Frick, shes cute

Horrible Quality (thank you, Blackberry) but man, I freaking love this child.

Bwa ha ha

The walk home

Six and a half months.

I am thinking of starting a paper link chain around my cubicle… A little folded link for every week between now and December 30th. Every Friday I will ceremoniously cut through another link. Another week gone away. I am quitting December 30th. I am elated. I am going back to school. I am going to get a job I want to do. A job that means something to me. A job that isnt simply a paycheque . A job that makes being away from Madelyn all. day. long. worth it ub the end. Yeah, Im excited.
Can you tell?
Oh, the things I would say on my last day, if I had the balls, and sane coworkers.

Six and a half months. Sigh.

That will be the begining

So… there’s a lot of talk going on at the Crawford-Baker homestead lately. Jer is going back to school. He’s been planning on doing this, well, talking about doing this, for years. Im glad he’s finally decided to go ahead and take the plunge. But its got me thinking. I know I want to go back to school. I know I want to get a degree. And a masters. And maybe even a PhD. So… maybe now is the time?
I started looking at courses on Human Resources. My Dad and step-mom are both in HR and I’ve long thought that sort of job would be fitting for me.
Im a people person. I like to help. I need a career that I can help people in. I need to feel satisfied.
We were driving home from the ferry Monday morning, listening to the cbc, as civilized folks often do, when a segment called ‘the hurried child’ came on. They had a psychologist sitting in talking about parents pushing their kids before they’re ready and the effects on socialization and esteem. I thought, God, what a perfect job. You get to help, you get to be with people, and you cannot leave that job without feeling some satisfaction in what you are doing.
Anyways, long story short, I started thinking about what it would take to become a psychologist. The answer: a lot of school. Obviously.
Part of my Dad’s job is helping people in their careers: finding the right path suited to their goals and their personality. He sent me an assessment and then we sat down and went over the results, and looked at fitting career paths for me. Second from the top was a psychologist. So I started thinking. And I started looking around at schools, and my options.
So… now Im debating between a couple of schools, and a couple of routes.
Do I quit my job, and go back to school full time? Try and condense my Bachelor of Arts – Psych into two years instead of four, so I can get on to my masters asap. And then work, and then after a couple practical working years, look at getting my PhD. I will accrue a lot of debt in student loans, and we will be living a much more modest lifestyle for the next few years.
Do I start taking all my courses correspondence, while still working full time, and crawl along to the finish line in the full four years plus the masters? We will be struggling to pay our bills and tuition, but come out the other side debt-free.
Do I scrap it and take the Business and HR route? With either student loans, or distance education.

Im so excited but Im freaking right out too. Im 26 years old. Im not going to be done until Im 30, at the earliest. As Jeremy has pointed out, school is not designed for adults with bills and kids and responsibilities. But I would have never thought of this kind of change when I was 18. And maybe age is actually on my side… Would you go see a 25 year old shrink??

The bottom line is this: I want a career I am happy in. I want a career I feel like Im doing something with. I want to be able to provide Maddy with everything and anything she wants (well, within reason and without allowing her to become a spoiled brat). I want th elife that I want. And the only person I know that can make that happen, is me.

So, now… I burry my head in my ipod and lose myself in Bat for Lashes… and I weight the options. And maybe look for some advice…?

April Showers

I read a lot of blogs, and I guess Im one of those people who kind of hangs out, watching peoples lives unfold from the corners. Im quiet, Im shy. But I think of those women, and their lives often. They are a part of mine.
One of the women, who’s blog I read regularily, and whos baby girl and mine share a name, has been heavily featured on EVERY blog I read. Her little girl passed away. At 17 months. No parent should ever feel what she and her husband are undoubtedly feeling today.
Another blogger wrote on how hard it was to explain her relationship with this little baby, and her mom. It is complicated. But we know the women who’s lives we read. We know their babies, and their husbands, and their exes. We know their struggles, and their joys. Theres a connection that is being made around the world that is still so hard to understand.

I know when I read the news yesterday, that I cried, big hard sobs, for that baby. And I know last night I brought my Maddy into our bed and slept with my face pushed against her neck, never wanting to let her go. I know a lot of mothers who held their kids a little tighter, and kissed them a little more. I know we all felt that in our hearts yesterday.

My heart goes out to Heather and Mike, and their families.

Please consider donating to Maddie’s March of Dimes page.

Madeline Alice Spohr.
November 11, 2007 – April 7, 2009.

Rest in peace baby girl.

This Day.

Madelyn Olivia,

I think of you. Every night, I think of you.
Before my eyelids win their heavy fight against my conscience, and I succomb to sleep I do my thinking. About the day that passed. About my job. About my wedding plans. About a new cd I listened to. About finances. About redecorating. About relationships. About everything my days contain. And always, always about you.

I think of what today taught you. All the days that have passed since you came into my arms. All the days that brought you new tricks to show off with. To wave ‘bye bye’. To shake your head no, or nod yes with your entire body. To say dog and mama and daddy and whats that, and my personal favorite, dance, dance, dance (da da da). To pull clothes up across your head, because you know thats how we get dressed. To make your train go “bbbbbbrrrrrrroooooomb” while you cruise across the kitchen. To speed along on your hands and knees faster than I ever imagined a baby could. To stand, so close to walking (but allowing me just one more day of having a baby and not a toddler). You grow in each second, Madelyn. Physically, emotionally, mentally. I am awed.
Those fingers, on which you used to spend hours trying to simply find and upon discovery, suck ferociously. Now they wave and point and tickle. Those toes I counted and nibbled and thought impossibly small. Now inches from taking their first free steps. That voice that I first heard cry out, then coo so softly. Now creates words, and squeels of happiness, and songs. The things you have mastered every day amaze me baby girl. Every night I think of all you have learned.

I think of what will come. A year has passed so quickly, too quickly. My heart aches for time to fall back so that we can do it all again. Every sleepless night. Every nurse. Every roll. Every bath. Every walk. Every cuddle. Every song. Every dance. Every smile. But there are years to come. They will bring memories all their own. You will walk, and run, and play games. You will dance, and sing, and write stories. You will create, and make believe, and change the world. You will make friends, and go to school, and leave our sheltered world. You will grow up. You will become a little girl, and then a woman. The person you will become is written all over you already. She will become stronger and brighter with those years that are coming. The changes you will bring stun me little one. Every night I think of all that will come.

I worry. Every night. Am I doing enough? Am I doing it wrong? Can I give you what you need? Can I help you be anything you want to be? Will I make you happy? Will you know how hard I tried?
The love that came when you arrived was one I knew I would feel. Unconditional. But the complete and all consuming fear that it brought, I never knew I would know. There is not a night that I lay down to that does not bring thoughts of who I am molding you to be. Becoming your mother changed me fundamentally in ways I did not expect. Nothing I do, from driving to work to flying across the world, is without a thought of you. Who you will be if I am not here. Who you will be if I am. The world can be a scary place to a mother; a constant game of chance. I could stay home and hide away with you, hidden from the world and all its frightening possibilities. But there is a prize if I chose to play, Madelyn. I get to be a part in watching you become amazing. I get to cheer you on at soccer games and watch your dance recitals. I get to hang your art on my walls, and read the stories you scribbled down. I get to kiss your scraped knees, and kiss you goodnight. I get to ground you, and tell you ‘that boy is no good’. I get to listen to you, and watch you, and experience you. I get to be your mommy. Every day, and every night I worry about what will come tomorrow.

And then, every night I push the door to your room open just before I go to bed and creep slowly across the floor. You’ve long since fallen into a deep sleep coma and tossed your sucky aside. The blankets are usually underneath you and in the most awkward spot to pry free and recover you without disturbing your slumber. Your delicious chubby thighs are spread width-wise across your crib, allowing your feet to slip through the cracks. I lean on the railing and stare at you, your chest rising and falling, your eyelids flickering with the movies in your head. But then, my favorite part? I break every mommy bed time survival rule and reach in and lift your little body up to me, and we dance. Every night, Madelyn. Then you stir, irritated Im sure to have been disturbed from your wonderful baby dreams, but with a flutter of eyelids, and a crooked little half grin, you snuggle your face into my shoulder and throw your leg over my arm to recreate your crib sprawl. And your breathing steadies again. And I smell the top of your head and just hold you, dreaming in my arms while we dance our night time dance. And I thank the world and all its ways for bringing you to me. Every night.

Happy First Birthday to you, my sweetest baby girl. I am so thankful for you, and everything you have and will continue to become.
I love you times 3 infinities and the moon.

Love, Mama.

Today is the one year anniversary of Madelyn’s due date. She was actually four days late, and so will be a year in four days.

Oh. My. God.

meme

1. I hate pineapple. On pizza, in drinks or any pineapple flavoured thing.

2. I dont eat anything from the sea. I tried desperately to like crab and shrimp, because they always look so delicious on other peoples plates. But I cant eat seafood without violently gagging.

3. I have moved 28 times. When I was a kid I can remember moving an average of once a year. I started so many new schools in January, because for some reason, we always moved mid-school year. And no, my parents arent in the military… they just liked to move.

4. When I was a kid I was a big liar, and I lied about the dumbest things too. I once told my mom and my friends mom that a man had followed me at the park and tried to kidnap me, because I was mad at my friend for leaving the park without me, and I wanted to teach her a lesson. Apparently I was mean spirited too.

5. When I was in grade two my parents seperated. While visiting my dad once my sister and I were playing at a park with a group of younger kids. I got mad and cornered one of them at the edge of the park and threatened to beat her up. I didnt, but for years I felt horribly guilty every time I saw that fence, because I thought it knew.

6. I am hugely vain about my hair. It is the only thing I believe to be beautiful about me, and I obsess about it.

7. I love condiments. The more the merrier.

8. A boy I once saw used to pick flowers for me from the gardens of the houses between his house and my work. The relationship didnt prosper, but its still one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me.

9. I am feircely loyal to anyone I love, friend, family or otherwise, but I am slow to forgive once I have been hurt, and can have a hard time letting go of past problems.

10. Up until my 20 week ultrasound I was very on the fence about having a baby. I still regularily contemplated having an abortion. Then, I saw the tiniest foot, and then a delicate little spine, and an ittie bittie heart beating with such force. And my breath hitched. And my eyes welled. And my own heart started pounding. And I hope one day she knows how strongly I loved her from that moment on.

11. Motherhood has been the single most difficult and simultaneously simple job I have ever had.

12. I had blue eyes until I was twelve, and then they turned grey, and then at fifteen they turned green.

13. I want to be a writer (when I grow up).

14. I have always wished I knew how to play the guitar, but I havent the discipline to teach myself, and music lessons intimidate me so badly.

15. I can sing, fairly well too, but Im terribly shy, and you will probably never hear me. I was in vocal jazz and choir in highschool… I have never sang for Jeremy.

16. I cannot whistle.

17. I had a recurring nightmare as a child about the michellin tire man, chasing me, and I STILL cannot look at him in commercials.

18. I have moles in the pattern of Cassiopeia on my arm, and I think the writers of ‘Serendipity’ stole that from me.

19. I lost my virginity in Greece. To an Albanian. But if you ask my father, it was with Jeremy, the day Madelyn was conceived, and that was the only time ever.

20. I love hot sauce. Jeremy bought a jar of Mo:le’s hot sauce and put it in my stocking. Being pregnant was torture, because I had such bad heartburn I could hardly ever eat any.

21.I love going out for breakfast any time of the day. Especially if it involves pesto potatoes and mo:le’s hot sauce.

22. I am allergic to penicillin and sulfa drugs. I found those both out the hard way.

23. I havent spoken with my brother since my sisters wedding six years ago. I randomly saw him at silvercity when I was seven months pregnant, and was too stunned to yell his name. I have no clue if he even knows about Madelyn.

24. I have never broken a bone.

25. I had a twin brother.

London calling

Im back, Im back! Ive actually been back over a week now, but have been revelling in cuddles and building towers and cutting tiny finger foods and changing bums.
I liked Paris a lot. But I LOVED London. The first hour we were there I called Jer and told him to start applying for jobs over there, because come hell or high water, or, a bad economy, we were moving to London.
I loved being yelled at by crackwhores in the tube .
I loved the ads for freaking ‘mayo chickens’ everywhere.
I loved the delicious and good for you fast food places. Yes, really.
I loved the free museums. Free. Museums.
I loved the tube.
I loved the buildings actually built on to one another.
I loved the fashion.
I loved the abundance of men (not that I was looking, obviously).
I loved the lack of snobbery.
I loved the pubs.
I loved the all in one shops.
I loved the history.

OMG I love London.

But I didnt love having to call home to hear Jers voice, and not being able to snuggle up on the couch and watch criminal minds.
I didnt love missing Maddys tooth come in and hearing about her crawling around saying “mum mum mum”.
I didnt love having to press my face into the nightgown I brought from her room to try and find the last spot full of her smell.
I didnt love being away from him, and her.

So I was happy to be home, and to hold Jer’s hand and see his face and hand gestures while he told me stories. And to feel Madelyn’s new little snaggle tooth and see her smile so proud. And to press my nose against her neck, and smell her deliciousness direct from the source.
Ahhhh, I love my life.
And its about to change. I go back to work in less than a week. February 2nd. My heart is hurting at the thought. When I was pregnant there were quite a few women I work with who said “You will miss the adult interaction, I bet you wont be able to wait to get back to work” and I scoffed. As if. I couldn’t wait to spend days playing with my little baby girl. And then three months of colic, followed directly by two months of heavy teething, all on top of post partum depression. I started tring to think of ways to go back to work, and let Jeremy just have her. But, then the clouds parted, and I started to enjoy my long and tiring days. I started to enjoy our routines of nap time, and play time, and destructo-rampage time. And I didnt want to go back to work. I started trying to think of ways to adjust our lifestyle so I could stay home with her until she was school aged.
But its not a reality…
Not with a wedding seven months away.
Not with a $1600 mortgage payment due every month.
Not with the cost of diapers.
Not with my addiction to starbucks.
And certainly not after that little trip to London. Because Im going back, and this time Im bringing her (and Jer) with me. Maybe permenently.

I shall post pictures soon. But right now? Its totally time to build some towers for destructo-rampage time.