Dear Family & Friends-

I write on Beta's behalf. She asked that I write a posting to let you know that she has had an accident, is in the hospital, and, thankfully, is already on the mend.

I have started a separate blog where you can find out more and follow along with her recovery.
http://www.getbetterbeta.blogspot.com/

You are also welcome to join our Facebook group- Get Better Beta!!!- to show some extra support. We are already over 100+ strong!

Don't worry... Beta will make a full recovery. She remains positive as always. Please do be patient with regard to this blog as it will take her some time to get back to it.

All the best-
Christina

what to do... what to do

I just got in from work and my kids are not here. The house is empty and eerily quiet for 4 o'clock in the afternoon. It's odd. For a brief moment I found myself at a loss of what to do... Yup. That's what happens when you're used to having four arms flailing and four legs dashing towards you every time you come through the front door. The reason I decided to write a little note here, I must admit, was the inspiration of a book I've been listening to on my i-pod as I take the subway ride home from work called "Still Life with Children". It's funny and very "my life" right now. I find that coming home from work and reading most books (I'm speaking of fiction, here) on the ride often puts me in a dreamy head space, and switching from that to the intensity of having to cook dinner, hold Stella, answer all of Kaspar's questions, check phone messages and emails and get the kids bath ready and so on... it can be a little like shock therapy. However - this book puts me right in the head space for home and with a good dose of humor at that. If you have little kids - you should read it. If you're a grandparent you should read it to remind yourself of what it used to be like. If you're about to have kids - definitely read it. If you never plan to have kids - read it to laugh with and at all the friends who do have kids. I plan to buy myself a copy just to keep for the days when I want to cry out of frustration. At the very least, it should put a smile on your face!

My kids are at the airport seeing Steve off to another European tour and it seems to be taking longer then I had anticipated. Or maybe I rushed home from work a little too soon? It's been a crazy month with one flu following another and all four of us, in tandem, feeling bad and very bad and even worse from one day to the next, but I think as of yesterday I can say that we're all back on our feet.

In the mean time we have managed to accomplish a few milestones personally and work wise and around the house. To list just a few - the kids seemed to have had a growth spurt, Stella has learned to feed herself, Kaspar has learned to write most of the letters of the alphabet, Steve and I have learned to switch operating systems from PC to MAC like a pair of pro's, I have closed books for 2008 at work (this is a big one for me!), Elliott Brood has been nominated for two Juno's and we have bought a new washing machine (it's still pending delivery, but I have a feeling I will be just as happy as I am with our new (used) i-mac). Life is good! Except for the part where Steve leaves for tour. But should be good by the end of the week, when my mom arrives to take on Stella and Kaspar during the days. Phew! But now, I better make some dinner and get ready to receive my pair of plane watchers home!

the dreaded flu

Oh yeah. We got the dreadful stomach flu! Was it, as Kaspar would like to clarify, because of him eating snow with pollsion (he means pollution, of course) in the snow? Probably not. But he was sure the first to go down. It started as quite a surprise. He came in to our room in the middle of the night and said "I threw up." Just like that. And because he's the dreamer and has the wildest of imaginations, especially at night, I have to admit that I thought to myself "Yeah right!" However, going back to his room, I discovered that he really had chucked his cookies, as they like to say. That was the turning point of our week, last week.

That first night I hardly slept and by the morning totally lost count of how many times he threw up. It was many. A lot more then 12. I know I stopped counting at 12. As the clock struck seven, I got up to a pile, the size of our back yard snow bank, of clothes and bed sheets and pillows to be washed and yet ... I had to make it to work by 10am and actually be able to function and calculate year end totals and reconcile accounts. In times like this being a parent forces you to do the seemingly impossible. By the end of the day exhausted and weary, both Steve and I sat down to dinner, with Kaspar in bed in the next room and hoped that the 24 h had passed and the vomiting should have passed by now. But to our surprise it started full force all over again. We packed both kids in the car and went down to St. Joseph's hospital to their kids walk in clinic. It was about 8pm and upon my arrival the nurse literally rolled her eyes and said "It's about a two and a half hour wait..." and waited for my answer. Well. I'm no fool. I'm not going to put a three year old through a two hour wait at 8pm with a large metal bowl in his lap, just waiting for the next time his stomach will give the signal. Fortunately enough I know something that very few know in our fine city. There is an after hours clinic at St. Joseph's hospital that is hardly used. The few times I've been there I've only had to wait for 10 or 20 minutes before I get to see a doctor. We walked through the hospital and down a flight of stairs and found ourselves in the hands of a very nice young female doctor in no time at all. (I admit, I was tempted to go upstairs and tell all the other parents - follow me! I don't know why the kids clinic does not give parents at least the option of going down the stairs ... but it's probably some sort of inside politics.) Anyhow, after a few shots of electrolytes from a strange looking blue plastic bottle Kaspar began to feel better and stopped throwing up. We were supposed to have a whole lot more of the "electric lights" over the course of the night, but Kaspar pretty much refuses to drink the stuff. It has taken him two days to recover since the night at the hospital, but he is sure on his way to feeling much better and had begun to eat.

Of course, as Murphy would have it, Stella and Steve got sick the night that Kaspar began feeling better. These two are going through the same thing that Kaspar went through only add diarrhea to the pot. Absolutely unbelievable! I continue to work and do laundry and eat on my own, because it seems like I'm the only person eating in this household for now. I'm hoping this won't last much longer. And I'm so glad it's the week-end... Happy Saturday all around!

out with the old and in with the new ?

Oh boy! December came and went. I don't know where it went. I've been trying to catch a breath and I still cannot figure out how time can fly so fast. I have an inbox full of mail. I have a pile of laundry waiting to be done (well, if I were to be honest that's been the case for months now). I have a list of orders that are late, as usual. I've got phone messages that have not been answered and mail unopened ... perhaps the only thing that's up to date are bills and that's only because I know that not taking care of those in time can cause more grief then I can handle at given moment. But today I'm taking time to do some stuff. Finally.



Stella is coming into her own these days. She has figured out not only how to push Kaspar back, when he does not let her play, but also how to frown when she does not want something; how to fall on the ground in hysteria, when someone takes her toy away; how to open doors of all sorts; how to open the lid of the toilet and go fishing; how to make an angry face, when she does not want to pose for a picture (as you can see in the attached image); how to pull her shoes off and then have a fit about not being able to put them back on herself; how to crush grapes on her mother's head; how to bite, when she's not getting my attention; how to pick her nose with both hands; how to sound convincing even if she cannot manage to say a whole word; how to pull her mittens off no matter what the weather is like; how to kiss (drooling and with her mouth open!); eat snow and paper amongst a slew of other more edible items; drink from a glass; hold a spoon; pick all the seeds out of a watermelon slice (by the end of it the slice is mush, of course); point at things she wants; Alright, that's it. I'm getting bored with this list. It's good enough for now. I'm learning from my kids to have the attention span of a three year old or younger.

certifiable

It's one of those nights, when waiting for a polisher to stop tumbling in just another ten minutes seems like an impossible task. Even though it's only 1 am, I'm so tired I could fall asleep standing. I've had about three nights of 3-4h of sleep followed by intensive three hour mornings with the kids - making and eating breakfast, making lunch, prepping dinner stuff, bottles, getting ready for work... that kind of a thing. Then 9am-4pm - work. After... get home, make dinner, do bath, books, bed, laundry, dishes and begin my usual studio hour shortly after 9pm and work as late as my brain and body can handle. Usually it's till about 2am or 2:30am. Then a few hours of interrupted sleep and a wake up call around 5:45 or just after by a cheery, bushy tailed and bright eyed Stella. My studio sale is this week-end and so is Kaspar's Christmas pageant. What a week-end! Sunday night my awesome "manny" (male nanny) of the last six weeks leaves and I'm left to make do for three days with friends and fellow locals to take care of the kids while I'm at work. I cannot wait till all this is over and I can breathe again. I better go and sleep now. After this week-end I might attempt to find my camera cord and plug that thing in and post some pictures, too. Right now it's too hard to even think about that! Good night.

what happened to blogging?

Well. I'll give you three guesses. No! It has nothing to do with the picture above. The gorgeous little fellow in the above picture is Max (Maksimillians) my sister's baby boy born just a few days ago. But his birth has nothing to do with my lack of blogging. I just had to brag and let you all know that I have a gorgeous little nephew and I'm proud to be an aunt and he was born on MY name day! Talk about an awesome gift! As a matter of fact, the world of blogging had to be put on hold while I get acquainted with full time work once again and a new babysitter and in general a whole new situation here at home. It's been an adjustment! Let's just leave it at that. Or else I might start spilling my guts and not be able to stop. Ha, ha!

In the mean time, over the course of the last four weeks a lot has changed. Stella has now six teeth (seven and eight about to cut through, any day now) and is beginning to talk. I mean - she's serious about talking, even if I do not understand a single word of it. I'm sure she's using words, though. I'm sure she knows what she's talking about. You can tell from her expression that she's not just mumbling sounds - she's talking.

Last week Stella also began walking. The first three steps in a row she took a couple of months ago, but last week she began walking and knowing that she's walking. Last Sunday, in fact, we were having dinner with some friends and she stood up, took about four little steps and looked at everyone and grinned and then squealed... It was very cute. Almost as if she was saying: "Everyone, did you see that? I did it! I can do it!" From that day on she has been walking more and more every day. She gets into the "downward dog" like yoga position and slowly lifts herself off the ground, (stands up in a way that I could never manage) balances herself for a few seconds and then dashes forward, two, three, four... sometimes five or six steps before she falls forward, always catching herself on the palms of her hands, with her bum up in the air. Sometimes, if the "walk" has been fast enough and the momentum is still going she manages to fall right on her forehead, because her head still seems to be heavier then her bum. But she never complains, just gets back down on all fours and continues to her destination crawling. If she feels extra strong, she sometimes gets back up on her feet and walks...

Well, I better just cut myself off. I have to make it to work before 10am. Ciao. I hope to write more, soon.

not so proud

Well. I have to admit that every time I give into the temptation I feel bad. So, no! I'm not proud to admit this.... and... this comes from a mother who is proud to watch her kid's blank face at shcool, when most of the other kids hoo, humm and haaaa at the word "McDonald's". Indeed, only a week ago I asked Kaspar if he knew what McDonald was and he responded "Maybe... it's a truck driver? What do you think, mommy?" But we do have a Pizza Pizza in the neighbourhood and Kaspar must take after me, because he loves pizza, chips, french fries, sausage, salami and pretty much anything savory and salty. So, today after spending over an hour running errands with Stella and Kaspar in tow I resigned to having lunch at PizzaPizza. I was pleasantly surprised by their Thai Chicken slice myself and Kaspar had just the best time picking the pepperoni off his own slice. But the most surprising thing was a large flat screen TV in the corner of the shop (which I admit, I had not noticed before) and as we were waiting for our order it was showing a channel called PizzaTV and I felt like I was having a total breakdown, because the first thing I noticed them showing was Elliott Brood's video called "The Bridge". At first I thought - I must be seeing things! Is that what happens when your hubby goes on the road for weeks at a time? Then it dawned on me... no, this is for real. And I thought - Oh shoot, the artist must have needed cash pretty bad to sell the same cartoon to PizzaPizza. But it turned out to be the real Elliott Brood video with the name and caption at the end and everything legitimate, even the Six Shooter logo and name appearing as their label. So, I worry for no reason one again. But it really is weird walking into a PizzaPizza and watching an Elliott Brood video with no sound as I'm placing my order. Weird. I just do not get it.

let me tell you

Let me begin by telling you the story about Al. He lives two doors down from us. He's a really nice fellow in his fifties, who lives alone and is always ready to lend a helping hand. He loves his leaf blower and his beer. Al has always put up the most extreme Christmas decorations on his huge tree in the front yard. But we wait to see what will happen this year, because the tree was just cut down a week ago. The city deemed it too old and sick to leave standing. Sadly. But that's another story. Al is tall and skinny and sports what I could describe as the Kim Mitchell look. You know, the long thin hair, the trucker's cap (with mesh in the back and in some hideous colour), aviator's glasses, a well worn t-shirt, old leather jacket or windbreaker, jeans... you get the picture? A few days ago I decided that it was time to give Kaspar a hair cut. His hair had grown long enough to pull into a mini pony tail and was bothering his vision in the front. What did he reply? "No! I want to grow my hair like Al's!!!" Who was I to argue? He knew what he wanted. We had to come to some sort of a compromise. So, Kaspar ended up with a mullet. I think the "mullet" style runs in his blood. His dad had a mullet for years, after all.

lost

This morning I found myself in one of those situations, where you begin questioning your own sanity.

It was a relatively calm morning. Kaspar was once again playing garbage man and unloading ALL of his toys onto his bed (the garbage truck). Stella was happily playing with the zipper of my purse. All doors and safety latches were done up and closed. So, I decided that it was safe for me to lock myself in the bathroom for about three minutes to do the things that people do in bathrooms on their own. Sometimes I don't have the luxury of privacy in my bathroom... but this morning I thought I'd take the chance while everyone was calm and happy.

Upon reentering the bedroom I realized that Stella had managed to get into my zipped up purse and pull out everything onto the floor. So what! A few ripped bills? A destroyed lipstick. Nothing worth worrying about. The day goes on.... until.... I pack the kids up and get ready to go to the store. And I cannot find my wallet.

I search. I tear the house apart. I get the kids dressed and undresses several times. I go back and forth between the house and the garage several times. In the end I tell myself that I'm 99.99% sure that it was in my purse. Back to the indoors. I rearrange the entire bedroom. Go through clean and dirty laundry. Go through everything that Stella might have gotten into. I start to feel like I'm going crazy. Nothing. Two hours pass. Nothing. Three hours. I'm still searching. In the middle of it all, the phone rings. A very apologetic voice on the other end asks for me. It's or RESP fund manager calling and being very sorry about disturbing me on a Sunday. I'm so frustrated I want to yell at her. I take a deep breath, take a break from searching and try to deal with whatever is about to come my way. I'm already expecting some tragedy, but She's only asking me to check my son's birth certificate, because of some mistake SHE has made on the application. Thank goodness that's all! So, I'm opening the "filing cabinet" which is really just a cardboard filing box under the desk in the bedroom... and yes... my wallet is right there! Sitting amongst the first few files. Nice and neat.

I yelled so loud that she must have thought I was nuts. I felt so happy about her calling that I almost invited her for dinner and called her an angel. She definitely thought I was nuts! I even made her listen to my entire sob story about my wallet and shed a few tears of joy while telling it. Madness!

Stella must have managed to pull out my wallet, go through everything else in the purse as well as stuff the wallet through the banker's box handle hole into the box, all within minutes of leaving her alone in the room. How is that possible? And the hole is only an inch bigger then the wallet.

I don't get it!

tais vecos labos laikos

"Tais vecos laikos, es reiz spēlēju hokeju!"

Last night my three year old sits down next to me, sighs a deep sigh and tells me: "Back in the good old days I played hockey." I sit there, perplexed. Even though he's telling me this in perfect Latvian, it sounds so ancient. So old and wise. Especially coming from a three year old kid. It almost cracks a smile on my face. But I cannot laugh. He's being totally serious. I'm pretty sure I know this phrase does not come from a movie or a book. I hardly have any books on hockey in Latvian. I have to admit, I don't even know what he's trying to tell me. With all seriousness, I begin to quiz him. And after a while the meaning dawns on me. He remembers last winter, playing hockey, skating and watching the hockey players in the park. But last winter to a three year old is like "good old days" to a seventy five year old, I guess. The things you learn being a parent. But, I still have not figured out where he came up with such a wise old way of wording it.