Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Nissan is the worst, my folks are the best.

WE BOUGHT A CAR, also. I know. I have really been burying the lede with this one. But we bought a car, and not like the last time when we thought we'd bought a car but we hadn't. NISSAAAAAN, I will smear you on every public forum that will let me say words.

So. A few weeks ago, Joel took some vacation time to research and test drive and purchase a car so that I wouldn't be left alone for eight weeks with two children and no vehicle and a rapidly deteriorating weather situation. He settled on a Nissan Versa, signed a contract, put down $2000 and went to the bank (at the salesman's urging) to get a cashier's cheque for the remainder.

Three days later, he was telephoned while at a conference out of town, and informed that Nissan does not in fact have the car they sold us in stock, but would we like to pay many much more moneys for a newer version, or for the version with leather seats and a rearview camera and all kinds of fancy garbage? WE WOULD NOT.

So that was on the weekend, and on the Monday Joel started his rural rotation and would be out of town for eight weeks, during which he would be unable to return to Nissan to have his deposit refunded, or go back to the bank to reverse the cashier's cheque upon which we were now paying interest. SORRY, says Nissan. This is standard practice in the industry, says Nissan. Bullshit, says us. 

And then my parents came to visit and my dad, on our behalf, researched and test drove a bunch of cars and settled on a Fiat Abarth and IT IS TINY AND SEXY AND ZIPPY and it growls at you like a tiger. And also we paid money for it and now it is ours do you understand this concept Nissan I do not think you do.

And then my dad and I ran around town getting the car insured and plated and returning the cashier's cheque and not being able to find the bank and going to Starbucks instead and then finding the bank right beside the Starbucks and then eating a terrible donut at the bank and just hanging out during daytime business hours getting shit done like a couple of bosses.

And then my parents drove our new car out to Rosthern, where Joel is, and picked up our Subaru and brought it back AND PUT WINTER TIRES ON IT AND REORGANIZED OUR GARAGE SO WE COULD FIT BOTH CARS IN IT BECAUSE I HAVE THE BEST PARENTS.

So now Joel has his own car and I HAVE MY OWN CAR and this has never happened to me and I am so elated, I cannot even tell you.

Monday, September 29, 2014

Perking up a little.

Well, so. Some glass-half-full thoughts, then. My house is so clean, you guys. My bathroom is clean, my downstairs is clean, the inside of my fridge is clean. My mom did it all before she left, it's not like I went on some loneliness-fuelled cleaning binge today. Are you kidding? I dragged my ass out of bed all like, WE ARE DOING NOTHING TODAY I HAVE NO MOMENTUM. 

We bummed around the house until Eleanor was out of her mind with boredom, and then we went leaf-collecting to make a leaf-lady.

She has a lovely skirt. Eleanor is thrilled with her. And then Geneva napped for almost three hours this afternoon, because she can't be bothered to be awake in a house this boring, and by the time she woke up it was SUNNY and WARM(ISH) and we went to the park for a picnic but also to kick some leaves around first.

Fall is no summer, but it is GLORIOUS IN ITS OWN RIGHT.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

It's very, very quiet.

We usually travel to BC, because then we can see everyone without everyone having to fly to where we are.

And we love being the ones to whom people travel, not least because I am sitting in my sweat pants, drinking a glass of wine, while my parents and my sister and her baby board a plane for a flight and then a layover and then another flight and then a longish drive.

But while traveling is hard, returning home is almost purely delightful. Being left at home is not.

An hour ago my house had eight people in it. Five adults, one toddler, and two babies. Three of them left for the airport, one left to continue his rural rotation, and two of them went to bed.

I am that bizarre mixture of relieved to have my own space again, and very sad. Tomorrow it's just me and my ladies, doing our thing, changing all our own diapers and making all our own meals, and counting down til the next visitors.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Funs and tricks

We're showing off all our stuff. This is our library. 

And this is our tumbling class. 

And this is our farmer's market.

And this is how you do spitties. 

Like this. 

Like this. 

Like this. 

Monday, September 22, 2014

So far, so very good.

Our visit is going splendidly. Eleanor is over the moon. Look at all these grandparents she has!

Look at all these babies! 

Look at this fried onion loaf. 

Narm narm narm. 

Saturday, September 20, 2014

The waiting truly is the hardest part.

My parents and my sister and her baby are coming for a visit tomorrow and I have been DYING. The week leading up to a visit or a trip is always agony because I want them to be here now. This time I planned hella activities for the week, and my parents arranged for us to have a vehicle, so we have been BUSY. Eleanor has gymnastics on Wednesdays, and she continues to love it.

Yesterday we went to the hay bale maze with Josie and her kids because SEASONAL ACTIVITIES THAT ALSO ARE FREE. 

So festive.

Look at Geneva's tiny mug. Getting pictures with all of these kids, I mean.

And then today Joel was at a conference so Eleanor and I ran a 2k.

It was FANTASTIC. There was face painting.

There was a bouncy castle.

There was burgers.

It was basically a festival where we ran for a bit in the middle. Eleanor ran or galloped ('I'm a donkey! We poop in the road!') for probably two-thirds of the way, and no one has ever been as pleased to be cheered on by volunteers as she was.

The Mogathon, you guys. I recommend it. Now we just have to sleep and then make it through tomorrow morning. Waitiiiiiiiiing.

Friday, September 19, 2014

Tasty treat.

At first Geneva was like, I dunno

but then she was like, Okayyyyy

and then she was like, NAHHHHHRM

and then she was like, TWO-HANDED NAHHHHHHHRM

and then she was like, Oh broccoli. I treasure you.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

We are well.

Friends, you are so kind. And I don't want you to think we aren't doing ok. We have had a SPLENDID summer. We have THRILLING PLANS for fall. And we have excellent friends. Last night, Joel was on call out of town, so Josie invited us out for a park BBQ with her husband and kids, her parents, her friend Jen who is also my second cousin, Jen's husband and kids. It was a CROWD. 

And Josie's mom held my baby while I fed my toddler a hot dog, and everyone romped in the park. And as we're leaving, right at the moment that I'm packing the stroller into the car and thinking, This is the point at which it is useful to have two sets of hands, Josie is there saying, Hey Eleanor, let's get you into the car.

Also, Geneva has gone from being a liability that I'm just trying to make sleep all the time to an ACTUAL HUMAN PERSON who laughs at basically everything (but mostly Eleanor) and whose likes include STANDING and LOOKING AROUND AT STUFF and REALLY INEXPERTLY GRABBING AT THINGS. She puts herself to sleep under her own power, and after I've tumbled both my children into bed in the evening and am sitting down with some ice cream, listening to them both murmel themselves to sleep, I feel like a parenting badass.

Also, I gave Geneva a pear slice to suck on, and I kept trying to take it away and she kept being like, NO, GIVE IT ME. She's not that far from eating Proper Real Foods, which will decrease the number of times per day I have to suckle her. Eat that pear, Geneva Wren. Eat it good.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Happy photos, sad talkings.

I got my hands on Joel's camping photos. You love it.

So here is a thing: I have mild Post-Partum Anxiety. This is a different thing from Post-Partum Depression, and is also not a thing I knew existed until I had it. You know what ELSE I didn't know existed? Dysmorphic Milk Ejection Reflex, which I have just been referring to as the Breastfeeding Sads because it's shorter and I can never remember all the words in that first thing. But instead of feeling majestic and triumphant and kind of smug when I breastfeed, I feel horribly, horribly sad. Also, like I might barf. I remember telling Joel, shortly after Geneva was born, I think I'm SICK or possibly PREGNANT AGAIN. I feel nauseated ALL the TIME.

Between the anxiety and the feeling overwhelmingly depressed at (what felt like) random times (because I'm not just sad when I breastfeed, I'm sad about 30 seconds before WHENEVER my milk lets down, so there I am, walking along and trying to figure out when I'll have to feed Geneva next and if I have time to go to the store first and then boom, feelings of cavernous hole in chest, feelings of barfiness, and then the boobs go off), I started to think I should maybe tell someone. Then Robin Williams killed himself and I made an appointment with my doctor.

There's nothing really you can do, either, except for the things you do for regular depression. Go outside, get exercise, get rest. But I have these two kids, and Joel is gone a lot right now, so I don't have a lot of time for either exercise or rest. And because of the anxiety, I don't WANT to go outside. If it hadn't been summer, if I hadn't been so opposed to missing out on the best season in Saskatoon, if I hadn't had a toddler who needed frequent airings, I would just have stayed inside with my nerves and read Pride and Prejudice.

D-MER has only been recognized as a Thing, medically, for the last couple of years, so there isn't a lot of research about treatment through drugs. Plus I don't feel like I'm going to hurt myself or my kids, I don't feel like I can't cope, and it's mostly for 10-15 minutes at a time, a few times a day. I DO feel like locking myself in the baby's room because Eleanor keeps talking at me and I'm just trying to feel sad and feed Geneva at the same time. Sorry, Eleanor.

And it's too bad, because I kind of love breastfeeding. I thought I would hate it, before I had kids, but it's so satisfying and HILARIOUS. Geneva always gets all like HNNNNN HNN HNNN HNNNNN with frantic delight when I sit down with her across my lap, and then goes at the boob with ferocity. But the thing that helps me cope with this more than anything else is the finiteness, because if it never gets better on its own, it will at least get better in about eight months when I wean this baby.

So...there's that.