Finnegan

Sally is an amazing woman that I know in a few different capacities. She attended Gwen's birth as a friend and as a birth doula. She knitted Gwen's first article of clothing, the "Sally hat," as I always called it. She stayed here for a week after Gwen's birth to help me figure out how to care for this tiny person, and support me through all the ups and downs of post-partum. She was there when the Norovirus plague hit the house, and it hit her too.

During the week that she stayed here, dividing her time between working on schoolwork and cuddling a newborn, she talked a lot about getting a puppy. She even went so far as to start surfing Craigslist and other online classifieds looking for a furry companion for herself and her partner, Dean.

Shortly after she went home, they adopted Finnegan, an adorable little fuzzface who, being part miniature pinscher, was never going to get very much bigger. He was just under four pounds when they brought him home.

When Sally and I had the opportunity to chat, in person or via email, we often compared notes on mothering a puppy and mothering a newborn. They are actually shockingly similar: both keep you up at night; both significantly alter your social lives; both are terribly dependent on you for their safety, shelter, and food; both prevent Quality Couple Time (if y'know what I mean, and I THINK YOU DO).

Last July, we got our our first opportunity to meet Finnegan when Sally came to visit. We really enjoyed it. Gwen was very interested in the fuzzy baby, though not entirely sure what to make of him. Finnegan didn't care too much about Gwen, either way (she hadn't started eating solid foods yet, so there was no benefit to sticking close by). This past May, though, Sally and Finnegan stopped by again for a brief visit, and this time the two kids - furry and non-furry - got along great. Gwen "barked" at Finnegan until he returned the favour with a shrill yip: Gwen jumped a little, then cocked her head to the side and started trying to imitate the sound. She shared her food, he shared her toys, and Sally and I continued our dialogue about the joys and difficulties of parenthood.

Last night, Finnegan passed away suddenly. Sally wrote, "He had a congenital diaphragmatic hernia, which we didn't know about until around midnight. He was meant to have surgery this morning to repair it, but didn't make it through the night as his intestines were pressing on his chest cavity causing trauma.

"He had been fine earlier in the day, frolicking and playing with our families ... He was only sick for a few hours."

I've never had a dog before, and have never really been in the position of grieving for a pet, but I'm a lot sadder than I would have expected about this. It seems especially unfair that it happened so quickly, and that Finnegan was so young. After some thought, I realized that because Sally adopted Finnegan so soon after Gwen's birth, I strongly associate those two events. In a way, Sally and I became mothers at the same time, and shared those experiences with each other. So today, I am grieving as one mother for another. I know how heartbroken she and Dean must feel, and I feel so sad for them both.

Random Blather

Dear Gwen's Next Tooth:

JUST POP OUT ALREADY. SRSLY. HOLY CRAP.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

How is everyone out in internet land? Though I'm feeling a bit blue and more than a bit tired at the moment, on the whole things are going really, really well for us here. Feel like I really should be updating more, but at the same time I am trying not to let myself spend too much time on the computer while I'm at home. Let's see if I can hit the highlights ...

Gwen is starting to try to say her name. So far it's just "Ga" while she points to her own chest. It's pretty cute. And if you think about it, the cognitive processes indicated here are kind of mind-boggling.

Work is going really, really well for me at the moment. The Big Decision I have to make has been put off, as there is a hiring freeze on at the moment due to this Whole Economy Thing. So in the meantime I am filling the position temporarily, getting a feel for it, without losing my flex days. This is a very temporary grace period but in the meantime I am enjoying that, and actually appreciating the new and interesting challenges at work. No one is more surprised than me. For the first time in about five years, I am working at a job where my work is not finished at the end of the day when I go home. I gather this is how most of the world operates ALL THE TIME. At first it made me anxious, because I am so used to Finishing Everything Way Ahead of Schedule, but now I am actually appreciating how quickly the days go and how much variety there is in my job.

Last Monday when Chris dropped off Gwen and the daycare payment for July, Denise realized - by the amount on the cheque - that we had entirely forgotten about the fact that she was taking the first week of July off. It was completely our fault: she mentioned it when we interviewed her, but it was all so hypothetical that we didn't take too much notice, and then it completely slipped our minds. Fortunately, Chris's mom (O bless the wonders of local, retired grandparents!) was able to step in and take her for four days this past week instead of her usual one. Gwen had a terrific week with her Gramma, of course. We are incredibly grateful to her for saving our bacon: grateful enough that we took the money saved on daycare, converted it to Euro, and gave it to her for her Europe trip later this year.

Gwen has a lot of words now, though she doesn't always use them consistently. It's like she makes up her mind, on a particular day, to mimic everything we say and thus learn, like, TEN new words. Then the next day, no matter what I do, she won't mimic me at all. Some new words are:
Animal (in response to a puppet I have that looks like this)
Bus
Ball
Duck (and Quack)
Bird (and Caw)

She is also getting to the stage where putting things away in boxes can be an entertaining pastime for her. Every night when I put her to bed we take these out of the box, read a few, and then put them all back away. She needs a lot of encouragement, but she does put them back in the box. So far, this aptitude does not extend to a desire to help put any of her other toys away. One thing at a time ...

My Girl

Everywhere we go, they say she looks like Chris.

"Wow, Laura, she looks EXACTLY like ... (dramatic pause) ... your husband!"

My favourite is when a stranger comments on her beauty, and then follows it up with "I guess she looks like her daddy!" Um, wait, did you just call me ugly?

She has my blue eyes. That much is inarguable. But as for the rest of her, they all say she looks just like her dad.

But I see something more. If her eyes are blue like mine, maybe I can take credit for the mischievous twinkle in them as well. I see myself in her smile, her silliness, her familiar tendency to grab all the attention in the room and entertain everyone for as long as she can.

It could be wishful thinking, but I see it. Do you?

Gwen's first ice cream cone

Two hours' parking in the underground garage - $1.00

Trip to the playground - free

Playtime at the library - free

Two gigantic stacks of books, one for Gwen and one for Mom - free

"Baby"-sized ice cream cone (yeah right) - $2.00


My flex days - priceless.

Canada Day

Those who can do math will already know that today was not Gwen's first Canada Day. However, after spending most of the day endeavouring with maddening futility to remember what we did last Canada Day, I am declaring this the first Canada Day that Gwen actually celebrated/participated in/enjoyed. (My blog, although it usually serves as an external brain in these cases, was no help: all I posted last year was a diatribe about people who criticize other people's parenting. Even my Google Calendar let me down, with the only event noted there being "EI Payment". Hey, what can I say - non-working parents have differing priorities.)

Anyway, today was a terrific day. After Gwen's nap, we went outside and enjoyed the gorgeous sunshine. We had filled Gwen's inflatable pool and I guess it looked pretty inviting, because she walked right into it - fully clothed. Her pool has this attachment you can plug a hose into and then water will spray out into the pool: I turned that on, and she thought it was just the living end. She had a blast. She played in there for a good 20 minutes. For Gwen to stay in a 3-foot radius for 20 minutes is quite remarkable. She got out and got dried off, but a few minutes later she decided to take another dip.

At some point during the into-the-pool, out-of-the-pool game I decided to take her sandals off, and when she got back out of the pool she spent some time walking around our yard in bare feet. That's the first time she's done that: just one month ago, I wrote that she didn't like walking around our yard at all. It is sort of a big deal to me, too, since my memories of summer don't often include shoes. I think when I was in elementary school I probably didn't wear shoes at any time between June and September, and only grudgingly during the two months on either side of that. So it makes me happy to see my girl walking around barefoot too.

I noticed that Gwen's cherry tree - I call it "her tree" because it bloomed for the first time on the day she was born - had actually produced some cherries. This, too, is notable, because it's the first time that's happened as well! Chris picked a few for her, and I got the pits out and fed them to her. She was delighted, with juice running down her chin and hands gesturing for "more".

I also had the pleasure of giving Gwen home-baked bread today. Baking my own bread is just one of those things that makes me feel good, even if it is with the use of a breadmaker and not exactly the way the pioneers used to do it. I'm pretty sure this is the first time since Gwen was born that I've managed to make bread. As with all things food, she enjoyed it heartily.

It was a great, relaxing day with a lot of special little first moments. At some point during the pool frolicing I thought, "I should get the camera," but then I dismissed the thought, choosing instead to just hang out with my daughter and enjoy the moment, rather than attempt to record it. So instead of photos, you have a wordygirl's recollections of the day.

Here's hoping your Canada Day was just as enjoyable.

Gwen and the slide

My parents bought Gwen this slide for her first birthday, and I put together a goofy little video of her playing on it for them to enjoy.

Big Night Out - The Recap

Chris and I dropped Gwen off at the grandparents' at 4pm. I had a brief moment of worry because I thought it might be weird for her to be dropped off by both of us: in general, Chris drops her off at daycare or Gramma's, and we take turns picking her up. On the other hand, I couldn't very well just sit on the couch watching downloaded episodes of Chuck while Chris drove out to Nanoose and back, so we went together. My worry may have been justified: Gwen was very happy to see Gramma and Grandpa, and set about exploring immediately, but when Chris and I said "Bye-bye" and walked out the door, she gave us very confused and annoyed looks through the window.

An actual conversation that took place last night, which may only be funny if you know Keith and Karen:
Chris: I gave them my cell phone number "just in case".
Laura: They won't call, you know. Gwen would have to be missing a limb for them to call.
Chris: Even then, they probably wouldn't call.
Laura: No, they'd call the next day. "Hi guys, it's just me, I don't want you to worry or anything, but when you come get Gwen, she's missing a limb."
Chris: "We found it though, so we just packed it in with her pajamas and stuff."
Laura: "And then we gave her some ice cream, so she feels much better now."

We came home to an empty house, which was super weird, and decided to head out for an early dinner since the play was general seating. We got all fancied up in swanky clothes and then realized there was no one to take a picture of us in all our hotness. We did our best though.

For our dinner we chose The Keg, for the simple and beautiful reason that we had gift cards for it. Chris ordered a whole lobster and I ordered the Bleu Cheese Filet. We did not discuss Gwen, her diaper rash, or my job, but instead spent the lengthy dinner talking mostly about church politics (as I am on Church Council). My husband is the most patient and understanding man in the entire world, because that is the most boring subject ON EARTH.

I, however, learned that it takes a goodly long time to eat a lobster. When he finally finished, the play was due to start in only 25 minutes. There was then this kerfuffle about how only one person in the restaurant knew how to process gift cards and that person was perpetually elsewhere. We were getting slightly panicked because whenever we go out to any kind of theatre production (which used to be far more often than now) we always make sure to get there in plenty of time, and inevitably after the lights go down and the show begins a group of Those People shuffle in, Those People who don't bother to show up on time and have to be seated in the dark while some poor soul with a flashlight bravely attempts to find them seats, and whomever is trying to start the show is feeling all awkward, and all the people who got there on time are all annoyed and maybe even have to get up to let These People through, and then Those People settle into their seats and take off their coats and hats and chitter-chat amongst themselves and try to find their programs in the dark and just generally do all the things that they should have done 30 minutes earlier, and Chris and I always exchange looks and snotty comments about how rude and ignorant Those People are. So now it's 15 minutes until the play begins and we are still standing in the restaurant waiting to pay and we look at each other with this sad, desperate look, and I say, "We're going to be Those People." And Chris nods in resignation.

But miracles do happen, and the one knowledgeable waitstaff did arrive, and we were able to pay and depart and we made it to the theatre (which was only about half full) in good time, so crisis was averted.

And the play was absolutely mind-blowingly terrific, and we both had a really great time. And then we came home again to an empty house and stood right outside Gwen's room talking loudly, because that's the kind of giddy crazy that we are.

This morning, the giddy crazy metamorphosed into stone cold practicality, and I insisted that Chris vacuum before we go pick up Gwen, which he happily did. Gwen, it turns out, had just as marvellous a night as we did, and went to sleep somewhere around 9:30. Judging by our tepid welcome, she didn't miss us one bit, and the grandparents graciously declared the evening a success and would be happy to do it again. Hooray!