knitwit

I think I want to learn how to knit. Forget the fact that all the celebs have taken it up, I just feel like my life might be enhanced somehow if I could make a jaunty scarf or a very small blanket. I'm not one for artsy crafty things, but there is something therapeutic about the click-clacking sound of knitting needles. I'm fascinated by my mother-in-law's ability to expertly loop yarn around a finger and perform mysterious movements with knitting needles without even looking. I like the idea of a quiet moment in front of the television, click-clacking away after a very long and demanding day. Some people do puzzles to relax. Some have been swept up by Soduku-mania. Some people drink heavily. Me, I want to make tea cosies.

I'm still cool though, right?

half baked

My father-in-law offered to toast some bread for my sandwich. He put the bread on my plate and I noticed that only one side had been toasted. Now here comes one of those "I'm not crazy, YOU'RE crazy" moments I often have in this country. Apparently, most English people only toast one side of the bread (the outside) when making a sandwich such as a BLT. I never even knew that you could do such a thing in a toaster, let alone thought about how the toast will get soggy if it's toasted on the inside. It does make sense, though. When you make a cheese toastie (or a grilled cheese to us North Americans), the inside isn't toasted. Think about it! Or not.

Residents of the UK and ex-pats may notice my habit of writing posts about the differences (usually culinary) I've noticed here. I truly don't want to come across as a whingey tourist; the kind that compels you to shout "If you don't like it, go back to [insert city of origin here] and your supersized nachos!" Besides, it works both ways. I am certain that at this very moment, there are thousands of British ex-pats in Canada who are staring at a plate of poutine and wondering which circle of hell could have produced such a dish. They recoil in horror as we douse everything in ketchup, flee in terror from our numerous peanut butter-flavoured food items, and gasp in disbelief at our pogos. While much of my writing includes phrases such as "Good lord, what is wrong with you people?", it's always written out of love. No, really.

For any government officials who may be reading my blog, please take this into consideration when I apply for citizenship in the near future. I love England and the Queen is really excellent. Thank you.

i thank yew!

I have always maintained that the most useful (and supportive) advice I've ever come across has been from other mothers. Many thanks for all the replies to my last post, you lovely mums. You will always be infinitely superior to those bloody "Your Baby This Month" emails from which I really should unsubscribe.

I think my concern was more about Jack's non-verbal communication more than his first words, because I'm sure that many babies don't talk at his age. Jack doesn't point, wave, clap, shake or nod his head, which I thought he would be doing by now. I'll definitely keep up the question asking and the Let's Point Everything Out and Make Associated Noises game, though. My barnyard animal impressions are usually a big hit during suppertime.

Jack's latest fascination seems to be with nose picking - not his; everyone else's. If he is within reach of your nose, he will take one pointed finger and proceed to poke it up your nostril. This is not limited to people around him either, he'll also try to pick the noses of people on television. I dread to think how many noses his finger has been in by the time he comes home from nursery.

i know, i know, i know

I am usually not the fretful type. I often complain about The Very, Very Annoying Books - pregnancy and baby books - that insist that at certain months, certain milestones "should" be reached. I tend not to read them simply because they make me cranky.

So having said all that, something is starting to bother me a bit. Jack doesn't really communicate with us, and I'm starting to wonder if we should be doing something to encourage this. I'm starting to get concerned because he doesn't make many gestures (like pointing, clapping, waving, etc.) or sounds particular to an object or person. He constantly "babbles", making all sorts of random sounds like he's having a conversation with himself in a foreign language. I don't think he's said any words that he associates with something specific, like "dada" for Paul. He'll flap his arm up and down when he's annoyed, but doesn't point or reach for whatever it is he wants. I suppose to say he doesn't communicate is inaccurate; it just doesn't seem to be getting more specific yet.

I think it's got to do with the desire to spot some sort of sign that Jack is trying to interact with me. I hold things up and tell him what they are, in that over-enunciated manner we normally reserve for non-English speakers and the elderly. I ask him questions and wait for an answer, as he glances at me with a frown and carries on chewing the remote. I sing to him, make all sorts of animal noises ("Dog! Woof!"), and read books to him. I point excitedly at objects and gasp, "Look! What's that?!", which usually causes the dog to come bounding into the room because he thinks something really exciting is happening, while Jack makes an escape to investigate the washing machine.

Maybe he is communicating with me, after all. He's probably trying to tell me to leave him alone and stop being insane.

bring out the huskies

"Pupils in the north of Scotland and parts of Wales are being told to stay at home for a second day following snowfalls of more than 10cm.

Forecasters say snow will hit more areas overnight, including parts of the south, with temperatures as low as -7C." [source]

10cm and -7C, eh? Sounds like the time of year for restaurants to re-open their terraces in Montreal.

drown me in syrup and call me a flapjack

Every year I bang on about weird English pancakes on Shrove Tuesday and this year, I am pleased to announce, is no different. Okay fine, I'll accept the fact that many Europeans enjoy the thinner crepe-like pancake as opposed to our North American fat n' fluffy variety. Crepes are nice, especially when you slather them with Nutella and stuff them full of bananas. What I cannot get my head around is the concept of Jif lemon as a pancake topping. For those of you not in the know, Jif lemons are those plastic squeezy lemons filled with lemon juice often found in the fruit and veg section. English people like to put this stuff on their crepey pancakes and sprinkle sugar on them. Good lord people, WHY? You can get maple syrup here - use it! Enjoy it! Savour the sweetness that is the pancake topping! Why torture yourself with the sour taste of plastic lemons when you can slop syrup all over your chin with wild abandon?

They had English pancakes at the nursery yesterday, but apparently Jack wouldn't touch them. After supper last night, I gave Jack a "Canadian" pancake.



Being part Canadian, his stomach must reside in the Canadian half.

all the small things

Shopping for newborn baby items during PMT week makes for one very emotionally-charged trip to Mothercare. Our cousin Gail gave birth to a little boy on Saturday, so I took Jack shopping for baby things. As I picked up the teeny tiny newborn clothes, I couldn't help but "Awwwww!" at everything. "Look at this!" I said to my confused-looking son. "You used to be this tiny once! Awwwwwww. Looooook!" I grinned and fussed over sleepsuits, itty bitty socks, soft teddies, and wrist rattles (I even found one called "Baby Jack"). I left Mothercare feeling incredibly broody. Not broody enough to consider getting back on the pregnancy train just yet, mind you.

Some pictures from the weekend:

Jasper makes a lovely chair.




"Where's Spring?"


Jasper makes a lovely pillow, too.