Perhaps you thought we decided not to have Auntie Calla do a photo shoot for this one? Not on your life. In fact, this one was much easier because everyone was more laid back. Second children, folks—much easier than the first!
More pictures soon. Promise.
…and then my heart exploded.
P.S. Let’s hear it for Hubby who shot these from the hip.
Alright folks, I’m working on my Hudson’s Bay Inspired Baby Blanket, and I’ve hit a bit of a snag. I love the Philosopher’s Wool that I’m using, but the green is not quite right, and a little too close to the blue. I’ve bought some yarns that are better in terms of colour, but then they’re lacking in that woolly texture that I like in the rest of the blanket. What do you think? Do I favour colour or texture? Which colour do you like best?
From bottom to top: Philosopher’s Wool in Alberta Green, Cascade 220 #2409, Galway #17
The rumours are true. Expect another little face plastered all over this blog come early summer. Samson is hoping for a duck to come out of Mumma’s tummy. He was not too happy with the first image of the little duckling.
And now to important issues. How do you feel about finding out the sex of the baby? We found out with Samson, and I have to admit, I had a moment of – I won’t call it disappointment. Perhaps it was just a readjustment of my thinking? No, if I’m going to be totally honest, the actual moment my midwifery student told me I was having a boy, I sank a bit in my seat. Oh. Even though I had had a feeling—the ultrasound picture looked like a boy. And I didn’t really care. I know that we just hope for what we know. But I let out a brave OH! like I was excited. My midwife feigned excitement and moved on. I think she’s generally against the finding out of gender. She doesn’t say what the baby is at birth, but rather lets the parents check when they are ready. She told a story in our prenatal class that has stuck with me. A couple were told they were having a boy. When the baby was born, she was a girl. The father was making all the necessary calls telling family and friends the baby had been born, but he would constantly edit their excitement saying, “–BUT it’s a girl.” The little girl was in the room and could feel that negative energy, claims my midwife.
After I got the news I was having a boy, I worried – about what to knit for a boy, about how to deal with a penis. Then I made my peace. I bought little boy clothes. I decorated his room how I wanted, not worrying about how a boy’s room is supposed to look. Then Samson was born and it was all fine and (of course) I fell instantly in love. And now I kind of want to be a champion for these little boys who seem to be left behind in today’s society. I want to make sure they thrive and become healthy, happy gentlemen. For goodness sake—I can tell you the difference between a hopper car and a tender. Girls scare me a bit. Obviously girls don’t have to be whiney or screechy or cry the minute they fall down, and some might be into trains too, and to some extent their attitude reflects how they’re raised, but I believe there is a part of our nature that is inherent to our sex. Samson was brought up neutrally—he had access to dolls and stuffed animals, but trains and trucks were always much more interesting.
So am I hoping for a particular sex? No. I have pleasant associations with each sex that may come out. But after Samson I said I wouldn’t find out for the second child. First, because I figure this is how we’ve been doing this for centuries and it’s the greatest surprise you’ll ever get, so why not? Second, I wanted to avoid that moment of “disappointment”. I figured after labour I’ll be so happy to have the little bugger out I won’t have time to really dwell on whether it’s a he or a she. And third, for a purely monetary reason I don’t want to be tempted to buy stuff for a girl. If I don’t know, I won’t spend. But you know—then you start your second pregnancy and you feel like crap and your skin breaks out when it never does, and suddenly people start telling you you’re having a girl. And you don’t start to hope exactly, but you start to live with the thought–what if this is a girl?
As luck would have it, a good friend of mine is pregnant with her second at the same time as me, and we’ve been discussing this issue. She claims three things: 1. “Disappointment” can only get worse after nine months of thinking and guessing and waiting. Fair enough. 2. If you know you’re only going to have two kids (as she and I are probably going to do), it’s natural and even healthy to “mourn” the loss of a girl (in our case, since we both have boys). Our childbearing time is passing, as is our chance for an experience with a girl. Once we have that period of mourning, we can move on, and love the little fellow that’s actually in our womb. Point taken. 3. You can save a lot of energy if you only have to think about names for one gender. I hear that.
I still can’t decide what to do. What do you think?
People, I just got surprised by some film I got back from the lab. I was expecting mostly recent photos, but instead I got a pile of gems from the last year and a half (plus). Some of the shots were taken so long ago, I thought I got someone else’s film. There are some from last year’s trip to Poland, some with the baby Buddy, and even one from a film I worked on in another life.
July 11, 2010 and July 11, 2011. Same face.
And, I can’t NOT post this one. Also from July 11, 2010.
July 8th, Samson attended his first concert: The Flaming Lips at the Molson Amphitheatre. He liked the big balloons. Two guys sitting next to us caught one of them for him so he could see it up close. He fell asleep towards the end with minimal fussing. We (as parents) were a huge hit. People stopped us to tell us we were the BEST parents, Hubby got to flirt with ladies swooning over the baby, and I saw men noticing Samson and nudging their girlfriends to look at the baby. That’s partly because he looked super cute in his ear muffs, which also guaranteed it looked like we thought through the whole bringing-a-baby-to-a-concert thing right to the end. Honestly, we never thought twice about bringing him, because we expected to see more babies—especially at this venue, where usually you can get lawn seats. And if there was any reaction I was expecting it was one more of annoyance from other concert goers. I’m not going to go on too much about preparedness and over-thinking things as a parent, but I really think the best experiences your parents can offer you are the ones they didn’t think twice about—all that stuff that doesn’t come out of a book, but just seems natural.
Mothers of babies! Mothers of babies with dogs! And specifically mothers of babies with dogs who live in old houses!
HOW DO YOU KEEP UP WITH YOUR HOUSEWORK? (READ: HOW DO YOU STAY SANE?!)
I vacuum at least once a week, I mop/sweep the floor every other day, and still, when my baby drops a piece of banana on the floor it’s speckled with fur, his knees and feet are black from crawling and his bum looks like this:
Or worse. This picture isn’t so bad. It was taken either early on in the crawling, or I had just swept.
So tell me: what brand of crazy am I? Am I crazy to expect a baby to be perfectly clean after crawling around on the floor all day? Or am I the only one who sees the dirt?