I was complaining to Hubby last night that I have almost no more boobs. This is due partly to the post-breastfeeding phenomenon that I had been warned about, and partly due to the other breastfeeding phenomenon weight loss due to being a 24-7 milk production factory.
So I was lamenting my lack of bosom which I actually rather liked. I tell him I want to get pregnant again so that I can have my breasts back. His responds by asking the Lolo how she would like a sibling because her Mummy wants boobs, he adds: we could always call your new brother or sister Implant.
*grrrr*
Memo to self: pick next husband to be a little less silly and snarky.

I start work on Monday. Yikes.

I am sort of excited and also nervous. It feels like the first day of school. I have been back in the office several times so I sort of have a feel for the lay of land. New faces, old ones, changes, etc. I will be doing very different work this time. No more travels up to the Arctic or crazy do not "miss the boat" deadlines, which when doing Arctic construction work is quite a literal statement. Either the materials make it on the boat or no building occurs.

The babysitter will be coming in and next week will be the interesting test of whether the Lolo will be her usual cheerful self when left alone with someone other than Mummy for a whole day. She has been left alone only once and it went well. I am keeping my fingers crossed.

I plan to work from home on Tuesdays and Fridays, and to be perfectly honest, I am looking forward to those days when I will be home and not taking care of the Lolo. I have a huge list of projects that need to be completed or started (all non work related, of course). I am really hoping that my work load will be light enough at the beginning that I can do all this other stuff. So really, I am looking forward to going back to work to have some money to pay the babysitter so that I can complete my non-work related stuff.

On a completely non-related topic, we have decided to go to New Brunswick to Hubby's sister for Christmas. This means 10 1/2 hours in the car with the Lolo, who hates cars. I think we are a little insane, but we could not find Aeroplan tickets (ie free on points) and can't afford to buy plane or train tickets (over $1000). So off on an adventure we will go, as Hubby says. I point out that it will be an adventure whether we want it to be or not. Earplugs will be required.

Hubby has added the nickname "Crocadilla" to the Lolo repertoire. He thinks her new teeth are rather amusing; being the one still breastfeeding her, I have a slightly more painful view on the subject and "Saber-tooth Lolo" seems more appropriate. Must wean NOW.

Step-kids lack a sense of humour.

Hubby & YSD are convinced that the Lolo is going to become Calvin (of Calvin & Hobbes). Hubby has taken to calling her Calvina. They sit and read the comics before going to bed and worry that the Lolo is getting inspired.
YSD: I really feel sorry for whoever is going to babysit Lolo when she gets older.
Hubby: You should since it's going to be YOU!
YSD: That's not nice!
Me: *snicker*

While picking up the kids from school, a friend, who is also collecting her kids, comments on how smiley the Lolo is. And she really is, almost always, except at nap time.
Me: Someone up there saw that I had 3 step-kids and decided to send me a good natured baby.
Friend: You would need it.
ESD: That's not nice!
Friend and me: *snicker*

This morning, the kitchen was left in a complete mess despite there being room in the dishwasher to put dishes, etc. I took photos and plan the following the speech.
Me: For every morning I have to wake up and deal with your mess, you lose a request. For example: D can I get a lift? Answer: No.
Predicted response from the step-kids: That's not nice!

( YSD got an invitation today that I found so insane that I am going to photograph it and post it for your viewing. )

I am still determined to get the Lolo to say Mama - this morning all we achieved was Baba (which is Dada in Arabic) so I feel that no progress has been made. I have a feeling that she is going to go through all the Daddy names in every language before she says Mama.

Here are the reactions I am getting to my plight:

1. Hubby thinks it is hugely funny; although after being given a few death glares, he will tell the Lolo to be nice to her Mummy because "she's the only one you've got".

2. YSD encourages all the Dada's she can : You're a Daddy's girl just like me. You love your Daddy. Say Dada.
The Lolo is more than happy to acquiesce and the two dance around the house singing DA DA DA DA.

3. A friend, thinking I would get some sympathy from her, says : Well at least you are still the Boob, with my daughter, when Daddy is around, it is as if I don't exist!

*sigh sigh sigh* *soupir soupir soupir*

I would be tempted to ask: where did I go wrong? But I suspect that millions of years of evolutionary biology are working against me, and as my uncle said, men were smart, they picked their names to be what babies were likely to say first.

Step-son and youngest step-daughter are complaining about classmates : so and so is annoying, so and so is really dumb, so and so is weird...
Hubby, recognizing all the last names being thrown about, comments: Well, they are lawyers' kids, and you know how they say that lawyers' kids turn out strange ... [pause *kiddie death glares*]... well maybe not all of them, concludes Hubby, the lawyer.
Me *snicker*

I have enough kids in the household and really do not need another. I am, however, given up hope on Hubby not being permanently lumped in with the kiddies.

Take this morning.

I have to preface this by saying that Hubby is a man, and by this, I do not mean that he is a manly manly man, but that he is male and like most (all) men is capable of concentrating on ONE thing at a time. This morning, he was running late. He had to be in Ottawa at 9 am, it was 7am and it takes a good 2 hours to get from Montreal to Ottawa. Being late, he, of course, rushes, and in rushing, he ends up taking more time then if he did things calmly and LISTENED to his wife.

I am lying in bed (because it is 7 am and the Lolo is sleeping next to me).

Enter naked freshly showered hubby: I'm late (rummage, rummage, grumble, grumble).
Wife: What are you looking for?
Hubby: Underwear... I'll go find a dirty pair in the wash.
Sensible wife: (eww) Have you checked the dryer? (suspecting that as usual he did not hear me)
Hubby: (no response - exits heads for laundry closet - much more rummaging to be heard)
Hubby returns still naked and looks through a suitcase on the floor.
Sensible and patient wife: There are underwear in the dryer. (thinks to herself - hmmm, did not find any dirty underwear in the wash bin, did he not think why?)
Hubby exits, finds underwear and is now off for his next quest.

Hubby: Do you have any cash?
Sensible and patient wife: There are 25$ in my wallet. My wallet is in the back of the stroller that is in the front hall. (thinks to herself - again he did not hear the last bit)
Hubby runs downstairs - rummage, rummage...
Hubby: Where did you say your wallet was?
Sensible and patient and saintly wife: In the stroller...
Hubby: (interrupting) Where IS the stroller?
Sensible and patient and saintly and miraculously still calm wife: IN the front hall.

I did not roll my eyes ONCE. This is because of sad fact that I knew this was going to happen. If he had asked and listened to the answers, he would have saved himself loads of time.

If anybody asks, how many kids I have, today the answer is five.

(Although, I will admit there is something quite appealing to the sight of hubby running around naked looking for his underwear.)

Oh well, a mere hours after I posted the last entry, I was up puking all night with a gastro. 48 hours no food except for a bit a bread and pedialite, I ate a little supper tonight.
Needless to say, I cancelled the nanny (I did not want her to get sick) and I did nothing all day, which considering my energy levels was about all I could manage...

Hubby in Toronto (boo hoo) expecially since he was supposed to go tomorrow and fly back the same day. He decided to go tonight so that he could actually get a good night's sleep! He does feel a little guilty at least.

Lolo will be 1 year old tomorrow!!!
Time does fly - I haven't really planned much of a celebration. Hubby made cookies for me to bring to the Mother Goose program and I did buy presents. It'll just be the 6 of us (which for a baby is quite enough).

I have been on a high since I last posted. That little bit of work I got done when the nanny was here was followed by a couple more little bits of work, and my mood has been incredibly (annoyingly perhaps tp the rest of the family) upbeat. I have finally gotten my creativity started again, and it feels like a profound renewal of my whole being is taking place.

I worked on the house plans of a friend of mine (I have been promising them for ages) and I am rather pleased with the results. AND I finally figured out how to add a second bathroom to our upstairs - a master's suite. This will, of course, be done when we win the lottery, but nonetheless, I already picture it in it's full glory and am fine tuning it for the fateful day when it will get done.

Hubby is rather amused by my chipper-ness and in typical Hubby fashion comments: You are just happy because you figured out a way to pee in our bedroom.

Somehow the glorious-ness of my triumph over a rather difficult design problem and the greatness of my solution (if I may say so myself) is now reduced to having found a way to pee in our bedroom. My creativity will NOT be stifled. I must now work on my Christmas cards. Fortunatly, nanny comes on Monday for a few hours.

Other creative attempts and Hubby comments:
The youngest of my step-kids, aged 12, is learning how to play the tenor clarinet (not her choice). It is a rather huge instrument which in theory can make a nice sound, but at the moment is rather painful to listen to. She is trying quite hard, so I have no doubt that her perseverance will pay off. The Lolo seems to like her playing enough to echo whatever noise the instrument makes. It is really funny to see the baby sitting there imitating an instrument twice her size. Hubby, in his brilliancy, comments again that when Lolo decides to be a vet specializing in sick hippos, we will know when the inspiration was planted.

Forunetly, we all rather love his silliness and as he points out on a regular basis, I should have caught on before I married him. Now it is too late!