It ends

It is over; caput, goodbye, adieu, farewell, le fin, no more, all done. I am breaking up with you.

How many hours have I spent, gazing into your depths, looking for deeper meaning and fulfillment? kijijiAlberta> Calgary>buyandsell>Baby items>Strollers,carriers&carseats, it simply is not with you.

We have had such wonderful times together, bartering, looking at pictures, researching stroller models various seat reclines and color schema. You were the obsession of a grouchy gravida, and the refuge of an exhausted new mother in early a.m. hours. But I have taken all I can from you. I used you, besotted as I was, for your strollers.

This has become an unhealthy relationship; I have been fantasizing of how to convince my friends to have babies so's to justify another stroller mission and purchase from your depths. I also considered buying more strollers, replacing their canopies, and reselling them. My mother has told me that I do not have enough room in my apartment, and that I need to move on. I agree with both points.

Our time was not wasted time My keen interest in used luxury pushchairs has brought me to the following useful conclusions;

The Bumbleride Queen B (2007-2008) is a Hummer – a fortress for baby with solid construction. Adding to the manliness of this stroller is a JOHNDEER color scheme. The vibrant and roomy canopy is without compromise (it even has a peekaboo window), as are the large, all-terrain air filled tires. The seat may be turned around if baby is sick of looking and momma, the handle can be adjusted so a four year old may happily push. Like a Hummer, the Queen B requires muscle and space. With its significant bulk and weight of 32 lbs + baby, it requires either two people to bring down the stairs, or a garage at street level. Or it folds and can be transported with baby in two pieces. Nothankyouverymuch. Needless to say this kijiji venture was not a successful one, and a month or two after aquisition, I return this pram to you, with a brand new carry basket. I give it four out of five hearts, all of which are BROKEN.

New price: $649-$799 Kijiji price: $200

Moving right along....

...footloose and fancy free!

The Bumbleride Flyer, we visited after much deliberation. The 2007 model I viewed is persnickety – the adjustable handlebar means locking and unlocking wheels, and the baby-facing-momma direction steers rather poorly. The footmuff and canopy have useful pockets on this model, but the hesitant orange color is not very appealing (it is a pale orange, almost pastel-esque. Ick). This stroller I did not purchase, and fled rapidly. However it does have a nice folding mechanism and is fairly light. On paper the flyer is perfect for an apartment, but it's finicky wheels and steering do not suit this momma's purposes. This stroller garners two out of five hearts, NONE of which are broken.

New price: $329-$459 Kijiji price: $200

Easily the prettiest stroller I met because of you, Mr. Kijiji was the Bumbleride Indie. This beautiful red jogging stroller is a dream. Light and compact, smooth and pretty, it steers well, can be lifted with baby inside it, and is the mid-range costing stroller. It is under 20 lbs and has an especially compact fold, and is designed to handle light running. With the same tires and the Queen B, the useful pockets of the Flyer, and the sturdy fabric characteristic of the brand, this is the perfect stroller to buy. However, I did not – I found something better.

New price: $499-$550 Kijiji price: $250

I hesitated with this last stroller. It was a Bugaboo, a brand name I associated with wealth and trendiness (two things which I am not). And the model I was to look at was discontinued, and orange. Nevertheless, I committed to viewing a Bugaboo Frog.

This stroller floored me. Steerable with one finger, loaded with accessories (hello toddler board, bassinet, cupholder, mosquito net, rain shield, repair kit) there was no turning back. The fold, while compact, is undeniably fiddly, but it is very light, all-terrain and alright to run with on occasion (!!!!!!). Like the bumblerides, this stroller has an aluminum frame and good sized canopy.

This is what you gave me, kijiji. Five out of five hearts. I need you no longer.

New price (not including toddler board and cupholder): $759-$799 Kijiji price: $350

And that's all, folks. School time!!!!

And so the search continues...

We have found, much to our chagrin, the kijiji Queen B Bumbleride is too big for our tiny apartment.  I have sighed, huffed, puffed, but found that the functionality, beauty and sturdiness of this stroller are not enough to outweigh the obvious impracticality in our 500 sq. foot home.

And so, we are left without a stroller.  My dreams of a Bumbleride come to an abrupt hiccup.  I look longingly at Kijiji, craigslist, and ebay, in the mild hope that an indie will appear in our budget range.  1 a.m. - no luck.  1:30 a.m. - no luck.  1:32 a.m. - feed baby Noelle.  1:38 a.m. - no luck.  1:42 a.m. - sigh heavily with the knowledge that I will not be a fit momma without an awesome jogging stoller.

As we drive back to Calgary this afternoon, I check the Bumbleride facebook page on my smart phone, and find, like Cinderella, there may be a fairy godmother to my bumbleride heartache.  THEBABYGUYNYC GIVEAWAY AAAAAHAHHHHHH.

because I am generous (or mercenary) I will share the link.

http://www.babyguygearguide.com/bumbleridenatural#comment-5785


From what I can tell, this guy is a champ at reviewing strollers.  Maybe, just maybe, our (my) wish for a brand new Bumbleride Indie may come true.  Sigh.



-Hawk

38 weeks 2 days

I have been informed today that the owl has a flock of people that will attend a pity party in his honor.

It would seem that a lady, with child, often reaches a point where she is ready to have an 'outside baby,' but is forced to wait for nature's timing instead of a date linked to her convenience. As such, the lady may become grumpy and impatient, stir-crazy and unpleasant. THUS the era of elective C-SECTIONS?!?!?!!?

I am pleased to report that not only am I not opting for an elective C-SECTION, but that I am also none of the aforementioned negative qualities. My mother expects me to embody these unhappy traits, having carried this baby longer than she any of her six. It is my parents that are sending prayers to the owl, feeling he might be hen-pecked for the next two weeks.

Fortunately this is not the case. This hawk is peppy, happy with the company of my pretty cockatiels, entertained with knitting projects and university course coordination, cleaning things, walking around and waking up the owl at the crack of dawn.

We have a lovely nest ready for the little chick. It is a pretty dark cherry, host to a black bear with an emerald green ribbon, mickey mouse and a little ducky, all perched on a frog/snail/duck/turtle bedding, set beneath a frog/snail/duck/turtle mobile that softly plays the Brahms lullaby.

Ah, me.

The rain fell in soft sheets and stripped away the hours. After a fairly hot July, this unprecedented period of precipitation is appreciated in appropriate portions. Today it was a blissful union of weather, quiet mood and meditative preparation. I am knitting a mint green blanket, but using purling exclusively with no pretty planned pattern.

Needless to say (though I am sure through the incessant blathering it can be gathered) the Hawk is excited for the rush, fear, scramble and energy of bringing a little one into the world, and finds this interim period an interesting test of what is important and core to making a day worth living from sun to sun.

-Hawk

The Most Intense Year and a Half of My Life, Part 2

Part Two: The Long Form Note

So.  I had just been introduced to Violet.  We began by exchanging (now defunct) blog sites, and accepting friend requests on Facebook.  I remember sitting for an evening, reading her material, being absolutely taken by the writing style (grace and brevity), and by the aching beauty of its content.  I remember, the way my heart beat just a little faster when I saw that she was on to chat. 

I remember our first long FB conversation.  I remember it less for the content of the words we said, and more for this tremendous feeling that overcame me.  It was the feeling of a doom befalling me.  Now, dear reader, you would say, "Phil that sounds awfully gloomy, and rather grim and foreshadowing."  But I would reply to you, dear reader in this perhaps somewhat condescending manner, "Well, dear reader, you are correct, if you consider the conventional understanding of the word doom.  But I mean by it a different sense.  Violet was my doom, in the way it was to 'ordain or fix as a fate.'"

I sensed, a moment that stretched for the entire evening, that Violet would become part of the rest of my life.  I think we humans are accorded in this life a few genuine premonitions, and for me, this was one of them.  I knew that Violet, in her careful, precise and delicate words, her curious and forthright manner, was my beauty to win. 

I knew that coming out of a summer where my heart had been scraped over a rough emotional landscape of restraint, desire and betrayal, I had to protect myself, and to hold carefully in my hand the tiny germinating seed of love. 

I knew this, and so I very consciously avoided talking to Violet about the emotions she stirred within me with her words.  I remember feeling how important that sense of discretion was.  I needed to hold my feelings at arm's length.  I wanted to show myself discipline, and in a way, her as well.

We had embarked on a journey of the long form note.  We wrote during our time at school, both out and in class.  We spoke a dialogue of politics, culture, religion and literature.  We asked each other questions.  She had not received the same sense of things that I had about our prospects, we were pen pals - not potential partners, but I had a sense of the trajectory we were on. 

And so, I wrote a letter.  (That's Part Three!)

Working on the Story

This New Year's, I made a resolution to finish a novel before the year was out.  Up to this point, I've got three scenes complete, each nearly about a chapter's length.  I've been reworking the story, over and over in my head, and unfortunately, I've just begun taking notes. 

The basic idea is this:  young adult fiction (if not tween - 10 to 14yrs), in a fantastic setting, comprising mostly of the City of Pearl - a city where magic is so commonplace, it's rare to not have any or not be using any.   The main character is forced from his home into an unwelcome apprenticeship, where he must survive in an unfamiliar city, with no friends but those he makes.

I've got some great ideas and I worked out the plotting for the first chapter (again!), and I think I have the idea of how the initial action is happening.

Tis fun, but hard to find the time these days.  Working Starbucks really helps.  I like the morning shifts they've been giving me.  It leaves my afternoons and evenings to recover, do errands during business hours, and work on writing in the evenings.  Violet's been coming along for the ride, as my creative consultant, and as you can see below, the most interesting blog writer of the two of us. 

My sweet hawk. 

The Most Intense Year and Half of my Life, Part 1

Part One: Words, Wings and Our Wonderful Story

In order to really bring justice to this last year and a half, this period with the greatest density of life changing events in my adult life, I need to go back to when I had just turned 24. Camp had started.  I was helping out as a leader in the teen development program at a local children's bible camp, a wonderful job, in my opinion, probably one of the best in the world.  I had just finished up my second last year of English, well on my newly motivated way towards finishing my degree. 

I love camp.  It was chock full of unique people, all working towards the same objective - making kids and teens feel like they belong in a new and strange setting, and having as much fun as you can have whilst doing that. 

And then there were the really interesting staff, the really cute ones.  And there was one in particular. 

Up to and including this point in my life, I had agonized about my singleness, a course of celibacy enforced upon myself for nearly five years.  I had bought into the idea that to be A Good Christian Man, I must excise all thoughts of lust - which included attraction towards the opposite gender.  While I think I had a very good heart back then, I think some of the principles that I had followed at that point were somewhat flawed.  Now isn't the time to get into the topic of Being a Male In the Church Today, but I hope to later. 

Yeah.  There was this girl.  She was beautiful, captivating, and totally unreachable, due to the strictures of camp.  Not merely that, I knew in my heart of hearts, that she wasn't the one for me.  One of the strange by-products of the Long Night of the Owl's Solitude, was the constant communication God and I had regarding relationships.  It came in two flavors.  The first would be my initial attraction, followed by prayer, and then usually a very strong sense of not for you, Phil.  The second being my common sense kicking me straight up the head.  This was both.  But the attraction lingered throughout the summer camp season, and I had some heavy lifting to do in terms of prayer and getting my head screwed on straight. 

Camp ended.  One of my fellow leaders with whom I co-lead the program with, and with whom I had also confided my attraction, dropped a bomb.  This wasn't like a flashbang, or a concussion grenade.  We're talking shrapnel here.  He was dating the Girl.  It felt like I was in some strange Shakespearian love triangle. 

During this season, I had been writing to my aunt.  Strange, at first glance, but we'd struck up as quite companionable pen pals, as we were both interested in writing, and we'd always got along.  She was also in BC, six hours away from where I was living and far enough away to be an objective third party.   I told her my story.

She replied with not a well-written email, which was common, but rather, with an introduction to Violet, over facebook. 

Little did I know what significance this would have on my life.   But I remember feeling like I was caught up in a strange and wonderful story, the one of my life.  And it was moving in a very interesting direction. 

The Owl

36 Weeks

Today our egg has officially been incubating 36 weeks. It has, thus far, followed proper egg protocol, met all the Government of Canada guidelines for growth and activity, and been in general a good tenant of the Bird's nest. There are suspicions this little creature may be female, but the wording of an ultrasound tech was a cautious "I don't think it is a boy." The chick should crack into this world at the end of July or first week of August, depending on how cramped quarters become.

As we look at our humble abode, we observe, clean and take stock of the things we have prepared for the new addition. I see a pram with an aluminum frame in JOHN DEERE green and yellow. The stroller has a name; the Bumbleride company calls her a 2007 Queen B. Beside the pram is a little blue bassinet, and a Safety First carseat in brown and blue. We have a yellow Rubbermaid of freshly laundered baby clothes from B.C, and a unopened box of bottles.

Our nest is coming together quite nicely.

.................

In the last week or two, I have come to the realization that there are not very many married couples having babies in my social sphere. At 21, my friends are partying, working loads, saving money for trips and handbags, dancing at clubs, studying through the night... In contrast, I am budgeting, finishing up a degree in daytime hours, planning for a new, tiny person in my life, and sorting through what it means to be a good spouse. Is there any common ground here? Is it fair for me to jabber incessantly about baby things with young people far removed from the concept? Probably not. What is the solution to a seeming hole in my social life? Forums? Facebook? My momma? Books? My doctor?

The solution thus far has been a hodgepodge of the aforementioned. I have found new mommies are tired and do not have oodles of time for we incubators. My mum listens well, but lives 6 hours away. My friends are tied up with their own lives, or are not all that interested in breastfeeding and comparative diaper shopping.

Today I decided that I prefer to be excited about baby things and preparations for the baby's sake, and to learn as much as I can independently. The desire for fellow female baby-haver's conversation is not in the cards, or necessary. I can knit and practice my kegels without encouragement, thank-you-very-much!

The Hawk