The kitchen ceiling, part 1

When last we left the kitchen, we had discovered that the roof was rotten (because it was the 100 year old STABLE) and our handymen-cum-roofers had replaced the entire structure of the roof. So much for patching a few shingles. While they were working on the roof, the ceiling had begun to crack, so they jerry-rigged a brace & told us not to worry too much. Here's a picture (the sock hanging from the ceiling was my attempt to keep the bats out - yes, tape would have been more aesthetically pleasing, but the sock was available and I was worried):


And here's a picture of one of the cracks that made the ceiling a wee bit unstable:


And I bet you thought that discovering that the kitchen was actually a stable, that the whole roof was rotten and that the ceiling was falling would be the end of the story, didn't you? So did we until...

We hired a different contractor to do the interior work because I had some reservations about the handymen. For example, we suspected that our roof was the biggest job they'd every done - didn't help that the invoice was #027 and that the guy who took our check was seriously worried about it bouncing (not because he didn't trust us but because he didn't know what they would do if it did). Oh, and one of them told me twice that I was spoiling Thomas. Don't mess with a mother and her baby: I didn't take kindly to his observations.

So our new contractor, Justin, showed up early this week and, with his younger worker Josh, began to demolish our kitchen ceiling. Sure enough, within minutes I could hear the exclamations. Josh was seriously impressed with our stable. True to form, they found hundred-year-old wood & nails and a ceiling being held together with plaster and the thinnest of drywall so that it really was about to fall on our heads. Josh did most of the demolition work and then he stopped. He showed up at the front door and said, "did you say you just had your roof re-done?"

This is not the question you want your contractor to ask.

SO. It turns out that the original contractors were more handymen and less roofers. First, they had cleverly installed the rafters in two parts and then failed to support the joint where they met. Turns out rafters are supposed to be one long piece - who knew? Second, they had attached all these rafters to one of the old beams (remember the old, rotten wood?) - and that beam wasn't even supported on one end!

(Notice how the beam coming across the photo is actually resting above the joist that should be supporting it - oops! This just kills me - I mean, did they not notice that the beam they'd chosen to support the ENTIRE roof was not attached to anything? Sheesh.)

There were all sorts of other construction no-nos, too. (When I asked Josh to take pictures of the problem areas he didn't even take the beam picture - how scary is that?) So Justin suggested that they needed to a) brace the roof so they could finish demolishing the ceiling and b) re-structure the roof in order to continue.

DIDN'T I JUST PAY A LOT OF MONEY FOR SOMEONE TO REBUILD MY KITCHEN ROOF?

Apparently that was for naught. Needless to say, I called Contractor #1 (aka the handymen) and asked the big boss to come and explain. He came on Thursday and said it wasn't nearly as bad as Contractor #2 said, but that I should put them in touch and they could work something out. Not likely. No way was I going to pit one contractor against another. I called the new contractor and asked what needed to be done.

Then I cried.

Then I called the old contractor and told him what the new contractor said and asked for some money back. And shock of the century (granted, the century is not very old yet): he said yes.

I figure they must have done a pretty awful job for him to just agree to give me more than 10% back without even thinking. Maybe I should have asked for more...

At any rate, now Justin, Josh & gang are going to rebuild the roof structure AND re-do the ceiling and one wall. And since they have to re-do the roof anyway, it looks like we're going to have a cathedral ceiling - after all, why re-build a flat ceiling if you're already up working on the roof? And we may get nifty new lights - and we might even put in some windows - assuming that we just want to get deeper in debt. But I'll let you know all that next time I write. Meanwhile, I'll leave you with two pictures:

The one below is the door to the former hayloft. The one on the right is the beautiful wood we discovered between the level of the old ceiling and the top of the roof (the roof on that side is about 20 feet high!). Oh, and the new wood in the right-hand picture is the massive brace Josh put up so the ridiculous roof wouldn't fall on him.

Did he or didn't he?

Today Thomas is 13 weeks old - tomorrow he'll officially be 3 months old. This is all very exciting, no doubt, but the question of the moment is "did Thomas roll over?" Well, obviously he did roll over, tummy to back, or I wouldn't be writing this, but does he know he rolled over? Hmmm...

This morning Thomas rolled over quite easily after I showed him how to do it about 5 times in a row. Does it count as rolling over if you're only doing it to get your mother to leave you alone? This evening he did it again but André reported that he thinks it was more or less accidental and that Thomas looked very surprised.

So, Thomas may know how to roll over. Or he may not. The good news is that one way or another he will definitely roll over before he graduates from high school, so we're not too concerned.

The terrible truth about the jolly jumper

Thomas really doesn't weigh quite enough to get his feet on the floor (don't tell his dad).

sleeping in my crib?

Mommy thinks I should practice sleeping in my crib. Ha! I think I should lay in there and watch the mobile for 15 minutes, pretend to be asleep for about 5 minutes and then cry really loudly. (Maybe she'll turn the mobile back on.)

The sling thing

Here's how Thomas and I travel most of the time - we love our sling!

Baby, look at me now!

Thomas is now 12 weeks old & 12 lbs heavy - no more Mr. newborn! He's changed so much in the last two weeks that it's a little mind-boggling. Where to start?

Well, last weekend we stopped swaddling him at night - we'd noticed that he wasn't relaxing into the swaddle the way he did at first, and he was clearly fighting it in the morning. To our great delight, Thomas slept wonderfully without the swaddle - guess that newborn startle reflex is gone. Yippee!

While we're on the subject of sleep, Thomas has started - slowly but surely - to fall asleep on his own & to nap in his bassinet. Don't get too excited - he's still not sleeping through the night - but he is sleeping better and better and I can almost imagine that someday soon we'll have a schedule and be sleeping five or six hours in a row...

Maybe all this sleep is helping with coordination, too. Two weeks ago I wrote that Thomas could intentionally (sort of) hit things. Now he grabs them & pulls them towards him - and he is starting to grab things and put them in his mouth. I figure I should celebrate that milestone now while it's exciting because I hear that soon enough his desire to put everything in his mouth will be the bane of our existence! Here's Thomas playing in his Gymini (he loves the horse, if you can't tell):

Thomas has also tried out his Jolly Jumper - witness his first attempt below. He's not quite tall enough - or maybe he's not quite heavy enough - to get both of his feet on the floor simultaneously. I would have waited a little longer to try it - babies are supposed to be able to hold their heads up before they use it - but André was convinced Thomas was ready & I have to say that I think he was right.

And that's all the news for now - it's taken me a couple of days to get this written & now I've got even more to write about - in another post!

D'Arcy's Birthday

Yesterday was D'Arcy's birthday. We all went down to Kingston where Leslie had organized a beautiful small burial service followed by dinner at D'Arcy's favourite restaurant, Curry Original.

The day was sunny and warm. Just before the ceremony, a hawk flew down and lit on a gravestone near D'Arcy's - beautiful and appropriate. About 25 of us gathered and listened some of Leslie's lovely poems for D'Arcy and a beautiful a capella song. A few people shared thoughts of D'Arcy since his death and a lot of us shared some tears.

The dinner afterwards was a tribute to D'Arcy's love of good food and companionship. Curry Original did itself proud and we reveled in butter chicken, lamb korma, saag paneer and much more.

We miss D'Arcy more than I know how to say in a blog, but I didn't want to let the day go by unmarked. D'Arcy was fun and warm, challenging and loving. Thomas is already hearing stories of his uncle, and we plan to tell him many more over the years - we'll want to remember this day, too.

Thomas' First Trip to the Pub

Last night we took Thomas out to a local bar, not because we wanted to role model bad behaviour, but to join others to watch my childhood friend Simon Whitfield compete in the triathlon at the Beijing Olympics. Any of you who know triathlons will know him as the man who won the gold medal in this event in Sydney in 2000. When we were growing up a bunch of us would play pick-up soccer together fairly regularly. Simon always wanted the game to keep going, no matter how late or dark it was ("Come on, come on, next goal wins ... okay, now next goal wins ... that one doesn't count, next goal wins.")

The gathering had been organized by Simon's sister Kate and we were thrilled to see the place packed with his fans. Once the race started, Simon moved strategically through the swim and bike (aided by his teammate Colin Jenkins). Near the end of the run he began to pick up the pace, and then, at a critical moment, just as the commentators were saying that he was fading, he pulled ahead of the lead pack in the last stretch (vintage Simon). The place went absolutely wild, with screaming and clapping, and Thomas wasn't quite sure that he liked it. Mandy pointed out to him that I was clapping too and that seemed to convince him that a complete meltdown wasn't necessary. Anyhow, at the very last moment Simon was overtaken by Jan Frodeno of Germany and he crossed the line shortly after, earning himself a well-deserved silver. I laughed and cried at the same time, just like I did when Simon won in Sydney. We stayed through to the end of the medal ceremony, and then beat a hasty retreat to get Thomas to bed since by that point he was getting increasingly out of sorts.

Anyhow, it was a new experience for Thomas and we told him that he could learn lots from what Simon did that night by showing patience, determination, class, and good sportsmanship.

What we actually call Thomas

Here are the names we actually call this child (in no particular order - and I challenge you to figure out which ones come from André and which ones come from me):

Baby Boy
Babycakes
Sweet One
T Rex
T Man
Squirt Beast
Sprout
Squeaker bait
Mister Mister
Sweetie Bear
Thomas Mohandas
Thomas Amongus

and the most common - in fact, the way we refer to him most of the time: "Squeaker". ("How's the squeaker?" "The squeaker's asleep.")

Talking to Mommy

Grandpa Jim and Grandma Shirley are up for a visit as they wend their way homeward at the end of the summer. Jim filmed this Tuesday after Thomas's first visit to the art museum. ("Nose, mouth, chin, cheeks" is one of our favorite games.)

The art museum

Thomas went to the Ottawa Art Museum for the first time with Grandma Shirley & Grandpa Jim. He slept through some of it, nursed in the middle of it, cried near the end of it and explored the bathroom after an impressive blow-out - but he also enjoyed some of the modernist art, especially when his Grandma Shirley was holding him. We only took two pictures before we remembered that there's no photography in museums!

Sleep Miracle

For the past few nights Thomas has not been sleeping very well. Basically, he wakes up every sleep cycle - or about every two hours - and has a little snack. This is exhausting for everyone, naturally. Most days, Thomas and I have been able to sleep in or take naps - but Thomas has been struggling to fall asleep anywhere but in my arms & he doesn't sleep long when he's in a bassinet. Sigh.

Given this background, you'll understand why I was astonished when this morning Thomas put himself to sleep. He was in his bassinet, watching his mobile while I showered and was so content that I left him there for a second cycle while I ran downstairs to put the laundry in. When I got back up he was making little fussy noises, so I almost picked him up - but before he saw me, I saw his eyes close. I decided to wait & watch. For about 5 minutes, Thomas fussed, then closed his eyes, then woke himself up and started the cycle again. And then - miracle - his eyes closed and he was out!

Suddenly I know the difference between fussing & crying. I will continue to pick Thomas up when he fusses, but I definitely want to encourage his new ability to go to sleep on his own. Wish me luck!

P.S. You should know that I'm writing this with Thomas asleep on my lap. What can I say? That first nap only lasted 15 minutes & he's so cute when he falls asleep in my arms... yes, I'm a sucker!

required viewing

Ok, I know we're not supposed to let our baby watch TV, but we've been watching the Olympics, so Thomas has been watching the Olympics - and he loves it! He sits in his bouncy seat, sucks his fist (another new skill - well, new in the sense that now he can consistently get his fist in his mouth) and watches and watches. Oh, and he kicks. He's pretty indiscriminate in his taste - he likes swimming, beach volleyball, rowing, gymnastics, and even water polo. He really loves the motion, I think.


Anyway, we'll turn the TV off when the Olympics are over, but someday I'll be able to tell him that he actually saw Michael Phelps swim, even if he doesn't remember.

Thomas can hit!

On purpose, that is. In the last day or two T-man has gone from being amused by his dangling toys to intentionally reaching out & hitting them. When he's on a roll he can even get his hand behind a toy and pull it towards him. He gets very excited every time he manages this and he wiggles & coos. Here's a video:

Personally, I'm excited because now he spends a lot more time entertaining himself. This morning I managed to hang the laundry out to dry AND empty the dishwasher while he played - practically a miracle!

No rabies here

While Thomas, André and I were in getting our third round of the rabies vaccine, the Public Health Department called to let us know that our second bat was not rabid. As André said, "Good news for Grandma, but I doubt that the bat sees it that way."

Only two more rounds of shots for the rest of us. Moral of the story: always capture your bats!

Grandma & Great-Grandma visit

Thomas's Grandma & Great-Grandma visited from Buffalo this weekend. It was the first time that Thomas met his great-grandmother. He spent a lot of time cooing for her & she spent a lot of time telling him that he was a good talker and very alert. Needless to say, they got along famously.


Here's a picture of all 4 generations.


Lest you fear that the visit was simply the lovely end to a difficult week, I must add that Saturday night around 3:30am as I was nursing Thomas, I heard my grandmother going down the stairs to the living room where my mother was sleeping. They talked for a minute then my mother came upstairs and said, "There's a bat in grandma's bedroom. She's fine & she closed her door, but the cat's still in there." Sigh. Of course a second bat came in; of course it was with my 85-year-old grandmother. This time, however, we were much more clever & we caught it & kept it (using the same filing box trick we learned from bat #1). We also called Public Health & they told us to freeze it until they could come pick it up. They'll test it for rabies Tuesday (after the long weekend). Keep your fingers crossed that my grandmother doesn't have to get a rabies shot!

Grandma, by the way, was very impressed. She likes having new experiences & described the bat swooping with wings like an eagle. Glad we could spice up her life a little bit.

Bat in the bedroom

My Monday mantra (about interesting disasters) held me through till Wednesday, because apparently discovering our stable wasn't enough...

Tuesday night at 3:15 the bell on Babbington's collar woke me up - just in time to see something swoop through our bedroom. Clearly I was dreaming, so I rubbed my eyes... and saw it again. My gasp woke up André (good hubby) and I informed him - in hushed tones (because our flying visitor wouldn't have wanted me to use my normal voice) - that there was something in our room. His supportive response? "Are you sure?" Thankfully just then it flew by again and my fears were confirmed: it was a bat.

My first thought was of the baby - I was desperate to get to the bassinet and get him out despite the fact that he was sleeping quite peacefully; Andre's first thought was of the cats - he was determined to get them locked in the bathroom so they wouldn't try to catch the bat. It took a few minutes of frenetic flapping on the bat's part before we worked up our courage to run, crouching, through the bedroom and accomplish our tasks. Then, baby safely tucked next to me, cats safely away in the bathroom, we returned to our bed & pondered our options: a) Go back to sleep and assume the bat would get out the way it got in - problem: who can sleep with a bat in their bedroom, plus the cats would go crazy in the bathroom. b) Wait for the bat to fly out of the bedroom, close the door & go back to sleep - problem: then there is a bat loose in our house & the cats are still locked in the bathroom, yowling. c) Open the windows, take out the screens, lock the bat in the bedroom, let the cats out of the bathroom, go sleep in the guest room & assume the bat will find its way out - problem: other things could find their way in and we couldn't be sure the bat had left. So of course we chose option d) Open the windows, take out the screens, close the door to our bedroom WHILE WE WERE STILL IN THERE and wait for the bat to leave.

For future reference, I don't really recommend Option d. First, the screens hadn't been taken out of the windows in some time, so André had to struggle to get them down in between the bat's increasingly frantic forays around the bedroom - André even went so far as to go downstairs to get a tool to help remove them. Then, once the windows were open & the screens were out, we lay watching the desperate bat swoop around the room & never once find the windows - though it did manage to get up the stairs into the third floor, and very near the windows - and once we opened the bedroom door again, out into the hallway repeatedly and finally, the last straw, down the stairs to the first floor. At this point, with the cats scratching the bathroom door and howling while I cowered in bed with the baby (who had woken up and begun to cry only after I shrieked) and André lay on the floor near the door (so he could see where the bat was), we decided to reconsider our options.

I think I was the one who recommended catching the bat. It clearly had a favorite place to rest - an air conditioning duct in the hallway - so all we needed was something to catch it in... Since it was my bright idea, I went downstairs and returned with a strainer and a large Tupperware container. André rejected both as too small so he descended and returned with an empty plastic file box. Before you know it, André was on a step ladder holding a file box against the wall over his head & trying to coax the bat off the duct it was clinging to. After some minutes the bat was in the box & André ran it down th stairs and released it well away from the front door. Whew. It was 5:30 in the morning - more than two hours after we first saw the bat - and less than two hours until the workmen would arrive to finish the kitchen roof.

But apparently that wasn't enough excitement for the week because Wednesday afternoon I got a call from my dad. (I had sent our families a brief account of the renovations and the bat encounter.) Though his voice was measured, I knew he was upset because he was making an international phone call from his office in the middle of the day. "Sweetie," he said, "you've been exposed to rabies. You need to call the Health Department and you need to be vaccinated for rabies." I was unconvinced - there was no evidence that we'd been touched by the bat, but the Health Department was adamant: vaccines for everyone. And my reading on the web about bats & rabies suggested that they were right - and rabies is no joke - it's almost 100% fatal.

So then there was the question of Thomas. He got his first immunizations on Wednesday (before we knew that the bat thing was a problem) and I had no idea if the rabies vaccine was safe for infants. My dad had the same thought - as did the public health nurse I spoke with. So all three of us set out to find out. Dad did the best job: he posted to an Infectious Disease website and asked the experts - he got responses from rabies experts and pediatric ID docs and even a family doc who had just vaccinated a 10 week old. Everyone said that despite the tiny risk we had incurred, they felt that the vaccine was safe and that it was important for Thomas to be vaccinated, too.

So yesterday the Dept. of Health sent the rabies vaccine to our doctor's office. Unfortunately, no one there had ever administered a rabies vaccine - so not only did we have to call them and say, "Um, hi, you're about to get a bunch of rabies vaccine and you have to find a way to fit three people in your schedule for this afternoon and some way to help us get the next round on Sunday" (not what most doctors' offices most want to hear), but then they had to figure out how they were supposed to administer the stuff! They were, of course, super nice about the whole thing, but there was some confusion and we ended up spending over 2 hours there & keeping both the doctor and the nurse well past their 4:30 closing time (we were there till after 6). In the end, André and I got 5 shots (4 in our butts - yikes!) and Thomas got 2. Our doctor graciously insisted that she was fascinated & was really learning something - and they didn't even complain when I corrected them several times (since I had spent a lot of time reading about the vaccine & talking to my dad there were two times when I tried to politely suggest that they might have overlooked something). And then they have an intern who has to come in on Sunday and give us the next round (only one shot from now on) - and the poor thing was literally learning how to give the shot from the nurse - André was her practice patient (the nurse demonstrated on me). Sunday should be interesting!

Oh, and to add insult to injury, you have to know your weight - not something I wanted to know 8 weeks after giving birth.

Anyway, it's been quite a week - and frankly I'm hoping that today will be downright boring.