The January blues are sucking my soul already. It's going to be a long winter. I need reminders like this:


"May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art – write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. May your coming year be a wonderful thing in which you dream both dangerously and outrageously. I hope you’ll make something that didn’t exist before you made it, that you will be loved and you will be liked and you will have people to love and to like in return. And most importantly, because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now – I hope that you will, when you need to be, be wise and that you will always be kind. And I hope that somewhere in the next year you surprise yourself." ~ New Year's Benediction from Neil Gaiman

via The Improvised Life.

While I have come to appreciate her writing, with it's highly-readable pacing, melodic phrasing, wonderfully-developed characters and compelling plots, can someone please suggest a way to get Sandra Boyton's "Moo, Ba, La La La" out of my head?


Cows say "Moo"
Sheep say "Baa"
Three Singing Pigs say "La La La!"

No, No! you say
That isn't right!
Pigs say "Oink" all day and night

Sigh.

I need this bag like I've never needed any other reusable bag.

"I am trying to connect with you on a human level. To avoid injury, please remain still and the moment will pass. Let’s get through this together and never speak of it again."

~ Reading between the lines

If pictures of laid-back kitchens make your tiny heart go pitter-patter, click here and here for a heart attack.

-29C

!!!!!!!!!

That is all.

I may go home tonight and try to make some "Yellowknife fog". If you can't afford to escape it, at least try to have fun with it.

My kid is almost 17 months old and doesn't talk yet.

• She points at the dogs and says "da". She pats them and says "goo da". She points at all sorts of things and says "dat?".
• When asked "where's your ___?" , she will correctly identify her: mouth, tongue, nose, eye, hair, ear, foot, hand and belly button.
• When asked to go and get something (e.g., a book) and bring it back to us she will (if she feels like it and doesn't get distracted by something shiny).
• She makes the signs for "up" and "please". We haven't taught her any others yet but "thank you" is next on list. If she's going to be mute she may as well be polite.

I've mentioned before that I come from a family a tad obsessed with early speech. For the last 5-6 months, almost every conversation I've had with a couple of family members in particular has involved inquiries as to whether she's "talking yet". They live far away so I could just fake it and say yes but I'm generally a truthful person, mostly because it's just easier and I'm lazy like that. I may be forced to become a pathological liar to maintain my sanity if this keeps up.

I know that it's partly because they live far away and don't get to see her very often. I know that they mean well and just want to be part of her growth and development but it's really starting to wear on me. Last night, after a particularly lengthy conversation with my Grandmother about why my daughter wasn't talking yet (during which I repeatedly emphasized that: she's fine; we're not worried; she's not actually considered delayed; she can do all of the above "talking-esque" things; her doctor is not worried, etc.) , she called me back to let me know that her son (my uncle) had been "tongue-tied" but the doctor had fixed it and did I think that maybe that was my daughter's problem? I told her that after 17 months of successful nursing and at least a dozen photos of my kid doing her best Gene Simmons impressions, I was not terribly worried about that particular issue.

Add this to the list of things no one told me about parenting: the worst, most self-confidence-crushing advice/comments will come from your own, possibly well-meaning, family members.

I am hereby promising (I may even get it tattooed on me somewhere) that when my kids have children I will SHUT THE FUCK UP and leave them to it.

Query: does wishing that I could have a general "assistance" button for life mean that I have a subconscious desire to find religion? Or perhaps it has just been one of those weeks?

I'm not going to speak for all middle class, reasonably culturally-aware Caucasian parents but damn, there are not a lot of non-whitey toys out there and I think it's a tad bothersome.


I'm not so uptight as to think that my kid is at risk of becoming a racist because her toys only come in one colour but surely there must be more demand for toys that better reflect basic reality. If I was anything other than blindingly white, you can sure as hell bet that I'd be complaining loudly to toy companies. What century are we living in?

For example, I grew up loving to play with the German juggernaut Playmobil, but they're definitely not overly concerned with accurately representing racial diversity in their toys. Aside from the Egyptians, one dude in the entire African safari theme and a Masai warrior, apparently everyone "living in the city" is whiter-than-white. Even the darker-skinned "leisure people" look like they're just working on good tans. Compared to them, the Mongolian warrior looks like he spends his days in a cubicle, well away from the skin-tinting influences of the sun. It's ridiculous.

Lest I seem to being beating-up on the Germans too much, Fisher-Price Little People aren't much better. Though they've at least made efforts to incorporate some diversity into daily life (I think the one on the left is supposed to be generic-Asian) as opposed to relegating non-Caucasians to "theme" sets. Still, I find it ironic that their website conspicuously shows a range of kids playing with their toys but when you look closer, the kids are almost always playing with Caucasian figures. Nicely done.

However, I do feel somewhat comforted that, judging by this picture that my husband sent me today of the figures my kid arranged, I shouldn't be too worried that limited access to racially-diverse toys will render my child unable to relate to others:

"Their heads are so full of new, wonderful, and sometimes terrifying things that they have never experienced before. How could they NOT be on edge? Have YOU ever been in a situation where the world as you know it is turning upside down and stimulus is coming at you from all sides? Like the time you drank the “special” punch at a college party, and the people inside the TV kept telling you that you had to take your socks off and put them on again or the house would roll out of the yard and onto the Interstate? How calm were you when someone who didn’t even believe in the TV people told you to settle down and keep your socks on?

That’s how life is during every moment of a toddler’s day." ~ Beta Dad

""The culture that exists around making food with breast milk – women make bread, yogurt, ice cream, soup…you name it," Ms. Simun said. "In some ways, I’m just bringing a niche food product to the mainstream. Kind of like caviar." Kind of." ~ Globe and Mail


A possible, yet "untapped", niche market for stay-at-home-moms?

The weather warmed up to a toasty -8C so I took my phone for a run.

"Egg banking also raises sticky social questions: How old should a mother be when she has a child? How long should clinics hold the eggs? Should there be an upper age limit for transferring fertilized eggs back into a woman's womb? Others say it smacks of sexism to suggest age limits should be imposed on a woman's right to bear children -- or access the technologies that could allow her to extend her reproductive clock -- when no one imposes a biological deadline on men." ~ Ottawa Citizen


I've talked before about some of my opinions on the Pill and the impacts it has had on myself and women I know. Women who put-off having babies to get educations, careers, houses and spouses. Women who were shocked when they didn't get pregnant instantly.

I can't say I regret not having kids earlier. I wouldn't have met my husband. I wouldn't have the job I have now; the one that lets me support my family so my husband can stay home with our daughter. I wouldn't have been able to afford to buy our house. I also look back and think that my 20s were a period of immense uselessness and stupidity. If I hadn't been in school, I probably wouldn't have accomplished much of anything.

However, the other day my brother sent me a link to this Salon piece on Mormon mommy-bloggers. The author, a self-described "young, feminist, atheist" ponders why she's obsessed with reading blogs written by young, married, Mormon, mothers. Educated young women who've decided in their early 20s to get married and have children. And are happy about it.

Sure there's the argument that they've just been indoctrinated/brainwashed by their religion to accept a role as young mothers and wives. But why when I read their blogs do I sometimes feel that perhaps I'm the one that's been indoctrinated? From childhood, constantly told that my path to personal fulfillment lies with an (expensive and extensive) education, a career, a marriage, a house and then, maybe, children.

I really have no regrets about the direction my life has taken (well, maybe the student loans, and I didn't get duped as bad as some people) but I find it's funny/ironic/sad that the only time in my life that I have had a strong, secure sense of self is since I became someone's wife and then someone's mother. Not my education, not the house that I bought myself, not my career. Making a family has given me a feeling of groundedness that nothing else has. For the first time in my life, I'm terribly happy being me.

Biology is sexist. But this isn't a problem until a culture starts strongly discouraging women from having children before establishing a career. Or acting like people in their 20s are not capable of being good, responsible parents. Maybe I really was useless in my 20s but maybe having kids then would have given me the sense of focus and purpose it's given me now. Perhaps it would have made me a better person.

With respect to egg banking, etc., a woman should have just as much right as a man to use available technologies to extend her reproductive life. It's just sad that for many women it has become an issue of necessity rather than choice. Maybe for this next generation, the pendulum can swing a little back in the other direction so that it's less shocking when a woman decides to have a family in her 20s and then, if she wants, start a career later.

For Christmas, the kid got Volume 1 and 2 of Sesame Street: Old School.


She and I were feeling a little bored and shack-wacky the other night so I popped the first one in and was initially quite delighted/surprised/entertained to see that they've included a nice little disclaimer at the beginning that says these DVDs are intended for adult audiences and "may not meet the needs of today's preschool children." Awesome.

Of course, after enjoying the first few minutes, I was completely disturbed to see this segment (click link to watch, safe for work. Well, as long as you don't work for CFIA or similar) about milk production.

I'm not sure whether the music or all the milk "moneyshots" are more offensive to me. Or, for the more hardcore lactivists, perhaps the image of a young baby with a bottle of cow juice in it's mouth. But seriously, a 6 minute milkporn in the middle of a child's TV show? Amazing.

To think that I imagined that my childhood TV was mostly free of gratuitous product placement. My innocence has been shattered.

What's worse, apparently when they started Sesame Street there was concern that children wouldn't be able to tell the difference between reality and muppets. It seems they didn't have similar concerns about lying to them about the life of a milk cow. Fresh air? Grass? Sunny skies? Ha, let me tell you about factory farms...

I just hope my child can recover from this trauma to watch the next 5 DVDs. There's sure to be more gold in them if her parents can stop laughing/rewinding long enough to put the next one in.

A couple of weekend snaps.

Does anyone else suffer from "shoulda just bought it" syndrome?


I saw these (or something very similar) baby slippers at a shop while I was in BC. And now I'm kicking myself in the ass for not getting them.

I spent far too long on the Internet just trying to find out who makes them. They're painfully cute and terribly practical for keeping little feet warm in cold Ottawa winters. A perfect combination for kids' stuff.

However, they're not cheap. I tried (with no success) to find some knock-offs on Etsy. I even looked on some sites for gently used ones but the ones for sale are all too small. Sigh. If I'd bought them in BC I could have justified them as a vacation purchase. Now that we're back and it's January, my brain is stuck in frugality mode and they seem less necessary. Maybe I can justify them as a half-birthday gift for the kid? 18 months is a big one developmentally-speaking right? Right?

A natural evolution (hahahahaha, sorry, I can't help myself, it's a tic) from all my talk about eating people is researching optimal human exercise.


I've been a lazy "runner" for years. I'm not fast. My ancestors are Scottish. You won't see us winning (or even qualifying for) Olympic speed events. Sustained movement is always my main goal. I try to hit 3 runs a week, usually about 6-10k each. I've run 21 and 30K "races" (I don't register or time myself, I just run until I finish). I walk to work. I tend to be someone who runs up stairs or escalators. I like moving but I've always felt like I could and should do more. It's just been difficult to find something I know I'll stick with.

I loath most team sports (the exception being rowing but that's more of an individual sport done with other people). I've always hated gyms and most especially weight rooms: the mirrors, the dead air, the smells of other humans, the machines, the counting of repetitions, the repetitions, the waiting for machines and the freaks. I lack the self-discipline to work out at home. I've always been more attracted to exercise outside, in ways that made sense from a "humans are built to do this" kinda way. Like hiking or running or swimming.

Reading about paleo eating inevitably gets you linked to stuff about CrossFit (and the dramatic soap-opera style breakup of paleo-guru Robb Wolf and CrossFit: they dumped him for "The Zone" - seriously, who says this stuff isn't controversial and interesting?). However, to me CrossFit is just another way of paying working out in a gym. In groups. With people watching you. Shudder.

Erwan Le Corre seems to be the dude everyone points to for a more evolutionary approach to exercise. This article is a great interview/explanation of his "MovNat"program. Typically, although I applaud anyone for figuring out how to make money doing something they're good at, I have an instinctual distrust for someone who's selling something. However, I find the fundamental ideas that Le Corre pitches to be interesting and logically-founded. Basically, he argues that we've all become domesticated and most of the exercise we do is useless and maybe even harmful. He's got an easy time finding compelling examples to back himself up. Plus, I have to love an athletic man who doesn't like weight rooms.

However, I think that maybe he's missed a whole realm of other "natural" exercise options. I was in the best shape I've ever been in when I was on maternity leave. In addition to my normal running schedule, I was hauling my growing child (and frequently a basket of laundry) up two fights of stairs multiple times a day for chores and diaper changes. Walking to the store with the kid in a backpack and dragging home grocery bags. Not all domestication has resulted in laziness. Hell, I think some of it has made us work harder. My ancestors never needed to clean a 3-storey house in under an hour, dragging a half-busted ShopVac around while fending off loving attention/shouts of hunger from dogs and children. Good cardio that.

Anyway, for those of you following me on my path of regression, stay tuned for my post about how I think the key to solving many modern mental health issues is with the (re)introduction of large carnivores into urban areas. Seriously. I mean, you have to admit that any day that you survive a near-death, run-in with a Siberian tiger while picking up your Starbucks is sure to feel amazing. Just think of how good that coffee will taste once your heart rate has dropped back to normal so you can swallow again. No (legal) drug will ever be able to give you that feeling.

It’s not that he envisions doctors making all their decisions based solely on solid evidence—there’s simply too much complexity in patient treatment to pin down every situation with a great study. “Doctors need to rely on instinct and judgment to make choices,” he says. “But these choices should be as informed as possible by the evidence. And if the evidence isn’t good, doctors should know that, too. And so should patients.”


“Science is a noble endeavor, but it’s also a low-yield endeavor,” he says. “I’m not sure that more than a very small percentage of medical research is ever likely to lead to major improvements in clinical outcomes and quality of life. We should be very comfortable with that fact.”


~ Lies, Damned Lies, and Medical Science

One of our Newfie friends has a great expression that goes: "You can't tell the mind of a squid."


Somehow this frequently pops into my mind when watching the kid get into things. For example, the other night we were at our local Value Village and in the toy section she went straight for an empty pink plastic Barbie suitcase and then proceeded to drag it around the entire store.





I wonder if squid are partial to Barbie?

This weekend, my sweet daughter helped me cross 2 more items off of the parenting experiences list:

1. Getting puked on (not just cute baby spit but actual half-digested-blueberries-and-bubble-gum-liquid Tylenol vomit)
2. Having your child hand you a piece of poop (facilitated by a disposable diaper. Damn their easy-access butt-crack panel. Yet another reason I love our cloth diapers.)

In both cases, I have to say I have no idea how single parents manage to cope. I definitely needed a back-up set of hands and someone to share a "What The Fuck?!" look with.

"I love my son more than anything in existence. And parenthood is the worst idea anyone ever had. I may die trying in vain to reconcile this." ~Scott Rosann


via Alice Bradley

As promised, my much-anticipated, post-holiday season take on assisted suicide:


In brief: if suicide is legal then it's a gross violation of fundamental human rights to not allow people the option of assisted suicide.

Now, to be clear at the outset, what I am talking about here is only assisted suicide (i.e., helping a mentally competent person to end his or her life by request in order to end suffering). I'll save debates about other forms of euthanasia for another fun day.

To me, one of the most interesting aspects of the debate around the legalization/decriminalization of assisted suicide is that it's the only situation in which you'll find most disability advocates arguing against the accommodation of people with disabilities. This position is not only hypocritical and illogical but also a profound tragedy. The inability/unwillingness of disability advocates to distinguish between assisted suicide and the broader notion of "euthanasia" and the more controversial forms of death it encompasses denies a vocal, effective advocacy group to individuals who desire to have suicide as an end-of-life option.

There is also a tendency within the disability community to further mix end-of-life issues in with concepts of eugenics and to conflate it all as one big "slippery slope". As in: if we allow competent people to request assistance in ending their own lives then we'll be forced to permit doctors/the government/etc. to murder people who limp or lisp. Again, not supported by logic nor helpful to a proper debate/discourse. The experience of the Netherlands and other countries shows clearly that it is possible to draw strict lines around was is, and is not, acceptable. Putting a toe on the slope does not mean you will always slip right to the bottom.

Interestingly, Canada recently ratified the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. This, much-lauded by disability advocates, international human rights instrument is intended to protect the rights and dignity of persons with disabilities. Parties to the Convention are required to promote, protect and ensure the full enjoyment of human rights by persons with disabilities, and to ensure that they enjoy full equality under the law. Although, in theory, Section 15 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms already protects these same rights, the Sue Rodriguez case saw the Supreme Court of Canada finding that the (acknowledged) violation of her Section 15 rights was justifiable in a "free and democratic society" by relying on the good old slippery slope argument.

Given the ratification of the Convention, and the fact that Beverly McLachlin who dissented in the Rodriguez decision is currently the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, it will be interesting to see if a new assisted suicide case would reach a different conclusion. However, because of the common law "requirement" that judges reach conclusions that are consistent with previous decisions (aka stare decisis), a successful case will likely have to take a significantly different angle from the one taken by Sue Rodriguez.

Recently, The Walrus had an interesting article arguing that what the pro-assisted suicide camp really needs is a Henry Morgentaler. An individual (likely/ideally a doctor but not necessarily) willing to come forward and argue that they are morally obligated to assist, upon request, a competent individual commit the suicide that, by the nature of their disability/incapacity, they are unable to perform themselves. However, one problem with co-opting this approach is that, while Morgentaler was able to argue that he as a doctor was morally obligated to provide abortions, making a parallel argument is not as tidy for assisted suicide.

In essence, Morgentaler argued that his doctorly duty to safeguard the life and health of the women who came to him outweighed his duty to obey the law. This argument is not so easily made with assisted suicide as people tend to get caught up in the whole Hippocratic/10 Commandments "Thou Shall Not Kill" line of thought. With abortion, you can at least argue that by ending one life safely, you save the other. Typically, there's no other life to be saved when you commit suicide. As well, the victims of botched "backstreet" assisted suicides are simply not walking around with unique health problems creating statistics. Yet.

The other issue (and here's where I get particularly cynical, or realistic, depending on your point of view) is that Morgentaler was also able to benefit financially from his stance. As a result of public hospitals and doctors being unwilling/unable to perform abortions, private abortion clinics filled a user-pays niche market in Canada. And unhappily-pregnant women were/are definitely willing to pay. To be clear, I have no doubt he was at least in part motivated by altruism but it doesn't hurt that he had the money to pay his legal bills. To date, there's been no identified parallel market gap for assisted suicide. Or at least not one anyone is willing talking about. Yet.

And now we come to the "yets": I strongly suspect that another interesting sociological change we'll see as a result of the aging Boomers is the legalization of assisted suicide.

Boomers are a large, loud group used to getting what they want, when they want it and they're often willing to pay for it (or complain very loudly until someone else does). They're also experiencing increasing rates of disability related to aging, obesity and autoimmune disorders. Just try to tell the Boomers that they're not allowed to pick the timing and manner of their deaths. If Canada tells them no, they'll simply find/create a black market or go to another more entrepreneurial country with less stringent laws. The recent interest around the "liberation" treatment for MS is an excellent example of the lengths people will go to get what they want. Regardless of laws or risks.

Anyway, for what it's worth, that's pretty much my perspective. Feel free to discuss among yourselves.

You come for the random iPhone snaps, conversations about boobs and paleo brownie recipes and stay for the discussions about assisted suicide.


Seriously though, these brownies are fucking amazing. I'm not remotely into deprivation diets or desserts that make you think of a better "real" treat the whole time you're eating them. If I'm going to bake, I'm going to bake something that makes me want to eat the whole pan in one sitting while guarding it with a fork to stab anyone who tries to get a taste. Anything else is a waste of time and calories.


Grain-free Brownies (adapted from Health Bent)

(makes 9)
1 cup almond butter
1/2 cup canned coconut milk or cream
2 eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup cocoa powder (sifted)
1/4 cup brown sugar (optional but I used it)
1/3 cup dark chocolate chips
1/3 cup chopped nuts (optional)

1. Preheat the oven to 350F.
2. Grease an 8x8 baking dish.
3. In a bowl whisk together the almond butter, coconut milk, eggs, vanilla and salt. Then add the cocoa powder, sugar, and chocolate chips.
4. Pour into the prepared baking dish and top with chopped nuts.
5. Bake for approximately 35-40 minutes until top feels firm to the touch.

Today I'm high on NeoCitran and sleep deprivation.


I'm rocking a particularly fun post-holiday head cold and the kid has decided that she doesn't need to sleep for more than 15 minutes at a stretch while me and my boobs-of-comfort are at her disposal. Last night around 2am (I think) I took my box of Kleenex and abandoned my own bed for the child-free comforts of the kid's bed. It was the best sleep I've had in months. Another 8-10 hours or so of that and I might start to feel human again.

Tossing the crib in favour of a futon was a good idea for the nights when the husband is out, I'm beat and her majesty is up late rocking-and-rolling. I can just hit the lights, crawl into her bed and snooze until she winds herself down enough to nurse to sleep. Last night however, I found myself considering the challenges of attempting the cry-it-out method sans handy baby containment device. Because, so help me god, there has to be a better way.

I pretty sure her new restlessness relates to the fact that her gums are still squeezing out the 4 molars (!) she decided to get over Christmas but damned if she doesn't settled down and sleep better when I'm not there. Aside from a couple of bitching sessions the husband handled after I left the bed, she slept until almost 11am. I'm so envious that I'd be angry if I wasn't too exhausted to muster the emotional energy for that nonsense.

Ya, there's no way I'm going through this fun with more than one additional kid. There's a reason why I've never wanted a puppy or kitten. Give me adult pets with adult digestive systems and sleep habits over cute animal babies any day.

At least when she's a teenager and hates my guts she'll want to sleep all day.

I'm going to stencil this one on a tea towel:

FFFFound via my brother.

“One is happy as a result of one’s own efforts, once one knows of the necessary ingredients of happiness — simple tastes, a certain degree of courage, self-denial to a point, love of work, and, above all, a clear conscience. Happiness is no vague dream, of that I now feel certain.” ~ George Sand


Happiness Project via Swiss Miss

Well, we all survived.

I'd like to thank Air Canada for rising to the stressful occasion by not losing our bags, not having the (inevitable) flight delays impact any connections and comping us 3 rum-and-cokes on the flight out. The flight attendant must have seen the toddler-travel-terror in our eyes and taken pity on us.

Things I have learned from this trip:

• no gadget you can buy will amuse your 16 month old as much as a plastic cup full of half-used ice cubes and a stir-stick. Don't worry, I made sure all the rum had been sucked off of them before letting her play with them.
• red-eye/night flights do not guarantee sleep, even in a kid who consistently sleeps in cars
• if the flight is 4 hours long, the presence of a (even very well-behaved) toddler on your lap will create a rip in the time-space continuum, shifting the laws of physics to make it feel like a 12 hour trip. Hey, I took Physics 100, I know these things are possible.
• if your kid hasn't been exposed to much TV, it may mean that she will be more interested in aggressively whapping all the buttons on your expensive laptop than watching some silly muppets sing about cookies
• if you are normally a very healthy person, taking a vacation will ensure that you will get sicker than you've been in years. It will happen 15 minutes after you've finished the entree of a wonderful expensive meal in a lovely restaurant and right before you even get a chance to eat the most beautiful creme brulee you've ever seen. You will spend the next 24 hours unable to leave a bathroom but somehow delighted that, unlike the Norwalk Virus, this hell-bug at least allows you the dignity of clearing one orifice before needing to evacuate the other.
• when you are motivated to fly across the country for Christmas to assuage the guilt caused by the repeated comments from your Grandmother that "she hoped she'd live long enough to see the baby in the spring", do not be surprised when she says, in response to your gift of a rather big book about the history of Christianity, that "she hopes she lives long enough to finish it". She's found her line and she's going to work it for all it's worth. If she makes it to next year, she's getting a photo of the kid and a subscription to Readers Digest.
• a New Years Eve spent in a plane somewhere over western Ontario with your two favourite people on the planet can easily top any other one you've had before