Jen’s given birth to a healthy baby girl!

Avery Quinn was born at 10:40 a.m., weighing 8 lbs., 15 oz.

The girls are doing great, big sister Eirinn is tickled, and Jen’s hubby sounds tired but happy.

That was just seven hours of labour — and Jen did it again without an epidural.

Wow. Congrats to the O’ Donnell’s!

For those of you following along, Jen’s in labour!

Her water broke at 3:40 a.m. today, according to an email she sent me at 5:30. And from her husband at just before 8, she was at the hospital with healthy (3 minutes apart) contractions.

Hopefully I’ll have more news and photos later on today…

I was watching the news tonight (with Lucy, who was quietly reading books on the floor and could not see the television THANKGOD) when this story came on and made me literally sit up and shriek.

Apparently this “ritual” makes children grow up big and strong. I wonder how many are afraid of heights and don’t trust their parents?

This weekend I’m hosting Jen O.’s baby shower. Her wee girl is due in early July, but based on the baby’s, um, increasing need to kick the ever-loving snot out of my Biffy and how much amniotic fluid she allegedly needs to perform her acrobatics AND that Eirinn came four weeks ahead of schedule, we’re pretty sure Baby 2 is going to appear early.

At least, Jen is praying she does.

While I have some fun and cheesy shower games planned, I thought it might be fun to share some of the words of wisdom all of us have been told or learned since becoming mothers.

So if you’ll please, leave a comment answering any or all of these:

•  what is the BEST piece of parenting advice anyone ever gave you?
• what is the WORST piece of parenting advice anyone ever gave you?
• what’s the most important thing you’ve learned about being a parent since becoming one?

Being the short-term thinker I am, I have yet to fully comprehend that in less than six months there are going to be two children living in my house.

I’m firmly, obliviously entrenched in pregnancy survival mode. It’s sort of nice living in this state of denial.

But the odd time I do let my mind wander into the near future, these are the random things I worry about:

• learning to breastfeed again. My nipples cringe when I even look at nursing bras, remembering how utterly painful the first few weeks were
• sleep. Or better yet, lack thereof. We have been so blessed with Lucy and so comfortable in our freedom from 7:30 p.m. - 7 a.m. that I know this baby is going to kick our asses when s/he arrives. This turns into near panic when I read posts like Mary Lynn’s — then hear it again from Eric (he works with ML’s husband) in the form of Ed’s red, blurry eyes
• two children = four appendages each. Last I checked, despite wishes every night, I only have two hands *sigh*
• baby crap gear clogging up the house. It’s so nice now having Lucy’s toys tucked away beside the sofa out of sight. I think back to the early baby months of swing, bouncy chair, receiving blankets, small trippable toe-stubbing toys and say bye-bye living room
• oh, the screaming and crying around dinner time. Do you remember those?
• Spencer becoming a hermit when he realizes, “ohdeargod there’s another one.”
• Lucy’s reaction in general

But then this afternoon, at the grocery store? There was this frazzled-looking mom, hair in a sloppy pony tail, crusted spit-up down her back wearing mismatched socks, leaning into an infant seat and nibbling on the bare toes of her three-month-old to his gummy-mouthed delight, and I realized all the above doesn’t matter for moments like that one.

Inspired by Mary of It’s Not All Mary Poppins, yesterday afternoon Lucy and I made some cute handprint tulips to help welcome spring.

Lucy, being her miserable sick self, wasn’t all that interested in the craft, but she did submit to me tracing her hands three times.

This is an exciting time with our gardens, as it’s the first spring in our new house. So every day is a new discovery: A bunch of tulips here (right where I planted a Black Eyed Susan, whoops!), a smattering of crocuses there. Each night we come home from Julia’s, Lucy bounds out of the car to our front beds to exclaim over the days’ growth. She constantly talks about helping me in the garden (last year she loved clomping through the dirt and poking plants with sticks) and how she’s going to wear her rubber boots.

I noticed on my walk with Spencer last night (Eric came home and I literally gave him a kiss and walked out the door for a much-needed break from our  adorable-but-cranky-and-patience-stomping daughter. I haven’t had to do that in more than a year, but seriously, yesterday was HARD), I noticed that all the snow is officially gone from our neighbourhood in the Boonies.

Maybe, just maybe, we’ll put away the snow boots and winter mats this weekend, and take the snow tires off the Altima. Then and only then will it officially be spring.

If there is one thing I could honestly do without in parenthood, it’s the routine tasks required to raise a child.

There’s nothing that tries my patience more than trying to get Lucy out of the house in the morning. I get her dressed, feed her breakfast (one of my favourite parts of the day, when she’s sweet and cute and excited for a new day), but then The Battle begins: Getting teeth brushed, face/hands washed, and coats etc. on to get out the door.

I don’t know if it’s because the deadline of the morning is suddenly on us or what, but these last 10-ish minutes are not fun. It’s a challenge in general to get Lucy to brush her teeth — not that she doesn’t enjoy it, she just procrastinates a lot, and licks the toothpaste off rather than brushing — and it’s exacerbated by Eric standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting. I have to sing songs, bribe (”Mummy won’t sing songs if you don’t brush your teeth!”) and nag, nag, nag. The washing is less difficult as long as she doesn’t decide to throw every facecloth in the house in the skin.

By the time she’s back downstairs, dressed and in Eric’s arms, I am literally throwing the two of them out the door. About 10 minutes later, after I’ve calmed down and face the reality of an empty house for 8+ hours, I feel guilty. Every. single. day.

Repeating it again at bedtime isn’t quite as stressful as there is no place to go, but often just as hard to get her to do stuff — especially when only I am allowed to do the brushing/washing/book reading (if I’m out of the room or house, Eric is permitted to do these tasks. But try it when I’m around? He might as well be stabbing her with hot knives the way she reacts — particularly the flailing and “NO DADDY!” at the top of her lungs). In some ways I’m flattered, of course. In others, it’s demanding and frustrating. I try to keep it in check knowing how fast time flies and that soon she’ll want nothing to do with me, but that doesn’t always help.

How do you do with routine? Is it even harder when BOTH parents are getting out the door?

(Geez, combine this with not liking to play, and you’d think I just dislike motherhood — so not the case. Just certain aspects are less fun than others.)

The best part about going away is coming home.

I ended up catching an early train/bus, and my Dad and Lucy met me at the station. Lucy kept grinning at me from the back seat, saying, “Hi, Mommy! Hi! Hiiieeeeee!” When we got out of the car, she literally flung herself at me, knocking me over backwards on the driveway. Where Spencer decided to pounce on the both of us, placing a combined 50+ pounds on my boobs. Niiiice.

I think I had one of the best sleeps of my life last night, snuggled down with Eric in my own bed. Bliss.

I’ve the most ridiculous stories to share (GO bus shenanigans, exploding whipped cream, cell phone-licking dude in the Armani suit), but I’m in desperate need of an afternoon snooze while Lucy is down.

Be back soon. Have a nice weekend!

p.s. During the voting for the Bribery contest? There were 3,144 visits to DRB. April 2 alone had 1,547 — the largest one-day number of visitors to the site.

I slept awful last night. As exciting as it is to be away from home in a swanky hotel room (there were chocolates on my pillow, people! And a bottle of red wine with brie and crackers on the desk!), I don’t do well not in my own bed. Especially after sleeping in the same bed with Eric for so long.

So I’ve pretty much been awake since 5:30, which means when the day ends at 6 p.m., I will be, how do you say, a zombie.

My departure was almost catastrophic. Eric and Lucy dropped me off at the bus, and poor Lucy was determined to come on the “round and round” (the song, remember?) with me. “Lucy bus, too? Peeeeese, Mommy!” Tears and all. Geezus, child, you aren’t making this easy for Mum-Mum.

We parked behind some cars so Lucy couldn’t actually see the bus, and after a quick kiss, Eric sped off before she realized what happened. I called after the bus pulled away, and thankfully she was fine.

Today she’s at Julia’s, then will spend tomorrow with my parents. It’s so comforting to have a great support network so I do not have to worry about her while I’m gone.

Today I have to make business contacts (AKA: schmooze, a word I detest. Reminds me of a used car salesman…), and attend sessions on retirement and pensions.

Control your excitement!

Off to snarf as many muffins as possible. Have a great day.

Are you shutting off the lights tomorrow?

It’s Earth Hour between 8-9 p.m. Residents and corporations around the world are turning off their power to make a statement about climate change.

Almost every municipality and many businesses in Durham are participating. I’m dying to see whether the Region shuts off the eye glaring, power-sucking lights of their monstrous parking garage and headquarters at Rossland Rd. and Garden St. in Whitby. Everytime I drive by at night, that corner is absolutely shining. I bet the residents who live behind the lot will love it.

We will of course be participating. Already got the candles and bbq lighter ready to go. I’ve told Eric that watching COPS in the dark does not count. Which sucks ’cause this weekend’s new episode has spike strips and foot pursuits and helicopters.

*sigh*