The Big Chill.

Things have cooled down here at our hustling homestead for many reasons.

We ventured to Toronto, weekend before last, for the first time since settling here in Canada to tag along with Daddy who was presenting at The Canadian Music Week. We stayed at the uber-hip and historic hangout in the Arts District on Queen, The Gladstone, where each of the 37 rooms are custom designed by a different artist. Our room, The E-LE-MEN-TAL, was as fresh and inspired as the sustainable and local fare served at the cafe. Frankly though, it was a quick weekend--too quick. I wish we could have explored more, but we'll be back. We loved Toronto--I didn't want to leave. I was ready to pack up any empty boxes still lingering down in our basement with all of our belongings and head to the nearest brownstone in downtown that would rent to a pregnant mom with a toddler and two cats. I loved the bustling avenues and the plethora of culture, counter-culture, international food, organic butchers and grocers, fresh markets, galleries, eclectic shops, variety, diversity--life pulsing with soul uniquely its own. It's apparent to me now more than ever that I am a big city girl. Bunk me in a big city apartment with a weekend country cabin and I'm in habitat heaven. Really, that combination would make me as happy as pie. This suburban existence? It just ain't for me, eh? Guess I had to give it a try to know it though. Now that I do know, however, our time here in London may feel extra long.

The week following Toronto was a bit of a flurry. We picked up a toddler bed for Noah during a 4-hour jaunt at the local IKEA on the way home. The bed is too-cute-for-words and Noah is simply over the moon about his new nighttime digs. Even when I try to get him to slumber with me for nap time--so that he'll nap longer, thus allowing his weary preggo mama to get some extra shuteye--he insists on snoozing solo in his room, in his own bed. So, just like that, with no fuss, grumbles or bribes, after 2 years and 3 months, our bed now houses just two warm souls through the night--at least for another 2 months or so until the next and youngest tenant moves on in.

This past week was perhaps, however, the chilliest yet. I came down with the flu--my first time catching the flu or being this ill since I was a young child. I never get sick. And Noah, he had yet to have even a full blown cold until this past week. We both miserably muddled through the week. As thawed ground became snow covered once again, I slept through 4 straight days with fevers and chills and sweats and aches and pains and coughs and drippy nose and a searing throat. Dean had to take the afternoons off after he had finished teaching classes each day to come home and watch Noah who was on the upswing regarding his illness, but still needy nonetheless. It's only today, day 8 of this affliction affair, that I am beginning to feel better. Though I am still filling hankies and cringe with every swallow, I am confident that this big pregnant body of mine will evict these germs, hopefully completely, in the coming days.

At any rate, so sorry for the prolonged absence from my dear milieu. This weary mama is hoping that a thaw is upon us for both the inside and outside our weary home of convalescence. We're so, oh so ready, for spring.