I know I’m singing an old tune here, but man, am I tired. Things were cruising along quite well up until a few weeks ago, when I caught The Cold, the one that everyone has, the one that will not die, even after two weeks of coughing. And since I was already getting up a couple of times a night to reapply the Vicks and pop a Halls, I figured what the hell, let’s take away the Wee One’s chair.

I’ve been meaning for a while to write a book, or at least a detailed pamphlet, describing all the things that maternity and baby books don’t tell you. The books cover about 99% of the things you need to know as a new mom, but it’s that last 1% that will really freak you out. Like how your first post-delivery poop will be one of the most traumatic things you’ll live through. And how the IV required if you have an epidural will give you elephant-like ankles for two weeks afterwards. And about how newborn babies sleep better in a chair.

It’s a great secret never mentioned in the baby books, but if your newborn baby is having trouble sleeping, a chair — like their infant car seat — is the way to go. It’s a small space, which makes them feel cocooned and safe and warm. It’s upright, so if they are having some problems with gas bubbles, they can easily float out, instead of getting trapped, causing pain and crying. And if they happen to contract a cold, being on an upward angle will help them breathe easier. All of which will help them sleep better.

A friend of ours gave us the chair advice when we were having serious trouble getting more than an hour’s sleep at a time overnight with the Captain when he was about six weeks old, and it was one of the best pieces of advice ever, restoring sanity and joy to our little family. With Gal Smiley, we slept her in her chair about half the time for the first few weeks. With the Wee One, we didn’t mess around — it was all chair, all the time, day and night. We were rewarded, too — she slept through the night, I’m talking 11 or 12 hours, by six weeks old; she put herself to sleep for naps and napped happily for hours at a time every day.

So it was with great trepidation and sadness that we retired the chair about two weeks ago. The Wee One was developing a bit of a cone head from being in the chair so much (the only side effect, our doctor assures us, and it clears up quickly once you have them sleeping flat), so it was time to embrace a normal sleeping position. And as expected, the sleep has been a little rougher lately. Instead of sleeping through the night, she’s getting up at least twice, sometimes three times to eat; naps have been completely erratic, ranging from 20 to 40 minutes at the most. I expected as much, but with the ongoing cold and the chair issues, sleep has been pretty hard to come by around here. It’ll sort itself out, but in the meantime, we’re in for a month or so of bleary eyes and waking up already tired.

But the toilet training is going pretty well. Assuming I can stay awake long enough to pursue it!

Used to be, when we wanted to talk about something without the kids understanding, we’d spell. But lately, the Captain has gotten so good at spelling that he can still guess at what top secret thing we’re talking about. So has started to use a kind of pigdin French of his own invention as his new code.

For example, here he is asking me about a gold-coloured Thomas train he found in my underwear drawer:

“Est-ce vous connais que… il y a un train d’or dans… le dresseur?”

And here I am, letting him know that it’s for the Captain’s Christmas stocking:

“Oui, il est pour Noel, pour… le chausette… giant.”

Then we giggled. said recently that after the Captain starts French immersion next year, he’ll be able to understand us again, and we’ll have to come up with a new code. And I said that I really don’t think he’ll be able to understand Monkey French anyway, and we can go right ahead and keep using it!

30 Rock was so hilarious on Thursday.

Tracy Jordan, explaining why he must go to a strip club:

“You can’t ask a bird not to fly! You can’t ask a fish not to swim! You can’t ask a tiger not to change back into some Chinese dude at midnight!”

Sir Monkeypants bought a new scale a couple of weeks ago. I was quite sentimentally attached to our old scale, which I bought back in university when I finally got around to taking off that Freshman 15 in my senior year. The old scale was a very nice scale, in that it always weighed 4 or 5 pounds on the light side, and was even more generous when the battery was close to dying. It allowed me to live in a world where I was just a wee bit skinnier than I really was.

Now we have this fancy new contraption, and it not only weighs accurately — to one decimal point even, so you can see the immediate effect of having a haircut — but it also has a fat percentage calculator. Whereas our old scale would have gently suggested that my most recent pregnancy has left me pleasantly plump, the two stats from the new scale have screamed that I have moved well into the range of obese. Obese, by the way, is such an ugly word. I’d like to start a movement to hijack a nicer word from the dictionary to take its place, like, say…daisy. My scale says I’m a little on the daisy side today. My period comes next week, and I’m so daisy! I’ve gained a few pounds, oops-a-daisy! See, it works.

Anyway, my past pregnancies have resulted in several years of up and down weight levels, and I have a huge range of pants here, starting at size 6 and going all the way up to size 16. Sadly, I’m currently at the top of the range, and I just have the one pair of size 16 pants, purchased back when I was 4 months pregnant with the Captain and looking for something to bridge the gap between my usual wardrobe and maternity wear. Now they’re the only thing I can squeeze into (because I already gave away all my maternity pants, because I am NOT PREGNANT, and refuse to wear them ever again). And these pants, they are, shall we say, not the most attractive things in the world. But I must wear them every day.

Sir Monkeypants wants me to go the mall and get some pants. But that would mean a) shopping for clothes, which I totally, totally hate, and b) admitting that I am a size 16 and unlikely to be getting smaller any time soon. I thought, instead, I’d start a killer new diet and start going to the gym. Then, reality kicked in, and I realized that Sir Monkeypants is going back to work in — DEAR GOD — less than two weeks, and I’ll be alone with three kids, one of whom needs to be nursed, which makes me extra hungry, and one of whom needs to be toilet trained, which makes me extra cranky. And I’m thinking, the month in which Sir Monkeypants goes back to work, and I’ve committed to blogging every day, is probably not the best time to be starting a crash diet.

So I guess there’s no way around it…I’ll have to hit the mall. Bother!

I just love our street. I know it’s not cool to live out in the ‘burbs, and urban sprawl, and all that. But man, our neighbourhood and our street in particular is just totally awesome.

A few weeks ago I walked down the block to pick up Captain Jelly Belly from the bus, and I took a magazine with me, in case I had to wait a few minutes. But right away, Rick, who lives across the street from us, came along with his year-old son, and we chatted about teething and aluminum water bottles and naptimes. And then Nadia showed up, who lives behind us and who was there to pick up her son from the bus too, and we chatted about the bus stop location, and she said she’d do all the work of contacting the school bus people to have our stop changed because we need it to be closer to my house so I can go outside to get the Captain while leaving the Wee One inside, if possible. And incidently, she did do all the work, and had it changed, and now the bus stop is at the end of our driveway, and how awesome is that?

About a week after that, I was walking over to the super mailbox, which is just one house down from ours, and it took me almost a half an hour to get there and back. Why? Edna, who lives on our street and who had a baby boy a couple of weeks after the Wee One was born, was driving by and pulled over so we could chat about our babies and how they were doing and how school was going for our older kids. After she left, Ben and Jody, who live across the street, came over to ask about the baby and to give us a book about babies that their kids had loved, to share with the Captain and Gal Smiley. How nice is that?

Then, a few days ago, Sir Monkeypants was making the most of the last of the good weather to take the kids on a walk around the crescent, as as they came upon the house that backs onto ours — which has a new family that just moved in a few weeks ago — there was a little girl playing outside. And she said, “Hey, Gal Smiley, want to come into my house and play?” And it turns out she is in Gal Smiley’s preschool class! They are already buds! So future playdates and school-related gossip awaits.

And THEN, as if all this wasn’t enough, last night around 8:30 the phone rings, and someone asks if I am the Captain’s mother. I totally feared the worst, like, did he beat up someone at school? Did he teach the other kids how to pick their noses? But no, it was all good. It was the mom of SweetGirl, who is in the Captain’s class at school and who also lives on our street, but who I have not actually met yet. She was calling because her daughter had told her that the Captain had missed a whole week of school last week (true — he had the flu) and that when the Captain arrived back at school this morning, they sang him a special welcome song (nice to hear about this grand event from SOMEONE ELSE, CAPTAIN). Since SweetGirl seemed really concerned about the Captain, her mom was calling to make sure he was okay, and that it was nothing serious, and to ask if we needed any help. And HOW AWESOME IS THAT?

And, I haven’t even mentioned the fact that our new next-door-neighbours have a baby boy who was born on the exact same day as the Wee One. And our neighbours on the other side are such good friends now that our kids are just at home at their place as our place, and vice versa, and we’ve swapped kid-care dozens of times, and they would absolutely be there for us in any kind of emergency.

Like I said, I know it’s not cool to live out here, but I really feel like I’m part of a community. Our street is almost like a really big family. Our neighbours know our names, they know our kids, and they actually care. It’s almost hard to believe it’s real.

We’re a couple of weeks into the TV season now, so it’s time for a TV rundown. I can’t be quick about these things, so I’ve put my ramblings after the jump.

Let’s start with the new shows. Reaper has a charming cast that works well together as an ensemble, and Ray Wise as the devil is so fabulous that I want to be his girlfriend. The problem with this show is that the storylines, for the first three weeks at least, are simplistic and repetitive. I was really hoping that this show would appeal to the Buffy fan in me, but each week all that the lead character has to do is get the “vessel” from the devil, find the bad guy — usually wearing some outrageous costume for “protection” — and point the vessel at the demon to capture it. Too easy, not enough excitement or mystery. There’s hope here, as I really like the characters, but they need to introduce some interesting themes and stronger, over-reaching action or it’ll just flame out.

Chuck is almost exactly the same show as Reaper (and is also the third show we are now watching Mondays at 8pm — thank goodness for time shifting!). They both feature a 20-something nerdy dude who works in a big-box store, who suddenly finds himself with secret powers for fighting bad guys. Sometimes I even get the two mixed up! Like Reaper, the cast on Chuck is charming and works well together. Plot-wise, there’s been more interesting things going on over at Chuck, and a big mystery — why Chuck was sent the secret CIA images that now live in his brain — was introduced in the pilot to take them through the season. It still needs more weight if we are to actually come to care for Chuck and his friends — right now it’s just too lightweight and, like Reaper, each storyline wraps itself up too easily and neatly within the hour. But at least Chuck has better action and also Adam Baldwin to recommend it.

Definitely the best new show that we’re watching is Dirty Sexy Money on Wednesday nights. It’s so trashy and soapy, but I just adore it. Peter Krause is great as the lead, but I also find myself really enjoying Donald Sutherland for the first time ever, as the head of the Darling family. The show has just the right mix of drama and silly humour, and it works its large cast together well. It’s escapist fun and I love it.

Also on Wednesdays, we’ve been recording Private Practice, but so far, it just hasn’t grabbed us. It’s definitely a chick show, and is more than ready to cut it loose. I think it’s still struggling to find the right tone, and also, although I like all the individual actors, I don’t find they are coming together as a group. In particular, I don’t like Tim Daly’s character — it’s an interesting idea to showcase alternative medicines on a medical show, but I hate the way that EVERY SINGLE WEEK it’s like, Hey, check out the crazy alternative idea! Oh wow, it worked! They need to make his inclusion in the show more seamless, and less After School Special. This one is definitely on the cusp of being dropped.

In other new-show news, Sir Monkeypants likes the Bionic Woman, and we still haven’t gotten around to watching the premiere of Women’s Murder Club, which was on last night.

And now, for a not-quick-at-all discussion of the returning shows we are watching.

I’m still sticking with Prison Break. I like the set up for this season, plus they’ve added William Fichtner as a regular character and I love that guy. T-Bag is back in prison, so he can stop freaking me out so much, and the new guy on the inside, Whistler, has a very attractive accent. The only thing I still dislike about this show is the character of Bellick — the actor does an excellent job, but I hate the fact that the character only seems to exist on this show so he can be degraded time and time again. It’s just grossness for grossness sake, and I’m tired of it. But I’m still with the show for a while, at least.

Heroes still hasn’t been able to draw me in like last season. Just about the only storyline I’m interested in is the murder of Hiro’s father, and the threat against Peter’s mother. Oh, and Sylar is still fascinating. I might actually be considering giving this one up, except for the fact that Kristen Bell should be showing up any time now, and that makes me so excited I could barf. So, it stays.

House is a show I was kind of iffy on last season, and when he fired his staff in the season finale, I thought it was a huge mistake for the show. Wrong, wrong, wrong! It’s been better than ever — Wilson is absolutely hilarious, House is as interesting as ever, and the new kids auditioning for a job in diagnostics have injected a lot of life into the show. I’m actually looking forward to this one every week and it’s the first show I reach for on the PVR when I get a few free minutes. In fact, you can probably judge how much I like a show by how many back-episodes are kicking around on the PVR, and there’s never any of House if I can help it. I don’t usually care for procedurals but somehow the formulaic nature of House is totally offset by the great acting and good writing.

Lastly, we have Grey’s Anatomy. I know just can’t see the draw of that show but man, I love it so much. I’m a chick, it’s a chick show, what can I say? I’m addicted, I’ll never give it up, even when it gets 90210-last-season awful.

And in other news, comedies How I Met Your Mother and 30 Rock continue to deliver the goods. I laugh out loud at both these shows every week. And, I never thought I’d say this, but 30 Rock has totally changed my opinion of Alec Baldwin, previously one of my Unholy Trinity Of Hollywood. I used to find him too slimy and smug in his movie roles, and never enjoyed his so-called legendary appearances on Saturday Night Live. But man, is he brilliant as Jack Donaghy. I’m so happy he didn’t quit the show, as he threatened last year — he’s definitely the show’s MVP. I also must mention that the season premiere featured Tina Fey’s character, Liz Lemon, eating an entire steak in less than a minute (and then blaming it on an invisible dog), which confirms without a doubt that Liz is based on the life of .

Yesterday the Captain was asking me what I had dressed up as for Halloween when I was little. I remembered a princess costume that won Best Costume when I was in kindergarten (the first and last time I won a popularity contest) and a pink panther costume. After a lot of thinking, I also came up with an orange witch costume — my mother was completely opposed to black costumes, and as a public service, I warn you all not to bring that point up with FameThrowa. That’s only three, though, and since I had dressed up every year between the ages of 2 and 12…13, I got out my old photo albums to have a look.

You can tell that my child photo album is from a time when film was expensive, and the camera was only taken out on special occasions, because every page in the album — representing one year of my life — is identical. Each page has the following photos on it: me in a new Easter dress; me playing at the beach with FameThrowa; me and my sisters in our Halloween costumes; me posing behind a birthday cake; two or three shots of me opening Christmas presents. I must admit that I have over-corrected for this kind of photo taking in my own life, and instead of only taking special-occasion pictures — in fact, I often forget the camera in the hustle and bustle of birthdays and trips to the farm — I follow our kids around and snap hundreds and hundreds of shots of them in their everyday lives. I’m like the family paparazzi.

Anyway, at least there was a photo of every Halloween costume I ever had. And it’s no wonder I couldn’t remember any more. The list goes like this:

Clown (a baby costume my mom had made, that we all wore)
Clown
Princess
Princess
Princess
Princess
Witch
Witch
Witch
Pink Panther
Pink Panther
Dog

I guess I wasn’t one to complain about the need for something new!

Today we went over to the Superstore as a family, an event that is becoming increasingly rare, as finding all three kids awake, fed, and in a good mood is about as rare as finding a solid gold nugget when we pull a weed up out of the lawn. But we made it over there, and while one of us rocked the Wee One while simultaneously threatening the other two with immediate store removal if they did NOT STOP PUSHING, the other one checked out the Halloween costumes.

Last year, Captain Jelly Belly was Thomas the Tank Engine, a store-bought costume that cost a small fortune. He loved it, and wanted to wear it all the time, but I was totally paranoid about resale value, so I only let him put it on for the night itself, and then I trailed around after him warning him not to get anything on it. Gal Smiley was a ladybug, with red wings and feelers overtop of her red snowsuit.

This year, I asked them what they wanted to be, and they both just assumed they’d be the same thing, like, we HAVE costumes, Mom, don’t you remember? And I was like, great! No more shopping for expensive stuff and changing their minds sixteen times! But then Sir Monkeypants suggested to the Gal that, since her red snowsuit doesn’t fit anymore, maybe she should consider something new. So off to the Superstore it was.

And now, we’re home…with not one, but TWO Buzz Lightyear costumes. We’ll be having Buzz and Buzz at our house this year. Already the Captain wants to trade costumes with the Gal, even though they are both EXACTLY the same, same size and everything. I’m sure when the day comes, he’ll be insisting that he is the “real” Buzz, while Gal Smiley only gets to be the “fake” Buzz. Meanwhile, I’ll be trailing around after both of them warning them not to get anything on it, so I can eBay them the next day.

But I have to say, Buzz and Buzz sure do look cute together :).

We have several sets of magnetic letters in our house — three sets of capital letters, and one set of small letters. Each set usually contains a couple extra of each vowel, which makes sense. But also, each set contains an extra letter G. Why? I wouldn’t have guessed that an extra G is essential to spelling most grade-school words. An extra S, or T, maybe an N, I could see. A G? What’s that about?

I smell conspiracy.

My mom doesn’t have a blog. (Side topic for discussion: if your parents had a blog, would you want to read it?)

But if she did, I bet she’d have a lot to say about this weekend, when all four of her daughters, their significant others, their kids, and their dogs descended on her 1000-square-foot, 3-bedroom 1-bath bungalow (with, thankfully, a powder room and family room in the basement). That’s 15 people crowded into a home that is just a wee bit bigger than my first apartment in Toronto. A bachelor apartment.

Mostly my mom has spent the weekend in the kitchen, struggling to feed the masses. When I got here, she had a big schedule on the kitchen counter listing who would be here when, and who was going to eat what at what meal. Here’s the schedule:

Base family (people who live in the house) — Mom, big sister SocialButterfly, her kids Red and Football, and their dog Ginger

Friday dinner: Base (4) + Turtleheads (5)

Saturday breakfast: same

Saturday lunch: Remove Sir Monkeypants, Captain Jelly Belly, and Gal Smiley, as they are off to visit Sir Monkeypants’s sister for the day; Add LittleSis, CanadiensFan#1, their son, HMan, and their dog, Sam; and Mom’s mom, Nana

Saturday dinner: Remove LittleSis and CanadiensFan#1 (off to a wedding); Add FameThrowa and her beau

Sunday breakfast: Re-add Sir Monkeypants, CJB, and GS; Remove Nana (breakfasting at her own place a few streets over)

Sunday lunch: Re-add Nana

Sunday dinner: Re-add LittleSis and CanadiensFan#1, for a total of 15 at dinner, plus two dogs

Monday breakfast: Remove LittleSis and family (gone back to their place in Toronto), and Nana (gone back to her place)

Monday lunch: Remove Turtleheads and Fame_Throwas and return to Baseline.

Not only did my Mom (and SocialButterfly) do tons of shopping and cooking for all these meals, they also gave up their own beds and rooms so that we could all sleep over, and the various kids could have closed-door rooms for quietness. On Friday night there were nine people sleeping here; on Saturday, there were 12! Every time a kid went to bed, another room or area of the house was closed off to the adults, until and were chased into the back bedroom of the house at 10pm.

But I have to say, I just LOVE being in a house that is so packed with people. I love the noise, I love the crazy, and our kids have been awesome, so the stress has been minimal.

And now, I’m off to get me some pie.