Oh God. What a tiring day.

I think I have become one of those parents. You know, one of those Moms that seems to always think their child needs an advocate? Always there to make sure their child's voice is heard and that everything that is coming to their child, does? Yes, one of those.

I have been labeled, by my own words, the "sleep nazi" at daycare. Other parents have started to use the term affectionately when speaking of me and although the daycare providers most likely refrain from using such language, I'm sure they have a whole slew of other similar descriptions when it comes to me and my insistence on Franklin's naps.

Simply put, to me and D, good sleep and a strong diet equals a healthy person. We give Franklin the most we can in terms of nutritious food. As far as naps are concerned, he still gets two a day - when he's at home with us. At daycare, they seem to be convinced that he is on the road to the one nap a day phase. Many kids his age do only require one nap a day. Franklin plays hard and clearly needs two. Everyday he gets one nap, the sleep is shorter, the eating diminishes, the accidents increase, and his general health deteriorates.

I have explained this to his daycare already. In fact, I think they will be glad to see me go to the next centre when there is room. Franklin they love, me?... well, as far as I'm concerned, when I'm trusting my child with them and I pay as much as I do, I want things to be as consistent there as they are at home.

I realize things are harder to anticipate with 10 kids than at home with only one. They are all great caregivers and connect amazingly well with all the children. Nevertheless, I don't want my son going to sleep while they are trying to feed him lunch because he hasn't had a morning nap yet. I don't think it's cute to see him nod off hungry. A twenty minute nap for the whole day because he "just wants to play and play and play" is not OK in my eyes. I applaud all those parents that are so seasoned to know that in the big scheme of things it doesn't matter. I see how laid back you are and I envy you. I don't operate that way. I know Franklin, I know that the lack of sleep accumulates day after day until he is exhausted and sick. Then D or I end up taking time off work not to spend fun time with Franklin to go out to the park and see neat things. Rather, it is spent indoors doing crafts and playing games while I wipe his nose, or in this case, his green, snot coloured, weeping eyes.

I have always been told I'm such a laid back person, that Franklin will be so easy-going because both D and I are so calm. Well, I don't feel calm these days, not when I'm putting my son to bed an hour and a half early because he is sick and tired - again.

So, I'm one of those parents and I don't see myself changing until he's 60 years old (from the grave, baby. I'll be haunting everyone from the grave...)

Being pregnant and having a baby for the first time is nerve-wracking to say the least. There is always so much advice people try to load upon you and whatever their intentions are, it can drive you slowly insane.

I remember when I was pregnant, a co-worker of mine seemed to joke constantly that I was getting more and more enormous every day. She would add that she never got that big and ask, "Just how much weight have you gained?" On the other hand I had people questioning the fact that I still exercised everyday and that perhaps I was jeopardizing my baby for my own vanity.
I become obsessed with how I was "supposed" to look. I wasn't sure if I was the "right" size because I had never done the pregnancy thing before and I didn't have any friends in the city that had ever been pregnant. Every week I would check out my tummy in the mirror and bring up this website to compare myself with other people. I would compare myself with other pregnant woman on the street as well but I was never sure what trimester they were in and I certainly wasn't going to ask. Once we started pre-natal class I was flabbergasted. They were all in the same trimester but were radically different sizes. I was normal because I was different! What a concept. Something that I knew personally but for some reason thought I had to slot into something acceptable because I was pregnant.

These days I get emails from a baby site that gives me the odd bit of news such as how certain fish is no longer safe for toddlers. It's a good site and I'm sure if you read this blog once and awhile you'll notice I link to it quite often. Nevertheless it also tends to send me sites like this. I used to gobble it all up. Was Franklin lifting his head on time? When is he going to roll over? Is he gurgling and cooing in the right way, at the right time?
I think I was a little obsessed. I didn't learn my lesson with the belly gallery competition apparently.

Now, it is different. Since Franklin has started to crawl I've been a lot more relaxed about it all. I notice other people still evaluate him and ask me questions on his development but I can't remember the last time I really cared. Perhaps development through the early months is a good thing to keep track of but these days, at almost 18 months, he will just learn at his own pace, be it a little faster in some areas and a little slower in others.

What is cool (and a little bit scary) however, is that apparently at 18 months "most" kids (whatever this is supposed to mean) will be able to ride a tricycle! For all the "big kid bed" and toilet training stuff that will eventually come our way in his own time, the fact that he might be able to ride a tricycle in the somewhat near future is amazing!

This is going to get exciting!

Can things get any better than this?

The other day Franklin decided he wanted to go to daycare wearing a head band. You know, one of those terry head bands from an Olivia Newton John video? In fact, everyone at daycare was singing "Lets Get Physical" as he ran around the room.

Such style, so ahead of his time... those things are coming back right? Doesn't everything? - except neon green spandex, please, not neon green spandex. I was horrified the first time.

In addition to his adorable fashion sense he is going to bed so amazingly well! I never thought the day would come where I would be able to give him some warm milk, kiss him on the head, set him down in his crib and say goodnight to hear,

"Night Night Mommy, Bye Bye, Night Night"

... and then silence. He seriously goes to sleep on his own! Of course, I'm probably jinxing myself here. So many night-wakings and sleep teaching has led us up to this point. It's nice to see it work so well.
Yet, I fear the time when we are to set up his own bed. A couple of toddlers I know, that are Franklin's age, climb out of their crib. Their parents have started working these acrobats into their own "big kid beds" - with the guard rail and everything. It all seems so soon! All these questions... how is it done? When's the best time? Are there any problems I can avoid beforehand? What if it's just considered a game? Why isn't Franklin climbing out of his crib?

So, of course, with all this "big kid" stuff, I start to wonder, when do I start toilet training? How do I know if he's ready? Do I show him a training seat now? Can you start too late? Too early?

Ack! He's growing up so fast! Rewind! Rewind!

So, obviously many of you surf with your children, or surf as children, because I now have a whole new collection of websites to visit with Franklin - places I wouldn't have thought to look too. I'm thinking of creating a place here with links and reviews of site for kids. Just a thought, something I'll get around to in my spare time... uh, yeah.

I've started dreaming of climatic fantasies where I can breathe through my nose and tissue paper doesn't look like a form of torture. I never seemed to get sick before but I've been waging a battle for about two weeks now. Every time I think I'm getting better it comes up behind me and slaps me in the ass. Of course, getting more than 4 hours sleep a night would help...

Ok, on to more relevant material for the general population (yes, well, just humor me here).

Check out The Hazzards (formally known as the Ukes of Hazzard),

and specifically this song:

Quite funny in a haha-i-can-laugh-at-myself-and-therefore-at-all-ex-boyfriend-drama-from-my-twenties kind of funny.

lala la la...

When I'm sick and have an energetic toddler to hang out with I find I grab almost anything to entertain him. In the last couple of days I brought out everything I could think of to avoid plunking him in front of the TV. Still, I needed to entertain him long enough to be able to sit back and work myself into a fit of wheezing and coughing. It's not like D wasn't there to help out, he certainly was, it's just that I wanted to spend time with him even though I really didn't have the energy.

Go! Go! Play Squash I would say, I'm fine! (hack hack, sniffle, snort).

Out came all the games we have: Backgammon, Trivial Pursuit, Scrabble, Dr. Suess, Crib, decks of cards... (he doesn't actually play these, but rather plays with them)

Then comes the photo albums (which are in the same wardrobe): "Look Franklin! This is you when you were first born! This is Mom's nipple! Yes, Nipple, You can say it! Niiiipppule, There you go! Nipple! They used to be soft, now they are as tough as leather, Leaaatherrrr...

After the wardrobe has been fully explored we move to the books, books of dogs, political science, oooooh, Lord Byron... that one didn't last long.

Finally, like always, we end up on the computer. At first I couldn't find anything for kids on the net but I soon got the hang of it.

There are webpages with animal sounds and fire engine sirens

and then there's all sorts of pictures of sea turtles or camels...

After that there's the ever favoured Kozo and then on to the cartoon websites. I find most of them are for children older than Franklin. Bob the Builder is one of his favorite cartoons but the website doesn't capture his attention other than to identify the characters. On the other hand, Wumpa's World and Sesame Street are excellent.

Sooooo... is plunking your child in front of the computer the same as the TV? I'm going to hope it's not since I'm there pointing everything out and talking about how many dogs Mr. Noodle needs to find and counting the balloons that Harold the Helicopter needs to collect for the fair. I guess we'll find out soon enough - with his rejection or acceptance to Yale.

So many uninteresting thoughts, so little time before I throw myself into bed and cough my way to morning...

Franklin and I are sick again. I either blame daycare or work - both are filled with sick people who are far too willing to share their germs. Yesterday, Franklin and I went home early due to our health, Our throats are so sore and swollen it is hard to swallow and although I can't speak for Franklin, I would prefer to just let the saliva drip from my mouth instead of going through the pain of actually swallowing. Franklin has been having trouble getting food down and there were two incidences where the small morsel of food he tried to swallow got stuck and I had to calmly reach down his throat to remove what he was choking on. I swear, being a mother has really taught me to act calmly in tense situations. Both times he was having trouble I was screaming inside yet, both times I watched my outside actions patiently come to his aid. Although I hope to never go through that again, it was amazing to see myself handle it that way.

On a less dramatic note, I have recently gone through a steep learning curve in terms of hacking and other such juvenile nonsense. Turns out, my computer was incredibly vulnerable and surprisingly quite interesting to a few people. I really have to say, what the hell do people need to enter my computer for? At least I know a bunch of new terms for trivial pursuit - dumpster diving, honey pots, cryptographic, shoulder surfing, war-dialing... and the beat goes on... it's all fun and games until someone loses an eye.

I have two newly knocked up friends who should expect a subscription to hip Mama on their doorsteps. I couldn't decide between Mamalicious or hip Mama. I chose the latter due to the fact that it's been out longer. I think I might get a subscription myself.

Speaking of subscriptions, I am more and more impressed with The Walrus. This month's issue has an article by Michael Adams titled "Continental Drift". The piece is about the evolving differences and similarities between Canadians and Americans. I think I'm going to break down and subscribe to this too. I'm not sure if the bookstore appreciates me borrowing one off the stands every month.

Finally, I really must trudge off to bed. I have assignments due, a lunch to make and some dishes to wash. Two thirds of these will be done by tonight. At least Franklin's fish, who he appropriately named "Quack", is doing better. We have a new filter and I no longer have to change the water every night. I never gave it much thought when we decided to give Franklin a fish tank for his first birthday but I suddenly remember that I am insanely afraid of dead goldfish. I'm not sure where it stems from and perhaps I'm better off not knowing but if that fish ever decides to float upside down in a dead-like manner I might have to move.

This coming Saturday is the first year anniversary of the war on Iraq. Whatever you may think of this war and the people who have been sent there to fight it, there is an opportunity to hear Noam Chomsky speak at the Peace Flame Park for the Vancouver Anti-War Coalition. I wish I was able to go. I have never heard him speak live but I admire his writing and all the interviews I have had the pleasure of catching on radio and TV.

Speaking of Noam Chomsky, after my usual dose of reality TV tonight I am seriously thinking of halting my television viewing altogether. I am certain I will be able to catch up on news through the internet, radio and newspapers. Yet, I have a fascination with this type of television. I got a little giddy this evening knowing that would be able to watch America's Next Top Model. I love The Apprentice and although I am not really into Survivor anymore, I enjoy the odd episode when I catch one.

Nevertheless, I felt dirty tonight as I watched Shandi have a painfully private moment with her boyfriend. I know, I know, she's on a reality television show, she's asking for it. I still felt terrible. She was crying on the phone, hiding from the cameras behind a skimpy bamboo chair while dealing with a devastating and confusing moment in her life.

yuck! yuck! yuck! Can I get over my guilt in order to watch the season finale? Will Yolanda realize her dream of working with fine European fashion? Will Mercedes reveal her peppy haute couture soul? Will Shandi overcome her apparently humble Walgreen's beginnings and emerge as a "Shandified" fashion icon?

Oh my, I need a support group. I'm hooked.

I have always had a fascination with Edward Gorey. His stories and illustrations of death and dread are hilarious.

I bookmark and visit many different Gorey type sites on the net, such as the devout dolls of Sara Lanzillotta, Tim Burton or the odd little Quizilla quiz revealing which Gorey book or death you are. If I ever get over to the east coast of the US I will try my best to visit Elephant House and see how someone so interesting and creative lived.

I don't know why I am so interested in it all. I remember it started with a copy of a Gorey illustrated Rumplestiltskin when I was quite small. Although I read some pretty odd books in my youth, the art in this particular one sent excited chills up my spine.

I think it would be safe to say I find witty, morbid humour amusing.

I have a pretty nice collection of Alice in Wonderland books that I started many years ago. Any other books I am interested for this group are now usually way out of my price league so I thought that perhaps I could start collecting Edward Gorey. Alas, I have discovered that they are very popular as well. I'm not surprised. Still, there is a place to start - as long as I can find the room here.

Anyone want a 1st edition, HC of James Dickey's Deliverance?

No, forget that, I want to keep that one too.

Franklin and I ran into a woman I used to work with this morning. She is such an animated talker that I was able to have a whole 5 minute conversation with her without Franklin starting to squirm and complain. He just watched her, fascinated.

So, for anyone else out there who might stop us on the street - if you want a conversation out of me these days, that is longer than 10 seconds, you gotta jump around and wave your arms.
Must keep the kid entertained.

After an outing at the beach and the park chasing seagulls (who, I think, enjoyed Franklin's pursuit because all they did was run in circles on the ground - just out of his reach. They only flew away after he lost interest) we started our trek home and we passed a church bulletin board that said,

"What would you do differently if this was your last day?"

I started to cry. I actually started to cry on the swings before that, as Franklin and I hung there and I sang him my strange, wordless Enya-like song we have together (I, by no means, sing like Enya - just to be clear). All these tears because today is our last day together. My lay-off has been cut short because there is a new computer system in the bookstore and they need me there sooner than later. The money will be good of course - and Franklin adores his daycare, I think he misses other children quite a bit.
Nevertheless, I will miss him and our time together. Before this lay-off started I was starting to think perhaps he didn't really need me there every lunch hour. I think I do need to be there, for both of us. We have secret head kisses, certain songs that make us smile, certain parts of playgrounds that we run to. It's all so much fun to be with him.
I really envy those daycare workers.

I wanted to post about how wonderful our outing was this morning. Franklin and I went to the Crystal Gardens Conservatory. He loves it there. The lemurs, the flamingos, the parrots, the snakes, the butterflies.... He reads about all of these animals in books and it is nice to be able to see them in real life, however sad it is to see any animal in captivity. I was also going to tell everyone who has a toddler in Victoria (all, like, 4 of you I think) to check the place out before it closes this year.

However, I retract that - unless you heed my warning to stay away from the greedy little brown kiwi that roams free on the ground. Him, and his long skinny beak, hopped onto the bench next to the koi pond and just as Franklin leaned over to say, "Hullo Bird!", he reached in and pinched my son on the chin. We didn't have food, we weren't trying to pet him, we were definitely not chasing him. It's not like we were one of those idiotic families that smears honey on their child's face to get a great picture of a bear licking it off*...

So, you're warned - if you didn't know already. The bird's a little aggressive, but the gardens are nice.

I have also found that I possess the potential to be one snarly mother. I didn't know that the bird made actual contact with Franklin. His lip quivered a bit but there were no tears and we were on our way out so I picked him up, we said our good-byes to the favoured flamingos, and left. It wasn't until we were across the street in the coffee shop, enjoying our zucchini bread and americano (Franklin loves that caffeine buzz), that I noticed the mark left on his chin.

Ooooh, the bit of rage that stirred inside me! - but then, it died down quite quickly. I mean, really...

1. There is no flesh wound
2. Franklin's not going to develop any Hitchcock type phobias from it
3. The garden's probably closing soon and who knows were the bird is heading to

- not a big deal, just big enough to subject you to a rant on my weblog.
Yup.

* Incidentally, as I was looking for a link to this urban myth, I only found little excerpts that it was only that, a myth - but there are waaay too many porn sites about bears and honey, and you can go look for that yourself. I'm not linking it for you.

Instead, I'll give you a link to all the apparent dangers in Canada, including mental patients...

When D and I first found out we were having a boy I started to think about all the things I could teach my budding little feminist son. I was eager to raise someone who would see an equal distribution of chores around our home. D is a lot better cook than me and makes most of the meals and he will do the laundry and scrub the floors without a hesitation of whose role it is. Our child would see me change the tail light in the car and fix broken furniture.

I had visions of little Franklin reading about flowers and fairies as well as turtles and mud puddles. There would be no predominance of boys toys in the house. In fact, I would buy him all the dolls he desired and if he wanted to dress up in my slips and try on makeup I would encourage him to do his own thing.

Try as I did to be as ambivalent as possible in terms of his gender, he is definitely leaning heavily toward the realm of mighty machinery, a stereotypical boys area of joy.
Its not that I don't see little girls interested in construction vehicles and fire engines, its just that I was welcome to Franklin's potential interest in stereotypical feminine toys as well. He has a cute little doll that he baths with but he tends to squish the head so the water comes squirting out of its ears instead of rocking it gently and washing its different body parts. Down under the water, squish, pull it back up, squish, weeeeeee! fun! It might as well be a sponge or a rubber ball.

As well, for all my own personal enjoyment of watching construction vehicles move massive amounts of dirt and rocks around, I was never really interested in knowing what all the different types of machines were.

Now I know.

There are the regular dump trucks and bulldozers, but would you be able to point out a mini loader as opposed to a skid steer? How about a scaper or an excavator? The education certainly doesn't end at construction vehicles...
I now know about treaded tractors, balers, harvesters, brush rigs, and the intricate differences between an airport fire truck, an aerial ladder truck and a typical fire engine.

All, funny enough, quite fascinating.

So it looks like I can really project my feelings well. I don't think Franklin is about to sprout his first tooth anytime soon. In fact, I think the "Niah Niah Niah" sound is his new word for the week. He was doing it half asleep last night in his crib.



Yes! You read right! In his crib!!!



We got him to sleep from 7:30pm to 2:00am in that cage, I mean crib! Of course, it required us to visit him and sooth him to sleep every hour or so but there was real sleep in between! That is progress! I am very impressed with us parents!



and, ahem, D and I got to have some of our own time.



so nice.

I'm sick today. Franklin has been sick for a couple of days now. We are sick together, at home and going nuts.

I should be sleeping. I have never really got the hang of sleeping in the middle of the day. Franklin's sleeping, the cat's sleeping. I'm blogging and then heading to my book to investigate the intricacies of regulating agencies for the federal government.

No, that will not put me to sleep.

I just finished reading ilonina is random. The whole post brings back so many memories. Although I don't think I will ever buy myself a bright pink silver-sequined cowboy hat (but congratulations if you would), I certainly have gone through the myriad of self definitions (and, of course, deceptions).
I remember in my early twenties, boring a friend to death, sitting in Margaret Park, Budapest. On and on I pondered about how the way people choose to see themselves will in turn help to define their choices in life... and what if those choices are not what other people see you as and expect, and what if those choices are what people see you as but don't agree with your subsequent choices, and what if these people start to not matter to you and your choices at all, and what happens when you have many different choices in front of you and you want to invite all of them into your life - how do you go about doing it, and what do all these choices really mean, and how real are any of these choices, what are influencing the choices? my past? my environment? my conception of the future? and what is the signifcance of not choosing, or choosing, or choosing and then changing your mind - and can I really ever change my mind? All of these questions were then examined at length using too many examples of academic theory and my limited but sordid ex partner experiences. Jeez, I have to stop, I could go on forever and no one needs that, it's painful to realize I put her through it once.

I'm sure my friend was just listening to the Reggae band and had fully blocked me out at this point. In fact, I think she may have blocked me out about a month before that point. She is such a good friend. I think she knew I just had to think out loud.

Actually, I miss you J. I really miss you a lot. Maybe it's the cold, the empty stomach, or I just need a nap, but I'm tearing up. I really miss you.

I have a feeling that poor Franklin is teething.

He keeps knawing on his fingers in a desperate kind of way, making sounds like, "Niah Niah Niah". His facial expressions make my mouth sore and he looks at me like he's asking me to fix it... why can't you fix this?... Mama! What's gong on?!?!
- of course, this might be all my projections... you think?

He is usually such a happy baby. I feel so sorry for him. Teething can't be fun. I want to help him out as much as I can but all I can do is hold him and snuggle and hope this passes soon.

So a while back I signed up for Swappingtons and traded two vinyl's, "Sefronia" by Tim Buckley and "The Sting Soundtrack" - two records that I will never listen to. Off they went and I gained some valuable points in order to receive...

By the way.... if you sign up and say that dirtyolive referred you I will get some extra points in order to trade for even more great stuff like some Franklin the Turtle books for Franklin!

Whew, back at home and getting back into a groove. Traveling with a toddler is a completely different ball game than travelling with an infant and travelling with no children isn't even a sport in comparison.

We had fun but it was exhausting. Unfortunately, Franklin chooses to do major teething every time we travel. The drool was incredible and he was stuffing his hands in his mouth like crazy! Poor guy. Fortunately, D's parents are very understanding and are more than willing to provide anything to soothe Franklin's gums. He was treated to popsicles, Tylenol, yogurt sticks, Tylenol, Fantasyland train ride, Tylenol...
Of course, by the last day, the drooling stopped. No teeth were cut so I suppose they have decided to lay dormant for awhile - probably to emerge for the big Saab-o-rama in May. Hooray! Perhaps each one of my brothers and my sister will want to take him for a day... if so, we could be in for a relaxing time. Imagine!

The assignment went pretty well. I stopped off at the library for awhile and printed off some websites. All in all, the course I'm doing is going quite well. I used to be so nervous taking courses with so much reality based information comprehension. During my English and Political Science degree I would take as many theory courses as possible. I loved studying post-modernism, post-colonialism, globalization, Marx, Mills, Aristotle, and on and on and on...

Sometimes I would hide behind the theory so as not to make any definite statements on anything. I would think it was oh so clever to say that really, you can't make any definite statements on anything, and yes, the world certainly isn't black and white but it has taken me a bit of a time to understand that even though theory is vital, everyone has to be able to explain themselves and back up their opinions in some concrete way, if they want to make a point that is - which generally I was afraid to do before, which I seem to be better at now, I think, although perhaps this isn't the best example...

ahem