So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, smell ya later.

Adapting to change is something I am not very good at historically. Laying in bed a few nights ago, I calculated that I've moved about 15 times in the past 16 years. Each time, I go through a wistful longing for what I must leave behind, always in an overly dramatic fashion.

Of all the places I've lived, I'd say this is the one I should feel the most
bittersweet regret about.

The past few evenings, after getting L to sleep, I'd lie on the couch as the sun sets and just quietly listen to the outside. Here is what I heard each time: A red wing blackbird with it's nest on our roof, chirping, a mother duck calling out to it's ducklings that nest near our wall by the river edge, waves of the river rolling over the currents, the occasional airplane passing high above and other than that...silence. That, my friends, is something I should be expecting to pine over, after I leave it behind.

However, instead of worrying if I've made a grave error in deciding to move, which is what I usually do, I just feel ready this time. Maybe, after 15 tries, I'm getting better at it. Maybe, I'm too sleep-deprived to care? Maybe, I'm just so looking forward to life being a little more convenient and having friends and family closer by for us and for L to grow up with and know these people, that all the sensitive sentimentality I usually feel, is just not getting any ice time.

So back to civilization, back to neighbours and the centre of town, back to Ontari-ari-o we go.

Bye-bye river, bye-bye quiet, bye-bye taking 12 buses and trains to get anywhere, bye-bye social isolation and bye-bye freezing our friggin asses off in the winter. Bye-bye to this little white shack on the water. 'Twas nice knowing you, you served me well, but smell ya later.

We have a new phone number, a new address and they roll delightfully off the tongue. I've purged a good deal of wordly possesions and plan on purging even more. Fresh start, fresh walls and all that hopefull jazz.

The Avett Brothers say: "When you run make sure you run to something and not away from..." True dat! Word.

I've been drinking the most awful smoothy while typing this. We're trying to use up what's left in the fridge. You're picturing a smoothy made from old apples and relish and hotdog buns? Well, it's not that bad. It has almond milk and thawed mangoes and peaches and strawberries...sounds ok so far, but then I added some hemp powder for protein and fibre. Hemp powder sort of congeals after it sits for a while and turns things brownish green and stays grainy like fine sand. Mmmm. Makes you want to go have a smoothy huh? I should have just ate some cold pizza like I was tempted to.

Anyway, one more day here. Tomorrow it's me and L on the train together for 6 hours, annoying the crap out of all the snooty snoots in first class (I splurged). Wish us luck.

Now I go dump this evil in a glass and get do-overs on breakfast.

Awkward Family Moments

I have not laughed so hard in so long. This site rules.

Probably could start a whole other blog on this topic...

Current songs obsessively running through head:





What are yours?

Holding hoofs on lakes of gold.

I think it's anxiety management; My brain obsessively repeats songs in my head over and over. For a month, it was Uptown Girl by Billy Joel and Mommy, Daddy You and I by Talking Heads.(Have I mentioned that already?) Lately, it's been this one from the first Pink Panther movie:



I have trouble falling asleep at night, so I've learned the art of extremely detailed fantasizing. I don't mean smutty stuff. I just mean escapism. I try to picture things in excruciating detail(temperature, wallpaper pattern, etc...)that seem relaxing. This week, it's been a ski chalet vacation a la the afforementioned original Pink Panther. The one with David Niven. I just love the whole ambiance of that movie.

They aren't very exciting fantasies, since they are meant to be relaxing I guess. Once, I imagined having a chat with Woody Harrelson and Owen Wilson. We had dinner and I ordered a piece of cake for dessert. We talked about Texas and movies. They asked me if I wanted to continue the evening at an outdoor party with them, but I opted to go back to my hotel room early and have a bath and watch a movie and call it an early night. Yes, I am a boring introvert, even in my imagination.



Sometimes, I just picture weather. A cloudy sky or snow falling. Welcome, ladies and gentlemens, to the inner world of my mind. It's that uninteresting. Well what do you picture? Unicorns on lakes of gold, holding hoofs with striped elephants and chocolate covered leprechauns engaging in ultimate fighting championships? You do? That's pretty awesome actually. Good for you!

That sure as shit, would not get me to sleep at night though.

I remember the the 3 or 4th night, in the hospital, after Leon was born. We had been moved to a shared room with another couple. I was delirious from lack of sleep. Every time I would close my eyes, my brain would think of ridiculous scenarios and fevered plays on words that would crack me up. I would shut my eyes and start laughing and snorting and guffawing. Must have been annoying for the other woman.

My first tendency now, when I close my eyes, is to imagine all the possible horrors that await me as a mother. All the things I have to worry about possibly happening to the little Sasquatch. That's why I need to drown out those thoughts with very very detailed daydreams. It's called being crazy.

L is napping again at the moment. I shall go close my eyes, picture a particularly tasty bowl of ice cream and maybe a rainstorm and see if I can't get a new song in my head. Oh, that was another one that haunted me for a couple of weeks actually: New Song by Howard Jones. Probably started that exact way, by me saying: Gawd! I need a new song in my head! Not such a bad song to have combating catastrophic thinking...



Throw off your mental chains! Oooh, ooh ooh.

Will that ever come back in style I wonder? Dudes wearing big fuzzy sweaters with a belt and puffy pants rolled at the ankle? Actually, it's sort of still going strong with a certain genre of pan flute playing, "gypsy" type Quebec dudes. Swarthy ones with long curly hair who only wear sandals and have Guatemalan girl friends. These are dudes you just don't find in the rest of Canada...unless they are orginally from Quebec in the first place...

Ah crap! I missed the nap opportunity. L is up! Gotta go.

3 months, 1 week and 2 days.

Whew. I thought it was supposed to get easier around this time. HAAA HAAA HAAAA!

He gets cuter, that's for damn sure. Easier? Nuh-uh. I think I have less time now than I did at the start. I've been having troubles with breastfeeding and low supply. My goal is to inch, day by day, as close to the 6 month mark as possible. Every day, when I feed him and then pump to increase the supply and then give that to him to keep up with his demands and gear up for the next round, I think: Seriously? I keep doing this? The answer I usually come up with is: Yes. I keep doing this. At some point, it may just not be feasible any more, but I've reached, what I thought was the end of the line a few times and found a way to push through. We'll see. All I know is these days, I spend a poop of a lot of time thinking about, looking at or giving milk. Milk, milk, milk. I know the international sign for it too : squeeze your hand like you are milking a cow. Yep.

You know what though, it's only 6 months of my life. I have a bottle of Moet and Chandon that I will be cracking the heck open when that little bean gets his first piece of mushy carrot and mom's bazoombs start to ease off the frontlines. I was never much of a drinker, but I intend to chug-a-lug to mark the occasion of getting to the finish line of this breast feeding challenge.

I guess that's also about the time where I'll start dealing with the extra weight. Right now, I'm enjoying the steadfast hold my body is keeping on my post pregnancy weight no matter WHAT or how much I eat. (have you noticed how small easter cream eggs have become?) I've never been able to eat so freely in my life and not have my weight go up. It's sort of kick ass.

Leon is such a charming little buddha. His natural tendency is toward peaceful happiness. He's social and has a sparkling look in his eye of kindness and wisdom. Where is he getting it from?? Not me!

He is certain about his needs though. Hunger and tiredness can turn his humour on a dime. That, he does get from me. I'm actually choosing blogging over napping right now, which is dumb and I will regret it, but hey.

Often, Leon will look at me like he knows waaaay more than I do about everything and like he finds my naivety endearing and amusing. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

He's a little champion and I can't wait for him to talk to hear what he's got to say.

I go now and catch tail end of nap opportunity before I get back on milk duty, not to be confused with rock and roll duty. Shout out to you Kim Mitchell.