Kijiji Spree

For anyone who doesn't know what Kijiji is...it's basically a centralized online network of classified adds (got the definition from Wikipedia). In other words, you can buy used stuff from people you don't know, for much less than you'd buy it new. Kind of like an online garage sale.

Rhys is so 'busy' these days, I was dying for some new items to occupy him. So I went on a mini-binge.

Over the weekend, I drove to Dalhousie to get this Lego Table:

To Okotoks to buy this train table (which also came with a bunch of train track & Thomas trains that we'll give Rhys later):

And to Aspen Meadows to get this darling table & chairs:

Now, he doesn't really play with these things in the way I imagined he would. You know, by sitting nicely and reciting his ABC's while he builds an exact replica of the Eiffel Tower. No. Instead he just climbs up on it all and puts his life danger.

Picture Purge

Just uploading some of my favorite pics that have been held captive on my camera lately...

Tree Hugger:

Cranbrook Reunion...

Easton's Birthday - Rhys' first time in a bouncy castle:

Kid can fit a whole golf ball in his mouth (learned that the hard way!):

Meeting Rob & Tiffany's son William for the first time:

Playing with his cousins:

Thanksgiving 2010:

Happy + A Random Act Of Kindness

First, some background.

At the beginning of the year, I made a resolution to make monthly resolutions. Turns out, a woman named Gretchen Ruben did a similar thing, wrote a book about it, and it became #1 on the New York Times Bestseller list. I had no idea. Her book is called ‘The Happiness Project’. A friend of mine had been reading it, and when she started talking about it with me she was shocked to learn that I had never heard of it. She had been sure that my resolutions were inspired by this book. How intriguing!

I mentioned this coincidence, in passing, in a comment on a blog, and promptly forgot that I had ever mentioned it.

The other day I opened my mailbox and was treated to a random act of kindness.

Inside an envelope was a book plate, signed by the author of said book (Gretchen Ruben), sent to me from the writer of the blog that I commented on. Her & I are connected through friends, and read each other’s thoughts online, but have never met.

I promptly went out and bought the book and put the book plate inside.

Now, when I am able to read a few minutes here and there, not only am I being inspired to live with purpose and become a happier me, I am also reminded of the power of a kind gesture.

Thank-you, Nicole.

I’ve been reading the book, bit by bit, for a couple weeks now, and I’ve got to say, this Gretchen woman is intense. She’s definitely a Triple AAA personality and her approach to ‘the pursuit of happiness’ intrigues me because her approach is so scientific. She came up with charts, and lists, and commandments, and rules and she researched tons, and she quotes statistics like “people who have fun are 20% more likely to be happy”. She’s thorough. She’s dedicated. She makes my resolutions look like sissy-pissy-pants resolutions. Her year-long experiment yielded so many insightful nuggets into what it takes to be happy that I feel like I’ve landed on a goldmine of ideas that I can’t wait to try. Some of them are really hard and scary (like forcing herself to no longer require praise and recognition for things she does), and some of them are really genius and fun (like creating unique family traditions that transform her home into a ‘treasure trove of memories’).

But, I know myself. I am not a Triple AAA personality. I have no desire to take on as many behaviour changing challenges as she did all at once. But I am inspired to up the anti a little. To push myself to find more meaningful resolutions. Ones that challenge me and push me outside of my comfort zone. I’ve been really guilty of this lately...not pushing myself.

One ‘nugget’ that resonated with me was the concept that happiness comes in an ‘atmosphere of growth’. When we’re learning, growing, bettering ourselves...we are happier. Another nugget was in her section about having more fun...she put some serious effort into identifying things she truly found ‘fun’. Not things she thought she SHOULD find fun, but things that she truly enjoyed. So she thought back to her childhood – what did she like doing then? What brought her joy as a child might bring her joy now. This also resonated with me, because when I was a tween I took dance classes, and really enjoyed that. Recently I took part in a friends ‘Glee Club’, that was more dancing than singing, and I had SO MUCH FUN. I seriously felt like that 12 year old girl in jazz class again.

This got me thinking that for my September resolution I would figure out something I could do that would A) create an atmosphere of growth, and B) tap into something I enjoyed doing at a young age.

After much deliberation, I came up with my plan.

My resolution for September is to take the steps to start up my very own ‘Conversational French Club’. I was in French immersion from grades 1 – 12, and as a kid I enjoyed speaking French. Since graduating high school, however, I have lost nearly all of it. Warren & I’s trip to Paris highlighted that.

What will this club look like? I’m thinking a group of 6-8 adults, who at one point knew some French and are interested in getting it back. The group would meet every other week for an hour or two and speak French, with French dictionaries on hand. I’m thinking a 6 ‘meet’ commitment at first, with the possibility of continuing in the new year.

Now – I need to find these 6-8 adults...Facebook, here I come!

The Honeymoon Is Over

The first couple weeks being back at work were great. I won’t lie.

The quiet bus ride, sipping a latte. The morning chit chat with co-workers where people talked about stuff OTHER than how long their baby did or did not sleep last night. The meetings where tasks were assigned and lists were made. The peaceful time at my desk, being ‘Creative Amanda’, writing scripts, with all my favourite photos of Rhys cycling by in my digital picture frame. The lunches that I could eat, at my own pace. The steaming afternoon coffee that was still hot when I swallowed the last drop. Heck, I even got to be on set again, saying hi and catching up with all the crew members I used work with on a monthly basis in my past life. I was me again. It felt great.

Now that I’ve been back, just shy of a month, it’s dawning on me that waking up at 6am every day, no matter that I only slept for 2 or 3 hours because of a sick, restless toddler, is a permanent reality. That time to blog (and read blogs)and go the gym, oh – and connect with my husband in a meaningful way, are falling off the to do list fast. By the time the evening has unfolded there isn’t any time. I’m not the type of person who will stay up until midnight to ‘get things done’. Sleep is a precious commodity I don’t take for granted. I’ve already experienced afternoons at work where, if only I had a more private work area, I wouldn’t have hesitated to rest my head on my desk and have a power nap.

I am so tired.

The house is messy. The clothes are dirty. The shrubs in the yard are unkempt and unruly. The garbage can in the kitchen is beginning to stink. The potted plants are brown, and yet, they remain on the front steps to greet visitors. The highchair and stroller are caked with smashed cheerios and applesauce. The fridge is full of nutritious food that has wilted and died while I cooked frozen pizza for the 3rd time in a week. And, when there is a moment or two where I could actually clean or be productive in some way, all I want to do is SIT. And beat myself up for not being more energetic.

I’m sure I can’t blame the fatigue entirely on being back at work, because it’s not like I was saving the world in my spare time before. In fact, if I’m being truly honest, I think I’d be even more tired if I wasn’t back at work.

Simply put, Rhys is just a handful these days. I’ve gotta say, 13 months is not my favourite age thus far. He’s walking and exploring which is lovely, but his little world is still revolving solely on his selfish instincts and any time he cannot touch or hold or eat or climb that ONE THING he has his heart set on, it’s a catastrophic event in his mind. He can’t communicate his moods, his preferences, his discomfort, his boredom, his hunger, his fatigue...all he can do is whine and cry and scream and stomp his feet. If I was still at home every day, all day, with him at this stage, I would probably lock myself in the bathroom and cry.

I want to write about this phase, because by writing about it I’m reminding myself that it is, indeed, a phase.

Another 'Parenting Right of Passage'

This story begins with a boy who hadn’t had a dirty diaper all day.

And ends with that boy’s mother yelling down the hall to her husband during bathtime...”Come quick! We’ve got FLOATERS!”.

We'll let your imagination fill in the middle bits.

Mister Happy Uses A Spoon

Today was the first day in a long time (about 2-3 weeks) that Rhys was being his old happy self again. Since starting daycare he's been plagued with ear infections, a runny nose, pink eye, a sore throat, and countless restless, miserable nights.

So when he was flashing me with smiles tonight I grabbed the video camera and let it roll.

How I've missed you, my sweet little man.

Widescreen version HERE.

"Motherly"

Yesterday Warren had his first official 'Daddy Day' with Rhys. Today was the first day of our new 'work day' routine, where Warren takes Rhys to daycare and picks him up. He picked him up around 3:15pm, and since I don't get home until 5:30pm, he had even more alone time with Rhys today. We had this conversation tonight after dinner at his brother's house...

Amanda: I've noticed a change in you, already.

Warren: What do you mean?

Amanda: Like tonight, when we were leaving, you knew where Rhys' shoes were when I asked.

Warren: Yah, because I was the one who took them off.

Amanda: And, you buckled Rhys into his carseat without asking me to help or check that it was tight enough.

Warren: Um Hmmm.

Amanda: And after bath time, you didn't dissappear into the office to check Facebook, instead you hung around to help straighten up his room and see if I wanted you to read him his bedtime story...It's like you've suddenly...become...

Warren: More Motherly?

Amanda: Yes! More Motherly. It's awesome.

(Editor's note: I do not want to imply, in any way, that Warren never used to help or do things with Rhys on his own. That couldn't be further from the truth. But I think us 'Mothers' have a certain way we hover and do things and want things done that is very different from how fathers function. So it stood out very strongly to me when Warren started functioning that way.)

Extra

This photo was missed in my Folk Fest post...

First Day

A few people have asked me, "Why Wednesday? Why start work again in the middle of the week?".

There is a method to my madness, people.

Wednesdays are still Warren's day off, so we decided that Rhys would stay home from daycare on Wednesdays to have a 'Daddy Day'. I liked the idea of going back to work on a 'Daddy Day' so that our morning could be a bit more relaxed, and I could check in as much as I wanted to see how Rhys was doing. This worked out great, because I was super relaxed at work, plus Rhys had his one-year shots yesterday, so today he got to have a much needed extra nap since he was home with Warren and not on the daycare's schedule.

The other reason was that I wanted to have a short week this week (3 days) and another short week next week (4 days, because it's a long weekend). Also, I wanted to be paid for the holiday Monday.

See? Makes perfect sense.

It was totally surreal being back to my old routine, but at the same felt like an old hat. I had underestimated how much I love the people I work with.

Started the day with a tour around the floors with my boss, to meet new people, say hello to old colleagues and learn who had been promoted or moved to another team.

Next was a 'coffee meeting' at the new Tim Horton's next door. Got the low-down on what has been happening over the last year in our department.

Then my email was set-up and I got to respond to all the lovely messages of 'Welcome back!'.

Up next, a Team Lunch at the new pub near by. Shot the breeze, talked about movies & TV Shows and got to know a couple of my new co-workers a bit better.

The afternoon was spent looking at all the great work our team has done lately, and getting my desk area set-up (aka - littering my desk area with photos of Rhys!).

As you can see, I didn't do a whole lot of 'work' on my first day back at work.

Tomorrow, nose to the grindstone!

The worst part of the day was on my bus ride home when the bus driver alerted us that there had been TWO car accidents on our route home, slowing both directions of traffic. Longest bus ride ever. It was torture waiting that long to get home and see Rhys. Luckily that was anomaly and the ride home should be much quicker tomorrow...

Triumphant Return

Back when I was pregnant, and in the early days after Rhys was born, there were 2 questions I was asked a lot, that in my mind kind of contradicted each other. The first was, "Are you taking the full year?". In Canada, working women can take one full year off after their child is born, and the Federal Government will pay them to do it. Seems like a no-brainer. I can think of a handful of reasons why someone would choose to take less than the full year, but I assume most people take it all. The way this question was asked always seemed to imply the thought that 'You're obviously going back to work, but WHEN will you be going back'.

Then came the second question, 'Will you be going back to work?", which was always an annoying question because, hello, my baby is 3 days old! I don't want to think about this right now! And also because, unlike the first question, this one seemed loaded with a hidden agenda, like the person was trying to gage how much I loved my baby, or how important 'being a mom' was to me, or something.

Or, maybe I'm just overly sensitive and people were simply trying to make conversation because they were uncomfortable because my boob was hanging out.

From the get go, my plan was to return to work. My first day back to work is tomorrow, and I've barely had time to process that. With birthdays, and daycare, and ear infections and Folk Fest, July is a blur and I haven't thought about it in too much detail. It will be like pulling off a bandaid, and perhaps that is a good thing.

I'm thankful that daycare is going well, and Rhys will be home with Warren on my first day back. I kind of have that feeling you'd get as a kid, at the end of summer holidays when you had all your new school clothes and new stationary stuff and you had butterflies in your tummy because you couldn't wait to see all your friends, but then after 2 days of being back you realised 'Ick! I'm back at school!' and suddenly you wanted it to be summer again. That's what I'm in for, I expect.

To psyche myself up, I dug up an old blog entry from way back in April 2008.

It was called 10 Things I Love About My Office Job . Maybe in a month or so, I can update the list, but for now it was great for a chuckle.

Now, what does one wear on the first day of her Triumphant Return To The Work Place?

Folk Fest 2010

Over the years - 10 years or so - the Calgary Folk Music Festival has become somewhat of a religion in my family. Warren met my dad for the first time at Folk Fest. I used to wake up really early and head down to Prince's Island park and line up at 6am, before the gates were even open, just so I could rush the main stage with all the other crazies, and lay down our tarps to claim some prime real estate. My program would be marked up with circles and stars mapping out my journey for the day...which stages and which bands I wanted to see. A late afternoon nap under a shady tree wasn't unheard of. I'd saunter lazily through the artist's market and shop for handmade jewelry, scarves and jaunty caps. We'd all warm ourselves with a coffee and the mandatory festival Indian cuisine as the sun set behind the trees. I'd stay until the last song had played, and the last ghostly lantern had winded it's way through the crowd. Only to repeat the ritual the next day.

This year was a bit different.

But equally as special, memorable and worth the effort.

This year, for Warren & I, it wasn't so much about the music. It was more about chasing the shade, finding space for Rhys to explore and keeping everyone hydrated. And with us being the luckiest parents in the world, we also had family around us to help entertain Rhys and give us a break. The weather was glorious. Folk Fest was the perfect backdrop for a family weekend outdoors in the city, and I know each year it will get better and better as Rhys learns to dance and appreciate the worldly grooves. Rhys may have been baptized at 3 months old, but at just over one year old, he's been 'baptized' into the religion of...Folk Fest.

It was also the perfect punctuation mark to my incredible year off.