Awhile back I explained a favourite method of involving friends and family in the 'name choosing' process without giving away your official name choice.  I used hypothetical names, but since I have 'outed' my first daughters' real name, I can finally share my REAL name choices with you...

So, here they are:

               For Boys:

Simon Theodore

Edmund Oliver

Elliot Nathaniel

Charles Nathaniel

Alexander Glenn

Nathaniel Glenn

               For Girls

Ingrid Anika

Charlotte Natalie

Sophia Scarlett

Jillian Grace

Audrey Marie

Natalie Joy

I would love to hear what everything thinks of these names, but I do have a few things I'd like people to realize - I LIKE all of these names, they are all potential runner-ups, so please respect that.  ONE of each of these names is already on the top of my list - not that this is a guarantee, however, since we changed Clara's name at the last minute from 'Gwyneth Elena' to 'Clara Faith' which was radically different, but both names were on our list.

The type of information I would like to hear from people is stuff like 'Charles makes me think of the Royal Family' or 'Charlotte makes me think of a spider' and stuff like that.  I know about the royal family, and I know about 'Charlotte's Web' but it's possible I don't know about some pop culture references that might come to mind when you see these names - that is what I'd love to hear.  Also, our last name starts with 'L'.  We are NOT sports people.  We don't watch sports on tv, and we don't play any kind of sports.  Everyone knows this about us.

I had shown our name lists around to many people and had NEVER had anyone mention that Clara Faith L gave her the initials 'CFL' which around here, means 'Canadian Football League' (I think...).  Anyway, on the day she was born and we announced her name, about three people walked into the hospital room saying 'Did you know her initials are CFL?'.   WHAT? This was why we showed you the list! Anyway, I probably wouldn't have changed her name even still, but it would have been nice to know beforehand...

We do have a few possible 'rules' for naming this second child that I'm not entirely certain we will stick to. 

1. I would prefer to not use 'C' as a first initial.  Although it's possible we will only have two kids, I would worry about having a third and either leaving him/her out of the 'name pattern' or desperately trying to find another 'C' name that I really like at the time.

2. I would prefer the name not to rhyme with Clara.  'Sophia' is a bit close to rhyming, but I really like it, so it landed on the list anyway.

Given my list of names, does anyone have any other suggestions for me that you think I might really like? I feel much less confident on my naming choices with this baby than I ever did with Clara.

Last night, I started watching a documentary called 'The Business of Being Born' which is an American commentary on their maternity healthcare system as well as the controversial topic of midwives and homebirths. 

I am Canadian, and although we are similar to the US in many ways, our healthcare system is quite different so much of the documentary wasn't really relevant to my situation and didn't warrant too much energy on my part - that is, I didn't feel the need to fact check because it didn't apply to me anyway.

Before our daughter was born, I had met a few people who had either had home births with midwives, or had gotten a doula involved in the birth of their child and found the idea rather interesting.  My husband and I come from different backgrounds and views here; my parents were slightly older than my husband's parents and more influenced by the 'Hippy' era of the 60's.  My husband's family is much more conservative, and when my husband uses the word 'Hippy', I find it a little offensive.  My husband's response to home births was that he didn't want to be stuck at home with 'some hippy' if something really serious were to go wrong.  I had no strong beliefs about it at the time, and in Canada it is completely free to go into the hospital to have a baby while it would cost us hundreds or even thousands of dollars to get a midwife, so I didn't even bother with discussing it.   Our healthcare system seemed fine, I really liked our OBGYN, and we certainly didn't need to be spending a ton of money on something unneccessary. 

After having my daughter in the hospital, however, my thoughts are a bit different.  Firstly, our OBGYN - who I love - was not on call the day we were brought in to the hospital, so it was another doctor who helped birth our daughter and I wasn't entirely confident I liked the way she handled things.  I would have loved to have had an entirely natural birth - except for maybe the epidural :) - but I was quickly induced for reasons that may or may not have been necessary.  Because I am not an educated medical professional, and have almost always trusted healthcare providers implicitly, I felt that I had no choice but to go along with the choices the doctor was making.  I may not have wanted to choose differently in the end - but because I wasn't given the option, I felt very out of control and confused.

If I knew for certain that a home birth was just as safe as a hospital birth, I can't get over how much more comfortable it would be to be in my own home - with my own music, with my daughter able to be there.  My husband is certain the risks would be too great, and maybe they are.  I have been following the 'Free Range Kids' blog lately, and am a believer that it is better for my kids to take the 0.002% chance that something terrible could happen to them if they are at the park unsupervised for half an hour than to take the 50% chance that they will not learn how to be confident and independent adults if I shelter them too much.  I feel like my husband's argument about 'what if something happens' is similar to over-panicking about that 0.002% chance.  Yes, there is a small chance that something serious could happen and if we're not at the hospital my life, or the life of the baby could be lost.  But there is also the chance that something could go wrong in the hospital.  And, I know from experience that there is a much greater percent chance that I will have an uncomfortable and forced labour and birth - again - if I go to the hospital and put myself at the mercy of the doctors. 

I have certainly not made a decision on this. I have promised my husband that I will not do anything that he is truly uncomfortable with, and I have begged him to consider the same for me.  I also don't have enough knowledge to make an informed decision, and fear that every study and statistic that supports either side of the argument is manipulated to do so. 

My husband wants hard facts and numbers, and ultimately I want something we can both be happy and comfortable with. Is there an answer to this dilemma?

I just read a forum thread that kind of put my mind at ease - one woman commented on how during her third pregnancy, she didn't feel the baby move as soon as she had with her first two.  I remember hearing that you would likely start feeling the baby move between 18 and 20 weeks, and with Clara, I started feeling movement around 17 weeks.

It was so reassuring to feel her moving.  Up until that point, only doctor's appointments and ultrasounds could convince me that everything was 'ok' with her, and I'm still in that stage with this one.

It's been almost 18 weeks, and I may have felt a few small movements here and there - but nothing that I can be certain of, and not enough to convince me beyond all doubt that this baby is alive and kicking! Why do I have to be plagued with so much worry!??!

Anyway, I was reminded again that when the online pregnancy calculators say 'your baby is now 6 inches long', they mean from 'crown to rump'.  Which, if you think about it, is pretty big already!

My eating has gotten somewhat better, although I still have a much smaller appetite at most times of the day than I'd like.  Last night I ate almost nothing of our stir-fry supper and then was craving a McDonald's cheeseburger at 9pm, which my wonderful husband willingly went out to get me.  I felt a little gross after, but I ate the whole thing...

It was three hours before I reminded myself that I needed to eat this morning.  It seems I am finally able to drink coffee again - yay!

I'm looking forward to my next appointment, on June 16th - hopefully that will be the day we find out 'what' this little bugger is!

There! I've said it! After months of calling my daughter 'Celia', I'm beginning to go crazy trying to steer away from name conversations when I LOVE talking about names!!! I was starting to get confused in real life, and was beginning to refer to her as 'Celia' in all text or online contexts.  I would send my Mom a text and she'd be like 'Who?'.  Oh yeah... only on my blog...

Also, although I've been trying to be sensitive to the fact that my kids might grow up to be highly sensitive people and not want their personal information known to the world, I have to realize that they have me for a mother.  Or maybe they have to realize that, but either way, these kids will have no secrets.

So, my daughter's name is Clara.  Clara Faith. 

And here is a bit of her 'naming' story...

Years ago, long before I was pregnant, my husband and I were randomly discussing potential baby names while lying in bed one night.  He suggested we name all of our kids after famous composers.  He is a classical music nut, and we both play the piano, so it was an amusing train of thought.  He started listing names...

Heinrich.... No.

Friedrich.... Frederyk? Freddy? Maybe...

Hans... No.

Carl... No!!! (One of those bad-people-associations)

Johann... No...

Suddenly I said "Wait?? Where are all the girls' names?"  So he continued listing...

Harriet... If you can promise me it will NEVER be shortened to Harry? So, no.

Vittoria... Not really a fan, no.

Camille... My aunt had a cat named Camille once... it was kind of crazy.

Clara...

                  Wait....

                                         I like that!

It's old-fashioned (which is cool now - Sophia, Emma, Olivia, etc.) while not being in the top 100 list (although I've met a lot of little Clara's since, so it's more popular than we thought, which is ok too).

-- How's that for geeky, Mama G? :)

Faith is an important virtue to us, and it sounded good with 'Clara' (we thought, anyway), but we have no great story for that one.

As it happened, we had initially chosen a different name for her, but immediately after she was born we switched her name to Clara Faith.  I'll tell that story in another post...

Yesterday morning, I made play-dough for Celia for the first time.  I found this recipe online...

Ingredients:

• 2 cups flour
• 2 cups warm water
• 1 cup salt
• 2 Tbsp vegetable oil
• 1 Tbsp cream of tartar (optional for improved elasticity)
• Food colouring

Directions:

Add all ingredients except food colouring to a pot, mix together and continue stirring over low heat.  The dough will begin to thicken until it resembles mashed potatoes.  I found that the mixture stayed the same for awhile - I eventually turned up the heat slightly which sped up the process.  Once it started to thicken, I found it thickened quite quickly. 

When the dough pulls away from the sides and clumps in the center, as shown below, remove the pan from heat and allow the dough to cool enough to handle. There was a note in the recipe that said if the dough was still sticky, it needed to cook more.

Then, I took a ball of it and mixed in some liquid food colouring by hand.  I have no pictures of this, because my hands were covered in food colouring!

So, initially I put a clump in front of Celia and gave her a plastic knife to play with and demonstrated how you could cut and make patterns in the dough.  She then asked for a spoon, so I brought her a plastic fork and spoon, thinking she could have fun with those also.  Evidently I didn't catch on that because she was strapped into her booster seat in her usual eating-spot, she assumed this purple goo in front of her was food.  I clearly told her not to eat it, and I know she understands those words, but when she took a bit on her fork and started bringing it toward her face, I decided to let her find out for herself what it tasted like.

She put it in her mouth, made the most hilarious 'this is disgusting' face, and said 'Mmmm!' as if indulging me or attempting to be polite despite the awful taste.  I put my hand below her chin and told her to feel free to spit it out - she did, eventually, but not before she had tried to enjoy it.  Valiant effort. 

Since she was clearly unsure that it was not food, I played with it for awhile 'with' her, demonstrating how to make a little bowl, a banana, a cake and then chopping it into pieces (maybe I should stop with the food references, way to be confusing). "Don't eat it! But LOOK! It's a BANANA!"

She is probably too young yet to really 'get' it.  I finally balled it up and handed it to her, saying 'Look! A Ball!'.  She loved this! Lately she's been quite obsessed with anything spherical - my geeky husband and I who have no knowledge of or experience with sports whatsoever are terrified we are seeing a soccer-kid in the making - and when the playdough was shaped like her favourite toy, she was thrilled.

She grew tired of it quickly even still - too young, me thinks? and it was soon bedtime.  I lumped the three balls of playdough into a margarine container and into the fridge they went.  I'm sure we'll see them again this rainy week.

Celia is my first daughter - my first child - so all of her 'firsts' are incredible and precious.  (I apologize in advance to all of my subsequent children, because this pregnancy has already been much less interesting that her's was, and I presume I'll take some of your growth for granted also - I'm sorry).

I think the milestone that excited me the most was the day she began walking.  And then, the day I realized she was walking more than she was crawling.  This was when I realized that she was really no longer a 'baby', but was now a toddler, and becoming a child.  My BABY was growing up!

Sigh.

Sorry all - I'm fully aware of how annoying Captcha's are, however I just spent 20 minutes deleting over 600 spam comments on my blog so I felt forced to add some sort of protection against them... I'm hoping to install one of those little 'put the shoe in the shopping bag' Captcha's soon, but in the meantime... here's one of those annoying ones.

I just realized this was my 100th Blog Post... and here'd I'd thought I'd do something exciting and special.  Ha!

Here is a link to another Mom Bloggers site that I enjoy.

I read this post and honestly cried because these 'Mom wars' have become quite a personal issue to me lately, and it drives me crazy.  We're on the same team, guys!

I had one of those moments today when I realized that Celia had wandered off and had been contentedly quiet for much too long.  So, I left the kitchen cleaning that I was doing and discovered this:

Here's another view...

I walked in on this scene and immediately said 'Celia, NO!' but instead of handling the situation immediately, I then ran around the house looking for my camera because honestly - I couldn't possibly miss these photos.  As you will note in this second photo, she is reaching for the door under the vanity - she had begun the clean-up process all by herself.

Please note that one of Celia's tiny feet is bare, and the other is wearing a shoe.  She did this herself and refused to let me either remove the shoe she was wearing, or put a shoe on her other foot. Kids are weird. 

Anyway, I proceeded (after I had taken a few photos) to instruct her to clean up the mess, and she happily began to pick up the pieces of toilet paper and throw them in the garbage under the sink.  She was also determined to close the cabinet door between each piece she threw in, which made the process longer, but hey - she was doing it!

We're in the beginning stages of trying to figure out how to discipline her.  She has begun to hit and throw random temper tantrums when she doesn't get her way which makes me think I've dropped the ball somewhere.  When it comes to making messes and cleaning up, however - I find the job of teaching easy.  Especially since I have a kid who seems to love putting 'things' inside of 'other things'. 

Sometimes I will still just put things away after she's gone down for a nap or to bed, because ultimately it's a lot faster and simpler, but often I make her clean up after herself and it seems to be paying off.   On days when I feel like I'm already turning out to be a terrible parent - things like this make me feel like 'at least I'm doing 'something' right!'.

Okay, so this picture has nothing to do with the events of last night, but it's adorable and I wanted to include it.

So last night, I decided to give Celia a bath with bubbles for the first time.  We discovered awhile back that she was a little bit afraid of bubbles, and I didn't really want to push it, but seriously - what kid doesn't like a good bubble bath?!? So I wanted her to learn that they can be fun.

So I filled the tub with water and bubbles.

She doesn't really like baths anyway, but when she looked into the tub and saw the bubbles, she said 'No, no, no...' and tried to run away.

Then I asked her if she wanted Mommy to come with her.  She said yes, but it was still a bit of a struggle to get her undressed.  We both did land in the tub, however, and although she did get a bit more used to the water, she was never entirely comfortable. 

At the end of the bath, I thought it would be nice to 'reward' her by letting her wear a bathrobe that she received when she was born and only now was she big enough to fit into it.  So, I pulled out the robe and put it on her to wear while I was getting myself dressed.  She was thrilled.

She ran to the living room where one of our closets has mirrored doors, and paraded herself in front of it, admiring her new bathrobe. 

As I listened from the other room, I heard my husband's voice say worriedly "Oh, Celia... no..."

Then I heard a loud 'smack!'.

And then I heard Celia cry.

She came running back to me, in horrified tears, as my husband explained that she had peed on the floor, which is when he had spoken her name.  She had then proceeded to try to get away from it, slipping in the liquid in the process and landing directly in it.  She was soaked in pee - and so was her brand new bathrobe. 

She was absolutely devastated when I pulled off the bathrobe, and even more angry when I then put her back in the bathtub, which had not yet been drained.

Worst. Bedtime. Ever.