the nickname 'Pest'), but he is just so sweet and all he wants is my love and food. 
I think my love for him is also rooted in the fact that he was one of the only joys I had in a very dark year of my life. I don't think it will be possible for me to ever love another dog as much as I love him.
                                                  So, here's to you, my boy! 

(I guess this wasn't much of an 'ode' after all, at least, not in the traditional sense.)

Open Wide

       Today I went to the dentist to have three cavities filled. I hate going to the dentist     (but apparently not enough to stop eating teeth-rotting candy). I hate everything about it:

• I hate that my dentist is still in the city an hour from where we live now, which means I have to pack up my baby and everything that goes along with her for the day, and also coordinate with my mom's day off so she can watch her for me while I'm there.
• I hate that they "require" you take off your boots and inevitably end up getting wet socks due to the people who are self-exempt from following this rule.
• I hate that the hygienist hums along to the bad, bad "easy listening" music on the radio, because if I was lucky enough to be able to tune it before, I certainly am not able to now!
• I hate that they essentially tip you as far upside-down as possible without dumping you out of the chair, and then make you wear nerd goggles to protect your eyes from flying tooth particles that they are so kindly drilling out of your head.
• I hate the smell of drilled teeth. And the sound.
• I hate that while you are staring up at the ceiling and are blinded by that stupid bright light they shine in your mouth eyes, they come at you with pointy objects reminiscent of life-or-death operative surgical instruments and proceed to poke and prod you with them, asking if it hurts. YES, IT DOES.
• I hate that when I am in the dentist's chair, I need to consciously will myself to unclench. I think, at the very least, a free massage should be included after.
• I hate the smell of that carcinogenic crap they fill your teeth with. And the fact that it is carcinogenic. 
• I hate that they tell you to let them "tap tap tap" your teeth together to check the bite once they're done. My jaw doesn't really allow other people to do that... and then I feel stupid for not being able to control my voluntary muscles like everyone else seems to be capable of doing.
• I hate having to go around town afterwards with my still-frozen face and give people smiles that make them think I might be handicapped. (Not that there is anything wrong with being handicapped, its just not a look I'm going for.)
• I hate that when you were a kid, they tricked you into thinking that going to the dentist was fun, by giving you delicious-tasting fluoride treatments, a free pack of gum, a toothbrush, some floss, and various other "treasures" in a goody bag. It was almost as good as going to a birthday party.
• But probably most of all, I hate that I have been suckered into paying hundreds of dollars for this inhumane torture being inflicted on me!!

P.S. I actually do like my dentist as a person, I've had the same guy since I was a kid. He knows my family and is quite personable. Oh, and I like not having rotting holes in my head once we're all done. :)


ETA: The next morning, one of the fillings they put in fell out. Now I get to go and do it all over again. Yay.

Buffet's Open

       The last few days Laura has been inexplicably fussy. I want to say she's teething, but every time I say that, no tooth follows (however, Josh and I both saw her gums flaring the other day). I guess we'll see.   
       Anyway, she is also going through (what I hope is) a phase of requiring me to parallel play with her. Don't get me wrong, I am all for playing with my kid and I do enjoy it, but playing with blocks and cups while watching her chew on the xylophone mallet can only be entertaining for so long. Playing on my laptop in the same room just doesn't cut it anymore for her. The problem is, she isn't a good napper, so I am required to do this pretty much all. day. long. (Once she can play with me, I'm sure it will be more engaging, in fact, I'm looking forward to it.) 
       When she's being extra fussy and even my cup-playing isn't working to distract/ console her, I often resort to nursing (which always works, because how can you whine with a boob in your mouth?). She is also in a phase where she likes to nurse for approximately 23 seconds and then go back to what she was doing, but if I close up shop, she comes back looking for it 46 seconds later and resumes whining if it's not there. 
So, if you're looking for me, I'll be downstairs in the playroom playing cups where the buffet's open. 

Food Fight!

      In general, Laura has been a pretty good eater for us (so far). We have had two stints where she started refusing food, both of which were independence-seeking behaviours of wanting to feed herself, I soon realized. We had a good compromise going on for a while involving me feeding her half her meal as a puree and the other half would be finger food of some description that she could feed herself. Well, now that we are veering away from purees we have another battle on our hands: feeding her finger foods to the dogs. I guess she sees us giving the dogs scraps from our plates that we aren't going to eat, so she figures anything she doesn't want to eat she can give to the dogs, too. :S

     We have also cut back on the solid food we have been giving her to encourage her to breastfeed more (which has more calories), because of her low weight gain over the past few months. So she really isn't eating that many finger foods to begin with, and a lot of them are going to the dogs, especially the healthier (read: less good tasting) ones. We have started telling her 'no' when she hangs her little food-filled fingers over the edge of her highchair tray, and explain to her (over and over!) that the dogs have their own food, and that this food is for her. I'm starting to wonder if she thinks this is some fun new game to make Mom crazy, especially after last night's shenanigans... 

     She doesn't like to share noodles or cheerios much, but tonight we were having chicken & lentil soup (she only gets the food bits from the soup, no broth), which she was more than happy to share. After dropping some samples for the dogs I (once again) told her 'no' in a stern voice so she knew I meant business, which, instead of provoking the usual little whimpering pout, elicited a devilish cackle from her! She's 10 months old for crying out loud! You had to hear it! I couldn't believe it and had to laugh at the ridiculousness that was the situation, so I turned my head so she wouldn't see me.     I guess this means war!

feeding some unloved carrots to Chester

But who could be mad at this face?

P.S. On a happier note, she has developed the adorable habit of smacking her lips when she sees me getting ready to nurse her. <3

I LOVE MAKING STUFF

 One of the reasons I wanted to start a blog was to keep track of crafts and projects I have done, and gain inspiration from like-minded (or not-so-like-minded!) mommies for new ideas I would like to try. At about the end of October last year, I was on a creative high and started planning all sorts of things I wanted to make Laura for her first Christmas. Although I didn't get all of them finished (thanks to my already-frustrating sewing machine breaking) I did manage to crank out a few things:

           A rag quilt for Laura that I made using flannel and some of her old sleepers 
                         that were in some way unfit for use as pajamas anymore.

                  Twin Waldorf dolls, 'Lydia' and 'Lyra', for Laura and her "sister" Lily 

                                 (the daughter of our good friends in Australia)

                   This matching summery Christmas dress was also made for Lily, 

                                              though Laura is modeling it here.

                   Not technically 'made by me', but we spent an afternoon 

                  before Christmas painting ceramic ornaments at Crock A Doodle. 

                           This one was to commemorate Laura's first Christmas, 

                                                 and has her handprint on it.

                                      Sock monkeys for two of Laura's friends,

which I am now in love with making, and have a few more planned.

My TO DO LIST of projects I'd like to make in the new year, of which I am keeping track of, along with the inspiration, is below:

• rainbow alphabet foam blocks (in progress)
• sock monkey for Laura DONE!
• rag quilt for a new baby in the (extended) family DONE!
  
• family Christmas stockings (in progress)
• cloth bag to store finger puppets
• hand-dyed playsilks from here  DONE!
• playroom furniture (perhaps this?) DONE!
  
• a play kitchen that doubles as a puppet theatre on the other side DONE!
• maybe a homemade "nuzzle" for Laura's big girl room and/or a wooden bedrail like these 

(It seems I am placing a lot of faith in my husband's power-tool-usage abilities ;))