Archive | July 2010

Brokeback mummy

I had another delicious lazy Saturday to myself – it was hard to muster the energy to actually DO something.  I just wanted to sit in peace. Hubby and Precious and Juju  had been out early and when they came back, I was still sitting on the couch.   DH remarked that he thought I would be out by then, but I wasn’t feeling very energetic.  My back had been bothering me for 2 days and it wasn’t a real joy to move about.  Of course, my chiropractor was on vacation.  Sigh.  Back to Thermacare wraps and extra strength back pills. Also, my left heel is cracked again.  (This happened the last time I tried to do a lot of walking.  Just in time for sandal weather, I might add.  It seems the second I put on sandals, even the most comfortable ones, I end up back in socks and running shoes.  Good thing I bought 3 pairs of sandals, eh?  Haha.  Boo. ) So now my feet hurt and my back hurts.  Oh, man, hard not to feel like I’m breaking down.

I managed to visit my mum and take her to Starbucks for our usual outing.  She even let me finish my drink and local paper without the usual demands to leave the second we sit down.  I know, it sounds horrible, reading the paper when I’m with her, but honestly, a fluid conversation is impossible and she likes to comment on people as they walk by.  We manage, in our own way. I talk about sales of grocery items or she points out whoever catches her eye on the street.

I walked down to Gastown later (yes, I managed it) and attended the Illuminaires event with a friend.  It was nice to have a drink on a patio on a beautiful summer evening and admire the lanterns my friends had made.  One girl had made a trio of jellyfish with shiny paper (it looked very cool with lights glowing inside of them) and my friend had made a square paper lantern with the four seasons of a tree.  Beautiful, so creative.  I was especially proud of my friend, who is starting all over again, after her 16 year marriage ended abruptly.  She looked wonderful and happy and eager to try new experiences.  It reminded me of when I first came to this city, and trying out my big girl wheels for the first time.  I prefer being married, but having lived on my own for years, despite loneliness, I loved being on my own.  I hope that she will heal and be happy.

Good news, despite my decrepit body, I managed to lose 2.2 lbs.  Hallelujah – pass the cake!  Kidding.

Rx – a nanny

I went to the doctor’s and told her how lousy I had been feeling.  The moodiness, the fatigue, the foggy thinking, etc.  She gave me a req for a blood test but basically she said I was exhausted.  Not f***ing crazy.  Not  dementia.  Not depressed.  Exhausted.  Not getting enough sleep.  Burn out.  I need to go to bed earlier and I need to take time out for myself.  She suggested that if we could afford it, I should get a nanny.  She asked me if I was tired or irritable when I was working on my gig.  Uh, no.  She said I had been used to living my life a certain way and all that had changed overnight really.  I had all but given up my artistic pursuits and put my kid’s needs first.  Well, yeah, that’s usually how it goes.

When I simplify my daily routines, things tend to go more smoothly, but of course, I’m bored out of my mind.  I eat.  I play Lexulous after he goes to bed and I eat.  Well, we both do.  When I try to do too much, I get overwhelmed.  Things start falling through the cracks, like… my life.  I love being a mom, but apparently I have other interests that need attending to.

I went out with a friend for dinner and drinks.  I stayed out just because I could.  I was too tired to have more than two drinks, but it was nice.  She listened, gave me some Buddhist talk and I felt, well, acknowledged.  Heard.  Lucky me, DH took the Precious for a whole father/son day on the weekend.  It caught me by surprise.  I had to shake my head.  I have free time?  What’s that?  I went shopping and bought shoes, took my mum out, all without having to rush or feel guilty.  The day flew by. Went out again that night on my own to have wine at the beach with my friends.  Hubby stayed home with the kid.  I kept thinking, what is he up to?    But he really was too tired from hanging with his boy all day.

My MIL came to my rescue this week  to visit her grandson.  Normally I try to spend time with her as well and we go for lunch, etc, but not this time.  It was just a day in my life time.  So basically, no lunch.  I don’t usually have time for lunch.  Most of the time I either have a protein shake or have a coffee.  If I’m lucky, he has a nap early and I break out a frozen Healthy Choice entree.

I went to the spa for a facial and a massage.  Still had those gift certificates.  Crazy.  2 hours just for me during the weekday.  It was almost too much time, really.  I kept thinking, this is weird.  The next day, I told DH to take the little guy out when he came home from work so I could go for a bike ride around the seawall.  10 km, it was tough, but I did it in 37 minutes.  They were still out by the time I got back, so I had time for a shower, a quick bite and before I knew it I was off to the culture centre to chant.  Ah, bliss.  I could get used to this, taking time out for my health and sanity.

I also joined Weight Watchers. Dragged my humiliated ass back.  They remembered me.  Sigh.  Of course, I told them I had a son now and they assumed it was baby weight.  Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.  Got all the crap and started adding up the points.  I’m over already.  One slice of frigging banana loaf that I grabbed at Starbucks cause I was starving (no lunch again)  and of course, it’s more calories than I can afford.  then, a BBQ burger with a sliver of cheese and salad.  Thank goodness for the 90 minute walk this morning.  L= know, I know, ease up on myself.  Baby steps.  It’s just that their weigh scale is soooo unforgiving.  Note to self:  drink way more water and green tea.

And right now, I have some True Blood episodes to catch up on (oh, errrr, I just ate 6 points of popcorn – damn!)…….  maybe I should just go to bed at 8pm.

Breast vs. formula debate

On the way home from Toronto last week, I came across this Globe and Mail article on breast vs. bottle.

I’ve groused before about how I get “that look” when I tell people that I bottle feed when asked about breastfeeding. Until it happens to you, you never realize how controversial the whole topic is.

A greater struggle, however, was dealing with the reaction of strangers who would give her unwanted advice on how and why she should breastfeed instead. Nurses at her local health clinic also gave her disapproving looks when she reached for his bottle.”

So it seems that my awkwardness around the whole subject was more about me being an adoptive mum and now I read that it’s biological mothers who get the same reaction.  Never really considered that before.  My close friend stopped breastfeeding at six months because she was having such a tough time producing sufficient breastmilk and used formula so frequently that her little one came to prefer the bottle.  And thrived, of course, with no side effects. As you may know it’s a little hard to enjoy your much awaited little one when the kid is screaming for food or you’re worried about their weight.  She agonized over it reassuring herself that at least she had done 6 months but she certainly look at me to encourage her to continue.  I wasn’t in her position.   And just for the record, let me state that I do believe breastmilk is superior to formula and I think every newborn should get it.  I surely would have chosen breastfeeding had I the benefit of pregnancy and delivery.

My doctor didn’t know anything about adoptive breastfeeding.  I did some research and asked some people online about it.  They were supportive.  Other people have “heard” about it.  And let’s not forget when a complete stranger at my husband’s office offered up some outdated online information about it to me. Hubby was completely against the idea of course.  I’m not sure why he was so against it, it’s not like he needs my boobs to live.  But I bet you if I had actually delivered a child, it would have been  assumed I would breastfeed and he wouldn’t have even blinked.

Now I’ve never hung around families a lot due to my ages long battle with infertility, but it seems to me that every conversation I’ve reluctantly found myself to be a part of ended up in talking about the virtues of breastfeeding.  I was never sure about “lack of support”.  The mothers I knew were bursting with pride and talking about their texture of their milk supply.  There’s the LaLeche group to call for support, lactation consultants and certainly lots of online information, not to forget family physicians.  Had I been a biological mother, I’m sure I would have been informed of the resources.  Perhaps they meant society’s lack of support?  Not everyone feels comfortable about whipping their boob out to feed junior and not everyone wants to be around it.  Personally, I never minded and wondered why some of my friends would leave the room particularly in the company of male friends.  The whole sexualization of the breast vs. the primary biological reason for the breast?

From my experience, there has been sweet f*** all support in an adoptive parent bringing home a newborn .  You know where my support came from?  You guys!  Yep, that’s it.  It can be a little VERY difficult to talk about since you’re not 100% sure it’s really going to happen until it does.  More than one blogger has travelled hundreds of miles with all the baby gear in tow only to come back home empty-handed.  Oh, of course my IRL friends and family were all dishing out this is what you should do, this is what you need kind of thing. On a positive note, community health nurses will come and visit you and I just assumed it was just for biological mothers.  I only had one visit, but it was so informative and very helpful.

Our agency had no waiting family groups and no counselling sessions for waiting adoptive parents which was very unfortunate for me.  Oh, they did have parenting classes.  Ahem, parent what?  And birthmother panels.  Yes, I must agree they were very informative about one side of the triad, and I learned a lot.  Yet I can’t help by shake the feeling that there might have been a few questions regarding breastfeeding. Or how about should I ask the birthmum to breastfeed or where can I get donated breastmilk?   Couldn’t seem to find any in real life groups at all.  Oh, there’s books about what it’s like to parent an adopted child, all the issues about grief and loss and separation anxiety – all the fun stuff. But I found my information regarding breastfeeding for adoptive parents online.

It’s interesting to note that I once saw a doctor on TV talk about breastfeeding as the best option even though it can be problematic for a lot of women.  I really didn’t like the way he dismissed a woman’s physical discomfort as if it shouldn’t be an issue at all.  Well, from what I hear it’s a big deal and “it feels like shards are glass are being pulled through me” is a good enough reason for pain issue to be resolved to the woman’s satisfaction.  Not, well, too bad, breast is best, it’s not about you, it’s about the kid.  YES WE ALL KNOW THAT, but a condescending pat is not a solution.

I had spent a considerable amount of time researching adoptive breastfeeding.  I was encouraged to try it but once I realized the magnitude of commitment I’d have to make vs. what my likely output would be vs. my nerves over if the adoption took place, I realized that I was emotionally NOT  prepared for the task.  And yes, I felt guilty about that choice.  I’m no mouthpiece for the formula companies either.  They just want to sell their product and make money, make no mistake about it.  If you kid drinks 5 oz of formula, they’ll tell you their scoops are only designed to measure out properly in even sized ounces, so you end up throwing out unused formula…. which means you use more than you have to.  You’re not supposed to measure out half servings (which I did anyway).  One brand name organic company uses the same facility as a supermarket company does which made me wonder why the organic formula was so much more expensive.   Start reading on the differences between brand name and no name formulas people.  There’s isn’t much of a difference so they are all regulated to provide the same nutritional content.  Read the labels.  So if you go with a slighter cheaper brand, don’t bother feeling guilty, buy what you can feel good about.   They throw in small “revolutionary”  improvements and then charge you more – cause who doesn’t want to give their infant “the best” money can buy?  There are no discounts on buying the product in bulk either.  They have nutritionists standing by to take your infant nutrition questions but only regarding their product.  Kid crying too much after feeding  try their more expensive “sensitive” formula. Or I walk from store to store trying to find the special bifidus probiotic formula that suddenly becomes scarce.

Since there’s nothing I like better than getting a good deal (it’s like a runner’s high for me) I signed up for the newsletters and baby clubs crap and received coupons and freebies. And that’s not easy in Canada; we don’t get as many free item coupons up here.   Cause that’s what I call excitement these days.  Something free in the mail.  I save up my Shoppers Drug Mart points then buy formula and drag out the coupons.

Anyways, I digress.  In the end, I think I’ve learned that being a mum is an incredible challenge, one that we can make easier if we start supporting each other, rather than competing with each other about what choices we make in our lives.

Losing it – Part II

As promised.  So no, I didn’t find the money, though that would have been nice.  I still had one more stop to visit my mother. Of course, I felt guilty for not calling her when I was away and maybe she thought I had abandoned her.  Lucky me, she didn’t even remember to miss me.  I felt bad, of course, for not getting there earlier and I was checking her out with the nurse, he said to me, “Don’t lay a heavy on yourself”.  Wow, he nailed that perfectly.  That’s what I do.  I was already feeling bad for not spending enough time with her,  because the minute I got there, I was thinking I wasn’t going to bring her over for supper so I only had about 45 minutes before her dinner was served.  I was just too darn tired to deal with her. We went to our usual Starbucks and I wasn’t really there for her if you know what I mean.  I felt divided.  I can’t see her as often as I used to with the kid now and I felt guilty about it.  She’s more disconnected these days and it hurts me to see it.  And sometimes I wish I someone else could take over.  7 years now.  Seven.  At home, hubby makes a wonderful salmon dinner (thank you BBQ) and we talk about the crazy day.

Next morning I get ready for my daily walk, the kid is whingeing in the stroller and the dog would rather sleep.  I decide I will go for a run, gasp, walk and go to get my Ipod.  I find the earphones, no Ipod.  I look in my humongous purse that I used on the trip.  NOPE, NOT THERE.  Should be there, but it’s not.  Okay, never mind, I’ll go anyway and when I come back I’ll really look.  So I head off and make it all the way to the garbage area outside  before I GO BACK AND SEARCH AGAIN.   Now the kid is really whining.  The dog goes and lays down.  I run hither and thither looking for it.  Now I think I’m really losing it.  The last time I saw it was on the plane.  Perhaps I put it in hubby’s carry-on.  Yep, that must be it. We switched seats.  Why did we switch seats?!  HIS FAULT!  The funny thing is that the guy next to us left his earphones in the armrest plug and I was so concerned about that, I didn’t think about anything else.  (I turned in his headphones to the baggage service as he was nowhere to be found at the baggage carousel.) I snap at the kid for his cranky crying even after I gave him some Tylenol.  Oh, yes, I did.  Then I apologized to him.  He was not impressed and I was ashamed that I lost my patience.  Me.  The woman who can handle a screaming infant at midnight.

I head out, leaving DH a message to check the computer bag that he has taken to work, damn him.  It’s a gorgeous, sunny day.  Of course, I forgot my sunglasses.  I really don’t want to go for a walk, I really just want to let the dog do his business and go back and take an ativan because I was really, really upset.  But I walk around the lagoon chanting the whole way because I just need to calm down and get a grip.  I’m miserable because I feel like I should be doing better, feeling better, but feeling unmotivated to actually do anything different.  Hubby calls me as I am walking and tells me he doesn’t have it and that I should call the airline.  I break down and end up blubbering that I can’t do anything, I’m a horrible mother because of his flat head, etc.  He assures me that I’m doing a great job and I’m just fine.  When I got back home, I felt like a complete idiot for breaking down in the first place.

The Precious was fine and had forgiven me my impatience because he was feeling better  and ready to eat his lunch and have his bottle and go down quickly for a nap.  And yes, the airline ACTUALLY HAD MY IPOD.  All was not lost, I could regain what I lost!

So I wasn’t going completely nuts.  I was  just preoccupied with a growing infant.  And I was TIRED.  I took my iron and B12 pill.

And TODAY – I killed a bird. A pigeon, I think.  I don’t really like them, but it wasn’t anything personal.  On my way to the airport to pick up my Ipod.  Its flight across the road was ill-timed, it hit my grill, bounced onto another car grill and tumbled to the side of the road.  I saw it all.  Unavoidable.  All I could do was chant daimoku.  I haven’t killed anything bigger than a fly in I don’t know how many years, but today I killed a bird.


Losing it – Part I

I’ve been feeling perfectly dreadful since I got back, so I’m going to make a dr’s. appt.  I’m sure low blood iron is to blame for my fatigue.  Who knows, yeah, yeah, I know, the depression thought bubble is floating around the back of my head, but I’m fighting it.  In light of reading Women, Food and God, I’ve been trying to stay present when I’m eating.  I eat when I’m tired I’ve noticed.  I always knew this, but I’m trying to get comfortable around the fact that maybe I should just go to bed early.  I hate going to bed early.  Always hated it.  To me it represents a sign of getting old.  I’ve always been a night person and never thought the light at dawn was worth catching.  But of course, having an infant means changing this attitude.  And it seems the Precious is over his jet lag and is back to waking at 5:30am.

Anyhow, DH took an extra day off work to settle in right after our trip.  So he decides we should go for  a long walk to go to this more reasonable organic store.  (My friend gave me one of those fancy baby cooker/steamer/blender things and I wanted to try it out.)  So off we go on our jaunt, making our first stop at a drugstore.  Now, I may have mentioned that we’re doing a cash budget including food, so I had an envelope of money for groceries.  I took out that envelope to buy some stuff at the drugstore.  Then the next stop 25 minutes later was the organic grocery store.  You guessed it.  Can’t find the envelope of cash.  No, don’t worry, I had money left over from Toronto to pay for the organic produce.  I call the drugstore, hoping in vain that I had left it at the cashier stand.  No luck.  I search every cranny of my slingpack.  No luck. Tears spring to my eyes.  I have just lost 50% of our grocery money for the month.

DH was not angry but not doing a particularly good job of making me feel better. He kept saying well, someone probably stole it from me, but I assured him my slingback was fully zipped and if they had, they would have stolen my wallet – which would have been a feat since it is the size of a brick.  Then he said, well, just forget about it, we have more money.   I always hope for the best and if weren’t with me, I would have retraced every step in a hurry in hopes that somehow it had fallen out along the way.  It is my nature to not just forget about things, but try to find a way to UNDO THE PAST.  FIX IT.  CORRECT THE MISTAKE.  FIGURE IT OUT. SO I DON’T LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT. I still felt reasonably lucky that I hadn’t taken more money with me as DH wanted me to do.   I NEVER go out on errands with large amounts of cash on me.  You guessed it, I have a fear of LOSING IT or getting it stolen.  This I learned from my mother.  I take what I think I need and not a penny more.  If I run out of money, I go home or an ATM.

Yes, I’m aware that of all the people on the street that day a gajillion people would have probably kept it.  It was only about $175 and no, we won’t go hungry over it, but as you know, if I lose something, I practically have to hold myself back from hysteria.  Cause it’s just another sign that I’ve got early onset of dementia!!!!  For as long as I can remember, I have always lost a bit when I can’t find something and I mentally and physically retrace my steps.  And if I can’t actually recall the mental image of putting an object somewhere (hence, why you can’t find things), I ascribe that to ill mental health.

Okay, so moving on from that, we decide to pick up some lunch on the way home cause by now, we’re starving.  The kid starts whingeing and crying.  He ate before we left, so I know it’s his teeth and I give him some Tylenol.  As we wait outside for our order, this homeless guy is lurking about and says, “I don’t know nothing ’bout babies, but would it hurt for you to pick him up?”  Well, yes, the thought had occurred to me, as no mother likes to hear their kid cry, but I know I have to put him back in his stroller very shortly and he’s just going to scream even more until the Tylenol kicks in.  I’m already doing my best by rocking the stroller back and forth and giving him face time.  I thank the gentleman for his assvice and he goes away.  DH goes back in to check on our order and guess who comes ambling back to check on me.  This time, he’s not so nice and starts demanding I pick him up and I remark that I know what I’m doing and guess what, he starts CURSING at me.  Yep, I have failed the motherhood test with the homeless guy.

Just as I start to give him a piece of my mind, DH comes out of the restaurant like a bullet, puts down his backpack and heads for the guy.  I know he’s already on edge for being hot, hungry and pissed about the missing money, so I’m thinking that threatening his family was going to push him over the edge.  Yep.  He, ahem, invites the guy to come over here and share his parenting tips so we can write them down.  Not.  He actually called him a “goof” which in prison slang, is a really bad thing to call a guy.  Apparently he recognized him from his guard days.  Needless to say, the man jogged off out of sight with my hubby nipping at his heels.

I point out to DH that I was perfectly capable of telling someone off, I do get particularly heated when it involves my loved ones.  I don’t take to perfect strangers verbally assaulting me, but I noticed that such people often make women their targets, rarely men.  DH challenges stranger trash talking  with physical force.  In all the years I’ve known him, this method of dealing with bullies always works.  Luckily for him, he can handle himself and I think it’s that look in his eye that worries the bully.

By the way, later that day I went back to the drug store to speak to the cashier personally.  No luck and having done my best, I let it go… to whoever needed it more. I had picked up my cheque from my acting gig (see, got more money) and promptly paid a chunk of my VISA bill.

Part II later.


We had a great time in Toronto, survived both the heat and the Precious’ crankiness due to teething.  Mmm, how long is this supposed to last anyway?  It’s been a few weeks and still no teeth breaking through.  I can see the lower ones just under the skin.  We were prepared with homeopathic liquid, tablets and good ole Tylenol for extreme pain.  He was a trouper anyway, poor kid, we had him out for hours on end. We ended up doing to him what we swore we’d wouldn’t do.  Come to think of it, we always do that to ourselves.  I had an opportunity to go out alone to do some shopping because the baby had to nap.  Well, 15 minutes later, I get call from DH that he was up and could they join me.  Well, errr, sure, hon.  I think my heart actually sank.  It’s not that I didn’t want to hang out with them, it was just that my biggest beef with motherhood is getting that all important alone time.  I just need about 90 minutes or so to recharge.  I like to wander about and browse stores taking my time, using stairs, not ramps or looking for elevators to go up a level.  Hubby did all the work, but I was conscious that I was keeping the baby out past his comfort level and I had to hurry to get what I wanted.  Whenever we travel, we end up doing far more than we should and get all cranky and tired.  We just love to pack in one more thing, just one more stop.  Then we flop into bed exhausted and of course, the Precious still gets up early, eager to start the day.

We made it out to my oldest sister’s for dinner.  Funny, how she went crazy with food and really overdid it.  Remember how she never ate anything at my house?  I was terribly hungry with the heat and all, but I ate (refused the pasta) and of course, the caramel cheesecake went down pretty good.  (I have no willpower.) She even packed a little bag with goodies to go.  It reminded me of how mun would often do the same thing. Of course, we talked about the kids, the economy, DH’s work and no visit is complete without the tour of my sister’s house.  It’s not  fancy, but she was so proud of the improvements they had made to it.   Interesting that it was jam packed with pictures of her nuclear family, but none of her sisters or her mother.  Perhaps I should send her some.  Like my mother, she is very proud of being a homeowner.  I, myself, would rather kill myself than own a house in the neighbourhood I grew up in, but she seemed happy with it.  I have to say that I’ve never wanted to live in a far out suburb.  I don’t care to live right in the heart of a city, but in a neighbourhood where you are close to shopping, retail stores and a neighbourhood coffee shop.  I want a place to walk the dog and wave to the neighbours.

DH often held the baby while I visited with friends which gave me a chance to talk without being distracted, and as a result, he discovered that he’s pretty darn good at soothing His Royal Crankiness.  He’s got this knee bouncing thing that puts the little bugger to sleep every time.  It was great seeing my old friends.  They were so generous, bringing gifts for our new addition and every item was absolutely perfect.  I suppose if I still lived in Toronto, I wouldn’t even see them that much, but it made me feel good to know that after all this time, they were still there for me.  Feeling the love.  It meant the world to me.  I wished I could be there for them in their everyday lives.  They all went on to live their lives.  Some are still struggling, some are doing extremely well, everyone is just trying to do the best that they can for their families.

Odd that that they’re children are practically grown or at the very least, in school and we’re just starting out.  I looked at their kids and saw the resemblances in their parents’ faces.  I’ve been told that the Precious looks like me.  I assume that’s just because of the skin tone and maybe the African nose.  Hubby jokes that he looks more like him.  He says that when he’s out with him, he gets these quizzical looks all the time.  And when I’m with him, I get tons of compliments and unsolicited advice.   When we’re all together, I just put my arm in his and let everyone know that we’re all part of the same family.

On vacation!

So far we’re having a great time in Toronto – oh, yes, it’s been sweltering hot, but this morning it is RAINING!  Of course, we have a lot of umbrellas at home and we did not bring ONE! Luckily, the mall is not far so we can solve that problem easily.

The Precious was an intrepid traveller on the plane.  No crying at all.  He didn’t sleep much but he kept himself entertained and charmed all the nearby ladies with his gummy smile.  We checked into our hotel room and man, it was not as big as we’re used to.  Apparently the Shriners are in town and a king room was not available.   They delivered the crib – some iron cage monster and after some rearranging of furniture, we barely fit in the room.  Luckily, DH asked for another room, and lo and behold a king size bed was suddenly available.  Thank goodness!  I didn’t want to complain but honestly, the room they gave us was tiny and I was ready to pay extra to upgrade to a jr. suite.  We ended up throwing our stuff in the crib and moving ourselves.  Getting help was a little bit hard with all the Shriner action.  Grand poobahs as far as the eye could see!

Later, we went to the Keg for dinner.  It was a pretty hip and happening place but family friendly because they offered highchairs.  Years ago, I used to go there on the weekends and get gooned with my friends of Keg sized cocktails.  Wow, times have changed.  You see lots of strollers and high chairs in steakhouses now. We received great service, all the celery stalks The Precious could chew or fling on the floor, and lots of pretty hostesses stopping by to admire his cuteness.

His napping habits have been sporadic but  he settled down to bed quite nicely after a bath, bottle and bouncing on the knee.  DH and I even had time to sneak a little schmoo time (quietly).  Just when I thought the teething had abated somewhat, he woke up around midnight on his first night SCREAMING as if he was on fire.  I’m pretty sure he woke up the entire floor.  Luckily, we got some Tylenol down his throat  and a cold towel in his mouth and we settled him down pretty quickly.  Poor baby!  I had brought homeopathic  Camilia and teething tablets but the pain was too acute for those to work.  Now, you’d think the Tylenol would knock him out for a while, but noooooo, he was up early.  Sad to admit those 12 hour sleeps are a thing of a the past.   DH – bless him – got up and fed him and rocked him back to sleep – so I could sleep in a bit.

In this heat, we haven’t ventured very far but my friends are coming to us, bless them.  I’ve seen two of my old friends so far.  One, a man who gave me away at my wedding; he’s a playwright, actor, director, dramaturge and another male friend, another actor who has been sidelined with HIV for years, but recently went back to acting. These guys are really a part of my “chosen” family and they have always been there for me.  Today, I will get to see my dear friend of almost 30 (gasp!) years and her preteen daughter.

Gotta remember to use the video camera and take more pics…..