Even though Hadley was born in the U.S. and will probably spend her entire life here, I try to make her aware of her Canadian roots. We celebrate both Canadian and American Thanksgivings. We sing the Canadian anthem. She waves the Calgary Flames flag that my parents bought Jamie (a.k.a. Mr. Avalanche) in jest. That same flag he once threatened to burn.

This morning, Haddie was going through her toy box and found a bear bell with a Canadian flag on it. She started ringing it.

Jamie: Haddie, that’s Mommy’s Canadian bell! Can you wish her a Happy Canada Day?
Haddie: NO!!
Jamie [to me]: I guess our little Half Breed is more 60:40 American….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

This is just one of many ways how NOT to empathize with your sickly pregnant wife (did I mention just how sick I am?)–

When asked to pull the laundry out of the back of the dryer (you know, that same laundry she just washed for you), just do it.

DO NOT: stuff a giant, purple beach ball under your stomach, comically waddle over to the dryer and bend over to remove the laundry in a vain attempt to prove that said wife is faking her inability to reach the back of the dryer.

The grave consequence may just be that it is YOU who will forever be on laundry duty. That is, if your wife ever lets you out of the dryer after stuffing you and your Beluga beach ball in it. Just to prove her point, of course.

On a related subject–

TO DOCTORS EVERYWHERE: This is how NOT to empathize with your sickly pregnant patient. Do not take one look at her and proclaim, “Man, SUCKS to be you!” (though having a medical professional ascertain that life does indeed suck somehow adds validity to my current condition. In a pathetic sort of way.) Kind of like when the employee at the Children’s Museum commented this week that The Hurricane was the messiest painter she’d ever seen. ‘Twas a conflicted and warped sense of pride….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I’ve been frequently talking to Hadley about how Junior’s presence is going to change our lives. And for the most part, she has been very receptive, even excited. But nothing we have discussed surpassed how thrilled she was with our conversation the other day about breastfeeding.

“…And so, Haddie, Junior is going to be drinking milk from Mommy.”

She looked suspiciously at my mammaries. “Drink milk dare?” she asked in disbelief as she pointed.

“Yes, Mommy will make milk,” I encouragingly responded.

After pondering this for a few moments, suddenly doubt turned to appreciation. Imagine that: Mommy has magic mammaries!

“Mommy make bagels, too?”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

It’s not enough that I have swollen to record levels. It’s not enough that I’m only getting a few hours of sleep at night. And it’s not enough that I have started having contractions. Contractions that don’t even count. Fake contractions that just serve as a reminder of the pain and suffering I have in my near future.

Nope, now I have to get sick on top of all this? And even worse, The Hurricane has to get sick as well? You know. That same kid who is a crummy sleeper in health. I won’t even get into her sleep patterns in sickness. I’m trying to look on the bright side of things that we’re getting this out of our system so we’ll all be healthy and happy for Junior’s arrival. Errr, right?

Now, onto other rants. I’ve complained in the past about the redundancy of the weekly newsletters I receive re: how my pregnancy is progressing. Week 37 presented the mind-blowing information that I have become increasingly clumsy and off-balance. Gee, that takes a genius to figure out when you’re wearing a bowling ball on your stomach. Good thing my butt has grown exponentially to balance things out.

I’m not exactly someone you’d call graceful when not pregnant but my condition has only augmented my klutz capacity. The other day, I took my shoes off in the middle of the floor and my beloved Jamie tripped over them. I chortled and laughed as I often do at the expense of another…until I did the same thing over one of Hadley’s toys only a few minutes later. But unlike Jamie, I did not make a quick recovery and instead did a side-Beluga roll to avoid landing on Junior. Saved!

A couple of years ago, I was not so lucky. Y’see, I was eight-months pregnant with Hadley and we’d just finished building our home. We’d had Jamie’s brother, Chris, over for dinner and decided to go out for ice cream afterwards. Things started smoothly. I waddled out the door in a semi-straight line when, outta nowhere, I lost my balance. I stepped off the sidewalk and onto our mucky, grass-less lawn. My foot immediately sank and stuck. And then in a move only executed in a game of Twister, my other foot landed at an awkward 540-degree angle. Keeping this pose is an impossibility as an able-bodied person but as a pregnant Beluga? Just say no to those visuals.

And then everything got really, really slow. There were flailing arms, there was an exasperated “Noooooo,” and then splat: I went face-first into the mud. I wasn’t hurt but rather, absolutely mortified. Jamie and Chris stood there stunned, unsure of what action to take. I reacted for them by breaking out into fits of hysterical and embarrassed laughter, which only augmented when I saw my tracks: knee and hand marks, and a big, round place for my belly.

We kept it there until we sodded. In remembrance. Haddie’s reminder is that big ol’ dent in the side of her head. 🙂

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Jamie and I had a great weekend! We figured The End (a.k.a. Junior) is drawing near so we’d better get out and enjoy some alone-time now. Friday night, we hit a church BBQ and Saturday night, we saw the Da Vinci code. We read the book a couple of years ago and have been eager to see the big-screen version. I had only one reservation: sitting through a 2 1/2 hour movie without any potty breaks.

Miraculously, I did just fine. Until the last 15 minutes. The most climactic of the movie. It was reminiscent of when we saw Lord of the Rings: Return of the King a few years ago. Jamie had downed a 32-ounce drink and by the end of it, was ready to explode. After about the fifth ending as they were weepily saying their farewells prior to sailing away, a desperate Jamie seethed “JUST GET ON THE DAMN BOAT!!!!” He was touched in his own way, I’m sure.

My experience wasn’t too different. Just add a baby bouncing on your bladder. And a few “shock” sequences where they jump out at you, thereby testing any bladder control you may (or MAY NOT) have. By the end of the movie, I leaned over to Jamie and simply muttered “JUST GET ON THE DAMN BOAT!” He busted out laughing and quickly ushered me to the potty. Point taken.

Over dinner, we discussed plot twists and changes in the big-screen version. I had forgotten many of the key points in the book, such as who The Teacher was, an integral element that added to the suspense. Jamie, on the other hand, remembered.

“Knowing everything totally took away from the movie,” he complained.
“That’s too bad. You need to just have a crummy memory like me.”
“Naw, I’m just never going to open a book again.”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Hurricane Hadley has been downgraded to a Tropical Storm. Previously fearless, she has become obsessively afraid of noise. Specifically loud noise. Like the lawn mower. We’ll be at the playground and if one comes within two miles, we have to pack up and go home.

Another unfounded fear has been on her favorite new program, Dora the Explorer. No, she’s not afraid of the scary troll, Swiper the Fox or even Dora’s freaky sidekick monkey, Boots. But it’s the map. Yes, the Hurricane is afraid of an inanimate object. For those not familiar with the show, The Map plays an integral role for Dora aka Explorer Extraordinaire. And this isn’t just any map, but a magical, interactive map that shows Dora where she needs to go on all her adventures.

I would be stumped over her angst but in the deep recesses of my mind, I understand. Y’see, I, too am afraid of maps. No, I don’t run and scream at the sight of them but my reaction is more along the lines of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Especially when Hunky Hubby is ripping on me for my inability to read them. But if I had a magical one? Bring it on! The Hurricane doesn’t know how good she has it.

Besides her fear of The Map, Haddie adores everything about Dora. Y’see, the kid loved Teletubbies. You know, those annoying, baby-talking good-for-nothing creatures. We had a funeral for them last week when I told her they went bye-bye forever, just like binky. My mother-in-law almost blew it the other day when she attempted to resurrect them without knowledge of their demise. But I am pleased to say they still rest in peace.

Another part of Dora’s explorations involve solving riddles along the way. The first time we watched it, I thought “Oh, how cute!” as I easily solved the first riddle, “What swings in trees, eats bananas and goes hoo hoo hoo.” “MONKEY!” I triumphantly shouted as an alarmed Jamie and Haddie looked on. But then it got ugly.

Y’see, Jamie and I are just a little bit competitive. OK, a lot competitive. And those riddles get tougher and tougher, believe you me. But then came the granddaddy of riddles: who can jump higher than the tall mountain? Dora jumped. Not even close to surmounting it. Then, Boots. Next came all their friends. Nothing. We were stumped.

But then that brilliant, deducing Dora: “How high can the tall mountain jump?” Errr…it can’t, which therefore means they could all jump higher than the tall mountain. It was then that the truth was revealed: a toddler’s show had kicked our butts.

Maybe it’s time to go back to Teletubbies….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Yes, it’s true. Lest you had doubted my pregnant state it was confirmed to me last weekend. The weekend I have been anticipating for months. The Friday I was to spend 24 blissful hours completely by myself. Well, more like 18 hours but hey, solitude is solitude. And not like I was counting anyway, right? OK, truth be told it would’ve actually been only 17.5 hours.

The camping trip was my mother-in-law’s idea during Easter dinner. That same woman who hates camping and hasn’t done it in 20 years. But she was looking for a family bonding activity and figured this would be a great one.

As many of you know, I am an outdoor aficionado but camping at 36 weeks pregnant is not my idea of fun. Aside from the uncomfortable sleeping conditions (which I could overlook), my bigger issue was my potty breaks. These days, I do my sleep-walking-pee trek to the bathroom every 1.5 hours. This is not an exaggeration. It’s no wonder I’m always exhausted. And doing that to the outhouse in the middle of the night is a living nightmare.

But I was fully supportive of everyone else going. In fact, I became pretty dang obsessed with it. A whole night to myself? I haven’t had that in years. And so I plotted my little retreat: I’d rent some of the best chick flicks out there and would finally archive my stacks of Haddie pics into a photo album, something I’ve been dying to do prior to Junior’s arrival.

Welp, there’ve been some hiccups this week as my MIL has threatened to cancel over some relatively minor issues that have arisen. But then came The Granddaddy today. After weeks of record-breaking 90- and 100-degree temps, it rained. Rained. ON MY RETREAT DAY. After many prayers, the conditions cleared but not before my MIL called the whole thing off. She claimed she called up to the campground and rain was in the forecast.

“That’s ridiculous!” I desperately exclaimed. “It’s totally cleared and it’ll be beautiful tomorrow.” But she already had the support of the other fair-weather family members. Those same people I used to like. “You guys can come over for a BBQ tonight,” she offered. I must have responded as pissy as I felt when I said thanks but no thanks. I knew I was being irrational but my disappointment was palpable. Any thoughts of a break before having the baby were over.

But then to have Jamie call up a couple of hours later to inform me he and Haddie were sleeping over at his parent’s house. That’s ridiculous!” I exclaimed for the second time that day. “It defeats the point of my entire retreat if I’m overcome by guilt on the matter.”

And so they went over for a BBQ but only Jamie returned home later. Against my wishes, he claimed he “accidentally” forgot Hadley over there. Hmph. Yes, I was being irrational. But they didn’t have to be so nice about it. After all, IF I AM TO FEEL SORRY FOR MYSELF, IT’LL BE ON MY OWN SELFISH TERMS. Don’t throw the guilt factor into it.

In the end, it turned out just fine. I finished my album, slept in until a whopping 7 a.m. and we worked on Junior’s room for much of the day. Oh, and Jamie let me go on a Super Target shopping spree. Anything to appease the pregnant lady’s meltdowns. Hormones? What hormones?

P.S. All sympathy mail can be sent to Hunkyhubby@survivingthehormones.com

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Now, I can’t be sure but does carrying around her Princess Mirror so she can can constantly check herself out in her new church dress count as just a little bit vain?….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

We were laying in bed a few weeks ago discussing Haddie’s activities that day when I bragged to Jamie how prolific she’s becoming with the human language.

Me: “You know, when we were singing the alphabet today, she strung together a few letters L-M-N-O and delightedly sounded out ‘ELMO!'”

Jamie: “Wow, that’s really impressive! At this rate, she’ll be on Oprah by the time she’s 3! Hey Hadley, what letter does ‘Supercalifradjulistic’ start with?”

Hadley [proudly]: “M!”

Jamie: “Well, maybe at least the Maury Pauvich Show….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

One of the things I truly love about Colorado is the countless open space areas that have been converted into beautiful parkways. When not in the mountains, much of our spare time is spent exploring these little cuts of nature right in our own backyard. Not to be dismayed by our 99-degree temps, Haddie and I have been going for early-morning walks along these parkways before the temps heat up.

Yesterday, we went for a trek along one of our favorites. Not only is much of it shaded but there’s a great playground and duck pond along the way. Really, the only drawback is the pond hosts the most stuck-up ducks I’ve ever seen. What? My stale bread isn’t nearly as good as that pond scum you consume every day?

So we’re sitting there watching the snobby ducks when I saw a runner in the distance. As the runner came closer, it was like one of those slow-motion Baywatch sequences. The one where the ocean breeze (fans from the set) are blowing while the runner’s breasts are bouncing away. You know, every man’s secret fantasy.

Unless, that is, the person with the bouncing breasts is a man. Yep, this runner was shirtless and had veritable breasts. And not the Mr. Olympia kind, either. I turned my head away in disdain but Hadley remained undaunted. I would even say she was mesmerized.

At the exact moment he passed us, little Hadley chose to give her commentary of the situation with a piercing screech, “NAAAAAAAAAAKED!”

It stopped Mr. Baywatch in his tracks. He threw her a disgusted “I would charge you with sexual harassment if you weren’t a pipsqueak” kind of look and continued on his way.

He was lucky. If he thought “Naked” was offensive, wait ‘til I teach her how to scream “INDECENT EXPOSURE!” next time around…

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog