Headline News

Sin Flamed

Blogger/Photographer/Mother Cinnamon Gurl was flamed at a small online photography site that uses members’ images and stories to publish a print magazine. Sin had adapted a blog post for submission to the magazine and within hours, a member who has posted no photos or stories, asked “So what ? I mean, just going downtown, find a homeless, take a photo, speak a little with him, and then ?”

Despite irritation and disappointment, Sin simply replied, “What would you prefer?” with little expectation of a response. Instead, she will just remain peeved for the rest of the day, forever wondering exactly what the person’s problem was with her work.

Editor's note: Flamed may be a bit of an exageration but forgive her, she's never had a remotely negative comment before.

Toddler Found Alone in His Very Own Big Bed This Morning

A two-year-old boy was discovered alone in his Big Bed this morning. It came as a pleasant surprise for his parents because although he’d been very excited about moving the Big Bed into his room on Sunday and sleeping in it, he’d also been very clear that the bed was for him AND his mama. This is the first time he’s slept through the night by himself since probably August, and it came after he fell asleep by himself too. His parents are tentatively overjoyed, anxious not to raise expectations (or probability of jinxes), but enjoying the moment nonetheless.

Hapless Husband Can’t Start Car and Gets Key Stuck in Ignition – Must Walk Child to Daycare in Small Umbrella Stroller Across Slushy Sidewalks Because Bigger Stroller’s Lock is Frozen or Jammed; Resorts to Internet for Solution to Key Removal Later

The headline says it all, really, and I can’t be bothered to report all the stupid details.

Deadbeat Driver Forced to Cough Up

A stupid person who shall remain nameless was painfully reminded of outstanding parking fines yesterday. It all started when she called the city about a parking ticket she found on her car when she'd been granted an exemption and they pointed out that it was because her license plate didn't have a valid sticker. "I thought the ticket was referring to a parking sticker... I totally forgot that my birthday meant I needed to renew my plates!" said the unnamed stupid person.

It got worse though, when she went to renew her plates and was told there were a lot of fines on the car. "I'd forgotten about those parking tickets last spring, and I figured they were about $100, $150 max. But from the tone of the clerk's voice, I wondered if it could possibly be as high as $300." Guess again... the fines totalled $566. The stupid person had no choice but to pay up.

And You Didn’t Ask But…

A small piece of advice to people who wear ear pieces for their cell phones instead of holding the phone to their ear: If you are arguing heatedly on the phone and gesticulating wildly in a public space, you may want to indicate somehow that you are talking on the phone, otherwise I may fear for my personal safety. If you do not have a cell phone and are arguing with someone nobody else can see, as you were… I’ll just hang back a bit.

Tomorrow's the Last Day to Vote!

Don't forget to vote for Sin. (If you want to... if you already have, many thanks...)

scene from a married life

Scene: Chez Cinnamon, the first morning of Sugar D's new job, the first morning he hasn't left long before Cinnamon Gurl, Swee'pea, or the sun have risen, the first morning of dual parenting after four months.

CG to SD: Well, I'll get our lunches together.

SD: Oh -- is there anything besides last night's chili for lunch?

CG, momentarily perplexed because Sugar D liked that chili a lot: Uhh, there's tortellini.

SD: Ok, I'll have that.

More confusion from CG, because Sugar D isn't that big a fan of tortellini...

Then the lightbulb goes on over CG's head.

CG, laughing heartily at Sugar D's expense: Ha! You just don't want to fart on your first day!

[pause] Can I blog this?

antidote

A while back, I put together two playlists: one with music to wallow to, because sometimes I like to sink back into my melancholy and let sad music music embrace me. Then, fearing it might make a listener suicidal, I made the antidote, a collection of songs that always make me feel good and alive. The playlist is heavy on African music, and there is one track in particular that I have been listening to over and over again lately. Its English translation is "Beware Verwoerd! (The Black Man is Coming)" and the women's voices ring out all joyous and the men's voices thrum below, their threat concealed by the melody. You can't help but tap your toe, and I guarantee you will find yourself humming the tune for hours after you listen to it. Not only does the music make me feel good, but also the fact that Africans would not be silenced by apartheid's long oppression, that they used music as both weapon and affirmation, and finally, eventually, as celebration once more. The point of all this, however, is not to muse on the significance of South African music in the struggle for freedom; you can watch Amandla! A Revolution in Four-Part Harmony for that (which I highly highly recommend).

I really just wanted an excuse to get you listening to "Beware Verwoerd" as background while I shared our very good fortune. The best I can do is this 30-second sample. (Please try and find the whole song from the Amandla! soundtrack - it's wonderful.)

Miriam Makeba – Beware Verwoerd (Naants' Indod'Emnyama)

We got some fantastic news. First, Sugar D got the job in Waterloo! And it pays even better than the Toronto job! This is the sign I have been looking for all summer. We were literally days away from putting our house on the market in preparation to move to the Big Smoke, and change everything. Three days before we were due to put the house on the market, Sugar D got an email about a job prospect in Waterloo. I heard late in the day at work. By the time I got home (like 15 minutes later) I was giddy at the prospect of not having to move, which made us think that perhaps we should reconsider everything, even if this particular prospect didn't pan out. He had to have two interviews, and this week was offered the job. So let's recap:

1. 3 days before making irrevocable moves, they approached him.
2. He was not actively looking for jobs in the area so wouldn't have seen the job on his own.
3. Even if he had been looking for jobs, he probably wouldn't have applied for this one, because the title was quite a departure from the usual job titles he qualified for.
4. Going back to his original position, the one that he lost back in May, now it's obvious that they did him a favour. He wasn't totally satisfied there, but he probably never would have gotten around to applying for other positions.
   

It's also looking like I will be getting a promotion at my work, which I will still be able to do part-time, bumping up to four days a week.

Houston, we have a sign!

So it looks like we were meant to remain here. Whenever people ask me how long I've lived here or why I moved here, I always used to tell them that I came here to go to school and never quite got around to leaving. Now, after going through this whole process, I can't say that anymore. We could have moved, and in the end we decided that we wanted to keep G-town as our home, that we belong here, at least for a bit longer. It feels much better living here because we actively want to than just being too lazy to get our shit together for somewhere else.

I haven't been able to blog about this awesome turn of events for nearly a week, waiting for the formal offer and for Sugar D to give notice at his current job (just in case any of his coworkers have discovered this blog) so my initial ecstasy has given way to a calmer joy and intense relief. Relief that all the open doors and possibilities and threats of change have closed, and we find ourselves in our own comfortable home, now even more comfortable knowing that we don't have to vacate it any time soon. After the months of emotionally distancing myself from our home, I feel the need to throw a house Re-Warming party, to jumpstart the process of re-inhabiting it.

Of course, the best part about all this good fortune is that it's not too good. I still have a child who will not sleep, and a mentally ill mother-in-law. So it's really just a nice balance now.

wordful wednesday

Hey look! It's Swee'pea, dressed up as a sullen teenager dressing up as a zebra!



Just kidding...



And Sugar D's jack'o'lantern, which sadly started aging prematurely.



I think his crowning moment was when a kid walked up on the porch and said, "Wow, what a great pumpkin! That's a black widow spider!" Which was absolutely accurate.

a meme that LOOKS like it's about Sugar D but really it's about me

1. Who is your man?

Sugar D

2. How long have you been together?

8 years

3. How long did you date?

5 years

4. How old is your man?

35

5. Who eats more?

He does.

6. Who said "I love you" first?

He did.

7. Who is taller?

He is -- by 1 inch

8. Who sings better?

We both sing horribly, but I’d have to say that I sing better. Or at least I sing more and he asks me to stop.

9. Who is smarter?

This is a tough one. He's probably smarter in a purely intellectual way but I may be smarter in a more pragmatic way. He remembers dates and names from books, whereas I remember street names and when to pay bills in real life.

10. Whose temper is worse?

Mine. It fires faster and more often, though his slow burn can be impressive -- about once a year.

11. Who does the laundry?

I do.

12. Who takes out the garbage?

He does.

13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed?

I do.

14. Who pays the bills?

I do.

15. Who is better with the computer?

He is.

16. Who mows the lawn?

I do.

17. Who cooks dinner?

Right now, with him gone for 12 hours a day, I do. Years ago, he did ALL the cooking (he makes delicious curries). But over the years I have slowly learned to cook and now my repertoire is big enough to carry us (mostly) through the week. When he worked in the same town, it was probably a 50-50 split.

18. Who drives when you are together?

We usually split it for longer drives. I drive there and he drives back. But I probably drive a bit more than he does when we're driving around town.

19. Who pays when you go out?

He does. Not that it matters because we pool all our money.

20. Who is most stubborn?

I am. Though he gives me a frustratingly good run for my money.

21. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong?

Well, I'm the first to admit when HE'S wrong. I'm probably also the first to admit when I'm wrong, but it happens so rarely it's hard to remember.

22. Whose parents do you see the most?

We see his mom most frequently but for shorter visits. We probably see more of my parents when all the hours are totaled.

23. Who kissed who first?

Oh crap. I seriously can't remember. I could probably reconstruct a version of it but what would be the point. It was probably mutual.

24. Who asked who out?

I asked him out, but he'd already given me his phone number and blushed and stammered.

25. Who proposed?

He did. Unless you count all the times I told him I wanted him to propose.

26. Who is more sensitive?

I am.

27. Who has more friends?

I do.

28. Who has more siblings?

I do. He's an only child.

29. Who wears the pants in the family?

I do. He knows it and I know it.



PS Sugar D would like it known that he also does the dishes, feeds the cat, cleans the litterbox, and finds it unfair that those questions weren't on the exam.

Yay!

Sugar D has a job! It's the job in Toronto, the one that requires four hours of commuting a day, but it's just too good of an opportunity to turn down. Besides, we can do anything for 3-6 months and in the meantime we'll look for opportunities to end the commute (with other jobs or a move). And, he should be able to get home by 6 in the evening, which is perfectly humane.

Ottawa is still on the table... right now the possibilities are dizzying and exciting, though at some point I expect they'll become just plain old uncertain and stressful. I have so much swirling through my mind (not to mention preparing two job applications for Ottawa jobs) that I haven't really been able to blog. I just can't keep up with or track the millions of directions in which my thoughts are darting about.

In related news, I've gone and fallen in love on the Internet, with a house. It's the most gorgeous house I've ever seen anywhere in our price range (our price range, of course, being dependent on both of us having jobs -- in Ottawa), and I could imagine living in it forever. Anyways, I'm only just managing to keep my head on my shoulders and am resigning myself that it is absolutely not the right time... I'm going to have to ban myself from the mls for a while I think. At least until we see how Sugar D's new job goes or until one of us gets a job offer elsewhere. Well... maybe I could just focus on places in Toronto because that would be a much less disruptive move at the moment.

Last summer, I fell in love with a fixer-upper in the Bo Kaap in Cape Town, the neighbourhood with all the colourful homes. Funnily enough, I'm pretty sure I saw it, unfixed-up, when we wandered around the neighbourhood this past January. Clearly, I have a history of these totally impractical love affairs with other houses. The funny thing is that I love our home. I wouldn't want to move anywhere else in G-town, at least not anywhere that we could reasonably afford.

Tribute to Sugar D on your Second Father's Day

Dear Sugar D:

Happy Father's Day! I tried to think of a gift that would compare with what you gave me for Mother's Day, but I didn't come up with much. Yes, this letter is a bit of a cop-out. I can just imagine your response: Yay! A blog post just for me! Yeah, well, I'm gonna do it. (But I will also work on some of those coupons...)

I always knew you'd be a good father, but even so, you have surprised me with just how good you are. I have known uncountable moments when my heart has swelled and thudded at your capacity for love and fatherhood and laughter. Those extra soft looks I see pass from your eyes to Swee'pea are sweeter than I could have imagined. And I felt soft with love, if a bit piqued, on the playground when you were too nervous to let Swee'pea ride in the swing. He'd done it before when you weren't there, but I liked feeling like for once I wasn't the only nervous nellie here.



I love the shock of pride at your skill as the Boogie Hunter and your ability to make me laugh -- both at the same time. Just last night during Swee'pea's bath, when the boogie that had been taunting you all day finally began to descend and you pounced, keen hunter that you are, and when you pulled it free and it was bigger than any you'd ever seen, I loved that you exclaimed, "Ohhhh, that feels so good... and yet so gross!" And I giggled when I had to examine the tissue myself, to see just how big it was with my own eyes, and it was BIG -- and gross!

From the moment Swee'pea was born and you followed him over to the little table where the various medical folks did various things to him, and you cut the excess cord even though when I was pregnant the thought had made us both squeamish, you have been a brilliant father. Even before, when I was nauseous in New Orleans and you kept tramping the streets with your whining hot pregnant wife, not pregnant enough to tell anyone but pregnant enough to suffer, and you never once complained about my whining (yes, you are a very smart man); you just kept looking for some kind of food that would appeal to me. When I was scared in labour and Swee'pea was in distress, and you made a point of putting the carseat back in the backseat, believing we would have a baby to take home soon, and I felt less scared.

After he was born, I loved that you wouldn't sleep until he was in my arms. And then after we were reunited, you took your job as breastfeeding ennabler so seriously (or was it just an opportunity to cop a feel?), keeping Swee'pea awake and helping me with breast compressions when my hand cramped. I love how you took to diaper changes like a pig in shit, and when I could finally struggle out of bed, you were the one who showed me how. I love how there were times during Swee'pea's newborncy when only you could settle him, listening to that cd of drumming.

Two years ago this weekend, we'd known about Swee'pea the zygote for about two weeks. Remember when I showed the faint pink plus sign to you, saying, "I think it's positive," and you replied, "Cool," with a big-ass smile that said giggity giggity, my boys can swim!? I panicked with the irrevocableness of it, the magnitude of that tiny clump of cells (and later I panicked with the fragility and vulnerability of that same clump of cells), and you just took it all in stride.

I remember later in the pregnancy, as my body and that clump of cells swept us towards D day, and I couldn't believe you weren't making any progress on The Expectant Father. I remember writing to my sister in a haze of fury that you weren't reading that damn book. It seemed to me that you were slacking off, that you didn't care, that that book would prepare you for all that was to come and you were choosing not to prepare. You never did finish it, but I did, and I think we can both agree it was a lame book. Now I realize how silly I was to think that book, or any book, could prepare either of us for what was in store.

It strikes me that back then I thought I would be the confident parent, the one who would just know how to do it, but it is you who has expanded to fit the role and remained stalwart. It's such a cliche, but you have been my rock through the stormy hormones and tidal wave of exhaustion.

A year ago this weekend, Swee'pea was just over four months old, and we'd just bought the crib. I was still valiantly trying to get him to sleep in it, like so many of the books said to, or we would never sleep again. I still hear the echo of the Baby Whisperer's commandments: start as you mean to go on! (or you're doomed). I remember getting angry at you, because you didn't seem to be trying at all, you'd just hold him for all his naps when you were here. I thought that made things worse for me when I was alone, but now, with the benefit of hindsight, I know that it didn't. Within a few months, I learned to enjoy the freedom of those naps when Swee'pea would sleep so well in your arms, and I could do as I pleased, freed from the endless cycle of putting him down and picking him up over and over and over again.

All of this to say thank you. I know I don't say it enough, but I feel like the luckiest mother around to have such a supportive partner as the father of my child. You never complain when I wake you in the night for help with Swee'pea, or just some company for my misery. I love that some nights lately I haven't even woken up if Swee'pea was sleeping in the crib and you were able to settle him without bringing him to bed. You are a good father, and I will try to give some peace and space today in celebration of that fact.



Love Always,
Sin

p.s. Even though the endless ChinesePodcasts sometimes get on my nerves, I love that you sing the Mandarin version of Frere Jacques to Swee'pea. So much that I have to go ask you for the literal translation again so I can post it here in this tribute to you.

Two tigers, two tigers
running fast, running fast,
one has no eyes, one has no ears,
How bizarre, how bizarre.

shock

Sugar D just found out he's been laid off, effective immediately, along with about 100 other employees. The package isn't bad, 8 weeks' pay, but still... my mind is racing and stuck at the same time. Change is scary. Getting similar work in this town will not be easy.

mother's day

**Now with more spice! Edited below to add a little bow chicka bow bow...

Swee'pea is napping. Sugar Daddy just came downstairs, and, when I asked whether he was going to nap as planned, struck a Superman pose, and said, "I don't feel like a nap; I thought I would go into the backyard and, I don't know, garden." And away his cape took him to the back of the house.

I am usually the only person in the house who does any yardwork, and I'm not very good at it and generally do the bare minimum (who am I kidding? That's my approach to every facet of my life...).

But yesterday, Sugar Daddy let the cat out of the bag about his plans for my mother's day gift. Which was fine, because I loved it so much, it totally made my day.

He's giving me 40 hours of his time to work in the garden over the summer. A few things have since come out since he first made his announcement.

1) He's been planning this for a while. He did mention a while back that he'd like to help out in the yard more, but then he went mum, apparently figuring that if he was going to do it anyway, he'd better stay quiet to get the double usage as a gift. (He also said that he thought making it a gift would make it more likely that he would actually follow through.)

2) He thought he would have a say in exactly what work he engaged in. (Ha!) And he thought that mowing the lawn would be one task that could be included. (WRONG.) I plan to use his muscles strategically, for heavy lifting like moving our ugly shed and perhaps even laying some new patio stones where the ugly ones were laid on uneven ground with nothing to prevent the weeds from coming up between the stones.

3) He's not sure he can fulfill the additional clause I insisted on putting in the Mother's Day Contract that he do this work on his own initiative without any reminders or nagging from me. Oh well. You win some you lose some.

4) He was worried that it was a lame gift, but in fact I LOVED it. I couldn't have thought of it myself and it's perfect. Yesterday we agreed on the jobs that would be good for him to do, and now we're both excited that perhaps by the end of the summer we will have a backyard that we can enjoy as a family.

To infinity. And BEYOND...

*************

(We also had a bit of a date last night and watched Little Miss Sunshine and drank wine and ate Rolos ice cream while Swee'pea slept, then I got to sleep in this morning before we went to our local greasy spoon for breakfast. And now he's out there in the garden delivering on our contract. Life is good.)

***************
New Addition:

Note: Henceforward, Sugar Daddy wishes to be known simply as Sugar D. “The Daddy was just gettin' between me and my fans,” he explained.

Earlier in Swee'pea's nap.

Scene: Cinnamon gurl is blogging, and Swee'pea has just been put down, asleep, in his crib. She feels hands on her shoulders, and they begin to work rhythmically at the tight knots and tense muscles. She leans her head back and meets Sugar D's eyes.

Sin: To what do I owe this pleasure?

Sugar D [coyly]: Oh, I don't know...

Sin: Are you trying to tell me nicely that you want the computer?

Sugar D: No. I want YOU.

Sin: Oh. Ok!

Cinnamon gurl immediately abandons blogging, nearly pulling a muscle so eagerly does she jump away from the computer. The blinds go down, curtains are drawn together, music is cued.

Passionate embrace follows. The two break apart, slightly breathless, and gaze into one another's eyes.

Sugar D: Um, you just have something between your teeth; it's just... it's a little distracting. [flustered] Er... Sorry... It's not that big a deal... just...

Awkward scene unfolds. Finally, Cinnamon gurl overcomes her mortification.

Sugar D [trying to look all sexy]: Now where were we?

Sin: Oh, I think you have some ground to make up.

[Fade to black.] Some time later, Cinnamon gurl resumes blogging.

Old Man

Today is Sugar Daddy's birthday, his 35th. Those multiples of five seem pretty important, for some reason, and I'm feeling some pressure to mark this occasion with something special. When I stop to think about it, though, I find prime numbers much more intriguing and significant than multiples of five. I mean, multiples of five are so predictable. Perhaps I am on my way to rationalizing myself right out of that self-imposed pressure to make this birthday special.

I forgot to wish him a happy birthday this morning. I remembered in bed when Swee'pea's no longer too-hot hands started lifting up my shirt for his morning nibbles, but Sugar Daddy got up at 5 this morning. And, after two nights of sleeping (of course there wasn't much actual sleeping going on but you get the idea) next to a feverish uncomfortable toddler whose busy tentacle-hands seemed intent on finding some point of entry back into my body, away from the discomfort of his own skin, when Swee'pea fell back to sleep this morning, so did I. When I woke up the second time, Sugar Daddy's birthday had flown completely from my mind.

(By the way, Swee'pea's had a fever that comes and goes for the last two days. He has no other symptoms, no cough, no vomiting, no diarrhea, no snotty nose, no rash. He has, however, been stuffing his hands into his mouth nearly constantly... I know the medical world says teething doesn't cause fevers, and so does most of the web, but has anyone had kids who developed fevers right around the time they were working on their first molars PLUS a few in front, I think?)

This morning Swee'pea and I went downtown in search of birthday-type supplies. I got stuff for a cake, and a card but apart from that, I mostly did selfish things... looking for books at the library (what do you do if you don't want to buy a book, but your local library doesn't have it?), where this sign made me sad;



stopping in at a massive moving sale at our local shoe boutique (sadly no dice there because of the phenomenon nomo observed recently) and snapping pics to remind Sugar Daddy to do something for me for Mother's Day.



(I also noticed an attempt at gentrification...



... a nice contrast to hearing a middle-age woman vomit just behind me and to the side during my second walk of the day when I couldn't get Swee'pea to sleep in the crib. [He also didn't sleep in the stroller... grrr] At least I think she vomited... there was a splash of a lot of liquid hitting the ground and spitting sounds and a woman's voice saying, "I TOLD you I wasn't... [didn't catch the rest but couldn't help thinking it was "feeling well," or "into drinking that"]...)

I also photographed an old man. I recognized him a week or so ago, recognized his icy blue eyes, a colour minty gum marketers would kill for. I remember him from some years back - I don't know whether it's 3 or 10 years ago. It was definitely before I got pregnant because I think I was drunk. It was around the same time of year, one of the first evenings when the sinking sun doesn't pull the temperature down with it, when we're still revelling in our liberation from the weight of winter clothes, an evening to enjoy a pint on a darkening patio and the novelty of mild night air on bare skin. Anyways, I think he was drunk too. I think he might have had a guitar and might have serenaded me or the woman I was with. Besides his eyes, more than anything I remember his whimsical suede turqoise cowboy hat complete with feather.

Today I saw him crossing the street down the way from me. I changed my direction and sped up with plans to somehow capture him with my camera. But I coulnd't make it work. I started to continue in a different direction, but the fat turqoise pinky ring and carved walking stick that he wasn't using to help him walk wiggled into my consciousness and I couldn't let him go. I followed him until I could overtake him, then stopped and asked for a picture. I mentioned I liked his ring, and he said, "Oh then you'd like a picture with it in it too," and posed appropriately. I think it's neat that he didn't want to look into the camera, but up and to the side, like he's contemplating something important.

I shot several shots, recomposing, reframing and refocusing. He asked, "How long do I have to hold this position?" I laughed... as long as you like, it doesn't matter.

I decided I'd better stop before he cramped.

He said his daughter has almost the same colour of hair as me. "She's fifty... where does the time go? Heck, I'm gonna be 80 in July. I don't feel it!" We parted, wondering where the time has gone.

Now that I'm working with the photo and have discovered his bright eyes lost in the deep shadow of his hat, I make a mental note to try a bit of fill flash next time I'm trying to make a portrait on a bright sunny day. Sadly, I don't think there's anything I can do to make this image work the way I wanted it to.

Boogie Man

Right back atcha, Denguy

*******************************

The other morning, I was catching up on bloglines (like we ever can) while Sugar Daddy fed Swee'pea breakfast. I heard him exclaiming about something.

Oh... he's got a HUGE boogie. I. must. get. it.

So Sugar Daddy dug in, and Swee'pea resisted and started to cry a bit and finally:

Aha!

Ewwwwwww!

It's so big it's not even satisfying. It's just gross.

**************************************

Yesterday I was catching up at Sweet Juniper, and he linked to babylegs a while back. I guess that's where they get Juney's tights, which I have LONG admired. So now I'm trying to figure out how I can dress Swee'pea in those tights. They do have boys with shorts and tights in the pictures, but with summer on the way, have I missed the boat? Do I just have to wait till fall now?

Also, I'm all for bending our baby gender rules, and it seems like it would just be an extension of the tie-dye and leopard print I already dress him in, but I'm second guessing myself now.

What do you think? Adorable? Or better start saving for his therapy?

In His Own Words

Well, only Mad took up Sugar Daddy on his offer of an interview, and she asked some doozies.... so here he is, Sugar Daddy, in his OWN words:

What went through your mind that day when you walked into Black's and first saw Sin?

She was striking with her long red hair and she moved in a confident way that suggested a devil-may-care attitude. I thought she looked smart, like someone who would be interesting to talk to and fun to be with... Oh, and I thought she was hot :-)

Why did you migrate to Canada from South Africa?

I had just finished High School & my mom was planning to come to Canada (parents were divorced) so I thought it would be a good opportunity to further my education.

When Sin's labour went into distress, how did you react?
Mostly I just felt helpless - I had tried the breathing - thing: counting , etc. but nothing seemed to work. I tried to find encouraging things to say, and I tried not to worry or appear worried, but I had the suspicion that something wasn't right. But this was my first time attending a pregancy so I didn't really know what was normal, so I deferred to the advice of the midwives, doula, nurses & doctors.

At what point did you know that everything would be ok and what did you feel in that moment of Swee'pea coming safely into the world?

I was never really sure that everything would be OK... I just didn't think about the possibility that it wouldn't be. But once it was announced that Kate would be having a C-section, I became more emotional as I knew that soon our baby would be born. When I saw him presented to me on a table, wrinkled and pink, I was overwhelmed. He seemed so vulnerable. I just remember crying a lot.


* * *

After I read his answers, I reminded him of the email he sent to his dad shortly after Swee'pea was born, which I thought worth sharing here, and he complied.

We are at home now -- we came back yesterday -- and we're settling into the parenting routine of feeding and sleeping when possible. The hospital turned out to be a more positive experience than anticipated: the staff were very helpful and considerate. So much has happened since Tuesday that it is overwhelming to contemplate. I had no idea becoming a parent would be so amazing, so uplifting. Of course there is much responsibility, but some kind of instinctive parental trigger has been pulled and there's never any reluctance to perform the necessary duties, only joy in serving one who is so loved. So euphoria competes with exhaustion, and time flies by. The birth was difficult and stressful for sure... home birth is only an option in low-risk births, and that ceased to be the case from early on in labor when the meconium was detected in the water.. not in itself dangerous but it necessitated monitoring and controlled position. It just didn't seem to be going right - the labor was too painful early on, and so an epidural anaesthetic was given. Although there was significant progress, the doctor in charge (care had been transferred from the midwives earlier) decided that C-section was the best option... they allowed me in to the operating room, and Kate was conscious though physically anaesthetized, and we were both quite emotional - indeed crying - at this stage. Fortunately I didn't see the actual surgery -- there was a curtain shielding us from the undoubtedly gory process, but we could hear the surgeons talking. Suddenly we heard a squawking cry and 'it's a boy!' ... they cleaned him up and took him over to a table where his vital signs were checked and found to be good. I was given a pair of scissors to trim the tough and stringy umbilical cord and he was then taken to the nursery in the neighbouring room. He was kept in a transparent incubator, but I was allowed to reach in and touch him which I gingerly did. He was alert and we stared at each other uncomprehendingly for a while. They had to monitor him for several hours but he was able to visit Kate, who was immensely relieved to see and hold him, and we cried some more. That night he had made enough progress that we were able to keep him in our ward room with us overnight, where I watched him with paranoia at every hiccup or cough. I held him a lot... he didn't spend much time in the crib. We spent the rest of the week at the hospital, learning to look after, change and feed the baby (fortunately he is breastfeeding) and recovering... Kate was not very mobile of course, and so I was very involved in looking after Ezra, and this continues...

random fun stuff

This morning a coworker sent me to this article about how Beijing is trying to ban Chinglish signs in preparation for the Olympics. I haven't been to Asia but I have friends who have and who have generously given me some wonderful treasures of Engrish. I think banning those signs will be a loss. Yes, Grammar Grump me loves to laugh at unintelligble English. I discovered a pool on flickr dedicated to capturing Chinglish treasures, where I found this:

Ice boy taken to the streets, originally uploaded by xiaming.

Somehow I also came upon a few treasures, unrelated to Chinglish but related to disco, on youtube. I just had to share this one:



Betcha never knew about the connection between disco and agriculture before did you?

And, while I'm on the subject of disco, I'd like to take a poll: do you think a disco-belly dance fusion solo would be cool or just plain silly?

AND finally, I have persuaded Sugar Daddy to participate in that interview meme going around. Now's your chance to get to know Sugar Daddy better! So whoever gets their questions to my email inbox first wins.

(not quite) 13 songs or albums that helped me fall in love with SD

OK, so this was supposed to be a Thursday 13 but (obviously) I didn't get it out on time. And, as you will discover shortly, I couldn't come up with 13. I got 9. I've been thinking about this ever since I got inspired by that music meme awhile back, and I still could only come up with 9. So this is a Friday Nine. Which is fine with me, because really, there's far too much catchy alliteration in our bloggy titles, isn't there?

One thing that struck me pretty soon after I met Sugar Daddy was that he had kickass taste in music. I found his taste VERY attractive. So here are the 8 albums that formed the soundtrack of his seduction of me.

Bran Van 3000 - Glee

I first heard the song, "Drinking in LA" in the movie, Playing by Heart. My friend and I saw it because it was what happened to be playing at our local independent cinema, and we loved it. Later, I discovered that the movie was marketed as a comedy, which I must say is a total crock. Certainly there are funny moments, but there are way more really sad, really moving moments. This movie was also my first introduction to Goodnight Moon. The scene that featured that classic children's book, incidentally, brought me to tears. Embarrassing, almost sobbing tears in a public movie theatre.

Anyways, I loved that movie, loved Ryan Felippe (I can't be bothered to look up how to spell his last name), loved the deliciously melancholy song, and when I discovered that Sugar Daddy not only knew who made the song, but owned the cd... well, I was toast.



(See? It's a good song! The rest of the album's pretty good too.)

Basement Jaxx - Remedy

With its tanned, shiny, naked bodies entwined on the cover, and the decidedly sexual moaning preface, this cd actually kind of embarrassed me when I first heard it. But it was also kind of irresistible in those exciting early days of a brand new relationship with someone I thought was way outta my league in his hotness factor.

Finley Quaye (eponymous I think but can't be bothered to look it up because I've already talked about it)

I already talked about how we danced to one of these songs for our first dance at our wedding... It's good stuff.

Ali Farka Toure- Radio Mali

I really admire(d) Sugar Daddy's eclecticism. And I like this cd.

Air - Moon Safari

This is such a fantastic ambient cd, it would have been enough all by itself. It's a great cd for a relaxing rainy afternoon (not that we have those relaxing afternoons anymore), or whatever.



(This isn't an Air video, but I love how the imagery suits the song so much.)

Massive Attack - Mezzanine

(I actually like No Protection better, but Sugar Daddy didn't have that one, he had Mezzanine, which is still pretty good. And, considering that I didn't have any Massive Attack, was still pretty cool.)

Africa: Never Stand Still - various

This remains pretty much my favourite compilation of African music. I highly recommend it.

Tindersticks (eponymous)

I'm not sure what it was about this cd that impressed me, except that it's pretty accoustic so it makes a nice counterpoint to all the electronic cds. Plus it reminds me A LOT of a super-talented high school band I liked once.

Indian Ropeman - Elephant Sound

I love the fusion of throbbing hip hop and more classical Indian sounds. Little did I know that this fusion thing would become more and more fascinating to me, especially after I started belly dancing in 2001(ish? 2002?) with a fusion-focused instructor. Love it.

* * *

Now, just to round out the 13 number, I offer you four tidbits that I've just picked up in Bill Bryson's Troublesome Words. I know, I'm a grammar geek.

"No reader should ever be required to retrace his steps, however short the journey."

"It is worth noting that affect as a verb is nearly always bland and almost meaningless. [...] A more precise word can almost always be found."

"The belief that and should not be used to begin a sentence is without foundation. And that's all there is to it."

"Where the authorities do find common ground is in the belief that approximate and approximate to are cumbersome and nearly always better replaced by something shorter."

Boogie Fever

Pretty much ever since we got back to Canada, Swee'pea has had a runny and/or crusty and/or gooey nose. On many occasions Sugar Daddy and/or I have found ourselves mining for nuggets, and not the golden kind.

The nuggets we're mining for dangle tantalizingly close to the edge of wee caverns and look like they'd be easy to pluck out with our bare hands. But our darling little Swee'pea refuses to let go of his wealth. He twists his head left and right, throws his head back, away from the line of fire, and screams bloody murder at the indignity of our operations.

I remember before Swee'pea was born, Sugar Daddy expressed disgust at parents having to pick their children's noses. For a while, I was on my own in my mining expeditions. But now Sugar Daddy has become my partner in mine, digging in even more enthusiastically than me.

The other night, we were trying to soak the nuggets out with a warm wet washcloth during Swee'pea's bath. It had worked to dislodge the nugget slightly, but not enough to really free it. Sugar Daddy rolled up his sleeves and went at it.

It took several passes, but eventually SUCCESS! The boogie was his. We both breathed a loud sigh of relief and satisfaction.

"Did you ever think you'd actually be doing that with your kid?" I asked.

"Well, I never thought I'd WANT to!"

Let's Talk

The other night preparing dinner...

Me: So... does your brain still melt down at the mere thought of another child?

Sugar Daddy: [pause] Uh, no, actually. I can consider it for half a second before my mind short circuits.

Me: And do you ever think that it might be nice to have another child sometime in the distant future?

Sugar Daddy: Well, no. But I kind of think it might happen, and I'll just have to accept it.

Me: That's the spirit!

[pause]

[through my laughter] Can I blog this?

Sugar Daddy: [displaying the same grim resignation] I guess so.

Flashback Friday: A Decent Proposal

Gah! It's been SO LONG since I've written a Flashback Friday post. In case you've forgotten, the Flashback Friday: Feminist Edition will feature a story that has something to do with being or becoming a woman or feminist. This series will continue until I run out of stories. Thanks to Sunshine Scribe for the Flashback Friday idea.

Pretty much as soon as we met, Sugar Daddy and I embarked on a heady spend-every-minute-together relationship. Marriage, in a way, came up fairly early, but not for the reasons you might think. My sister got married when we'd only been dating for about three weeks (if you can call spending every minute together dating). Sugar Daddy gamely let me cart him off to my parents' place for the weekend, and I totally left him to fend for himself among my family while I acted as Maid of Honour.

(Knowing him now, I can't believe I put him through this. But at the time I still thought he was a happy go lucky surfer type dude who just chose not to talk to other people very much. Now I know he's actually quite shy, and it must have really been a big deal for him. Regardless he made it through no problem. My aunt got drunk and started going on about how Stella got her groove back and that she'd like to get her groove back -- winking at SD all the while -- and my brother approved of my choice in date, citing three reasons: Sugar Daddy went back for seconds at the buffet, he looked uncomfortable in a room full of people he didn't know, and he smiled easily.)

So it was a beautiful wedding, and while people in most early relationships try to avoid the m-word, it was pretty unavoidable in our case. I remember Sugar Daddy said that he thought dating for about a year was a good timeframe to starting thinking about getting engaged. I thought this was a little soon, but didn't say it. (A few years later he had absolutely no recollection of ever voicing such a thought.) On our first anniversary, we went out for dinner at a fancy restaurant downtown, and I wondered if he would pop the question. I didn't feel ready, and ended up spending the meal going back and forth to the toilet. In retrospect, I think it was my first panic attack (the first of many to come). I think Sugar Daddy enjoyed the wine and both our meals without me.

A year later I was feeling ready to move forward in our relationship. We'd been living together for over a year, and we seemed to be going along tickety-boo. Our second anniversary came and went, and I can't actually remember what we did to mark the occasion. I think he gave me the silver bracelet with the Greek key pattern that still adorns my wrist today.

Patience has never been a virtue of mine, and I was starting to get impatient. Before I met Sugar Daddy, I never understood those relationships where one partner wants to get married or have some other form of commitment and the other one totally balks. Well, I can understand that part, but I never understood how uptight the commitment-philic one can get, and how it often eventually deteriorates to an ultimatum. I mean, if you love living with someone enough to commit for life, why is that not enough? Why would you want to consider starting over with someone else?

But all of a sudden I found myself in that very situation, in that very frame of mind. I had never really been keen on marriage itself before, never really had the dreams of the big white dress and the fancy cake when I was growing up. Actually, my teenage fantasies always involved reclusive behavior with either a bottle (or several) and a typewriter, or various large animals, for companions. I had decided that I wanted some kind of life partner eventually, but I never felt that marriage was a necessary part of that.

But once Sugar Daddy started putting the brakes on the commitment train, I started really reving the engines. I got really focused on marriage. By our fourth anniversary, we were living in our house, and having frequent heated discussions. Besides the marriage thing, there was the kids thing. I knew I wanted kids, he didn't know what he wanted. I don't know how to explain it. I really wanted to share my life permanently with Sugar Daddy (as permanently as anything can be), and I wanted him to be the father of my children, but if that wasn't going to make him happy, then I'd better hurry up and start looking for someone else. I worried that he could spend his whole life trying to figure out what he wanted and not figure it out until it was too late.

By Christmas, I was getting pretty heated up about all this. I sort of figured that if he didn't propose on Christmas or my birthday, that that would be it. I really wanted to be with him, but I'd already invested 4 1/2 years of my life with him, and felt that eventually one of us had to shit or get off the pot. We went for the usual Christmas at my parents' place, and we opened our gifts Christmas morning. No ring. No down on one knee thing.

I caught sight of tomorrow's birthday present for me under the tree early in the day, and it was obviously not a ring, since it was a shoe-box sized gift. This really upset me. I spent the whole day alternately ranting and weeping to my family about how we were going to have to break up, and why didn't Sugar Daddy want to marry me? I mean, I was smart, I was kind (mostly), I had red hair, AND I belly danced... what kind of man wouldn't want to marry me?!?

That night we sat around playing cards and laughing, and drinking, and I got quite drunk. By the time Sugar Daddy and I went to bed, I finally started ranting at Sugar Daddy instead of my family. He said, "Look. I'm tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?" I think I tried to keep going, but he just turned his back and went to sleep. I don't think it took me long to pass out, after such an emotional and alcoholic day.

The next morning, I was not particularly enthusiastic about opening my birthday gifts but I went through the motions. I left Sugar Daddy's for last, I think, and eventually got around to that damn shoe box. It really was a shoe box under the wrapping paper, just as I suspected. In the shoe box were some random items: a wooden elephant sculpture, that I felt touched that he would give me because he'd had it a long time, an old glass bottle, and something else I think. Then I found an amber ring with a piece of paper rolled up in it. I put the ring on my left ring finger, and it fit, and my brother said sarcastically, "Yeah right. Wishful thinking."

I unrolled the paper, with its handwritten question written simply, "Will you marry me?"

My heart seriously pounded and I looked at Sugar Daddy disbelievingly, a little out of breath. He sort of nodded, and his eyes looked wet, and I hugged him. I remember my brother saying, "Holy shit!" at some point. My parents laughed ecstatically, and hugs went around like glasses clinking, and finally in a quiet moment, Sugar Daddy looked at me and said, "Well?" I guess I hadn't actually answered him yet (as if he didn't know).

Even though I'd been totally pushing for it, I never questioned the sincerity of Sugar Daddy's proposal. He came to it in his own time, despite my pushing (certainly not because of it -- he's stubborn like a bull), and his wet eyes and tentative, "Well?" gave away how important this was to him.

Getting engaged really changed the tone of our relationship. We became more of a partnership, and really shared in the decision-making, knowing that we were in it for the long haul. After the proposal, when we fought, instead of constantly wondering if it was time to leave, if maybe this was it, we wondered how to get through this, how to resolve it so we could both be happy. Planning the wedding was our first real joint project, and I'd say we did a pretty great job.

I'm awfully glad he proposed. I can't imagine undertaking the crazy job of parenting a new life with anyone else. And he is a truly wonderful person. Sometimes I think he is all the things that I can never be no matter how hard I try: kind and gentle and tolerant. He articulates the things that I can't, and elevates my pragmatism with his dreams and idealism. He is a better father than I could ever have dreamed of, and I think that is what I most enjoy sharing with him: the amazement and wonder at the small life that embodies and expands our love for one another.

Oh crap, now I've got tears pricking at my eyes again.

Our Wedding

(Gah!! I have struggled for hours to get the photos in here. So enjoy.)

I won't tell the engagement story yet, I'm still not ready. But I will say that Sugar Daddy proposed on my birthday three years ago. I knew I wanted a summer wedding and thought it would be great to do it on or near the anniversary of our first date. So the date was easily set. I also knew that I wanted it to be at my parents' farm, so that winter, we traipsed out behind the barn and picked a spot that was relatively flat and clear of trees. My mom was horrified with our choice because guests would have to walk past the manure pile but I was adamant. My dad assured her that he would move the manure pile before the wedding, and he was good on his word. He also spent the spring and summer mowing a clearing in the tall grasses and wildflowers, so that on the day, there was a big green lawn surrounded by a wall of tall grasses, milkweed seed pods that looked like clouds puffing out of little canoes, and goldenrods and New England asters in bloom. For a native plant geek like me, it was perfect.

Sugar Daddy built an arch out of branches he and my dad cleared away, and we decorated it with wildflowers.

I spent quite a few hours searching for the dress with Banana, and I was surprised to discover that I didn't want something simple. The one I chose was absolutely perfect: strapless, ivory organza type fabric, bronze beading the same colour as my belly dance costume all over the bodice and running down the full skirt, not much of a train.

I was surprised by a few things about my thoughts and plans for the wedding. I wanted some formality. I wanted tuxes for the groom and groomsmen, and matching bridesmaid dresses. I had always assumed that I would be married in a civil ceremony because I didn't go to church, but I realized that we were getting married for spiritual reasons not legal reasons, and I wanted our union to be blessed by someone in a position to bless us. I also wanted this to be OUR day, not MY day.

Last night at the daycare, the woman mentioned that it was the first time a dad was at an interview with her. She usually only deals with the mums. And I was surprised. It really didn't occur to me that Sugar Daddy wouldn't be involved in the decision. It was the same with our wedding. I did a lot without him like the dresses, but mostly we did it all together. We spent a lot of time in the spring developing our ceremony with the minister of the United Church in my parents' town. Sugar Daddy found some scripture to make the minister happy that didn't offend me, and on the day, months after these decisions, I was surprised with how beautiful the words and the ritual were.

This marriage

May these vows and this marriage be blessed.
May it be sweet milk,
this marriage, like wine and halvah.
May this marriage offer fruit and shade
like the date palm.
May this marriage be full of laughter,
our every day a day in paradise.
May this marriage be a sign of compassion,
a seal of happiness here and hereafter.
May this marriage have a fair face and a good name,
an omen as welcomes the moon in a clear blue sky.
I am out of words to describe
how spirit mingles in this marriage.

Kulliyat-i-Shams, 2667

Song of Solomon 2:10-13; 8:6-7

My beloved speaks and says to me:

"Arise, my love, my fair one,

and come away;

for now the winter is past,

the rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth;

the time of singing has come,

and the voice of the turtledove

is heard in our land.

The fig tree puts forth its figs,

and the vines are in blossom;

they give forth fragrance.

Arise, my love, my fair one,

and come away.

Set me as a seal upon your heart,

as a seal upon your arm;

for love is strong as death,

passion fierce as the grave.

Its flashes are flashes of fire,

a raging flame.

Many waters cannot quench love,

neither can floods drown it.

If one offered for love

all the wealth of his house,

it would be utterly scorned.

We chose the traditional vows, because we liked the act of repeating promises that many have said before us. We chose plain, white gold wedding bands and included these words in our ceremony:

Rings are an ancient symbol, blessed and simple. Round like the sun, like the eye, like arms that embrace. Circles, for love that is given and comes back round again and again.

May these symbols remind you that your love, like the sun, illuminates; that your love, like the eye, must see clearly; and that your love, like arms that embrace, is a grace upon this world.

Sadly, I jammed the ring on Sugar Daddy's right hand instead of his left, and he didn't realize my mistake either, until we realized that the ring just. was. not. going. over. his. knuckle. We laughed after I smacked him. And our guests did too.

We also included a wine ceremony, where we each poured from a different glass into a third glass, and we each drank, because we liked the idea of a ritual that represents the joining of ourselves and our families, we liked the metaphor of the cup, and we liked the idea of eating or drinking in celebration.

As the wine and water unite in this glass, may your different characters and qualities combine to provide harmony, happiness and prosperity for your family. May the cup of your lives be sweet and full. Drink now to each other to celebrate the beginning of your life together, full of blessings.

We ended the ceremony with the Blessing of the Apaches.

Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other. Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other. Now there will be no loneliness, for each of you will be companion to the other. Now you are two persons, but there is only one life before you. May beauty surround you both in the journey ahead and through all the years, May happiness be your companion and your days together be good and long upon the earth.

I love that our ceremony included words that were both personally significant and embracing a wider community, because this is why we got married. To publicly announce and celebrate our personal love, and to formally bring our lives together.

The reception was fantastic with only about 50ish people, so it was small enough to see each guest, but big enough to have a great feast and party. We had an Indian buffet, and Chinese double happiness decorations bejewelled the walls of the old Town Hall, where the assassination scene from the Dead Zone was filmed (the town's only real claim to fame). Ishra came with the two best dancers from her troupe and we and our guests enjoyed half an hour of fantastic belly dancing. Many people jokingly complimented Sugar Daddy on combining the stag night with the wedding reception.

We took some dancing lessons from a friend before the big day, and danced a swing dance to Finley Quaye's Your Love Gets Sweeter. Unfortunately, my dress was a bit too long so I ended up stepping all over it and our dance didn't go so smoothly but we had fun, and that song was pretty sweet as a first song for a wedding. And learning to let Sugar Daddy lead was a pretty valuable (and difficult) pre-marital lesson for me.

After that our exhaustion caught up with us and we didn't last much longer. I remember a few days and weeks before the wedding we were feeling stressed out with all the planning crap. We decided we should have just eloped and not bothered with all these silly details. But the day was magical, and all the details contributed to the magic. And I think we both had the right attitude on the day, that we'd done all we could and whatever happened happened (I think it was the same attitude we had about labour and birth actually).

I remember just after the ceremony and the photos, we had a moment alone together, and even before the fun and feasting of the reception, we realized that it was all worth it.

all photos by Bob Housser

The Flaky One

I would just like to take a moment to point out that it was Beck who mentioned the whole flaky one/responsible one in each relationship (I am assuming, of course, that I am the responsible one in my relationship). So here is the kicker. Sugar Daddy discovered his citizenship card this afternoon. In his wallet. Tucked into a "hidden" pocket that he forgot existed when he looked through his wallet the other morning. The funny thing is that I almost said, "Let me look through your wallet," when we first discovered it missing. But I squashed that thought because of course he was being thorough in his search.

But I will stop dwelling on how my explosion and most of my stress of the last few days was totally unnecessary and just enjoy the relief that Sugar Daddy will at least have a valid Canadian passport for our trip.

Flashback Friday: In Sickness and In Health

Each week the Flashback Friday: Feminist Edition will feature a story that has something to do with being or becoming a woman or feminist. This series will continue until I run out of stories. I love having guest bloggers. If you have a story you want to tell and you want to be a guest blogger here, please email me; or feel free to link to your own story in the comments.

Just over a year ago, in late September when I was 5ish months pregnant (I could never really translate weeks into months), Sugar Daddy got hit by a car while riding his bike to work. Luckily, despite his lack of a helmet (never again!), he emerged from the crash unscathed. Until he kicked the car in a rage.

I can understand this rage. I once got hit by a car while I was walking. He was turning right on a red, looking down the street at the traffic coming up to the light, and I was crossing with the walk signal. He was inching forward but I kept walking, figuring he was gonna stop. I remember being confused that he wasn't stopping, and next thing I know I was on top of his hood. He finally stopped, and I got off the hood and started screaming obscenities at him. It felt like he had deliberately tried to hurt me, like it was personal.

"You fucking asshole!!!" I screamed.

"I'm so sorry... I didn't see you," he apologized.

"I should hope fucking not you didn't see me!!!" I kept screaming.

"Can I drive you to the hospital or something?" he asked.

"No! You fucking well can't!"

And I walked away. As I walked I started to sob and sob and only just stopped when I got to my destination. But I broke down again as soon as I saw another person and sobbed for another 15 minutes before I could calm down enough to get on with my day. And I was fine. My knee was a bit bruised but I was fine.

So I can understand Sugar Daddy's rage that day. And apparently he kicked the car very hard.

I didn't find out about the accident until the end of the day (I don't know why he didn't phone me), when I called him to see how his day was going and when he'd be home. He mention casually that he'd been hit by a car that morning, but he was fine. His toe hurt a bit though. I told him he wasn't riding home, so I picked him up in the car.

His toe got more and more sore that night so the next day we went to the doctor. He got x-rays and his big toe was broken in three places. But they can't do anything for broken big toes so they just gave him some tylenol-1s. Over the next day or so his toe just kept getting more and more swollen and more and more painful. Eventually Sugar Daddy couldn't sleep, couldn't sit in a chair or on the couch, couldn't crawl, couldn't walk, couldn't stand... couldn't really do anything but lie on the floor and moan like a wild animal.

We made several trips to emerge and our family doctor and every doctor had a different answer. It's gout. It's not gout. It's an infection, here are some antibiotics (that's when he developed a rash and started puking) and some Tylenol-4s (I didn't even know those existed!). But the Tylenol-4s didn't do anything except make him forget how many he'd taken so I had to confiscate the bottle and count the pills left.

I'd gone to work after that last trip to the doctor, thinking he'd be ok once he got the stronger pain meds. But he phoned me to say he'd thrown up and felt awful and the Tylenol-4s weren't working. I'd had Tylenol-3s before, which were awesome as far as I was concerned and couldn't understand how they weren't working. He mentioned that he'd taken a bunch and they still weren't working.

I panicked at this, worried about an overdose, and came home right away. But when I got home and saw him lying on the living room floor, moaning and sweating, and slightly fuzzy-headed from the pain meds, I freaked out. I ran upstairs to our bedroom, shut the door, and phoned my mom.

I felt trapped and panicky. I didn't know that wild animal in the living room and I wanted to run away. I felt like that horse in International Velvet that freaks out on the plane and has to get shot, except there was no one to put me out of my misery. I thought about our marriage vows and how it'd only been a year and here I was already wanting out. But surely there must be some kind of clause if your spouse becomes a wild animal who can't even keep track of how many pills he'd taken. I thought about the evening and night stretching endlessly ahead and wondered how I would get through it, sharing our too-small house with this feral creature. I didn't think there was any way I could get through it by myself.

Somehow, my mom calmed me down, and started making phone calls to telehealth and pharmacies to find out if Sugar Daddy was at risk of dying from that many pills. Somehow we got through the night, I went to bed and left him with strict instructions and a budget of pills, hiding the bottle in the bedside table. I don't think SD slept. I don't think he slept really at all for several days, which didn't do anything for the wild animal effect.

The next day, my mom came down and the three of us went to the family doctor. (Warning: Graphic photo coming up). This is what his foot and toe looked like by then. The swelling went all the way up to his ankle.










Finally the family doctor decided she didn't like the look of his foot (no shit Sherlock!) and referred him to an orthopedic surgeon. When he saw the surgeon, he just said, "Oh, we'll just take the toenail off and that should relieve the swelling. So he did, which SD said was an excruciating procedure but the relief was almost immediate.

And then SD turned back into his regular self, the man I married. Wounded, on crutches, and in need of help, but the man I'd known and loved for six years. Now he could stand upright with the help of his crutches, and sit in a chair, and sleep, even in our bed. I feel bad about the panic I felt, because as awful as it was for me to watch him morph into a wild animal I was afraid to go near, it was much much worse for him. Sometimes we joked afterwards that maybe that's what labour would be like, but with the shoe on the other foot (no pun intended).

And I think maybe I was also a bit like a wild animal when I was in labour. I remember moaning a lot, and it helped somehow. And I remember not really paying attention to much going on around me, except to be annoyed if people started talking during a contraction. And then being more annoyed when I told them I was having a contraction, to have them say, "What? What are you saying?" My mom said I was mumbling. Before the birth, I decided that I would just need to remind myself that every contraction brought my closer to the baby. But in the moment, I'm ashamed to say I stopped really caring about the baby. It could have been a defensive measure because he was in distress from the very beginning and I didn't know if we'd ever get to actually meet him, so maybe I was just trying to distance myself. Or maybe not.

Both those experiences taught me a lot about myself, and how I'm really not particularly self-sufficient. I need people around me, and even at nearly 30, I still call my mom when I'm scared, or in pain.