Category — Expecting

Photo: Then Comes Marriage Photography

I’ve been awfully sentimental lately. It’s a natural part of the pregnancy process, I am told. As a woman who can count her annual tears on one hand, I’ve been welcoming this new emotive self.

Here’s what got me choked up today: our wedding photo montage. Yesterday it was my father’s handwriting on a discarded envelope.

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I thought a few snapshots of my recent shopping excursions would be telling:

A Paris toy shop

London’s Spitafields Market, fashion Fridays

Shakespeare and Co. Bookshop in Paris

More London fashion

Kids clothing store in Oxford’s covered market 

New Westminster’s Kiss a Frog children’s store

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I am happy to report the baby is winning out.

© Christina Crook 2009  [London street]

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“The irony of commitment is that it’s deeply liberating — in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.”

- Anne Moriss

True, true words particularly applicable for this soon-to-be-mama/writer/business-owner/newly-returned-home-domestic.

Today I commit to my work (turning phrases, quoting on projects,) my play (working on our Europe album et al,) my love (creating a home for my husband, our child, sorting through boxes, making my third run of donations, cooking, spring cleaning) — and yes, I shall be liberated for it!

© Christina Crook 2009

…and smiling.

I have been dreaming of whiling away over pots and pans for months now. Four consecutive months of eating out will do that to you. So will reading Barbara Kingsolver’s “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.” For this deprived domestic, it was a combination of both.

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Apple Rhubarb Crisp (adapted from Mama Crook’s recipe)

Equal parts Granny Smith apples and rhubarb, chopped and drizzled with honey

Topping:
1/2 cup oatmeal
3/4 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup organic sugar
1/2 cup butter

Bake and enjoy with vanilla ice cream (or my topping of choice: Island Farm’s raspberry swirl frozen yoghurt)

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I feel a new blog category coming on: Domesticity.

Trying on dresses at Spitafields Market in London. I snagged this gorgeous number for only £10.

Here are a couple of shots of the baby bump (at around 22 weeks.)

It has definitely become more pronounced in the last little while! I finally feel like I look pregnant. One thing I’ve noticed is that the dip in my tummy hasn’t smoothed out. I thought that pregnant bellies were always nice and round. Not mine. Perhaps the roundness will appear in the coming weeks. I’ll keep you posted. ;) 

Sorry this space has been silent. We arrived home on Saturday and besides nursing some nasty jet-lag I’ve been a flurry of activity. Most of this week has been filled with unpacking, sorting, purging, and reorganizing our whole house… I’ve been dreaming about it for months.

I am officially nesting!

A strange thing happened the other day, I turned 29. And on that day I got to thinking about where I thought I’d be at this age. Now you’re probably thinking this isn’t particularly strange, people often assess their lives on birthdays, especially birthdays on the cusp of the big 3-0… 

The strange thing is that I realized I’m exactly where I thought I’d be. 

As Michael and I spoke over (the most mediocre of) London pub fare he pointed out the rarity of my experience. In contrast, he has had a lot of plans but none of them included where he is today. It’s not that the path I’d mapped out all went according to plan (it didn’t,) but somehow I’ve managed to end up exactly where I’d hoped and expected. 

First, I finished my Communication degree, something I hoped for but never expected. I went to university for ‘the experience’ intending to attend for a year or two and then complete a diploma at BCIT in Broadcast or Marketing Communication. University stuck, and I stayed. 

Second, I have had a varied and interesting career thus far. When I was 20 years old I had little exposure to CBC Radio or anything else relating to the mother corp. My then-boyfriend loved CBC’s jazz program After Hours and we’d spend hours listening in on late night drives through the city. Four years later and I was working for the CBC on too many interesting programs to name. I’ve also been Marketing Manager for a downtown museum (at age 20, no less,) worked in Global’s BCTV newsroom, interned for Vancouver Magazine, and completed numerous for- and non-profit projects in my realms of interest: media, politics and faith-based initiatives.

Third, I started my own company. The Word Studio was a natural progression of the contract and freelance opportunities that have come my way over the years. 

And finally, I’m married and pregnant.  

It’s a strange and wonderful experience to sit back and realize: I did it. I got here. Somehow. I feel so grateful to be in this place. It’s not that I don’t have more desire, more that I want to accomplish, but I am okay. In fact, I’m more than okay, I’m doing great. 

Here’s to more happy birthdays, even thirty.

I caught up with Canada’s George Stroumboulopoulos, host of CBC’s The Hour, to get his thoughts on true love and his affinity for black (among other things.)

Enjoy this uncut version!

I am off to London tomorrow to celebrate my birthday (April 3,) visit Amanda‘s adorable digs, peruse Oxford with the hubby, and savour croissants (pregnancy, the perfect excuse!) in Paris… then home to Vancouver! See you after the 18th.

I leave Toronto one week today. I can’t believe how fast it’s flown by. Just three months ago I was curled up in our condo cursing the cold and nursing my 24-hour ‘morning’ sickness. Today I am staring out at the sun-kissed waters of Lake Ontario filled with regret. I will miss this city and all its eccentricities — the buskers of St. Lawrence Market, Kensington‘s nooks and crannies, Little India on Queen Street — where you’ll find us 3 out of 7 nights a week. I hope to share a few more ‘Signs of Hope’ from Toronto before we hop our plane next Wednesday. 

Priority number one, upon my return to Vancouver (April 18, after our trip across the pond) is hitting up Raw Canvas: a full-service paint-on-canvas art studio complete with wifi, lounge and fresh crema. 

I’m making plans and taking names. Who’s in?

A bump has emerged.

Exciting as the prospect of being a mother is to me, I find hours of kids’ television programming utterly terrifying. Barney. Mickey. Icky!!

Thanks to Fiest, I maintain a modicum of hope: