Wordless Weekend: Shhh! It's Earth Hour!

Candles in windows to light the night.
Good job, street.

Further Proof I'm Not Just Crazy

So I may have mentioned about the Spiders before, maybe once or twice?

And I've told you about how they frequently descend on silken threads from the ceiling next to me, march boldly across my shower curtain rod as I bathe, and appear in strange places all of a sudden? I've told you how they have popped out from the centre of toilet paper rolls, have appeared in my bed with me, and how I once, as I drained the last sip of tea from a cup, uncovered a spider at the bottom of it? Truly, even Misterpie, who generally writes off conspiracy thories as rampant hysteria, has had to admit that I have way more than my fair share of weird spider encounters. So. All that to set the stage. Because yes, they struck again.

I was a tag-along to a playdate today, childless, but coming for the company of lovely blogger moms kgirl, NoMo, and Motherbumper. I came along bearing a goodie, since I brought no actual play pal, and the hospitable kgirl made coffee and had a nice tray of toddler snacks all set out. So nice! We chatted about houses - her house is adorable, and full of the kind of charming details that were nearly all stripped out of ours before we got there. I was the first one there, but she poured me a cup of coffee, we chatted, she performed everything adeptly one-handed with Dove on her hip. It was all just... lovely. I poured milk into the coffee, noted a small something bobbing in my cup. A cake crumb, maybe, I wondered? I fished it out with my finger, dragged it over the edge of the cup. And then I felt it.

A firm, crunchy exoskeleton. Jointed legs curled inwards. A silken thread streaming behind it.

They got me again. And now I have a witness. Kgirl, I fully expect you to back me on any future talk of my weird attraction for spiders, which apparently I can bring with me to any location I happen to grace. Now none of the rest of you will ever invite me over. There goes my social life. Sigh.

Ancient Rhythms

I sat recently and listened to a storyteller talk of the tales and wisdom of her people. Much of her banter with the children there was informal, but as she began to tell stories and talk of lessons learned, her voice took on a different rhythm, and a tone I recognized well from many a teller, from years of listening to tales of old.

It strikes me each time I hear a teller slip into her role, the ancient rhythm, the rise and fall of volume and pitch that marks out the moments of suspense, the teachings and morals, the movement quick and slow of the story going by. Each time I listen, the hairs on my neck rise, my arms grow bumpy, and I am drawn into an almost-trance, hypnotised by something so basal, so instinctual about how tales are told.

It seems to matter not the background of the teller, the origin of the tale, the rhythm and cadence of the teller's voice is familiar, primitive, and gripping. It's a pattern of speech so different from conversation, from reading aloud, from any other use of our voice and language that I have ever heard, yet it seems to remain the same across eons and continents. It makes me wonder how out of place we would really feel, sitting around a campfire of time long past, with that familiar, comforting rhythm to surround us. It is a throwback to ancient times, a connection to our ancestors who told tales on rocks warmed by licking flame, a rhythm bound to the most basic, most primitive parts of our brain, a rhythm as familiar as our own mother's heart. And it nearly brings me to tears each time.

Remember, You Asked...

So, you had questions. No nail-pulling or thumb-screws required, I have answers.

NoMo wanted to know what muppet I am most like.

While I would love to come up with somebody cool like Janice, and while I could probably pass for a curmudgeon like Waldorf these days, I would probably venture to say Betty Lou. She's an optimist, she likes to sing, and she's clearly influenced by Dorothy Gale. Of course, as the muppet wiki notes is a common mistake, I think I am also confusing her with Prairie Dawn and compounding them into one muppet, because I was going to say she's also pretty pragmatic and it comes out on rare occasion that she's tougher than she seems. Sounds about right. So um, that made-up composite? That one. Prairie Betty Loudawn. That's me.

New reader Backpacking Dad (Hi! Welcome!) is a foodie of some order it seems, and is wondering what my favourite type of pepper is and how I like to use it. And specifies that he is speaking culinarily. Apparently he also has some imagination... ahem.

To be honest, I am a huge wimp about heat in food, and it makes it entirely unpleasant for me, so my favourite type of pepper is the green bell pepper, not any of the various capsaicin-producing varities. I love the fresh taste of green peppers though, so this is no fallback position for me. My favourite thing, truly, is to eat them raw and whole, like an apple, as one roommate described it. Of course, they are also pretty good sauteed wth onions and served with basil sausages... mmm... Sausages...

Sandra asked me for the source of my magic foot lube - I will explain that one - and what I would do if my boyfriend - that would be Matt Damon - showed up on my doorstep tomorrow. She kindly allowed me to pretend I am not in fact pregnant and nauseous at the moment for this one.

Okay, first off, let me clear up this foot lube thing... Band-aid makes a product that I blieve goes by the official name of Blister Block. It is what it sounds like - a lubricant stick, sort of resembling a mini-deodorant stick, that helps prevent blisters by letting a shoe glide over a spot on your foot where it would normally rub. This has helped me, though I think I have to find a new one this summer, because mine appears to be lost. Anyhow, it's like magic and I can't believe no one thought of foot lube before. It appears in the drugstore, and where I found it was in the bandages section, right next to the special blister bandages, in a brilliant bit of cross-marketing.

And Matt? Well... We don't have a list agreement in our house, so first off, I should get working on that. You know, pre-emptively, for his next visit to town. And of course, um, I would have a hard time staying on my feet. But once I regained my senses? Well, I'd be very torn here, because half of me would be all oh, YEAH! and half of me would be totally disappointed because part of his appeal is how amazingly nice and normal everyone says he is, emphasis on nice. And well, he's married, and cheating on your wife is not exactly nice, is it? Add to that that if I didn't have an agreement with Misterpie, I wouldn't do it. I couldn't. I know, you were hoping for something spicier, weren't you? Tell you what - go read some Hot & Bothered posts or ask crazymumma for a good trainer post to keep you going. I'll wait...

...you're back? Okay, let's carry on, then.

Mad asked me just what one good children's librarian asks another: What is my favourite read-aloud for the four-year-old set? But, oh dear. How to answer that?

I mean, I tell you all about books I enjoy in terms of picture books every week, and often about what has been on repeat play in our house. We read about five picture books a night, on average, and fairy tales often factor among these. Or do you think she meant chapter books to read aloud? Pumpkinpie has been loving the "my naughty little sister" stories by Dorothy Edwards. I had high hopes for Stuart Little, but he wasn't catching on. Paddington seems to work well. But I also love reading poetry. One of our picture book selections is often enough a Dennis Lee, or Here's a Little Poem. I must dredge up my old copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends soon, too. So, um, I'm not sure I have a good answer here because I love so much. I love old, story-teller-ish tales, I love silly, rollicking books, I love a meatier chapter story. One recent great silly hit with 8 kindergarten classes in one day, one that never misses, is Bark, George, by Jules Feiffer. But well, you know, it totally depends on what you are looking for. This is not a good answer, really, but the closest I can come to answering! Parents who ask me for advice often leave with a heap of books. What can I say, I'm passionate about them, and I love to share. Hence the MBT column.

Mama Tulip wanted to talk books as well, wondering what I would want on a desert island. Oh, NO!

I think it would have to be one of those massive, dense things that could keep me busy over and over, like a complete works of Shakespeare, or maybe an Oxford English Dictionary. I mean, who knows how long I'll be there? I can't think of many other things that I could read over and over.

Mama Tulip, because she is a question machine, also asked about the impending two-child situation. What am I most looking forward to and what am I most nervous about?

I am looking forward to some of the toddler stuff again, and to seeing Pumpkinpie get the sibling she so desperately hopes for. The stuff that makes me nervous is almost exclusively the business of getting through the newborn stage - the sleeplessness, the trying to sort out breastfeeding, that stuff. But other than that, I worry a bit about having enough patience, especially if the next one is not as easy as Pumpkinpie's first couple of years were.

Mrs. Huis asked what I hoped Pumpkinpie will get out of being a big sister, and what The Bun will get out of being a small [sibling of as-yet unknown variety].

Well, Pumpkinpie has been asking for a baby sister for over a year, now (we have explained that parents don't get to pick boys or girls). I think she'll be a great big sister, and once the little one grows older, I think they could be great friends. I think The Bun could learn a lot from her - she's a smart kid, and loves to share parties, songs, stories, and so on. I think it could be a lovely relationship for both of them. I hope!

And because my uterus is a hot topic around these parts, HBM asked me what I most loved and most hated about this second pregnancy.

I must admit, mostly I am hating this because of the sick factor, which makes it hard to concentrate on anything else. And I am also finding a huge difference in my mental state about it - I am not so blissfully ignorant this time, so I just keep trying to ignore it and put off thinking about it until all the testing is done, because getting excited seems like setting myself up for failure, now that I know how very many things can go awry. And even then... But at the same time, I am liking that I am more able to ignore it and get on with life, it doesn't dominate my every thought like the first one did, which is nice. Plus, feeling only fairly sick now as opposed to horribly sick earlier helps give me some perspective!

The very adventurous kgirl asked if there was anything I never did that I really hope my kids do. Ah. ooh. Tough one.

I was a totally cautious child. Any hint something wasn't safe or a smart idea, and I would walk away. Which leaves me with no regrets over doing stupid things. Her answers to the question meme made me totally cringe, but also make me realize that my assumptions that people who took risks and drugs and so on would end up dead or otherwise in a really bad way may not have been completely accurate! Mostly, though, I hope my kids do walk a slightly looser line, especially when it comes to physical daring. I would like to have a kid who would climb a tree or try gymnastics without worrying about broken bones. I think I missed some of that good, clean, standard kid fun.

Kyla went double-barrelled, too (I hear they're like that in Texas), and wanted to know both my favourite movie and my most embarrassing moment.

Favourite movie? When I was a kid, I'd have said The Wizard of Oz. In high school, Gone With the Wind. Now, I'd have a hard time choosing one, but a few that really stand out for me in the past ten years or so would be Good Will Hunting, Brokeback Mountain, and Crash.

Embarrassing? Kyla, I'm always embarrassed. I'm shy, and partly British. But it used to be way worse when I was younger, and I seem to recall feeling the worst in those early days of having periods, when they were not quite set in a firm rhythm yet and you'd get caught out and it felt like such a huge deal.

Mrs. Huis asked for my most outrageous library patron story...

I've written about plenty of library madness, mostly odd questions or the total eye-rolling moments. We have plenty of pople who think they are very important and make us want to drop all professionalism and shout right back, and plenty of parents who can't possibly be denied something for their child - who probably reads 16 years above his grade level, btw. And, of course, there are plenty of stories involving bodily fluids, like the people - both adult and child - who can't seem to bring themselves to get up out of a chair to go pee, and pee in the library chair, instead. Ew. Or the man who couldn't wait for the bathroom and just peed in the hall - guess whose masters degree was used to mop that up? We had some good ones in New York, though, including one woman who threw up all over the bathroom, then insisted she was fine, came into the branch, threw up in a garbage can, insisted she was fine now, got a few books, and then threw up right in the exit gates on the carpet, causing major tie-ups as we tried to clean it up while other people needed to try to exit the library! Whatever possesses people?

And Chicky wanted to hear an old boyfriend who got away tale.

You know, I was always a relationship girl, so I really only have two boyfriends who seemed like a big deal - remember, I also met Misterpie when I was 19! Can't say I regret losing either one, given I have Misterpie, but here's the deal. One, let's call him Ted, was a bit of a flake, in hindsight, so while we did some interesting stuff together, it was also too much drama and he was never going to be someone to settle into the kind of more regular life I would want. The other, let's call him Andy, was someone I had a very close relationship with for a long time, and we had plans for the future and all of that, but we just kind of grew in different directions, as you can imagine might happen with a couple of 16-17 year olds. He's one I was sorry to see go at the time but because we were really good friends at the essence of it, we were able to reconnect at that level once the other stuff wore off, about a year later. Now he seems like a brother of sorts to me. I am still friendly with him, and we email about once a year or when there is some news, like his wedding last year (I think it was last year?) We see each other about every five years or so, go to lunch, walk away amazed that we are so different, but also finding it neat that we still can talk easily.

Apparently the librarian thing has people curious, because Marla was wondering what I would tell a young person who said they wanted to be a librarian.

To be honest, I love what I do, and wouldn't discourage someone at all - but I would maybe tell them a bit about what the job really entails, because it seems people often don't really know for sure. I would suggest to them, too, that an after school job in a library or one during university might give them a glimpse of it, too, not to mention making a pretty nice part-time job.
(and no, I'm not ready for the napless child, but seem to have one anyhow. sigh.)

Oh, Lisa... dear to my own heart yet totally crazy-making is the naming of babies. She wants to know about names I might use or would totally not use.

Well, I'm only in the earliest stages of our long and painful naming process, so I'm not spilling anything there yet, but I will tell you of some names I've loved but won't use, how about that? For many years, I planned to name my future daughter Caitlin, but the name sort of got taken over by the kreatif spellers and became a fixture of top name lists and I met too many little Katelynns with bad teeth and bad grammar, and had to scrap that name. Like many names, I loved both Amelia and Peyton - both were on my (vetoed) list for pumpkinpie in fact - but now I know people who have used them, and it seems awkward. For a boy, I was going to use Julian if Pumpkinpie surprised me - another one I had been toting around with me for years. But again, now it's become really popular all of a sudden, so it won't be used. Same with Callum - I keep meeting little Callums in toddler times. Why the shying away from the popular so strongly? Well, Pumpkinpie and The Bun have a very common and pretty dull last name, so I feel like I need to give them something a little more individual up front, though not too out there, either. Just something with a little pizzazz, so they won't be one of many on both counts. So I'm starting from square one for the Bun.
(and yes, Lisa, I'd let Misterpie go out for an afternoon again, but I might pre-arrange some sort of deal where I get something in return!)

Crazymumma thinks my spider issues are hilarious, and is wondering what my deal is with all the fear.

Frankly, I blame it on the convergence of Owl magazine and the raw constance of them appearing in unexpected places. When I was a child, Owl ran a full centrefold of a spider, closeup. It totally freaked me out. Eight eyes, mandibles of death, hairy-faced. Blech. I'm busting out in goose bumps just thinking about it right now. Add to that the fact that spiders visiting me is not a new thing - one appeared in my bed with me when I was a kid, and the spider plants at the cottage were rife with them. They would drop down on strands of silk from the skylight in the cottage loft where we liked to play monopoly, and make not infrequent cameos in my showers. Truly, it's enough to make anyone a bit creeped out.

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I think that was everyone... Must now go and nap, because I can't tell you how many times this week I tried to work on this, only to have Blogger fuck me over on the saving. I answered some of you three or four times!

Herd the Latest?

Today a cattle truck tipped, leaving several steers loose in a suburban neighbourhood just on the outskirts of Toronto. Several were rounded up from back yards, but not without some injuries to people involved in the herding. Finally, the last one charged officers, and was shot dead in what was described in some news reports as a "hail of bullets."

Sad, that animals were potentially injured, certainly frightened and out of their element, and that one had to die in the end. Sad, yes. But... SOOOOOO many jokes to be had here, people. I just can't help myself. I love a bad pun, and it's just ripe for the picking, isn't it?

I mean... can you see the headlines tomorrow?

A load of bull spilled in Toronto today - and politicians had nothing to do with it!
Steering Committee to Review Shooting
Bessie and Clyde Shootout in Mississauga
Truck Driver To Be Charged in Animal Nuisance, Traffic Beef
The Steer That Wouldn't Be Cowed

oh jeez. There's something there about a different kind of horns causing trouble on the roadway. Maybe something about head out on the highway. A driver comment about how he couldn't steer his rig. I just can't stand it. Yet somehow I feel it's not all that appropriate to joke about an animal dying. Help me out here - give me the worst you've got and join me on the dark side. Please? I tell you, nothing makes my day like some really cheesy word play.

Substitute My Coke For Gin

You know what makes me nuts about being pregnant? I mean yes, the nausea sucks, the discomfort of stretching skin and muscle and ligaments is no fun, and the repeat bathroom visits are getting old. Even the restless nights are losing their appeal. But the thing that gets me down? Is all the good stuff that is off-limits, and will be for a loooong time coming. It's depressing for someone who makes a practice of not depriving herself all the time. So I've set about trying to figure out decent, passable substitutes for some of my favourite things that are now verboten.

First off, let me say that I made the discovery that now one or two cups of caffeine are considered okay, so I am just limiting myself to one caffeinated beverage a day, and then I figure that leaves me room for little incidentals like the traces of caffeine found in decaf, in chocolate, and in the espresso powder that I've been sprinkling on my ice cream along with chocolate syrup (which, btw, makes for a passable imitation of the base of a cappucino skor blizzard, in case you are in need of one, just so you know). So I'm doing okay on that, and trying to learn to drink a bit more water. I sometimes miss my tea of an evening, but I'll get over that one.

Misterpie has figured out that a nicer cut of steak rubbed with salt and pepper can be done to a medium-well that keeps it still fairly tender. It's a concession for someone who prefers her steak bloody, but the rub boosts the flavour, and the better meat keeps it softer, so it's quite acceptable for the mean time. At least I can have some steak. Plus, since I worried that the iron in my maternity vitamins might be contributing to the nausea, I went off them until I feel better, and I'm just taking folic acid and calcium, so I figure I must need the iron, right? I mean, baby spinach can only carry you so far.

Misterpie has also found a nice happy medium on the cooking of salmon. We usually have it a little rare, which is nice, but he has figured out where the line is between cooked enough and getting dry, and walks it fairly consistently. He's a good man, he is. So I can eat my salmon cooked.

I miss sushi a lot, I must admit. California rolls, miso soup, and the yummy salad go part of the way towards satisfying the japanese itch, so I am trying to convince myself that that is good enough while I hold out for a massive platter of fish to be delivered to the hospital as soon as I get the go-ahead to eat real food after The Bun has come out of the oven. Which is what we did after Pumpkinpie came out, too, eaten while watching a Leafs game that time. (Wrong season this time, but the sushi is the important part, anyhow!)

Wine and cheese is another area... I did ask about pasteurized brie, and my doctor gave me the go-ahead, so this week I bought myself a nice little slab and dug in. Ahhhhhh. That helps. And as for wine, I have found that the worst cravings can be helped by taking a small sip, about half a mouthful, and swirling it around in my mouth for a minute or two. It gives me that sensation of breathing in the fumes, a good heady dose of flavour, without really consuming more the tiniest touch of alcohol. PC Organics' Sparkling Red Grape Juice has a nice rich colour and flavour, and even a hint of wine-iness to it, for times when you want to sip a glass or two while reading, too. Not bad, certainly better than nothing.

So I'm getting there. But still - six more months. How can I keep myself from dwelling on the deprivation? I think that's the worst of it, really. Did you find suitable substitutions for your most-missed items, too? It seems like all my favourites are on the red list.

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And speaking of substitutes - have you noticed Erica Hill on CNN? If you've met Sandra of Blog Chocolate, does she not remind you of her, especially in her expressions and her smile? Except for the dark brown hair? It's like Blog Chocolate gone, well, chocolate. Tell me if I'm right and those who haven't met her can go check out Erica as a sub, or if I've just gone off my rocker. That could happen, I admit.

Mama's Little Helper

I sat in the bath with Pumpkinpie last night, washing her hair, when she started talking to me about some work involved in looking after her "baby" - her baby doggie lovey, that is. She doesn't yet know that there is a bun in the oven, but I thought it was a good time for a little snuck-in lesson on babies, something I do every now and then when the opportunity presents itself.

"Mm-hm, Pumpkinpie, babies are a lot of work," I concurred. "Especially at first."

"Yeah, they are," she nodded sagely.

"But you know, if we got a baby some day, you could be a lot of help, because you are getting to be a pretty big girl, right? You could help us get wipeys for the baby's bottom and bring me a diaper when I need one, you could share some of your favourite stories with the baby..."

"And I could rock the baby to sleep!"

Oh, sweet. I think the bathwater may have gone up a degree or two, with me melting into a little puddle in there. I worry sometimes that she might feel a little displaced, especially because our timing is so rotten she'll be going to school just as the baby is born and I start staying home with The Bun, but at times like this, I know we'll be just fine.

Back on the Chain Gang

So this week being March BREAK, we decided to take some time to relax by, you know, doing what people do to relax. Donning hardhats, swinging sledgehammers, yanking and prying with crowbars, and hefting loads of splintery old lath out the window. Isn't this how you pass your holidays, too?

I count as part of my ancestry, among other people, the Norsemen. Norwegians. Vikings, I suspect, because destruction seems to be in my blood. Truly, I love this stuff. And I'm pretty good at it, too. Wouldn't you say? Misterpie, too, of course, he is responsible for much of this, but his more staid family is not as likely to find it amusing to have ancestral peoples noted for being crazy hooligans as I do. No, I embrace the Celts and the Vikings, and why not? Sometimes it's fun to be a destructive menace.


Of course, not only the house took a beating. Misterpie was apparently using his body for leverage with the crowbar, and has a series of small red bruises across his abdomen. But the silly man wouldn't let me show you.

Me, I am sporting a lovely bluey-purple bruise on my arm. It doesn't show up all that well since I am rather bluish in tone to begin with, but I am not too proud to show you my war wound. Here it is:

When an irresistible force such as your arm on an upswing
Meets an old immovable object like a solid wooden window frame,
Something's gotta give, something's gotta give, something's gotta give.
(And it's usually going to be the soft fleshy part of the equation, just a hint.)

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And - still taking questions for a few more days!

I will produce some answers next week.

Wordless Wednesday: Voiture du Voisin

Ceci est une automobile.

A grump, a poem, and a meme walked into a bar...

... and apparently sat down and wrote this post for me... Yup, random pie it is. In that order.

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This weekend.
Saturday, shortly before a friend of Pumpkinpie's came over to play, one who has never been over before. We discover that the stinky she's been mentioning is located in a sort of soft bin containing giant legos and other assorted bits of random toy junk, as bins tend to do. Along with copious quantities of cat pee, since some furry ne'er-do-weel has apparently decided this was an alternate litter box, sans litter. Fracking fantastic.

Saturday afternoon, Pumpkinpie and I have a major set-to about nap time. She is kicking me with two feet, I am losing it. She carries on throughout her "nap time," defying, opening her door and leaving her room, screaming at me, pounding on her door to get my attention, acting like a little hooligan. After nap is not too much better. I am left with little patience for this new phase of pushing me at all times. My voice is raised too often, and she is warned that she is on the verge of losing her beloved ritual of before-bed sports. Things calm down.

Sunday, Misterpie runs into a neighbour playing outside with Pumpkinpie, and is invited to a basketball game for the afternoon. Following which he must run errands to Home Depot and buy milk and other assorted necessaries. Pumpkinpie again battles over naptime, again pushing and oppositional at every turn. Misterpie is gone for hours, returning long after naptime is over. Meanwhile, Pumpkinpie and I have gone from bad to worse. I have taken away a rock that was thrown, then raised my voice in anger over being hit as a result. I have taken away a blanket that was used to hit me. At each raised voice, she counters with a tearful, "You scared me!" At a grabbed arm to stop a striking, she wails that I have hurt her - I am certain I have not. This blatant manipulating is not helping. At one point, she loses her sports privileges. I have had it. Finally, when she throws a beach ball full at my face, I grab it, wrestle it from her hands, pop the valve, and force the air out of it before her sobbing, shocked eyes. She is like one possessed, screaming, red-faced. I see we have both pushed too far, put it up high out of reach - the lesson still applies, after all - and take her hand. I pull her on my lap, hold her to me, kiss the silken spun gold of her hair, and speak low, suggesting we both need to calm down. We read stories. We reattach, try to blot out the ugly afternoon and move forward. The upset resurfaces briefly at bedtime, but she is tired, I tuck her in with many stories and tell her I love her and I hope tomorrow will be better, and she soon gives in to her badly-needed sleep.

Still, I am angry and worn, tired of her constant arguing and testing, tired of yelling, too aggravated to respond any better, too sick and tired and out of my own usual calmer self to be the mother I want to be in the face of this. I am resenting Misterpie leaving me to this, though I know that to be unfair, irrational, and mostly the product of hindsight.

I am wrung out by the weekend, and looking forward to work tomorrow, when I can leave Pumpkinpie to someone else to handle for a day while I regroup.

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The eensy weensy spider climbs up the bathroom sink
He hit the drain with a tiny little plink
Down came the flood and washed the bug away
And kittenpie, victorious, shouted out, "Hooray!"

Yes, my first spider of the year was an early February appearance, the second today. Last year's spider count started in May, when the season really got under way, but this year's winter doesn't seem to be keeping them down any just yet. Sigh. I need to start another tally, I suppose. I just thought I might get to wait until a little later.

It's funny that a woman told me today about spider being the native weaver of dreams, and yet I never remember dreaming. Only spiders.

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And hey - all the cool kids are doing it, and I'm too tired to think up my own ideas, so why not use your brains? Yep, I'm up next for the ask me anything and I'll give you answers challenge. Put your questions in comments, people, and give my poor addled brain something to work with, won't you please?

Mission: Accomplished

According to Mrs. Huis, it's some sort of list month version of NaBloPoMo. While I won't put you or I through trying to post every day, I will make today a list in honour of this format, of which I am rather fond in real life anyhow.

Here's the thing - I finally managed to put together a spring/summer maternity wardrobe that I think I will be happy with. With enough range and versatility to see me through work and park visits, enough pieces to keep me from my boredom and from running out of laundry, and that should be lightweight and easy care enough for me not to curse it through the summer months, when I will be at my hugest (and likely most miserable, though I'm not sure how I can top the grossness of now). It's a tough job, what with maternity designers being a bunch of satan's minions, but I'm persistent and I won't lower my standards, seeing as they're already only middling. Why go even lower? And since it was a tough job done over a few weeks of marathon shopping Fridays, and since I know a person or two who is in the same boat I am for this summer, I'm going to share my finds with you. (And mimi, here is where I will throw my middle class training out the window and even note prices (!) for the sake of helping and because I think I did okay. I mean, I spent more than you really want to spend on stuff you'll wear for four months tops, but still, not much was exhorbitant. As I said, I'm a pretty good shopper.)

First Thanks go to the Bay for:
-making everywhere else look pretty damn good
-depressing me at the thought that these might be my options (much of what I described last week was from my first Bay trip)
-perking me up on my second store attempt by producing a skirt I might wear anyhow, a sort of comfy, almost cool-looking, casual beige affair that will be good for sandbox or work alike
-and plain, simple T-shirts that look like they might have enough room, are made of nice cotton and spandex material, are pretty nice and thick, and come in a deep red I love as well as plain black. I like darker colours better for this, since when they pull across pockets and whatnot, they don't show every stitch, they camouflage a bit better. I need that, since I have hips and a butt to shoehorn into the shirt along with my growing belly. This is my I normally wear shirts ending at the hip, but maternity shirts are longer, of course.
-a very nice faux wrap dress of black with a crisp white pattern of outlines squares on it. Very DVF, and great for work or going out to something in.
-a total of about $175 for those 4, not great, not bad.

Thanks also to Motherhood for:
- A faux wrap dress in a pattern of dark brown with small splotches of orange, white, and baby blue that falls just on the right side of the cute-retro-70s-feel versus horrid-authentic-70s-prints divide. Cute with brown cardi and tights for spring, too.
-a fun, flirty, black-and-white spotted dress that could do for work or be dressed up with nice dress clips and cute shoes. This would totally work if we have any things to go to this summer.
-A simple grey dress of T-shirt fabric that looks comfy and forgiving and not that hot. yay!
-A very cute grey V-neck, empire-waist sweater in a slightly pointelle-ish knit that looks like it might not necessarily be maternity wear.
-A nice V-neck baby blue T-shirt with back ties - a lighter colour, but it's a good colour on me I think it will be nice with black skirts, and those don't have any back pockets or belt loops for it to outline if it pulls snug. Also on sale, which is nice.
-a total of $205 for all of that, a highlight being the dressier dress at a mere$40. Sweet.
-the belly in the change room, which on top of my belly comes somewhere close to how enormous I got with Pumpkinpie. Good for a laugh, a cry, a quick nap, and also verifying that most shirts just don't have the room I suspect I'll need without making my butt look shrink-wrapped.
-making me giggle inside by telling me your designers are so good that some of your customers aren't even pregnant! (WTF? Who are these people?)
-But boo for the no-refund policy. Maybe if I really can't avoid water I'll summer, I'll use it on maternity swimwear, since they are one of the few places that seemed to carry that.

And thanks to Old Navy for:
-A nice brown V-neck, empire waist T-shirt that makes a nice silhouette. The fabric is pretty thin, though, or I would have got the lovely lighter turquoise a great colour, but again with the darker colours hiding better. I could see the edges of my bra in the lighter colours already. But the brown is nice.
-a pair of beige shorts that were quite acceptable as shorts go, perfect for park visits and splashing in the wading pool
-a pair of beige capris that would be equally fine at play or work
-a nice sale on the shorts and capris - a mix-and-match sale on all maternity shorts and capris at 2 for $50! Pretty sweet, since I think the capris were $40 regularly anyhow, and the shorts $30.
-the T-shirt added another $20.

And finally, thanks to H&M's tiny maternity section for:
- a very nice deep pink linen sleeveless tunic-y top with back ties
- a cute black flippy jersey skirt that was not maternity, but was near enough to that section that it caught my eye and it is so stretchy it will totally work. It came in black with grey circles, too, but only in smaller sizes, so not enough to accommodate the belly I'm working on here.
-a black pencil skirt in a kind of cut I hadn't seen before on maternity clothes. The "waistband" was cut high in the back and scooped really low in front, leaving room for a thick cotton stretchy band to fill in the gap. Thing is, this makes for the ability to cut the actual skirt really close to the body without having to accommodate for extra fabric to stretch out. This skirt is sexier than most skirts I wear when I'm not pregnant, actually, and I couldn't resist it, even though it is not strictly summer wear, because the fitted on the bottom for a change would make a nice counterpoint to a looser top. In fact, I could wear it with tights and a nice blouse in early spring and look pretty damn fine. It even makes my butt look half-decent, and who doesn't need that lift when they're the size of a small sailing vessel?
-total of about $105 for three items.

Oh, and heck, let's not forget to mention Gap maternity for:
-having the oddest looking long-sleeved Ts with a sort of ruched belly pouch that would look downright weird until you are actually quite huge, making the life of maternity clothes even shorter
-having a really cute and promising dress, but totally disappointing me by making it out of rayon, which needs more care than I am willing to give it
-having cute cardigans, but only in XS.
-having cami-tanks that looked like they might even have room for a belly (unlike Old Navy's which are about the same size as normal, only longer - thanks), but that cost so muchI laughed out loud
-having only one top that tempted me, but at $65, being beyond what I was really willing to drop on it, and so leaving me untempted to spend any more for now. Maybe some day on sale, whaddya say?

So all told, four dresses, three skirts, shorts and capris, four Tshirts, one sleeveless top, one short-sleeved sweater. Somewhere between $550-575 in total. Which makes me cringe a bit, but should keep me covered and comfy and that, in the end, is pretty well worth it, I do believe.

And that, I think, should hold me very well once the weather gets a smidge warmer. Meanwhile, should I need them, my maternity clothes from last time are all for winter - hence the shopping expeditions. Whee. But so far, I am making do with 1-size-up pants, one or two pairs of normal pants that still amazingly work, though not for much longer, and looser shirts and sweaters. But really, bring on the warmer weather, already! I am damn good and ready, and now so is my closet.

Where's My Bee Suit?

Am bad, over-busy, over-tired blogger.
May have half a brain to post with this weekend - three days, and all.
Meanwhile, new reviews at kittenpie reads, new lists at MommyBlogsToronto, so at least you can't say I'm not giving you anything to read!
Hey, other people write stuff, why not enjoy them?

Weekend Bits and Pieces

Shortly after lights-out in the 'Pie bedroom Saturday night, there came from downstairs a noise. The kind of noise that suggests the cats are having a rumpus. The kind of rumpus that suggests that tufts of fur are flying as thick and fast as our all-too-common blizzards of late.

I comment: I think that's the cats.

Misterpie leaps out of bed and heads downstairs to bust it up. I hear him scolding them a moment later.

Guys! Knock it off! I! JUST! VACUMMED!

He came upstairs to be greeted by my gales of laughter, and my note that I was so blogging that.

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And hey, does it count as ironic whne you puke up your anti-nausea meds?
Yep, Saturday was fine until about mid-afternoon, and the rest of the weekend was a bust.
Misterpie went to the second birthday party without me, and braved skating with my mother and Pumpkinipe alone while I lay abed, as I did for most of Saturday night and Sunday. At least this wasn't the weekend of the blogger party... 12 weeks Monday. It's got to get better soon, right? Right?