Dirty Olive.net

So, what have I been up to lately?

2008-08-28T08:21:32Z

The Wizard of Oz
Originally uploaded by twm1340

Ah yes.
Blog

The bloggy blog-ditty blog blog blog

Monday I took my children to the dentist. Why? Well, because Franklin’s camps are over and I wanted to show him what a good time with Mom means!

Come look at Mom’s gingivitis!
Guess what you’ll look like in a dentist chair if you only floss for the two weeks prior to your appointment. Yes! That crappy!
Woooohooooooooo!

But wait! Don’t run!
Dentists are fun! Don’t be scared!

I swear, I didn’t think the cleaning was really going to happen. Nevertheless, I showed up bright and early. I was totally game. The receptionist told me that she lurved babies and that my son was oh so cute the last time he was in and really it was allgoingtobeokaysoseeyouonMondaybye!!!
So, of course, I wanted to test her.

I figure that when people tell me to bring their kids to the dentist, cocktail party, café, poetry reading, jam session, sex toy/Tupperware evening I try to take them up on it as often as possible because if I can’t have fun, I might as well act as a strong form of birth control.

So there I was, laying back in the chair while answering Star Wars questions and breastfeeding as a very talkative dental hygienist tried to scrap my teeth.

To be fair, the receptionist read Franklin Scooby-Do at the top of her lungs for about half of the visit and Eliza either sat on my stomach or did the vertical breastfeeding manoeuvre. Both kids were adequately entertained – read: they were silent. All in all, it was a good visit. I think the young lady was exhausted by the time we left but she’s a lot more knowledgeable not only about Star Wars Lego but also about our friends in Japan, how to swim in a lifejacket, and what happens with you place your bird feeder too close to your patio windows.

For our next trip, I promised to take Franklin to a more exciting place. So far, my record of outings has included opening a bank account and watching his mother get her teeth cleaned so I’m totally going to make up for it tomorrow. We’re going to Blood and Guts at Beaver Lake Regional Park.

They’ve got pointy teeth and sharp claws, and they don’t eat tofu! The predators of the forest are fascinating and beautiful. Drop by to learn more about animals that make their living by eating meat. Cougars and owls and bears – oh my

Yeah, there are about three things in that little snippet that make me cringe. It’s a horrible write up. Do people get paid to write that? Seriously?

Also, before I bugger off to sleep I just want to mention one last thing.

Eliza?
Sleeps through the night.

Yup.

(I probably just jinxed it but, whatever.)

Where did the time go?

2008-08-22T06:22:09Z

Birthday Photo
Originally uploaded by AdaSaab

This summer seems to be coming to an end all of sudden. Soon I will be taking Franklin to Grade One. A Big Kids School. A place where there will be more than 7 kids in his class. A place where there will be times that kids will be able to say things and do things and they will not be under constant surveillance by three of four teachers. A place where he could be picked on or worse… pick on others.

I’m scared.
I’m not sure that he’s all that scared though. He talks about how much he is looking forward to it most of the time. Other times he asks me if there are bullies at the school. When I tell him that schools have a No Bullies Allowed rule now I feel like I’m lying. I want to say that there will probably be some real doozies there but that I’m sure he can handle it because he’s a friendly guy who likes people.

What?
I don’t know.

I have a thing with people getting picked on. I used to hang around with kids only because they were the ones getting picked on at school. I’d have absolutely nothing in common with them and we would have nothing to say but there I would be, standing next to them… pretending to be their friend until I lost my concentration and went to join someone else to put dandelions up my nose.

I am so certain you wanted to be my friend in school, eh?
I was a freak.

Despite the worried thoughts of Franklin going to school in a few weeks, we have had a wonderful summer. I’ve taught him a few things that I think he will be grateful for in the future. Things like:

· Just because someone is mad at you, doesn’t mean they don’t like you
· People can be grumpy one minute and get over it soon afterwards, just give them some time (with their coffee and an internet connection)
· Whining about your lego house coming apart doesn’t mean anyone is going to fix it for you but you
· When someone says they are going to dunk you underwater, they mean it so take a breath and close your mouth

It has been a summer of a lot of great conversations between the two of us. Most of them taking place on long walks or over breakfast and lunch. It has also been a bit of a summer of hard knocks. I have realized lately that we rarely ever yelled at Franklin before (as in before Eliza - insert ominous music here). In fact, he hardly ever made me mad. Frustrated, yes (of course!), but I made sure that I could see his side of the situation and then understand where he was coming from in situations.

What a crock of shit.
This is not how the world works. We get tired. We get busy. We have other needs to place before him at times. We even get irrational and downright grumpy. We spent so much time being the parents we saw in our professional caregivers (the ones with a full lunch hour, two 15 minute breaks and a union) that we weren’t being human.

Welcome to human, my son.

Your mother loves you. She also gets so angry that she leaves the room and sits on the toilet with your sister so that she can calm down. And that’s all okay.

Hi

2008-08-17T07:03:02Z

Breast-feeding in a wind storm
Originally uploaded by AdaSaab

I bet you thought after that little three-day stretch last week that I was going to posting regular again.

HA! Fooled you.

What me? Write on a regular basis when I have proposals for money to write that I have NO IDEA how to write? When I have children to ~~drop off at sports camps~~ parent all day? When I have nipples that won’t cooperate no matter what kind of herbal hippie concoction I dream up to prevent mastitis?

Ah yes.
If you were to venture back in my archives to a time when I was breastfeeding Franklin you would find that I was plagued with Mastitis about 4 or 5 times during his infancy. It all stopped by the time he was 4 months old though.

Eliza is 5 months old.
I totally thought I was in the clear. I have got it once quite badly when my mother-in-law was here (awful timing as I’m sure she thought she was the cause of it AND SHE WASN’T – in cause your reading this, you-know-who).

Since then? Twice
Plugged Ducts are the culprit

I’ve had Mastitis a total of about 7 times. To be completely accurate, I’m not sure how many times I got it with Franklin. In fact, it could have plausibly been one large and long case of mastitis torture. My breasts are my badges of courage. My breasts are symbols of what I believe in and my breasts show how incredibly stubborn I am.
My breasts are haggard and tired and totally not erotic.
At least, that’s how I’m feeling.

But then I wake up at 6am and Eliza’s hungry. The house is quiet and I sit in the rocking chair that my mother used to breastfeed all 5 of her children and that I breastfed Franklin in. I nurse Eliza while I look out the window and watch the sun rise…

and I think, “My breasts are beautiful.”

The garden – it pains me.

2008-08-13T07:04:07Z

I had such high hopes this year for my beautiful little garden. We’ve moved about a block away from the site and I thought that nothing could prevent me from caring for it each and every day – almost like it was in my back yard.

Well, “nothing” turned out to be entertaining two children, miles apart in age and activity, for the summer.

First, there was the winter kale:

I wasn’t sure what it was so I asked anyone on flickr for identification. I couldn’t see the little buggers moving so I thought it was indeed Cabbage Worms and since my kale had basically been stripped in the span on one week, out they came.

A tad too dramatic? Perhaps.
However, gardening has become quite emotional for me. The community garden and my little backyard spot are my favourite places to be. When I come home from the garden, even if the trip has been a gong show of simultaneous breast-feeding, watering, weeding and thinning with a whole lot of “Can we go NOW?” thrown in, I still feel refreshed and calm.

This doesn't even begin to explain just how much gardening affects me. It’s not enough that it is a hobby. I want to study it for the rest of my life. I want to place community gardens everywhere possible. I want people to know how special it is to grow their own tomatoes, carrots, beans… I want children to understand how much water it takes to grow food. I want society to realize how important bees are to our existence.

I want
I want
I want

I want the Wooley Aphids to stop eating my brussel sprouts!

and how about my sad artichokes!

This is The Summer of Aphids.

I wonder if I was able to get there on a daily basis, if I would still be having this problem. Who knows. Swimming lessons have taken precedent over our morning walk to the garden. Sometimes I try to go after dark but this hardly happens. I am, as they say, on a short leash. The last few times I've left the house to the garden while there was still light outside, I was called back to a screaming baby.

The end of the day spells almost constant breastfeeding. Bring on the solids!

Ah, it's all good. If we still lived across the city, I would have had to give up on this garden so I'm happy with what I have been able to do. We ate endive salad tonight. Our squash is growing well. Carrots are plentiful. We have a bell pepper or two. The yellow beans are turning... yellow. The pole beans are climbing. The strawberries were excellent.

I’m going back there tomorrow armed with a spray bottle of dish detergent and water and I hope to make those brussel sprouts too slippery for those guys.

Wish me luck!
If anyone else has any more advice on how to get rid of these aphids, please let me know. Until then, it’s the ladybugs, the yellow jackets and me.

FYI - we had salmon, not spam

2008-08-07T07:39:22Z

Spam-Dandy
Originally uploaded by Miss Retro Modern

Okay – blogs are a little like time capsule. If I had all of my archives online, mine would be one as well. The fact that a good chunk of my life that I care to share with the world-wide-web crowd is here means that I am able to go back and see where I was a certain times in my life.

Actually, even though there is A LOT that I don’t publish (even more since I’ve come back), the entries are still memory triggers. I can clearly remember writing certain things and what was happening in the background - what I wasn’t writing about.

It is for this reason that I need to record something today. This doesn’t happen all that often and the very fact that I’ve had a day like today needs to be remembered.

This morning, Franklin and I played until 9am – meaning, Eliza slept in until 9-freaking-am. If she were an only child, this would mean that I would have had an amazing amount of sleep but she’s not and instead, this means I got to spend some wonderful time with my son (who woke up at 7am).

We ate breakfast together.
Eliza woke up.
We got ready for swimming lessons and while walking to the pool we decided on the mantra (we are learning about Hinduism right now) “I can swim”. I think it is doing a good job (and by that I mean the mantra, I'm not sure he's absorbing everything about Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva but it's a start).

I find it interesting just how much of my time ski racing has come into play while I’m parenting. I’m not sure if this is a good thing but I tend to do a lot of the same things with Franklin that my coaches did with me – especially after a session with a sports psychologist.
(Please, let you not be screwed up, Franklin. I’m just going with what I know.)

After swimming lessons we went home, ate lunch and laid Eliza down for a nap. (She also napped at the pool in the wrap, which made sitting by an outdoor pool really quite relaxing).

Franklin and I then settled down and read a story.
Then we napped.
Then I woke up and for 15 minutes, I had two kids asleep. (!!!)

So, I stared out the window at our pumpkin plants and, in the process, found our first ovary!

After both children woke up we went to a swim shop and bought a new pair of shorts for Franklin – ON SALE (oooh, thrifty!). We wandered through the rest of the store and finally came home.

Eliza napped again.
Franklin played and watched me make dinner.
Dickson came home.
We ate at 6pm sharp. (!!!!)
Franklin had a bath.
I left Dix and Franklin at home while Eliza and I walked to the garden.
Eliza played on the grass and in my arms while I weeded and took photos of aphids (more on that sad story later).

I know what you're thinking; "Big Hairy Deal, Ada". Probably every single one of you reading this does this every day.

Every. Single. Day.
However, this doesn’t happen to me. I don’t work like this. We always seem to fly by the seat of our pants and I always think that jumbling to bed at night only to start the tumble the next morning is normal.

Can I do this every day?
To tell you the truth, I hope not. It seems.... what... too predictable? Nevertheless, I’m still impressed. I managed to eke out a pretty ordinary day. It’s a strange feeling, this.

2008-08-06T07:14:13Z

Black Hole Sun, originally uploaded by lightgazer (will return someday).

Sailing isn’t going to happen. We actually didn’t make it off the wait list. I thought it was going to happen and then, crash – no sailing. I’m a little sad about this if only because I grew up in Northern BC. We didn’t sail. Our summer camps consisted of making sure we didn’t have leeches on our legs after coming from the lake and swatting the mosquitoes the size of eyeballs once they had collected enough blood to make them really SPLAT on our friend’s arms.

Sailing just seemed like so much fun. Anything that has to do with the ocean seems like such a treat for Dickson and I. Even going down for a walk on Dallas Road brings on sigh after sigh about how lucky we are to live in a place so beautiful. People come from all over the world to see our little corner and of all the places I’ve travelled to this is truly the most beautiful.

So, it’s with this appreciation that we look on Franklin’s protests.

“The O-C-E-A-N… Why do we have to go there?”

It is hard to see how good you have it when you don’t know anything different. The ocean is practically in his backyard and he thinks this is a normal everyday thing. Just recently, however, he’s been easier to get to the beach. We have moved to by a particular beach that he likes and so we only have to ask him once (okay, maybe twice) and he’s game.

Phew.

However…. What to do in place of Sailing Camp? I’m clearly going to have to find something because you know what we did today after swimming? He opened his own bank account.

Yes. The Camp of Mom is just riveting.

That bird was sooo fake

2008-08-05T06:55:02Z

Julie Andrews as Mary Poppins
Originally uploaded by greatspacecoaster15

What is this I see before me?
An empty screen and it is not 11:45pm and I’m not trying desperately to keep my eyes open? Free moment?

Wow!

Yes, the kitchen table looks like I’m a university student studying for exams in finger painting and sand art and I have to start grilling soon or we’ll be eating at 7pm again but hell! It’s quiet! I’m gonna write something!

edit: notice that I have had to save it and finish it off later this evening because I’m wasting all this time babbling about stupid free time

So? Franklin is still sad. He refuses to let us delete any of the movies of him and his friend off of the flip so that he can watch them by himself. We have saved them to the computer but he wants the flip as he can curl up and watch it himself.
Dramatic and yet, so sad.

I also miss his friend and all the fun they had together.
I have cried “uncle” on the Entertaining a 5-year-old for Two Months fiasco. He’s bored. I blamed myself until I realized that I NEVER SAID I WAS A GOOD MOTHER and then promptly signed him up for weeklong summer camps.

This week is swimming lessons.
After that? Sailing.
And then? Pottery.

Yup, that’ll give us one week before school starts and we will love each other until we are hiding in our separate corners again.

Relax – the camps are only a couple of hours long each weekday.
He needs to run like the dickens and I can’t chase him with a wee one strapped to me – not for too long anyway (and not that I haven’t tried and Eliza doesn’t think it’s hilarious).

I also blame the Kindergarten and his care for the last 4 years. They constantly kept him stimulated. Here he is now, at home with me everyday, and he’s wondering where the other children, the variety of games, puzzles, art supplies and jungle gym is…

Where’s the yoga instructor?
Where is the group to teach me how to build a cob house?
Are we going to make sushi today? – with an expert?
Art Gallery adventure?
A measly flipp’n water park?

Come On, Mom!

Two weeks ago, I was thinking, my Mom did this! With 5 kids! But then I thought… 5 kids entertain themselves. One 5-year-old and one 5 month old don’t exactly jive – yet. I’m thinking that they might at some point, right?

And really? I must stop thinking along those lines – “but my Mom did this” and “my Mom did that” because from what I remember? My Mom, as amazing as she is, wasn’t Mary Poppins. My selective comparison to my mother with a carpetbag and a spoon full of sugar are unrealistic no matter whose Mom I’m talking about.

We’ve recently met another family with 4 children - 4 glorious, beautiful children. I’ve had a few conversations now with the mother of this family and while I would freely admit to being okay with more children previously, I am even more okay with it now.

Except for a few details like… money, I’m 35 on the 8th, money, Dickson is 7 years older than I am, money, we feel still so far from family and…. Money.

Never mind that I don’t have a carpetbag.

Really, really sad

2008-07-24T07:12:04Z

I’m starting this post tonight because if I don’t, I won’t write again for a few weeks. I’m not writing much. I know. There may be about a dozen reasons for this, I’m not sure, but I do know that I am not the person who started this blog so long time ago. That doesn’t matter though, what the hell. Of course I’m not the same person.

Reading old archives is horrible though.
Boooorrrring.

Speaking of archives, I’m missing a huge chunk – have you noticed? Yeah. They are missing out there in cyberspace and my host has a copy of them but won’t post them up unless I give her money because she’ll have to do it manually. So I think, jeez, finally a do-it-yourself project I can… Do. My. Self. Give me the posts. I’ll post them.

However, have I emailed her to tell her this? No.
Have I paid my tuition to the university for the last three courses I’ve taken? No.
Have I got back to the federal government about our 2007 tax return? No.

Things are crappy here in our home. My life seems to be upside down and I am not the one who is actually going through any real trauma. I’m such a pussy of a mother. Seriously.

Franklin’s best friend is moving to Japan on Friday. That is in two days. Just writing this has my stomach in knots like that time the Love of My Life At Twenty-Two told me he wanted to break-up. My heart physically hurt and for once in my life, I wasn’t fascinated with the fact that I was feeling emotion. I was just sad. Really, really sad.

Tonight, I am sad.
Really, really sad.

Franklin screamed at an adult today - his friend's mother. He was hurt. He wanted his friend to stay and she had come to pick him up earlier than he expected. He’s confused and doesn’t know what to do with how he feels right now, I know. Still, this wasn't okay. It was utter chaos and I had to keep my shit together to talk him off of hysterical mountain while getting Eliza to bed for her nap and helping his friend and his three year old sister out the door.

I want to help Franklin so much but sometimes I feel that we are so fucking connected that I am more harm to him than anything else. What I damn fine dork of a mother I make. I just want to hang out and be sad with him. I can’t think of anything else to say other than, "this sucks, man".

Yeah. I know.
I should teach parenting classes, write a book, film late night infomercials of myself talking on a stage with a face mic and a big power point projector.

Dickson is confused, I think. Strange thing is, he went through this. He moved away from his best friend at the same age that Franklin is right now. He knows what a big deal this is - five years old and watching a piece of you leave your world. Maybe he knows and therefore is aware that life can go on. He said tonight that things will get better. I know this. I do. But right now? Right now, things are horrible and I can't fix any of it. Life will go on but for me, Franklin has had one too many things change in his life and... and...

I'm the Mom! I'm supposed to keep everything together, right?
Wow. I sound like I'm six-bloody-teen years old.

I don’t remember having a best friend that I really connected with at Franklin’s age. To tell you the truth, until I met my friend, Joelle, I didn't connect with really anyone. I watch Franklin and this other boy and wonder how two children can any more similar. They are both so sensitive and creative and scared and amazed at the world. They worry about the same things. They are proud of the same things…

Earlier this month, Franklin wet his bed. It happens. Whatever. Franklin wasn’t concerned. His friend came over to play and about an hour in I hear,

“Hey! I wet my bed last night!”

“Yeah? Me too!”

And then returned to playing like they had just talked about the weather.

See?
Really, really sad.

Now I'm Taking it too far and Starting to Bore you

2008-07-15T05:28:10Z

Drool
Originally uploaded by iamilk

So I was thinking about how we were going to further de-chemical our home as I was wiping my daughter’s butt for the third time this morning (she is a champion pooper and if I were wise, I would figure out when she is finished her entire load but alas, I am not) and I realized that although I use cloth diapers, they are cotton – regular cotton, not organic cotton.

Cotton is everywhere but the farming for the material is so hard on the environment. It’s popularity and the competition among producers has increased the use of pesticides so much that cotton is the most pesticide-dependent crop in the world – it accounts for 25% of all pesticide use. The impact this makes on our environment and our health is horrible. One adult T-shirt made with conventional cotton requires ¼ lbs of harmful chemicals.

Add to this are the dyes used in fabric. Coloured dyes, even with organically grown cotton, are still a problem. These are also toxic chemicals and their use and disposal are also harming our health and the environment. When I think of how much Eliza sucks on fabric I cringe to think of what she could be picking up. We received one of these dolls as a baby gift and I bought an organically dyed wrap that she sucks on while I walk with her but her bibs? Her blankets? Naturally coloured cotton is harder to come by but much more important in terms of babies, in my opinion, than adults due to the amount of time they spend sucking and getting their mouths, chins and necks washed.

Now, I’m not about to run out and buy a whole new set of cloth diapers, sheets, and clothing. I am not insane. However, it got me thinking. Organic cotton is all fine and good but for the majority of the population, cloth diapers are enough of an investment. Add organic to the bill and we are talking serious cash. The same goes for organic bed sheets, organic mattresses and organic clothing. As adults, wearing organic is a lot more economical. We don’t tend to grow. For children – jebus! I already need to resort to hand-me downs and thrift stores!

So, I have found an alternative – recycled cotton. I can’t always buy organic cotton but I won’t support pesticide production by purchasing new cotton. Of course, I was basically boycotting new cotton by necessity beforehand. However, the bottom line for many processes to change is demand. Manufacturers will do what consumers dictate, right? I’m hoping those who can buy organically will and those who can’t will as least buy reconstructed, recycled or just plain used cotton until things are more affordable. In the meantime, I will also be changing Eliza’s bibs – her favourite chew toy at the moment - as it is readily available and easily grasped. Anyone have a source to recommend?

(All my statistics and facts came from the Organic Trade Association website)

Alternatives

2008-07-11T06:48:12Z

Shampoo-less
Originally uploaded by AdaSaab

To the right is a photo of me after a week or so of shampooing my hair with baking soda. I have to say, there is very little difference between using a cleansing shampoo and using baking soda. Perhaps there will be a honeymoon period? I guess there is only one way to find out. Some people I know who do this tend to mix up just using water and brushing their hair (100 strokes each side). They use the soda mixture only sporatically. This prevents the build-up, apparently. We’ll see.

There are about 6 or 7 I-told-you-so’s coming to me after this post goes out. I know too many people who no longer use shampoo. I had always thought I would break out. I always break out when things get too oily. I had just assumed that this would also take an oily period and while I am working and seeing students on a regular basis, I’m not all that interested in looking… oily.

This isn’t oily (and I'm not seeing students while on maternity leave).
In fact, the entire family is now using baking soda. Well, the two of us that were actually using shampoo. I was the one who used it on a regular basis, Franklin was only once a week, Dickson has hair too curly for shampoo and Eliza is only 4 months old and not using anything, really.

So that’s the shampoo issue. We are officially off shampoo.

In another area of my life, I feel like we may have come across a major discovery. Baking soda shampoo is great, don’t get me wrong, but pain management without drugs?

Amazing.

Eliza’s second round of immunizations were this week. I was dreading them. For all the chubbiness of her thighs, she was in so much pain the first time that I was sobbing along with her. Babies cry when four needles are stuck into their legs, I get that and this isn’t the problem. It was her ability to get over the initial pain that was so extremely difficult. Franklin’s skinny little legs didn’t cause him as much harm as her first dose of shots (and let me tell you, Franklin’s not one to hold back in the discomfort arena).

So yes.
I’m a firm believer in immunizations. I can have the debates with any of you if you wish. Many people I know don’t immunize. When the subject comes up and people want to try to convert me I am always game. We immunize our children. Deal with it.

However, the pain? So hard!
But! Get this! My father, the man whose heart is made of soft gooshy gold jello pudding sent me this article on pain management a few weeks ago. It’s hard to get through. I had to read it several times and then ask him a few questions later. I was still sceptical when the dreaded day came around but Dickson was gung-ho so I figured, what’s the harm in trying? I certainly wasn’t looking forward to either other scenario – watch her scream for 10 minutes or numb her down with Tylenol. The research was sound and if it worked for neo-natal infants… well, enough with the justifications, on with the show...

My father, Dickson, Franklin, Eliza and I crammed into the public health nurse office armed with a solution of sugar water and a spoon (we like to do things in groups). We brought along the article to show the nurse but hell, this is Victoria. She was all, “whatev, man, sounds cool”.

Before the shots, my father spoon-fed the sugar solution to Eliza (who, by the way thought she had won the sugar lottery) and the a few minutes later… the needles. She cried. Yes. It didn’t stop all the pain. However, neither does the Tylenol. She didn’t shake in fear though. She stopped crying by the time we got to the waiting room as well. She handled it so much better.

Now! I know what you’re thinking!
Who knows really why she was better this time, right? It could have been the extra chubbiness she has added to her body (she now weighs 14 lbs!), it could have been the fact that her brother was there or it could have been that she feels more secure in the world than she did two months ago. We thought that her quick recovery could also have been due to the fact that the sugar was given to her a bit too late. Perhaps the effects kicked in only after the immunizations?

Whatever the case, I will try it again next time as well. What I’m most impressed with is that there are people out there washing their hair with baking soda because they want an alternative to what we are expected to buy. As well, there are medical researchers (and my parents) out there giving sugar water to babies because they also want an alternative to what we are expected to use.

Edit: Seems that you will need to create a (free) account in order to see the article. Sorry, I forgot about that. Here's the holy terror of an abstract for those not interested in a subscription to a medical journal:

OBJECTIVE: The purpose of this work was to evaluate the analgesic properties of oral sucrose during routine immunizations in infants at 2 and 4 months of age. PATIENTS AND METHODS: A prospective, randomized, placebo-controlled clinical trial was conducted at a pediatric ambulatory care clinic. One-hundred healthy term infants scheduled to receive routine immunizations were recruited, randomly stratified into 2- or 4-month study groups, and further randomly assigned to receive 24% oral sucrose and pacifier or the sterile water control solution. The study preparations were administered 2 minutes before the combined diphtheria-tetanus-acellular pertussis, inactivated polio vaccine, and hepatitis B vaccine. Haemophilus influenzae type b vaccine was administered 3 minutes after the combined injection, followed by the pneumococcal conjugate vaccine, 2 minutes after the H. influenzae type b injection. The University of Wisconsin Children's Hospital Pain Scale measured serial acute pain responses for the treatment and control groups at baseline and 2, 5, 7, and 9 minutes after solution administration. Repeated-measures analysis of variance examined between-group differences and within-subject variability of treatment effect on overall pain scores. RESULTS: Two- and 4-month-old infants receiving oral sucrose (n = 38) displayed reductions in pain scores 2 minutes after solution administration compared with 2- and 4-month-old infants in the placebo group (n = 45). Between-group comparisons for the oral sucrose and placebo groups showed lower pain responses at 5, 7, and 9 minutes after solution administration. The oral sucrose and placebo groups demonstrated their highest mean pain score at 7 minutes, with a mean pain score of 3.8 and 4.8, respectively. At 9 minutes, the placebo group had a mean pain score of 2.91 whereas the mean pain score for the oral sucrose group returned to near baseline, reflecting a 78.5% difference in mean pain score (oral sucrose - placebo) relative to the placebo mean. CONCLUSIONS: Oral sucrose is an effective, easy-to-administer, short-acting analgesic for use during routine immunizations.

I know. Crazy vocab.

Chemical World

2008-07-04T08:12:41Z

Self portrait with East German / Soviet respirator
Originally uploaded by macspite

I wonder if I’m just out of the blogger mode but it seems that the nights that I have the time and the space to write a post has me often sitting here wondering what to write about. I used to have no trouble with finding things to write.

Now I'm realizing that I rarely ever sat down with a specific post in mind. In fact, more often than not, I would just start writing. Topics would pop out of my fingers and there it would be, a post. Probably not the most coherent and eloquent post, but I had some semblance of an idea there and a few digression deletions later, I would be heading off to do whatever I used to do with myself when I had one child and… lordy, what did I do with myself?

I think I asked myself that exact question after Franklin was born. What kind of valuable time did I waste before I had a child? I could have been saving the world. I could have had a PhD. Two, even.

Anyway – coulda woulda shoulda.

I’ve been thinking a lot about genetics these days. Franklin seems to have developed an allergic reaction to latex. My father thinks I may be off the mark about this but it has been twice now that my son has opened a new toy and had an allergic reaction much like that described for those allergic to latex.

When plastic is made it usually involves chemicals or other agents to allow the plastic to release from the production molds more easily. Sometimes these are not rinsed properly. Someone I know has mentioned to me that we may want to keep an eye out for potential latex allergies, as sometimes a latex based dust is used in these molds.

My father is allergic to latex and this type of allergy can be genetic. It can also be a sensitivity that can get worse the more exposed you are to latex.

However, genetics aside, I wonder if this kind of allergy and many others that children seem to have been developing more readily is a product of our chemical world. The build-up on their little bodies must be horrendous. At this point, I really wonder how much genetics really play into allergies anymore. I wonder if we are totally redefining what we would traditional see as genetics through our dependence on chemicals in everything we do – from the diapers we put on our babies to the formaldehyde we use to preserve our dead.

Charity has mentioned to me that she is thinking of going shampoo free. We already use environmentally sensitive cleaning agents in our home, eat organic and cloth diaper(ed) both children but I think we can do better. I think I’m going to try and drastically cut back on the chemicals we are exposed to. This isn’t a case of ridding our home of germs and then unwittingly make our children more susceptible to colds and flu when they are out of the house. This is a prevention of chemical build-up that could potentially prevent more allergic responses and perhaps more serious diseases further on in their lives.

Hell, if anything, it will provide entertaining blog fodder for awhile.

Sappy Gardening Crap

2008-06-28T08:03:18Z

I hang out with Eliza a lot.
Really.
In fact, the two of us are pretty much attached to each other. If she's not slurping down a breast milk sandwich or burping said sandwich all over ourselves then she's wrapped to my body and we are walking somewhere.

Notice just then?
When I mentioned burping all over ourselves? Yes, I apparently no longer have my own pronoun. It's not "myself" it is "ourself". Such has been my life for the past few months and I am confident that this will continue for a short while longer.

I don't mind.
I know the above few sentences would lead you to believe that this has been a burden but have you SEEN her ? She's gorgeous. She's fun. She's Eliza. She wraps her chubby little arms around mine and holds on tight. She slurps her hands into her mouth and looks up at me with as much of a smile as she can handle - considering the mouthful she has given herself - and then, because she's opened her mouth to smile and widened her entrance a bit further, she shoves those fists further down her throat and gags.

Too cute.
(I'm sure you are gagging right about now as well except I have a feeling that it is not due to how far your hands can reach into your mouth).

So my point is?
Gardening is slow when I have a three month old baby wrapped to the front of my body. This can be frustrating. The other day, Dickson took her in the wrap while I furiously weeded and sorted out the community plot. It was so satisfying. I kept thanking him as I pulled more and more weeds and straightened rows and made room for more plants. At one point, I was in such glee to finally get to a job I had previously only frowned at while watering upright that I actually farted.

Yes.
This was something I used to only do in bookstores when I knew I had about 6 hours to kill.

Now that the garden is in much better shape, I feel better about its progress. I can see a plan and I look a little more forward to watering it in the mornings. This year I'm planning to try forcing Belgian Endives. We have a crawl space in our new house that could be the perfect environment. I'll keep you posted.

Here's more sappy crap to take with you when you leave this blessed website.

I can't remember who sang this to me when I was a kid - my mother or my Kindergarten teacher with the hair that grew past her ass - but it fills me with such sentimental hippie calmness that I want to move to Lasqueti Island and start an organic farm. I still remember all the words and after a few years of being strapped to me in the garden, so will Eliza.

I can see the four(!) of us - my mother, Thuraya(!), Eliza and myself - stamping out our cob house while tending to our goats and chickpea fields. Sister power. Come into our garden.

Peace.

Critical Mass

2008-06-21T07:34:07Z

Critical Mass - Roma 31 maggio 2008
Originally uploaded by Newbrigand

Recently we moved to a new home closer to my work (when I’m not on maternity leave, mind you), closer to Franklin’s school (living near the friends he sees at school is so so so much better – even if the closest bestest one is moving to Japan in August), closer to the community garden (a billion hoorays for this!). Basically, we walk everywhere now.

Who would have thought that moving to suburbia would free us from the car? Well, I guess our situation has made it so, anyway. Shopping is much closer, the beach is much closer and like I have already mentioned, school and the people we often set up play dates with are much closer. We didn’t really live “downtown” before anyway. We lived “in-between” or "on the bus route" - in the hard to define area where nothing really gets built except for apartment buildings and subsidized housing, really.

One thing Dickson and I have noticed is that when we watch a movie, the volume on the television is 3 notches lower. Everything is quieter here. There are no more sirens screaming down the road and the friendly neighbourhood dumpster divers don’t come all the way up here to gather their goods.

I used to get annoyed when people mentioned things like “idyllic, quiet countryside versus the busy, noisy city” because I love living in a city. Victoria isn’t all that much of a city, I know, and I would move to a bigger centre in a heartbeat – given the right circumstances. I love the action. In the past, I would defend the screaming fire trucks, the excavators and the car alarms. However, there is such a remarkable change now.

I can hear a lawn mower. I can’t remember when the last time I heard a privately owned, hand powered lawn-mower from my own kitchen. These things do make a difference.

I took an environmental aesthetics class once and during one class I remember questioning the unappreciated aspects of city noise – both visual and audio. I defended both graffiti and ambulances. I demanded a world where we become accustomed to the hustle and the bustle. I wanted there to be a world where living so close to each other was okay (even desired) and that people weren’t constantly trying to “arrive” and “feel successful” once they move to the suburbs or the countryside. We can't all afford to live with a green yard and picket fence buffer between us and our neighbours. Thus, we shouldn't set up artificial standards and thrive for this kind of life

However, I get it now. It’s not the hustle and bustle that we need to change. The environmental pollution that is caused by the noise of traffic isn’t what defines a city and it shouldn't need defending. In fact, this is something we need to change – through better traffic planning, bike promotion and communal commuting. Car alarms, fire engines and dump trucks are not a proud badge of city life but a kind of toxin that can slowly wear you out. This is something we need to find a solution for as I’m not so sure that children should be growing up with that kind of beat constantly playing throughout their soundtrack of life.

Children

2008-06-14T07:03:51Z

Gurgle Gurgle
Originally uploaded by AdaSaab

The Act of Opening
Yourself Up
So that Another Being Can
Pass Down the Channel
And out of You
Takes a Woman All the Way
Down
To the Very Deep of Living

- Judy Grahn

The fourth trimester is finished. Eliza is becoming a responsive, smiling, gurgling baby with a personality and a definite presence in our home. Franklin told me the other day that he loves her more than he loves me or Dickson. There are many ways to take that but aside from the curious need to place people in a hierarchy, I’m overwhelmed by his love for her.

My sadness over of the the end of an important stage of her life is shocking. These emotions coming from a person who wanted to adopt children (read: not babies), if have any at all? I suppose I can conclude that the birth of Eliza has made a deep impression on me. Perhaps I have less anxiety and more confidence? I’m not sure. From the moment she was born, I have felt a strong connection – something I didn’t feel with Franklin until he was at least 6 months old.

There could be so many reasons for this – breastfeeding, second child experience, help from relatives, a partner who isn’t freaked out either, a beautiful son to remind us that we can be confident parents. It could be all of these combined. All I know is that the first three months, while hard, are now done and they cannot be re-done. I can’t press rewind. I know there will be more and more wonderful things to come but the newborn experience is over.

I’m sad. I do truly wish we could have more children. I wish it were a responsible thing for us to do but it is not. I’m sad about this. I find it hard to believe that this is how I feel but there it is.

Flickr is my friend

2008-06-12T00:24:28Z

blogged
Originally uploaded by AdaSaab

I saw this on typealice and thought it would be fun. I chose to pick from with the most relevant, recent or interesting searches, as it wasn’t specific.

The rules:

a. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
b. Using only the first page, pick an image.
c. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into fd’s mosaic maker.

The questions that inspired the photos:

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you.
12. Your flickr name.

If you guess what my answers to the questions were, I’ll send you a prize.
It won’t be gross, I promise.