So to update, I've just been hired as a part time Raw Food Chef apprentice; I'm finally feeling fit enough to ride my bike whilst pulling Mayana behind me on a trailer up the hills of Saltspring; and I've now officially separated (amicably so!) from Mayana's Papa.
However, in true life's irony, all I'm craving right now is coffee and hot soup; there is snow a foot deep all over Saltspring; and I'm suddenly feeling horny as heck for the first time since birthing Mayana!
Ah yes, the life of a Scorpio never ceases to be colourful...and perhaps a recount of this past weekend's shenanigans proves it perfectly...
It all started on Friday afternoon. I headed to my first day as a Raw Food apprentice for an excellent 3 hours of preparing desserts for a "Sweet Treats" workshop the next day. As we vita-mixed, soaked, dehydrated, and generally "un-cooked"...my Mum watched Mayana and took her for a long walk. "Watch out, its going to snow- its cold enough" my Mum warned when I returned. "Yeah, yeah" I scoffed...thinking, geez, its only November.
Later, San watched Mayana as I did an acting workshop with the ever-amazing Nicola Cavendish. She has acted in, and written, a number of Canadian plays, including one titled "It's Snowing on Saltspring". Without a doubt Providence took centre stage later that night as we had to rush off early from the workshop due to heavy snowfall!
By the morning, we were engulfed in a brilliant, beautiful blanket of white...and totally snowed in.
And 20 minutes past 8am, we also lost all power.
Its amazing how survival skills kick in for a group of people who are used to electric heat and hot water on demand. Firewood was whisked into the dry cover of the hall entrance, a fire was made, and blankets were rounded up. We even managed to make a pot of coffee on a camping pot on the fireplace (priorities please!).
With coffee having warmed our bellies, I donned Mayana's first ever snowsuit(!) and out we headed. She thought it was wonderful...chattering to all the new shapes made by the snow, and the birds twittering and dancing among the whitened branches. Wonderful that is...until she touched it. "Waaahhhhh!!!"...oh right, sorry darling, I forgot to mention, its REALLY cold!!
We got lots of video, and plenty of photos, and it was amazing to watch her as she giggled at the deer families walking delicately to search for food in our garden of trees. The computers were out, and the 2 teenagers in my house learned to drum, read books to us, and helped to make dinner by candlelight on the fire! Its true "Papa" and I are still getting used to our new status, but we totally worked together to keep the fire going, and to make warm beds in the living room where we all ate, talked, played, read, and slept for the next 48 hours.
Family is so unique for all people, but this past weekend, I felt a strong sense of family. My roommate who usually lives above the garage, also spent the nights with us, and it was lovely to get to know him better...and I know Mayana considers him Uncle John now that he's read her a book!
Now the power is back on, the boys are back upstairs in their rooms, and I don't have an excuse NOT to make a wheatgrass smoothie for breakfast instead of hot coffee! I still have an excuse not to bike pulling Mayana up the hill behind me!...but I did manage to go to the gym to workout yesterday.
And my peaked hormones?
Perhaps the snow reminds me of days of yore where I would snowshoe with a handsome love interest, and then return to the warm to snuggle with hot chocolate and Baileys in hand. Winter can be a very "cosy" time! Perhaps it is simply that now Mayana is 10 months old, my physical body has been able to take one of its first steps back to stand as a woman, and not just nursing mother. Or perhaps it is the new changes in my life bring feelings of excitement like a new love...healthy shifts are sexy!
Winter wonderland? Oh yes...a true weekend to symbolise the first year of parenting...we are tired, the house is a mess, we are busy organizing everyone, food is less than brilliant in its presentation...but my goodness, can it get any more magical?
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Today, I'm a good mother
Being a mother seems to mean always feeling like you could do better. If you're a stay at home mom, you feel like you don't have enough "quality" time with your baby. If you're a working mom, you plain don't have enough time with your baby. We can't win. So that's why, today, I want to celebrate: today, I'm a good mother.
My husband is away this week and work is extremely busy. On top of that, since Monday, we're trying to get Adam to fall asleep in his crib, instead of in our bed. However you want to look at it, the odds are stacked against me. Tuesday, Adam ate all his dinner, but was indignant at the idea of falling asleep in his crib (and so, consequently, didn't - no question who is boss in our house!). Yesterday, Adam had a grand total of two spoons of his dinner, but fell asleep in his crib (an achievement that was slightly dulled by the fact that he woke at 5am, starving). Today, however, he did both: he ate all his dinner AND he fell asleep in his crib. In addition to that, I managed to skip out of the office on my lunch hour and take Adam to his swimming class, even though I barely had time to breathe, much less read e-mails or make any inroads into my to-do list, . For one hour in the middle of the day, I got to play and giggle and be silly with my son. We both had a blast. And even with my break in the middle of the day, I was still home at a decent time - a successful day by any definition.
As mothers, I think we are programmed to feel that we can always do more. As women, we want to be more than a mother, and finding the balance is like searching for the holy grail. Today, I feel like I have found it. Tomorrow might be different, but today, I'm celebrating. Today, I was a good mother.
My husband is away this week and work is extremely busy. On top of that, since Monday, we're trying to get Adam to fall asleep in his crib, instead of in our bed. However you want to look at it, the odds are stacked against me. Tuesday, Adam ate all his dinner, but was indignant at the idea of falling asleep in his crib (and so, consequently, didn't - no question who is boss in our house!). Yesterday, Adam had a grand total of two spoons of his dinner, but fell asleep in his crib (an achievement that was slightly dulled by the fact that he woke at 5am, starving). Today, however, he did both: he ate all his dinner AND he fell asleep in his crib. In addition to that, I managed to skip out of the office on my lunch hour and take Adam to his swimming class, even though I barely had time to breathe, much less read e-mails or make any inroads into my to-do list, . For one hour in the middle of the day, I got to play and giggle and be silly with my son. We both had a blast. And even with my break in the middle of the day, I was still home at a decent time - a successful day by any definition.
As mothers, I think we are programmed to feel that we can always do more. As women, we want to be more than a mother, and finding the balance is like searching for the holy grail. Today, I feel like I have found it. Tomorrow might be different, but today, I'm celebrating. Today, I was a good mother.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
The breast may be best, but it's not enough
Breastfeeding was one area of motherhood I was woefully unprepared for. I expected it to be easy. I imagined myself looking serenely down at my baby feeding at my breast, a perfect picture of mother and child. Wow. Not quite.
My adventure started in the clinic, where I was given shields to help Adam latch on. First mistake: nipple shields create a barrier between you and your baby that prevents the stimulation of milk. At ten days old, Adam hadn’t regained his birth weight and so we fed him 100ml of formula. Second mistake: supplementing with formula prevents your body from producing milk. In order to try to get some rest, my husband would sometimes give our baby a bottle of expressed milk in the middle of the night. Third and fourth mistake: milk stimulation is at its greatest during the night hours and feeding with a bottle leads a baby to reject the breast. And so I felt guilty. Guilty because I couldn’t seem to be able to feed without the shields. Guilty because I was feeding him formula from a bottle instead of a feeding tube attached to the nipple (or from a syringe, as my pediatrician recommended). Guilty because I was putting my needs (rest) ahead of those of my baby (breast milk). Add two bouts of mastitis and six weeks of cracked nipples into the mix, and breastfeeding was turning very quickly into a nightmare experience.
But I survived… Eventually I said screw you and decided to do it my way – which meant nipples shields and the odd expressed bottle. I went on to exclusively breastfeed Adam until I had to return to work (ironically, as soon as I stopped obsessing about it, my milk supply increased). How? Support and lots of it. From my husband, who was always there with open arms and endless patience. From my best friend, who had been through it all and worse. Together we laughed and cried and got indignant over men writing books on breastfeeding. From our local midwife, who brought tears to my eyes when she patted me on the back and told me I was doing great, (everyone else only seemed to be telling me what I could be doing better). From my mother, who was concerned for me and not just for my baby. My mother-in-law, my yoga teacher, Adam’s pediatrician… the list goes on and on. For me, it wasn’t a village raising a child. The village was feeding the child!
So, when Health Canada or the WHO wonder why more mothers don’t breastfeed or why they give up so early (90% of mothers in Canada start, but less than half that last three months), I can tell them. It’s hard. It’s hard on Mom. It’s hard on Dad. And sometimes it’s hard on Baby. Without proper support (which is seriously lacking), an emotionally and physically exhausted mom can very easily decide that breast is not best. And really, who can blame her? Not me.
My adventure started in the clinic, where I was given shields to help Adam latch on. First mistake: nipple shields create a barrier between you and your baby that prevents the stimulation of milk. At ten days old, Adam hadn’t regained his birth weight and so we fed him 100ml of formula. Second mistake: supplementing with formula prevents your body from producing milk. In order to try to get some rest, my husband would sometimes give our baby a bottle of expressed milk in the middle of the night. Third and fourth mistake: milk stimulation is at its greatest during the night hours and feeding with a bottle leads a baby to reject the breast. And so I felt guilty. Guilty because I couldn’t seem to be able to feed without the shields. Guilty because I was feeding him formula from a bottle instead of a feeding tube attached to the nipple (or from a syringe, as my pediatrician recommended). Guilty because I was putting my needs (rest) ahead of those of my baby (breast milk). Add two bouts of mastitis and six weeks of cracked nipples into the mix, and breastfeeding was turning very quickly into a nightmare experience.
But I survived… Eventually I said screw you and decided to do it my way – which meant nipples shields and the odd expressed bottle. I went on to exclusively breastfeed Adam until I had to return to work (ironically, as soon as I stopped obsessing about it, my milk supply increased). How? Support and lots of it. From my husband, who was always there with open arms and endless patience. From my best friend, who had been through it all and worse. Together we laughed and cried and got indignant over men writing books on breastfeeding. From our local midwife, who brought tears to my eyes when she patted me on the back and told me I was doing great, (everyone else only seemed to be telling me what I could be doing better). From my mother, who was concerned for me and not just for my baby. My mother-in-law, my yoga teacher, Adam’s pediatrician… the list goes on and on. For me, it wasn’t a village raising a child. The village was feeding the child!
So, when Health Canada or the WHO wonder why more mothers don’t breastfeed or why they give up so early (90% of mothers in Canada start, but less than half that last three months), I can tell them. It’s hard. It’s hard on Mom. It’s hard on Dad. And sometimes it’s hard on Baby. Without proper support (which is seriously lacking), an emotionally and physically exhausted mom can very easily decide that breast is not best. And really, who can blame her? Not me.
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