I have tried everything.  I’ve tried letting him cry.  I hated it but I tried because I am beyond my wit’s end.  This week is making all his previous sleep problems in their staggering intensity, seems like small beans.  We’ve been to the pediatrician.  He has a diaper rash, a chest cough, and is teething.  I am sure none of these things are fun… but I am also sure I don’t have sympathy to an up all night, every night extent.

I am ready to give this child away.  I think it would be better for his health and for mine.  I simply do not know what to do but I feel like I am going to lose my mind.

Has anyone else dealt with a kid who just won’t adjust to his new time zone?  We’re 9 hours ahead of Alberta here.  Not that his schedule is following his Albertan one.

Really, how long can this carry on?  Surely I’ll self combust at some point, right?  I feel like I will.  Any minute.  ARGH!!!!

© 2009 You Can’t Diaper Their Faces: A Guide To Modern Mothering | All rights reserved. Copyright for republished writing or artwork belongs to the original writer or artist, as noted. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

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EcoKid noticed a tacky, cheap accessories shop as we headed for the chocolate shop.  She wanted to go in and look.  So we did.  I ended up buying some socks.  There was sale.  I needed socks.  (I am trying to justify this excursion to myself, okay?)  EcoKid found surprise bags.  They were $2.50 each.  She’d just been presented with a surprise bag by a kindly woman in Glendon when we stopped to look at the World’s Largest Pyrogy (that, my friends, is a story unto itself) and she was therefore dead keen on the surprise bag.  Having just made an unplanned purchase for myself I felt like I couldn’t really say no to her request.  So we left the shop five pairs of socks and two surprise bags heavier than we entered it.

After leaving the mall experience behind us, we headed for the library to get some books and to help me recover from my bout with consumer culture.  (Seriously, the consumer culture is insidious; it is so much harder to resist in the West than back in Turkey.)

We drove along in my mom’s car and EcoKid began to open her surprise bags.  She discovered within: two pairs of earrings (soon to be gifted to Auntie J, I believe,) a hair clip (also to be gifted to Auntie J,) four strands of sparkly beads (”for me, because I’m a princess” squealed EcoKid,) a skull and crossbones wallet, hair elastics galore, sparkly hairbands, a floral hairband, and a bracelet featuring a large ovaline glass bead with swirls leading to its centre.

“Oh Mummy,” sighed EcoKid, “I really love this bracelet.”

“That’s good,” I replied.

“Ye-ess,” said EcoKid (yes is always two syllables when uttered by her,) “it’s really beautiful because it looks just like my vagina.”

Yes, my girl.  And don’t ever let anyone ever make you feel any different about your genitals.

© 2009 You Can’t Diaper Their Faces: A Guide To Modern Mothering | All rights reserved. Copyright for republished writing or artwork belongs to the original writer or artist, as noted. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

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Nah… I won’t amend.  Most of Canada is cold.  Very, very cold.  I have been here since April 8th (save my delightful– and WARM– jaunt to Los Angeles last month) and have yet to see the temperature rise above what Ankara was averaging before I left.  More, it’s not even hit Ankara’s early April temps.  And Ankara, my friends, is not a hot spot in Turkey.  (Yeah, that last statement works on NUMEROUS levels.)

As a Canadian, I used to think that Canada had an unfair reputation for being frosty.  I mean, we have summer, we wear shorts, we go to beaches!  Come on!

Yeah.  A little time in a country that genuinely has four seasons offers one a little perspective.

When I lived in France, I was on the coast.  I attributed the vastly more agreeable temperatures to the marine effect.  (Correctly, of course.  But inland France is also more climatically reasonable.

I also lived coastally in England.  That’s a damp, chilly country and EcoDad and I joke about the summer temperatures in Wales, but it’s still never nearly as cold as Northern Alberta.  Nor does winter extend into May.  Nor does it begin in September.

From my vantage point now, I can see that a country in which one can easily pass an entire calendar year without once donning shorts (and indeed, quite comfortably remain in fleece) is a cold place.

Yes, there are Northern Albertans who wear shorts.  I have been one of them.  I haven’t done so in a few years, here.  At least, not without feeling the chill.

Last week, the temperature reached a whopping 24C (75F) and people complained about the ‘heat.’  I kid you not.  I was still in my cords and a long-sleeve tshirt.  Though not a sock-lover, I’ve remained knit-footed every day of my time here.

Canada is a cold place.  Sure, there’s the moderating marine effect along the Atlantic and Pacific coasts.  But they’re still darned chilly places a huge part of the year.  There’s no place in Canada I’ve been where I’ve though it hot enough to enter the local waters.  (Toronto, I must say, gets horribly hot and humid during the summer months, but the water there– still frigid enough that more than a toe dip is not in the cards for me.)

I really don’t know how I’ll survive here once we return permanently.  All my faithful readers will know that I’m not a big fan of living in Turkey.  But living in Canada?  Can I do it again?

I wish there were more jobs available in New Zealand…

(By the way, no one need point out that Winnipeg, our chosen settling location in Canada is one of the frostiest cities in the country.  I know.  I know.  I know…)

© 2009 You Can’t Diaper Their Faces: A Guide To Modern Mothering | All rights reserved. Copyright for republished writing or artwork belongs to the original writer or artist, as noted. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

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Busy. That’s what we’ve been. Playdating. Swimming. Crafting. Running (and running and running.) The EcoKids have been going non-stop. We are having a full, fabulous time here in Canadia. It doesn’t leave much time for blogging though; I hope my infrequent updates don’t leave you irritated; the sparse updating will be continuing a while.

I’m typing this aboard a Westjet flight to Los Angeles. The EcoKids as well as EcoSister and EcoNephew are joining me on a trip to visit friends and go Disneyland CRAZY. I fully expect to fill the 16G card in my camera this week. As I type, EcoKid is reminding me that she wants to sleep with Cinderella. And that Sleeping Beauty is waiting for her. She’s pretty psyched. Especially for a kid with extremely limited knowledge of the Disneyverse.

While this blog isn’t getting much of my attention at the moment, I am doing fairly regular podcast work with my friend Liz from Three Bright Stars. We think we’re pretty amusing and hope that you will too—check out our sounds at techchicklets.com. Leave a comment or two while you’re at it!

I will try to throw an update or two into this space shortly after we return from The Happiest Place on Earth ; I mean, I’m gonna have, like, several thousand photos that need to be shared.

For now, I’m going to shut down this computer and watch some Pingu with EcoKid. It’s rare that we have time to watch telly together.

© 2009 You Can’t Diaper Their Faces: A Guide To Modern Mothering | All rights reserved. Copyright for republished writing or artwork belongs to the original writer or artist, as noted. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

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That’s right folks, I have entered the uncharted waters of podcasting.  My friend Liz and I are recording tech themed podcasts.  And you wondered why I haven’t been updating!

We’re aiming to produce weekly shows on various tech topics– news, ruminations, and developments in the online world such as it intersects with our daily lives.  I hope you’ll consider subscribing to our feed and listening (hopefully not muting!) to our stuff.

I’m still completely wierded out by hearing my own voice coming at me on my iPod (by the way, EcoDad, I bought an iPod.)  I’m also horrified by each instance of bad grammar, tongue stumble, and poorly gathered thoughts… but all in all I think it’s a pretty competent first production.  And Liz assures me that my insecurities about my own performance are without merit.

So… listen to us!  We’re the Tech Chicklets at:

http://techchicklets.rockonchicago.com/

Look for us also on iTunes:

http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=314164819

Happy listening!

© 2009 You Can’t Diaper Their Faces: A Guide To Modern Mothering | All rights reserved. Copyright for republished writing or artwork belongs to the original writer or artist, as noted. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

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So, the flights were hell.  It began right off the bat in Ankara when we arrived at the airport to discover that EcoBabe was not on the ticket.  Or, at least not properly on it.  That particular problem dogged us on each leg of our journey, causing me ping-pong ball anxiety in my belly.

I was up at 1:40am for the flight.  I fell asleep sometime after 12:30am.  Starting a trip of 26 hours on a sleep deficit pretty much guaranteed that it wouldn’t go well.  But some things really, really didn’t go well.

EcoKid had a few meltdowns.  Understandable.  She was working on 5 hours of sleep AND was having to endure endless hours of airport and airplane.  At 3.5 years old though, the girl did incredibly well.  In fact, the two longer of our three flights I got frequent compliments from other travellers on what a well-behaved child she was.  Yeah EcoKid! 

Our flights from Ankara to Istanbul and Istanbul to London were relatively uneventful save the trouble of EcoBabe’s ticket/boarding card mess-up.  Arriving in Heathrow signalled the turn in our experience though.  That’s when things went from expectedly unpleasant to really damned awful.

We got off the plane to discover that rather than bringing our gate-checked stroller back to us, the baggage handlers had sent it through with checked baggage.  This meant enduring a 5 hour layover with EcoBabe strapped to my front (he is HEAVY), three large, heavy carry-on bags draped over my body and being wheeled behind me, three heavy winter coats tucked through straps, and trying desperately to herd EcoKid without a spare hand to grasp her.  This resulted in losing her once (very, very briefly in Hamley’s toy shop) and in complete exhaustion within the first hour of the layover.  It culminated with me locking us into the family toilet where I unloaded my bags, coats, and kids and let the EcoChildren have an unimaginable germ fest.  That’s right folks, I was so tired and so entirely at a loss for how to keep my sanity that I let my children play in a dirty airport bathroom, running back and forth between a toilet bowl and a garbage can.  Rest assured I soaped them up well before we departed…

Somehow, someway, we survived Heathrow with me starring as Exhausted EcoDonkey.  When we got on our flight to Canada, the EcoChildren fell asleep before pre-boarding had even finished.  I (stupidly, stupidly, stupidly) breathed a sigh of relief and thought things could only look up after five excruciating hours in Terminal Three.

Oh how very wrong I was.

The EcoChildren slept for about two hours.  My seatmate and I chatted for a bit and I watched an episode of Corner Gas.  A whole, uninterupted television program.  I dared to think that things were, in fact, going pretty well.  Ha!

The EcoChildren woke up tired.  It was past their bedtimes at home; they’d been up half the night before.  They were cranky.  EcoKid said straight up that she wanted to go home to her dad.  EcoBabe got fussy.  A little noisy.  EcoKid whined and complained.  

Eventually I found myself sitting on the floor in front of them, one child in each of our two seats.  They were happiest this way and though I was markedly uncomfortable squished into the foot space, I was less stressed than when listening to them complain.  

And then I noticed two feet at my side.  I looked up to see a very large man looming above me, staring hard in my face.  I looked at my kids quickly, then glanced back, thinking he’d have moved on.  He hadn’t.  He glared at me with huge glassy eyes, unblinking.  I spoke to him but I can’t recall what I said.  I felt incredibly intimidated.  I was on the floor and had no way to move.  He really had me cornered.  He sneered and moved suddenly to grab EcoBabe.  I yelled, “No!” at him thereby waking my seatmate.  He quickly assessed the situation and dashed off to get the flight attendants.  My heart was racing.  The large, looming man raised his fist and shook it at me but didn’t say a word.  All the while he was glaring hard, not breaking his gaze.  I shifted as much as I could from the floor to position myself in front of the EcoChildren.  He teetered back and forth seeming to me to look angrier and angrier.  

It must have been less than  minute that this situation endured but it felt like an eternity.  Like a film reel running in slow motion.  And then suddenly the flight attendants swooped in.  The reel resumed regular speed.

One woman squeezed between him and me.  Then there was a flight attendant on each side of him.  They told him to return to his seat and he insisted that this was his seat.  He lunged for EcoBabe again and they restrained him.  Then a little face closely resembling his appeared right next to mine; a toddler.  And she clung to his leg.  The flight attendants got this little girl to steer them and to coax her obnoxiously drunk father back to his seat.  I don’t know how he was kept there.  I couldn’t see if he was restrained or if he passed out or if he remained seated through some other means.  When we landed in Edmonton, the RCMP boarded and removed him.  His wife and two small children were waiting in a corner when the EcoChildren and I eventually got off the plane too.  

Nice, eh?  A father travelling transcontinentally with a baby and a toddler gets so drunk that he’s threatening other passengers.  What a winner.

The rest of the flight was a bit of a blur.  I remained vaguely fearful of his possible return to my chairside.  

Things moved slowly once we landed.  Customs took over an hour.  I had a terrible time finding my bags.  I couldn’t push the baggage cart and the EcoChildren in the double stroller at the same time.  I ended up enlisting the help of one of the RCMP who had been involved with the drunk dude.  I had him push my bags.  The next day I discovered that my single stroller had been smashed.  

But it’s all over.  We’re here now.  We’re safe.  We just had a wonderful Easter weekend with visits from aunts, uncles, cousins, and all kinds of extended  family.  I’ve replaced the broken stroller and Air Canada is reimbursing me.  My vacation here is firmly underway.

I’m still reminding myself to breathe deep though…

© 2009 You Can’t Diaper Their Faces: A Guide To Modern Mothering | All rights reserved. Copyright for republished writing or artwork belongs to the original writer or artist, as noted. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

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Oh well.  Too bad.

I’ve got a lot of my packing done.  Most, actually.  EcoBabe just needs his socks packed.  And then we’re covered.  And if I forget something, I’ll be heading to Goodwill or the Sally Ann not long after arriving anyway.  Now is the time when I get to fret and fear the flight itself.  

I used to love flying.  I loved trips that involved transfers because I got to take off and land repeatedly.  Now those are white knuckle moments for me.  My stomach is in my mouth.  I pay attention to the safety information presented by the flight attendants.  I NEED to know how to save my kids if we crash (because the likelihood of survival is so high… ha.)  

Flying is sheer hell for me.  I’m deathly afraid where once I was delighted.  Had I not children in tow, I’d be taking sleeping pills to get me through the experience.  Alas, I have EcoKid and EcoBabe to tend to and to keep calm.  So I must pretend at calm myself.  

We have oodles of diversions packed in our carry on bags to ease us through the flights.  Or rather, they do.  They’ve got toys, books, games, art stuff, and gifts from my friend M.  I’ll have my computer (not for me, for them to watch DVDs on!)  And I’ve got food, food, food in case the airplane food doesn’t meet their high culinary standards.  

I hope we make it.  Rather, I hope I make it.  I have a vision of me being carried off the plane in a stretcher due to nervous exhaustion.  It won’t happen, but if I imagine the worst… well… I don’t know why I bother with imagining the worst.  

So.  22 hours of flights.  About 28 hours door-to-door (assuming no gargantuan delays of the sort we had last summer– 14 glorious hours in Gatwick Airport.)  A week or so of jetlag, I’m guessing.  Then three whole months of Canada!  Family!  Friends!  Fun!  

I’ll post again when we get there and get settled.  Please send all kinds of positive thoughts my way, if you can spare them.

And Marie, I’m putting your four leaf clover into service again.  She’s travelling in my carry on luggage too.

Bye bye!

© 2009 You Can’t Diaper Their Faces: A Guide To Modern Mothering | All rights reserved. Copyright for republished writing or artwork belongs to the original writer or artist, as noted. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

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So, a final pre-departure crafting update:

Laptop Sleeve, my design

I want to take my computer with me to Canada because my dad’s is s…..l…..o…………w.  And because I want to be able to download pics from my camera.  I didn’t want to take my big, bulky laptop bag as it would singlehandedly use up my carryon baggage allowance on the plane.  And with two kids I need as much room as possible for bribes, toys, and food (they wisely are unimpressed by airline culinary offerings.)  So I whipped up this little sleeve into which I can slip my laptop and keep it safe.  Added bonus:  I can let the kids watch DVDs on it while we fly.  We’ve got a few new VCDs for the occasion.  In Turkish, of course.  

Magic Schoolbus Dress, requested by EcoKid

When I sewed her the magic wand dress, my first project back in January, EcoKid immediately asked for a Magic Schoolbus dress and a Lumpy (Disney’s new Winnie the Pooh character) dress.  The latter I’ve yet to create and the above is the Magic Schoolbus dress.  I sewed the dress from a pattern.  The schoolbus I drew and then fabric painted onto the dress and the wheels and eye/headlight I appliqued.  EcoKid asks to wear it every day.  I am chuffed.  Another shot of it below.

Magic Schoolbus dress

Cloth Menstrual Pad

The cloth menstrual pad I made imagining it as an entry into the Sublime Stitching Upcycling contest.  I used tattered flannel pjs, a stained baby towel, and a snap from an already repurposed baby pyjama to make it. It didn’t turn out as well as I’d hoped, so I’m not entering. Sadly, I don’t have time to give it a second go before flying away from Ankara and my sewing machine. It’s perfectly functional and oodles of fun. Half the fun is imagining which of you are right this very moment cringing at the thought of a cloth menstrual pad. The other half of the fun is imagining which of you are shaking your head and calling me a hippy. (For the record, I’m a Diva girl; I just like back-up.)  Oh, and I took a kazillion photos of it.  I’ll be turning it into a tute at some point in the future.  Likely once I have a chance to try again and tighten up my zigzag stitching.  (Thanks for the tip, H!)

The Outdoorsy Type skirt

I designed this, my first skirt with a yoke. The fabric is Alexander Henry’s The Outdoorsy Type. I have scrappy leftovers; my facebook friends who signed up to receive homemade gifts from me should wonder if any of the scraps will appear in their gifts.

Loving my girl

EcoKid wants a matching skirt. Looks like I’ll need to order some more fabric. Which means more scraps…

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Anyway.

I’m okay.  I have a calcified hematoma.  It’s easy to treat and no big deal.  And I have fodder for writing.  Those MRI machines are psychadelic!  

I am now free to turn my worries to the 23 hours of flying I get to do next week with two children in tow and no one to help me.  Four airports, three flights, two children, one mum.  Ack.  Egads.

It seemed like a good idea when departure day was far off.

What have I done????

© 2009 You Can’t Diaper Their Faces: A Guide To Modern Mothering | All rights reserved. Copyright for republished writing or artwork belongs to the original writer or artist, as noted. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

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