Sweet Madeleine

Who is this child, big enough to wear hoodies and lurch towards...

Wed, 22 May 2013 12:59:08 -0700

Who is this child, big enough to wear hoodies and lurch towards the camera?

I swear, happiest baby I know.

Pig + Monkey = Tru Luv 4 Eva (70% of the time, anyway)

Tue, 21 May 2013 12:39:00 -0700

My favourite gossip blogger, hands-down, is Lainey, and only partly because she sprinkles bits and pieces of Chinese superstition, tradition and instruction in amongst juicy celeb gossip.

Today she had a post on Tiger Woods that talked about Chinese astrology compatibility, and because I am a total sucker for astrology and horoscopes and those machines at the mall that read your palm and tell you what an awesome lover you are, I did some extensive google research on the subject (meaning, of course, that I clicked the first link that came up) and was utterly delighted at what I found.

Would it surprise anyone to learn that in Chinese astrology, I was born under the sign of the Pig?

Notable characteristics include:

Sincere, Honest, Trusting, Sociable, Hard Working, Stubborn…Pigs are very pleasant and have flawless manners and taste. Because they are also perfectionists, they are often wrongly viewed as snobs or as having feelings of superiority. Pigs are sensuous and luxuriant by nature. They love the finer things in life…Pigs are sometimes wrongly perceived as being lazy. Their love of family and warm hearts make them wonderful mates.

Do you hear that? I’m not lazy! The Chinese zodiac said so! Nevermind what time I got out of bed this morning, I AM A WONDERFUL MATE.

Similarly, no one will be shocked to know that Adam is a monkey.

Serious.

A MONKEY. If there ever was anything more appropriate, well…

Characteristics of my dear monkey?

Resourceful, Charming, Persuasive, Amusing, Sociable, Cunning…Having a good time comes very easily for them in any crowd. They are optimistic, witty and blessed with a razor sharp mind. While Monkeys love to be the center of attention, they are good listeners as well…Monkeys are show-offs who love nothing more than to bedazzle those around them with their antics.
Most Monkeys do not have a highly developed sense of morality. Indeed, if its fun, they’ll do it. Their primary goal is the pursuit of their own pleasure…

The last line of the Monkey profile reads, no joke, “If they can not find a party, they will start their own.”

Yes. Yes, they will. In my house, with beer and lasagna and friends and loud music that goes doof doof doof doof and through it all, a charming smile and earnest promise to clean everything up in the morning (LIES! THEY HAVE NO MORALITY, THESE DAMN MONKEYS!)

Also according to the Chinese zodiac, we are 70% compatible which is far more than I would have anticipated given that our relationship is basically me lounging around being stubborn, and Adam stealing tourists cameras and flinging feces at me when he thinks I’m not looking.

What is your time zone?

Tue, 21 May 2013 11:43:00 -0700

Alright, friends. Let’s talk about question time here at Sweet Madeleine.

I, like most people, love answering questions because it’s kind of awesome thinking that people care enough to not only show up here and read this word salad on the daily, but also want to know more, and ask me things as though I know about stuff . It’s immensely fantastic and guys, level with me, it means we’re BFF’s, doesn’t it?

I will always answer questions about me, happily share my meager knowledge on parenting or crazy-hippie enviro-nonsense, expound upon my thoughts on marriage or world politics, or even whether or not Gus’ farts smell worse when they’re loud or silent (silent. oh god. SILENT.)

BUT, although I get crazy-excited whenever I see that someone has asked a question, lately there have been a few that I haven’t been answering and I thought I would explain why, just in case one of them was yours and you’re starting to think I’m being a dick.

I haven’t been answering what I think of as “small-talk” questions- things like “What’s your favorite fruit?” or “Which season do you like the best?” because I don’t think that anyone really cares.

Please believe me when I say that I am not interesting enough, or a good enough writer to make my answers entertaining for you.

I mean if I’m wrong, if you do actually want to know, if there is some burning desire deep within you that will only be satiated by knowing whether or not I prefer apples or oranges (apples. but only if they’re cold and crisp), please let me know and I will definitely answer (it’s not like I have anything else going on) but every time I get one of these I’m like “Really?” It feels somehow egotistical to think that people actually want to know my seasonal preferences.

I’m not Beyoncé. No1curr.

And secondly: guys, I can’t give out information about where we live. This particular question isn’t the motivating factor for this post-there have been a few others- but I thought it would be a good time to discuss.

I’m already crazy-lady conflicted about mommy blogging in general - I’m too good at overthinking to ignore articles like this and this and not start to convince myself that I am destroying Olive’s childhood and any future career prospects by posting pictures of petting zoos and updates on potty training - I can’t start worrying about that spilling over into real life, too.

I’m not a luddite. I am aware that if anyone were motivated enough and savvy enough, they would be able to suss out where we live fairly easily but I am trying to keep that aspect of our lives private because dang, a girl’s got to have some secrets, you know? So while I am proud to say that we live in British Columbia, Canada, I won’t really getting more specific than that and I hope you understand.

Internets, I wish I knew how to quit you. But until I figure out how (pleasegodnevernevernever), I hope you’ll keep bringing on questions about why Olive always looks like she’s stuck eight fingers in a light socket (bad hair genes), or why Gus almost had to get a gold tooth a few weeks ago (long story).

Now, to take the edge off of this post, here is a picture of Adam and I with smoky eyes.

Because it’s Tuesday.

We’re still BFF, right?

did you have any run-ins with cradle cap?? any cures? thx :)

Mon, 20 May 2013 16:45:00 -0700

Hmm, O never had cradle cap and although I’ve heard that it helps to bathe baby less, as well as massage the affected area with coconut oil and comb out the dry skin, I can’t attest to it through my own experience.

Any other mamas willing to chime in in the comments with remedies, tips or tricks?

I swear, this child is part dandelion.

Mon, 20 May 2013 10:45:48 -0700

I swear, this child is part dandelion.

Is using the homemade baking soda based toothpaste all right for the teeth/gums/enamel etc?

Sun, 19 May 2013 22:04:00 -0700

Yes! Totally!

I know baking soda seems really abrasive, and I actually had the same worries as you do, and stopped using my homemade toothpaste for a while. Then while doing research for the book I happened across a scale that is used to rate the abrasiveness of dental products.

It runs from 0-200 (0 being least abrasive, 200 being most). Baking soda clocks in at a measly 7, while the closest store-bought toothpaste rates a 35! So, baking soda toothpaste? Definitely safe.

BOOM. Hippies for the win.

If you have a question, click “Ask” to your right.

Adventure #3: The Farmer’s Market Adam was an unwilling...

Sun, 19 May 2013 21:56:00 -0700

Adventure #3: The Farmer’s Market

Adam was an unwilling adventurer for this one and we practically had to drag him. He gets bored with the market being the same every week, and honestly I can’t say I blame him. This early in the growing season there really isn’t much - some plants, lots of crafts, eggs, deliciously frothy goats milk soap.

I don’t go for the shopping though, I’m a total romantic, I have such a sweet spot for Farmer’s Markets and I find myself falling in love with them and their overinflated prices and sparse offerings almost in spite of myself.

I just love the sense of community and idealism, the unspoken feeling that we can change the world with these $6 free range eggs! Take these pictures of our chickens happily pecking in a sunlit field as proof!

Olive loved the people watching, as I always do, too - a pastime leftover from my own days behind a market booth alongside the teens I used to work with, selling our overpriced, meagre produce.

We bumped into old high school friends of Adam’s, rode the train, Olive had her breath taken away by a swing hanging from two suspiciously threadbare ropes.

It was bliss. It was simple, sunny, hopeful charm. I liked Adventure #3.

Adventure #2: Victoria! (Tues-Thurs last week) P.S. I...

Sun, 19 May 2013 11:35:44 -0700

Adventure #2: Victoria!
(Tues-Thurs last week)

P.S. I definitely did not eat an entire bag of cheesy dill Kernels popcorn with a spoon during one of Olive’s naps in Victoria. Nope. Not this girl. (Lying through my cheesy dill crusted lips)

Adventure #1: The Pool! (last Thursday

Fri, 17 May 2013 21:00:50 -0700

Adventure #1: The Pool!

(last Thursday

Coffee. How does it work?

Fri, 17 May 2013 16:48:29 -0700

Someone out there is just dying to explain this to me, I know it.

Why, when I go to some coffee shops and order a decaf coffee, why do they give me an Americano?

“Is an Americano ok?” they ask, and I think to myself, “I don’t know…is it? Is it decaf? Which is what I ordered? Because I can’t have real coffee? Because my baby won’t sleep? JUST GIVE ME A DECAF DRINK THAT I CAN DUMP CREAM INTO AND PRETEND ITS THE REAL THING I DON’T SPEAK YOUR WEIRD COFFEE LANGUAGE”

“Sure!” is what I say. With a meek smile.

So. Internets, why does this happen? Explain my life to me please.

Don’t worry guys, Olive got us home safely.

Fri, 17 May 2013 16:40:38 -0700

Don’t worry guys, Olive got us home safely.

SurPRISE!

Wed, 15 May 2013 23:11:00 -0700

My family has developed this strange habit of surprising each other with our presence.

I don’t know when it started, but the way it works is that one of us will be going to a family get together, hanging out at home, or just going about our daily business whenBOOM! SURPRISE SIBLING!

The best one so far (for me, anyway) was when my sister made an unnanounced visit for my baby shower.. (turn down your speakers y’all…there is much screaming and shrieking of “OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!”)

(EDIT: I can’t upload due to privacy settings on the video…but I’ll work on it. Just know that I was huge, and yelly, and excited.)

(Oh man, I miss that belly. Have I mentioned that before? I MISS IT)

It’s even more fun to surprise people now that Olive is in the mix, because showing up just me is alright, but showing up with Madame ChubbyCheeks is just beyond.

That is what I did yesterday. I was super sad that my mom had gone so long without seeing Olive (book writing, and vehicles, and finances, and time always seem to get in the way), and although I couldn’t make it in time for Mother’s Day, I did managed to hitch a ride with my brother in law, stuffing strollers and high chairs and suitcases into his minivan and hightailing it to Victoria to surprise her.

We arrived at her floating house around 2:30, I ate a delicious burrito, Olive and I napped, and at 5pm my mom got home from work. There was a gift on her kitchen table (a copy of the Olive’s Birth Day book I just finished making) and a sleeping baby in her guest room. She was so excited, and Olive was too, except she showed it by wailing because she was startled awake by all of the happy celebrating - oops! Sorry, Olive.

Anyway, it was lovely, it has been lovely lunching and shopping and spending time with my mom and Mawney, Tomorrow we all go back home for a May long weekend visit.

I am also starting a social media cleanse tomorrow that will spill into an iPhone cleanse that I have been dreading/putting off pretty much forever. Oh lord, I so do not want to do this, but I must I MUST. Shit is getting ridiculous.

I’ll elaborate more later. For now, sleeeeep.

I have Gitelman's too! How old were you when you were diagnosed? I was eight years old. Do you have any advice on how to live normally because with high school and all my other issues I'm having a very hard time. I hope you're doing well!

Wed, 15 May 2013 22:45:00 -0700

Aw, diagnosed at eight? That’s rough. I was diagnosed at 23. I’m sorry you have Gitelmans, but glad you found me!

In my experience, the symptoms and management of this kidney disease vary widely, so my first advice would be to get yourself a good Nephrologist and work with him or her to properly manage your condition.

Other things I have found to help:

- Avoid drinking, which can deplete your magnesium really quickly and cause tetany/hospitalization (in my case, anyway). This might be tough because you’re in high school and damn, sometimes that’s easier said than done. Try to be smart though, and if you know you’ll be drinking, make sure someone knows your condition and/or get a MedicAlert bracelet, mix your drinks with gatorade or powerade to replenish electrolytes, and consider beefing up your medication a few days beforehand if your Nephrologist allows you to adjust your dosages as needed.

- Excessive exercise, heat, or sweating can also deplete your electrolytes

- Avoid coffee and black licorice

- Epsom salts are made from Magnesium Sulfate, so pouring a cup or two into a bath is a great way to absorb some extra mag

-Get regular blood tests to stay on top of things

- Research, understand and remember that low magnesium fucks with your head. When you start feeling depressed, unmotivated, overwhelmed, OCD, of lethargic, this is low Magnesium talking.

-Start breastfeeding something so that your Gitelman’s will be temporarily cured, CURED!

-(kidding. obviously)

That’s all I can think of at the moment. I wish you the best in managing your condition!

Send me an email at info (at) sweetmadeleine (dot) ca, I have some more info to pass on :)

If you have a question, click “Ask” to your right.

Do you read the blog Two Little Jacksons?

Wed, 15 May 2013 22:33:09 -0700

No, but I just took a peek and it’s beautiful.

Surprise visit to Grandma! (And Olive just noticed the ceiling...

Wed, 15 May 2013 14:34:52 -0700

Surprise visit to Grandma! (And Olive just noticed the ceiling fan)

We take dental hygiene RUL serious round here

Wed, 15 May 2013 11:25:03 -0700

We take dental hygiene RUL serious round here

When Olive was still young and she slept all those hours, weren't you worried that she wasn't getting enough milk? I know of a baby that had to be put on the drip because he slept so much that he got dehydrated.

Tue, 14 May 2013 10:13:41 -0700

Oh, I went back to the 7 month post (which I’m guessing this question came from) and I think I might have accidentally misled you, because apparently I don’t know how words work.

What I said was something like “Olive started sleeping through the night at two weeks” and what I SHOULD have said was that she was two weeks old the first TIME she slept through the night.

For the first few weeks she woke up every 2-3 hours, and you’re absolutely right that if she wasn’t waking that often, nurses/midwives would be encouraging me to wake her until she regained her birthweight because little babies can often sleep through feedings and then get weak from hunger and sleep more and miss more feedings and OH MY GOD YOU’RE STARVING YOUR BABY!

So she woke every 2-3 hours, with the exception of that night when my mom took Olive into bed with her and I woke five hours later with ginormous boobs thinking my baby had been rolled on or something.

I think at about three or four weeks old she was over birth weight and started doing a four hour stretch, then every two after that.

Then I have no idea but I know she was sleeping 8-9 hours at Christmas.

SO, thank you for making me clarify. I don’t want to be that guy who’s looking back through rose tinted glasses talking about how my baby shat gold and slept ten hours from the night she came home.

NOT TRUE.

If you have a question, click ’ Ask’ to your right

Olive is very into Gus lately. In her opinion, him walking...

Tue, 14 May 2013 00:27:15 -0700

Olive is very into Gus lately. In her opinion, him walking into a room is the funniest thing ever, watching him go down the stairs is even better, and any time she manages to squirm close enough to grasp a handful of fur her whole face contorts with glee and you can practically hear her whispering “My precioussssss!”

Gus, on the other hand is a little less enthusiastic about this newfound source of attention. He’ll tolerate her wide mouthed gasps and grabby hands for a few moments, but after seven months of being told, “Gentle. Gennnntle. GENTLE!” anytime he came within three feet if her, he’s not taking any chances.

I keep telling him, “Gus, this is the kid who will be sneaking you (organic) (free-range) (gluten free) (homemade) chicken fingers from her high chair.

And yes, she’s a little creepy now with the crazy hair and the missing pant legs and the hissing of ‘We wants it!’, but you best start licking some feet, buddy.

For the chicken fingers sake.”

Do you want to go back to work?

Mon, 13 May 2013 13:06:00 -0700

No.

I never want to go back. Ever, ever, ever.

When I was a young, naive arrogant little thing, I used to follow this up with, “…Why would I have kids if I’m just going to hand them off to someone else to raise them?”

Oh, oh teenaged-Madeleine. You were so blind to the ways of the world. Such a know-it-all with so little knowledge.

It literally never occurred to me that staying at home to raise my children might not be an option. It never occurred to me that we would not be able to swing it financially, I never realized that this choice might not be so easy to make.

I am still hopeful that life will intervene somehow. I am hopeful that maybe Adam’s job will pay well enough that we can get by on one income (I am happy to sacrifice to make this happen). I am hopeful that maybe I will somehow, inexplicably become an international best seller and can live off of residuals for life. I am hopeful that maybe a part-time job would do it, cover the gap between expenses and income.

So to conclude, no I don’t want to go back to work. It is my fondest wish to spend my days with Olive, teaching her and playing with her and being there for her when she needs me. But I will go back, if I have to.

Of course.

Word(s) To Your Mother

Sun, 12 May 2013 14:04:00 -0700

It’s my first time on the other side of this gig, this whole multi-million dollar Mother’s Day shebang.

It’s my first time being celebrated, instead of celebrating others, My first time being the subject of whispers and the reason for tiptoed plans.

I think I must be doing something right, because my lovely daughter is just the most thoughtful baby ever. She gifted me with a solid ten hours of sleep, and then Adam scooped her as soon as she woke up and let me sleep in until an embarassingly late hour.

Then, when I finally dragged myself out from between the sheets there was flowers and fruit, tea AND coffee, and a sweet “World’s Best Mom” certificate, signed with the painty pawprints of both Olive and Gus. (I have a feeling Gus probably organized that one, clever boy.)

*****

One year ago today, I was here:

16 weeks pregnant, and writing a post about how we didn’t celebrate Mother’s Day, because I wasn’t a mother yet. I hadn’t yet discovered that verb, to mother. I hadn’t discovered the width and breadth of it, the sleepless nights and dirty diapers and heart-shattering pulse of it , all of that was yet to come and although I was antsy for it and desperate to experience it and I got a lump in my throat thinking about it, we didn’t celebrate.

I distinctly remember thinking to myself, Next Mother’s Day I will have a seven month old. It seemed so fantastical, like saying “Next week I will be a millionaire”, or “Next month I will be sipping fine champagne from Gosling’s exquisite belly button”.

But here we are. Celebrating my very first Mother’s Day, with the girl who made me a mother.

Even better, I now find myself in the middle of this little celebration sandwich, being feted and feting others, too.

Having become a mother myself, the significance of the mothers in my life has loomed to ten times their former size. Growing up I remember my mom, obviously, I remember her comforting and scolding and reminding and motivating, and I even recall, hazily, her with my little sisters as infants. But that is absolutely nothing in comparison to seeing her with Olive, seeing through my grown-up adult eyes how she is with babies, how deeply she loves, how she physically can not bring herself to visit without a bag full of gifts, how she’s already planning sleepovers and tea parties for when Olive is older.

Seeing my mom interact with my daughter has been a fascinating little glimpse into how she must have interacted with us. The same instinctive rocking and shushing movements, the same words and phrases, echoes from thirty odd years ago, cloaking Olive in the same sense of security that I always felt. That strong, warm, Oil of Olay scented safety.

Being here, now that I have become a mother, now that I have mothered, I am incredulous as I look backwards. I’m in awe as I realize again and again that everything I am doing for Olive, everything I have done and will do, she did for me. And for my brother Liam, and for my sisters Lizzie, Claire, Hilary and Mawney.

She did this, all of this that I am doing, TIMES SIX!

Internets, could not create a better role model if I tried.

Everything I know about this strange journey towards motherhood has been learned - through word, deed and example - from this magnificent lady here.

And of course, there is one other mother, too. One I managed to luck into through marriage instead of claiming by birthright.

One who managed to survive raising a daughter, and then these two:

(Adam and his twin sister Leigh, circa oh my god I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe! The shorts! The shirt! The sunglasses! The STANCE!)

She managed to survive raising him (which, if you know Adam at all, is no small feat) and she passed him off to me and then two months ago she not only welcomed our little ragtag family into her home, but even seems to enjoy it. Kind of a lot.

We always joke about Adam, Cathy and I. But the truth is that she deserves at least half the credit for the fact that he is one of the most strong, loyal and truthful men I’ve ever met. He’s respectful of women, hard working and not afraid to cry either (like while watching Tinkerbell and the Great Fairy Adventure, for example).

I am so lucky to have two incredible moms, Olive is even luckier to have two amazing Grandmas, and you, Internets, are the luckiest, because for Mother’s Day I have gifted you with the best gift of all - scrawny ten year old Adam dressed in the finest the early 90’s had to offer.

You’re welcome.

And Happy Mother’s Day.