10 things my dog and I have in common

1) We rarely complain about our sore knees, but we never turn down an opportunity to have them massaged.

2) We are hopelessly in love with D.

3) Shedding is a skill we excel at.

4) Hot summer weather makes us grumpy. Cool autumn weather improves our mood considerably. Cold winter weather makes us deliriously happy. Snow causes us to act drunk with joy.

5) We are avid nature nuts. Splashing around in the river, crunching leaves and twigs on the trails, squelching mud between our toes in the fields: it's all good.

6) There's nothing we'd rather do than spend a solid hour kissing Jade.

7) We find few things more satisfying than a good, long walk along the beach at sunset.

8) We approach food with gusto.

9) We are both highly skilled at the fine art of napping.

10) Loyalty is our prime directive.

Merry merry!

One sister arrived from Australia last week, and the other arrived from the 'Cow a few days ago...so I've been a happy, busy little camper and blogville hasn't been on the tour as of late. Don't worry though - I'll be back moaning to you in bloggy form come January when they've both abandoned me again. (sigh)

Sissy and I decorated our tree on Sunday. We are woefully behind in all things Christmas-decorating related and D only cut down our tree on Saturday afternoon. It's amazing how different Christmas preparations become when you have a Jady Lady in your life! Last year, I had the decorations up, cookies baked, jam made, presents purchased and wrapped all well before the 25th. This year...well, I'm just thankful we have a tree at all!

This year, I used violet and green bulbs (yes, it's a not very subtle homage to Jade Violet), along with the antique Russian glass ornaments my sister in law got me last year. I thought it looked pretty. Kind of minimalist. Then I proceeded to wreck the entire effect by tinselating the darn thing. Sissy said the tree looked "naked" without tinsel. I never use the stuff, but found a mound of it in a bin and did what I thought was a bang-up tinselly job. D came in, took one look and informed me it looked as though a boy in a hurry had done the tinsel job. He kindly removed the offending gobs of shiny stuff and patiently showed me the proper way to hang it - one bloody strand at a time!? No wonder I never use the stuff.

So, here it is, the eve before Christmas eve. I've finished my wrapping, written my "to do" list for tomorrow, the fire is pleasantly warm and I'm dog-tired. Jady is going to waken up any second now for a feed, so I think I'll eat a few chocolate Turtles and head to bed. With any luck, D will join me and we'll have a good night's sleep before the festivities begin. Merry Christmas to all my friends in Bloggerland - have a wonderful holiday and try to be nicer than naughty.

Sleepless at Someday...again

Things I like to do when I can't sleep:
1) Write letters to people in my head. Most of the time, they are witty, harmless epistles to my favourite pen pals E and K, but sometimes they're poisonous, vitriolic notes dripping with hate and bitterness. Mostly to companies where I've received sub-par customer service.

2) Think of all the things I wish I'd said to my ex when he left me. Sometimes I play out the scenarios in my head. They usually come across as campy soap-opera type scenes where I am full of righteous anger and say cutting things while he just stands there, mute and helpless. Not especially productive or healing, but it's reallllly fun. Especially when I simply have to roll over to see the absolute best man in the world sleeping beside me.

3) Drive. I know, I know, it's the STUPIDEST thing to do when one is tired, cranky, worried, etc. I've actually given up the practice ever since I was pulled over by a cop in Point Clark for driving around late at night without my headlights on. Oopsie. I was tired and upset and incoherent. Luckily, he figured out I wasn't drunk and was very kind. But he insisted on following me back to my brother-in-law's place (where we were living at the time) because I couldn't find where D had put the ownership. Ah yes, there's nothing like having your brother-in-law wake up to find a cop in his front foyer.

4) Go down to the kitchen and eat whatever I can get my hands on. Olives. Cheesies. Ice cream out of the carton. My husband's lunch. Food tastes oh-so-delicious when it's eaten sneakily and stealthily in the middle of the night. (Even better than eating it in the bathtub!)

5) Count my blessings. I like to think about the first time I danced with D, in the hallway at the U of W during our first ever salsa lesson. Or the way Jade fit perfectly on my chest every night we slept at the hospital after she was born. The way my friend R snorts when she laughs and the crazy sense of humour both my sisters have. How beautiful the sun looks against my bedroom wall on an autumn morning. How lucky I am to have a big, comfy bed to sleep in.

In praise of...the bath

I keep forgetting to contribute to my "In praise of" blog series. It was supposed to be a monthly homage to the good stuff in life, but I think I missed November entirely. Oopsie. It certainly isn't because I don't have enough good stuff in my life, either. Nope, life is rife with the good stuff; just not rife with writing/blogging time it seems.

Anyway, today I will wax poetic about THE BATH. Last week D and I stayed at the London Armories hotel, and there was a glorious, deep, marble tub in our room that we promptly made use of. I'd almost forgotten how amazing it is to float shoulder-deep in hot water for an hour. We've been having some water issues at Someday, so I've avoided the bath because I don't want my skin to turn a brilliant rusty orange the way our toilets have from the iron in the water. But spending some time in the bath has inspired me to sing its praises...

- A bath is the ultimate mood enhancer. Anxious about the presentation you have to give tomorrow? Upset about a romance gone sour? Screaming baby making your hair fall out? The bath is the answer, my friend. As soon as you start running the water, your shoulders will release themselves from their hiding place beside your ears. Drop your clothing on the floor and you'll feel your breath start to deepen. Sink into the luxurious warmth of a full tub and all the nastiness of life seems to disappear, if only for an hour or two. Add a few candles and a glass of wine, and you've got yourself a few hours of pure, simple bliss. Ahhhhh....

- Food tastes better in the bath. Eat in the bath, you say? Oh yes. And somehow, eating and drinking in the bathtub makes everything taste better. Red wine becomes silkier, popcorn is crispier, apple slices are tangier, chocolate is...um...chocolate-y-er. I think it's because eating in the tub is a bit taboo, kind of like eating in bed. And we all know that doing something slightly naughty is just plain fun. Don't believe me? Try floating a plastic bowl of buttered popcorn beside you in the tub next time you climb in and see if you don't agree. The only downside is fishing out the mushy bits that don't make it to your mouth.

- You get to be naked. There just aren't enough acceptable times and places a person can be naked and feel completely relaxed; the bath is an exception. Not only are you supposed to be naked, it would be weird if you weren't. So look down, appreciate your wonderful naked self - wrinkles, hairy bits, freckles and saggies and all! Our bodies are pretty cool things and treating them to a nice, warm bath is a good way to show yourself you care.

- Your voice becomes magically enhanced. Singing in the bath is even better than singing in the shower, because your voice carries up from the depths of the tub and bounces off the water. I can easily become Beyonce when I'm in the tub. Or at least one of those nerdy kids from Glee.

- You can be alone. Perfectly, wonderfully alone. You can close the door. You can even lock it if you have such a luxury. Baths are times for solitude and reflection. Unless, of course, you have a big ol' tub with room for a friend. But that's a whole different blog entry.

Recipes for the vegetarian lurking in all of us....

Well, everyone except my Dad, that is. I'm pretty sure Mr. Feick, Hunter At Large, doesn't have a vegetarian bone in his 73 year old body.

It's been a while since I've posted a recipe or two on this blog, and a combo of having had a recent visit from my best vegetarian pal R and a read through Phil Bean's latest blog entry have reminded me that it's time.

I think I've mentioned that I'm a lapsed vegetarian; if it wasn't for the fact that a) bacon is so darned delicious, and b) I married a former dairy farmer, I think I could have progressed far into the lands of meatless bliss. But I haven't, and I likely won't. Yet I do love veggie recipes, and I've taken to subjecting my husband to one or two meatless meals a week. It goes something like this:

D: "Hey, this looks good. What is it?"
Me: "Oh, just some (mushroom) Spaghetti sauce/(bulgar) chili/ (black bean & yam) burritos/ (ricotta & spinach) casserole." (I omit all words in brackets and smile brightly.)
D: "Mmmm." (Takes a forkful, nearly gets it into his mouth. Stops. Inspects it as though he is an entomologist discovering a new bug.) "Heyyyyyy, waitaminute...where's the meat??!"

D is not a picky soul, bless his meat-loving heart, and he always eats what I cook with little complaint, despite a few jabs about Greenpeacers. I've even won him over to the dark side (e.g. where he says, in a shocked tone, "Wow Kim, this is really good stuff. I mean, I could eat a lot of this.") with a couple of recipes, which I'll now share with you. The only thing I ask in return is that you share a couple with me!

Chicky Salad
1 can chick peas, rinsed & drained
1 large tomato, chopped (or two big handfuls of grape tomatoes, halved)
1/4 cup minced sweet or red onion
1 cup fresh bocconcini mozzarella balls (I use the big ones and tear them up, but you can use mini ones and leave 'em whole)
a handful of fresh basil, torn
three good glugs of olive oil
juice from 1/2 lemon
salt & pepper

Mix it all together & let stand at room temp for 1/2 hour before serving. If you're going to refrigerate, add the tomatoes at the last minute. Refreshing, nutritious and easy.

Avocado and Egg Salad Toasties
1 large ripe avocado, peeled & chopped
4 hard boiled eggs, chopped
3 tbsp good mayonnaise
2 green onions, chopped (or chives, or regular onion)
1 tomato, chopped
squeeze of fresh lemon juice
salt and pepper
4 slices of your favourite bread

Mush the avocado, egg and mayo together. Season with salt and pepper. Add all other ingredients and mix well. Slather on toasted bread. Mmmmm...rich and delicious.

High five, Dr. Ferber!

Finally: Mummy - 1, Jady - 0!

Well, I guess it's more of a win-win situation. Ye olde Ferber method worked LIKE A CHARM. Baby Jade cried violently for the first night only, and has slept like an angel ever since. Clever baby. Clever Mummy. Clever Dr. Ferber.

Nighty night!

Help me, Dr. Ferber...you're my only hope

Call me cruel, call me unfeeling, call me a bad bad mummy. We are Ferberizing this kid, and the process starts PRONTO.

I used to brag that I had the best little baby in the world, because up until a month ago, Jade usually went to bed around 9pm, got up once at 3am and then slept until 8am. "What a good baby!" people would exclaim when I proudly told them she only got up once. Yes, she was my good, smart, perfect child. Until she turned 5 months old, that is, and began to display a penchant for partying in the wee hours.

I don't mind getting up once a night to feed and change her, but 3 and 4 times gets to be a little much. I become Zombie Mummy, Jade becomes Miss Crankypants, and together we don't win any congeniality contests. Ferberization began to sound pretty good.

Ferberizing, for those of you not up to date on your kiddie psychobabble, is a method of sleep training where you let your baby cry in small increments, while reassuring her that you are still there, you still love her and it's okay for her to GO TO SLEEP. The trick is that you don't crack and pick her up. That's what she wants you to do. That's what she knows YOU want to do. So you have to fight every instinct in your body that is commanding you to go and seize your screaming child in your arms. Instead, you have to fight nature and let her "cry it out," as they say in Ferber parlance.

Several of my friends have used this method with great success. Several others, proponents of attachment parenting, think I am sick and cruel. My step-mom, who is a nurse, applauds Ferber, but I have a feeling that my mother-in-law is in the second camp, although - to her credit - she rarely offers advice. But you can tell a lot from the tone of a MIL's "Oh?" in response to your declaration that you plan to let her beloved granddaughter cry herself to sleep.

Our first attempt at the whole Ferber thing occurred last night. Jady Lady sleeps in a crib in our room (Daddy's idea) which makes the whole process even trickier. D is a big softie and I was hoping he'd sleep in the Blue room so as not to disturb my resolve, but he stayed put and admirably held fast to the rules. I fed Jade at 10:30, then again at 2:30, but when the fussing began at 4:45am, I said a silent prayer to Dr. Ferber and let her cry for the recommended 3 minutes before going over to give her a comforting pat. I went back to bed. The crying turned to screams of rage. D and I clung to each other; neither of us needed to say a word, but we were both thinking, "LET GO OF ME! I MUST GO AND PICK UP MY BABY! MY BABY NEEDS ME! LET GO OF ME!!!" We tightened our grip on each other.

At the 5 minute mark, I went and talked to Jade again. The screams turned to shrieks so loud my eardrums reverberated. Same thing at the 9 minute mark, and the 12 minute mark. But at the 15 minute mark, her shrieks subsided into angry hiccuping sobs, punctuated by the familiar "squish squish" sound of Jade sucking the heck out of her favourite two fingers (think Maggie Simpson's soother sound, but wetter). She was still ticked off, but had figured out that screaming wasn't going to help. And she slept through until 7am. Whoo hoo! Best of all, when I asked her this morning if she still liked Mummy, she gave me her signature gummy grin and squealed. Phew.

Tonight is Return to Ferber Mountain; let's hope it goes smoothly. If we crack now, baby Jade will know she rules the roost and that won't do us any favours now...or in 16 years!