It’s not news anymore, the fact that 17 alleged would-be terrorists were arrested in Ontario over the weekend. I’ve been wanting to write something about it, but it’s been one of those weeks and between Breanna’s frustration over her teeth coming in, combined with almost being able to crawl now, and Hayley seeing just how much she can get away with before she pushes it too far, I just haven’t had a moment to be overly coherent. And really, I’m not sure I can really even promise to be coherent now either, but I’ll try.

I’m not going to go over all the details of what happened. I think everyone in Canada is aware of it, and a lot of American news shows have been covering it as well. A quick Google search will tell you what you need to know. The short version is that apparently there was a plot to target various Toronto landmarks, such as the CN tower and the stock exchange, blowing them up a la suicide bomber. Also, recent information has come out that there were plans as well to storm the parliament buildings in Ottawa to kidnap politicians there, and to behead our prime minister.

There are two things that have really angered me over the past few days in regard to the fallout effects. Never mind the anger that there are people who would actually do these things, plot them out and carry them out to the end. What else angers me?

1. The arrogance of some of the citizens. There were some news-from-the-streets interviews where people told reporters their candid reactions to the news. So many of them used comments like being utterly “shocked” and “in disbelief” that this sort of terrorism “could happen here”. What?

Before September 11th, yes. I would have been shocked. I was beyond shocked that morning watching the attacks on the WTC in downtown New York. Since then I have always known it could happen here. I don’t walk around terrified about what may happen, but I knew it was always a possibility. American society is more talked about in the news but Canada isn’t really all that different, at least not as far as an extremist is concerned; we still represent the same Western civilization freedoms that terrorists hate. Why WOULDN’T it happen here too?

Obviously I am beyond relieved that it was stopped. But I would never say that I was shocked that it nearly happened.

2. And maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am horrified by the backlash towards the Muslim community. I believe it was in Toronto where a mosque was vandalized the other day. I’m sure it isn’t the only one either. I am so angry by the reaction. It was not Muslims as a whole who plotted this terrorism act; it was a group of extremists who happen to say they are practicing Islam. Guess what? They are not the only ones who have ever claimed to be killing in the name of a god. Have you HEARD of the Crusades? Talk about killing under the blanket of religion. Moses himself killed some of his own people in the name of the Christian god.

If you study Islam at all, it’s not a violent religion. It follows many of the same rules and guidelines as Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism… Most major religions have startling similarities. Nowhere in Islam does it say that you should kill those who are not exactly like you. You can’t judge the religion based on the extremists. Would Christians want their religion to be judged according to the disgusting actions of Fred Phelps or the people behind the “lovely” computer game, Left Behind – Eternal Forces, where your goal is to either convert or kill those who haven’t been saved? I doubt it.

Please. Stop taking it out on average Muslims. I am certain they are just as appalled as anyone.

And that’s as coherent as my brain will allow at this hour.

So today, June 6th is also a 666 of sorts. The re-make of The Omen is being released today, I think it’s Slayer that is launching a new tour tonight, and some women had elective c-sections yesterday to make sure they didn’t go into labor and deliver today, while others have claimed they’ll name their baby Damien if they give birth today. And of course, as you’d expect, there are groups of religious zealots who are expecting today to be the start of the Apocalypse, even though it didn’t happen back in 1906.

I’m no zealot so I’m not really expecting anything out of the ordinary to happen today, though our humidex of 32C may make the park feel a little hellish. Still, I can’t help but wish I knew for sure; I have a bunch of dishes to do but really, if the world IS going to end, I’d hate to waste my last day washing them. 🙂

Bonus reading: This gave me a good chuckle with the tips on what to do to avoid or deal with a 666 birth.

1. I guess everyone has a unique scent. Breanna’s? Her head smells like fresh bread. My favorite is after I’ve washed her hair and then I curl up with her and stick my nose right in her hair and she smells like faint Johnson’s and warm, fresh bread. I have no idea why and George thinks I’m a little crazy. It’s entirely possible that he’s right. But I still think of a bakery when I sniff her head.

2. Today we went to the park again and I was sitting with the girls in one of those playhouse slide things. It has two connecting sections with a tunnel to crawl through in the middle. Hayley was peering over the side at the outside of the tunnel and she said, “Hey there’s a word here! It has an M. M for Mommy, Mommy. I think it says Mommy!”

Later, when it was time to move on to the monkey bars, out of curiosity I looked over the side. It did indeed have an “M”. In actuality though, it said, “Motherfucker”. Eh, close enough.

Today I had an interesting experience with Breanna, one I had never had with Hayley, and by “interesting” I really mean “GOD I hope that never happens again, please and thank you”.

She was sitting all nice and serene on my lap, having a leisurely Sunday morning nursing session. When she was done she looked up at me with big smiles and waves of the arms. It was a pleasant moment, a true bonding connection.

After a few minutes of saying “ahhh” in response to my commentaries, she flashed her hands at me, the signal she gives when she wants me to either pick her up or help her to get into a sitting or standing position; it looks a lot like the sign for milk, except that instead of holding her hand up facing me, she keeps them facing up, almost like she’s saying “come on come ON”. She learned it because I inadvertantly did it while trying to get her to give me her hands, not thinking about how this could become confusing when I try to teach her how to sign for milk. Alas. Anyway, that’s not the point.

So she’s flashing her “help me up” hands at me and wriggling in my lap. I put my hands under her arms and started to ease her up into a sitting position so she could look around or perhaps better reach my glasses to rip them from my face. That’s when I realized she was quite possibly wriggling because she had pooped. And although we usually have little to no trouble with our brand of diapers, something went horribly wrong, like “Houston, we have a PROBLEM” wrong, because I’d guess that approximately 75% of what should have remained IN her diaper was in fact ON MY LEG.

Did I mention that she ate a great deal of banana yesterday and that babies-on-solids have far more frightening poops that breastfed-only babies?

Did I also mention that I was wearing shorts and her butt had been positioned over my bare leg?

Did I mention that you might have wanted to skip this post if you were eating? No? My bad. Oh well, if you’re a mom you probably aren’t bothered in the least and have carried on with eating your donuts.

I’m so happy that Hayley was here and co-operative. I got her to bring me the changing pad, a blanket, and a roll of toilet paper. Then I sent her into the bathroom to get the cream baby cleanser that doesn’t require water (I can’t tell you enough times how useful no-rinse cleanser is for diaper blow-outs). I sat on the floor, with Breanna standing on the changing pad wondering how to navigate this disaster. Finally I just laid her down and did it as fast as I could. I must confess though, I cleaned my leg off before I went near her. Then I kept one hand cleaning and tearing off more toilet paper, the other frantically putting one toy after another into Breanna’s hands so they wouldn’t wind up in her scary diaper.

It took some effort, but in the end I got her cleaned up quickly (while Hayley alternated between wanting to see what was going on and being horrified). I swear she looked up at me from the floor and smiled broadly as I then used the cleanser to clean my leg a little more. She was very happy after it was all over. No kidding, I would be too.

I remember reading over on Amalah’s site about how Noah had pooped all over her jeans and the couch and oh, how I laughed at the great way she told the story. And I made the horrible mistake of being grateful that although Hayley had pooped on my pants once or twice, it was just a little and such a thing of epic proportions had never happened to me. Karma is a bitch, baby. And Amy? Just breathe a sigh of relief that it was your jeans. Bare leg SUCKS so much more than fabric.

(Also, I wonder if I should confess that I couldn’t remember when she wrote it and thus found it again by doing a Google search for “Amalah poop pants couch” or if I should not say anything at all and let her wonder what kind of sick lunatics troll her site.)

There are some things that no one tells you about being a mother. And there are some things that no one tells you because you just wouldn’t believe it if they did.

For the most part I think Breanna is already growing up too fast. Already her wobbly and precarious sitting has been replaced by an ability to sit without any help for a really long time. This morning she sat and played ball with Hayley for ten minutes before she leaned too far and toppled over; Hayley would roll her the ball and Breanna would pick it up, scratch it, taste it, chew it, and then she’d drop it and flail her legs until she kicked it back. Other times she can spend at least ten minutes “walking” – I’ll hold her hands, she’ll pull herself up and start marching while I help her move around thhe room.

So I keep looking at her and wondering what happened to the baby who barely even moved and wasn’t aware of much other than being hungry or being tired.

But there are a few phases I’m looking forward to saying good-bye to. I can live without the hair pulling phase. Even with my hair in a constant ponytail, she manages to find some to yank on. It’s a completely normal baby thing but holy ow. Another one? The rip the glasses off Mom’s face and toss them phase. Also perfectly normal baby behavior but my poor glasses! I’m not used to it either because when Hayley was a baby I wore my contacts most of the time; my contacts are so old that I only wear them if I’m going out so my glasses are on most of the day (except when they’re being flung across the room).

But most of all I look forward to the end of the spit-up days. It’s certainlly not her fault, but wiping up spit-up milk from the floor and the chairs is getting old, as is putting on a clean shirt only to have it puked on minutes later. Yesterday the poor thing was all of two minutes out of the bath when she spit up all over her nekkid self. Sheesh. It’s not as bad as Hayley’s spitting up; when she was a baby, she spit up so much that I took her to the doctor three times before I finally believed that she was perfectly fine and I compulsively kept an eye on her weight gain to make sure she wasn’t losing what with all the milk that was constantly coming back up. And I only ever bother with a bib for Breanna when she’s having solids, whereas Hayley could deasily go through five or more bibs in one day (and outfits. And receiving blankets. Oh, the *laundry*.). Still, it’s frequent enough with Breanna that I look forward to it ending.

It’s funny how we want them to slow down with the growing up yet we can’t wait to move out of certain things. Please stay my baby except for this small list of things.

I wish someone could explain to me why the hell my six-month-old baby is currently wearing a set of overall shorts for an 18-month-old – not to mention that the straps *just barely* fit her height.

Who the hell are these Amazon children I keep giving birth to?!

You know, I understand that Breanna is trying REALLY hard to learn to crawl (and she’s so close that if she does it within the next week I won’t be surprised – first she tries by lifting her butt up and moving her legs. Then she tries by lifting her chest up and moving her arms. As soon as she figures out that she needs to do both at the same time, she’ll be off like a shot.) and it consumes her brain most of the time, unless she’s thinking about how to get me to hold her hands and let her walk all wobbly-like around the living room.

I get it. It’s a near-constant obsession. Great.

BUT WAKING UP AT 4:15 AM IS NOT THE TIME TO PRACTICE. MOMMY IS SLEEPING AT 4:15 AND WE DO NOT TRY TO CRAWL FOR OVER AN HOUR IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.

She was still awake when George got ready for work and then she fell asleep shortly afterwards, so that means about 5:30 or so (our power went out for about one minute last night so my clock wasn’t working; the only way I could tell the time was to check the weather network on tv and by then I just didn’t care what time it was but George leaves by 5:30 so I had a rough idea).

Luckily Hayley didn’t get up until just a little before 7 so I got a bit of sleep but holy hell, I feel like a zombie right now. Good thing I accidentally fell asleep at 10 last night because I needed that extra hour or two of sleep to deal with the spontaneous wake-up.

YAWN. Can someone make me a coffee?

Tonight, just after dishing our skillet meal on plates, steaming some vegetables, and getting beverages ready, I quickly mixed up some grub for Breanna. I wasn’t sure if she’d actually eat anything (and actually, she did! Happily!) but I figured it might keep her semi-occupied while we had dinner. And as I stirred the food up for her, I thought of the television show This Is Daniel Cook (side note – the show itself is take it or leave it with me, but their website is awesome if you have young kids; Hayley can spend an eternity over there).

Yesterday, I watched an episode with Hayley, and Daniel was visiting a farm. A woman taught him the proper way to milk a cow, and then discussed the differences between the fresh, whole milk and the kind you buy in a store, as well as all the other things that you can make with the milk. And I suddenly realized that although there is probably a bit of a trial and error process, I bet that any woman who is a mother could successfully milk a cow if she has ever stood in the kitchen and expressed milk into a little pink plastic bowl to add to rice cereal flakes.

Yes, these are indeed the things that my few remaining brain cells gather together to contemplate.

I bet I would rock at milking cows.

When I first heard that there was a blogging book tour going on for Jennifer Margulis‘ book Why Babies Do That, I was interested in getting in on the fun because I thought it was a fascinating alternative for an author rather than going from store to store. I e-mailed her earlier this month to see if she was interested in a virtual stop on my blog and was thrilled that she was.

The book is really great for a number of reasons. For one thing, it’s not long. If there’s anything a new mother learns, it’s that all the parenting books in the world won’t help you if you can’t read it in five-minute bursts. A book that can be read after you run screaming for the bathroom, locking the door behind you for some illusion (delusion?) of privacy is what you need.

For another thing, the images alone can kill you. There will not be a third child in this family, I assure you, but some of the accompanying pictures are so incredibly sweet and endearing that your biological clock may just tick loudly in your head. The picture that goes with the question “Why Do Babies Cry Without Tears?” nearly made my ovaries explode. On the other hand, there’s also an appropriate picture to go along with “Why Do Newborn Babies Have Poop That is Mustard-Colored and Seedy Looking?” so it all evens out in the end.

Finally, the book is useful, unlike most of the parenting books out there. Basically, I think most parents do know that most of the things in this book are perfectly normal (even if they’re bizarre), but the book explains WHY. Even as a second-time-around parent, where it takes a bit more to phase me now, it’s nice to read the reasons behind a baby’s peculiar behavior. As a bonus, it’s a concise answer – each question and answer takes up one page for the most part, occasionally one and a half. There’s no need to read for three chapters to understand why your baby enjoys playing with her own poop, and when you’re sleep deprived, the abridged version is always preferable.

It’s a great book to buy as a baby shower gift but even mothers who have been there and done that will probably enjoy it just as much.

If there’s ever a second edition, say, Even More Why Babies Do That I hope that Ms. Margulis can answer a few more questions. Like, “Why Does My sweet Baby Try to Rip All My Hair Out Of My Scalp?” Or maybe “Why Is Her Only Goal In Life To Tear My Glasses Off My Face And Wing Them At The Ceiling Fan?” And I’d also like to know, “Why Did God Give Babies Fingernails That Are Sharp Enough To Destroy My Face But Too Thin To Cut Adequately?”

A great book overall!

Breanna is just not in love with solids. She likes the idea of food, because she’ll eagerly open her mouth for it, and she’ll try to grab your food too, but once it’s actually in her mouth? Her eager face turns into an expression of horror and she immediately uses her tongue to thrust it all back out. The bananas weren’t a big hit but she will begrudgingly eat a bit of them. Rice cereal? Forget it. You would think I was trying to make her eat tar.

Waiting for the rice, oh so happy!

Oh my GOD, this is what rice cereal tastes like? Are you TRYING TO KILL ME?!

It should be noted though, that although she isn’t impressed by bananas and hates the cereal, she will indeed happily eat the sand at the park. By the fistful. YUMMY!

On the other hand, apparently a lack of solids isn’t slowing her growth down at all since she weighed in at 16 pounds 10 ounces at her checkup today. So, apparently breastmilk weighs a lot. Yay, chunky baby! Both her weight and her height (a little over 27 inches) put her in the 95 percentile. Also, I am so proud of her because she didn’t even whimper when she got her needle and she didn’t cry afterwards; she did give the nurse one very dirty look though. She was a bit warm at bedtime and exhausted, so I gave her some Tempra and I had to re-settle her a few times since she passed out earlier, but she’s doing better than her first shots, let me tell you.

Hayley is almost four years old and at that age, they just don’t tend to think beyond “me me me” (Hayley needs her own blog). So many times I can’t help but think “man are you SELFISH” and then I remind myself that it’s normal at this stage of development. And then sometimes she surprises the hell out of me. George brought her home a chocolate bar, a Kit Kat. She broke it into the four bars and ate one, then picked up a second one and handed it to me and said “here Mommy.” She wanted to share her CHOCOLATE with me, completely unprompted. I had my own in the fridge, waiting for tonight so I said she could eat the whole thing, but it was so sweet of her to offer.

She is also going through a phase of insisting that we call her Red Riding Hood. She occasionally wears a hooded bath towel (I must find or make her a red hooded cape) and prances around with a basket “full of goodies”. Even when we were at the park the other day, every time a kid asked her what her name was she would say “My name is Little Red Riding Hood”. I told her after that maybe she should tell them her real name but ask them to just call her Red. Hee. They were all really accomodating though. I had an entire park full of kids and parents/grandparents doing things like hollering, “Hey Red, good slide!” It was hilarious!

Other days she goes to the park with her tiara so she can be a princess.

Recently:
Sherry: Oh my GOD.
Hayley: What’s wrong Mommy?
Sherry: Look at your room! You pulled all your clothes out of the bottom drawer and tossed them on the floor.
Hayley: I couldn’t find anything to wear.
Sherry: That’s because all your clothes are ON THE FLOOR. I just cleaned this room yesterday!
Hayley: … Should I have a lawyer?

It’s eight billion degrees with the humidity tonight. Time for a glass of very cold water, a little reading, and bed.