Eating: The Middle Frontier

As Owen nears 9 months, he has decided that he wants to assert some independence. He is persistent. This morning, he tried to feed himself his oatmeal/banana/yogurt/cinnamon breakfast. I just sat back and tried not to freak out about the mess. The mess is inevitable and will only get worse. It's just the begininning, so I'm trying to not think about the floors and the laundry, the highchair, his face...

Xwayxway Park!

I visited Xwayxway (Stanley) Park today for the first time! Mummy and daddy took me to the Aboriginal Village, a stroll on the seawall, some swinging in the playground, and then home for a bath.

U.S. of A.

We spent the whole day shopping across the border.

Owen was spectacular, made everyone who crossed his path smile.

We love Owen!

Mama-made kerchief bib

When I was pregnant, I collected fat quarters of material in the hopes of making a quilt for "the baby." Then "the baby" came and I was really busy, and all the material I had collected got packed away. Now that Owen is more independent and I sleep more, I dug out my sewing machine and all the fabric. I am not a great sewer. I've only ever made one shirt and a bunch of random stuff. I prefer to just jump in to a project and learn along the way, so unlike me for other things, but there's something about sewing that I just can't get my mind around from reading about it and looking at pictures. I have to do it and see my mistakes in order to ameliorate it for next time.

This kerchief bib was easy to make and I can't wait to make more for Owen with some of the great fabric (Liberty of London) I have tucked away.

Got Milk?

Owen turned 8 months old last week (!) and has been sleeping much better, big long stretches of hours and hours, so much so that when Adam and I wake up in the morning, we have no idea whether we got up with him in the middle of the night or not, leading us to believe that our dear Odie is sleeping from 7 until 5am. He also has two new teeth, smackdab in the middle of the lower half of his mouth. Despite these teeth, I have yet to feel them when I'm nursing, which brings me to the first and only time I'm going to write about breastfeeding.

I'm still taken aback when strangers straight out ask me if I'm still breastfeeding. I mean, I am, but it still bugs me. I'm not a prude, far from it. But I just don't get why so many women (don't even GET me started on the men who ask) feel that it's okay to ask this question. What would they do or say if I said no?

What has always been important to me is that Owen is fed. Filled to the gills. Stuffed. And by the looks of him, he has always been fed, filled to the gills, and stuffed. And while I am amazed that it's my BODY that has contributed to his growth, I certainly don't feel that I'm better than other mums who can't or won't nurse. I'm an opinionated gal. Pretty much all of my thoughts are black or white, although I am fully aware of the grey. I thought for sure that this way of thinking would be even more pronounced as a mum, but I have surprised myself. I am of the mind that whatever works for YOUR FAMILY is the best way. I don't care what or how you feed your kid. I don't care how the kid gets fed. Is the kid fed? Great. That's all I care about. Which brings me to the reason why I'm writing.

At the beginning of my mumhood, I had no idea that my baby would want to nurse all the time, almost every hour. I felt like a cow in jail. I was basically glued to the couch, remote control in one hand, glass of water in the other, and receiving blankets close at hand. As Owen has grown and grown and grown (close to 23 lbs now, long and leaning out!), he has decided that he wants to eat more solids, nurse less, and do more on his own. His parents are independent thinkers, why shouldn't he be? So over the last month, he has been having a bottle of formula (haters start hating) twice a day and nursed first thing in the morning and in the afternoon. Nursing him has become more and more of a challenge. He's heavy. He's squirmy. He spits milk because he thinks it's funny. He pulls my hair. He pulls off to look around the room or to try to crawl away. None of that really bothers me. Heck, I signed up for this gig. If we miss the afternoon nursing snack, he's not bothered, neither am I. But today at lunch, he took the bottle out of my hands and fed himself. I just kind of let him, and my heart broke.

I've kind of realized that this part of our relationship is coming to an end, although I complained about having to be available for Owen's "on tap" milk habit. I was lucky not to have had any problems nursing. So to see my little guy growing and asserting his independence makes me proud but a little sad. I'll miss our quiet moments together, but these moments will soon be replaced with other special moments, like the first time I really think he has purposely grabbed my hand, or kissed me, or called me Mummy. I can't wait for those moments to come.

Loving Life

I haven't been updating here as much as I have in the past for the simple reason that I am spending my time enjoying my life with my family. Owen is an absolute joy, and my heart bursts to think of him. We spend our days playing, napping, going for walks, visiting friends and family. I will be very sad when my mat leave comes to an end, but am looking forward to a return to the working world in a way. Instead of documenting each and every little moment, I am taking mental pictures instead of rushing to grab the camera. I love my life.

First Father's Day

A nature trek in Capilano River Regional Park, followed by an early dinner at the Tomahawk.