Rose's Cantina

Thirty years ago, I was pregnant with my son Nick and we were living in Regina, Saskatchewan where one of the great sporting activities was watching your tires go square when it's 40 below. I loved being pregnant. I ate litres of Haagen Daz ice cream, didn't worry about fitting into my skinny jeans, and happily spent my days watching reruns of Dallas . What I didn't love was what being preggers did to my boobs. As my stomach grew, so did they; they grew and grew and grew. They reminded me of a children's book I read once. It was called The Monster Cheese Which Ate Lake Louise. I didn't mind them really, because finally they fulfilled a purpose and that was to fatten up my special little boy. Trouble was, they were too big and Nick lived in danger of being smothered to death. Him and the cats. Anyway, I continued to persevere with the whole breastfeeding thing, and managed to give him nourishment for three or four months. I had milk, boy did I! I had so much...

As we get ready to welcome our first grandchild sometime in the coming weeks, I can't help think how wonderful it will be to have a Christmas season baby around the house. My sons Nick and Stef bookended Christmas. Nick was born November 27, 1985 and Stef brought up the rear as an Irish twin on January 12, 1987. They were 13 months apart. Oh, my! Both boys were born in the Pasqua Hospital in Regina in the dead of winter. My mother flew in to help me learn the ropes of motherhood. I read voraciously but I hadn't changed a diaper since I was the bad and bored babysitter back in my teenage years. I didn't like diapers then, and I was certain I wouldn't like them when my own children were swaddled in smelly gauze. I didn't know anything about kids. I was the youngest in my family and all the other kids were older. I didn't know how to dress a circumsection -- yuck! -- nor did I have a clue about bathing a child or even how to put the kid down in t...