*Flashback Post*-November 3rd, 2013

I remember those days,

Timeless moments nothing could intercept,

Living for each moment, not thinking we had much time left,

Hours ran into days, ran into months into pains,


I remember those days,

Each day awoken with a smile,

Loving each second, each embrace,

Tethered by our souls, moving by grace,


I remember those days,

Time flew around us, yet our gaze stood still,

Time flew around us, but our traces lingered on each others skin,

Careless spirits, moving us through,


I remember those days,

Nothing ever mattered, nothing was our everything,

Talks that extended past wee hours,

No interests in seeing anything but each other


I remember those days,

Shamelessly submissive to your every word,

Fed from your words and your releases,

Full from all you embody and all you do,


I remember those days,

Falling into your arms was the single point I looked forward to in my days

Even just in candle light you seemed so great,

Naked and bare I still saw you as Adonis type gold

My every fibre focused on willing your eyes to just me


I remember those days,

If my tears would fall, so would yours too,

I’d be felt and heard and made to feel silly because you were there,

We were one being of burning heat and hope and love

We were open, our basic selves, feeding each others strengths


I remember those days,

Fingers tracing lightly on skin,

Tip toeing, stealing kisses, sneaking in,

Soft touches calls flutters in,

a glow and a constant happiness;grins


I remember those days

I ain’t felt that way in years.


*Flashback post*-Dec. 29th 2013

It is what’s in your soul that will be the only thing that will carry you through,

When faced with adversity, when your pureness has been compromised,

Fly, fly on…..just keep swimming, it’s not the end,


When you gave of yourself and received naught,

It is not the end for you, your kindness has not met defeat,

It has instead met tests for a stronger self, don’t forget.


Fly, carry on as you are,

Don’t change when met with grunge, debris and a witless heart,

You have done no ill in being kind, extending a hand and trying to change the times,

Never change because you’re hurt, be yourself someone will see your worth.


Never beat yourself up. Never expect a beast to give you a rose.

You introduced your naked soul and were rebuffed.

Life goes on, no matter how tough.


When the dust settles it will be clear,

You made a clearing in a dark place,

You loved the unloved.

!Diaper Yeast Attack!

You know how they say be careful what you post online as one day your child might see it?…. yah, I’ll spare you pictures of my sons diaper yeast. I don’t want to be the reason he becomes ridiculed in school, but this thing was bad. It looked like moss, lil booty eating moss. I’m not sure if it hurt as he didn’t scratch too much. Incidentally, I learned the hard way that Magnesium was the worst thing to put on it. I mixed colloidal silver with magnesium and rubbed it on and he jumped and started scratching and kicking up his legs. Thank God his nails were cut or he’d tear a cheek off. It was a battle to get him to stop moving long enough for me to wipe the shit off, but eventually it passed. Poor child! The doctor had diagnosed it as diaper yeast and gave me a cream. It worked for a little bit, but then the diaper yeast was back. It was here bigger and spreading wider. I read online about Boudreaux butt paste and used it on him and holy! He got a rash on his poor pecker. I finally said ok, back to the doctor. Hubs told them it was getting worse and somehow the doctor convinced him it was getting better. Even though he lives with us, and we are the ones cleaning that butt every damn day! She prescribed Polysporin and I was pissed! That was used for healing cuts sooner than time would and this wasn’t a regular ‘ol diaper rash. We also couldn’t use it everyday and to me a day missed not working on this is a day it gets to either get better or worse. I needed it to get better only. I used it and it worked a little bit, the Canesten cream worked way better than it did.

After taking a step back and tracking a timeline from when this first became an issue, I realized it was going on for far too long. I wanted it gone and off my kids bum. The ever nurturing Google was my refuge. This time I looked up natural methods of getting rid of this thing. I would wash his butt with warm water with 2 drops of tea tree oil added, then smear yogurt on. This was so messy! This was working and even our daycare lady did it every now and then. We changed him often and gave him lots of breaks (lots of clean-ups) to help offer some relief. He unfortunately got an eczema outbreak from the Greek Yogurt we were adding to his bottle at nights and when we pulled it from his diet, we were left with a tub of the stuff to finish. *facepalm*. Our previous solution worked on the eczema, it’s just now we couldn’t tell which was which easily in order to contain the diaper yeast.  Nevertheless, I was on the charge and started applying the Greek Yogurt to his butt. I want to say within a week, I could actually see the yeast drying up. I read somewhere that when it started drying up I should not apply the yogurt anymore, as it was on the mend. Every now and then though I’d do this routine at nights, when he’s sleeping. Especially if he pooped in his sleep. Hubs mentioned that it might be something he eats that triggered it, but for the life of us we can’t put out finger on this one. He would poo and then bam! His entire butt is in rashes. Sigh! Kudos to the natural mommy goddesses that share their magic. I am eternally grateful to the wave of naturopathic educators on the internet….my baby’s butt thanks you! ….xoxo



Night time Babba woes…

*Sigh* …Our food drama continues…

Since lately baby (2 yr. old) has been waking up multiple times throughout the night screaming for a bottle. We were trying to wean him off bottles, formulas and bedtime ‘babbas’ but the child was legitimately starving.

We tried giving him water, rocking him back to sleep, letting him wake up, turning on his favorite videos on his tablets, singing songs etc. None of it works as fast as a warm bottle does.  Truth be told, most times we needed to go back to bed as well. When our efforts failed we tried to find ways to full his stomach. We only use almond and coconut milk and so we figured they weren’t holding him as long as we needed. Plus, frequently waking up meant he wasn’t hitting deep a sleep to me. one night he woke up 6 times and he polished off his bottle each time. We knew we needed to make a change. We needed to make baby fuller, longer. We figured he was tired of the Pediasure, so I looked at other things.  I perused the supermarket aisle and was considering a baby cereal but there wasn’t any that went up to his age.  A quick Google search suggested that greek yogurt is one food that keeps you fuller longer. I figured that it couldn’t hurt to try even though he was technically limited when it came to dairy.

I bought a small tub of organic plain to try and it worked like a charm! One tablespoon in his night time bottle and he only woke up 1 time for the night looking for his fill. He even seemed more well rested. I especially loved that this wasn’t a filler like the cereal would be but a great healthy addition with lots of Calcium benefits!


Dia Tres…

I groaned as they rocked my body in an effort to wake me up but I opened my eyes instead of fighting back. ‘It was 4pm’ my husband kid and I jumped up thinking we had lost a day! It was only 11am and so we hung about for a bit. Today we’d see Fusterlandia and head to the beach close by after. Baby was a little under the weather and so we tried to create some sort of zen atmosphere so that he could sleep. He had a hard time and when he looked outside and started crying for us to open the door we apologized and quickly got dressed to go about our day. How could we waste his time like that? lol As we were about to leave, he threw up and caused a little panic but in no time he was back to being himself. We stood outside and hailed a ‘collectivo’. It took a good 5 minutes to get the address down pat and once again our maps.me app saved the day as that was what the driver and his passenger used to locate our first destination. He didn’t know of the place but he asked for 5 CUC and we hopped right in.  He made a stop to ask a lady friend for the destination and when we crossed cities he asked another driver but both him and his passenger shrugged and said ‘no’.  He eventually stopped where a fleet of taxi men were and as luck would have it, the man spoke English and was able to tell him exactly where to go. He let us know that we were very far for the driver and that it would be an additional 5 CUC. We didn’t mind honestly, as it was 40 CUC for a private taxi. We genuinely didn’t know where the fuck we were going either. All we knew as per the app was that we were 20 minutes away and the driver was very patient. He even played with the baby at random stop lights. We were grateful for his willingness to help. Fursterlandia was awe inspiring.
We eavesdropped on the tour guides spiel and heard that the artist does the homes free of cost. The concept is mind blowing and what it does foe the community is beyond exemplary. When we got to the main attraction a group of kids approached us but we couldn’t understand them. We saw a man go to them and give them his coins and told them to share. We did the same without thinking too much about it. I asked for a picture and they cracked us up with their poses!! One of the boys broke my hubbs heart when he asked for a baseball. We had actually brought 2 and left 1 at the casa. The other we had already given away.
I would recommend that If you decide to take gifts for children, go on the weekend and take them with you to Jaimanitas barrio, as the children will be around. After Fusterlandia we decided to check out the beach close by as it said it was only a minute away; Playa de Jamainatas. We were told to go around to get in and ended up walking a good 5 minutes away and had to walk through a path that led to a rocky, super small piece of beach.
We decided to go back around and walk across the baseball field then cut back across the hotel property.  It was too much trouble and the beach just wasn’t worth it. I got my beach fix with a dip and we left. The smell of the water stained our clothes. Luckily I had a few sachets of liquid Tide and was able to do a small soak and rinse when we got home. Sadly, this was the only time we got to go to the beach as the Playa del Este region was over 45 mins away.
We crossed the road and stood under a bus stop that was also designed by Jose Fuster. We flagged down a collectivo and presented them with our map. The driver and a female passenger worked things out and it would be 12 CUC. We agreed and got in. On the way, the 2nd passenger told us that he spoke a little English and was there studying to be a doctor. He also told us that they were planning to raise the price and that we should say no and pay the exact fare we agreed on.
We were grateful and as soon as we got to an avenue we recognized, I said ‘basta aqui por favor’, paid our fare and we walked home. The baby fell asleep from the weariness of the car ride and my hubby joined him shortly after.  I showered and went to walk the streets as sleep just would not come. I checked out a pastry shop and bought some cakes. I then visited a paladar that was recommended to us but was amazed by the setting. The prices were obviously way out of our league. A café bombon and an assorted croquettes from the tapas menu and a bag to take home my croquettes was almost 8 CUC!! I chilled there for a bit and caught up on my blog posts then made my way home. The VIP Havana ambience was real nice and I would recommend it as a date spot. It just wasn’t in our budget.
At our casa we played cards until we were ready to touch the streets again. At about 9pm, all 3 ventured out to Huron Azul for a Jazz show. We paid 5 CUC each and enjoyed live singing from a few artistes. We were extremely under dressed, hubs in shorts and I in tennis shoes. Nevertheless, we laughed at our situation and enjoyed the show. Only one performer spoke English and she turned out to be the best of the 3 we saw. Upon inquiry we found out that her name was ‘Choka?’ (not sure of spelling) and had been invited by another performer. We tried to get a picture but it seemed like she was gone and we weren’t in the mood to be any more trouble.  You see, when we walked in all eyes stared at us for awhile. Not only were we carrying a baby out this late but we clearly looked like we rolled off the back of a truck.
Everyone else was formally dressed. We left about 10:20 and went to El Idillio for a pleasant meal! So fresh and delicious, we both cleaned our plates. The rice with beans was the only thing that didn’t meet expectations but we were full regardless. We both had lobster meals and cocktails for under 25 CUC. The set-up of the restaurant was so perfect for families and babies. We didn’t want him disturbing other guests as he is a wanderer so we played racing and ring games together on the drive way as daddy settled the cheque. We were seated outside by garage and once all packed up, we strolled home to watch Backyardigans until we all fell asleep.


Fare Transat….

Fare Transat….
Today has been a whirlwind of a day and we’re all too exhausted to breathe straight. We did our due. We abided by all airline rules and was at Terminal 3 fully checked in to catch our 6:45 AM flight. I was already exhausted as anxiety wouldn’t let me sleep the night before and baby was knocked out catching up on sleep from ​being woken up at 3am! It was perfect! Or so we thought. The plane taxied and hubby and I smiled with each other as our butterflies settled because we were on our way! This trip has been in the works for 6 weeks and we were finally on our way there. The pilot came on and fucked our excitement raw. There was mechanical problems with the plane and we would be going back to the gate to be checked. Naturally, we both thought ok, better to be safe than sorry and so we relaxed during ‘the checkup’. The flight attendants tried their best to cool the guests over, but people were very annoyed. They wanted to be drunk off mojitos on a beach somewhere they couldn’t quite pronounce, getting tanned to high heavens or reeling with diarrhea; whichever came first. Hey, its Cuba, we all heard the stories.  The pilot came on again and we held our breathe. The plane could not fly. We were a little disappointed but others were UPSET! Very odd, I thought, as this is a literal matter of life or death. Mojito or Muerto. We allowed the majority of the guests to deplane as we definitely didn’t want to cause further upset. We collected our voucher for breakfast, ate and the wait started. We met another beautiful family and their children played with my son the entire time. We were grateful, as he wasn’t dying from boredom and he would be knocked out on the flight again. Saving ourselves the torture of having to deal with god knows what would have been in store on this flight. 10:45 was our new departure time and it came and left us still sitting there. This was when the horror stories started reeling in. The most memorable was one guest who said their initial and back up plane both had mechanical problems and they didn’t make it to Aruba until 3am the next day, causing them to be charged for late check-in! Ay dios mio! 11:00 came and there we were smiling but weary, 11:15, same. Finally, they announced that priority guests and families with children can board but that didn’t matter, everyone clapped and proceeded to start boarding anyway. The gate agents had no choice but to work with the guests as I believe they’ve gotten many earfuls and had enough themselves. Especially, after having a gate change and seeing people arrive at the new gate in the nick of time exasperated as if it wasn’t announced a million times! When we got on the flight Cuban music was playing. I thought this was damage control at its finest and people were buying it. Well played Air *cough* Fare Transat. Anyhoo, this was about to be it! Flight crew did their checks and mojito land would be ours in a few. The pilot came on and like a bitter ex, people gave a side eye. He announced that there was indeed a leak in the back bathroom and that we wouldn’t be able to leave until it’s fixed AND there were 12-15 flights waiting to depart so we would need an another 15-20 minutes to wait until it was our turn. People damned him to the depths of the most unscrupulous places. Odd again to us, as the pilot is doing his job, the airport and the airline is to be blamed again! Really, how do you load the plane TWICE and quite possibly have to have everyone deplane again? Man, tensions were bad but baby was doing so good, so we were ok. We sat on that flight for an hour only being able to take off into the clouds at 12:30pm! I don’t know a word worse than ‘pissed’ and ‘livid’ doesn’t quite create the same effect. So if you do, that’s what people were. They were all going to write in and ‘give them a piece of their minds’. We were ok as baby wasn’t causing further discomfort for the angry mob. He eventually fell asleep and we were relieved but starving. The ‘In flight’ service began and every striking thing on that plane was for sale. We held our own with snacks we brought and drank water to feed the worms. We just didn’t think they deserved another dime, they were too careless.

Make shift change bench! lol

We napped twice and still hadn’t arrived, so now our patience started wearing thin. Through the fog of being in and out of sleep I heard when the gentleman beside let out a ‘what the fuck!?’ then apologized. Alarmed, I asked if everything was ok. It wasn’t! There was a FIGHT! Flight attendants vs. guest and 1 flight attendant fainted mid brawl. I needed to pee and they drew the curtains to close off the bathroom in order to deal with the situation. Everyone was in shock. What the hell kind of flight as this? What else was going to happen and if they made an emergency landing because of this debacle, we would really see a war. People were already complaining about what and where they should have been. We just shook our heads. We’ve flown classier and cheapness left us sulking, starving and almost stranded. The politeness Canadians were known for was nowhere to be found on this flight and the rogue guest buried her head in her company’s shoulder for the remainder of the flight. She wasn’t happy with a $15 breakfast voucher for her delay. We figured she was starving the way we were and ‘hanger’ got the best of her. Whatever was her reason, it made the flight ten times worse. Especially after our seat mate shared that he was supposed to be taking part in a wedding today and this was the only flight he could catch. I thought about what would have happened if the flight attendant had worse issues and felt sick to my stomach at the way ‘Rogue’ acted. Perspective on life quells all rage. We finally landed at an airport that looked somewhat of an abandoned site. I mean we saw a woman just strolling along the tarmac, the way she was dressed told us she didn’t work there. Until we got inside and realized that she quite possibly could. IF you aren’t wearing a teeny weeny uniform complete with fishnets then whatever goes! Nevertheless, when we saw the customs line I wanted to scream. This was too much now, I thought, until I saw a sign for families with children and 4 families in line. We could have kissed the agent, we were so happy. Finally, things were looking up! We found our bag carousel and daddy n baby went hunting for a bag trolley while I waited to collect our bags as soon as they slid through. Our beautiful new family friends was behind us in the customs line and met up with us. We chatted it up a bit and they let us know that it could be 2 hrs before we would get our bags. My anger and frustration rose here and I literally poked my eyes. They were closed though as I am chicken shit. She noticed my immediate distress and said hey, if it’s earlier at least your relieved, I’m just giving you a heads up. I thanked her and let her know she was right. I couldn’t helped but go in panic mode though.  It just felt like no matter how much planned we were being beat. Out loud I said I need to get my baby something to eat. The dad said they might have something and offered and I thanked him and told him we were ok. I low key wanted to hug them and bawl into their sleeves, but I held it together. From the airport until the very end their entire family helped us in major ways. I didn’t fall as I was trying to maintain my composure and not scream. Daddy went to see about changing money and was told if he left he couldn’t come back, our plan to maximize the time failed. I ‘manned’ the bag situation and asked daddy to change the babe. At least a clean bum would make him happy and I didn’t want to transfer my stress. He said there were no washrooms and I felt like I went partially deaf. That would explain why our family friends had their kids change their clothes right at the bag carousel, I was a bit caught off guard there but I smiled a confused smile. I told him to just do it on the fucking floor and he caught a bench in the corner of his eye and made due there. Just as the universe works, the belt started moving and in 10 minutes! *Shoom* * shoom*…2 of our bags slid down first! A single thug tear fell. I ran at them hands flailing and grabbed them up like they were my children. We waited for the 3rd and it hit me that it being left in Toronto might just be a possibility. I held my breathe and when it crowned and slid down, I felt like I gave birth again. We walked right by the last check out point as really the lady wasn’t doing much and I know how islanders causally worked and wanted no part in it here. She didn’t even stop us and we were outta there!! Viva la fucking Cuba!! Finally:-)


I recently had an ordeal that left me a bit confused at the nerve of some people. My mother accidentally met my son for the first time in his entire life last week. My son is about to be 2yrs old. While it was brief (thank God), she managed to get my husband to agree to meeting up so that he could collect gifts her side of the family had for our son. The meeting went down and I carefully donated all gifts to the Make-A-Wish donation. I could have just thrown them away. What struck a chord with me is the fact that she labelled the gift bag as being from ‘Nana’ and put ‘Grandpa’ before her husband’s name. My uncle had let me know that he had left things there for my son but they didn’t even have the common decency to add his name.  I was grateful for the fact that my son is young and couldn’t attach himself to the thought of who these people he met randomly at a clinic is to him. I was so annoyed, because I grew up attached to someone with a title that refused to have a hand in raising me. As neither my husband or I have a relationship with the gift givers, their audacity boggled my mind. It reminded me very much about people who boosts about relationships that don’t exist, ie. delinquent fathers and their estranged children. Where do people get the nerve to cast themselves in positions that clearly was never bestowed on them? Positions that they clearly have contributed zero effort towards. Further calling themselves monikers that are used so affectionately by people worldwide. I felt a bit of embarrassment for them, because we all know they are anything but. I was even more annoyed knowing this was something which would be bragged about from their end. I wish people would be more honest with themselves and not be so hung up on an image. As basic as it sounds, you are by no means grandparents to my child; you’re merely related. I strongly believe in titles and how we represent ourselves to a child. This is generally how trust develops and primarily why I was most annoyed. We all teach our children about strangers and counter that family and friends are people we can trust, who are ‘safe’. There was no way I could attach these titles to people that aren’t in my sons life. Furthermore, you don’t get to call yourself such names and treat him any old way. Further confusing him and leaving him open to so many questions. Children have a very odd way of feeling emptiness and asking about people that should be around that aren’t. Especially when they see these relationships around them. Their love is very pure, and based on your relation to them, they will either love you or not. I’m definitely not ready to introduce my child to what a broken relationship is. I’ve seen the effects and will kindly bow out of that mountain. As a stretch, as his parent, our permission to associate with my child a certain way should be given prior. Especially when it comes to people who have problem filling children with fallacies about all manner of things. Trust that there is a special kind of hell for people who try to control and turn a child’s mind. I don’t believe assuming a role that isn’t yours is healthy, for anyone involved. When my son met his paternal grandfather he was introduced to him as his name and said who he is. He was called by his name because in his life there hasn’t been that relationship. I believe in calling a spade a spade when it comes to letting people in. I refuse to teach my child it is ok to hold on to mediocre relationships. I simply refuse to teach him to be a doormat for someone just because of their title. Most importantly, that not everyone related to you deserves to be loved by you. *deep sigh*

It’s a disservice to think your children aren’t already living and building relationships with people. Trust that only the best people should be allowed to grace their presence; they don’t need early encounters with the cold world…