A girl and her dog

As a mum, I want many things for my daughter. A healthy body, a fulfilled career of her choosing, lots of love from friends and family, great hair and the courage to follow her dreams.

Her talents and loves will be her own, I know that. As parents, we can introduce our children to many things, many things we love in hopes that they'll share in our passions. Some things might even be heriditary, if my love of farming, massage and midwifery are any indication.

Chou's apparent love of animals started early - her first real belly laugh was at a pug in the park - and besides her falling asleep at her first horse show, all animals have captivated her from the get go.

Getting a puppy wasn't just for Chou, of course, I've missed having an animal in the house since we last had a cat years ago. But in choosing Pico I had hoped, hoped, hoped that Chou would love her and build the kind of memories I have of our old farm dog. I think of how I trained him to jump fences and tried to get him to pull me on a "dogsled" (I used a regular collar and leash and tried to slide on my boots. Besides a lot of coughing the dog didn't do much). My cats, dogs, horses et al were my best friends and confidants growing up. I want that for Chou, but know that not everyone is an animal lover.

But if our mornings are any indication I needn't have worried.

Chou's first words in the morning are "Pico! Pico!" and sometimes "Daddy", but not usually. Instead of colouring on the walls, she now spends those early minutes before breakfast is ready running back and forth howling with glee as her dog chases her. She falls on the floor, the dog licks her and she giggles and giggles. When I pick her up from daycare, she looks past me and asks "Pico?" as I usually bring the pup with me. She gets jealous when anyone but she holds the dog.

It makes my heart sing.

Playing house in the snow.

Kisses

Hugs. We're working on gentle handling of her dog. Right.

The unintended consequences of daycare

Last Christmas the only thing Chou really seemed wowed by was the crinkle of the wrapping paper and the tags on her presents.

This year we're making a bigger effort - we stream classic Christmas tunes on the iPod dock and have actually purchased gifts (for the first time in a very long time - all but a few are hand made, repurposed or antique bought right here in town). We went so far as to plan for a Christmas tree. We bought a stand, lights and a few ornaments and I've strung popcorn for Mother Nature's favorite garland.

Anyone notice what's missing out of that description? Um, yes. A tree.

Unlike any other city we've lived in, Regina is rather short on Christmas tree lots. The only thing I could find was a $40 gigantic tree when what we want is a sickly, cheap Charlie Brown tree.

Chou is undeterred by our lack of tree. Yesterday she came home and while dancing in the living room used the tub of ornaments as a drum exclaiming "Ho, Ho, Ho!"

Ho, Ho, Ho?

What we haven't even mentioned in our newly-found Christmasness is Santa. Let alone that he says Ho, Ho, Ho. We're still undecided as to how we handle the Santa talk. Are we a Santa house? We weren't in our house and I never felt left out of the Christmas loop. Which brings us to how the heck does Chou know?

The answer: daycare.

After my initial surprise, I've decided I'm OK with it. We're not religious, we're simply not really into the Santa side of the holiday. So if daycare wants to teach her about the fat elf, so be it.

Why am I so OK with it? Daycare was also first to put her in a big girl bed, is totally keen with letting my less than 2-year old practice sitting on the potty and - here's the kicker - picks her up and drops her off when it's colder than -20 so I don't have to walk, which is nearly every day right now. Yes, really.

Heck, they can teach her to LOVE Santa, if these are the trade offs.

How to lose weight

1. Do very little exercise. We're talking NO RUNNING for two weeks. Beyond my daily walks, I have done zilch in the workout department.
2. Cut out liquor
3. Eat a salad a day and make veggies the focus of most meals except when:
4. Binge on crackers, eggnog in coffee and full-fat cheese
5. Step on the scale and reap the rewards

That's right - I'm down 1.5 pounds after two weeks OF NOT DOING ANYTHING

What gives? I need motivation to get and keep going, not de-motivation.

In fairness, working out is not all about dropping pounds. I like moving. I sleep better, handle stress better, I'm more fun to be around and work more efficiently if I'm also active. There are plenty of reasons to work out, but in my plan to drop a few pounds working out figured prominently.

So much for that plan.

Plan B? Cheese, carbs and TV watching, apparently.

(I'm so kidding, but with windchills hitting the low minus thirties tomorrow, I may elect for some indoor sweating at least until Thursday. When it's going to "warm up" to minus 14. Wow. Heat wave.)

Snowed under

We're snowed under here. Not literally, mind you. In fact, it's nearly December and the sun is shining, there isn't a flake of snow left from October's storms and they're calling for plus temps through to the weekend.

No, my friends, we're snowed under by life right about now.

First off, don't start with the "I told you not to get a puppy when you've got a toddler blah blah blah" because, you know what? Pico is a doll. She's a doll! Yes, she's a puppy - she chews, jumps, pees now and then on the floor, but I've raised a few puppies in my day and none of them have been this keen to catch on to desired behavior. She's crated all night and only makes a sound when she hears me up with Chou. She's already spending an hour by herself outside digging, chewing, chasing and jumping. She comes when she's called. She loves Chou and they entertain the pants off each other.

Still, she is a puppy and having her here has changed the dynamic (for the better, but I'll get to that).

What's going on, really, is that our lives - work especially - are headed for busy town and there ain't no end until the spring. The husband is stressed out, pulled in a million directions at work and is feeling a bit over-run in paperwork. His physical well-being is suffering because he can't find the time to swim and work out. Our relationship consists mainly of chatting over dinner about what has yet to get done. The house is a disaster, the To Do list a mile long.

When the hubby's job gets busier, I've usually picked up the slack at home. The problem now is that my job is heading into its busy season. And when I say "busy season" I mean triple (I'm not kidding) the number of issues per month we did back in September. And we do that for three months straight. Add to that the farm shows and on-location coverage I'm supposed to do, plus a farm writers upcoming conference I'm on the board for, plus doula-ing, plus oh right WE HAVE A TODDLER, and well, both of us need a stiff drink at the end of the day (except that I'm trying to cut out booze. Which is just mean, universe).

This morning I took some time on the walk home to get mentally sorted out. Instead of forcing myself to write when I didn't feel like it, I organized my white board and created a new strategy for meeting my deadlines.

Then I got the greatest idea ever of leaving this all behind to start farming with Jen P and can you believe she turned me down? Something about not wanting to live in Saskatchewan. Unbelievable! :)

Oh, but guess what's taken a total back seat amidst all this tomfoolery? Yup, running. I missed Sunday's long run and haven't even trotted about for 30 minutes since.

I need an extra hour in the day.

And a maid.

I may have gone mad

But who could resist this face?





Meet Pico Pico (yes, her real name). A 2-month old Border terrier/Westie cross. I figure I'm wiping up pee anyway, may as well throw a new species in to liven things up. We picked her up this morning and already she's a joy to have around and is fitting in to Casa Wumpus. She eats everything off the floor and has chewed through two cardboard egg cartons. She also comes when we call and likes to follow Chou around. In other words, she's perfect.

She's also my answer to not having a running buddy. In a few months this beast and I will spend countless miles together, chasing deer. I doubt we'll catch any.

The week's tally

Let's just say that I stepped on the scale and could hear the boos from the crowd.

Sigh.

I'm not going to analyze it or deconstruct the week because, well, I ate too much of good stuff and while I did stay active, I managed to stay exactly the same weight. Yup, four weeks in and I've lost a whopping .2 lb. Yay? No. I know that I need to cut a measly 200-300 calories from my day to lose, but somehow I'm just not finding the place to do it. Add to that that I was at a farm show on Wednesday (meaning nothing but sugar, carbs and fatty meat to eat and drink for an entire day), and well, I'm not surprised.

Let's focus on the positive:

I managed all of my training runs, though one was .17 longer and another .47 short (side stitch, ate too close to running and felt gross). I will get some sort of workout in today, meaning I only took two days off. That's good.

The numbers:
Run: 14.88 miles
Walk: 7.5 miles
Shred: Once

(Will do Shred or Cardio or something today.)

I'm trying to focus on the good, but this whole weight maintenance thing? So not encouraging.

Saving Chuck Bass

There's nothing quite like a toddler kick to the head to get you to remember your dreams.

Chou is in her big girl bed, sure, but she's not staying in it all night. Sometimes, yes, but with eye teeth coming in and a snotty nose, she's been miserable. She wakes at 2 in the morning snurgly and angry and in need of snuggle time. I try and keep her in her room, but at that hour all I want to do is go back to my warm bed. So I, being the weak mother, bring her back to our bed and get a few more blissful hours of sleep.

That is until she has one of her rearranging sessions and ends up sideways, upside down and flailing at 4 in the morning.

Did I mention she never ever slept in our bed until a few months ago? Those were the days.

The unexpected side effect to this early morning flail is that I'm remembering oh so many more of my dreams. I've always been a vivid dreamer and used to love waking up laughing or simply happy having enjoyed fun or excitement while I slept. Sure, there are the bad ones, but the good drastically outweigh the bad.

This morning, for instance, I dreamed I was Chuck Bass's lady love (you don't watch Gossip Girl? Shame on you!), and had to save him from imprisonment by a well-meaning aunt trying to get him to clean up his act. Most of the dream I spent on horseback, riding through a mansion, up stairs, over fallen tables and the like (I know, WTF?). Sad for me, but most of the dream was spent saving, and not smooching, Chuck. But I also penned a lovely letter to my trapped darling. I woke up giggling.

See? There's a good side to mummyhood and the sleep interruptions. Really, there is.