Along for the ride

8 hour drives are not uncommon in our line of work. In fact, when touring in Canada (and North America in general) the 8 hour drive becomes a bit of a regular commute; Halifax to Montreal, Thunder Bay to Winnipeg, Moose Jaw to Calgary, Golden to Vancouver...we have clocked many kilometres in our 6 years as a band.

I knew that in Annabelle’s first months touring with the band we were going to spend a lot of time in a car, so to prepare her we took a few long drives. We drove regularly from Toronto to Whitby, where my family lives and took a few long trips to Grafton and Picton. Not surprisingly, she, like many babies, was lulled to sleep as soon as the car started moving. It makes for a lovely and peaceful trip (I am knocking wood as I write this).

Then we put all that practice into, well practice.

Annabelle tells me how she really feels about being in the car. Again.

Our first experience with a long drive was a few weeks ago, when we headed to Chicago for a show at the Fermilab* in Batavia, IL. We decided to drive to save some money on flights. Colin and I left the afternoon before the show, a few hours ahead of the rest of the band, to break the drive into two days and to land early-ish for the night. We wanted to stop in good time for Annabelle to have an evening routine. Bath, feed, sleep (not always in that order).

The drive down was pretty uneventful – by breaking the 8 hour drive into two chunks, we were able to arrive in good time and without many stops. The return trip was a bit of a different story. On our way home, we resigned ourselves to the fact that our drive was going to take the whole day. 8 hours became 12. Not including the time change.

She slept (no surprise there). Deeply. So deeply that she slept clear through a feeding time (my feeding vessels weren’t forgetting...um, ouch!). This is something we have to keep track of; if we’re not careful she will sleep for the better part of a day. And let me tell you, it’s tempting for us to buckle down and keep driving to get just a bit further (always just a bit further), but it’s important to get her out of her car seat and moving, even for just a half an hour.

Our adoring audience in Batavia

I have learned that we have to build in time. LOTS OF TIME. I have come to accept that this is the new normal, and am learning to take advantage of these breaks too.

Some other things that I’m learning:

1.       Annie-B is a teenager in a baby’s body. When we wake her prematurely she gets her crank on. Best to let her wake up slowly, at her own pace. The best way to do this is to stop the car, take her out of the car and let her stretch out. Then wait for the hunger cry!

2.       Sometimes it makes sense to pump (I am such a mammal) in the car, and feed her on the go. Then our next stop is for a change and a stretch only. I don’t love this option, but it works in a pinch.

3.       We are still trying to figure out the best places to stop. We tried a few different scenarios on that first trip – the coffee shop, where I fed her comfortably on a leather chair while my hubby ordered coffees and sandwiches (noisy); a booth in a restaurant, ordering food (expensive); the backseat of the car (a pain in the ass for so many reasons, but necessary – more to follow); a grocery store (inexpensive, but awkward). Still haven’t found a perfect option, but I’m leaning toward the coffee shop, which usually boasts a change table and comfy chairs.

Annie-B and I take a break for refuelling (both of us)

4.       Having her sleep all day means that she is more likely to be up all night. There’s no regular napping schedule (actually there is no schedule at all), and she doesn’t get tired out wiggling during tummy time or kicking like a madwoman. By stopping, we can help avoid this.

5.       Changing diapers in the backseat of a car sucks.

There are some particularly ridiculous moments on the road that make me question what I am doing. The things I put this poor baby through! Feeding her on the floor of the handicap stall at a Kroeger’s in middle America, sitting on her travel change pad and cooing self-consciously as ladies come in to use the washroom; feeding her in the dark of the car at night for some privacy as a car ahead shines its’ high beams directly on my exposed bosom; changing her diaper in the cold backseat after it exploded on my lap (playing limbo in a tiny compact car); running around to find a pharmacy because I forgot the nipple of her bottle at home (GAH!!!). Guilty Mom moments #829, 830, 831, and 832. And she’s only 3 months old. There are so many more to come.

We have had some other driving experiences, for shows in Southern Ontario, close enough to head home at the end of the night. We have learned that it makes most sense to get her ready for bed at the venue. That way, when we leave at 11pm, she falls asleep for the night, waking only for a diaper change once we get home. Into the crib, and sound asleep.

I am constantly reminded by other parents that we are very lucky to have a little one that sleeps. I feel guilty about that too; I will readily admit that I am living in a little bubble – tired more from my own schedule than hers. She lets me sleep each night, and is not very fussy. If we had been dealt a baby with colic (again, touching wood), all this early touring would be very very tough. Travelling with an infant is not easy, but she makes it as easy as it can be.

Thank you baby.

‘Til next time.

Caroline

This is how we feel about you reading our blog. Thank you!

*I had no idea of what the Fermilab was before we got there. It’s a research centre for the U.S. Department of Energy, the home of the first atom smasher - for you DaVinci code fans, it predates CERN (yes, I just referenced a cheesy bestseller rather than hard science. Don't judge me.). We played in a theatre located above a 4.5 mile network of underground tunnels. As I belted out Mele Kalikimaka, I started thinking of what was going on beneath the stage. YIKES! Find out more about the Fermilab here.

Bon Voyage, Baby.

The first leg of the Good Lovelies Christmas tour is complete. Three flights in three days, four hours of driving, two shows and LOTS of waiting around. Before getting into the details of how things went, I must say that I gave birth to the Angel Baby herself. This cherub is so peaceful and well-behaved it disgusts me. The worse she did on tour was poop on my pants. Read on if you will, but that's the gist right there.

Airplane Burping.

The Lead Up
If you have been a regular reader of my blog, you'll know that I have had no shortage of anxiety leading up to Annie's first tour. I've been bringing her to shows, expressing milk, taking her on car trips - all in an effort to insulate her against the road. I also called and emailed people who have travelled with infants, particularly musicians who live that nomadic venue to venue lifestyle. Everyone had great advice, and it was incredible to carry that with me.

I must say this: it's never taken me so long to pack a bag before. For my own travel, I have packing down to a science, but planning for a baby on tour was a whole new thing. How many diapers do I pack? (answer: more than you think you need), how many sleepers? (same), blankets?, what should the first aid kit comprise? Would I need formula if pumping didn't work out?

Let's just say, that for two nights away I had enough clothing/diapers/etc. for quintuplets. Her stuff took up the greater part of my suitcase.

The Airport Experience
We gave ourselves ample time to get to the airport on a Friday morning. However, 401 traffic was so bad (surprise), that we ended up arriving at YYZ a full half an hour later than expected. My heart was about to explode. The rest of the band was waiting patiently when we arrived, and Sue had filled out our customs cards to calm my heart rate and get us in the snaking Terminal 1 customs line faster.

Annabelle's passport photo is possibly the worst photo taken of a baby EVER. So bad that Colin won't allow me to post it online. I hope to break him someday - it is so hysterically bad that I guffaw each time I look at it. In fact, throughout the weekend it became a talking point, starting with the officer at U.S. customs assuring me that my baby is much cuter in real life. If you saw this picture you'd realize that's not saying much.

Going through security gave me insight into a big benefit of travelling with babies; preferential treatment. Basically they're thinking "Okay crazy, you're going to travel with your kids? Well here, go to the front of this line. No, no it's the least we can do" - *snickers behind back*.  We got in line for security and were through within 5 minutes: I held her, walked through the metal detector and voila, done. I know that it's not always going to be that easy but I'm going to pretend it is.

Annie slept through the entire thing.

Wise beyond her years, Annie's attitude toward being on the road.

The Flights
She slept, and all my concerns about ears popping and pressure and screaming were waylaid. Although at one point we experienced a major diaper breach on take off (lesson learned: I should always pack a second pair of pants). When we realized the pilot wasn't going to switch off the seatbelt light for the short flight, we performed a stealthy in-seat diaper change, much to our fellow passengers' chagrin.


The "Nanny"
As Colin couldn't make it this weekend, my Mom, Joy, came along for the first trip. She was fantastic and so easygoing. She also helped me keep track of all my things - a challenge for me even before baby. Add to my regular scatterbrain a baby's things...Annabelle's blankets and bottles are already scattered across Southern Ontario...

It is not easy to fit oneself into the touring life and habits of a band that has been doing things a particular way for years.  She is also incredible with babies (obviously, look how I turned out haha!). I had complete trust walking onstage and leaving Annabelle in her arms.

Annabelle with Mama on our Delta flight home

Backstage
We spend alot of time backstage. Particularly when the hotel is not close enough to the venue to warrant returning after soundcheck and before the show. It's pretty important, even without a baby, that the backstage space be liveable and comfortable. For the most part, Friday night's green room fulfilled our needs - there was a kitchen and washroom readily available, and a room with a couch.

Saturday night's "green room", however, left something to be desired. Aside from the colour of the paint it was no green room. We showed up on time, to find out that our soundcheck had been cancelled and that we'd be doing a line check before the show started instead...in 3.5 hours. The venue was already teeming with people taking part in the day's festivities. I asked whether there was a room for us to hang out in, and the promoter looked at me blankly. I motioned to my Mom, holding the baby, and our piles of gear. He quickly said he'd see what he could do. We ended up spending the evening in a glorified classroom, fighting throngs of people to use a public washroom.

In order to stretch out, I took the foam inserts from my electric guitar case and laid them out on the floor. Annabelle and I had a little nap and a feed and hung out in a corner of the room for awhile. This photo makes it seem much more romantic than it was.

I will admit the situation felt a bit desperate at moments. Nowhere to go, stuck in a terribly lit room with an exhaust fan squealing for hours on end, with throngs of people just outside the door. I am learning that Annabelle needs a peaceful, dimly-lit space to hang out (me too!). Our home environment is pretty calm and lacks overhead lighting. It's nice to try to recreate that cozy feeling for her to keep her content.

There are a few reasons it may also benefit the band to have a second room for the baby. First, she's very distracting - like a fire - and we all tend to stare at her and get lost (not necessarily a bad thing!). Second, It would also be nice for me to have a private space to feed her or express milk before the show. And finally, I think it will be important to just be a band sometimes, just the four of us if possible. I am highly conscious of giving everyone enough space.

Annabelle fist pumps at the end of a pre-show meal.

The Shows
It is so good to be back onstage with my girls (no I am not talking about my breasts). It really was like riding a bike, despite being thrown back into the Christmas catalogue. And despite my anxiety of being away from Annie and wondering whether she would have enough food, I was able to step up to the mic and let a lot of that go.

The first show of the weekend consisted of two 45 minute sets. I pumped about 4 oz that day to have enough for Annie to eat during the show if she got hungry. Mom tells me that she fussed through the second set. It didn't seem to be hunger as she ate most of the bottle of milk. Our sense was that she was overwhelmed by the situation; she was cranky up until I got her back to the hotel room and lowered the lights. Instant calm.

Our show on Saturday night was one hour set and I fed her before the show and as soon as I could get back to her. I preferred this to the double set, mostly because I like the closeness of breastfeeding. There is something very calming about it, unless she's trying to push away my "hooter hider" to see what's going on in the room; here I am trying for modesty and the kid is looking to show off the goods.

Homeward
Coming home has even more sweetness when you're bone tired and headed to your sweetheart and a warm bed. This time was no exception, and especially sweet given the reunion between Colin and Annie. I'll leave it there. A rather easy first tour for baby, and now we get in the car for a few dates, one to Chicago and two in Toronto. I rather hope she's getting the hang of it.

Til next time,
Caroline

Band-aid in Training!

In an effort to broaden Annabelle's aural palette (and quite frankly for me to enjoy some live music), I brought her to see my lovely friend Jenn Grant play at Toronto's Winter Garden theatre on Saturday night.

The beautiful Jenn Grant and I (and Annabelle's head).

My friend Yvonne joined us, and we decided to avoid downtown traffic by taking transit. By ditching the car, we'd be able to get off at Queen station (just steps away from the theatre) and avoid parking and lugging a heavy car seat through Toronto streets (and up the hundreds of steps of the Winter Garden). These days, I am finding it easier to travel with her in her body carrier; it keeps her calm and warm and close to me. I own a Bamboo Mama sling, made right here in Canada. They are beautiful, well-made, and I use mine everyday - they come highly recommended!

I am ashamed to admit that this was the first time I have taken Annabelle on the TTC. I can sense the disappointment of my fellow environmental studies classmates...please don't judge me guys! Until Saturday, I have always talked myself out of riding the "Rocket" (I use this term loosely and with great affection) for fear of running into an emergency. Having the car and the car seat at hand has seemed like insurance in case I needed to get somewhere fast.

While the trip down to the show was uneventful, we rode home at the height of drunken T.O. Saturday night. I became a bit of a Mama-Bear, worried about the swaying drunk teenagers hanging from the holy-shit handles on the subway car. I was seriously ready to slap anyone who got near her; I had my hackles up. I felt like a 'roid-enraged Flo-Jo at the finish line. At least it wasn't the 3 am Bathurst vomit-comet, but still - I felt guilty for exposing her to that (Guilty Mom moment #537, and she's only 8 weeks old).

The show was amazing. And at times LOUD - especially when the fantastic band Cuff the Duke took the stage after Jenn (who put on a beautiful show). It was a chance for me to try out Annabelle's protective headphones.

Annie-B: "What the hell are you doing to me now!?"

Let's just say she was unimpressed.

This was my first real attempt to have her wear them. They block out harmful frequencies, and cut volume drastically. But they're also pretty tight and heavy; hard work for a baby with a soft skull and weak neck muscles (we took breaks quite frequently to give her head a rest). I was slightly worried that they would squish her soft spot and kept checking to see if it was bulging in any way (is this me being crazy?!). Her head still seems to be approximately the same shape as before, so I think it was okay.

Annie started to get fussy after Cuff the Duke's first song, so I brought her out to the lobby for a quiet feed. The fussing continued, so Yvonne suggested that I put her into her carrier and bring her back into the show. That seemed to do the trick; with her against my body, she relaxed enough for us both to enjoy the rest of the set, swaying and dancing on the balcony at the back of the theatre. She stared in awe at the lights. To be honest, I don't even think she noticed her headphones anymore. SUCCESS!

One thing I have noticed, since travelling around with a baby, is the lack of changing facilities in most public washrooms. Not that I would expect a venue like the Winter Garden to have a change table (I don't think they're really encouraging people to bring their fussy babies to shows...), but there is that fun challenge of finding a clean and inoffensive and not-so-public place to change a baby. I wiped off a space on the sink of the women's washroom this time, but have been known to have to change a baby on the floor of public washrooms. It's icky, but it's poop that I am cleaning after all, and that's icky stuff in itself.

Yvonne entertaining Annie (and herself) in the ladies room.

So, mission accomplished. Baby's first (folk) rock concert! "Band-aid" in training! My little groupie! Note: I even dressed her in little hipster jeans for the show.

Next adventure: this Friday, as Annabelle hits 9 weeks, we head off on our first tour - to Monroe, WI and Detroit, MI with the Good Lovelies (such exotic destinations, right!?). The big question now: how does she handle life on the road?

I will admit I am having some sleeplessness worrying about Annie's aptitude for the road (my teeth are sore from midnight gnashing and I've been dreaming in full technicolor this week). And while worrying won't get us there, it's certainly preparing me for all kinds of situations. Fingers crossed.

Til' next time,

Caroline

Pump it Up!

Last week marked a new stage in my very new motherhood: I successfully pumped my first ounces of breastmilk! I DID IT! I put that machine to my boob and it sucked out the milk and then I fed it to my baby. It was AWESOME. And then I texted my husband, sister and mom the picture of the expressed milk, to their great delight (see below). And the next day, out to dinner for my Mom's birthday, I pulled out that little bottle of milk and joyfully clinked my family's wine glasses, exclaiming "Cheers!" The other restaurant patrons sent a few funny looks my way, but I could have cared less. I was so proud.

Proof is in the pumping. Cheers! 

For those of you who have been following my blog, you'll know why the matter of pumping has become so important. I had developed a little phobia of that machine, staring at it gathering dust in the corner of my room. Each time I looked at it, I pictured myself in a lineup of women strapped into breast pumps, like lactating cows. I already felt like a milk machine and this wasn't helping.  But there was really no way around it; with two weeks to go before our first tour with Annie and the Good Lovelies, I knew I had to start pumping, and the sooner the better. I wanted her to get used to the bottle experience and being fed by others, so I bit the bullet.

After finding success with the pump, I feel now way more prepared to get onstage. Knowing that baby will have food on hand while I am preparing for a show, performing, and visiting with fans is going to give me such peace of mind. I will be able to concentrate on the show itself, without worrying about her going hungry. That's one large worry in a long list taken care of.

There are many reasons why being able to pump is awesome. Here are some of them:

1. Freedom.
It sounds a bit selfish, but there are moments that I really feel the need to walk away. Or run. In fact, being able now to go for a run in the evening, or out for a couple of hours with friends without worry is extremely liberating. This leads me to my second point:

2. Fear of depriving the baby
I have been dreaming regularly, since Annie's birth, that I'm on tour, and that I've left the baby at home. In these dreams, sometime before soundcheck I realize that Annabelle is not with me, and I try frantically to find my way home, abandoning the tour. There are never any flights or trains or busses cars to get me there, and she ends up going hungry.* I wake in a sweat, and shove my boob in her mouth, feeling like a very guilty Mom.

*I know there are alternatives to breastmilk, but for some reason this never figures in my dreams.

3. Modesty.
I am all for public breastfeeding, and love that women do it. I, however, have not mastered feeding behind the veil; I have to see her to feed her. I cannot do this blindly like other magician women, which means that in order to feed Annabelle, I would be exposing myself in public. So, thank you pump for keeping my breasts semi-private.

4. Sharing the experience
Feeding a baby is a powerful bonding experience and I'm so happy that Colin can feed Annie now. Although I'll admit I was a bit sad the first time he fed her - I felt a little jealous of that bottle, wincing in pain at my engorged bosom.

It's Dad's turn. This was Annie's first bottlefeed.

Needless to say, all of this has been a huge learning curve. The women in my life have been invaluable to the process (there has got to be a blog about maternal knowledge in there somewhere). Briefly, here are some of my favourite "pumping" tips, submitted to me by female friends and family:

1. Relax and be patient.
2. Look at your baby when you pump. Or alternatively at a picture of your baby (part of me thinks this is hilarious, but it seems to work).
3. Record your baby crying and listen to it while you pump (also funny, haven't tried it, don't think I will).
4. Have the baby nurse on one side while you pump the other.
5. Pump in your comfy spot. Or as Happy Gilmore would say, "go to your happy place".
6. Try pumping during the baby's "downtime", when there will be time for your milk to replenish its' stock for the next feed (i.e. during a long afternoon nap, if there is such a thing).
7. Don't pump too much; classic supply and demand - the markers of capitalism. And we all realize that the free-enterprise system is faulty at 7 am when your baby has slept through the night and you are spraying milk everywhere.
8. Understand milk storage - Dr. Sears's guide to pumping, transporting and storing is the best that I've found online. Check it out here.
9. It's going to hurt, and you may get hickeys on your nipples, so take it easy at first (this is my own advice, I found out the hard way).
10. And finally, my favourite: sit down with a good book and a glass of wine and giv'er.

So with all this great maternal knowledge, I have started a stockpile, trying to pump a bit everyday to have extra meals in the fridge/freezer in case of emergency date night or band rehearsals. Speaking of which, we have started practicing for our Christmas show which starts in Wisconsin on November 30th. Annabelle was so good - only fussing a few times, and breaking once for a meal. She fed as we worked on Sue's new winter song entitled "Ancient Forest". It was a peaceful experience, feeding my babe and singing with my best friends. I hope she felt the same.

For dates, check out www.goodlovelies.com. Hope to see you there. Annie and I would be happy to "Cheers" you too!!

GL Christmas rehearsal, Nov. 2012. Photo credit: Kerri Ough

Til next time,

Caroline

The Teenage Years

In the last couple weeks, I've been delving into some reading and television that's got me thinking about my teenage years. Those days of junior high and high school; days of dodgeball and sloppy kissing, unwanted hair and the want of breasts, social politics, cliques, gangly knees and self-consciousness, self-discovery, dread and anticipation, and the odd pop quiz.

Thinking about all of this has new weight because of my baby. Annabelle, at 5 1/2 weeks, is sitting in her little pink chair in the kitchen, and I'm already wondering what she's going to be like as a teen - treading the scary waters of online flirting and bullying and delving into teenage social politics. Will this cherubic sweetheart turn into a pissy hormonal teenager? Most definitely. Will she be awkward, a social butterfly, nerdy, studious, shy. a dreamer, or (most importantly) confident? Who knows...Thankfully I have a few years to prepare for all this. At least 12 years I hope.

Overall, my high school years were great, but junior high sucked the bag. I was forced into getting a bra, not because I was growing anything in the chest region, but because the boys in my class had taken to snapping bra straps. I broke down the day my flat-chested self was humiliated when one of my "male" (I use this term lightly) classmates went to snap my bra but found nothing there. That was it. Off to the Bay with my Mom to find a training bra. That poor bra had no work to do, aside from being submitted to the odd strap-snap. I tell you, I'd be happy to donate a few breast sizes to my 13 year old self. My nursing bras are working overtime.

I have been watching Freaks & Geeks (a great show about high school in the early '80's) and I was struck by the episode where Sam and his friends, as grade nine students, decide to go out trick or treating one last time. This, to me too, defined the straddling of childhood and being a teenager; I was desperately hanging on to the innocence of being a kid, but fully aware that I was an imposter. I was pretending to be someone I wasn't. This came to a head when the lady at the end of Hillcrest Dr. in Whitby, Ontario turned me away because I was too old. I waddled home (I was dressed as a chicken, it was a wicked costume), with my head hanging and a pillowcase full of candy. I felt like I had stolen it from the little kids.

In conversations with friends (even those who had positive experiences), I have found that very few would go back to high school if they had the chance. I agree completely. Even with my great group of friends - nerdy, goofy types who shied away from the smoker's circle, and who got drunk together for the first time with their parents' permission at 18 (seriously, my Mom bought rum that day for me). Even with the tiara I scored as prom queen (seriously, my high school was tiny, this is not impressive); Even with the decent academic record - I wouldn't go back. Not a chance. And it wasn't terrible for me, but I prefer my current life. Even with a screaming baby at 3 am.

I have also been reading How to be a Woman by Caitlin Moran. She writes brilliantly about her life through the lens of Feminism. This book is insightful, intelligent, cringeworthy, and hilarious. She lays it all out there - the terrible and wonderful process of becoming a woman, and what we, as women, have to deal with; the bleeding, the breasts, the intense crushes, the glass ceiling, childbirth, sexism, daily hair removal, sexual objectification... All these things that my little Annabelle has to look forward to. It's a gritty book, and Moran doesn't mince words. It's totally refreshing, and I wish I'd read it at 14.

My father said to me recently that he's glad that we had a girl first, that they are easier to raise than boys. I have talked to other parents about this, and many of them agree that while girls are easier to raise as children, they are much more difficult as teenagers. As teens, they become a tempest of hormones right before your eyes, and subject you to years worrying about teenage pregnancy.  I hope that like Moran, I won't mince words with Annie; that I will be able to speak frankly with her about sexuality and life as a woman. It will likely make her uncomfortable as hell, and she will emit the compulsory "MOMMMM, EWWWW, DON'T TALK ABOUT THAT!" - but at least it'll be honest.

I hope after all that embarrassment she'll still want to be in my band.

Til next time,

Caroline

Whose baby is screaming at the back of the bar?

Um, it was mine.

I played a rare solo set at the Cameron House in Toronto last night, opening for the sweet-voiced Bryden Smith. It was a last minute affair - I had expected to sing back up for a friend, but ended up taking over his set as he couldn't make the show. So, my husband Colin and I bundled up the baby and headed down to my fave Toronto haunt.

Baby doesn't like stout!

Before we left the house, I fed Annie, hoping that she'd be content through soundcheck. The "plan" was to feed her again right before the show so that she'd sit pretty while I sang a bunch of new tunes to a mostly unfamiliar audience.

Well, suffice it to say that my plan failed. ROYALLY. What I didn't account for was A) her regular evening cluster feeding (Mom, I want to eat every hour!) and B) what Colin affectionately calls "musician" time. After a few years of playing festivals and theatres with the Good Lovelies, I've become accustomed to shows starting on time. I forgot that in dimly-lit bars, tipsy people can't see their watches - so the music starts when the room is full enough to warrant it. That time warp is strong at the Cameron. I usually love it. Not last night.

She wailed as Bryden sound checked 45 minutes later than expected. So, I ushered her into the bathroom, sat on a toilet seat and fed her, the Mom-guilt swelling in my chest. So it begins.

The feed was cut short as it was my turn to soundcheck (ahem, read: line check) and she wailed through that too, this time at the back of the room. My husband then decided that he'd take her out to our car and try to distract her during the set, which was supposed to start right away.

Musician time then struck again - my set was delayed a further 15 minutes. With this news, I ran (literally) out to the car to feed her some more, and as streetcars, cyclists and late-night shoppers passed by all I could think of was how happy I am that our Honda Fit has tinted windows. (Colin: I questioned you on this one. I take it back. I love you. Thank you for helping me to maintain some modesty.)

This calmed her down somewhat, but had entirely the opposite effect on me. I anxiously ran back in to the bar, jumped (literally) onstage, blew through my set (which went surprisingly well), packed up in a jiffy, sold some CDs and ran back out to the car to keep feeding her. It is all a blur now - I think I may even have free-styled some lyrics about my boobs leaking during the show. Mostly, I just felt so guilty about the whole thing. Poor sweet little Annabelle (although a friend pointed out today that she'll never remember any of it, I will).

All this makes me accept that I MUST learn to pump. I've been putting it off. The sight alone of my breast pump makes me squeamish. The two times I've tried to use it I literally had to look away, as if I were getting a needle or witnessing an accident. Ugh. For God's sakes - I made it through childbirth (though blind I admit)...I should be able to handle a little pumpin'!

After all that crying I thought Annabelle would sleep through the night, which she has done once in her 5 weeks of life. Alas, no luck last night - as she woke at 3 am for her first feed of the night, I remembered how much performing wipes me out. I dragged myself out of bed for her early morning feed, three hours after we'd fallen asleep. It was tough, but I was so thankful that she had put up with me. And I'm grateful that I can do what I do.

So, that was an adventure. Annie has found her lungs.

'Til next time,

CB

The 5 am feed

Annabelle is one month old this week, and we are finally settling into a routine. This infant still feels like a dream; she allows me to blog, to write in my journal, and today we shot a VLOG with CBC Kids' Mamma Yamma (They are posted every two weeks here and they are hysterical!). Well, Annabelle barely peeped throughout the shoot. In fact she slept through most of it.

Annabelle & Mamma Yamma

Yesterday I also wrote a new song with her at my side - my first since her arrival. I realize that this productivity will likely decrease as she starts to spend more of our days awake and alert, but for now I'm feeling pretty good about bringing her on the road.


Still, some of our routines are completely incompatible with the touring schedule. For example, she loves to cluster feed between 7 and 11 pm, the exact hours that I'll be onstage in a month's time. If I were to play a show tomorrow night, we'd all be dealing with a screaming hungry bear backstage. But, really, how do you change a baby's feeding pattern without witholding? Advice, fellow Moms? I feel terrible watching her cry and grunt from hunger. Mostly because I know how HANGRY I get. When my blood sugar plummets, I kick and scream too! Being hungry is the worst.

We also know that if she's napped too much during the day  (okay, it's more sleeping like the dead), that I'm going to pay for it in the wee hours. As of 7pm, if she's still sleeping, Colin and I start the mean-spirited and selfish Annie-B wake-up call. We'll spend the next 30-60 minutes slowly stripping her down to her diaper, blowing on her face, and tickling her into a crank. She is (especially) not fond of the beard rub, but face it honey: sometimes it just has to be done. It's your sleep or mine. And I'm your Mom, so you have to listen to me (at least until the hormones kick in).

The one standard routine since her birth has been the 4-5 am feed. Before Annie (B.A.), this was always the loneliest time of day for me - those few hours during which most people have gone to sleep after a late night or are still sleeping before an early wakeup.  It's strange to be up then, checking twitter (my overseas friends in full-morning swing), reading "How to be a Woman",  writing this blog, and watching inane youtube videos (like this one! And this one!). However, with Annabelle now, 5 am is no longer so lonely.

I have to remind myself while I'm nursing that it's okay not to "do" anything - to just feed her, daydream, or more importantly, stare at her sweet cherub face and into her increasingly focussed eyes. There's really, at the end of the day, nothing more productive than feeding her, fattening her up, and giving her a good start. I can feel her getting bigger, and that's the most important and productive thing I can be doing right now.

Til next time,

CB

As an aside, I went on my first post-baby run yesterday. It felt so good to move again, and to be alone for half an hour. Thanks to my Mother-in-law who held a sleepy little Annie (surprise), I had nothing to worry about other than getting one foot in front of the other.

Getting There

Baby and the Blog

 Annabelle and I went to attend and play our first Good Lovelies show last Friday at the Delta in Mississauga. We played a 40 minute set in the afternoon at the Ontario Council of Folk Festivals conference.

It felt so good to be onstage with the Lovelies again. Our last show together was over two months ago, the longest amount of time we've gone without performing since the band started. We jumped onstage without rehearsing and without a set list - winging it - and after our first song "Mrs. T.", my Dad yelled from the back of the room "like riding a bike, eh girls?". Indeed.

My parents met me in Mississauga to watch Annabelle while we played our set (have I mentioned how much I love Joy & Fred Brooks?). I was intrigued to see how she would react to hearing our three voices in harmony after spending so much time with us on the road and onstage in the last year. Part of me was expecting cooing, smiles - some kind of expression of recognition. Well, my Mom tells me she slept through the whole thing. So that's how it's going to be, eh Annie-B? She is so unfazed by the music, she can sleep through it all.



The Good Lovelies, conferencing it up. Photo by Mike Bourgeault

 The challenge, as it turns out, was not playing the show itself (mind you it was a short one), but rather the getting there. Let me capitalize that - GETTING THERE. Annie has so far been a very good baby, so in general I don't worry about taking her places, getting her fed in public, etc; it's leaving the house that I find most challenging, particularly when I am rushing. I sense that babies can feel distress, and my little Annie shares my stress by puking on her clean outfits, usually moments after she's been strapped into her car seat, and wrapped up in blankets. So out she comes, strip her down, new onesie (aside - any freaking sleeper with more than 8 snaps is a shit show), clean her up, strap her in. Then, minutes later, because she has barfed up all her milk, she is hungry again. Last Friday, this groundhog day experience meant that we arrived at the OCFF within 20 minutes of our set. Gone the days of skipping out the door...

I have joked about advice in other posts, but truth be told, I'm finding it very useful. A friend recently told me that I should always plan to leave an hour before I NEED to. Check.

These days it is very rare for us to leave the house before noon. Annabelle and I linger in bed, take our time with the morning feed,  and Mommy drinks a good coffee before appearing in public. I am enjoying this pace now, as the days of 6 am flights to Minnesota or Seattle or Edmonton for shows are coming fast. Dear Lord.

In preparation for that time, I have been taking Annabelle on daily adventures; coffee with friends (oh how easily old addictions are reestablished!); visits with grandparents; a parade at Daddy's work; snuggles with the ladies at Six Shooter Records. Next week we will attend a couple of shows in my fave Toronto haunts. Fingers crossed!

All of this has me excited about our future together as travelling partners, although this is said before she can even roll over. Check back with me when she is crawling, then wobbling, then walking and running away from me.

Til next time,
CB

ps. I have decided that she will begin her instruction in upright bass as soon as her hands are big enough to wrap around the neck of one. I have dreams of duo shows with Annabelle already. Poor little girl is going to have to put up with the music of her uncool folky Mom. HA HA HA!

Two weeks in.

Tomorrow Annabelle is two weeks old. Here are thirteen things I've learned after my first few weeks of Motherhood:

1. I love this little girl more than I ever thought possible.
2. Baby poop and spit-up is not so gross - at least not yet.
3. "I am leaking" has become a regular part of my vocabulary.
4. I thought my reading days were over. As it turns out, I am devouring books while breastfeeding.
5. My baby sleeps. Other parents hate me because of this.
6. People have a lot of advice. My sister-in-law's best advice: "Don't listen to people's advice".
7. I squeezed a baby out of my lady junk; it still hurts.
8. Though really cute, sometimes my baby looks like E.T.
9. Skin-on-skin may be the most blissfully peaceful thing I have ever experienced.
10. My nipples really frigging hurt.
11. I get why people want to cuddle their babies while sleeping.
12. It is not "cluster feeding," it's "cluster fucked."
13. Holy shit, I'm someone's Mom. Where are my pleated jeans?!

At 8 days old, Annabelle experienced her first hotel overnight. And in the hot stuffy room, she slept a good 9 hours, with one feed in the middle of the night. What a little rockstar. Revelling in cableland, we watched Aliens until the wee hours (my husband noting that it is better than the original, and may be the best sequel of all time, aside from Empire Strikes Back, and certainly better than Ghostbusters 2). She even slept through that scene where the woman is still alive, and the Alien pops out of her stomach. I squealed, Annie sighed and kept sleeping.

Tomorrow we head off to our first show. My bandmates, Kerri & Sue, are mentoring at the Ontario Council of Folk Festivals annual conference. They're showing some young ambitious musicians the ropes - sharing their experience in performance and the music business with newbies to the scene. As part of their role, they are asked to give a performance, and I'm going to sneak in and do some Good Lovelies tunes with them. I am really really excited about getting onstage. It's been over a month now since we've done a show, and I can't wait to get my cowboy boots on. I'm also very excited to see how Annabelle reacts to us all singing together. She'll be experiencing our harmonies outside of the womb for the first time.

Our early baby-prepping for the road has meant lots of hot-potato-ing with family and friends (Thanksgiving helped with that); getting her used to different environments (IKEA, grocery stores, walks in Toronto ravines, etc.); having her sleep in very noisy situations (yesterday she slept through 3 fire alarms. Not just three separate alarms, but three alarms going off simultaneously... long story.); putting her to bed at midnight, and getting her up around 9 or 10; going on road trips; and ambushing her with kisses! Well, that last one doesn't have anything to do with the road - I just like doing that.

She's a dream so far. I hesitate to write this, as she will probably become some kind of nightmare child who never eats greens or terrible teen who stays out too late and makes out in the basement with boys (or girls if that's what she wants). I keep reminding myself that her good nature may take a turn for the worse...

Okay I must go now - off to do piles of laundry. That's another insight I suppose. There must be some mathematical equation to calculate the exponential growth of laundry piles due to babies. It's not like there's just one extra person living with us now. It's like I'm doing the laundry of two adults and fourteen dirty little gnomes.

Til next time,

CB

Welcome Baby Annabelle

Well, she's here. And she's beautiful. And I am so in love with her.

Annabelle at 16 hours. Photo Credit: Kerri Ough

Annabelle Patti Brooks Love was born one week ago today, in the early morning hours of September 28th, 2012, clocking in at 7 lbs and 20.7 inches. From the moment she arrived, I have felt that I've known her my whole life. And still, everyday is a new experience. So begins that duality of time - where it feels like forever and no time at all. One week has passed so quickly. But it's like Annie-B's been here all along.

As I write this, my sweetheart is sleeping on our quilted bed. We are pooched from our first adventures from home - today to IKEA to buy bedstands (and other useless stuff that will clutter up our home), yesterday to the Stockyards for a greasy lunch, and the day before to Loblaws. These little jaunts are fraught with preparation: do we have enough diapers? What time did she last feed? Will there be somewhere I can breastfeed privately if she gets hungry? What if she craps all over the place? Will people be annoyed if she cries? There's a certain amount of letting go necessary to stay sane in all of this...Patient Mom I hope to be. These are still early days.

Seriously, if you've never had a burger from the Stockyards on St. Clair, you are missing out. See how much Annie-B loves her burger?!

Friends and family, as expected, have been wonderful. Our fridge and freezer is stocked with food, and so many have come to snuggle the girl and shower her with gifts. My Mom also came to stay for our first few days home to show us the ropes. Her approach was perfect - keeping our kitchen clean and preparing food so that we would have time to figure out how to do all of this on our own. Her guidance was there when needed (often). I love my Mom.

I can feel my body slowly putting itself back together. Recovery has been good, but harder than I expected; my insides knitting themselves after 21 hours of labour. Childbirth, from this vantage, almost seems an impossible thing - and still billions of women have done it before. But it's done. I have had a couple of my nightmares come true - stitches in places that should never have stitches (!!!) and swelling in many places that should not swell. I will spare you the gory details, and blame it on nature. My body is no longer my own but thankfully our pain memory is short.

Our first week has been completely blissful. We are tired, but so thankful (even with the stitches and swelling and 20-odd hours of labour - totally worth it). For now it's all bliss and skin-to-skin and staring at our little Annabelle. I will leave it at that today, I'd like to join my love for a nap.

Lady in Wait.

No great surprise: my due date has come and gone. In the last few weeks I've had an inkling that this little baby is perfectly happy in it's warm jelly orb, and unlikely to come on time. Other reasons for it to lolly-gag: my bags were simply packed too early, the nursery has been ready for a month, and we finished all of our pre-natal classes weeks ago.

After a visit with my doctor yesterday, she confirmed it. In her words - she'd be "extremely surprised" if baby came before next week. My sister Katie joked that it must be a girl because she is already very stubborn. Either way, baby Brooks-Love is snug as a bug.

This is an exercise in letting go. I had not made any plans this week (a rarity for me) and have so much free time I don't know what to do with myself. I find it extremely difficult to sit still and have been wandering the hall (there's only one) of my house looking for things to do, calling friends, going for walks and making plans (this afternoon I head to the studio with the Good Lovelies, Kerri & Sue to record vocals on Oh Susanna's new record. Why the hell not?).

It's also a good wake up call. Baby is already in charge and hasn't even arrived yet. Case in point: last week I bought my stroller at a sweet little boutique shop on St. Clair named Peek-A-Boo (highly recommended  - way more fun that Toys R Us) and on the walk home I exercised some patience. My former self, alone and errand-bound, would skip by people, weave in and out of sidewalk traffic, and bounce into tight Toronto shops to "git er" done. Alas, not in my new life. Steering my new jogger awkwardly down the street, it took at least twice the time it would usually for me to get home - no skipping, no twisting, no passing. I am the one being passed now. And the stroller was empty!

For me the stress associated with being overdue is that each day that baby waits to arrive is one less day that I have to settle into some semblance of a routine before we bring it on tour. One week late is one week younger on our first plane ride. Two weeks late is an 8 week old on the road. I'm sure that all of this over-thinking and anxiousness isn't helping to move baby down the canal. Ultimately our baby will arrive when it wants to. For the wise out there - any advice on helping things along? I'll even take old wives' tales!

At the end of the day, I just can't wait to meet this little thing and my sweet husband keeps telling baby that he wants it to come out in play. We have some hurdles to jump through before then for sure (labour!), but in the meantime, we wait to meet our late and lazy new family member. Patience.

Book-A-Week Challenge

In grade 7, my teacher decided to tack up a "reading log" at the front of the class. The premise was to encourage students to read. On a lined paper on the wall beside her desk, we would write our name, the title of the book we had read, and the number of pages in that book. The idea being, whoever had read the most by the end of the year would win a prize.

At the time I was a voracious reader. Because I took the bus to school, and there were no kids my age in my neighbourhood, I had few distractions in the evenings and weekends. My sister and I would go to the library, load up on piles of Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley High novels (I use that term loosely),  and I would read. And read.

My Dad put up a hammock in the backyard, and it became my sanctuary. I would immerse myself in Judy Blume, R.L. Stein, and Tolkien (and the complete works of Bill Waterson...). Each time I completed a book, I would proudly walk up to the reading log, number my pages, and head back to my desk.

In retrospect the whole thing was a bit embarrassing. I realized, around the time when the 15th book was logged, that I may have been going overboard. I could hear snickers from my classmates (though that may have had more to do with my stirrup pants under flannel plaid shirts) each time I wrote down my pages. Over-achiever perhaps? Brown nose? Whatever it was, I became self-conscious about my hunger for literature, and started to leave out some of the books I read, logging ever other novel instead.

Skip forward to present day: I now have an English degree from the University of Toronto (thank goodness the self-consciousness faded), and I love to read. Although, truth be told, the number of pages read annually have fallen drastically since grade 7.

In late June, I had an epiphany. Long hours in the touring van and all the quiet time I have at home to read were about to go up in flames. The baby was going to be my new time-suck (and suck of other things as well!!). No more late nights on the road in a quiet hotel room to myself! Gone the days of peaceful leisurely reading! Goodbye, books, my old friends!

Around that time, I heard about the Book-A-Week Challenge through Shelagh Rogers, host of CBC's The Next Chapter. Inspired by the concept, I decided to take up my own 12 Week challenge, the number of remaining weeks in my pregnancy. Here's what I have read thus far:

The Book Thief - Marcus Zusak
Stories I only tell my Friends - Rob Lowe
Lost in the Barrens - Farley Mowat
All the Pretty Horses - Cormac McCarthy
The Flying Troutmans - Miriam Toews
Girls Fall Down - Maggie Helwig (Toronto Public Library's ONE BOOK - Community Read 2012)
The Color Purple - Alice Walker
Cat's Cradle - Kurt Vonnegut
The Sentimentalists - Joanna Skibsrud
John Irving - The Cider House Rules

Admittedly, I am a week behind, and hope to finish the following books before baby comes:
Lolita - Vladimir Nobokov
Down to the Dirt - Joel Hynes

My criteria for choosing books was quite simple: I chose books mainly because they were recommended to me by friends. My reading list was also largely determined by availability at my local library. Time and money are of essence these days (Did you know what a stroller costs? I had no idea! ROBBERY!)

Upworthy.com put together a great guide to some summer reading, a guide that avoids the undisputed queen (and trashy queen she is) of the summer reading list Fifty Shades of Grey. My friend shared the list with me after I announced my personal reading challenge, and I ended up drawing some of my choices from it. Check it out here.

There are two things that have surprised me about the challenge. After the 3rd book, I found myself shying away from the computer, wanting to spend any downtime reading rather than on twitter or facebook or instagram or some other time/soul-sucking social network (I am embarrassed to say that I even forgot about Perezhilton.com, my daily celeb gossip indulgence). At mealtimes on my own, I would gravitate to the comfortable reading chair in my kitchen. In the afternoon, when I was feeling tired from our move, I would lay out on the futon and read. When baby started kicking vigorously at 11pm, the witching hour, I would get up from bed and read until the wee hours, or at least until the little bugger settled down.

Second, and I think more importantly, I have reignited my love of the local library. Yesterday while stocking up on the next stack of books, I saw piles of babies playing in the community room while their parents browsed the book selection. I have a feeling I'll be spending lots of time there in the years to come.

Cheers to the next challenge (childbirth.)

CB

Shows this weekend

Just a brief note to say that I'm gearing up for a weekend of music.

On Saturday I am singing backup for my good friend Scott Cooper. Coop is a beautiful human and a great singer songwriter from Midland ON. He's releasing a gorgeous new record called Quiet Company that's garnering some beauty reviews. And I'm a lucky duck for getting to sing on it...

Saturday September 15th, 2012

The Cameron House
Toronto ON
CD RELEASE EVENT - FULL BAND
w/ sg Rob Szabo
10 pm

On Sunday I'll be playing a solo set (gulp!) at Not Far from the Tree's Annual City Cider event. These guys do amazing work in the city, harvesting fruit from homeowners and distributing the bounty to food banks, shelters and community kitchens in the neighbourhood. I'm delighted they have asked me to play, and am looking forward to the challenge of playing an hour of tunes on my own. It's been a long time.

My set takes place at 1pm in the Orchard of the Spadina Museum. There are some other great acts playing this weekend too, including Ventanas, Beams, and Orchards (naturally).  For event details, check out the facebook invite.

Hope to see you out there this weekend.

xo CB

Change of Season

For me, autumn brings about change more than any other season. I think mostly because we'll never forget that "going back to school" feeling - new sneakers, squeaky binders, reuniting with friends after a long summer! As far as I can tell, fall is about new beginnings even more than New Years. This is the time of year I make my real resolutions. And the weather is perfect: sunny, crisp and cool in the evenings. With the windows open, I find myself buried in a heap blankets by morning, with a chilly nose. I love it.

But autumn also ushers in melancholy. I grew up with a giant mountain ash in my backyard, and each September, the robins would eat too many berries and fly into our big windows, drunk from excessive eating. Fall was a heyday for survival. I always felt that the season had a sense of urgency about it - the threat of departure and death. After the great feast, on a day like any other, I would suddenly notice that the mountain ash was bare of leaves and berries and birds. And it made me sad. Everything went quiet.

September has also, over the last few years as a musician, been a time of renewed touring. After a lull at the end of summer festival season, the fall would mark the start of a series of tours. This is when theatres would open their doors at summer's waning, and people settled in to watch music again after getting their kids back to school.

Last year around this time we headed to Northern Ontario for a series of shows in small towns. Then in October we headed to the Carolinas on a beautiful driving tour that left the cold of Ontario behind. We were like birds heading South for the winter, lounging on white beaches, eating exotic foods and turning our faces to the sun. Unfortunately that tour only lasted 2 1/2 weeks, and we left for Alberta for the beginning of our Christmas tour, (equally fun, but for different reasons, and damn was it colder).

This year, the feelings that accompany fall have even more gravity (I am also carrying extra weight, this could have something to do with it). With the baby due in two weeks, it's all new beginnings in the Brooks/Love household. A change of season, a new apartment, a ten week "sabbatical", a total change of life. I am cooking up a storm in order to hibernate for the next few months. Phew. Heavy stuff. And I must admit, I'm feeling nostalgic about the touring life of yesterday. The timing couldn't be more perfect :)

Here's a very amateur video of a tune that I wrote on tour last fall. It's called "Winter's Defeat". It was inspired by many of the feelings that I've talked about here. Full disclosure: I'm like a newscaster here - I got "gussied" from the waist-up. I'm totally wearing jogging pants in this video, as they are the only thing that fit my giant belly now.

I hope you enjoy.

Til next time.
Caroline

Trolls, Trophies, and Piles of Crap

It's done. I have just (like 5 minutes ago) left the floors in our unit downstairs to dry before our new tenants, and good friends, move in today. Even though we haven't moved very far - just upstairs to our second & third floor apartment, it's been a slog. Here are some thoughts on moving, from a preggo freshly settled (hardly - see above photo) into a new place.

I will preface this to say that we have done one of those long move-ins. Our previous tenants moved out at the beginning of August, and we took a month to slowly move upstairs. We thought this would give us ample time to go through our things and bring only what we really needed. Optimism at its' finest! Okay, thoughts/reflections away:

Moving while pregnant is not fun. There are many reasons why, but for me the most salient is that I just could not (and just should not) do the things I usually can. No lifting heavy things, no breathing in toxic cleaners (sorry baby, I may have done that a couple of times), no painting (I definitely did that, oops), make sure you put your feet up (ha ha). Thank goodness for family and friends and very strong-endlessly-patient husband.

Toronto is very dusty. I prefer windows open to air conditioning, but the smoggy film of the city coats just about everything.

No matter how well-prepared I think I am for a move, most of the work will happen last minute, and I will become cranky in the final hours.

I should clean my floors more often. Seriously, they were gross.

Natural cleaning products do not work on ovens.

Trying to stay on top of work-related stuff while moving is a "fun" challenge (read: sarcasm). Listening to mixes for the new album wasn't so bad - I could do that while I worked, but checking emails and meeting up with people was stressful with time ticking. Thank goodness I also have incredibly patient bandmates.

If feels very good to sit down. Often.

There's that point, at the end of moving, where you stop trying to organize. You just throw everything that's leftover in a box (I like to call this the "shit box"), and carry it into your new space, where it will likely sit for weeks untouched.

There's no use cleaning anything until you are totally done. It's just going to get dusty and dirty anyways. I wasted so much time cleaning up and then cleaning up again. No use.

After moving from a unit with ample storage to an apartment with two closets (one of which is in the baby's room, guffaw), I have some new rules: If you don't know what it is, throw it away. If you haven't used it for over a year, get rid of it. If it means something to you, consider taking a picture and storing on your computer rather than in your basement. I was pretty ruthless. Although I cannot believe how much stuff Colin and I still have piled in storage. And that's even before baby!

Lastly, one of the joyous parts of this move has been going through my old "gummy" boxes, full of letters and keepsakes from my last 30-odd years. I was able to sift through pictures of my favourite trips - Europe with my little sister, Greece with Colin, Cross-Canada with my family. I also found some hysterical keepsakes: some trolls, a whack of softball trophies (including my favourite - the "personality award"), and my keychain collection (nerd! double nerds in fact, turns out Colin had one too!). At the same time, my Dad was cleaning out the family basement in Whitby, Ontario, which led to even more "discoveries." Piles of old stuffed animals, now being sent to reuse stores, will hopefully find new cuddles.

Okay, I off to organize my life (I'll start with the pots and pans). Til next time.

Did anyone else use to cut their hair super short?

"Personality Award" = crap baseball skills

Poor Humpty goes to Goodwill

Waddling into the last month

I am sitting in my kitchen, performing my morning rituals. A prenatal vitamin, some oatmeal, checking email and half-listening to CBC radio one's The Current. It's a perfect late summer Toronto day, the sun warming up the house after a fresh cool night. The cicadas are singing, and the construction trucks are beeping in the alley. It's - dare I say it - lovely.

I'm thinking about peace, not the worldly kind, but the kind you find within yourself - that peace and quiet if you will. It's easy on calm mornings like this to feel peaceful. Still, these days I'm constantly trying to quell the anxiousness that sits deep in my belly. There's so much left to do before this baby comes.


Officially, the shows are done, and the Good Lovelies are now on a break from the road until December. While we're working in other ways, it's strange to think that we won't be performing for a full 3 and a half months. This is the longest we'll go without playing a show since the band started in 2006. We have been so wrapped up in our identity as a touring band that this break is a bit of a shock for me and even though I am preoccupied with other things (like how many onesies will baby go through?), performing is always on my mind. The time off is necessary, and has been a long time coming, but it's still bizarre not to be strapping on a guitar every night and singing my heart out.

So I find myself looking for value in my life outside the band. And like my bandmates, I am channelling my energies into other expressions of creativity (this blog, new tunes), as well as the practical stuff that makes up day-to-day living. Like putting up shelves (don't worry, I'm not doing the heavy lifting), and setting up crib, and painting baseboards (with non-toxic paint).

Husband and I are moving and we are purging our house. Nothing like the threat of a crying baby to get your butt in gear! This is, I think, what they call "nesting." We needed a second bedroom, so we're moving into our apartment upstairs. In the process, I have been going through piles of old files, pictures, letters, and books to "trim the fat" if you will. While doing so, I've been reliving the years up til now. In a way, it's a perfect thing to be doing - remembering and honouring where I've been helps me understand where I am going and what got me here. I'm not talking about the baby in particular, but the choices I've made that have led me to sit in this very kitchen, to marry my sweetheart, to start a band with my best friends, to quit my day job and be a touring musician. I am one lucky lady.

(Aside - while purging old docs, I found pictures of my trip with hubby to Greece from 2004. While flipping through we came across a photo of me in my bathing suit. He said, without thinking, "look how skinny you used to be!" Luckily, I was in good spirits and we laughed it off - that foot in mouth moment could have been his demise. HA!)


I have officially entered the last month of my pregnancy, and I'm really starting to feel it - that sluggish heaviness, the slow waddle. Tasks I have never given a second thought to are now a great challenge. Cutting toenails, tying shoes, chopping food at the counter (my big belly gets in the way!). Bending over, quite frankly, sucks now. Standing up from a squat is a full body workout. But the baby is moving, and even though it's making me uncomfortable as hell, I am happy each time it kicks me in the ribs.

Til next time,

Caroline

Photo Credit: Sara Moody Veldhuis

Simcoe Ontario Rotary Fest, August 2012