Frugal mom or cheap mom

I prefer the term "frugal" but more often of late, my husband and one or two friends have called me cheap. And not in the endearing "cheap date" kind of way either. I just laugh, because maybe, just maybe, I am cheap. 

Case in point - recently we had an amazing day at the zoo with a friend. I packed all our snacks and made us to-go coffees before we left. I insisted we leave the zoo before lunch because I refuse to buy the overpriced concession meals. This is the case whenever we go to an attraction - the zoo, aquarium, fun fair, wherever. I do not like to spend money on food when we are out somewhere. That day I caved and bought a small bag of chips because we were all starting to get a case of the hangry's. My husband always berates me for my refusal to buy concession food - but I just can't do it!!

However this inevitably leads to a hungry mom and dad, and when I am hungry I cannot even think straight. The hunger is as loud as a locomotive rushing through my head chugging "feed me, feed me, feed me." When travelling through Europe with my stepsister in our 20's the rule of trip, we learned two days in, was keep her warm and me fed. When I am hungry I often snap at whoever is around, so trips to the zoo and aquarium don't always end on good note. One would think this would cause me to change my ways. But I am also stubborn.

This is a small example of the big picture of how I live as a mom. Not on sale? Not buying it! Can I find it used? If not, maybe I will wait. Clearing out your summer stock for 80% off. Perfect for next year's wardrobe. Don't get me started on Baby Macaroni, who I recently bought what may have been her first brand new item from me, ever. I buy most of The Babe's clothes at swap meets, because the stuff there is a fraction of the price and she is growing so fast. The result tends to be mismatching patterns and winter prints in spring, but hey, no judgments okay? Reindeer become moose, elves become gnomes and snowflakes..well those are just snowflakes. I buy her the cheaper runners from Superstore, because childrens Nike and New Balance runners fit for a millisecond but are bloody expensive. I do not think I am alone on this, am I? 

When my mom used to take me to the movies she would sneak in homemade popcorn in brown paper bags. It was light on butter but heavy on salt. I would beg for movie theatre popcorn but she rarely caved. I used to think she was cheap. Now I can not only understand, I do the same thing with the sweet treats! I have become my mother in all her frugalness. It's just that life has become so darn expensive; I try to find savings wherever I can. I don't see this changing anytime soon, so my kids will just have to learn to like it. Or starve. Or go naked. 

Oh my. I really have become my mother.

~ H

PS - in search of savings, I tried to make my own dish soap. Lesson learned? Buy Dawn on sale. Save yourself the time and the very disappointing results.

Listening ears

You know the ones? The listening ears? The ones you ask your child to put on morning, noon and night? Yeah, those ones! Todays post is about when the listening ears don't work, selectively turned off at the most inopportune times. 

After a great morning of shopping, playground activities and an excellent demonstration of sharing a most-coveted swing with a friend, The Babe, Baby Macaroni and I continued to enjoy the outdoors with a walk with a friend around a nearby lake. Exercise was had, snacks were eaten and no ducks were harmed in the process of circling the lake. By all measures it was a success. Then it was time to pack up and get in the car. And this is when we all began to unravel. Because when The Babe stops listening and acting out, I get embarrassed. Yes. Embarassed. When embarrassed at her behaviour, one of two things happens. I either over-discipline or under-discipline. I yell or I beg. I stop her from running away from me by bear hugging her or I threaten to never ever ever bring her to the park again. (Of course we will go to the park again. That is just a ridiculous notion altogether.) I silently curse her for making me look like a bad parent. 

BUT SHE IS 3! She has not spent the last half hour scheming as to how she can make me look. She has been looking at ducks and eating popcorn and doesn't want it to end. Or, if it must end, can't it end by dancing around the trunk space of our Subaru? She is not malicious and she is excitable, so why does it bother me so much? Why do I care what anyone thinks about my parenting? Why do I presume they think anything at all?

Mom-shaming is a buzz word right now, but here's the thing - no one has shamed me except me. No one has said anything negative to me about The Babe or Baby Macaroni. No one looks at what I feed them and dress them in and comments on it. No one says, "wow she is very badly behaved". I'm the one who chastises them and myself for not living up to some invisible standard of behaviour and discipline. So it is time to change that because I have some pretty awesome kids and I don't say that enough. It's time to get over myself and say, "yeah, I probably wouldn't want this fun day to end either, so I get why you are acting crazy when it is time to leave." And then breathe. It's time to stop caring what other people think, because they probably don't care one way or the other; they probably don't notice at all.

~ H

Scary-led weaning

Baby-led weaning or BLW as it is referred to by some is the scariest shit I have ever done. Am doing, I should say. A little back story: I decided that in order to save time and sanity, I will not be making the 5-star Annabel Karmel style baby purees for Baby Macaroni, like I did with The Babe. It was time-consuming, labour-intensive and downright maddening if she didn't end up liking the batch I made. I also wanted to forgo the constant spoon feeding the second time around. I have a toddler to wrangle now, as well as myself to feed, so BLW seemed to be a way to do it all. The idea behind BLW is that babies join the family at the table and eat pieces of food by gumming the stick and finger-shaped pieces of food. Other than salty foods, honey, certain fishs and high fiber foods, every food is fair game according to the information I read.

So I bought the book, shopped for the groceries and away we went. And then stopped. And then started again, sort of. I gave Baby Macaroni half a red pepper to knaw on. She loved it! Success! Then she broke off a twoonie-sized chunk in her mouth and I panicked. I fished it out with my finger, a BLW no-no, and gave her back the rest of the pepper hesitatingly. The next night, a quarter of an apple. Same results. She loves the food, but gets mad when I take it out of her mouth. She gags on food, a BLW yes-yes, and my husband shudders. I posed a question on FB asking for tips and got some pretty helpful answers, but I still can't get past a nagging feeling that no matter what, a toast finger is a choking hazard. I also prefer to make her food rather than have her eat solely pouches of Superstore baby food. And there lies the problem. If I am terrified everytime I move outside the half Cheerio and steamed broccoli spectrum, is it really worth it?

Two nights ago I decided to be brave. After a few bites of cheddar cheese at lunch, we thought maybe a little cottage cheese at dinner would be a natural progression. Soft in nature, there would also be no choking hazard. What we didn't bet on was a reaction once the cheese and liquid touched the skin on her face, hands and legs. One trip to the emergency room later, which included an rather amusing conversation with a transient man, and we were given the all clear to go home and go to sleep. 

Now terrified of choking AND reactions, I am at a loss. Having a first aid kit next to me at the table while I gingerly give Baby Macaroni her next new fruit may be the only way we get through feeding her until she is 3-years-old. I sincerely hope not, but I just can't make any more damned baby beef bourginion which is destined for the blender.

~ H

Time to find a hobby part deux

So here we are again, with another 6 month old baby and me itching to find something to do for myself. I was here two and half years ago with The Babe and I decided to join a soccer team. Fast forward two and a half years and I ended up playing one full season with the team, and the second season was marred by a badly sprained ankle (not from soccer) and then ended mid-season by my pregnancy with Baby Macaroni.

Now that I am looking to get back into something, the horizon has changed. My team folded at the end of the season. I could join another team but there are two things stopping me: one is the time commitment of soccer and the other is my skills. The evening practices were not too bad but the weekend games in sometimes far away locations meant I could be gone for upwards of 4-5 hours which won't work with a baby who is still exclusively breastfeeding and not taking a bottle. The other thing stopping me is that while I enjoyed myself and maintained a good attitude, I didn't enjoy that I am not a good soccer player. I'm really not. Not playing any team sports growing up means I don't know where to be on the field before or during the play. I was like a 5-year-old just starting soccer, chasing the ball wherever it went and smiling a lot. 

So now what am I to do? I'm starting to run out of options or so it seems. I love yoga, but it definitely doesn't give me a team atmosphere which I seem to like. I do run, albeit a bit slower these days, so maybe I could find a running group again. I'm not keen on a gym membership because I'm not comfortable putting Baby Macaroni in the babysitting room yet and I like to be outside if the weather is nice.

But, when reading my previous posts, is exercise still going to be the thing that's gotta give in my life for awhile? I don't want to lose my sense of self while being a mom, if that makes sense. But maybe a sport will have to wait awhile, which might be okay. I need to have things for me, not just for my girls. But I am struggling to figure out just what those things are. Other than making pretty sweet hooded towels ;)

~ H

Goodbye 2014

At 7pm I am looking back on the roller coaster that was 2014. There were some firsts, some lasts and some OMG moments. I'm sure your year was similar in that. From what my social media networks are telling me, 2014 wasn't the favourite year for most. Here's a round up of what I learned this year:

• Negotiating with a toddler requires skill, patience, and fruit snacks often help seal the deal.
• Your second pregnancy may be completely different from your first. Probably because you forgot everything from your first pregnancy, except how it happened ;)
• Toddlers don't care if you are nauseous, they will still expect you to carry them up the stairs and play dress up.
• The Babe is loud. Really loud.
• Second babies get held more.
• My husband tells really cheesy jokes. And I find them hilarious.
• Coffee is good for two days in the pot, sometimes even three.
• Some babies really don't poop for days at a time. That's a real thing, not made up!
• Baby Macaroni is going to watch more TV in her first year than The Babe ever did. Most of that was Friday Night Lights.
• I do not like being put in timeout by The Babe.
• I love cooking shows but I only like cooking. I hope 2015 will change that.
• The Babe and restaurants do not mix. They just don't, so I should stop trying.
• I appreciate Baby Macaroni more at this age than I did The Babe, which I regret.
• I have the most beautiful ensuite bathroom I could ever imagine thanks to my husband. Yesterday I took a 15 minute hot shower with both shower heads going. It. Was. Amazing.
• And finally, though I am over 30 and a mom who drives an SUV, I will always like house music. Really loud, bumping house music.

Thanks for reading this year, and I hope everyone has a great or at least halfway decent night. Me, I ate some lobster, drank a glass of wine, and now I'm headed to bed to watch sports highlights or Shark Tank - it's his pick tonight :)

~ H

My sweet baby

AAt 4 months old I can say now, by looking back on this blog, Baby Macaroni is my sweet baby. She is my cuddly, smiley, attached baby and I love it.

I also adore the 4 months stage. It is my favorite baby stage by far. Not so fragile anymore, but still not yet rolling and scooting and trying out independence. Others may argue other milestones, that's fine. I relish each morning when I hear her familiar coos coming from the bassinet and when I look over she gives me the biggest smile. My reluctance to move her into the nursery is growing but it needs to happen soon. She is almost too tall for the bassinet and our evening chats are beginning to wake her up. Sigh. This chapter is coming to a close and I am simply not ready.

The upside is so far Baby Macaroni is putting her big sister to shame when it comes to sleeping habits (knock on wood!). We will be having some pack and play sleeps over the holidays which will hopefully serve as the transition into the nursery. But unlike The Babe, who we couldn't wait to move into her own space, this move will be bittersweet for me.

On The Babe horizon I am attempting to change my language use around her and about her. Reading (another) article I learned by describing her as a "wild child" and "a handful" I may be reinforcing the negative instead of turning it into a positive. So I will now be using the words "passionate" and "energetic" to describe her whenever possible. Perhaps it will change my reactions to her, maybe not. It's worth a shot. It feels as though I am always talking about our struggles, of which yes we have many,  but we also have a lot of successes I don't talk about as much. Why is it so much easier to talk about the challenges and not the accomplishments? Is it our desire not to appear to be bragging? Is it a fear of making another mother feel less than? What is it? Do you feel as though you are frequently talking about the negative and not the positive? Is it just me?

~ H

Why I want to be my toddler

I am watching my toddler lay on the floor, grunting at me with her shirt off and her hair askew and I'm thinking, "wouldn't that be nice?" while I furiously clean the kitchen. When I start to think about it, there are a bunch of reasons I would to trade places with my (almost) 3-year-old. Here's are some:

• Macaroni and cheese - she gets to eat this a lot. Probably more than is recommended. Sometimes I put peas or mixed vegetables in it, but sometimes I don't. Her macaroni and cheese looks pretty good when I'm choking down kale.
  
• Pants off dance off - the majority of afternoons The Babe is without pants at our house. She wakes up from her nap without pants and they rarely make it back on before bed. I cannot walk around the house with my pants off. The neighbours would think I am weird. Or a nudist. Which is also kind of weird.
  
• Taking what you want, by force - socially unacceptable for adults, but tolerated in toddlers. Though we encourage her to share, take turns or find another toy, I think sometimes we all just want to rip something out of someone hands and then run away. Admit it, you're smiling at the thought of this right now.
  
• Laughing at things which are not funny - if I laugh at something which is not funny, I either missed something or I am depraved. But The Babe laughs at the strangest things, including inflicting violence on her dad and I, and often I wish I could find the humour in singing a song incorrectly.
  
• Laying down anywhere she damned wants - The Babe lays down at the park, in the kitchen and even at Superstore. She gets comfortable and hangs out on her stomach no matter where we are or who is around. Sometime, especially at work, I just want to lay down on stomach to get stuff done. I think my productivity would go up, even if people couldn't see me at my desk.
  
• Stickers - enough said.
  
• Playdoh creativity - when we bust out the Playdoh The Babe is coming up with numerous ideas and scenes, whereas I am like, "here's another bowl..."

Finally I think I would like to be my toddler sometimes because of her ability to shift from sad to happy in a split second and completely forget whatever wrongdoing just occurred. It takes me a solid 3 days to let it go when my husband forgets to bring me home chicken wings if he's gone out the pub after hockey ;)

~ H