5 Reasons why a Stroller Ride is Equivalent to a Roller Coaster for Babies

1. You have to hold onto the handlebars for fear of death! If you don’t believe me, see this picture. Obviously letting go of the handlebars will make you fall the 2 feet to your doom. Britanny has clearly forgotten that she is firmly strapped into her stroller…
2. You go over bumps all the time. This basically means that you keep being jostled from left to right, right to left, up and down, etc.
3. You can’t ignore the constant fact that you’re moving at someone else’s will, and this person might even feel inclined to take you off-roading! Let me tell you, strollers don’t always travel so well on the grass…
4. Sometimes you get so scared you pee your diaper. Don’t worry, it happens to the best of the babies. When you gotta go, you gotta go.
5. Most importantly, after all this, they are fun! There is nothing like a good stroller ride, even if you do have to go off-roading. Who wouldn’t appreciate being pushed around by someone else all day? As you may discover, going around in a stroller is extremely fun… just like a roller coaster! So why don’t you hop in a stroller sometime and save yourself 50 bucks?

What To Do When Your Baby Wants To Be an Electrician in Training

Run for the hills… you probably shouldn’t do that, since someone would call child services on you and then you would never see your little electrician again. What you should do is baby proof like crazy. That is what we did. You see, Britanny doesn’t seem to mind that there are 2 dogs running around our house or that one of them keeps food in her bowl. No, the important things to her are the little cords running behind things that mommy and daddy always pull her away from. She just knows that they are forbidden- which of course makes them the most exciting thing in the room.

When you have a tiny electrician wanna-be you can’t just pick them up and move them some other place (they will crawl back sooner than you can say “wasn’t it nice when they just lay on the floor”). You can’t just put a book or a toy in front of them. You see, these toys don’t fall into the baby code of awesome toys. For one, they aren’t forbidden. This is basically a deal-breaker, since only the coolest of toys make it past the “not-forbidden” stage. Secondly, they just aren’t as funny-looking as the little snakes winding all around the room. Thirdly, mommy wants you to play with this. Therefore, there must be something better out there!

There is only one time when you will be safe from your electrician:  when they are in that peaceful state we all desire. Unfortunately for me Britanny sleeps about as much as she leaves electrical cords alone. So now not only do I have a mini electrician infant following me around, but its one that never sleeps. This deadly combination means that not only am I wiped at the end of the day, but that I spend all my free time making sure cords are hidden from Britanny’s discerning eyes.
So hopefully the day will come with Britanny is no longer interested in electrical cords, where she ignores the tempting snake lying behind the furniture, choosing instead one of the dozens of toys awaiting her approval and attention. Until then, I guess I am blessed with an electrician in training- at least she isn’t trying to light fires or jump off tables. I’ll take what I can get.

My Baby is a Fish

I took Britanny swimming today. It wasn’t her first time swimming, but today there were very few people in the pool. This meant that she could truly stretch out her fins and splash everyone in sight. Remember how much Britanny loves to splash in the bathtub? This love is exponentially multiplied in a pool. It seems that each minute Britanny spends in the water is filled with more splashes than the minute before. Needless to say, as the person holding Britanny in the water, I would have been soaked whether it was my intention to get wet or not.

When Britanny gets in a pool you just know that she is a natural born swimmer. Its like she knows what to do- when to kick, when to move her arms, when to splash mommy so it hits her square in the eyes. Yes, Britanny is quite talented in all things water related. If she wasn’t already training herself to be an electrician (another story for another day) I would swear she is in training to be a mermaid. Who knows? They say you can have two careers now… Only time will tell.

4 Months in 4 Points or Less

I know that I haven’t written in a while- I was in school and then doing VBS. I guess my lack of writing is more of a testament to my busy life than anything else.

So what do you all need to know now?

1. Britanny has 4 (yes, count them- two top, two bottom) teeth. She does this really cute thing where she sucks in her bottom lip and looks like a beaver! If you just look at her top teeth you think “Boy, will she ever be needing some braces one day”… I’m trying to keep an open mind by thinking that this gap will inevitably get smaller as she gets more teeth to push them together. While she was teething I used to let her chew on a freezie while I had one- it was more so that I could have an excuse to have a freezie than anything. This has abruptly come to an end, since Aaron let her eat a freezie one night and she chewed a hole right in the bottom. Needless to say she was quickly covered in red juice.
2. Britanny is a monkey. She has mastered the ambitious art of crawling and is moving onto standing. I know that I have just a few months before I have an Olympic runner on my hands. Britanny seems to have a crazy sense of everything that is absolutely not acceptable for her to play with- and goes ahead and tries to get each and every one of them. We are at the trailer right now and she keeps trying to get the pair of slippers by the door. Every time they get moved or she does she goes straight for them. Its like everything electrical has a sign on it that says “here Britanny, play with meeeeeeeeeee”. Crawling Britanny could be called “trying to get into everything electrical” baby.
3. Britanny loves to eat. If she wasn’t so tall she would be the fattest kid around. Seriously, this cute little girl can eat like a horse (at least, a horse at her age). She can eat almost a whole jar of baby food in one sitting! That may not seem like a lot, but believe me, when your feeding her one spoonful at a time it is. She basically enters a baby food eating contest every time she opens her mouth.
4. 4. Britanny is as mischievous as both her parents combined, and she knows it. Every time she is crawling towards the dogs and you call her name, she slyly looks back at you, almost daring you to do anything about her actions. She knows she’s cute and she uses it to her advantage. If she is being bad, all she has to do is spit out a “dada” or a “mama” and you instantly melt. Try being mad at a baby who is smiling at you all the time. It’s practically impossible!

So this is the end of my Britanny catch-up. I hope to write more often- lord knows I have enough to write about. Not a minute goes by in our household without some sort of drama going on.

Until then, farewell. Or as B would say: “na-na-da-da-da-da-ya”

My Baby is a Bean Stalk

Britanny is an absolute giant. When you look at her around adults, she appears to be a small innocent baby. But the moment you put her next to babies who are easily months older than her you notice the difference. Let me make 1 thing clear: she is in no way a chubby baby. In fact there is often an obvious void at the front of all of her outfits. This occurs because Britanny is so long that she fits in the 6 month range of clothing (and has since she was 4 months) but cannot fill them out.
Let’s do some math. Britanny is in the 97th percentile for her height. 100 – 97 = 3 (inside we are all saying “why did I ever take high school math if all I do is subtract numbers from 100?) This number means that only 3% of babies at Britanny’s age are taller then her. Which says a lot! I’m hoping her growth spurt slows down, or else she will be the tallest non-mobile baby around.
Britanny’s height seems to put her in a very awkward spot in the nursery. All the 1 year olds seem to think that she is around their age, and therefore should be able to play alongside of them. Alas, all she can do is roll from one side to another (typically not all the way, she stops once she is resting on her side). This means that she often gets poked and prodded by other babies wanting to know why they are being ignored by the baby on the floor. She must seem like a defective baby to them. Here they are, some smaller than her, crawling around while all she can do is grab toys and shove them into her mouth. Such an alien concept to them!
Britanny doesn’t seem to notice that she is, in fact, a giant. All she seems to care about right now is the fact that while she has all the components of crawling down (moving your arms and legs) she cannot put them together in a functioning motion. And believe me, she spends hours trying to get this to work. So I’m not sure what is more saddening, that my baby is clearly taking after her Mommy and Daddy in terms of height or the fact that all Britanny wants to do is crawl, since she has no clear understanding of height. Im hoping that Britanny’s growth spurt slows down soon because I would really like her to stay in these clothes for a while- she should fill them out before moving up! If not, I may end up with a giraffe on my hands. Watch out everybody, Britanny is growing!

Being Caught With Your hand In The Cookie Jar

Or in this case, with the leaf of the plant in your hand. Britanny’s grandma Jen had a nice plant sitting in a vase on the counter. I say had because the vase existed until a few hours ago. At that point B grabbed the plant and tossed it onto the ground. There was a bang, and a wide-eyed baby looking around. Although she cannot talk, you could see that she was wondering what was going on. But we knew! She had pulled the plant trying to play with a leaf. Instead she threw it on the ground. If you had any doubts about the culprit, you had to look no further then Britanny’s hand. In it was a tightly grasped leaf- she was caught red handed.

Quite frankly I am surprised that this vase was the first thing that Britanny broke. This past month has been the month of pulling things out of Britanny’s grip. Anything that goes within a foot of Britanny's hands is in danger of being pulled and eaten. Dinnertime is the most risky, as she keeps reaching for the table cloth like there is no tomorrow. All she wants to do is hold all the dishes like a big girl. Unfortunately, as the vase so plainly proved, dishes should be scared of Britanny. It's only a matter of time before one of them ends up on the ground.

It's not that I don’t think that I can keep Britanny away from the dishes. It is the fact that I am extremely clumsy, and I know that this has been passed down to my daughter. We have lost many a dish to my hand-eye coordination (or lack there of). That’s why I keep non-expensive dishes around. I knew it was only a matter of time before Britanny’s clumsy gene kicked in. Today’s vase experience just confirmed that in my mind. So beware all breakables- the Gallea girls are coming after you whether we know it or not!

You Find Them In Your Socks

If you, like me, took off your socks after reading this title, never fear. I’m not talking about anything disgusting here, I promise not to branch off into the many strange places these things take you. For those of you who haven’t figured it out yet, I’m talking about feet. We each come with a pair, and throughout our lives use them for various activities. You can walk with them, kick people with them, or even use them to pick things up! I have never particularly liked feet- in fact, I tend to find them slightly off-putting. Its not so much the fact that they are always on the ground that bothers me so much as the way they look. Call me superficial, but feet are weird! Obviously some people have much more attractive feet than others. Britanny’s feet are absolutely adorable, while other pairs of feet are somewhat less desirable.

There are two main applications of feet. The first is probably pretty obvious: we use them to walk around. Since that is so clear (and slightly boring) I am not going to divulge deeper into this application. The second application of feet is the ability to dress them up in cute shoes, and to showcase them with cute pants! I’m not biased or anything, I just think that everybody loves to accessorize their feet. You can’t always wear the right mitts to go with an outfit (its often too hot for them) but shoes are much more socially acceptable! Has no one seen the “no shoes, no shirts, no service” signs? We value shoes! Unless your Britanny, in which case you kick your shoes off more than you kick off your socks (which is a lot)!

Its too bad that Britanny doesn’t like to wear shoes, because I have so many different pairs of shoes that have been given to her. And they are amazingly adorable. When she does wear them you can’t stop from being amazed at how cute her feet are. Whenever I see her shoes I have the incessant need to put them on her and show her off. Unfortunately she doesn’t even make it out the door with the shoes on her feet. I will just have to wait until she is older before letting her wear shoes all the time. After all, she has to get used to shoes before she starts running everywhere!

Baby On Board

I hate driving in the city. On an open road, I have no problem. But in the city there are cars on both sides of you, threatening to come and smash you to bits at all times. This fear tends to make me a safer driver. For instance, I make sure to do a full stop at all 4-ways since I have seen dozens of people completely run right through the stop. I mean, its not that hard. But apparently people think that they can all go at once. Just because I am following the rules of the road doesn’t mean others are doing the same.

This brings me to my point. Driving in the city is stressful enough, but driving in the city with a baby is just over the top. There are times when it is peaceful (aka once Britanny has allowed herself to fall prey to the rocking motions of the car) but other times when I wonder whether the screams of the baby can be heard across the city. The car tends to put Britanny to sleep in the first 5 or 10 minutes of a car ride, but this sleep is fully dependant on the speed at which you drive. Britanny is our little speedster: if you drive at any speed lower than 50 km/h Britanny will instantly start to talk, as if to tell you that your speed is unacceptable. The slower you go, the more she starts to talk.

If you have ever driven with Britanny, you will begin to dread red lights. You know that the moment that the car stops Britanny will perk up to tell you to go. I suppose she doesn’t care about the rules of the road, as she isn’t the one driving. But I care. Especially since I would always like for us to arrive at our destination safely.

Whenever you stop driving and go over to see Britanny in her car seat, she ceases whatever she was doing (including crying) in order to whip out the biggest smile she can handle. Now this isn’t your typical baby smile. There is a clear subcontext to Britanny’s smile that says: “please, please don’t leave me in this wretched seat for another minutes. I promise I’ll be best baby in the whole wide world”. 

Driving with Britanny in the car is definitely a phenomenon. There are times when she is so quiet that you forget that she is there. And then there are the times when her screams are overpowering. I can only hope that one day Britanny will find the happy medium between the sleeping and screaming baby.

Packing with Britanny

You don’t pack with a baby, you throw stuff in the nearest box as quickly as you can because you know that in a few minutes your ticking time bomb will start screaming for your attention. Seriously, ours screams bloody murder.. for everything. Britanny screams for attention, for joy, for food, for playtime, for bath-time, for tears, etc. Needless to say, getting ready for our move has been a trial in and of itself. On a good day I can get 2 full boxes packed before the waterworks start- and on a bad one, I might be able to build the box before I get called away. That might be OK if I only had a few boxes to pack, but it feels as though the pile of boxes in the apartment is never ending.
That being said, I am a pro packer. I challenge anyone to try and pack better than me with a baby attached to their front. I am one with my Baby-Go (it is like a Snuggi). Its not easy to pack a box with a kicking baby glued to you. If you bring something too close to yourself, it will either be promptly kicked to the ground or grabbed by the “death grip”. Either way, you’ve got a fair amount of work trying to get your box packed.
I thought cooking with one hand was an impressive skill to claim (one that all mothers must master if they ever want to eat), but packing with one hand takes it to a whole new level! There should be a one-handed Olympics, in which mothers of all ages participate in one-handed activities. The list of “games” would probably include the following: cooking dinner; getting dressed; doing and folding laundry; working on the laptop (for work, school or otherwise); and obviously, packing boxes. I am certain that these would be as entertaining as the current Olympics- if you doubt me, go try and butter a bagel with one hand tied behind your back. Its not as easy as it looks!
I rest my case. Babies and boxes go together as much as dog sled races and the Bahamas. In other words, they don’t! So take pity on the next mother trying to pack up her place and giver her a hand. Because then there would be at least 2 hands helping out!

The Beauty in a Baby

Vincent van Gogh once said: If one feels the need of something grand, something infinite, something that makes one feel aware of God, one need not go far to find it. I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle. While it is clear that van Gogh is saying many things here, one thing is clear. Babies may be the most miraculous beings that have ever walked the earth. 

Every morning I get woken up by a screaming baby- but the moment that Britanny sees me (or occasionally, Aaron) standing over her crib a huge smile creeps over her face. It is in that moment that you know you made her day just by waking up to spend time with her. She knows that we are going to love her, play with her and take care of her. Every morning Britanny wakes up with the knowledge and security that she will be looked after, no matter the problems she causes us, no matter how many times she screams in our ears. She has no knowledge of world issues- she just knows that we will look after her.

I think that this is one of the main reasons God has given us babies (besides the fact that they are our way of continuing our existence). Babies remind us that there is something more than our day to day lives- they have the extraordinary ability to see the beauty in everything! No one else can appreciate something as simple as a clap or ripping paper (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RP4abiHdQpc) than an infant. No adult has the ability to look at the sun the way a baby can, appreciating every single ray of light without a care in the world. They just understand that we should always take the time to appreciate the blessings that surround us each and every day.

Babies have the rare ability to look past the obstacles that life throw at us. They are completely untouched, able to appreciate everything that God has given us. Like van Gogh so aptly pointed out, it would be difficult to ignore God’s presence after seeing the miracle that is a baby. Science may be able to account for many things, but I just don’t see how one can deny the presence of God when you see a baby’s smile. There is no earthly explanation for the warmth created by a baby’s smile, and the joy found in a baby’s laughter. Children have the inane ability to touch the heart of every person, to allow them to forget their problems (even if it is just for a moment).

Britanny is the light of my life, and I cannot imagine living without her smile. All of her tears and screams are forgiven the moment she smiles and lets me glimpse at her care-free life. Maybe we should all take a hint from the babies and step back for a moment to appreciate the beauty before us. I think we would be surprised at what we would see.

The Toy That Never Should Be

I hate dolls. Always have, and probably always will. I just can not deal with them. I hate the way their beady little eyes follow you anywhere you go… its like you can hear them calling out to you “I am watching you- in fact, I never let you out of my sight. Muah ha ha ha ha….”. They are creepy little people who never sleep. They just sit there and stare at you, planning the perfect time to murder you and take over your life.
Ok, so that is probably not what goes on in a doll’s head (considering they aren’t alive this is quite possibly just a figment of my imagination). But still, I just can’t shake my fear of them! In fact, I am seriously bothered by the mere thought of dolls. As I am writing this blog my hands are shaking.  The mere thought of having a doll present in my home scares the living daylight out of me.
I can deal with many things, but dolls just push me beyond my limit. Stuffed dogs, bears, penguins and giraffes are all allowable toys in my books. They are cute, cuddly and soft. But most importantly, their eyes are not creepily following you around the room wherever you go. If I had my way dolls would never have been invented. Why do we need to create little tiny versions of ourselves to play with and eventually exile to a shelf?  I mean, no doll will be played with for years. A piece of LEGO is sure to get more playtime in the long run than the doll. It’s a though the doll knows that all it needs to do is withstand a few years of wear and tear by its little owner before it can take its “rightful” place on the mantel where it can watch diligently and creepily over the going-ons in the house.
All this to say- don’t you ever, ever dare to get my daughter a doll. It will be promptly destroyed and will never see the light of day again. You can buy her a stuffed animal any day. In fact, I welcome it. But should you be the unlucky person to help a doll cross the threshold into my home, you and your doll will suffer the consequences! You have been warned. Keep the creepy dolls far away from me.

Splashtime with Britanny

Bathtime used to be a nice, quiet time for Britanny. It was a nice, calm beginning to her bedtime routine (in other words, it set the ball rolling every night for the few hours of sleep continuously interrupted by a waking baby). That’s what used to happen. Not anymore- we now find ourselves with a baby who has discovered the joys of splashing. She doesn’t just splash with one hand or one foot. No, she does the worm in the water, causing all excess water to come straight towards her bather (ME!). You may enter the bathroom dry, but there is no way that Britanny will allow you to leave the bathroom without having been the victim of a tidal wave. The only time she is calm (or at least washable) is once she has the shampoo in her hair. I suppose she understands that any movement would result in shampoo in her eyes- something which no person would ever want, let alone a sensitive baby.
Although Britanny splashes right now, she seems to pick up skills rather quickly. You have to wonder what she will come up with next in the bath- where do you go after learning how to create a tsunami in your bathtub? Hopefully she will learn to play with her water toys, not how to soak Mommy from head to foot. Here’s hoping… 

Britanny Goes to Parliament

Otherwise known as “Britanny Loses her Socks Downtown”.

It was such a beautiful day today in Ottawa that we decided to take a family trip down to the Byward Market, and consequently, Parliament hill today. On this trip we did several things. We walked around Parliament, took some pictures, got a beavertail and some brunch. O, and we spent half the time searching the stroller and the ground for Britanny’s socks.

They seemed to have a mind of their own, choosing to fall off whenever was the most inconvenient for us. We took her out of the car, she was sockless. We went to pay for parking, she was sockless. We took her out of the stroller for a picture and (shocker) she was sockless. Just to make it clear, we are not bad parents. The moment we noticed her feet were bare we went on the hunt for the missing socks. By the time our outing was over, she had lost her socks at least a dozen times.

Now this is not the first time we have had such an experience with socks. In fact, I always keep a spare pair of socks in Britanny’s diaper bag for the time where we can not find the missing sock anywhere. It is times like these that make me question the purpose of baby socks (and shoes). Babies hate having socks on their feet! Not only do they hate the feeling, but they kick so consistently that the socks always end up coming off. There has never been a time when Britanny wore socks that they did not end up coming off within an hour of having socks put on.

Baby socks are like the worst person a sports team- they are going to be there no matter what, but you really don’t like them. They are the weakest link in the clothing chain- present to keep the baby warm, but ridiculous in every other sense.  If socks were on Survivor, they would have their torch put out after the very first day. The reason? They don’t contribute to anything!

Even with the trials and tribulations that came with Britanny’s socks, we had a great time downtown. Just because your sock hunting doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate the sun.

The Baby Doll Phenomenon

As I was packing for the big move this week I came across one of Britanny’s hats, and so, like any diligent mother, I promptly put it on her head and fell in love with how cute she looked. Now I don’t often dress Britanny up for the sake of her being “cute”, but there are just moments when it cannot be helped. When I saw this hat I fell into the hands of the baby doll phenomenon. This happens when parents (mothers in particular) feel the need to dress their children in certain outfits in order to have them look like the dolls they played with as children. There is an unspoken rule that states that you are allowed to dress your baby up for the sole purpose of having them look adorable.

I am not saying that my baby is not beautiful without this hat, or her other “dolly” outfits. Its just that these outfits make your heart warm and put a smile on your face because of how amazingly cute your baby looks in them!

Mini Milestones

Britanny is graduating to size 3 diapers today. This is a monumental milestone- it means that we can now buy her diapers in a box vs. in a bag. For those of you not in the “mommy club” this upgrade means I get to save $$$ buying diapers in bulk… not that the money saved is going anywhere but into something else for B, like food. This is not the first milestone that Britanny has met- these days she seems to come across one every few days. I like to call milestones like these “mini milestones”. They are like the little pebbles strewn along between major stepping stones- they don’t change your life, but are big enough to be noticed (and in some cases, bragged about).

When I realized that B could upgrade to the next size diaper I was ecstatic- I felt the kind of excitement you would normally reserve for a big celebration. I was cheering on the inside- I can start buying boxes of diapers and save 5$! It was then that I realized the turn my life had taken. I never would have thought that I would be so excited over a diaper upgrade in my life. I mean, I see Britanny in diapers every day (and change quite a few over the course of the day) and so they have become pretty common place in our lives. So this upgrade represents a milestone for Britanny and myself- she gets a comfy diaper, and I get to realize that my life has taken a turn I would have never imagined.

The diaper upgrade is not the only one that Britanny has experienced in the past few days. If you were to listen to an audio recording of her throughout one day you would think you were listening to an audition for a Saw movie. Our house is full of baby screams! It seems that Britanny has realized that her lungs have screaming potential, so she has decided that instead of talking all the time she would scream for minutes at a time. Whenever she is happy she giggles, says a few words and then lets out an ear piercing scream. It gets to the point where I think our neighbours might seriously be concerned what happens in our apartment.

All in all Britanny has been advancing leaps and bounds since her birth, tackling baby milestones left right and center. Today it is a diaper upgrade, and tomorrow? Maybe one day soon she will realize that she can crawl. Or sleep. Or pet the dog without pulling his hair. Any of these would be greatly appreciated. Until then I will just keep counting up her mini milestones- even a small success is a step in the right direction.

When Sharing is Uncool

Britanny is an only child. This means that she has all her toys to herself (save the dogs who occasionally are interested in the squeaking stuffed animals), and can do with them what she wants. Over the course of a day Britanny cycles through her toys, playing with them until she tires of each and every one. But Britanny has decided that there is a way to “recycle” her toys- after playing with each toy one by one, she decides to play with them together.  In this manner Britanny has exponentially increased the amount of play time she is able to get out of each toy. She can now spend hours and hours each the day playing with and stuffing different parts of her toys in her mouth without a care in the world.

It is my belief that Britanny would be utterly lost if another child was introduced to her toys. She lacks all knowledge that sharing even exists. In her mind, everything is a toy unless it is made blatantly clear that it does not belong to her. She believes that hair is a toy (both human and canine), that blankets are toys, that her hands are toys, etc. While her definition of toy may be vague, it must be understood that all she does every day is eat, sleep and play. Variety is not a word that would be used to define Britanny’s life. You could say that playing is Britanny’s profession, and as with every job there are things that need to be learned. When it comes to playing Britanny has got the “having fun” part right, now all she needs to learn is the sharing part. This might be a problem, because babies have no concept of sharing. Perhaps it is because they need to be taught it, but perhaps it is because we are not meant to be materialistic beings. Think about it- if we had no possessions to worry about, we wouldn’t be concerned with who was playing with the toys. We would just know that sooner or later they would get around to us- and there are certainly enough toys to go around! Britanny herself has enough toys to keep a small legion of children busy for a few days (which says a lot, since children cycle through toys rather quickly). That said, I am sure that as Britanny gets older and is introduced to more children her age she will have no choice but learn how to share. Its either that or become the biggest and baddest of them all- and let’s face it, schoolyard bully just doesn’t seem to fit her profile. So beware Britanny, there is lots of sharing in your future.

The Proof is in the Sweet Potato

I have a theory about life. Like Mary Poppins, I am a firm believer that sugar makes everything better. You have a sour coffee? Add sugar. Your day has been tough? Eat a cake/brownie/cookie (or a dozen) until you feel better. You are late for work because you slept in? Grab a sugar cube on your way out the door, because it’s probably the only sweetness you’ll be experiencing all day. In all these situations (and dozens more) sugar can help add a little bit of goodness to your life.
Britanny is beginning to experience the extra “benefits” of real food: the sugar content! Now we do not go out of our way to fill Britanny up with sugar, but we would never prevent her from getting sugars that are naturally occurring.

Which brings me to the sweet potato. As may be evident by the name of the food, sweet potatoes are filled with sugar. They are like God’s idea of irony in food. We would generally never consider a potato (which, may I remind you, grows in the ground) to taste sweet, and yet here is a potato filled with natural sugars. As far as starter food goes, a yummy sweet potato puree sounds good to me. It’s like dinner and dessert all rolled into one (and for Britanny, it is, because she only gets 2 meals and milk a day).
So if you ever need a sugary pick-me-up, why not turn to your nearest grocer and grab a sweet potato? If you ever need any tips on how to eat it, I’m sure Britanny will be able to help. She gobbles up sweet potato like there is no tomorrow- just wait until she gets her hand on a real sugar cube! I will be running for the hills… perhaps eating a sweet potato on the way for nutrition.

The Etiquette of Eating: a Baby’s point of view

Britanny loves to eat. She has since birth, but it seems that lately she just couldn’t get enough of it. As discussed in a previous post (see Food, Glorious Food) we had decided to start little B on food at 4 months. Well for any doubters out there, let me tell you something: after 2 days she is eating like a contestant in a Pie Eating Contest (although the food is much less flavourful). Not only is she devouring her food, but she is truly ignorant about any food etiquette. I have tried to explain to her that you do not follow a spoonful of food by shoving your fist in your mouth, but it seems to go in one ear and out the other. It seems that Britanny believes that a fist to the mouth is the perfect dessert to a bite of watery rice cereal.

There is something amazing about a baby learning to eat. You know that Britanny’s happy about her food because after every bite she starts yammering on and on, until you shove another spoonful into her mouth. Though that doesn’t always stop the talking. Britanny’s idea of food etiquette is to express your delight as soon as the food touches your tongue, ignoring the fact that it the food is probably pouring out of your mouth as you chatter on. This is why your mother tells you to eat with your mouth closed! No one wants to see a waterfall of food coming out of your mouth.

The third and final rule of baby etiquette is that it is always acceptable to shriek while eating, no matter who is around. This rule is joined at the hip with rule #2 (you can talk while eating), but they are slightly different. You can always talk while eating, but shrieking is reserved to when you have swallowed a big spoonful and are getting ready to wave  your hands excitedly around.

So to recap: the 3 rules of baby food etiquette are as follows. (1) Follow every bite of food with your fist in your mouth. A few licks and chews should suffice as palate cleansers before you move onto your next bite. (2) It is always OK to talk while eating, since waterfalls are beautiful and you should be able to create one with your food pouring out of your mouth. (3) Whenever you are excited about the food you are eating, just shriek and wave your hands around. That way you scare your dogs and let the whole world know your eating without moving from your highchair!

B is for Britanny and Blessing

We are taught many songs as children. Some are used to teach us (the alphabet, hands and feet, etc.), some are for play (the wheels on the bus, Old McDonald) and some are important life lessons hidden behind a melody. I was taught one of these “songs with a purpose” as a child. I don’t remember the entire thing, but the chorus went something like this: “Count your blessings, name them one by one; count your blessings and see what God hath done”. I recently heard it again, and it reminded me to count the many blessings that are bestowed upon us daily. So today I am going to count my many blessings, and see what God has done.

As Christians we often say that we are blessed, but it truly isn’t until we begin to see everything being stripped away that we realize the true meaning of blessing. Aaron and I had one of these moments this summer. When I was 18 weeks pregnant we were told that our baby’s kidneys were not developing “normally” and that there could be a slew of different outcomes- but that we couldn’t do anything but standby and monitor the baby until she was born. Well at that point we did two things. The first was to cultivate a general dislike for all things medical, including the doctors who would see me every 2 weeks to tell me that they still don’t know anything. The second was to acknowledge that there was something we could do- we could pray. And so we did- and we recruited everyone we knew to pray alongside of us. For the remaining 20 weeks of my pregnancy (we had Britanny at 38.5 weeks) Britanny was being covered in prayer.

We did not have to wait for Britanny to be born to see that our prayers were being answered. Although the first ultrasound had shown that both Britanny’s kidneys were “malfunctioning”, by the time the next ultrasound rolled around her right kidney appeared to be developing at a normal rate. Our baby’s chances had suddenly increased exponentially- people can live with just one kidney. By the time Britanny was born we had been seeing the high risk pregnancy clinic at the Ottawa General Hospital every two weeks for the past 4 months- needless to say, I don’t ever want to see another nurse in my life. We knew that there were still a few ways that Britanny’s health could turn out, and that we could be in for a rough journey after her birth.

Well Britanny was born, and we were only detained in the hospital a few hours longer than normal (although it felt like forever) and she has had a few tests done since birth. Although she is on preventative medication should her left kidney cause problems, she is a perfectly happy, healthy baby. This is the biggest blessing we could have ever received. There is no doubt in my mind: Britanny is a healthy child because she was (and is) constantly surrounded by prayer.

In the wake of the turmoil occurring around the world it is very easy to doubt the Lord. But at the same time, it opens our eyes to be able to thank him for all the small things we have in our lives. It is easy to say that we are blessed when we have already weathered the storm, and it is another to remind ourselves of God’s love and mercy while we are suffering. I can only hope that Britanny’s story will serve as an encouragement- and as a reminder that we all have blessings to count.

From his abundance we have all received one gracious blessing after another- John 1:16

The Price of Being Cute- a Baby’s Take on Life (as Told by Britanny)

… as imagined by Elayna…

Apparently I’m cute. Although I’m not really sure what cute means, it makes people shove their faces next to mine, talk to me in really high voices and touch my hands and cheeks. I can’t talk, so what do I do? I give them my best “dead possum” look, hoping to scare them away. I glaze over my eyes and open my mouth ever so slightly, wishing they would take the hint and leave me alone. If it works for possums why won’t it work for me! I’m small like them and I smell like one too.

For example: I went out with my parents for dinner on Thursday and every waitress in the place stopped by our table to admire me. Is there something I’m missing? Why can’t I be cute without attracting attention? It’s not like I can fend them off or anything. I just want to stare at light fixtures in peace, but no one seems to be able to leave me alone for more than 5 minutes at a time! Go play with your own baby, I’m a little busy playing dead possum here.

There is one good thing about being cute. Whenever I want to be picked up I just give you my best smile. Its the “come on, you know you wanna hold me” smile. Mommy and Daddy get it every time I’m stuck in my car seat. It seems to work… they never leave me in the car alone. Here, I’ll teach you how. You just give your best grin and open up your eyes as wide as humanely possible. It really is that easy! Of course you also have to be as cute as a button to pull it off.

Some people think being a baby is easy. But they don’t know the half of it! It gets pretty gruelling, eating, playing, smiling, farting, and pooping all while looking adorable. Which you need to do in order to maintain your cuteness status. Its your only defense from all the bad things in the world! All babies know this- we are cute so that our parents will protect us from all the dangers in the world. That way they have to quickly forgive us for ruining our clothes (or theirs)- no one can resist a smile from a baby!

You will have to forgive me, I have to run. My bed is calling, it’s nap time for me. I would like to conclude by reminding everyone that being a cute baby is a lot of work, and should never be taken for granted. Also, you try drooling and looking cute all the while. Its pretty tough. Just saying.

Food, Glorious Food

Britanny is at the point in her life right now where she yearns to eat “real food”. She doesn’t just want to, she desires it with all her heart. You can tell because whenever you are eating she stares at your food and just watches it go into your mouth with the widest of eyes. Some organizations state that babies should be completely breastfed until 6 months, but at this point we think we are going to side with those who say you can feed babies rice cereal starting at four months. Hopefully the food will help Britanny start to sleep through the night, since right now it seems that she is only waking up to eat.

So the countdown has begun. In 8 days we can start teaching our baby to eat from a spoon- I suppose this will begin a new diet for our dogs too, seeing as they are the resident floor cleaners.

Sleep Training: the Horror Show You Never Knew Existed

I guarantee you that each and every person who is reading this blog sleeps. You may sleep during the day, you may sleep at night or you may just take intermittent naps throughout the day. But you sleep. I don’t even care if you suffer from insomnia- the bottom line is that every person sleeps at some point within their life. I never realized this, but not all babies are not born with the ability to sleep. I mean they “sleep” because they cannot function- their bodies just shut down. But being able to fall asleep on their own? Some just lack this skill. Britanny is one of these babies.
Britanny hates sleeping. Its not just a general dislike that goes away once she is asleep. Its a full-out complete hatred. If sleep was a person she would have murdered it so she didn’t ever have to face it again. That’s not all. Britanny only sleeps until she is rested enough to not be sleeping. She sleeps so she can function, not so that she will be fully rested.
One of the first question people always ask about Britanny is how she is sleeping. My instinct? To slap them across the face and yell “can’t you see the dark rings around my eyes?!?” I am pretty sure that they are an indication of Britanny’s extreme lack of sleep. But no, I politely tell them that her sleeping patterns leave much to be desired. That’s it, that’s all. And if you want to know more, why don’t you just borrow her for a night? Britanny gets up between 4 and 7 times a night (her night being between 730 pm and 630 am), so forgive me if I’m less than thrilled when asked how she is sleeping.
After hearing all this, do not despair. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. At some point in Britanny’s life we need to allow her to cry herself back to sleep when she wakes up- the problem is twofold. The first is that it is to early to sleep train because she still wakes up to eat. The second is that the screams of a baby tear my heart into a million pieces. Even letting her cry for 2 minutes feels like a century. So the solution? I will be leaving the apartment when we sleep train. When it comes to the fight or flight instinct, I will definitely be siding with the flight. I never said I was strong willed when it comes to listening my baby cry. Aaron can fight for me, and I will fly away like the cowardly bird I am proud to be.

Onesie or Outfit? The Age-Old Dilemma.

Babies do not like clothes. I’ll just say that upfront. I guess its because they have just spent nine long months swimming around in their mom’s tummies and the feel of clothing is itchy and foreign. So it is a struggle just to get Britanny into a onesie without upsetting her. That being said, I am not ashamed to admit that she rarely ever leaves them. She wears a onesie to bed, in the car, to play, even to church (gasp!). The only time we whip out the separates (pants and shirts) is right before laundry day. This is simply because of necessity, not because separates look any cuter.

It is my firm belief that babies do not need to be dressed in fancy clothing because they will ruin them! I do not know a single baby who will withhold their spit up/throw up/ poop because “my outfit cost mommy and daddy 100$”. Babies are the ultimate egalitarians. They do not care where they are, who they are with or what they are wearing- they will be messy no matter what.

That being said, I do not understand the concept of buying your infant brand-name clothing. Your 6 month old is not going to know the difference between Gap Baby and Wal-Mart , and I am pretty sure that people will not judge you if you let your baby be comfortable. If they do, you can just shame them into feeling bad for you! Let them know that since you do not get any sleep and get some sort of bodily fluid on you once a day you have the right to let your baby wear their “lazy clothes” all day long.

I believe that people who dress their babies to the nines do it so that they can use their baby as an accessory. Like a handbag, your baby comes everywhere with you. So why not have matching shoes, handbags and a baby? Well, because a baby is a cute, disgusting being that loves to ruin anything clean or nice. I did my laundry on Saturday, and on Sunday I got two big globs of spit up on my jeans within 20 minutes. Babies understand irony. The moment it is inconvenient for you to have them be messy is the moment they choose to become terrorizing pooping/throwing up machines.

Babies have an odd sense of humour- they have no problem rolling around the floor naked, but the moment you try to keep them looking nice for a picture or church they pull out all the stops. They can go from calm and sleeping to screaming and spitting up faster than you can whip out a bib. Or hand them off, if you are Aaron and don’t like the mess babies make. In many ways a baby is like a rude man- they burp, spit, and fart with no care or concern with who is around. You wouldn’t want to accessorize with a dirty, grungy adult, so why take so much time and effort to accessorize with a baby? You just know that you will have to change them within the hour.

All in all, I believe that no one should judge when my baby is wearing a onesie because they aren’t the ones who deal with the mess. Besides, who wouldn’t want to wear comfy clothes 24/7 while being adorable? My vote is for onesies. What's your vote: comfy onesie or fashionable accessory?

Little Green Monsters Strike Again

As Britanny and I stood in the “parent’s room” on Sunday we learned 2 things. The first is that the 11 o’clock service is extra crowded when the time changes. The second (and most important) is that as parents bring their babies to the nursery they experience sudden and strong bouts of what can only be described as baby envy. Baby envy occurs when parents have a mental competition between their baby and another, with their child ending up on the losing side of things. One such competition is the stacking contest. Maybe your baby cannot stack objects while the other shows a proficiency in this area. You want so much for your baby to cream the other baby in stacking, but its just not happening.

Every person who has a child has no doubt experienced a bout of baby envy- they look at another child and think “I wish my child could do that”. Case and point: there were 2 babies in the nursery (who, in order to remain anonymous, shall be named A and B) who were both 9 months. While A was perfectly capable of crawling, B travelled by rolling around (like a steamroller). B’s mother expressed the wish that her baby would just get on her knees and crawl already. I assume that this is because in B’s travels she has rolled over some painful objects, but who knows. I for one would be perfectly happy rolling around everywhere. Just saying- that would save me lots of $$ on gas.

Now each parent knows that their baby envy is unfounded- each child advances at their own rate. But for some reason, every adult throws this knowledge out the window, wanting their baby to be the winner, the most advanced, the coolest of them all. Its like high school all over again- everybody wants to be the one with the name brand baby. They want their baby to take the other baby out, to show them who’s boss.

The funny part about baby envy is that the children clearly have no idea that these competitions are happening, or that they are contestants in the weekly “Sunday Morning Baby-off”. Just because A can crawl and B can steamroll at 9 months won’t get them anywhere in the long run. Baby A probably isn’t going to end up running in the Olympics, and Baby B probably isn’t going to get a career driving a steamroller.

So now you know what goes on in the parent’s room. Baby envy may be illogical, but that doesn’t stop it from happening. While everybody is politely talking to each other, they are mentally screaming from the sidelines “Pick up that block Johnny! Smash her stack of blocks! You show her who’s boss!”. Most people think that the annoying parent who yells from the stands at hockey practice only became that way when their child starting playing, but they were wrong. Baby envy is simply the first symptom of “annoying sports parent” syndrome. Some of us grow out of it, and some simply do not. There is no known cure for the green monster of jealousy, but there is a way to ward it off- simply make sure your baby is the best at everything. Maybe yours can steamroll the competition away.

The Creepy Case of the Curious Old Ladies

The victims? All babies in strollers.

The criminals? Old ladies milling around doing their various errands.

The crime? Staring at each and every stroller that walks by hoping their x-ray vision will kick in, allowing them to see the baby being kept inside.

I digress… Every old lady has no idea that babies have personal space. In fact, in order for these women to keep their “annoying grandma” status they must be within 1 foot of a cute babies at all time. In the very least, they need to be attempting to make eye contact with the child. This proves to be quite the challenge, so they escape from their lives to troll the aisles of various stores looking for babies to ogle.

I believe that the older people become, the more freedoms they allot for themselves. Case and point: when you are young, you follow the rules of the road (or in the very least attempt to do so). Now take a look at all the horrendous old drivers out there who believe the rules of the road don’t exist for them because when they were young they “walked uphill both ways to school”. Elderly women believe that their age allows them to intrude on the lives of the young and fertile. I’m here to argue the point. Just because you existed when hippies were around does not mean you have the right to come within an inch of my baby’s face.

I have a theory. The older you get, the stronger your “baby-radar” becomes. The baby radar is the part of the female brain that reacts whenever a baby enters a room. When you are young the alarm is barely noticeable, but as you get older it becomes more and more prominent. As you age the beeping gets louder and louder, until you reach the point where you cannot stop the noise without turning into the proverbial cheek-pincher. You need to go up to every stroller you see and comment on the baby. You need to know their name, age, gender, birthdate, diet, family history, etc. It may sound like I am exaggerating, but truly I am not. It must be exciting, strolling the aisles of Wal-Mart for looking for babies while on leave from the retirement home.

Perhaps these women have been so tarnished by all their years on the planet that they forgot that it has never been socially acceptable to stare inside a covered stroller without invitation. Why is it that people are so wary of strangers, but have no problem harassing a woman with her child?

Now one of these women may be your grandmother, and she may be mine. So all I can say is this: although it may not seem like it, babies have personal space too!

Case closed: The older you get, the more you feel the need to recapture your childhood in any way possible. What is more symbolic of the fountain of youth than pooping, crying, screaming babies? That, my friends, is the question of the hour.

The prey: Babies, the everlasting symbol of youth, 

The predator: Aging women trying to regain some trace of childhood innocence. 

After having reviewed the facts of the case, I have decided that a) I really don’t like strangers near my baby; b) Babies deserve personal bubbles too; and c) If you ever want to know where the old ladies hang out, look no further than your nearest Wal-Mart.

The curse of the musical toy

Musical toys are like dogs. They come in different shapes sizes and colours, but they all bark. No matter what kind it is, it can bark. Or in the case of baby toys, play annoying songs over and over and over. You can love a dog but hate its bark. In the same way, you can love the effect of a toy while completely despising its every aspect. You love that it keeps your child quiet and occupied, but hate the fact that it bothers you so much!

These toys might not be so bad if they weren’t your baby’s favourite toy. You could move the toy in and out of reach, allowing it to be used for only a short while every day. Unfortunately, of all the toys available (and there are many), Britanny has decided that the musical one is the toy of the century! It plays 3 songs over and over and over again, no matter what you pull, push or tap. After being in the same room with it for 30 minutes your ears are scarred for life. I’ll never be able to sing Allouette again. Ever. In fact, the next time I hear it I may punch out the person next to me. Consider this a warning!

Now it may sound as though I hate music- this is not true. What I cannot stand is the same song playing non stop. A musical toy is like a broken record- it is cursed to forever play the same tune for eternity. As long as there are batteries in the right place, lights will continue to flash and music will continue to play. Some curses can be ended with a kiss, others with a potion… the curse of the musical toy seems to be bound to batteries. So thanks Mr. Energizer Bunny for being the power source of my headache.

I can only hope that the novelty of this toy will soon fade into the background and it can re-enter circulation with the rest of Britanny’s toys. Hopefully her next infatuation will be with a silent stuffed animal. The worst thing she can do with that is throw it around, which, in comparison to the never-ending music, is a blessing.

Sleep: the (previously) undervalued merit of “resting your eyes”

Have you ever heard the expression “I slept like a baby”? People use it describe an amazing, deep sleep. Its all lies I tell you, lies! I don’t know what that person was on who first created this saying because babies do not sleep well. At least this one doesn’t. No person I know would want to sleep like Britanny, unless they wished to sacrifice all long term sleep and take periodic naps throughout the day. There is only one plus side to a baby: I haven’t used my alarm clock since before Britanny was born. So if you hate your alarm clock, get a screaming baby. Or borrow mine for the night. I’m sure we could work something out.

You know in soccer (or football or hockey, etc.) when you “fake out the competition”- you make them think your going one way and then you go the other? That’s what Britanny does every single time she needs to sleep. She lulls you into a false sense of security, thinking that she has finally gone to sleep- then WHAM her eyes flicker open and she gives you the evil smile. The general translation of this smile is as follows “ha ha, you think your I’m sleeping but in actuality I’m just playing you ”.  If you didn’t know what to look for, you would think she had gone to sleep. In reality Britanny is watching your every move, waiting for the right moment to scream. Or fart. Or pull your hair. Generally just anything that would prevent her from sleeping.

All in all it takes a miracle to get Britanny to sleep. So like I said, if you don’t need your alarm clock, I’ll gladly trade. But I’m sure I would get her back within the same day because, lets face it, who wants to spend two hours walking a baby to sleep for a 30 minute nap.

Motherhood: a Lifetime of Unexpected Laughter

Having a baby does many things to your life. It ruins your sleep schedule, makes you long for the days when you could take the dogs out without being a big affair, and it allows you to have a whole new view on the world. Today I thought I would share part of my newly acquired view.

I now know that there are two types of people in the world. Those who can laugh at stories about children because they have had a very similar, and yet completely different experience- and those who laugh at those people. I used to be the latter. Before we had Britanny I always found myself chuckling a little when I heard my friend's "funny" baby stories. Its not that I didn't find these stories funny. Its just that I found the idea of finding baby stories amusing odd. It was beyond me that poop stories could actually be considered funny- and so I laughed at the people that actually enjoyed these tales.

Its been 3 months since we have crossed the fence- I can now proudly say that I honestly laugh every time Britanny farts at an awkward time, and that I find similar stories equally entertaining. Don't get me wrong, I love my baby. But she has made it perfectly clear to me that children are God's natural comedians. They just know how to make you smile. So after 3 months of "parenting" (or as I like to call it "experimenting on Britanny for the benefit of our future children and their upbringing") I thought I would share some of my newly acquired baby stories. And don't worry if you are now the person chuckling at me: I have two things to say. The first is that I am not offended. The second: don't worry, one day you too will join me on the dark side.