Sunday, October 9, 2011

Worst Vacation Ever

Seriously.

The almost two weeks that we went to Canada to visit my family amount overwhelmingly to the worst vacation ever.

We saw my folks. We saw family and friends. Everyone got to meet The Little Ninja. We even had nice weather and went to nice places. We survived the tiptoe dance on eggshells around my parents and the inevitable guilt trips for living so far away, not visiting often enough, not sending enough photos and any other perceived slights. I suppose it was a successful family visit.

But it was a horrible vacation.

Vacations are supposed to be relaxing. Isn't that the whole point? Living at my parents' houses for 12 days, while possibly enjoyable for them, was a nightmare for me. It was far more work than just being at home, as their houses are just not equipped and arranged as efficiently as ours. It was far more stressful because it's not home and there are unwritten, unspoken expectations and judgments about everything and whereas at home I can do what I want when not looking after The Little Ninja, that is just SO not the case there. There is NO REST. The Recyclist doesn't seem to conform to the whole 'make-yourself-at-home' policy, so he's hanging on my heels and nagging me to get up before I'm ready because he doesn't feel comfortable going and getting his own breakfast without me there. So I have to get up even earlier than normal. I have to look after The Little Ninja constantly and immediately. The grandparents don't OFFER to do anything and asking them to even feed The Little Ninja a bottle feels like an imposition. While I was hoping they would offer to babysit one evening so The Recyclist and I could go out for our first date since The Little Ninja was born, obviously nothing came of that. I don't know why I thought otherwise; they didn't offer to help with anything when they came to visit us here, either.

As any family visit is, the trip was packed with obligatory visits. Many of these meetings were arranged without our knowledge or input; we were only informed of them offhand. Like we should have known the extended family would be at my Dad's on Sunday and booked the time accordingly.

We somehow never got a chance to go to the mall alone - so my intended shopping trip was somewhat impeded. (The Little Ninja got wicked stuff but I seem to have mostly missed out. I'll be pushing the London trip in January with the Kiwi now in order to make up for lost shopping time. The poor Recyclist missed out completely.)

And I always find it stressful to spend an extended length of time with other people (more than 1 day with people other than my husband and son) because I just hold in all the frustration to keep the peace. I am just not a social type. I enjoy and require time alone. At home I get that. With my family? NEVER.

So it's probably no surprise that when the time comes to go home, I can't wait. I can't wait to get away from my family! Isn't that awful? I feel like an awful daughter even writing it. But seriously, by the time I leave I don't even ever want to go back. In time, that feeling changes and, of course, we do go back. But damn, I wish it could be more enjoyable.

We need more time alone.
We need days with NOTHING planned.
We need time by ourselves to go do stuff like shop.
I think we need to go for longer, much as I dread the idea.

Thus, a new resolution. Hold me to this! Next time we go to Canada (probably next summer), we will break up the trip to have some time alone on at least one mini-vacation away from my family. A good possibility would be 3-3-3-3-3-3-3. That's three weeks, with 2 three-day sessions with each parent and 3 three-day periods of vacation in between. I doubt it'll actually work out that way, but it looks like a good ideal to strive towards. 12 days of obligation separated by 9 days of freedom. Because I want to like going to Canada. I want to enjoy spending time with my family. and hopefully this is the answer. Because I don't ever want a 'vacation' like that again.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Disappointment at the Zoo

I love the Toronto Zoo. I always have. It is - bar none - my favourite attraction in the GTA. Yet I hadn't managed to get there for several years. Before today. Now, with The Little Ninja in tow, it was clear that we would have to go this time, much to my own delight.

Perhaps my expectations were too high. I had, after all, been idealising the place in my head for a good 10 years. I had been looking forward to the zoo since I planned the trip to Canada in the first place. I had even checked out the website to see what special animals would be on display. I guess I had set myself up for disappointment.

My Dad might possibly have mentioned at some point that the zoo wasn't doing all that well and the city was considering privatising it (in my opinion a good idea, especially after my experiences) and that there was some protest about the elephants in the Canadian climate, but I had waved away these minor points as they obviously could not possibly affect my wondrous zoo experience.

Well. What a frickin disappointment. Maybe the zoo isn't doing that well, but I paid $23/person PLUS $10 parking and I damn well expected to see lots of animals. We didn't see any cheetahs, though I am willing to believe there is one somewhere in the massive enclosure, though before today I would have bet on more. But there was only one lonely giraffe, one rhino, one lion, one tiger, one antelope - it was like the zoo in Madagascar - one sad example of each of those fantastic animals. And the pride of the zoo, the polar bears, were in the far enclosure where you could barely see them off on the grass, rather than in the viewing enclosure.

I understand that it's no longer high season. That was clear in the many empty kiosks we passed, the closed restaurants and the shortened opening hours. But I paid full admission and I expect to see animals! The pavilions closed at 3:30 and the whole zoo closed at 4:30. We didn't even get to see the special sting ray exhibit. Or a bunch of other things, but the zoo is really, really big and I didn't really expect to see the other things. The polar bears were not really on display. But my biggest disappointment was the lack of some animals. Those mainstays of zoo visits, lions and tigers and bears; oh my, what a disgrace. Come on, Toronto; it is not fair to the animals or the visitors to have just one of these animals. Either find some more or send them off to another zoo to at least have some company. I don't need to walk for an hour to get around the Africa area of the zoo just to see one lion, one giraffe, one antelope and not find any cheetahs at all. (The cheetahs are my favourite...)

That said, the elephants were still there (at least two) and the hippos (also two) were fun to watch. If, however, as my Dad reports, the elephants are to be sent to San Francisco or somewhere else warm, only the hippos will remain as a positive point. And that's not good enough. Toronto Zoo used to be one of the best in the world. And I don't think that's all in my head. I fervently hope that the city sells it to some zoo operator that knows its business because there is no reason (especially at those prices) for the zoo not to be a top-rate attraction!

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Adding to the arsenal

Oh joy. The Little Ninja has added new weapons to his arsenal.

He was born talented, with an incredible ability he developed in utero - that of making precisely targeted strikes with his hands and feet in particular, though I have been gifted with a head butt a time or two when going in for a kiss. But recently The Little Ninja has developed new talents with his new equipment: the helmet and his barely visible tooth. And I tell you, both of them take you completely by surprise.

My experience with the head butting should have taught me better, I suppose, but I just can't help wanting to kiss and hug The Little Ninja. He's just so cute! But with his helmet, he has learned to turn his head just so - the way you would if avoiding a kiss, in fact - that the edge of the helmet strikes my nose at a remarkable velocity and strength. I back away in tears.

And to go with his piranha jaws, which he uses to clamp down on anything he can get his hands on, particularly fingers, he now has a tiny tooth peeking through the gums, like a little sliver of glass that you don't notice until it's sliced into you and you're bleeding all over the floor. Yes, that's what Mommy tastes like once you get through the outer rind.

To add to this, he is growing skilled in using one of the weapons he has had all along: his nails. As he becomes more coordinated he's learning all kinds of tricks. A new favourite is raking his nails down my face. Or trying to gouge my eyes out. Or just see if he can rip a section of my cheek from my face. You know, all in the name of fun and exploration. Of course, if I were to cut The Little Ninja's nails more often, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be able to scratch for like a minute or two. I don't know about other babies, but The Little Ninja's nails grow in FAST. I think if he stopped wriggling around and held still I could probably see them growing. Like little exacto knives sliding out on the ends of his little fingers. And just as dangerous.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Off and running

Today, for the first time since... wait, let me think... since I was six weeks pregnant with The Little Ninja, I went running. :D

If you could call it that. Well, I'm going to call it that, anyway.

It wasn't the energizing, easy 5K I used to do all the time. I only did about half that and it was far from easy. I ran for 60 paces and then walked for 60. But it was still energizing. I mean, I was keeled over trying to catch my breath at the end, but I felt good. OK, I wasn't THAT out of breath. I did some stretching and had a shower and my energy was way up until I sat down to work and fell asleep. Seriously. I guess it took more out of me than I thought.

After rereading the line I was working on for about the tenth time, I went to lie down for a nap. Really, there's only so much you can do. So I napped for an hour and then it was time to go pick up The Little Ninja from daycare (another 4K, but just walking this time).

So I walked 8.5K and walked/jogged/ran another 2 or 2.5. I'll have to recharge my Garmin so I can keep better track of my running. Because this was not a one-time event. I'm back world! Off and running!

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

The Helmet Chronicles: progress and setback

So you know how we were having so much trouble getting The Little Ninja to sleep with his helmet on at night? We totally solved that.

It seemed that the problem was mostly that he didn't want the helmet back on after his bath. My brilliant solution: bath him in the morning and since the helmet doesn't seem to bother him once it's been on for a bit, we now just NEVER TAKE IT OFF. At least, not in the evening before bed. And you guys, it worked like a charm! He sleeps! With the helmet!

And you know what else?! The helmet guy measured his head at the appointment on Saturday and IT'S ALREADY IMPROVING! Seriously, after just two weeks, and those not even full-time! Yay!

So obviously, after good news like that and much applause for my fabulous solution to the sleeping problem, it all had to go wrong.

The Little Ninja has a fever. And since he needs to be able to get rid of the heat, we have to keep the helmet off until his temperature returns to normal. So far, the helmet's been off for two days already. 2 DAYS!

Two days of mostly sleeping, on his back, no less, possibly making his flat spot worse! Not to mention that the poor little sucker obviously doesn't feel well. And that he isn't allowed at the daycare with a fever so I'm babysitting and not working. I hope the fever goes away soon, so The Little Ninja feels better and we can put the helmet back on. It doesn't work lying on the shelf, after all.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Aaaand it's fall.

After a stunning close to the season with 31C on Saturday, fall came crashing in later Saturday night, with a violent thunderstorm. And we've had cool, rainy weather ever since. Yes folks, that was it. Two nice weekends and it's over.

Fall in the Netherlands is not like fall was where I lived in Canada. There the days stay sunny, for the most part, but the air begins to take on a crispness, especially at night, that turns the leaves bright colours. Here fall is really the rainy season, though there are those who might complain that that's summer. Fall weather, more than the rain, is known here for changing quickly and violently. It's not unusual to go through half-hour cycles of hard rain and then sun, with strong gusting wind the entire day. The temperature is cool, which is good because otherwise you'd be too hot in your rain suit, which you need for the gusting rain. Normal umbrellas are useless here. They break with the first use.

During the last storm, I walked through an umbrella graveyard. Broken, discarded umbrellas littered the square, metal skeletons poking out of garbage cans and heaped beside them; others lying forlornly along the side of the road, bent into tortured shapes only hinting at the violence that destroyed them.

But I digress. The point here is that fall has arrived, bringing its stormy, changing weather. We, however, are off to Canada in a few weeks to enjoy the pleasant fall weather there. And to introduce The Little Ninja to my family, but timing is everything. A little less rain and a few more leaves changing colour. Welcome autumn!

Monday, September 5, 2011

The Helmet Chronicles: Success and failure

After the success of the first week, building up the hours during the day that The Little Ninja wore his helmet, we thought we were in the clear. The Little Ninja seemed not to even notice the helmet, though he did sweat a lot. This weekend we decided it was time to extend helmet time from all day to include night.

What a freakin nightmare.

It seems he can't sleep at night with his helmet on. Or at least, that's what we deduced from the hours he spent screaming when we put him to bed. No amount of soothing, cuddling or distracting toys were any help. He rubbed his eyes, he yawned, and threw a tantrum because he couldn't sleep. For HOURS. I know the helmet guy said we were supposed to be tough and not, under any circumstances, take the helmet off when he was crying. That we had to show The Little Ninja that the helmet was there to stay and that crying would not make us take it off. He also emphasised that the longer the helmet is worn, the more effect it will have. With this haunting our thoughts, we made it through hours of screaming. But there is a limit, people. At a certain point you start questioning whether a shapely head is worth all this pain and anguish.

We totally caved.

I mean, the helmet guy isn't pulling his hair out listening to the screaming and going out of his mind trying to soothe The Little Ninja. No, that would be me. And The Recyclist. So we took off the helmet, dried off The Little Ninja's head, which by that time was totally soaked, walked around to sooth him, and then laid the little guy back in his bed. He was asleep in seconds. Seriously.

We tried it again the next night and the next night. Same thing. We are all going crazy. We go back to the helmet place next Saturday for the first check-up/adjustment. Are we going to have to tell the helmet guy that it just isn't working? That we've failed already?

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The D word

Diet.

There. I said it. Or wrote it, at least.

I've complained about the weight I gained in pregnancy and I've complained about not being able to get rid of it. So now that the novelty of my incredible shaping underwear has worn off, as it was bound to do sooner or later, I have decided to take the plunge. I am going on a diet.

The stupid thing is that I eat healthily already. I already exercise plenty. But for baby fat, it's just not enough. I mean, it's enough not to GAIN weight, so I suppose it's my body's normal balance, but the balance is a good 5kg above where I used to be and want to be again.

Hence the diet.

Since 5kg is not really very much in the big world of dieting, I'm not going for anything too drastic. I looked at Atkins, the high-protein, low-carb diet that really worked for a friend of mine but it looked too complicated. If I have to calculate anything, it's doomed to failure. Not that I have any problems with math in general - I just am not that committed. Atkins (and number-crunching Weight-Watchers) are out.

So I went for an easy solution. Weight care. It's kind of like the ultra slim-fast diets I remember from commercials when I was a kid. I have a meal replacement shake or bar for breakfast and lunch and then I eat a 'responsible meal' for dinner. The website has 'responsible meal' suggestions but I haven't looked at them and am just eating my normal dinner.

Really, I should have done this sooner. Now with the shakes and meal-replacement bars, I am actually eating breakfast regularly for the first time since The Little Ninja was born. Unfortunately, that might also mean that I'm actually eating MORE than I was off-diet.

Time will tell. Wish me luck!

Saturday, August 27, 2011

The Helmet Chronicles: fitting and adjustment period

Today The Little Ninja got his helmet.

When we first arrived at the orthopedic store, we were given a cup of coffee (or in my case, tea) and went into the fitting office, where the model of The Little Ninja's head was revealed complete with helmet. We were instructed how to wash it and what to expect and given suggestions for how to 'break it in', or get The Little Ninja (and us) used to him wearing it.
The fitters had made a yellow foam model of his head and then filled up the less round bits to shape a nice, symmetrical, round head. The helmet was built on this model of The Little Ninja's ideal head. It restricts growth where his head is already protruding, and leaves space for it to grow out to fill the ideal head mold.

At first, the helmet was too long, covering his eyes and not leaving enough space for his ears. The technician marked this and then milled/ground/filed the helmet to the right shape. Once he was happy with the shape, he sanded it all smooth. It was interesting to watch. Then he put on the helmet one last time before packing it up for us to take home (with the ideal/comparison head mold inside).

We were told to take The Little Ninja home and put the helmet on him for just 15 minutes the first time, when he was fed and rested and had his familiar toys in his familiar environment to distract him. We were told to act normal so he would understand that the helmet was normal.
After we took the helmet off the first time, The Little Ninja's head was completely soaked with sweat. After just 15 minutes! We dried him off and wiped off the helmet and then an hour later we put the helmet on again, this time for half an hour. We did it! We all survived. And to be honest, I think the helmet's cute. I'm happy with the 'ice age' pattern and am already glad we decided to do this.

Tomorrow we start the adjustment period - one hour with the helmet on, one hour off. This'll be mostly The Recyclist's responsibility as I will be heading downtown for my review/writing session and dinner afterwards.

We go back in two weeks for fine-tuning or can make an appointment sooner if we have any problems or see any pressure points.

Here's hoping the adjustment period continues as well as it began!

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Time for a break... or a career change. Maybe both.

After saying for a number of weeks now that I was going to work less and/or take a day off and then subsequently being offered even MORE work and taking it, ruining all hopes for time off, I have finally arranged that tomorrow I will have the day off. Not that this means I can sleep in or anything; in fact, if anything, I need to get up even earlier. The Little Ninja still needs to go to daycare (or it's not much of a day off, is it?) and on Monday I got a talking to. See, apparently - contrary to their own website - children need to be dropped off by 9:00 a.m. I had - unknowingly - been dropping off The Little Ninja too late. I did point out, possibly snarkily, that they might want to change the website, then, and wrote down the offending url for them, possibly to help them and probably just to show them I was right.

Anyway, I've been run off my feet recently and since this weekend is already fully booked - helmet fitting on Saturday and writing review session on Sunday (I finally submitted something for review! GAAA!) I have given myself tomorrow. Relaxing, however, is out of the question. At least, do-nothing relaxing. I have so much stuff to do (but stuff I WANT to do, so it's ok) that I'll probably be just as busy as normal but without that dragging desire to procrastinate. I love my job, can't you tell?

In fact, I love it so much I've recently been looking into distance education programmes to qualify me for something different. And I might have found something! Maybe. It's a bachelor's programme in Environmental Science through the Open University here. It's in Dutch, which is a bit of a drawback, but since it's a science programme it shouldn't be too heavy on essays, although I'd probably be okay even then. It's just not English, which is just always easier. However, being local, it also costs like a gajillion times less than similar programmes abroad, although those do have the advantage of being in English.  

Anyway, since I already have a bachelor's degree in mechanical engineering (which is literally and figuratively hidden away somewhere collecting dust), I can apply to have that degree evaluated in order to get credit towards this new degree, which according to their website would waive almost half of the required courses. So instead of a six year (part-time) degree, it'd be a measly three years (!). With the option to stream into the master's programme after. I don't know if I really want to commit to all that just yet though. So I was thinking of maybe just signing up for the first course - an intro to both the programme and the university/way of studying - Earth, Man and the Environment.

The thing holding me back from just registering right this instant is the other course that I ordered and haven't really looked at. I think I've read up to maybe lesson 4, maybe not even, and stopped there. And that one's in English, even. But that's a whole other thing. It's an experiential course on Druidry. Which is really cool, but it just doesn't seem to fit into my life right now. Especially when I want to do the exercises alone, in peace and quiet, outside, but I live in the netherworld where it rains constantly and where approximately 641 kids live on our street/backing onto our yard. So anyway, I'm concerned that the neglect of the Druidry course will infect the environmental science course and I'll have paid even more money for another course I'll never finish. (I also may or may not have registered for an Anthropology course via Athabasca University a few years ago, only to drop it later, without ever completing any of the assignments.) I think my concerns are well grounded, but the difference, the make-or-break difference, is motivation. Do I have enough to get me through this course? Until I come up with a solid answer to that, I'm holding off on signing up.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Wanted: Meteorologists

Despite the incredible faith the Dutch people have in their weather 'professionals', these 'experts' really don't know what they're doing. Sure, they can show where the clouds are moving right now on the radar map, but who couldn't?! I wonder how well - or if - these people are trained. I, for one, watched the Weather Network for an ENTIRE SUMMER one year - possibly during el nino - and am therefore a highly-trained weather guru. As is my brother, who somehow maintained control of the remote (probably because he woke up so damned early). I think we could take them.

Seriously, if they understood the weather half as well as they claim, you'd think they'd at least be able to make an accurate predication of, say, tomorrow's weather. I know, the weather is constantly changing. I don't trust next week's forecast; I don't even look at it. But tomorrow? Seriously, how hard is that?!

On Sunday, the week's forecast was roughly like this: Monday and Tuesday, rain and cool weather. Wednesday: clear, blue skies and hot. Thursday on: rain and possibly still hot.

If you recall, on Monday, I wrote about the start of summer. It was a warm, sunny day. As was Tuesday. Wednesday, however, had sun and cloud and a wind that made it cooler than Monday and Tuesday.

Every day this week, the forecast was wrong.

On Wednesday, I watched the news because I remembered that they had called for rain in the earlier forecast. The forecast for Thursday had changed to sun and cloud.

It rained. The. Whole. Day.

The forecast for Friday: cloudy and cool. It would definitely stay below 20C. It was sunny from the moment The Little Ninja woke me up until the sun set at like 9:00 at night.  From the moment I stepped outside it was obvious it would be much warmer than 20.

Clearly, the meteorologists in the Netherlands have NO IDEA what they're doing. Please help them. Could constant Weather Network, perhaps, be an option? Because either they need training or we need new people. Probably the latter.

Meteorologists wanted! Must be able to FORECAST THE WEATHER.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

A change'll do ya good

This is so true. Especially for me. Because I am addicted to change. And since my husband, um... isn't, I don't get enough without going out of my way to do so.  So you can imagine that I might be getting frustrated with my walk to and from The Little Ninja's daycare, as the last 700m have been the same each way all summer. The first part I can vary, but that last bit is the same stretch of the same road, over and over, rain, heavy rain or cloud. (I wasn't kidding when I said summer just started yesterday.)

But today the soccer club next to the daycare had its first game of the season, and this opened up an alternate route that hasn't been available since the season finished in the spring. Instead of that same road again, afternoons when the club is open, I can take a pathway through the club, changing my entire route. It's a nicer route, too. I don't have to walk along the road at all, I can just stay on the bike/walking paths. Yay!

Other people, I think, could also do with a change. Doesn't anyone consider their facial expression when walking down the street or biking? Seriously, people, you're in public! Passing others constantly. How hard is it to have a pleasant expression on your face, if smiling and saying hello are simply too much to ask? Even in warm, sunny weather, the likes of which we haven't seen since May, almost everyone I passed today had a scowl on their face. Not very friendly, I tell you. Not terribly positive. I mean, I know Holland prides itself on its ability to complain, but seriously? It's pathetic and depressing. It was a beautiful day today. Smile! Enjoy the ride/walk. Greet your neighbours!

I realize that my friendly Canadian disposition will never really fit in here, and I'm not really expecting anyone to say hello (I learned that lesson long ago) but I think scowling is a bit excessive. I mean, not only does it make all the people you pass think that a) you don't like them and b) you're evil, but doesn't it also make you feel angry and upset as well? I tried to fit in in Russia with a scowl (even Dutch people have NOTHING on the negativity that is Russia), but I just made myself feel angry. Really people. Try smiling. A change'll do ya good.

Down with grapes!

What's the worst thing you've found in produce? I bring it up because of a horribly terrifyingly creepy post by Stark.Raving.Mad.Mommy, about what she found in her grapes. I think I've only really had slugs in broccoli. Nothing too sinister (yet). But after reading that, I will never look at produce the same way again. Produce is dangerous and should be inspected from a safe distance. Preferably by someone else. Wearing thick gloves. Or maybe a full haz-mat suit. Read the post. I dare you. You'll never buy grapes again.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Summer! And peace and quiet!

Today summer arrived in the Netherlands!

Better late than never, right? Well, for me, anyway. Finally a hot warm, sunny day.

For the neighbourhood kids, though, summer's over; today was the first day back to school. Suckers.

With the Little Ninja just in his first year of daycare, the start of the school year wasn't terribly dramatic or meaningful in our house. No one here's going to school, so we can enjoy the summer whatever time of year it happens. In fact, it's even better when the kids are in school: it's finally nice and quiet outside!

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Fucking pink

I fucking hate pink. And I fucking hate that the people that design sports clothing and running shoes put pink on all the women's stuff, assuming that all women want pink on all their stuff. They ruin perfectly good shoes and clothing with pink accents, soles, or heaven forbid entire products, as though women can't possibly wear anything that doesn't have pink. Or that all women even like pink.

Let me tell you something, designers: not all women like pink. I, for one, fucking hate pink. I might be allergic, even. And I am not alone in this.

And while I'm bitching about sports clothing, I also want to bitch that women's clothing is often designed for form rather than function - spandex, halter tops and bling sure bring out the athlete in me - and made from cotton rather than the technical fabrics even the cheapest men's sports clothing is made from.

Is this because of the pink? As soon as you girly something up (with pink, flowers or heaven forbid, bling), it looks less serious, so you take it less seriously - hence the cotton exercise shirts. Or perhaps the pink and the cotton are just both symptoms of the look-pretty-don't-sweat perception: because women are only supposed to look pretty and not sweat, their stuff should be pretty and pink and not made for sweating. Both of these ideas combine well with the ridiculous lion's share of white running shoes (with pink accents for women, obviously). Clearly, these are not meant for outdoor use. Because anyone running outside won't keep them white past the first puddle. Unless they aren't REALLY running. Just looking pretty, of course.

Regardless, the stuff is crap. Plain black running shoes would be a welcome change. No bling. No pink accents to show they're for women. Nothing shiny. Technical sports shirts (non-pink, no flowers) even from cheaper brands, and shorts that are not spandex or revealing any parts of the ass. Hmmm. It sounds like I want men's sports clothing, just made to fit a woman. What a crazy idea.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Big Guns

I've brought out the big guns against post-partum recovery... or against non-recovery, I suppose. That is, against the body that just is not springing back into its pre-pregnancy, fit, maiden glory.

I bought shape-correcting underwear.

One pair of mid-thigh to high-waist reshapers and a hooker bra. No more droopy boobs for me. I look like a porn star. And my belly appears deceptively flat. Now all I need is a plastic dress, some bubble gum and hair spray for my tease and I'll have some income on the side. Or on the back, or front. Or standing. Not really my choice. Just have to keep the lights out. I'm not quite as shapely as I may at first appear, when my body is freed from its shaping silhouette. But then, I'm no expert; maybe all hookers are the same.

Still. Even if I'm not quite as stunning as I feel, I feel like I look good. And it's been a damned long time since I felt that way. So yay hooker bra! Yay shaping undies.

Really, I should have done this sooner.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

The Helmet Chronicles: Digital Modelling and Transportation Difficulties

Today I went to Rotterdam with The Little Ninja to have his head measured for his helmet. We stuck him in a Bumbo seat with a play saucer and pulled what looked like the foot of some spotted panty hose over his head. The technician took digital pictures while spinning him around in the seat to get all sides. Some fancy computer program aligned the pictures using the dots on the head hose and came up with a 3D model of his head.

It was pretty cool, actually. And I was impressed to watch The Little Ninja sitting in the seat all by himself. Maybe we should get one of those things - Internet, he could SIT! But seeing as he's almost six months old now, he'll probably learn to sit one of these days anyway. So maybe we'll skip the Bumbo.

So by now that 3D model of my son's head has travelled cyberspace to the foam modelling people. They're going to make a physical model of his head and then fashion a helmet around that.

If that wasn't enough excitement, I got to choose the pattern for the helmet today! I was kind of disappointed, really. I thought there would be more selection. Still, I like the swirly blue one I picked. It'll be kind of like a bowling ball. But not quite that round. Or shiny.

Transport was a drag. I'm married to The Recyclist, so we're all eco-conscious and stuff. So we don't have a car. Which means I take public transport everywhere. Now, this is Holland, not Canada, so it's not the impossible task it might at first seem. However, travelling alone with a kid in a stroller makes certain transport options significantly more difficult than they would otherwise be. Like certain trams (streetcars) that have a raised floor, so I can't take these if I'm alone with The Little Ninja because I can't lift him and the stroller up the steps. And certain train stations that are under construction don't have elevators to the platforms; again - can't do it alone. As a result, the 58-minute route suggested by the handy public transport planner was a no go. I had to walk to a further stop than usual, where I took a bus to a further train station than usual, but one that did have an elevator. It was not a good connection.

Then, the level-floor train that was scheduled was replaced by a raised-floor train. Panicking, I managed to get us inside, but not in the right place so I had to sit on one of the pull-down seats rather than in a normal cushioned seat. Still. The train was on time and we got to Rotterdam on time. They also have raised-floor trams there, so I opted for the subway, which would leave me a longer walk, but that I was sure had elevators at both ends. On the way back, I realised that the particular tram that goes past the orthopedic centre is a level-floored one. Figures. I took that one downtown and went shopping. More on that next time.

Shopping complete, I headed for the nearest tain station: Rotterdam Central Station. I totally forgot, however, that Central Station is under construction and currently has no elevators. While I was trying to decide if it was worth it to take a tram back to the other station and calculate whether I'd still catch my train, a nice young guy handing out flyers offered to help me carry The Little Ninja up the stairs.

Is your jaw on the floor? Are you as surprised as I was? As I still am, hours later? That might be the first nice thing a stranger has done for me since I moved here. Six years ago.

This time the train WAS level-floored so yay. And I therefore didn't panic to get inside, but walked calmly to the correct door, allowing me to get a real seat. Yay. Not so yay was after I got off that train and went to catch the bus home. It's August still, right? That means it's summer, doesn't it? It was freaking cold and windy today (with showers) and the frigging bus didn't come. I watched two trams go by (the tall ones I can't get into alone) while I waited for the stupid bus. In the freaking cold and wind. And Ninja was getting upset too. Fun all around. Finally, though, we did get home. The next bus did come and we were home and warm not too long afterwards.

Sometimes, I wish we had a car. Today, for example, our trip would have been so much easier. And faster. But I, like my husband The Recyclist, love the Earth and am willing (for the moment at least) to suffer a few inconveniences for its sake. Or so I keep telling myself.

Monday, August 8, 2011

The War of the Sleeves

Every morning and every night, I fight a battle in the ongoing War of the Sleeves.

Day clothes, pyjamas, a jacket, whatever. If it has sleeves and I want it on The Little Ninja, there will be a battle.

Short sleeves, longs sleeves, the fight is the same. Anytime I try to dress him in anything with sleeves, no matter how I try to distract him, he squirms, whines and sometimes even screams in protest. His legs kick out in the targeted strikes he's named for, efficiently batting my hands away. His arms pull in and his thumbs stick out to work against me and the sleeve; he hasn't quite realised that the more he struggles, the longer it takes for the sleeves to capture the victory, the longer the battle.

I don't get it. I had heard that some babies don't like having shirts pulled over their heads, but that doesn't seem to be a problem for The Little Ninja. Just sleeves.

I hope he figures out that he can't possibly win this war. We don't live in a particularly warm part of the world. Sleeves are a big part of life here! I am unlikely to surrender when The Little Ninja might get frostbite as a result!

He does understand, however, when to wave the white flag. Once the sleeves are on and I let go of his arms, he admits his defeat and stops struggling. Clearly, I have won another battle. But the war rages on.


Saturday, August 6, 2011

Did I disappear?

Since I had The Little Ninja, I've noticed that people don't seem to see me anymore. As I speed-walk with my stroller to the daycare, I pass others who, without fail, stare at The Little Ninja in the stroller and never even make eye contact with me. Oddly, even when the stroller is empty after I've dropped him off, they still just look, puzzled, at the empty stroller. Am I invisible?

I admit, an empty stroller pushing itself down the street would be rather perplexing. As would a stroller seemingly being driven by its tiny occupant.

It goes further than invisibility, however. People, even close friends and family, ignore my well-being completely. No one ever asks how I am anymore; the only question I get asked is how he is. We're both just fine thanks. I mean, it's not that I don't want them to ask about The Little Ninja. I just feel left out.

In my weekly phone call with my Dad, for example, all of his questions are about The Little Ninja. As if I didn't exist other than as his spokesperson. Am I jealous? I guess, sort of. My own Dad ignores me for his grandson. And then, just to be able to tell him what's going on with me (because he'd still be hurt if I didn't tell him something important), I have to interrupt before he hangs up, as he assumes the conversation is over after he's been reassured that his grandson is doing well and has updated me on the weather in Toronto.

My Dad is kind of addicted to weather updates. His favourite station is The Weather Network. We cannot have a conversation that does not include the weather. Although he finds it more important to inform me of their weather than to ask about mine. It might just be taking small talk too far and not realising that a) I don't care and b) that small talk is for strangers and not so much family, unless it has a reason to be important. Like that the airport is snowed in and my flight might be cancelled. For example.

But I digress.

The point is, I feel like I suddenly became completely unworthy of attention. (Which I why I'm spilling my guts to you, Internet. Maybe no one will ever read this blog, but I know that at least you will record my bitching for posterity. To you, Internet, I matter. And for now, I guess that's enough.)

Friday, August 5, 2011

Dammit I just want my body back

A key piece of information that I somehow never came across while I was pregnant was just how long it  might take for my body to spring back to the way it was before I got pregnant. It's been almost 6 months since I gave birth and I'm starting to think I'll never completely recover.

I gained 23kg (50 lbs) when I was pregnant and, not being terribly large to start with, I stretched a long way to make space for The Little Ninja, who was 4kg (almost 9 lbs) at birth. I'd show you the pictures but I can't bear to look at them. Seriously, I was huge. Anyway, I lost the majority of the weight pretty quickly but the last 5kg are not budging. I walk 24km/week just taking The Little Ninja to daycare. I eat next to nothing and none of it makes a difference! I'm horrified and frustrated. I will never fit into my old clothes.

But my shape is just the start. I seem to have developed post-pregnancy mask. I swear I didn't have any odd pigmentation during my entire pregnancy. But then after I gave birth I was given an iron IV because I had lost a lot of blood. And I turned out to have a severe reaction to that: a horrible itchy rash that lasted 6 weeks and I couldn't take anything useful because I hadn't yet given up on breastfeeding. The rash, though it no longer itches, somehow turned from red to brown and is still visible as pigment spots all around my ankles and my midrif as well as colouring my entire blob of belly. It's not pretty. And the stickers that were on my skin to hold the monitors in place during labour (and there were a whole bunch) - the outlines also turned brown. I was out in the sun the other day and now I have pigmented areas on my forehead and upper lip. These aren't terribly noticeable to others, but I can tell it's not just a tan.  The rest of me, though - It doesn't bother me not to wear a bikini. But not to even be able to manage shorts and a tank top? I keep hoping that if I rub at it long enough the brown skin will rub off and leave me with my normal skin underneath, but this has not yet shown results.

And then there's the scar. Who ever heard of a scar hurting?! I mean, I've seen some pretty gruesome scars in my day but I never heard that they could still hurt after the wound healed. Even the scar I have from surgery a couple of years ago - it never hurt. Never. But my baby scar? It hurts! Not all the time, granted. But every now and then. And the physio totally doesn't help. I know babies can mess up people's sex lives. I didn't think I'd be celibate the rest of my life because I had a baby. But until my scar stops hurting, it's just not going to happen. Boo.

I also physically can't run yet, still have 'roids and have developed a weak bladder. And for some reason I get really stiff now too. Especially my feet. Weird. Anyway.

I didn't sign up for all this. I mean, I expected that I'd have a bit of a belly afterwards, but with my active lifestyle and healthy diet, I figured I'd still be back to my prepregnancy self within a few months without really having to work at it. I could even accept the whole 'second 9 months' thing - that it takes 9 months to have the baby and another 9 to recover. But I'm not seeing improvement. The belly I'll get rid of eventually, I'm sure. But the discolouration? The pain? My love life? Will they ever recover?

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

The Helmet Chronicles: Introduction

Today we had an appointment at a nearby hospital. It was a kind of intake interview for The Little Ninja and The Recyclist and I as his parents.

See, when he was about 2 weeks old, we realised that The Little Ninja had a flat spot on his head. At the back, to the left. From above, his head looked kind of triangular. Technically, this is called positional plagiocephaly. The flat spot may have been formed by his position in utero, by his 'assisted' birth, or by a preference to turn his head to his left in those first two weeks. He certainly did prefer to face slightly to the left, but I'm not sure whether that was because there was already a flat spot there, so his head just rolled into that position or because of something else, causing the flat spot. In any case, we mentioned it at our one-month Well Baby appointment and the doctor gave us some exercises to do with The Little Ninja, to try to encourage him to turn his head to the right.

At the two-month Well Baby appointment, we mentioned it again and the doctor referred us to a physiotherapist. She measured The Little Ninja's head and how misshapen it was. This is given a score on the ODDI - Oblique Diameter Difference Index. 100% would be a perfectly round, symmetrical head, which, obviously, no one really has. 100 - 104% is considered round. 104 - 108% is slightly misshapen but will probably resolve with physiotherapy. Above 108% is not likely to resolve on its own and justifies helmet therapy. The Little Ninja scored 107% at 2 months, but the real measurement would be at 5 months. This was just to give a frame of reference. The therapist gave more exercises and we made regular appointments to check the progress.

We quickly broke through the left-side preference, but the flat spot remained. No longer lying on the flat spot, a bulge appeared under the flat spot making The Little Ninja's head look somewhat less triangular.

At 5 months, the physiotherapist measured The Little Ninja's head again. After three months of turning his somewhat triangular head to the right, strengthening his neck muscles with exercises, and giving him time on this tummy so that his flat spot could grow out, he now scored 111% on the ODDI.

I don't know exactly how that happened. Maybe the first measurement was wrong, maybe the bump under the flat spot is actually worse than the flat spot, I don't know, but his head is somehow more deformed now than it was three months ago.

Which means The Little Ninja is getting a helmet. Our next appointment is on Tuesday, when they'll make a complete 3D model of his head in order to make the helmet.

Thus begins The Helmet Chronicles...

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

My supernova bruise

Today someone commented on the fine bruise I have on my elbow and asked about it. So I'll share it with you too, Internet. See, I scraped my elbow when I fell down the stairs the other day and a day later a cool ring bruise appeared around the scrape. I'm not fooled. The whole thing is bruised, you just can't see it where the scrape is.

And how, you ask, did I manage to fall down the stairs?

Well. See, normally it would never have happened, because I know my Dutch staircase is stupidly steep and the steps are just a bit too narrow, so I hold the railing. So obviously, it happened because I wasn't holding the railing.

And why wasn't I holding the railing?

Because I was holding my son.

So yes, I fell down the stairs while carrying my baby son, The Little Ninja. Ninjas being known for their athleticism, I have to hold mine with both hands or he'll escape.  So down the stairs we slid, me on my back, trying to stop us, and The Little Ninja on me, still trying to escape. As a result, I rug-burned/scraped my left elbow and right foot as well as my lower back. I wrenched my right knee and strained various muscles all over my body. I've been limping around like an arthritic granny for the past few days.

Luckily, ninjas also being acrobatic and skilled at tumbling, The Little Ninja emerged unscathed. He was surprised into crying and may possibly have bumped his head on one or two of the steps, but he stopped crying after about a minute and was his usual happy self. I, on the other hand, continued to cry. Not because of the pain, which was unpleasant but bearable, (I gave birth less than six months ago; I can still remember the pain. Come on, this was nothing.) but because of how close I had come to seriously injuring my son. I guess they were tears of relief that he was okay. They felt like tears of shame that I was the worst mom ever.

I understand now what moms everywhere say: I would do anything to keep my child safe. A stunning supernova bruise for defending him from the staircase? Totally worth it.

Noodles and Ninjas

Hello and welcome to my latest attempt at a blog. We'll see how it goes.

It's not a themed blog, though the title might suggest otherwise; it's just about my life. Oddly, noodles and ninjas is a remarkably apt summary. As I'm hoping you'll discover while reading this blog.

Anyway. A brief introduction probably couldn't hurt. I'm Perrin. I'm 31, married to the Recyclist. We have a baby boy, The Little Ninja (formerly known as Valentine in my now obsolete pregnancy blog, No no, it's for the baby). And we live in the Netherlands. The boys are Dutch. I'm Canadian with a splash of international.

Is that enough of an introduction? On with the blog.