Wow, it really has been a while. But I'm using the old "I've got a good excuse" excuse. Since we last were together, I have turned 35, celebrated Turkey day (in OCTOBER, the way it should be haha), watched my amazing daughter turn 5, dressed the kids up for Hallowe'en, remembered with great admiration the incredible sacrifices made by so many, received a late night phone call letting me know our 2 car family is now down to 1, watched an entire stage of JK/SK kids wiggle their little butts, pop up like icicles...and oh ya, somewhere in there I became a mother of THREE!
Friday, December 23, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
It's All About Percentages
Chances of being RH negative? 15%.
Chances of having Celiac Disease? 1 in 133.
Chances of having a son needing hypospadias repair? Varies from 1 in 150 to 1 in 300.
Chances of a fetus developing Choroid Plexus Cysts? 1 to 2%.
It's all about percentages. And I have all of the above. Being RH negative is quite literally a pain in the ass, but easily dealt with with 2 shots per pregnancy. No side effects, no worries. Just making sure your body doesn't reject your new little bundle for having a "positive" baby daddy.
Having Celiacs can also be a literal pain in the ass...or gut, or stomach, etc. An annoying and very sneaky disease, but easily managed with a gluten free diet for the rest of your life. I don't complain about having it. So I can't eat an entire basket of warm bread served while I wait for my meal at the Keg. So what? I don't have to endure chemo or dialysis. This won't kill me...just put me at higher risk for things that could later on.
Hypospadias repair was by far the worst I've had to endure with my son. Again, not a life threatening condition and at the end of it all, I got to take my son home healthy and...well after months of recovery, happy. I don't ever want to have to watch nurses wheel my son through oversized hospital doors in a metal crib while he rests on all fours, crying and reaching for me ever again.
Little Wayne Gretzky? He's no exception. He's decided to develop a cyst on his little brain that I'll find out next week if it's disappeared as it should have by now. Again, nothing to really worry about...it's basically an air bubble that appears, then goes away on it's own before 30 weeks gestation...normally. And even if it doesn't, it doesn't really mean much of anything. Generally people have no side effects from being born with one. However, as you might have noticed, if there's a relatively small percentage of the population to have something, apparently I'm on it like pig on sh!t.
Again, I'm really not complaining about things. I have it easy. My kids are happy and healthy and so are my husband and I. We know how incredibly lucky we are every day. And, the possibility of this little cyst remaining in my developing little man's brain allowed me to see him when I've never seen either of my other 2. All squished in, folded up and hiding his face from the camera.
Chances of having Celiac Disease? 1 in 133.
Chances of having a son needing hypospadias repair? Varies from 1 in 150 to 1 in 300.
Chances of a fetus developing Choroid Plexus Cysts? 1 to 2%.
It's all about percentages. And I have all of the above. Being RH negative is quite literally a pain in the ass, but easily dealt with with 2 shots per pregnancy. No side effects, no worries. Just making sure your body doesn't reject your new little bundle for having a "positive" baby daddy.
Having Celiacs can also be a literal pain in the ass...or gut, or stomach, etc. An annoying and very sneaky disease, but easily managed with a gluten free diet for the rest of your life. I don't complain about having it. So I can't eat an entire basket of warm bread served while I wait for my meal at the Keg. So what? I don't have to endure chemo or dialysis. This won't kill me...just put me at higher risk for things that could later on.
Hypospadias repair was by far the worst I've had to endure with my son. Again, not a life threatening condition and at the end of it all, I got to take my son home healthy and...well after months of recovery, happy. I don't ever want to have to watch nurses wheel my son through oversized hospital doors in a metal crib while he rests on all fours, crying and reaching for me ever again.
Little Wayne Gretzky? He's no exception. He's decided to develop a cyst on his little brain that I'll find out next week if it's disappeared as it should have by now. Again, nothing to really worry about...it's basically an air bubble that appears, then goes away on it's own before 30 weeks gestation...normally. And even if it doesn't, it doesn't really mean much of anything. Generally people have no side effects from being born with one. However, as you might have noticed, if there's a relatively small percentage of the population to have something, apparently I'm on it like pig on sh!t.
Again, I'm really not complaining about things. I have it easy. My kids are happy and healthy and so are my husband and I. We know how incredibly lucky we are every day. And, the possibility of this little cyst remaining in my developing little man's brain allowed me to see him when I've never seen either of my other 2. All squished in, folded up and hiding his face from the camera.
So, here I sit. 32 weeks in with anywhere between 7 and 9 left to go. 100% excited to meet Wayne Gretzky and watch his big brother and sister fawn over him, love him, wake him up from the only nap he's taken all day and trying to mail him to a far off place to get back to their version of normal again.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
I Gotta Go Peeeeee
So my 2.5 year old son has been potty trained for quite some time now. The occasional accident seeps in here and there, but for the most part, this kid has been a Pull-Up free, Spiderman/Buzz Lightyear/Lightening McQueen big boy underwear phenomenon.
He made it almost too easy. He wanted to use the potty just like his big sister...actually, he was far better at it than she was. Even over night was going tremendously well. Never wet his bed, wearing big boy underwear for 2 months all night with no issues...until a few nights ago. Total regression (IN MY DAMN BED) on that one. Oh well, sheets can be cleaned, mattresses decontaminated and Pull-Ups reapplied while sleeping. He asks each night now why he needs to wear them, but thankfully doesn't seem to be worried about it.
His game? EVERY time we set foot in the grocery store, he says he's got to go peeeeee. We kneel down to his level and have a heart to heart..."Do you really have to pee, or do you just want to go upstairs?". He swears he really needs to go. We, of course know better...but, when you're potty training a kid, you've got to listen when they say they need to go right?
So, thankfully today it was BEFORE I loaded up the cart and stood in line waiting to pay for the groceries (which is the usual case). Up we went, big sister in tow. She used the potty with great success. He however, sat there goofing around and whining that it wouldn't come out. I try to reason with him. Tell him that it's now or never, I'm NOT coming back up those stairs. I suggest trying the potty next door as it's a bit lower to the ground. Fine...next door we go. Nope, same devlish grin on his face. He says he just can't go and will wait until we get home. Ugh.
Fine, a-shopping we will go. Cart full, groceries paid for and packed up in the dreaded 5 cent plastic bags as I hadn't really planned on going shopping on the way home. Head back outside, find the car just where we left it, struggle to get 2 children out of the shopping cart (quite comical to watch a 7 month pregnant belleh deal with that I'm sure)...then wedge the 5 over sized scandalous plastic bags filled with gluten free pizza crusts, various fruits and cotton candy ice cream, into random spots between, behind and inside of the collapsed Joovy Caboose in the trunk.
Leave the parking lot..."Mommyyyyyy, I have to peeeeeee" comes from directly behind the driver's seat and with a quick glance in the mirror, I can see 2 little legs wiggling. Ugh number 2. I can see that he really does have to go, but really? What's a mother to do? Pull over to the non-existent shoulder on the road and let him pee on the grass? Nope. I visualize my drive home and what's on the road ahead.
Never thought I'd say this, but today, Taco Bell and KFC were my friends. Phew crisis averted...ice cream softened, but I'd take that over having to disassemble a car seat for a good old Friday night wash n' dry any day.
By the time we get home and I get everything and everyone unloaded, I hear those cursed words again. Seriously dude??? I have a 15" human practicing ancient martial arts on my bladder 24/7 and YOU have to pee? Again? Sure did. Like a trucker.
He made it almost too easy. He wanted to use the potty just like his big sister...actually, he was far better at it than she was. Even over night was going tremendously well. Never wet his bed, wearing big boy underwear for 2 months all night with no issues...until a few nights ago. Total regression (IN MY DAMN BED) on that one. Oh well, sheets can be cleaned, mattresses decontaminated and Pull-Ups reapplied while sleeping. He asks each night now why he needs to wear them, but thankfully doesn't seem to be worried about it.
His game? EVERY time we set foot in the grocery store, he says he's got to go peeeeee. We kneel down to his level and have a heart to heart..."Do you really have to pee, or do you just want to go upstairs?". He swears he really needs to go. We, of course know better...but, when you're potty training a kid, you've got to listen when they say they need to go right?
So, thankfully today it was BEFORE I loaded up the cart and stood in line waiting to pay for the groceries (which is the usual case). Up we went, big sister in tow. She used the potty with great success. He however, sat there goofing around and whining that it wouldn't come out. I try to reason with him. Tell him that it's now or never, I'm NOT coming back up those stairs. I suggest trying the potty next door as it's a bit lower to the ground. Fine...next door we go. Nope, same devlish grin on his face. He says he just can't go and will wait until we get home. Ugh.
Fine, a-shopping we will go. Cart full, groceries paid for and packed up in the dreaded 5 cent plastic bags as I hadn't really planned on going shopping on the way home. Head back outside, find the car just where we left it, struggle to get 2 children out of the shopping cart (quite comical to watch a 7 month pregnant belleh deal with that I'm sure)...then wedge the 5 over sized scandalous plastic bags filled with gluten free pizza crusts, various fruits and cotton candy ice cream, into random spots between, behind and inside of the collapsed Joovy Caboose in the trunk.
Leave the parking lot..."Mommyyyyyy, I have to peeeeeee" comes from directly behind the driver's seat and with a quick glance in the mirror, I can see 2 little legs wiggling. Ugh number 2. I can see that he really does have to go, but really? What's a mother to do? Pull over to the non-existent shoulder on the road and let him pee on the grass? Nope. I visualize my drive home and what's on the road ahead.
Never thought I'd say this, but today, Taco Bell and KFC were my friends. Phew crisis averted...ice cream softened, but I'd take that over having to disassemble a car seat for a good old Friday night wash n' dry any day.
By the time we get home and I get everything and everyone unloaded, I hear those cursed words again. Seriously dude??? I have a 15" human practicing ancient martial arts on my bladder 24/7 and YOU have to pee? Again? Sure did. Like a trucker.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
A Little Miracle
So today, my best friend gave birth to a beautiful, healthy and only a couple of weeks early, baby boy. Wee little Charlie has put his Mommy through the ringer (and his Daddy too), but he's here, he's healthy and he's 2 hours away from me. Damn kid.
Were it not for work, 2 small and 1 large gorgeous faces to come home to, I'd be at that hospital right now stealing snuggle time from a very proud Daddy, exhausted Mommy and ridiculously excited big sister. But, here I sit...itching to jump in the Yoda and head out there, gifts in tow.
Funny how when I talked to Charlie's Dad today, he kept asking me how I was doing...how my little one was treating me. Dude, I'm fine! I didn't just spew a watermelon out of places I wish I never knew about. Then I realize...sh#t, I'm about to do that...again.
Ah, I can handle that. I've done it twice before. Once induced (Madison, true to character, took her sweet old time showing her face) and once at home, as a surprise urgent delivery, masterfully handled by my Paramedic husband (he may not be allowed to handle electricity, but that man can deliver my baby any day...just not November 8th because that is SO not happening again this time).
My worries lie in what happens when "Wayne Gretzky" comes home. The cat will be pissed...possibly quite literally the bastard, the dog will be defeated..."oh great, another one". Madison will be a phenomenal help as she's already decided that she will be the one carrying her baby brother to his crib each night. Sure, knock yourself out, babies bounce right? Brayden...well, he'll have a love-hate relationship going on I think. He's a sweet, sweet boy and will adore his baby brother, but will HATE that he will have to wait 2.2 seconds to get his chocolate milk now that I have to remember how to pour while balancing an infant in my arms.
As I do live in Canada, is 1 month too early for an infant to be pulled around by his siblings on a toboggan in white out conditions? Thankfully we will be out of mosquito season by then so I don't have to worry about him being carried off by Deet-immune mutants...but then, there are the polar bears.
For some odd reason, the thing that stays on my mind the most, is how on Earth I will manage to get 3 kids aged 5 and under to bed each night. Short of duct taping them Red Green style to their beds, I guess I'll just have to figure that one out on the fly.
Now that I know little Charlie is here and he is safe, thanks to his amazing mother and father who endured I believe it was 8 weeks of bedrest and multiple trips to L&D...I swear that woman is a fighter far beyond anything X-tina could ever belt about...now that I know he's safe, little Wayne gets my full baby brain laden attention. Just under 14 weeks to go...Jesus H Christ, do you have any idea how fast 14 weeks goes??? Well, 13 will fly by. The final week will feel like a marathon at the end of the Lake Placid Ironman, right Kevin Conners?
Now I start trying to remember what babies need. Crib? Check. Blankets? Ridiculously checked. Clothes? Um...working on that one.
We'll get there. In 14 weeks, we'll be bringing home our own little miracle for the 3rd time. Until then, I get to enjoy my time as a Mommy of 2 incredible little people who make me laugh, smile, melt and want to punch a brick wall every day. Of course I don't...I don't think Tarion would cover that sort of damage.
Were it not for work, 2 small and 1 large gorgeous faces to come home to, I'd be at that hospital right now stealing snuggle time from a very proud Daddy, exhausted Mommy and ridiculously excited big sister. But, here I sit...itching to jump in the Yoda and head out there, gifts in tow.
Funny how when I talked to Charlie's Dad today, he kept asking me how I was doing...how my little one was treating me. Dude, I'm fine! I didn't just spew a watermelon out of places I wish I never knew about. Then I realize...sh#t, I'm about to do that...again.
Ah, I can handle that. I've done it twice before. Once induced (Madison, true to character, took her sweet old time showing her face) and once at home, as a surprise urgent delivery, masterfully handled by my Paramedic husband (he may not be allowed to handle electricity, but that man can deliver my baby any day...just not November 8th because that is SO not happening again this time).
My worries lie in what happens when "Wayne Gretzky" comes home. The cat will be pissed...possibly quite literally the bastard, the dog will be defeated..."oh great, another one". Madison will be a phenomenal help as she's already decided that she will be the one carrying her baby brother to his crib each night. Sure, knock yourself out, babies bounce right? Brayden...well, he'll have a love-hate relationship going on I think. He's a sweet, sweet boy and will adore his baby brother, but will HATE that he will have to wait 2.2 seconds to get his chocolate milk now that I have to remember how to pour while balancing an infant in my arms.
As I do live in Canada, is 1 month too early for an infant to be pulled around by his siblings on a toboggan in white out conditions? Thankfully we will be out of mosquito season by then so I don't have to worry about him being carried off by Deet-immune mutants...but then, there are the polar bears.
For some odd reason, the thing that stays on my mind the most, is how on Earth I will manage to get 3 kids aged 5 and under to bed each night. Short of duct taping them Red Green style to their beds, I guess I'll just have to figure that one out on the fly.
Now that I know little Charlie is here and he is safe, thanks to his amazing mother and father who endured I believe it was 8 weeks of bedrest and multiple trips to L&D...I swear that woman is a fighter far beyond anything X-tina could ever belt about...now that I know he's safe, little Wayne gets my full baby brain laden attention. Just under 14 weeks to go...Jesus H Christ, do you have any idea how fast 14 weeks goes??? Well, 13 will fly by. The final week will feel like a marathon at the end of the Lake Placid Ironman, right Kevin Conners?
Now I start trying to remember what babies need. Crib? Check. Blankets? Ridiculously checked. Clothes? Um...working on that one.
We'll get there. In 14 weeks, we'll be bringing home our own little miracle for the 3rd time. Until then, I get to enjoy my time as a Mommy of 2 incredible little people who make me laugh, smile, melt and want to punch a brick wall every day. Of course I don't...I don't think Tarion would cover that sort of damage.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
22 Weeks and Counting
Alright, so I haven't been on here in a while. Well 2 months, so a long while. I've had a few other things on the go.
To update you on the happenings of baby #3, it's been fairly calm really. My monthly 60 second check up at the doctor is always normal. Blood pressure is incredible, heartbeat is there and I'm called "a machine". Same old same old. And no, I'm not complaining about that. I'm very aware that I am a lucky pregnant lady and yes...I know that most friends, although wonderful and so excited for us...secretly curse my name. While I've had friends deliver preemies 8 weeks before the charts said they should and wind up in hospitals for weeks before coming home, my kids either hang out for an extra 10 days packin' on the pounds, or shove themselves out on their due date within minutes.
The age old question of "are you finding out the gender?" has been answered. For the first time we decided to find out what we were having. I didn't really want to know, but I decided that Madison would be dealing with enough with a new baby in the house that she didn't need to add the "shock" of it being a boy at the same time. So, Madison decided that if we were having a girl, we would call her Hannah Montana until she was born. Brayden didn't hesitate in naming a boy Wayne Gretzky. Can't really argue with that one...he IS the Great One afterall. Off to the ultrasound, bladder thoroughly filled and we left with a blue cookie. Wayne Gretzky it is!!
So, here I sit, 22.5 weeks in and counting. Tired, busy as all Hell, with a boy in my gut who randomly decides my sciatic nerve is his favourite play thing. 17.5 weeks to go! Sh$t. Are we seriously doing this again? Hells yes and we're doing it balls out.
To update you on the happenings of baby #3, it's been fairly calm really. My monthly 60 second check up at the doctor is always normal. Blood pressure is incredible, heartbeat is there and I'm called "a machine". Same old same old. And no, I'm not complaining about that. I'm very aware that I am a lucky pregnant lady and yes...I know that most friends, although wonderful and so excited for us...secretly curse my name. While I've had friends deliver preemies 8 weeks before the charts said they should and wind up in hospitals for weeks before coming home, my kids either hang out for an extra 10 days packin' on the pounds, or shove themselves out on their due date within minutes.
The age old question of "are you finding out the gender?" has been answered. For the first time we decided to find out what we were having. I didn't really want to know, but I decided that Madison would be dealing with enough with a new baby in the house that she didn't need to add the "shock" of it being a boy at the same time. So, Madison decided that if we were having a girl, we would call her Hannah Montana until she was born. Brayden didn't hesitate in naming a boy Wayne Gretzky. Can't really argue with that one...he IS the Great One afterall. Off to the ultrasound, bladder thoroughly filled and we left with a blue cookie. Wayne Gretzky it is!!
So, here I sit, 22.5 weeks in and counting. Tired, busy as all Hell, with a boy in my gut who randomly decides my sciatic nerve is his favourite play thing. 17.5 weeks to go! Sh$t. Are we seriously doing this again? Hells yes and we're doing it balls out.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Something So Simple
Who would have thought that something so simple could bring such a huge smile to 4 faces today (well, 5 if you count the dog)?
Wellies, rubber boots, rain boots...whatever you call them...were the catalyst of joy on a cold and rainy Sunday afternoon. Ignoring the 20 minute fight to get 2 small children ready to head out (including convincing/forcing them to wear sweaters under their raincoats, splash pants over their legs and their wellies instead of the fancy light up Spiderman running shoes that are the current favourite), then rainy days in our house RULE!
We decided to be good dog owners and bring along the pooch too. If she could full-on smile, she most definitely did today.
Trudging along behind a 2 year old in a bright yellow slicker, navy splash pants and yellow wellies, a 4 year old wearing a pink raincoat lined with apple patterned fabric, pink splash pants and pink princess adorned wellies, finding any and every giant puddle along the pathway through the park behind our house...priceless.
I was wearing my $12 Walmart special wellies too, so I joined right in. Because it was pouring rain, no-one else was outdoors, so we let Suki run loose for a while in the park as well (don't tell the neighbours...though I'm sure many of them were staring at us through cracked blinds, shaking their heads in disbelief...we were crazy and we loved it). Today, I was the best Mommy ever for about 20 minutes. To see the absolute joy on the faces of my kids, by simply letting them run wild through countless puddles and splashing as much as they wanted...I would do that any day of the week. Hell, I'd be willing to flood the backyard to see that again. I think Andrew would too.
A walk in the rain. Splashing to our heart's content. Watching the family of geese teaching their babies how to swim in the pond behind our house. Watching the dog run freely through the fields. We all had so much fun doing something so simple.
Wellies, rubber boots, rain boots...whatever you call them...were the catalyst of joy on a cold and rainy Sunday afternoon. Ignoring the 20 minute fight to get 2 small children ready to head out (including convincing/forcing them to wear sweaters under their raincoats, splash pants over their legs and their wellies instead of the fancy light up Spiderman running shoes that are the current favourite), then rainy days in our house RULE!
We decided to be good dog owners and bring along the pooch too. If she could full-on smile, she most definitely did today.
Trudging along behind a 2 year old in a bright yellow slicker, navy splash pants and yellow wellies, a 4 year old wearing a pink raincoat lined with apple patterned fabric, pink splash pants and pink princess adorned wellies, finding any and every giant puddle along the pathway through the park behind our house...priceless.
I was wearing my $12 Walmart special wellies too, so I joined right in. Because it was pouring rain, no-one else was outdoors, so we let Suki run loose for a while in the park as well (don't tell the neighbours...though I'm sure many of them were staring at us through cracked blinds, shaking their heads in disbelief...we were crazy and we loved it). Today, I was the best Mommy ever for about 20 minutes. To see the absolute joy on the faces of my kids, by simply letting them run wild through countless puddles and splashing as much as they wanted...I would do that any day of the week. Hell, I'd be willing to flood the backyard to see that again. I think Andrew would too.
A walk in the rain. Splashing to our heart's content. Watching the family of geese teaching their babies how to swim in the pond behind our house. Watching the dog run freely through the fields. We all had so much fun doing something so simple.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Make That 1.5
Remember that post I did not too long ago? The one about the babies surrounding me...old classmates, best friends, celebrities. And how I was "happy" when I could send those adorable mini people back home to their Mommies...ya, well SCRAP THAT!!
My million dollar family is now worth a cool 1.5. Baby #3 will make their debut sometime in early November. We're happy, we're excited...we're exhausted.
Madison insists that this be a baby sister for her. Brayden says it's a boy baby. Madison, my stubborn little mini-me, INSISTS this be a baby sister. We'll see who gets their way soon enough.
Oh and if ONE more person asks me if we were trying, I think I might turn all Mama Bear on their ass.
So, this summer, while many of you are quite literally working your asses off...I'll be getting nice and fat, eating my (gluten free) cake...and yours...and yours...
My million dollar family is now worth a cool 1.5. Baby #3 will make their debut sometime in early November. We're happy, we're excited...we're exhausted.
Madison insists that this be a baby sister for her. Brayden says it's a boy baby. Madison, my stubborn little mini-me, INSISTS this be a baby sister. We'll see who gets their way soon enough.
Oh and if ONE more person asks me if we were trying, I think I might turn all Mama Bear on their ass.
So, this summer, while many of you are quite literally working your asses off...I'll be getting nice and fat, eating my (gluten free) cake...and yours...and yours...
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