Nausea

I just got back from a 5-day trip to Toronto to attend this summit. It's been 5 or so years since I was last there, long before Alicia and Hadley. Long before I missed anyone this much.
It's the greatest length of time I've ever spent away from my own daughter.
I had thought I could do it and that I would have more than enough to occupy me while gone. Alicia finds it difficult to be away from Hadley for any period but up to now I hadn't missed her so much that my stomach hurt. This time changed everything.
I don't mean to be melodramatic.
OK, so maybe I do.
I was pretty much attacked throughout my trip with these bouts of emotional pain, the kind that reminded me of when I was 18 and couldn't bear to be away from a certain girl. What made it all the harder was that I kept being exposed to other children: at the conference, at Shalini's house, and just random kids on the subway.
Do you know this feeling? I just wanted to reach out and cuddle these random toddlers. I missed, at a deep and visceral level, the physical bond I have with my daughter. I ached. I was miserable.
It didn't help that I was reading this book on attachment parenting the whole time. In it, the authors stress the unique link between parents and children, that doesn't really exist anywhere else in life. Tell me about it, I thought.
Next time, I'm bringing the family with me.

I'm gonna ger you, Papa!

Hadley can make me laugh like nobody else can. Real, gut-busting, teary-eyed, raw throat laughing. These are the kinds of guffaws that have come not often enough in life: with buddies in my teenage years, some childhood friends, mostly with my mom when I was a young 'un.

For a while now, we've known that Hadley is hella ticklish. Under her neck, on her legs, wherever. We can make her scream with glee and she keeps coming back for more. But it's when she turns on me that I totally lose it. Not always, mind you. But once in a while she corners me and attacks all my tickle spots at the same time. Then I erupt into squeals, which makes her want to keep doing it more and more.

Last night she figured the best way to get back at me was to lick my face until I pissed myself laughing. My neck, my forehead, none of it was off-limits. I laughed so hard my belly hurt, which got her laughing, in turn causing me to laugh more, etc.

It's in these moments I feel this real connection of visceral understanding between us. Sound corny? What I mean is that we can provoke a very deep response in the other person without using words. We know eachother's "buttons". This is a parent-child thing, I'm convinced. I remember this feeling with my parents when I was small, and Hadley will probably remember these moments later on, in vague and thick ways.

To sum up, my daughter is awesome.

Wynken, Blynken and Nod

I just got a CD for Hadley that I had as a kid in record form.

It's called In Harmony, a Sesame Street compilation from the late 70s with James Taylor, the Doobie Brothers, Bette Midler, Dr. John and a bunch of other corny music. Thing is, I love it!

And because I've told Hadley that it's hers, she likes it too. She calls it her 'sharing music' because there's a song with Ernie & Cookie Monster about sharing. Kind of an 80s reggae thing.

Anyhow, awesome. Anyone who wants a copy just let me know and I'll burn it.

I'm trying to find the sequel - with Billy Joel and Bruce Springsteen - but it hasn't been re-released.

Inheriting a love of food

Something about having a baby has turned me into a kitchen maniac. It started when Alicia got pregnant 3 years ago and we moved in together. She was holed up in the upstairs rooms of our shared house and so I opted to cook all the food. Since then my obsession has evolved into pretty much cooking 99% percent of our meals and trying new recipes all the time and just getting really damn excited about food.
Those who knew me as an early bachelor know that this wasn't always the case. When I first lived on my own - in Hungary and then later in Sandy Hill - I had exactly 2 recipes under my belt. The first was spaghetti and the second was pizza. Both contained absurd amounts of onions and chili and not much else, aside from tomatoes. I ate out constantly but also relied on more creative roommates to provide meals.
I bring this up because I think that there are two factors driving me to want to be in the kitchen all day (this is not a joke, I can putter around the 10X10 room literally ALL day): (1) this impetus for being the 'provider' that I think infects many 2nd parents and (2) wanting to learn and explore and create. I've started trying to involve Hadley in some kitchen stuff but it's not easy at this age. She helps me make muffins by throwing the batter everywhere and she helps me take the seeds out of squash.
My mom - and dad, too - were all about the kitchen. I grew up surrounded by all sorts of interesting food and a love of cooking and baking. My mom tried to get me helping out in the kitchen as often as possible and I remember those days fondly. But what happened when I turned 18 and moved out? I guess I was lazy. Will the same thing happen to Hadley?

Over this past weekend we baked 2 loaves of bread and made chili, beet salad, coconut pumpkin curry, garden salad and mushroom soup. Not to mention 5 pots of coffee and endless cups of tea.

Dina Tune and more

The Little Boss is really coming into her own.
I won't deny that in my life I have been known as someone who manipulates the stereo, no matter the social circumstance. Is this an inherited trait? Hadley now rules the music of the house, in a micro-managing kind of way.

At first she would insist on the artist we listen to: Raffi ("Waffi", French Lady "Fench", African CD, Scary Robot Children, etc. So unlike the old days - by which I mean a few months ago - we can't just say, "hey Hadley, here's a Sharon Lois and Bram album: enjoy". Instead she gets to pick.
Then she started to narrow down the album. In the case of Raffi, she was really focussed on the first album, which she identified by the song near the end about working on the railroad all the livelong day. She called this one "Dina Tune" because at point Raffi cries "Dina!" and Hadley used to love that. The French Lady CDs were divided by colour of the CD itself: yellow, green and red.

But nowadays she decides on individual songs and makes us switch CDs back and forth. So She'll want the "SleepyTime" French song about animals sleeping in the jungle, then she'll want Down by the Bay by Raffi, next she'll want Elmo's Song on the Sesame Street CD, etc. And she gets really irate if we take too long or try and placate her with only one album at a time. This is unacceptable in her eyes. Of course, in today's futureland of musicmaking I could probably just burn all her favourite songs onto one CD and be done with it.

Hadley also associates different songs with different dances, so she'll opt for a 'jumping' song or 'sleepy' song, depending on her mood and dancing spirit.

Educational or just a pain in the ass?

Yesterday at work a colleague explained to us that his son, at 8 months, had finally taken the bottle. I was immediately drawn in; why is someone giving their 8-month old a bottle?, I wondered. So I asked him, realising immediately that my tone was subtley judgmental. Indeed it was and I regret it. His answer was that their son had been unwilling to drink formula but was now drinking milk, a relief to them. Aware that I was on dangerous, nosey ground, I pressed on: why were you giving him formula? Because he was slightly underweight.
Slightly underweight? I really wanted to pipe up. Breastmilk is all a baby needs! Underweight is a matter of opinion! Formula is just a sugary drink pushed on the medical system by a powerful pharmaceutical lobby! But I said none of those things and stuck to, Hadley was also underweight briefly and now look at her.
And here's where I start to doubt myself. Two days ago I posted my interest in writing a book. The response to that post (not here but on a link I uploaded to my Facebook page) was so varied and skeptical that I have to rethink my plans. Of course not everyone is interested in Attachment parenting. How to talk about my experience as a father without sounding prescriptive and condescending? Maybe I should research more books first.
No, Hadley was never given formula, though a nurse at the hospital tried to peddle it to us. It is a Health Canada policy and position that breastfeeding is THE way to feed infants, up to the age of 3 or more. Formula is not to be encouraged by any health care professional unless the child is severely undernourished. We were lucky; Hadley took to the breast pretty quickly and Alicia produced milk almost right away. Since then, to be sure, Hadley has never stopped wanting to nurse but all children choose to stop at some point. A friend, whose son is a could years older than Hadley, recently told me she was getting worried when he was nursing past his 3rd birthday. Will it ever end? Maybe he's the exception to the rule, she thought. But no, he one day stopped. Their relationship changed, of course, and this is a big part of it, too. Nursing can be exhausting, painful and inconvenient, but it a bond like no other. Mom and child are reluctant to dismiss that early on.
I couldn't just launch into this diatribe at work, though. He didn't seem interested in my opinion and advice. Yet something in me feels it's important to provide supportive education to new parents. I know I needed it and still do. I just wish I could do it without sounding like a jackass.

a typical autumn evening

It's been so great hanging out with Hadley lately. Not that I didn't enjoy her company before but these days we really whoop it up.
Last night when I came home from work, she was in the midst of a whine-fit and was giving her Amma - Alicia's mom - a rough go of it. But as soon as I walked in she smiled and we gave each other that look which meant, 'tonight's gonna be awesome!'. Veggie burgers (her favourite, pronounced 'veggie buddha') and yummy fresh potatoes out of the garden. Rolling around on the living room floor, tickling and giggling. Trying on new outfits and then trying to dress the cat up. These are our evenings.
Then Hadley spotted Walter, our neighbour, in his front yard and desperately wanted to visit him. We put on our sweaters and ran to greet him. Uma was there, too, Walter's 6-year old daughter and Hadley's idol. And that was pretty much the evening made for us. Hadley and Uma played for another couple of hours until Hadley was too exhausted to stand.
The end.