The Cheeseblog

Got a call from UBC daycare yesterday. They have a spot for Trombone, 2 years later!

Sure, I’d have to go back to work full time to justify the expense. Oh and do something with Fresco in the meantime. But it’s a small price to pay for a full time daycare spot in a great facility, plus sibling rights for Fresco, no?

No?

Really?

I have to TURN DOWN a daycare spot? In this country? Jumpin’ Josephine.

Life’s a funny old bitch, innit.

I have cupcake frosting in my hair. What’s for dinner is cooking from its frozen state in the oven. Tentatively I sip at a glass of wine, hoping Fresco sleeps till at least midnight. Not that I will still be up at midnight. I hope to have logged at least 3 hours of sleep by then. It is New Year’s Eve.

To celebrate, I think I will watch the final episode ever of the Royal Canadian Air Farce, just to make sure they don’t pull a “..it was only a dream” at the end and go on for another 18 seasons. If that happens I want to be prepared to march on Ottawa and give whoever’s in charge a thorough trouncing with my new fabulous boots.

I snuck out and bought myself new boots in November without even telling you. This was the year I was not going to get new boots. This was the year I was not in need of anything new for my feet. Maternity leave and attractive shoes are at opposite ends of my spectrum. I had my $20 rubber boots and the hiking boots I bought last year when we went to Tofino in January and that was going to be good. e. nuf. for the winter.

The day I went to the mall to pick up our fantastic photo package from Sears, I stopped in at a shoe store that was advertising half off all their boots! I saw a great pair of Danskos at the front and they were marked down to $100 which I am told is a good deal for that brand of shoe, a shoe which has changed the lives of many, so I asked about a size 11. The teenage salesclerk brought me a size 41, which did not fit because a 41 is a size 10. She argued with me about this but eventually could not deny that the boot did not in the least fit me so she went to the back room to find other boots in a size 11 for me to try. Three whole pairs of boots returned with her and I was sad to discover that two pairs did not fit at all. The third, however. The third were a beautiful fit. Lined with wool. The foot part covered with waterproof goretex but not in a terrifyingly ugly way. The leg part in treated suede. I am not describing them well. (Here, go look. They are this boot except the foot is waterproof.) They were Ecco boots which meant that at half price they were still well outside what a person should pay for a pair of boots when she is decidedly not boot shopping.

I justified them thusly: I walk a lot. Every day. My rubber boots have no insole to speak of. My hiking boots are just a titch too small. A comfortable shoe would do a lot to ease my back pain. A waterproof, warm, comfortable boot is just the thing everyone needs. Who doesn’t need that? Footless people, that’s who.

Still though, I had a bit of buyer’s remorse. I didn’t NEED them. They weren’t the boots I went in for. I bought new boots last year that I wore twice before getting my old boots fixed and continuing to wear them every day. I have a Boot Impulse, I know this. There is a recession. Etc.

Then it snowed. And snowed. And rained. And rained. I have worn these boots every day for at least two weeks now. They are the most comfortable boot ever. They are waterproof. They are warm. And they are taller than the snowdrifts. And they don’t give me electric shocks! And they are not ugly! I love them. I love them. I love them so much.

It all came together, you guys. I bought a hat with ear flaps a couple of months ago and then was all, why did I do that? I bought the boots. Why did I do that? Back in the fall there was an infant snowsuit at London Drugs for $5. How could I not buy it, but really, would I ever need such a thing for Vancouver? I insisted on the Phil and Ted’s buggy. Why? But then, two weeks ago when there was snow everywhere and the wind was blowing making it minus 18 celsius, I comfortably and warmly took my children for a late afternoon jaunt to the liquor store for some much needed wine. Suddenly it all made sense. I will never doubt my shopping instincts again.

That’s why today I bought the sunglasses pictured below. (Well, that and it was really bright outside and I broke my sunglasses last week.) Maybe in 2009 I will join a band of roving David Lee Roth impersonators or become the world’s first 30something mother of two supermodel. You just never know.

I just found this in the paperwork from Fresco’s birth. Wish I’d seen it months ago; we would all be a lot less deaf now.

Performance (ie: sleeping, eating, cooing) of The Baby Known As Fresco, hereafter referred to as The Baby, is contingent upon the following conditions being met. Any failure to meet these conditions in full will result in unreliable performance and an unsatisfactory baby / caregiver experience.

1. No diapers, at any time, are to be applied to any part of The Baby’s person.

2 a. The Baby must consume breastmilk only in a room which is dark and quiet. Noise and light distract The Baby from his task of consuming breastmilk.
b. The Baby reserves the right to use his teeth while extracting breastmilk.
c. The Baby reserves the right to practice climbing curtains while extracting breastmilk.
d. The Baby reserves the right to refuse breastmilk at any time and instead blow spit against the breastmilk carrier’s neck.

3. The breastmilk carrier’s neck must be available at all times for blowing spit against.

4. The flesh of any human or animal must be available at all times for The Baby’s gnawing pleasure.

5. The Baby reserves the right to tip the cat’s water dish at any time.

6. The Baby must have any surface in the room available to him for his standing practice. This might be a knee, a shoulder, a head of hair or the cat’s water dish.

7. The Baby must NOT be removed from situations deemed dangerous or messy. These situations include but are not limited to:

- chewing on power cords
- splashing in spilled water from cat’s water dish
- eating cat’s food
- licking toddler’s potty
- licking kitchen floor
- playing patty cake with Reflected Baby in the fireplace

8. The Baby does not like soothers. Except when he does.

9. The Baby will not have a nap until every surface in the house has been scaled, licked, gnawed or pooped on. The Baby is quite serious.

10. The baby will not be restrained in any way. Being restrained prevents The Baby from practicing walking. Restraints include but are not limited to:

- car seats
- strollers
- baby carriers
- your arms
- high chairs
- cribs
- play “yards”

11. Do not sit The Baby down. Sitting down amounts to restraint.

12. The Baby must have unfettered access to the following:

- toys belonging to toddler, especially The Little Lego and matchbox cars
- the cat and his food and water
- carpet lint
- dust bunnies
- any Cheerio, regardless of age, condition or location
- any venetian blind cord long enough to kill by choking / strangulation
- TV Week magazine
- bananas

13. This list subject to change at any time. Notification of change will be sent by email, carrier pigeon or telepathy. The Baby is not responsible for any messages not received.

“We’re coming,” I told my mom on the phone Wednesday morning. Snow dumping from the sky, incessant. Children running madly around the house, cabin-fevered after days of impassable sidewalks.
“OK,” she said, “Your father is worried you won’t make it around the corner.”
“What corner?”
“Um, I think all of them?”

While Fresco napped, we listened to AM 730 ALL TRAFFIC ALL THE TIME and marveled at how many semi-trucks had jack-knifed. We chose our route carefully to avoid hills and any semi-trucks. We loaded up the car with presents, food, more food, other food, overnight bags, our sled, our snow shovel, our children. We drove carefully down roads that were not that bad, really. And then we turned off a slushy main-ish road onto a side street and SA said, “Oh. I see.”

The car’s wheels found the grooves in the snow and locked in like we were on a roller coaster. We proceeded with caution and in a few minutes were within sight of my parents’ house. My father had dug out a parking spot in front of the house and his truck was sitting in it, which meant we had a spot in the garage. Sweet! 10 feet from the garage, as we turned into the alley, we crunched to a halt and the car stalled.

With my dad, my mom, the neighbour down the alley looking on, we concluded our hazardous yet incident-free journey with a sudden stop requiring fervent shoveling to get us moving again.

“I guess he meant THAT corner,” I remarked to no one in particular.

After that, a sweet, mellow Christmas.

Christmas morning at 4:50 AM, Trombone woke up and spoke, clear as a bell into the silent morning of an old sleeping house where the walls are thin enough to see through, “So. I had a good nap.” (he claimed, later, that what he said was, “I don’t want to get up,” but I think this is unlikely.)

Fresco, who was sleeping across the hall, woke up and said, “Addaaabbaaadaadaaa,” in his perky, gee whiz morning is great! oh no, I won’t be going back to sleep just yet! voice.

SA and I woke up and might have said something rude. Then we went down with Fresco and watched the fireplace channel.

Trombone, however, is so intent on being contrary that he went back to sleep. Until EIGHT O CLOCK. On CHRISTMAS. I do not remember the last time he slept until 8:00 am. Period.

Of course, once he was up, he tore strips of light through the house with his excitement.

Fresco liked his first Christmas just fine. He got a doll with long hair so he has some hair to pull. He likes her a lot. Mostly he enjoyed his day because my dad will hold his hands and walk him through the house for hours without complaining. Fresco really likes to walk. I usually insist he sit down after a few minutes because my back is sore. He doesn’t like that.

No one was sick. No one shouted. No one even cried very much. All the food turned out fantastically. By the time we left for home late yesterday afternoon, the roads were clear and even Fresco’s unjustified, incessant screaming fit for most of the drive didn’t faze us much. It was good to be there and it was good to come home. The best of both worlds.

And the boys got matching pajamas. If it gets better than that, I don’t want to know.

It just keeps snowing and snowing and snowing! Not news to you East of Surrey people but hereabouts it’s like I’m a goldfish in a tiny bowl, peeking out the window every time I pass one, gasping at the snow whirling in the streetlights, at the trees that line the boulevard outside our window starting - again - to bow with the weight of it.

Originally intending a quick trip to my parents’ this morning and then back to spend the night in our own beds, only to return to their place on Christmas morning, we have realized the folly of this (my new favourite word is folly; I recite it as I walk down the street, as I try to change Fresco’s diaper, as I attempt to complete a to-do list containing more than three items) in the face of all the snow and slush that is forecast to fall from the sky in the next 24 hours. So we are going to go there as soon as it is light and stay there overnight.

We hope. I haven’t actually run this by my mother yet, as it is too early to call her.

I suspect she won’t have a problem with it if I tell her I’m bringing my own bacon. And the grandchildren.

Happy holidays all you splendid people. For your own entertainment, please imagine an animated GIF right here with blinky Christmas tree lights around a Santa head that says Ho! Ho! Ho!