"What may be most frustrating about the rise of a particular stripe of lifestyle blog is that so few of them elicit the challenge to societal expectations of femininity one would reasonably expect in a medium so dominated by women. Forms of media that have glorified and promoted the home front as an exclusively female domain, after all, have never been in short supply, from sitcoms to shelter magazines to store catalogs. So while lifestyle bloggers can rightly claim that their “choice” (that is, their privilege) to not work outside the home, their choice to be primary parents to their children, and their excitement about rewallpapering their downstairs bathroom is just that—an individual choice. But an accumulation of such choices promotes a homogenous narrative indistinguishable from those that have come before. And no amount of glitter can freshen that up." ~ Holly Hilgenberg, "Better Homes & Bloggers"


I'm totally hooked on reading the blogs she talks about in this article but I'm not sure I buy her argument that only a certain type of people have lifestyle blogs.

I think it's more a case of success being determined by what readers want to look at and click on.

For example, I'd like to consider myself an alternative lifestyle blogger, however it just happens to be an alternative lifestyle that doesn't involve me taking cute pictures of my latest culinary creations. Mostly because I eat them too damned fast to bother and they often look like something Martha Stewart wouldn't feed her dogs.

Sure I'm a cliched blogging female Caucasian but I also work "outside the home" full-time to support my daughter and my hot stay-at-home musician husband. I have a foul mouth. I'm not terribly photogenic. I have no patience for crafts or hobbies (especially ones that involve large amounts of time, energy, supplies and an ability to follow directions). I love the idea of taking photos of the minutia of my life but rarely do because I find it distracting. I derive great pleasure from obsessing over every detail of the decor of my house but you'd likely never know it from a glance around. I like to talk about my life but not in a way that threatens my privacy or the privacy of my friends and family.

I'm super fucking authentic - just not particularly aesthetic.

"Most of the inhabitants on the island are sheep, who stay busy at their task of turning all of the grass on the island into slippery little piles of sheep shit. The adults have recently been shorn and look a little pitiful. The lambs are still small at this time of year and stay right by their mothers, whose sunken sides and full udders testify to the demands of parenthood. When a lamb wants to nurse it runs up to its ewe and head-butts her hard right in the udder, then kneels down on its front legs to suckle."  ~ Maciej Cegłowski @ Idle Words (via Kottke)


I can somehow perfectly imagine the ewe's facial expression.

Brilliant blog. Brilliant writing.

Another example: "I mentioned how the advent of steam travel made it possible to accidentaly replace an effective antiscorbutic with an ineffective one. An even starker example was the rash of cases of infantile scurvy that afflicted upper class families in the late 19th century. This outbreak was the direct result of another technological development, the pasteurization of cow's milk. The procedure made milk vastly safer for infants to drink, but also destroyed vitamin C. For poorer children, who tended to be breast-fed and quickly weaned onto adult foods, this was not an issue, but the wealthy infants fed a special diet of cooked cereals and milk were at grave risk. It took several years for infant scurvy, at first called "Barlow's disease", to be properly identified. At that point, doctors were caught between two fires. They could recommend that parents not boil their milk, and expose the children to bacterial infection, or they could insist on pasteurization at the risk of scurvy. The prevaling theory of scurvy as bacterial poisoning clouded the issue further, so that it took time to arrive at the right solution - supplementing the diet with onion juice or cooked potato." 

"At the core of it, I think, is a distrust of institutions – which for women, makes a lot of sense to me. The feminism at the heart of the homebirth movement, for example, is women being fed up with their bodies being pathologized and being told that they need all of these medical interventions to give birth. I get that. The medical establishment – and the government – has spent forever telling women they don’t know what is up with their own bodies, so it’s understandable that there’s a backlash against that. But there’s a difference between having a healthy skepticism of traditionally sexist institutions and believing that your “instinct” trumps science and established fact – which is what the anti-vaccination movement is very much about." ~ Interview with Jessica Valenti, author of "Why Have Kids?"


Based on this interview, her book is one about parenting that I might actually be interested in reading.

I miss the blissful ignorance of my first pregnancy.


I'm a night-worrier. Ever since I can remember, I do my best worrying at night. I'll wake up out of a perfectly-sound sleep and immediately commence to wasting an hour or so of precious time enjoying a barely-contained panic attack.

When I was younger, I stressed about school, not being popular, not being attractive to boys, my parents relationship, my hair. As an adult, I've mostly panicked about money. When I was a university student, I panicked about money and school. Before I got a dog, I panicked about the overwhelming sense of responsibility.

I was happily surprised when I got pregnant the first time and didn't once find myself waking up in a cold sweat. I was confident. I had a secure job, a paid maternity leave, a solid house and a great husband that I knew would make a wonderful father.

I was also ignorant.

I knew that raising a child was going to make serious demands on my personal time and space. I think I actually underestimated my ability to handle these demands. I've found myself to be a much more patient and tolerant parent than I ever imagined. I also (mostly) enjoy being a parent far more than I ever thought I would.

But now I find myself stressing about exactly how much more capacity I have for patience and tolerance.

I'm not worried that I won't be able to love this next child just as much as my first. I know that love is in infinite and renewable resource. I'm just not sure that I'll be able to maintain the relative parenting zen I've achieved when my time, attention and ability to patiently attend to the high-needs of a little person are split two ways.

I worry that I'll find myself tapped-out far quicker than I would like. I worry that I won't be able to handle the moments of frustration as gracefully; especially since I'm sure that two kids means a much higher frequency of such moments. I worry that I won't like myself as much as a mother of two.

I'm pretty confident that I'll soon find out we've made the right decision to stop at two.

Oh hello Three. Welcome!


I'm not sure why age 3 seems to be the new 2 but I see it getting a lot of hate these days.

Personally, I'm loving the hell out of 3. You rock, 3. Please continue to do so.

3 currently enjoys:

• Randomly requesting to shake hands and saying "nice ta meetcha".
• The colour purple. 3 is going to be disappointed when the new baby is not purple.
• Dancing. White girl got some killer moves put Michael Jackson to shame.
• Offering (i.e., dictating) detailed explanations and instructions to parents on a range of topics including: putting on shoes; peeling an orange; oral hygiene; proper infant care and feeding; safely crossing a street; etc.
• Being read to. All the time. Current favourites on repeat include: "Cars and Trucks and Things that Go" and "Berenstain Bears Go to School"
• Making herself "busy" by spinning in circles (see also: confusing similar words).
• Totally. Actually. Using adverbs.
• Having conversations. "Hi Mom. Thanks for coming home. How was your day? I go to playcare. Go pee on the potty. Saw Sara. Went grocery shopping."
• Belting out the lyrics to "American Pie".  
• Generally charming the hell out of everyone she meets and earning her parents a ton of (mostly undeserved) credit for raising an awesome little person.

Query: vanity plate for a proctologist or plastic surgeon?


Either way, I think we can safely say "asshole" right?



In other news, has anybody else experienced some sort of pregnancy-related, dream-based obsession with Justin Timberlake?

I don't own a copy of "What to Expect When You're Expecting" but I'm sure they must cover this in the latest edition.

No? Just me?

"Two years ago, the company I worked for up and skedaddled — that’s how you say it, right? — to Texas, for a “better business environment” than you can apparently find in California. I think that means that the CEO doesn’t have to pay state taxes and is allowed to hunt low-level employees for sport. I’ve been working as an independent contractor since — and having a good time doing it — but I haven’t been able to find private insurance. Everybody loves the small businessman, the fabled self-sufficient entrepreneur, unless he’s got a history of kidney stones and a ruptured disc and, delicately put, a “problematic height/weight ratio.” They didn’t say which way it was problematic, but I think it’s insurance industry jargon for “Tubby McLardass.”" ~ Greg Knauss, "Bugged" (via Dooce)


I'm going to print this post off and hand it to Canadians when they complain about wait times. And/or vote Conservative.

"I sit up, bolt upright, in bed, and it feels like my heart is in my throat, and I need to get out of the bed as quickly as possible, or they will kill me, and so I leap over my boyfriend, who is sleeping next to me, and land with a thud on the floor, and he wakes up and asks what the fuck I am doing. When, a few months later, we go looking for a new apartment, we rule out anything with a loft." ~ Doree Shafiri, "Can You Die From A Nightmare?" (via Kottke)


Excerpt from a really interesting article about night terrors and sleep disorders.  

My kid has had a couple of heartbreaking night terrors, thankfully nothing near as intense as the ones described in this article by the adults who suffer from them. I'm definitely praying that she outgrows them since she's got a bit of a family history with these things. One of my brothers had night terrors as a child and the other one slept-walked. And, on my husband's side, his father has been dealing with disordered sleep for years. After reading this article, I'm going to go ahead amateur-diagnosis him with REM Behaviour Disorder. And not just because I'm hoping he'll be able to get his hands on some cool drugs.

Warning: the following rant has the revolting tone of a painfully whiny pregnant lady obviously feeling the monumental weight of her White, first-world, backpack of privilege.


Nonetheless...

Dear god-in-heaven, what the FUCK is with maternity clothing?! Why am I being punished for trying to do my part by producing a future Canadian taxpayer by being made to dress like a dumpy clown-themed pinata?

Ottawa (Canada?) seems to be a particularly lovely backwater of reasonably-priced, non-ghastly maternity clothing options. It's slim pickings generally around here but heaven-forbid you should decided to procreate. You will henceforth have only TWO reasonable in-person shopping options for new items and FOUR possible sizes: pregnant anorexic gymnast, pre-pregnancy post-brunch buffet, two weeks overdue with quintuplets and 4-person tent from MEC.

That said, I want to end my rant on a positive note and give a shout-out to the awesome people at Smart Set for making pull-on "easy fit" stretch skinny pants that by some fluke-miracle are working quite nicely to accommodate a growing pregger belly/butt. Dear Smart Set, please consider expanding this collection. Much appreciated, A Knocked-Up Sid

"The health effects of another regional beverage, Pulque, which is made by fermenting agave sap, have been explored a bit. It was found that among highland tribes that consume it, it accounts for much of the iron and Vitamin C consumption in pregnant women. Pregnant women who consume too much or none are more likely to have low-BMI and reduced mental performance infants. Consumption of pulque might also increase the bioavailability of vitamins in other traditional foods." ~ Melissa McEwen at Hunt.Gather.Love


Ok, when is Guinness going to fund a similar study? Sign me up.

"Gender nonconformity is a touchy subject, and parents who celebrate it in their children can be judged harshly. When J. Crew ran an ad of its president painting her son’s toenails neon pink, with copy that read, “Lucky for me, I ended up with a boy whose favorite color is pink,” one commentator said she was exploiting her son “behind the facade of liberal, transgendered identity politics.”" ~ Ruth Padawar, "What's So Bad About a Boy Who Wants to Wear a Dress?"


This quote makes my head hurt.

Part of me believes that any time you use your kids to promote yourself or your business it's exploitation. But then I have to consider: isn't it perhaps a positive sign generally that discussing your son's gender-nonconformity might actually sell more clothes to yuppies?

I imagine that if I had a son who liked wearing dresses, I'd be happy to see a glossy magazine ad about a boy enjoying toenail polish. A sign that maybe the world wouldn't crush his self-expression quite so brutally as I would have expected.