Wow. Look how far we’ve come in half a century.

Funny how Cosmo now encourages us to seduce our husbands and yell like a hyena, when a “small moan” used to be “quite sufficient.”

Do many of you get Today’s Parent? It’s a Canadian parenting magazine put out by Rogers, and I quite enjoy it. The past few months they’ve had a few fabulous articles on greening your house for baby and just in general:

How green is your home?: A room-by-room tour (kids’ rooms, bathrooms, kitchen etc.) to learn about the “environmental baddies” you may be harbouring, and how to fix ‘em. I really liked how they focus not just on the standard, big-ticket, expensive stuff such as new furnaces and windows, but on mattresses, bedding, paints, shower curtains and cookware. Literally the best resource I’ve read that compiles everything together. A must read.

The green nursery: Thoughts and tips on carpeting, paint, furniture and bedding in a vulnerable newborn’s bedroom. Did you know the glue that holds together many new cribs (particularly cheaper ones like *ahem* we bought from Sprawl-Mart) can off-gas formaldehyde for years?). Another excellent read.

Guide to less toxic products: From the Environmental Health Association of Nova Scotia, via the above story. Endorsed by the Big Man himself, David Suzuki. The article includes this warning: “You  may find out more than you really wanted to know about the chemical soup that is modern life.” Yeah…proceed with caution.

Easy recipes for non-toxc house cleaning: Love them.

Know the story/song No More Monkeys Jumping on the Bed?

No? Here, Lucy can teach you:

You don’t know what you’re missing.

(Notes: This will be Lucy’s bedroom, and is currently called The Ball House Room, AKA The Room We Use to Bribe Lucy Upstairs With, AKA The Spare Room Where Guests Sleep Among the Balls. Don’t you love the Pepto pink walls? The wavy foliage wallpaper? The cable cords? That’s Sparky, the LED, colour-shifting dog, and Lucy’s sleeper she spontaneously ripped off. Oh, and yes, we’re still reading about Christmas, but at least it’s only eight months away now. The bathrobe, it lives on. Also, Eric hates those ultra-comfy-stretchy pants with the army of snowmen; he thinks they are planning an attack.)

Women are like tea bags. They don’t know how strong they are until they get into hot water.

– Eleanor Roosevelt

The kid totally deserved it.

But you gotta love the woman’s sense of humour.

• We have entered the No Stage. Lucy, do you want breakfast? No-no. Lucy, do you want to have your bath? No-no. Lucy, can we change your diaper? No-no. Get you dressed? Take Spencer for a walk? Go to daycare? Put your socks on? Give Mum-Mum kisses? No-no-no-no-no-no. Eat M&Ms? Mmmm-hmm.
• I’ve had gray hair since I was 15, and now it’s…well, it’s bad. My father’s completely gray patch across his brow appeared in his twenties, and let’s just say I inherited it. Except all over. So I have to colour my hair often or it looks pooey — which is very time consuming, messy and costly. So yesterday I tried Nice and Easy’s Root Touch-Up, and LOVED it. Love, love, love. It’s just enough to do the most visible roots at the front, sides and top, and matched perfectly. Highly recommended.
• As cute as they were, I just could not bring myself to buy those polka dot hipster panties at Dollarama today. Deal or no deal, a lady has to draw the somewhere, no matter how cheap she is.
• Last night I got all my stickers (and note cards) organized, which felt so good. Then I spied Melissa’s plastic sleeves, and had to have some (thus the dollar store this morning — slow work week. HI BOSS!). Now, I will be even more organized.
• Speaking of which, didn’t those who came have a fabulous time at Durham Mom’s Night Out’s first scrapbooking night? The time zipped by while everyone dabbled on their projects, made fun of my stickers and bitched told glowing stories of our spouses and babies.
• I rarely use LOL, but this made me laugh out loud REALLY LOUD: Perhaps next year’s Easter card?

Hello, stick!

Do you see what the guilt does?

New glasses!

Here are two stunning articles about the crazy increase in terrifying childhood allergies. Two of the best I’ve ever read:

Newsweek: Fear and allergies in the lunchroom

National Geographic: Misery for all seasons: allergies: a modern epidemic

Does your child suffer from any of these dire allergies? What’s the latest with schools? Do they segregate the highly-allergic kids? Just completely ban peanut (or all nut?) products? Is that the right way to go?

Eric has eczema, so our doctor wants us to wait until Lucy is three before giving her any peanut-related products. We do all other types of nuts, though. I’m very on the fence about this issue, whether it’s right to wait, or better to expose them while they’re young in hopes of preventing allergies. So far, we’ve trusted the advice of our doctor, as she is young and very in tune with the latest research.

• Lucy cried leaving me this morning. Eric had to literally rip her out of my arms. Shit that hurt. I looked down and there was my heart, flailing on the driveway and moaning like a hurt whale. Thankfully Eric calmed her down and she was blowing me kisses as they backed out.
• We looked at some houses yesterday, more so our agent could get an idea what we’re looking for. Note to dwelling sellers: Screaming aqua-blue walls with polar bear borders will not make us jump to write a $330,000 cheque. A stunning view across all of town, however, almost had us start packing.
• Some fabulouso links: How to make a month’s worth of dinners for the freezer, an eco-friendly alternative to sandwich bags, the over-parenting crisis and a hilarious parody titled Majority of Parents Abuse Children, Children report (thanks SuperMom Jen)
• Angie this weekend sent the rest of baby Alexander’s story, which will go up tomorrow. I dare you not to get teary and heart-swelly for my friend
• Remember eons ago when we laughed over the horrendus panda shirt and someone (Kathi?) joked I should hold a contest for the ugliest baby clothes? Guess who took the suggestion literally and has spent the past wee while lining up judges, prize donations and making posters? (*ahem*) Tune in Wednesday.

Tuesday was my one year anniversary of writing this site.

(Yes, Tuesday, like four days ago. Shut up, I wasn’t paying attention. And I was trying to make the baby poop. What did YOU accomplish this week, hhhmmmm?!)

A year and 276 posts later, I’ve gone from a naive pregnant woman to a fumbling, yet increasingly confident mom to the most charming, adorable, frustrating, awe-inducing baby ever.

I remember being so worried about labour and delivery, about tearing and pushing and the possibility of a C-section. Looking back, I shake my head and roll my eyes because I never fully understood the hardest part about having a baby is the forever and ever after she’s born.

I used to relish the apple fritters and Rockets and cereal and rub my fat belly and imagine being at home with Lucy and not having to work (haha!) and that’s as far as I could think. I knew life would change — everyone kept telling me that again and again and again like that annoying 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall song — but I didn’t really get it until lately.

Now, we go on walks during recess at the local public school or go out for dinner at “family” restaurants (*shudder*) or go grocery shopping and see kids running and screaming and laughing and it hits me: that will be Lucy one day. She’s going to grow up and walk and play sports and go to school and read and learn and fall in love and have her heart broken and succeed and fail and holyshit I need to prepare her for that.

That is a whole lifetime of taking care of someone. It’s a whole life to make ready for this world.

And never before have parents had such a community to draw support from than this, the Internet. It’s a blessing and a curse, depending on what you’re looking for: parents blogging, searching the deadly disease your child MUST have, discussion forums to find other moms awake at 3 am.

So here I am, this miniscule little blip on the gianormous Interweb, with Lucy and Eric and Spencer Dog.

Hi. Shall we?