Travelling takes on a new meaning when you have a kid.

Before kids, people say, “When I have a kid, the kid will go wherever I go, whenever I go and having said kid won’t change my lifestyle.”

Some of that musing is true. Like, yes, “the kid will go wherever you go, whenever you go” because leaving said kid home alone is frowned upon. But, the whole lifestyle-not-changing thing?

Ha! Haha. Hahahahahahahaha!

That’s a good joke.

An 11-day trip (6 hours away) that once required a suitcase and handbag has become two giant Rubbermaid tubs, a stroller, a Pack ’n Play, a suitcase, a handbag, a laptop bag (to Skype with Daddy) a diaper bag and a spare bag filled with anything else you could possibly imagine an infant needing while outside the house.

Also there’s a car seat complete with kiddo who may or may not be sleeping.

THAT’S the trickiest part of travelling: determining if your kiddo will or will not be sleeping.

Sleeping? Fabulous. Pedal to metal! No stopping for anything. Not sleeping? Ugh. Be prepared for possible silence, jabbering, squealing and/or ear-piercing screaming. Any of which may or may not be accompanied by tears.

Thankfully, on her first road trip, my kiddo fell into the “sleeping” category. Meaning, while in her car seat she mostly slept from Point A to Point B. Sleepy McGee slept for 4 hours, ate, slept for 3.5 hours, ate and slept for another 2 hours.

Wow. Did. That. Trip. Rock. Seriously.

And the trip home? Just as fabulous. Minus the “Hey, Momma! I’m choking back here!,” the police officer pulling Momma over because she was speeding while determining if the kiddo was still spitting up and the jerk who almost side-swiped our vehicle while looking at his cell phone. Awesome.

Perhaps installing a “Baby On Board” sign would ward off the idiot drivers?

Ha! Likely no (and no way would I ever install one of those).

Here’s to hoping/praying our kiddo continues to love travelling about in a car!

On Tuesday, I took my parents to the Canadian National Exhibition.* We strolled up, down and around the midway, taking in the sights and sounds of the “local fair.”

After five hours, my kneecaps were practically walked off, so we returned to the GO train station to catch a ride home. Once home, I started work on dinner, and Mom and Dad went for a coffee run.

It was while they were out that Mom realized she was missing her cell phone. Not entirely uncommon as the dear woman is notorious for leaving purses all over the place. She remembered having it on the train, but couldn’t remember having it beyond that.

Oh, boy.

I called GO Transit to report a missing phone and was told it could take up to 48 hours for items to make their way to the Lost & Found in Toronto. We prayed someone would find it and turn it in. In the meantime, I suspended Mom’s cell service, declaring her phone might be lost.

My parents left Wednesday morning with no word of a phone sighting. Around 5 p.m., I received a text message from my Aunt Angie asking me to have Mom call her ASAP. I had her phone Dad. I then received a call from Mom on Dad’s cell.

Apparently, Aunt Angie had received a text from a strange number asking if she had lost a cell phone. She replied that she hadn’t, but her sister had. Mom gave me the number, and I called.

The gentleman on the other end had found the phone one stop beyond ours, but it was dead. Concerned that someone needed it, he took it to a phone store and had it charged. He then sent a text to the first number on the list: Aunt Angie.

Thank you, Mr. Wonderfully Nice Man, for picking up the phone, charging it and tracking down its owner. And, thank you, Lord, for answered prayer. We are grateful!

Especially, Mom (who left her purse at her son’s house on Wednesday afternoon and only had to backtrack 20 miles to retrieve it).

*If you are a farmer, do not go to The Farm. You will be disappointed.

Too cute and will probably look fabulous in frames (infants can’t really hold flashcards straight out of the womb, you know).

Not quite the flashcards of yesteryear, are they?

Perhaps Baby’s first words will be “ring-tailed lemur.”

Perhaps.

PS. Uncle Justin, the baby really will know colour. One day.

“Baby?” you ask. “What baby?!” Oh, you know. There’s a baby in the works.

Anyway, I say “quasi” because, while the baby will be stored in the room, it won’t really be his/her room because it’s already the office (sorry, kiddo). I’ve just had a wee issue finding what I want. In a price range I’m willing to pay.

Enter Etsy. Oh, Etsy, how I love thee. You’re so cool.

I came across happydeliveries and Lori’s collection of fabulous letterpress prints. She hooked me up with the exact look and phrase I was going for. For a steal.

I’m so pleased. Thanks, Lori!

Of course, I was also initially attracted to this “muscular” piece:

Maybe another time.

So, along with my newly scored art, the total small-child items currently owned includes a stroller, infant car seat, 12 washcloths, three bibs, 10 onesies, a pair of overalls, a bottle and two newborn-sized diapers.

We’re almost all set, right?

I'm hard-pressed to think that I wouldn't like food regardless of the season in which I was born.

Supposedly, the season in which you’re born “can affect everything from your eyesight to your eating habits and overall health later in life,” says some research.

Spring babies, for instance, are more likely to suffer from anorexia nervosa as adults (per Wellcome Trust Center for Human Genetics).

I must be one of the 92 out of every 100 people born between March and June who have NO interest in anorexia nervosa. I like me some food. It’s true.

I’d tell you about the rest of the findings in the article, but, after reading that statistic, I had to get up and find a snack.

You can read the full story here.

MERGE ALREADY!

Love,

Jill

Tell me the truth, Mom. Am I heavier now than when I was 2?

Dear, Mom,

I may no longer really fit on your lap these days, or even remember the days when I truly could, but I’ll always know and remember the love that you have for me.

Among many other titles, thanks for being:

• my teacher,
• disciplinarian,
• spiritual leader,
• shopping partner,
• No. 1 Fan in the Stands,
• prayer warrior,
• conversation partner,
• shoulder to cry on,
• homework partner,
• Cinnabon sharer and
• praise giver.

Most of all, thanks for being my mom.

I love you!

Jill

Crossing the border? Leave your Kinder Surprises at home. Better yet, eat them before you cross.

Kinder Surprises hold a special place in my heart. You might recall that I found my engagement ring inside of one. Plus, they are chocolate and delicious. And there’s a toy. What’s not to love?

Imagine my surprise, shock and amusement at hearing a Canadian woman was busted at the Canada/U.S. border for having possession of one.

Lind Bird from Manitoba was recently stopped at the U.S. border and selected for a random search of her vehicle. She was warned she could have faced a fine after the customs official found—and seized—her $2 Kinder Surprise egg as illegal contraband, reported CBC News today.

The woman was told that if she were caught with the small chocolate egg across the border, she could be charged a $300 fine.

Why? Because U.S. authorities have banned the candy due to the supposed choking hazard created by the small toy that’s found inside. The sweet treats are legal in Canada.

CBC News reported that the U.S. must take catching illegal Kinder candy seriously, judging by the number of them confiscated at the border in the last year. Officials said they’ve seized more than 25,000 of the treats in 2,000 separate seizures.

25,000. In 2,000 seizures? That’s 12.5 eggs per search. But, that’s beside the point, because the story gets even better (not necessarily sweeter).

The woman reported that the U.S. government has sent her a seven-page letter, asking her to formally authorize destruction of her seized Kinder egg. The letter states that if the woman wishes to contest the seizure, she’ll have to pay $250 for it to be stored as the two sides wrangle over it.

For crying out loud, someone just eat the egg, put the toy together and be done with it!

Dirty dishes go in. Dirty dishes come out. Wait. What?

For about a month now, Husband and I have been pondering why our dishes were coming out of the dishwasher with a white finish. They looked somewhat clean. But they were also white-coated. White-coated and streaked.

“Is the dishwasher on the fritz?” Husband asked. No. “Are we using new detergent?” No. “Are we using too much detergent?” No.

It was a real mystery. Until today. When the National Post gave us our answer.

Phosphates.

Phosphates, or rather the lack thereof, have been turning everything white.

It turns out the Canadian government brought in new regulations last July, effectively banning phosphorous in most household dishwashing and laundry detergents, reports the National Post. The new rules prohibit the manufacture and import of these products containing phosphorus beyond 0.5 percent by weight.

That’s wonderful and all, but a heads up would’ve been grand. Why no mention of the regulation?

“It’s probably because a satisfactory replacement hasn’t yet been found,” said Bruce Cran, president of the Consumers Association of Canada, in the National Post article. “This is often the case with industry when things happen that aren’t necessarily to their advantage.”

The government supposedly passed the regulation to rein in phosphorous dumps, which have become a major problem for Canada’s waterways. While phosphorous softens water, reduces spotting and rusting, holds dirt and increases performance, it also acts as a plant fertilizer, creating an algae boon in waterways. The algae die, sink to the bottom and get eaten by bacteria. The bacteria use up all the oxygen and kill the fish. Also, the chemical causes massive green blob-like growths which can raise pH levels in water to toxic levels and block water intake pipes.

Not the prettiest of pictures.

Detergent makers have been trying for decades to come up with a suitable alternative to phosphorus with varying degrees of success, said the National Post. Tests conducted by Consumer Reports magazine in 2009 found that most phosphate-free detergents, including Great Value, sold by Wal-Mart Stores Inc., and Kirkland Signature, sold by Costco Wholesale Corp., “left our test dishes somewhat dirty.”

“Detergents without phosphates—which help clean but also boost algae growth in freshwater, threatening fish and other plants—tended to perform worst overall,” the magazine said.

Lewis Molot, an environmental scientist at York University, told the National Post that dirty dishes are a small price to pay for preventing the spread of phosphorous.

“Either the public pays huge amounts of money to remove the phosphorus at the end of the pipe, or it can choose the cheaper alternative to reduce the amount of phosphorus going into our sewers in the first place,” he said. “If I have to pay a little more for a greener detergent, even if it means it doesn’t clean the way it used to, I’ll put up with it.”

I don’t know. I kinda prefer my clean dishes.

You can read the full National Post article here.

Because it’s kinda like I always say: If it ain’t broke; BREAK IT!

Oh, Starbucks. Has GAP’s marketing department taught you nothing?