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I thought it would be nice to restart my normal journal on my birthday, because I've found myself having some actual non-baby thoughts lately. Well, kind of. Sadly my birthday was yesterday, and I didn't quite get to writing an entry, but that's how things are lately; I don't quite get to things when I plan to, and sometimes I don't get to them at all. But I'm getting to it now; better late than never, yes?

I'd like to get back to updating regularly. I should be able to do that, I'm not insanely busy. I think the problem has been that when I do have time I spend it emptying the dishwasher or paying bills or vaccuuming or sitting and reading or watching TV. But if Beth can nurse a sick, whiny boyfriend and be on a diet and take care of three big bouncy dogs and be a big important lawyer chick and still write an entry every day, surely I can squeeze one in every few days while Del is sleeping, or when Blake is home cuddling her, or something. I'm going to try, because I miss it.

My 28th was a good birthday. I usually take a day off for my birthday, but last year I didn't, and it sucked. So I decided I would always take my birthday off.

And then I had a baby, and I stopped working (you know what I mean), so I didn't even have to take the day off. And it was good.

Delphine had an uncharacteristically bad night the night before my birthday; she woke up a couple of times wailing. I thought she was either gassy or teething, but she hasn't shown any more signs of teething so it was probably gas. Or some elusive, unknowable baby ailment. Whatever it was, she was fine when we got up in the morning.

Blake took the day off (because he's the best husband), so we slept in a little bit and then he gave me my presents, an Indigo gift certificate and a copy of James Berardinelli's new book. My needs are simple.

At around 11 my mother-in-law came over to watch Delphine while Blake and I went out. Originally we were going to go see a movie, and then go to Indigo and get bagels, but we decided that would take too long so we skipped the movie part.

We walked to Indigo and started with lunch at their cafe -- I had the black forest ham and brie sandwich, and a key lime tart for dessert, Blake had grilled cheese and and iced tea. Then we bought books; I got Michael Chabon's The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, a collection of short stories set in Toronto, a kids' book about Opera with an associated CD, and How to Read and Why by Harold Bloom. Blake got The Devil's Larder by Jim Crace, and the next book in Guy Gavriel Kay's Sarantine Mosiac series.

After we loaded up on books we went to Laura Secord for an ice cream, because we had a 2-for-1 coupon. I got Lemon Chiffon in one of those sugar cones with those little chocolate chips which all fall off when you start eating, and Blake got peanut butter chocolate in a cup, because he doesn't think eating ice cream should be a race against the clock.

(Why do I talk about food so much? Because I fucking love food.)

Then it was time to head home, but first we stopped for the free dozen bagels that What A Bagel offers if you can prove it's your birthday.

And then I realized my left breast had leaked. It wasn't the first time it had happened -- I had a pretty bad leak one day when we went for a walk down by the waterfront -- so I was ready with a fresh breast pad. It seems like it should be very embarrassing, but I couldn't seem to bring myself to be embarrassed. I am nursing my baby, and I've been away from her for a couple of hours, and my breast is leaking. And so it goes. Why are you looking at my boob anyway?

On the way home I dropped into The Sassy Bead Company and bought myself a pair of dingly-dangly earrings, because they're all the rage right now and I do so like to fit in. They're kind of Indian-style, little filigree disks in a brassy-coloured metal, with red and yellow beads suspended from them. They were my birthday gift to myself.

The last stop before we got home was Starbucks; I had a decaf venti iced caffe Americano, which I started ordering when I found out their iced coffees don't come in decaf. I always mean to order it with a shot of syrup because it's a little bitter, but I always forget. It's a hard life.

After we got home I opened the huge package my parents sent. They had had to shop for my birthday present in Big River because the day they had planned to go to PA to get something, my mother got a call saying she could come in for a hip replacement that day. Shopping for a birthday present in a town of 1600 with only a hardware store and a grocery store is a challenge, apparently. They did okay, though; a picture of a lake at sunset, and a pair of rustic, kuntry-krafty Hallowe'en strawman dolls, each the size of a five-year-old. My parents don't really get my style. However, Hallowe'en is a time for wacky tackiness, so I'll tuck them away in the storage locker, and when we have a house with a porch I'll put them out.

For my birthday evening's entertainment we rented Notorious C.H.O. and ordered in KFC, then went to bed early and read some.

We're so old.

It's been a long time, so much has happened. I mean, obviously I had a baby, but other stuff has happened too, related and unrelated.

I stopped working. I made new friends, and reconnected with old ones. I stopped singing. I lost all my pregnancy weight. I had major abdominal surgery. I decided I want to be a zoo keeper, and then I decided I didn't.

My life is good now, maybe better than it has ever been. I spend my days with Delphine and we've settled into a kind of routine, or at least a rhythm. Delphine's rhythm goes like this:

sleep - eat - play - sleep - eat - play

My rhythm goes like this:

sleep - eat - nurse - empty the dishwasher and clean the kitchen - launder diapers - nurse - eat lunch - run errands - nurse and watch TV - help with dinner and eat - watch TV - nurse and read - sleep

I mix it up a little; I go to my mother-in-law's condo to swim or just visit, or I go to the park and watch the tots music class they have there, or I visit a friend. Sometimes my mother- or sister-in-law comes over and watches Delphine while I do chores. On the weekend Blake and I rent movies, and we always get together with Blake's family for dinner on Sunday.

It sounds so simple, but it's so good.

No.

It sounds so simple, and it's so good.

Sometimes I get tired of the housework, but at least it's something I'm doing for my own immediate gratification, not for someone else and the abstract reward of a paycheque; after I vaccuum, the floor is clean, and that's good, dammit.

That sounds horrible, doesn't it, like I think being a housewife is so superior to having a real job. That's not what I mean. What I mean is that, for me, the rewards of being a housewife are immediate and concrete, not deferred and abstract. It's a less sophisticated payoff, to be sure, and I'm sure the appeal will wear off to some extent, eventually, but for now it's just what I need.

What else? I have a lot to talk about; thoughts about how to raise Delphine, and how I want her childhood to be different from mine, and how I want it to be the same. Thoughts about family, and friends. Thoughts about eating habits, and how I want to change how we eat once Delphine starts eating solids. Being a mom. Make-up and clothes. The kitchen reno. Cats. My brother. But it's 10:19 pm and I think we should head towards bed. I hope I'll write another entry soon.