Posts
THIRSTY
HUNGRY
CLIMBING MOUNT YORKVILLE
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN
RACE YA!
THE SUMMIT
HOW'D HE GET HERE?
HOG IN HOGTOWN
DOG IN HOGTOWN
(little G took the dog shot -not bad, eh?)
HAPPY WINNERS EVERYONE!
For other winners, visit LOTUS.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Weekly Winners #34 - Summer in the City
For other winners, visit LOTUS.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Fashion Friday: Back to School Edition
I haven't posted a Fashion Friday in a while for the main reason that I haven't added any interesting finds to my closet. In fact, I need to purge it in order to make room for more. And before I make room for more, I must lose the SEVEN POUNDS that I gained in one month. Drinking and eating. Ugh. One month of Bodyjam once a week is just not enough. I'm hopeful that once the kids are in school and I can get back into a routine again of going to the gym at least three times a week, this will change.
Today we focus on the kids' back to school fashion purchases. It's that time of year again. Besides school supplies, my aim for this week was to buy some new shoes for the boy, and to see if there was anything else that struck his fancy. At the ripe old age of eight, he has a definite opinion on what he will and will not wear.
We headed to H & M, which I find is a great place for the kids and myself ... but wait, not about myself today. Can you believe that I did NOT look at ANYTHING for myself? NOTHING. Big pats on my own back.
What we did see right away in the boys' size 8-18 section was a nice selection of argyle sweaters. I bypassed them as usual, but to my utter surprise, the boy called to me and said "Mom, I want THAT look". That look included an argyle sweater.
My boy, who has spent the last year in T-shirts, athletic pants, the occasional jeans, but for summer, only basketball shorts. Not only did he like the look, he ran to the accessories section to find the perfect additions to what he saw. And this is what he came up with:
A tweed cap and scarf? OMG!!!! He had his shades on too ... what a hoot! Combine this with the following OP shoes we picked up at Walmart (which I know will fall apart within a week, but he loved them) and some jeans that still fit him...
And he's set.
Another purchase at Walmart, this graffiti hoodie:
He is stylin', this kid! And it happened over night!
Of course, we cannot forget the girl, because she will not let us. Last season it was My Little Pony, but no more ...
And for dance class:
I am afraid that I have created a couple of mini-me retail monsters. We had such a fun time in the change rooms; the kids were laughing and showing each other their outfits. Not fighting for even one second. I think I need to get more work.
Finally, a little someone is so excited about starting school for the very first time:
And now I'm going to cry.
Today we focus on the kids' back to school fashion purchases. It's that time of year again. Besides school supplies, my aim for this week was to buy some new shoes for the boy, and to see if there was anything else that struck his fancy. At the ripe old age of eight, he has a definite opinion on what he will and will not wear.
We headed to H & M, which I find is a great place for the kids and myself ... but wait, not about myself today. Can you believe that I did NOT look at ANYTHING for myself? NOTHING. Big pats on my own back.
What we did see right away in the boys' size 8-18 section was a nice selection of argyle sweaters. I bypassed them as usual, but to my utter surprise, the boy called to me and said "Mom, I want THAT look". That look included an argyle sweater.
My boy, who has spent the last year in T-shirts, athletic pants, the occasional jeans, but for summer, only basketball shorts. Not only did he like the look, he ran to the accessories section to find the perfect additions to what he saw. And this is what he came up with:
A tweed cap and scarf? OMG!!!! He had his shades on too ... what a hoot! Combine this with the following OP shoes we picked up at Walmart (which I know will fall apart within a week, but he loved them) and some jeans that still fit him...
And he's set.
Another purchase at Walmart, this graffiti hoodie:
He is stylin', this kid! And it happened over night!
Of course, we cannot forget the girl, because she will not let us. Last season it was My Little Pony, but no more ...
And for dance class:
I am afraid that I have created a couple of mini-me retail monsters. We had such a fun time in the change rooms; the kids were laughing and showing each other their outfits. Not fighting for even one second. I think I need to get more work.
Finally, a little someone is so excited about starting school for the very first time:
And now I'm going to cry.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Double Happiness
( symbolic of weddings and wedding celebrations)
Fifteen years ago today, we said "I do".
We survived the wedding planning (you were smart, leaving most of it to me).
We survived the marriage course (wasn't that fun attending it with the girl who was crushing on you in university, there with her fiance).
And after the crazy weekend of celebrations, where we made our grand entrance in through the out door to the lovely strains of the theme from "The Young and the Restless"...
and the following evening you killed them with your karaoke capabilities (Elvis not once, twice, but three times?)
...we settled into married life.
What did that mean for us? Finally living in the same city. Together. Condo living by the market. Being able to stroll to the skating rink by the lake; to walk to see Iggy Pop in concert. Enjoying downtown living as a carefree twosome. And both working in the burbs. Kind of ironic. Family wasn't in the plans for a couple of years yet.
And when those plans went awry; when the carefully constructed Type A life-plan was blown away by the cruel fate? You were my strength; following my lead when I needed to be followed, but enveloping me with encouragement, optimism and love; pulling me along when I felt I couldn't do it any longer.
Life is so full of unknowns.
But You knew.
And you still know.
As do I.
The one thing in life that I am absolutely certain of, is how lucky I am. To have you, our children, our marriage. How lucky indeed.
Happy Anniversary.
And you still know.
As do I.
The one thing in life that I am absolutely certain of, is how lucky I am. To have you, our children, our marriage. How lucky indeed.
Happy Anniversary.
Shiny Double Happy Family
Monday, August 25, 2008
That Was My Life
Artificial Insemination. Something that's always sounded so foreign to me; foreign as in "out of this world - alien". If you had asked me when I was younger whether it would become a crucial part of my world for well over a year, I would never, ever have believed it.
When we signed up with the clinic to begin our quest for our second child, we felt that we knew the score. We decided based on my age, and our lack of success conceiving the traditional way (we're way too radical, don't you know?) ... we would bypass the drug and timed intercourse step and go straight to AI, or IUI (Intrauterine Insemination), a more commonly used term nowadays.
Or why don't we just call it the turkey baster method? Why leave anything to chance, when a tube will do?
So we were back on the Clomid and monitoring train again. We had the boy in daycare fulltime so that was at least covered. Either I or the man would drop our boy off early and I would head to the clinic for blood work before getting back to the office by 8:30 AM. No one at work would be the wiser.
Especially if I wore sleeves all the time. Oh, the poking. And lucky me, my phlebotomist could never get blood on the first prick. NEVER. We would have to switch arms so often, I would forget which arm she did each day (as we tried to alternate). And it would KILL me; as if the whole process wasn't bad enough, I would be guaranteed to have a major bruise on either or both arms as a result. (I don't get it, she was a nice enough lady, but this was her job, and from other discussions in the waiting room, I wasn't the only one who dreaded seeing her every morning...).
The transvaginal ultrasounds, they weren't everyday. They had everything timed so that I should only have to come in for an U/S once per cycle, based on the levels of hormones in my bloodwork. I would keep my fingers crossed that there would be multiple follicles, and that they would be progressing well. If the follicles were large enough, then we could time the HCG shot, and schedule the IUI. And I would make up some excuse for coming in late to work if IUI day happened during the week.
To say this was stressful was such an understatement. I felt very alone in the process - I couldn't help but feel it. I would go for the monitoring on my own; I would wait in the waiting room for my u/s... be given the instructions for the HCG shot. It wasn't that Ian wasn't involved or was detaching himself from the process; there was only so much he could do. Of course the one thing he had to do on demand likely wasn't so much fun either.
The very first IUI I had done was a disaster. I went on my own for purely logistical reasons. The one thing that Ian and I had discussed was that I ask that the sample being used was the right one. I said to Ian that I was sure that they had the procedure in place to make sure of that, but he was adamant that I at least doublecheck.
As I lay there waiting for the doctor to come into the room (and I wasn't sure who it was going to be; there was a roster of doctors who rotated based on availability), I just proceeded to get more nervous as the minutes went by. When the doctor came in, he introduced himself, told me what to expect, what to do, and asked if I had any questions. So I asked.
And I got a big lecture on how these things are quality controlled, it was impossible for the wrong sample, this wasn't a 2-bit operation, the clinic had years of experience, yada, yada, yada... and here, take a look, is that your name?
GAWD!!! I was speechless, felt that I had been told right off. All I could do was lie back, let the procedure happen. And know that the chances of this particular one being successful were likely next to none.
It wasn't until later that I felt enraged. I felt it was within my rights to ask. But I just kept it in. After all, at this point, I really felt that I needed the clinic a lot more than they needed me. Just sitting in the waiting room, and waiting with other desperate people, that was evidence enough.
Funnily enough, after my first IUI, the clinic got an audit as they were being certified. I never got that particular doctor again (thank God) but before each of the next procedures took place, I had to look at the sample, read the name, and sign off that I had checked it. I guess it wasn't such a stupid question after all.
But no matter, another 4 attempts at IUI, scheduled in and around the nightmare of SARS, 2003 was not the productive year we had hoped it would be. At my fourth procedure, I asked the nurse how often people usually go with the IUI step before moving on. She said on average, about six times. So we made an appointment to speak with our doctor again.
After our fifth failed attempt, in the late fall of 2003, we decided to stop with the IUIs. I was going nuts with all the failures; I was driving the man nuts; and although I'm sure our little boy wasn't feeling any ill effects as a result of my obsession, I didn't want it to get to the point where he WOULD start feeling them.
We had a major decision to make.
******
A big hit of 2003 - I still prefer the original Talk Talk version, but Gwennie, she didn't do too bad a job of it.
When we signed up with the clinic to begin our quest for our second child, we felt that we knew the score. We decided based on my age, and our lack of success conceiving the traditional way (we're way too radical, don't you know?) ... we would bypass the drug and timed intercourse step and go straight to AI, or IUI (Intrauterine Insemination), a more commonly used term nowadays.
Or why don't we just call it the turkey baster method? Why leave anything to chance, when a tube will do?
So we were back on the Clomid and monitoring train again. We had the boy in daycare fulltime so that was at least covered. Either I or the man would drop our boy off early and I would head to the clinic for blood work before getting back to the office by 8:30 AM. No one at work would be the wiser.
Especially if I wore sleeves all the time. Oh, the poking. And lucky me, my phlebotomist could never get blood on the first prick. NEVER. We would have to switch arms so often, I would forget which arm she did each day (as we tried to alternate). And it would KILL me; as if the whole process wasn't bad enough, I would be guaranteed to have a major bruise on either or both arms as a result. (I don't get it, she was a nice enough lady, but this was her job, and from other discussions in the waiting room, I wasn't the only one who dreaded seeing her every morning...).
The transvaginal ultrasounds, they weren't everyday. They had everything timed so that I should only have to come in for an U/S once per cycle, based on the levels of hormones in my bloodwork. I would keep my fingers crossed that there would be multiple follicles, and that they would be progressing well. If the follicles were large enough, then we could time the HCG shot, and schedule the IUI. And I would make up some excuse for coming in late to work if IUI day happened during the week.
To say this was stressful was such an understatement. I felt very alone in the process - I couldn't help but feel it. I would go for the monitoring on my own; I would wait in the waiting room for my u/s... be given the instructions for the HCG shot. It wasn't that Ian wasn't involved or was detaching himself from the process; there was only so much he could do. Of course the one thing he had to do on demand likely wasn't so much fun either.
The very first IUI I had done was a disaster. I went on my own for purely logistical reasons. The one thing that Ian and I had discussed was that I ask that the sample being used was the right one. I said to Ian that I was sure that they had the procedure in place to make sure of that, but he was adamant that I at least doublecheck.
As I lay there waiting for the doctor to come into the room (and I wasn't sure who it was going to be; there was a roster of doctors who rotated based on availability), I just proceeded to get more nervous as the minutes went by. When the doctor came in, he introduced himself, told me what to expect, what to do, and asked if I had any questions. So I asked.
And I got a big lecture on how these things are quality controlled, it was impossible for the wrong sample, this wasn't a 2-bit operation, the clinic had years of experience, yada, yada, yada... and here, take a look, is that your name?
GAWD!!! I was speechless, felt that I had been told right off. All I could do was lie back, let the procedure happen. And know that the chances of this particular one being successful were likely next to none.
It wasn't until later that I felt enraged. I felt it was within my rights to ask. But I just kept it in. After all, at this point, I really felt that I needed the clinic a lot more than they needed me. Just sitting in the waiting room, and waiting with other desperate people, that was evidence enough.
Funnily enough, after my first IUI, the clinic got an audit as they were being certified. I never got that particular doctor again (thank God) but before each of the next procedures took place, I had to look at the sample, read the name, and sign off that I had checked it. I guess it wasn't such a stupid question after all.
But no matter, another 4 attempts at IUI, scheduled in and around the nightmare of SARS, 2003 was not the productive year we had hoped it would be. At my fourth procedure, I asked the nurse how often people usually go with the IUI step before moving on. She said on average, about six times. So we made an appointment to speak with our doctor again.
After our fifth failed attempt, in the late fall of 2003, we decided to stop with the IUIs. I was going nuts with all the failures; I was driving the man nuts; and although I'm sure our little boy wasn't feeling any ill effects as a result of my obsession, I didn't want it to get to the point where he WOULD start feeling them.
We had a major decision to make.
******
A big hit of 2003 - I still prefer the original Talk Talk version, but Gwennie, she didn't do too bad a job of it.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Weekly Winners #33
(See below? I got 2 comments on a zero post!!! Thanks for the brain scratch, Maria ;)And now for a real post ...
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Taming my inner shrew
Why can't I just let it go?
I tend to overreact over simple, trivial things. I'm one of those quiet, seemingly well-tempered easy-going chicks who, behind closed doors, can go postal at the drop of a hat.
I think I come by this quite honestly. Although my parents were great while we were growing up, there was our fair share of yelling in the household. I also know from conversation overheard when my parents thought we weren't listening, that my maternal grandmother had a real temper. And through real life experience with my Dad's mother, I knew that she was a force to be reckoned with. And my Dad, also the strong silent type with the dry humour, but can flip if someone buds in front of him in a line-up.
I don't know if it's just that I keep it bottled up; if I just try to suppress my displeasure with things, until the pressure cooker within can no longer contain itself and I just combust. It's genetic, I tell ya.
Unfortunately, my spouse is the one who bears the brunt of Mt. Vesuvius erupting.
Here are a couple of examples:
Case A.
(Here's the back story: my 3.5 year old daughter is sleeping on the mattress on her bedroom floor. Yes, the mattress, as we didn't want her to fall off the bed when she switched from her crib. Yes, that's right, she's been on this mattress on the floor now for over TWO YEARS, exactly the length of time I've been asking for help moving the bedframe and box spring up from the basement. Something that hubby has been promising would be accomplished within this 4 week vacation, finally).
After the whirlwind anniversary trip, things came crashing back to reality on the Monday. We were hosting my "high school reunion" of sorts with four friends, and we hadn't all been together in one room since Ian and my wedding day. Two of them now live out of the country. This also happens to be the - 'ahem' - 25th anniversary of our graduation. Yuck. So I was running around all day preparing the place for the occasion. Nothing special, just needing to tidy it up after being in and out over the last couple of weeks, laundry here and there, unpacking to do etc...Hubby was catching up on e:mails and some work that he was trying to keep up on. Penance for taking so many weeks off.
I finally managed to step out to buy the groceries to prepare the dinner, by about 2:30 PM. We had told people to come by around 5/ 5:30 as it was a weeknight, and it would also be early enough that the kids could play (yes, we invited everyone with their families). I also offered to go the liquor/beer store to pick up the booze, which is usually the "man's" job when we entertain. But he said he'd take care of it.
So when I got back with all the groceries just after 3:30PM, and heard rumbling down in the basement, and the voices of my kids with hubby, I yelled downstairs and asked incredulously :
"Uh, you aren't by chance MOVING THE GIRLIE'S BED UPSTAIRS NOW are you?!!"
Husband responds: "Well, you've been asking me to move it".
Me: "We've got people coming for dinner in an hour and a half and you're bringing up the bed NOW???!!! Unbelievable!! DO NOT move it up. G will want people to come to her room to play, and I guarantee you won't have the frame up in time, it will be sitting there for kids to run into and crack their knees open with the metal corners. NOT A GOOD IDEA!!!"
Muttering to myself ... I cannot frickin' believe it...
(BTW, the above is a modified polite version)
Husband: "All right, take it easy. Poor judgement perhaps, but don't get so mad at me, it's totally uncalled for!"
Me: "Would you go to the liquor store now? I don't want to be all by myself when guests come which happens about 85% of the time! " (yup, this is me picking a fight)
Husband: "What do you mean, that never happens".
Me: "Oh yes it does, you're getting better, but I swear since we've been married, every time we entertain you run out at the last minute to get booze and I'm by myself to get the door, drinks, and continue to prepare the app's and food..."
And then he went off to have a shower and pop out for the booze.
Case B:
We're rushing around madly to try to get packed and get to the amusement park for the early bird entrance (season's pass holders can get in an hour earlier on certain days). I'm getting the kids dressed, slathered with sunscreen, and had the water bottles on the counter in the kitchen ready to be filled.
As I rush upstairs to finish getting ready myself, I hear the hubby yell that he'll take care of the water bottles.
30 minutes later at the entrance of the park:
We're at the gate where they standardly ask to look at the backpacks. I pull the pack out from the stroller basket and out pours water from the bottom of the pack, and the stroller basket has a small pond in it. I hear the hubby: "What happened there?"
I peer at him with "the look'.
We get through security, and I pull out the backpack, dump out the water, check all the bottles and notice that one of them is COMPLETELY UNSCREWED (you know, the Sigg kind), so of course it would have poured into the pack. Over the spare clothes; but thank goodness I pulled his wallet out.
As he came through the gate I just glared at him as he said, "What, I screwed all of the tops on tight!!".
Me: "Yeah, I guess so tight that it was completely off."
Hubby:" Come on, it's just water. Lighten up a little. Look at your miserable face, it's so sour!" and then he laughs at me.
I shook it off, but it just really irked me to no end. I knew it was a little thing, but I found it oh just sooooo annoying.
******
So yes, you heard it here first. I'm probably the only woman in the world who freaks out at her husband for trying to help out.
Am I insane? I told you I have a problem. Help. Me.
*******
The bedframe, well, it's still gathering dust in the basement as I write this. It is the last day of husband's vacation.
So for now, will you at least pass me another glass of wine?
I tend to overreact over simple, trivial things. I'm one of those quiet, seemingly well-tempered easy-going chicks who, behind closed doors, can go postal at the drop of a hat.
I think I come by this quite honestly. Although my parents were great while we were growing up, there was our fair share of yelling in the household. I also know from conversation overheard when my parents thought we weren't listening, that my maternal grandmother had a real temper. And through real life experience with my Dad's mother, I knew that she was a force to be reckoned with. And my Dad, also the strong silent type with the dry humour, but can flip if someone buds in front of him in a line-up.
I don't know if it's just that I keep it bottled up; if I just try to suppress my displeasure with things, until the pressure cooker within can no longer contain itself and I just combust. It's genetic, I tell ya.
Unfortunately, my spouse is the one who bears the brunt of Mt. Vesuvius erupting.
Here are a couple of examples:
Case A.
(Here's the back story: my 3.5 year old daughter is sleeping on the mattress on her bedroom floor. Yes, the mattress, as we didn't want her to fall off the bed when she switched from her crib. Yes, that's right, she's been on this mattress on the floor now for over TWO YEARS, exactly the length of time I've been asking for help moving the bedframe and box spring up from the basement. Something that hubby has been promising would be accomplished within this 4 week vacation, finally).
After the whirlwind anniversary trip, things came crashing back to reality on the Monday. We were hosting my "high school reunion" of sorts with four friends, and we hadn't all been together in one room since Ian and my wedding day. Two of them now live out of the country. This also happens to be the - 'ahem' - 25th anniversary of our graduation. Yuck. So I was running around all day preparing the place for the occasion. Nothing special, just needing to tidy it up after being in and out over the last couple of weeks, laundry here and there, unpacking to do etc...Hubby was catching up on e:mails and some work that he was trying to keep up on. Penance for taking so many weeks off.
I finally managed to step out to buy the groceries to prepare the dinner, by about 2:30 PM. We had told people to come by around 5/ 5:30 as it was a weeknight, and it would also be early enough that the kids could play (yes, we invited everyone with their families). I also offered to go the liquor/beer store to pick up the booze, which is usually the "man's" job when we entertain. But he said he'd take care of it.
So when I got back with all the groceries just after 3:30PM, and heard rumbling down in the basement, and the voices of my kids with hubby, I yelled downstairs and asked incredulously :
"Uh, you aren't by chance MOVING THE GIRLIE'S BED UPSTAIRS NOW are you?!!"
Husband responds: "Well, you've been asking me to move it".
Me: "We've got people coming for dinner in an hour and a half and you're bringing up the bed NOW???!!! Unbelievable!! DO NOT move it up. G will want people to come to her room to play, and I guarantee you won't have the frame up in time, it will be sitting there for kids to run into and crack their knees open with the metal corners. NOT A GOOD IDEA!!!"
Muttering to myself ... I cannot frickin' believe it...
(BTW, the above is a modified polite version)
Husband: "All right, take it easy. Poor judgement perhaps, but don't get so mad at me, it's totally uncalled for!"
Me: "Would you go to the liquor store now? I don't want to be all by myself when guests come which happens about 85% of the time! " (yup, this is me picking a fight)
Husband: "What do you mean, that never happens".
Me: "Oh yes it does, you're getting better, but I swear since we've been married, every time we entertain you run out at the last minute to get booze and I'm by myself to get the door, drinks, and continue to prepare the app's and food..."
And then he went off to have a shower and pop out for the booze.
Case B:
We're rushing around madly to try to get packed and get to the amusement park for the early bird entrance (season's pass holders can get in an hour earlier on certain days). I'm getting the kids dressed, slathered with sunscreen, and had the water bottles on the counter in the kitchen ready to be filled.
As I rush upstairs to finish getting ready myself, I hear the hubby yell that he'll take care of the water bottles.
30 minutes later at the entrance of the park:
We're at the gate where they standardly ask to look at the backpacks. I pull the pack out from the stroller basket and out pours water from the bottom of the pack, and the stroller basket has a small pond in it. I hear the hubby: "What happened there?"
I peer at him with "the look'.
We get through security, and I pull out the backpack, dump out the water, check all the bottles and notice that one of them is COMPLETELY UNSCREWED (you know, the Sigg kind), so of course it would have poured into the pack. Over the spare clothes; but thank goodness I pulled his wallet out.
As he came through the gate I just glared at him as he said, "What, I screwed all of the tops on tight!!".
Me: "Yeah, I guess so tight that it was completely off."
Hubby:" Come on, it's just water. Lighten up a little. Look at your miserable face, it's so sour!" and then he laughs at me.
I shook it off, but it just really irked me to no end. I knew it was a little thing, but I found it oh just sooooo annoying.
******
So yes, you heard it here first. I'm probably the only woman in the world who freaks out at her husband for trying to help out.
Am I insane? I told you I have a problem. Help. Me.
*******
The bedframe, well, it's still gathering dust in the basement as I write this. It is the last day of husband's vacation.
So for now, will you at least pass me another glass of wine?
Thursday, August 21, 2008
So what did we talk about? - Thursday Thirteen
Well, you've likely noticed I've been significantly MIA in the "real blog posting" realm the last little while. Mostly because my real life got in the way.
So I present to you my online scrapbook (read: long post with pictures) in lieu of some heartwrenching, thought-provoking introspective blog posting. My blog-brain is on vacay.
We had a couple days at my sister-in-law's family cottage, and then another couple of lovely days at my hubby's boss's cottage (which was uber lovely, because our kids were of similar ages so we - gasp - had some ADULT time!).
And then we embarked on the long awaited early anniversary weekend away. Sans kids.
Without further adieu, the following is the bullety lowdown:
1/ Dropped the kids off at the sister's house downtown. My sister is so energetic, she takes on two kids on top of her one year old, and plans the ENTIRE weekend of activities for the kiddies, including Centre Island, Ward Island and High Park. Excellent plan on our part ... best that the kids be exhausted when we pick them up.
2/ Drove a long 2.5 hours to the lovely Niagara-on-the-Lake ... usually a 1.5 hour drive, but we were in Friday, get-out-of-city traffic. I cannot count the number of times "relax, enjoy the ride" were uttered to me on one hand. Oh to relax to the soothing sounds of Howard Stern interviewing Seth Rogen. Bliss.
(For those of you who don't know, this is a fabulous wine-region in Ontario, known in particular for ice wines. )
3/ Checked in to the lovely Shaw Club Inn with personalized service, a lounge complete with DVD library with some recent selections. And what? What's this? FREE computer and internet access in lounge?!!! Not that I noticed.
Our room was modern, zen with rain shower and a Cold Play CD playing as our background music. Just perfect. How did they know?
4/ Dinner downstairs at Zee's, with the largest patio in town, and a lovely view of main street. The menu? Goat cheese croque-monsieur salad and Morroccan spiced scallops; Pinot Noir and Blueberry Tea to complete the evening. Crab cakes and Lamb shanks for the man. Dee-Lish.
5/ One thing I love about Niagara-on-the-Lake is that I feel like a teenager whenever I'm there. It's got a large retirement community. The after dinner walk down Main Street made me feel almost giddy. Late night Peach Daiquiri made me giddilicious.
6/ Next morning, for some reason we were up at the ungodly hour of 6:30 AM, so watched the rest of "The Savages" which is, despite the brilliant performances and uplifting ending, a deep, and often depressing film. Not the best for an anniversary celebration. Oh well.
We had a nice breakfast, and headed over the the Shaw Club Spa for their decadent Couples package. A close friend of ours had warned us to avoid a "couples massage" at all costs because he found it too weird when he indulged with his wife, and the fact that two other individuals were with them while they were undressed ... well, you get what he meant. So in the spirit of all things weird, of course we just HAD to try it for ourselves.
It was actually quite fun and funny. I asked my therapist whether couples talk or are silent (of course, we being the odd balls, couldn't keep quiet); whether any couple had ever held hands during a side-by-side massage. And she said yes, but only once in her experience- awkward. And we laughed, all four of us.
Facials and pedicures completed the morning. The ladies who did these services were so pleasant and hilarious. We left the spa feeling rejuvenated, refreshed, and with a lovely bouquet of roses to symbolize the memories.
7/ On the agenda for the afternoon: a bike ride to some local wineries. But first a nice lunch at Charles Inn patio.
Lovely lunch - check.
Dessert for me: a bee sting that left a welt on my left thigh, the size of my fist and in the shape of Australia. Yikes! What is it about me and outdoors that does not mix?
The damn thing was resting comfortably in the folds of my napkin and got annoyed when I picked it up to wipe my mouth. Nice. Very romantic. And me, I'm not the greatest patient. Ian's first reaction - after I bit my lips, tears streaming down my face as I cursed in such a lady-like fashion and pulled out the stinger (which, by the way, you're NOT supposed to do. Scraping it out would have been better to avoid spreading the venom... where's Google when you need it? ) - was that it would have been easier if he was the one stung. But I'm always the lucky one.
Nixed the bike ride.
8/ No matter, still managed to stroll and do a little shopping, before heading back to the hotel. Took a nap(it has been 15 years, people!) .. - while my leg was throbbing, watched a really, really bad Tori Spelling movie. Don't ask why, just a mystery of life. It was so bad we had to watch the entire thing. Sort of like rubbing salt into a wound. But we had to rest up for what we thought would be a magical evening ahead...
9/ An enchanted wine garden dinner at Peller Estates Winery. Heavenly surroundings.
Mind you, we didn't realize we'd signed up for an "intimate" dinner along with 12 others that we'd never met. Strangers. Okay, so we rolled with the punches, but it wasn't what we had expected.
Thank goodness we were pleasantly surprised, and met some very nice couples. When Ian mentioned we were at NOTL for our 15th wedding anniversary, and the nice young recently engaged fellow said "Congrats, did you get married when you were 12?" to us -- well, that alone was well worth the price of admission.
See the happy couple...
Dinner, a five-course affair paired with wines. Absolute decadence.
10/ It was still early when we got back to the hotel, around 10:30. But the bar was closing!! We're not THAT old. So we walked into town to look for another venue for further libations.
And we found it ... or rather heard it, coming from the Angel Inn Pub. A live band was playing rock and blues in an area that could barely house the couple of dozen people in the bar section. People dancing, laughing, drinking... "Mustang Sally" was a highlight for me. No dancing though; I was afraid I was going to be trampled by this one fellow who had a few too many.
My kind of place:
By this time I had totally forgotten about my leg. Having too great a time. Fuzzy, boozy brain may have had something to do with it.
11/ After checking out the next morning, drove back past some wineries and over to the Royal Botanical Gardens and horticultural college. The grounds were immaculately groomed; just beautiful. And we did talk, and not only about the kids. We laughed. A lot. I'm better with my one-liners and he's more receptive to them, when the kids aren't around.
12/ Lunched at Vineland Estates. This was the highlight for us.
We think it was the best lunch we have had...EVER. Remember the blueberry dessert? This was the entree:
13/ Picked up wine, some peaches, and headed home to the best homecoming. Kids had been very good for their aunt and uncle; and my boy, he took very, very good care of his little sister.
And all this after having called us only three times all weekend. The last call was to declare it the worst day of his life - which of course it would be if your shoes and hands were wet and had goose poop all over them. So I'm glad that his smile and hugs when we picked them up signalled that things were all better.
We told my sister and her husband that they could bank this one. After all, to parents of a one year old, that's worth more than gold.
Time away as a couple shouldn't be a "nice to have". No matter how short the time is before the cloud of happiness dissipates and the reality of life hits you , the thing is, at least we had it. And we have the memory of it.
We're going to try to recapture this more than once every 15 years.
After all, my right leg needs a matching patch of stingwelt. Maybe that'll happen next time.
So I present to you my online scrapbook (read: long post with pictures) in lieu of some heartwrenching, thought-provoking introspective blog posting. My blog-brain is on vacay.
We had a couple days at my sister-in-law's family cottage, and then another couple of lovely days at my hubby's boss's cottage (which was uber lovely, because our kids were of similar ages so we - gasp - had some ADULT time!).
And then we embarked on the long awaited early anniversary weekend away. Sans kids.
Without further adieu, the following is the bullety lowdown:
1/ Dropped the kids off at the sister's house downtown. My sister is so energetic, she takes on two kids on top of her one year old, and plans the ENTIRE weekend of activities for the kiddies, including Centre Island, Ward Island and High Park. Excellent plan on our part ... best that the kids be exhausted when we pick them up.
2/ Drove a long 2.5 hours to the lovely Niagara-on-the-Lake ... usually a 1.5 hour drive, but we were in Friday, get-out-of-city traffic. I cannot count the number of times "relax, enjoy the ride" were uttered to me on one hand. Oh to relax to the soothing sounds of Howard Stern interviewing Seth Rogen. Bliss.
(For those of you who don't know, this is a fabulous wine-region in Ontario, known in particular for ice wines. )
3/ Checked in to the lovely Shaw Club Inn with personalized service, a lounge complete with DVD library with some recent selections. And what? What's this? FREE computer and internet access in lounge?!!! Not that I noticed.
Our room was modern, zen with rain shower and a Cold Play CD playing as our background music. Just perfect. How did they know?
4/ Dinner downstairs at Zee's, with the largest patio in town, and a lovely view of main street. The menu? Goat cheese croque-monsieur salad and Morroccan spiced scallops; Pinot Noir and Blueberry Tea to complete the evening. Crab cakes and Lamb shanks for the man. Dee-Lish.
5/ One thing I love about Niagara-on-the-Lake is that I feel like a teenager whenever I'm there. It's got a large retirement community. The after dinner walk down Main Street made me feel almost giddy. Late night Peach Daiquiri made me giddilicious.
6/ Next morning, for some reason we were up at the ungodly hour of 6:30 AM, so watched the rest of "The Savages" which is, despite the brilliant performances and uplifting ending, a deep, and often depressing film. Not the best for an anniversary celebration. Oh well.
We had a nice breakfast, and headed over the the Shaw Club Spa for their decadent Couples package. A close friend of ours had warned us to avoid a "couples massage" at all costs because he found it too weird when he indulged with his wife, and the fact that two other individuals were with them while they were undressed ... well, you get what he meant. So in the spirit of all things weird, of course we just HAD to try it for ourselves.
It was actually quite fun and funny. I asked my therapist whether couples talk or are silent (of course, we being the odd balls, couldn't keep quiet); whether any couple had ever held hands during a side-by-side massage. And she said yes, but only once in her experience- awkward. And we laughed, all four of us.
Facials and pedicures completed the morning. The ladies who did these services were so pleasant and hilarious. We left the spa feeling rejuvenated, refreshed, and with a lovely bouquet of roses to symbolize the memories.
7/ On the agenda for the afternoon: a bike ride to some local wineries. But first a nice lunch at Charles Inn patio.
Lovely lunch - check.
Dessert for me: a bee sting that left a welt on my left thigh, the size of my fist and in the shape of Australia. Yikes! What is it about me and outdoors that does not mix?
The damn thing was resting comfortably in the folds of my napkin and got annoyed when I picked it up to wipe my mouth. Nice. Very romantic. And me, I'm not the greatest patient. Ian's first reaction - after I bit my lips, tears streaming down my face as I cursed in such a lady-like fashion and pulled out the stinger (which, by the way, you're NOT supposed to do. Scraping it out would have been better to avoid spreading the venom... where's Google when you need it? ) - was that it would have been easier if he was the one stung. But I'm always the lucky one.
Nixed the bike ride.
8/ No matter, still managed to stroll and do a little shopping, before heading back to the hotel. Took a nap(it has been 15 years, people!) .. - while my leg was throbbing, watched a really, really bad Tori Spelling movie. Don't ask why, just a mystery of life. It was so bad we had to watch the entire thing. Sort of like rubbing salt into a wound. But we had to rest up for what we thought would be a magical evening ahead...
9/ An enchanted wine garden dinner at Peller Estates Winery. Heavenly surroundings.
Mind you, we didn't realize we'd signed up for an "intimate" dinner along with 12 others that we'd never met. Strangers. Okay, so we rolled with the punches, but it wasn't what we had expected.
Thank goodness we were pleasantly surprised, and met some very nice couples. When Ian mentioned we were at NOTL for our 15th wedding anniversary, and the nice young recently engaged fellow said "Congrats, did you get married when you were 12?" to us -- well, that alone was well worth the price of admission.
See the happy couple...
Dinner, a five-course affair paired with wines. Absolute decadence.
10/ It was still early when we got back to the hotel, around 10:30. But the bar was closing!! We're not THAT old. So we walked into town to look for another venue for further libations.
And we found it ... or rather heard it, coming from the Angel Inn Pub. A live band was playing rock and blues in an area that could barely house the couple of dozen people in the bar section. People dancing, laughing, drinking... "Mustang Sally" was a highlight for me. No dancing though; I was afraid I was going to be trampled by this one fellow who had a few too many.
My kind of place:
By this time I had totally forgotten about my leg. Having too great a time. Fuzzy, boozy brain may have had something to do with it.
11/ After checking out the next morning, drove back past some wineries and over to the Royal Botanical Gardens and horticultural college. The grounds were immaculately groomed; just beautiful. And we did talk, and not only about the kids. We laughed. A lot. I'm better with my one-liners and he's more receptive to them, when the kids aren't around.
12/ Lunched at Vineland Estates. This was the highlight for us.
We think it was the best lunch we have had...EVER. Remember the blueberry dessert? This was the entree:
13/ Picked up wine, some peaches, and headed home to the best homecoming. Kids had been very good for their aunt and uncle; and my boy, he took very, very good care of his little sister.
And all this after having called us only three times all weekend. The last call was to declare it the worst day of his life - which of course it would be if your shoes and hands were wet and had goose poop all over them. So I'm glad that his smile and hugs when we picked them up signalled that things were all better.
We told my sister and her husband that they could bank this one. After all, to parents of a one year old, that's worth more than gold.
Time away as a couple shouldn't be a "nice to have". No matter how short the time is before the cloud of happiness dissipates and the reality of life hits you , the thing is, at least we had it. And we have the memory of it.
We're going to try to recapture this more than once every 15 years.
After all, my right leg needs a matching patch of stingwelt. Maybe that'll happen next time.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
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Friday, August 15, 2008
My Obsession - Body Jam Release 45
Did you think I'd forgotten to keep up the illusion that I'm a mad workout queen? What with summer holidays and the kids keeping me busy (soccer Saturdays have made it difficult to keep up our regular regimen of the gym on the weekend)... how easy would it be to miss the occasional workout?
But with summer vacation comes the lazy days of socializing, and the eating, and the DRINKING (calories, OMG, the calories of those lovely glasses of Chardonnay, Pinot, Pomtinis and Smirnoff Mojito Ready-to-Pour - and me being just soooo ready and rarin-to pour ...). Unfortunately it is also the season of the swimsuit, shorts, and cami's.
Thank goodness the newest Bodyjam release, #45, is the best one. Ever. I don't almost wreck my back over just anything, you know.
I thought I'd share what has made it a little easier for me to get to the gym 2 -3 times a week, even in the summer...
I present BODYJAM 45:
The warm up (it's a long one, but imperative to loose up. Check the last couple of minutes of this video for the gist of it)
Contemporary Rock - Voodoo People - Prodigy. This is my favourite part... it's aggressive and I can pretend I'm ready to rumble...
A little reprieve in the middle - to smooth Dream feat Rihanna "Livin' a Lie"
So here's the whole routine wrapped up in a nice little demo...they're not exactly moshing, but then I don't think they're from Scarborough, Ontario, either... (Bring em out; a little RATM; Prodigy; With Every Heartbeat Robyn S; Delirium feat S. Mclahlan - tiesto remix ...)
This workout makes my brain think I'm 22 years old, when clearly I'm ... well, NOT. Maybe one of these days when I'm half drunk but still able to stand, I'll get my boy to videotape me doing the routine to post, instead of just featuring the more cut and younger instructors pulled from Youtube.
Yah, right.
In any case, if they keep up with these rawkin' workouts, maybe my body might finally feel the need to align with the mind...
But with summer vacation comes the lazy days of socializing, and the eating, and the DRINKING (calories, OMG, the calories of those lovely glasses of Chardonnay, Pinot, Pomtinis and Smirnoff Mojito Ready-to-Pour - and me being just soooo ready and rarin-to pour ...). Unfortunately it is also the season of the swimsuit, shorts, and cami's.
Thank goodness the newest Bodyjam release, #45, is the best one. Ever. I don't almost wreck my back over just anything, you know.
I thought I'd share what has made it a little easier for me to get to the gym 2 -3 times a week, even in the summer...
I present BODYJAM 45:
The warm up (it's a long one, but imperative to loose up. Check the last couple of minutes of this video for the gist of it)
Contemporary Rock - Voodoo People - Prodigy. This is my favourite part... it's aggressive and I can pretend I'm ready to rumble...
A little reprieve in the middle - to smooth Dream feat Rihanna "Livin' a Lie"
So here's the whole routine wrapped up in a nice little demo...they're not exactly moshing, but then I don't think they're from Scarborough, Ontario, either... (Bring em out; a little RATM; Prodigy; With Every Heartbeat Robyn S; Delirium feat S. Mclahlan - tiesto remix ...)
This workout makes my brain think I'm 22 years old, when clearly I'm ... well, NOT. Maybe one of these days when I'm half drunk but still able to stand, I'll get my boy to videotape me doing the routine to post, instead of just featuring the more cut and younger instructors pulled from Youtube.
Yah, right.
In any case, if they keep up with these rawkin' workouts, maybe my body might finally feel the need to align with the mind...
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Thursday Thirteen - Coupledom
"So, let's talk about what we're going to talk about...."
Believe it or not, I used to ask my husband this when we were just DATING. And it used to just bug him to no end.
It's inevitable that couples have the odd "I'm bored" phase when you've been together a while. I used to fret about that. So every so often I would ask him a really stupid question out of left field, like "hey, do you like frozen vegetables?" as if we'd just met. Only this was after we'd been together for 5 years. I'm certifiable, I know.
So in anticipation of the upcoming anniversary "couple time" weekend, I thought I'd stir up the pot a bit.
"What do you mean, what are we going to talk about? You're nuts!" he replied with a smile in his voice.
Why do some couples just work? Couples who on paper or at face-value should just not gel? I'm the quieter, introverted, half-glass empty, anal-retentive geeky ying to his social, optimistic, laissez-faire confident yang.
Here is a list of 13 reasons why I think we work as a couple:
1/ We have similar taste in music.
2/ He buys me Mojito mix and Pomtinis. I buy him beer and Grey Goose. Really, the alcohol doesn't hurt.
3/ We have a similar demented sense of humour. We can make each other laugh until we cry. And often no one else gets it.
4/ He puts up with my OCD tendencies. I let him live even if he puts the butter in the wrong compartment in the fridge.
5/ He's the good cop - I'm the bad cop. The kids still love us.
6/ I'm the firstborn; he's the baby.
7/ I like fair-haired pale-skin guys.
8/ He's got a thing for Asian women (well, since he met me)
9/ We know if we're arguing, we're hungry. We eat to settle disputes.
10/ He loses his keys, sunglasses, cellphone; I find them.
11/ I'm a packrat; he's a purger ... but then I check his purge pile and just re-pack it.
12/ We like each other. A lot.
13/...which is, I think, a separate entity from the love thing. We're lucky, we've got that too. We just have to keep reminding ourselves of that.
Believe it or not, I used to ask my husband this when we were just DATING. And it used to just bug him to no end.
It's inevitable that couples have the odd "I'm bored" phase when you've been together a while. I used to fret about that. So every so often I would ask him a really stupid question out of left field, like "hey, do you like frozen vegetables?" as if we'd just met. Only this was after we'd been together for 5 years. I'm certifiable, I know.
So in anticipation of the upcoming anniversary "couple time" weekend, I thought I'd stir up the pot a bit.
"What do you mean, what are we going to talk about? You're nuts!" he replied with a smile in his voice.
Why do some couples just work? Couples who on paper or at face-value should just not gel? I'm the quieter, introverted, half-glass empty, anal-retentive geeky ying to his social, optimistic, laissez-faire confident yang.
Here is a list of 13 reasons why I think we work as a couple:
1/ We have similar taste in music.
2/ He buys me Mojito mix and Pomtinis. I buy him beer and Grey Goose. Really, the alcohol doesn't hurt.
3/ We have a similar demented sense of humour. We can make each other laugh until we cry. And often no one else gets it.
4/ He puts up with my OCD tendencies. I let him live even if he puts the butter in the wrong compartment in the fridge.
5/ He's the good cop - I'm the bad cop. The kids still love us.
6/ I'm the firstborn; he's the baby.
7/ I like fair-haired pale-skin guys.
8/ He's got a thing for Asian women (well, since he met me)
9/ We know if we're arguing, we're hungry. We eat to settle disputes.
10/ He loses his keys, sunglasses, cellphone; I find them.
11/ I'm a packrat; he's a purger ... but then I check his purge pile and just re-pack it.
12/ We like each other. A lot.
13/...which is, I think, a separate entity from the love thing. We're lucky, we've got that too. We just have to keep reminding ourselves of that.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Family conversations at the home of "Yo Gabba Gabba" *
As the rugrats are served their lunch, consisting of their favourite sandwich and fries …
The girlie: Daddy, how come a boy can eat a Girl’s cheese sandwich?
The boy: It's not a girl's cheese, it's a grilled cheese. And it was my favourite first!
*****
The girlie: Daddy, how come a boy can eat a Girl’s cheese sandwich?
The boy: It's not a girl's cheese, it's a grilled cheese. And it was my favourite first!
*****
Typical weekend morning:
The boy asks his sister: “Do you know where Dad is?”
The girlie makes her way to a closed door. The washroom door.
She yells through the door: “Hey Daddy, are you having a hard time in there?”
Her Dad: “I’m doing OK”.
Girlie heads back into the family room to report to her brother.
“Daddy’s taking a while, but he says he’s not having a hard time in there!”
The boy: “Oh. Thanks.”
******
Talking about snacking…
The boy: "Hey Dad, do you like nuts?"
Dad: "They’re OK. Not the biggest fan, though."
The boy: "Well, I like them, especially the horseshoe nuts."
Dad: "What kind of nuts? I don’t think I’ve ever had them before. "
The boy: "You haven’t? Are you sure? Mom loves them too."
Me: "What was that? I do? What’s a horseshoe nut? I’ve never had them…"
The boy (in frustration): "MOM, you know, horseshoes, they’re amazing. I pick them out and we fight over them… "
Me (thinking ... horseshoes, horseshoes … brain cramp…): "Oh, you mean CASHEWS!! "
(* this is a weird show, even perhaps weirder than Teletubbies and I come pretty close to detesting its weirdness; but for some crazy reason it's on whenever I turn on Treehouse TV for the girlie. And I am forbidden to change the station. Maybe I should check the TV guide...)
Monday, August 11, 2008
Testing, testing
Memories...
It seems each doctor has differing nuances in their fertility protocol. And I suppose they must do their due diligence. That's what makes it rather frustrating to the average patient. You really feel most times as if you have absolutely no control.
I wanted my new ob/gyn to give me a "go straight to fertility clinic" card, given my previous history. But of course she couldn't until she felt she had checked everything out. Again. More delays. Things may have changed a bit since actually having a pregnancy and giving birth. You couldn't fault her for not being thorough.
Blood tests. Man tests. More temperature monitoring and charting. And then the lovely experience called the HSG. Again.
Remember the last time? This occasion I decided to go it alone, and left my boy with my parents. No need for the hubs to come with me, after all, he'd already seen the picture a few years ago and my tubes looked as hot now as they did back then.
It was a different hospital this time, though. With shiny, brand-spanking new equipment. Boy, this was going to be fun.
Except it wasn't. I now know what if must feel like for my car to get an oil change. The platform I was on was raised, the dye injected. It all felt very mechanical. I've never felt the same at a Jiffy Lube since.
*****
Next up: the post-coital test. Fun WOW. Now this one we hadn't had before. And I am very glad of that, because there is no need in this world to have it more than once. Current research even questions the value of this test nowadays. For those of you who haven't experienced this firsthand, it goes something like this:
Doctor: Okay, everything looks pretty normal on the individual front. Let's see if there are issues with you guys as a team.
Me: (in my head: HUH???) Excuse me?
Doctor: On this day of your next cycle, I need you to have intercourse with your husband first thing in the morning and come to the office within a couple of hours. We'll take a swab and test it.
I guess they wanted to make sure that I didn't have a "hostile environment" for the hub's little guys. Which I thought was strange to do, seeing as we did have one child already. Could we all of a sudden have become allergic to one another?
Needless to say, it felt like I was being hauled to the principal's office after doing something terribly naughty. And being given a Pap for punishment. "Naughty" also wasn't the operative word, as said "deed" was not the fireworks-inspiring experience of a lifetime either. Wonder why?
But turns out these results were fine.
So after another several months of this "pre-infertility check to confirm that yes, indeedy, we were still inexplicably infertile" she FINALLY sent us to a fertility clinic. A clinic that was a pain and a half to get to traffic-wise. How in Hades was I going to get there every day? How was the little guy's daycare going to fit into all this? Who would drive when? How was I going to keep it all on the hush hush at work....All the negatives swirled around in my head.
As luck with have it, though, they were overrun with patients at this clinic and asked if we wouldn't mind going to their other location. And lo and behold, something positive. This alternate program was so much easier to access. We were back on track. Well, sort of, anyway.
It was 2002, over a year of TTC #2 and I was thirty-GULP-seven.
Tick tock, tick tock...
It seems each doctor has differing nuances in their fertility protocol. And I suppose they must do their due diligence. That's what makes it rather frustrating to the average patient. You really feel most times as if you have absolutely no control.
I wanted my new ob/gyn to give me a "go straight to fertility clinic" card, given my previous history. But of course she couldn't until she felt she had checked everything out. Again. More delays. Things may have changed a bit since actually having a pregnancy and giving birth. You couldn't fault her for not being thorough.
Blood tests. Man tests. More temperature monitoring and charting. And then the lovely experience called the HSG. Again.
Remember the last time? This occasion I decided to go it alone, and left my boy with my parents. No need for the hubs to come with me, after all, he'd already seen the picture a few years ago and my tubes looked as hot now as they did back then.
It was a different hospital this time, though. With shiny, brand-spanking new equipment. Boy, this was going to be fun.
Except it wasn't. I now know what if must feel like for my car to get an oil change. The platform I was on was raised, the dye injected. It all felt very mechanical. I've never felt the same at a Jiffy Lube since.
The dye didn't permeate on the one side as quickly as it should have, so they gave me another hit... which just proceeded to go nowhere except translate into physical pain. Oy. If they weren't blocked before, they certainly felt it this time.
Turns out one of the tubes was possibly blocked. Or maybe not. There was a little bubble that could have been a fibroid. The good news was that at least one was clear. And one is all you need. Well, we would have to see about that. Sore, but at least that question partially answered, we moved on.
Turns out one of the tubes was possibly blocked. Or maybe not. There was a little bubble that could have been a fibroid. The good news was that at least one was clear. And one is all you need. Well, we would have to see about that. Sore, but at least that question partially answered, we moved on.
*****
Next up: the post-coital test. Fun WOW. Now this one we hadn't had before. And I am very glad of that, because there is no need in this world to have it more than once. Current research even questions the value of this test nowadays. For those of you who haven't experienced this firsthand, it goes something like this:
Doctor: Okay, everything looks pretty normal on the individual front. Let's see if there are issues with you guys as a team.
Me: (in my head: HUH???) Excuse me?
Doctor: On this day of your next cycle, I need you to have intercourse with your husband first thing in the morning and come to the office within a couple of hours. We'll take a swab and test it.
I guess they wanted to make sure that I didn't have a "hostile environment" for the hub's little guys. Which I thought was strange to do, seeing as we did have one child already. Could we all of a sudden have become allergic to one another?
Needless to say, it felt like I was being hauled to the principal's office after doing something terribly naughty. And being given a Pap for punishment. "Naughty" also wasn't the operative word, as said "deed" was not the fireworks-inspiring experience of a lifetime either. Wonder why?
But turns out these results were fine.
So after another several months of this "pre-infertility check to confirm that yes, indeedy, we were still inexplicably infertile" she FINALLY sent us to a fertility clinic. A clinic that was a pain and a half to get to traffic-wise. How in Hades was I going to get there every day? How was the little guy's daycare going to fit into all this? Who would drive when? How was I going to keep it all on the hush hush at work....All the negatives swirled around in my head.
As luck with have it, though, they were overrun with patients at this clinic and asked if we wouldn't mind going to their other location. And lo and behold, something positive. This alternate program was so much easier to access. We were back on track. Well, sort of, anyway.
It was 2002, over a year of TTC #2 and I was thirty-GULP-seven.
Tick tock, tick tock...
Sunday, August 10, 2008
+cottage.jpg)
cottage.jpg)
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Thursday Thirteen: I am so not worthy edition
This is the place the awards come to rest...until I snap out of my tardiness, bring out the shine and get rid of the tarnish to restore the sparkle and pass them along to blogs likely more deserving than little ole me ... /mine?
So that is what today is about. I introduce you to thirteen blogs which you should visit when you get the chance. Some you likely already know about; others perhaps not.
This first award I received more than a little while ago from my pal Kami. And it is such a sweet award, I feel selfish for hanging on to it so long without passing along the love.
I bestow this first baby onto the following blogs:
1) Karen at Rocking Pony: Because she's got a great name. But beyond that, I love reading about her life with her lovely children. She's got it together, this lady.
2) My buddy C at Random Thoughts and Musings from the Island (Manitoulin): This woman is sweet beyond words. And reading her blog, about her life on the farm, her teaching, her cooking and now her little baby on the way (soooo excited)... you just gotta love her. She was one of my first blog friends, and I've actually met her IRL as well.
3) Laskigal at From the Cheap Seats: She's a teacher, a writer, a first time mommy to a beautiful little guy. And she's wicked funny. Finally, she's a fan of SYTYCD and 80's music, in a really bad way... enough said.
4) Siobhan at ABritDifferent: I've been reading her blog, but not nearly enough, since late last year. I'm totally in love with her voice, I will not deny it. Her lovely Scottish lilt, as demonstrated every Wednesday. Her most recent posts, however, have been so brave and honest, I have fallen even more in love...
Next award, the above mentioned C just awarded to me a matter of days ago and yay, I'm posting about it now.
These blogs make me smile...
5/ Kami's Khlopchyk, yes I need to pass something back to Kami because sometimes it seems as if I'm listening to myself speak when I'm reading her posts. Separated at birth by a decade and completely different backgrounds (or perhaps Polish/Ukranians were genetically linked to the Chinese at some point LOL?). She always brings a smile to my face.
6/ Debbie's Etc. Etc. Etc. Okay, this lady, who's been in Japan for 17 years, is hilarious. And she's a teacher, so she's in a position to influence minds. Reading her blog is so refreshing, a glimpse of the fascinating every day life of an American living and raising her family (cute boys too) in Japan. While drinking beer, hula dancing and sharing her love of flamingos and all things Matthew McConaughey... well, you just have to visit.
7/ Maureen at I'd Rather Be Blogging : I love reading Maureen's take on everyday things - she has such a wonderful way of telling a story, always humorous, always witty. She's just terrific.
8/ Heidi at Green Mountain Country Mama : another Alt 80's music lover, she lives in such a beautiful spot with her family, with gorgeous gardens. And I particularly love her posts that include photo-riddles. She's a smartypants too.
9/ Sleepnita at Drowning in Laundry: Sometimes I'm laughing before I even finish the first sentence in a post. She is that engaging. And she works in a sleep lab. Get it? You need to check it out.
And the final award, passed onto me a few days ago by Debbie, yes that hilarious Debbie above, is this brilliant badge:
There are rules for this one, and I'm supposed to pass it along to 7 other bloggers. But I follow the rules IRL, so I'll be a rebel and just finish off my 13 here. Cuz it's my blog and I'll do it if I want to....
10/ Kim at Jogging in Circles. Gorgeous and sweet, I'm hooked on her blog and her hilarious musings, posts about her sweet little boys and wonderful photography. And did I mention that she's gorgeous? But so nice, I won't hold that against her.
11/ Mishelle at Secret Agent Mama. You probably know her blog, or have seen her indescribably beautiful photos. If not, go there, fast. You will not believe it until you see it. How she has time, I do not know. But I'm so glad she does.
12/ Miss at RuraandMiss: Miss and I "met" plurking our sorrows together about our non-attendance at the blogger fest in San Fran. She writes from her soul, very powerful words indeed. She recently started a new Photoblog which features contributions from some awesome bloggers... and me. Just One Look. Go sneak a peek.
13/ April at It's all about Balance. A gutsy lady, a single working mom, an amazing role-model to her little girls. I am in awe.
Now I know I said 13, but I'm adding my final blog of honour to make it 14.
I've been baking banana bread like there's no tomorrow (3 loaves in a week, people. I do NOT bake).
Therefore I feel it's my prerogative to make my Baker's 13 an even 14.
14/ Maria at Immoral Matriarch. I knew she was gonna be big, and she's getting there fast. She so deserves this because (a) she's an incredible writer and social networking fiend/friend (b) a radical blogger who's not afraid to write from the heart ...and she'd have my back in a mommy-fight-club and (c) she's a Blogher celebrity, who took me with her on a stick.
Happy Thirteen!
PS: So you may have noticed that I changed the look and did NOT kill my blog ... major cause for celebration!!! Thanks for the comments! I found this on a great site The Cutest Blog on the Block which the lovely C recommended. Awesome backgrounds and the bonus is that many are free!
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Wordless Wednesday
Everchanging Clouds
(taken by the boy who is all of a sudden obsessed with all things weather...)
For other Wordless check here.
Monday, August 04, 2008
On the road to little G
It was decided.
When the boy was about 14 months old we embarked on the "second baby journey". As you’ve probably guessed, it was not to be an easy one.
After an unsuccessful several months of trying haphazardly on our own (no medical intervention) for baby #2 (haphazardly, because everything is a little less organized when you’ve got a busy toddler), I sat down with my doctor and asked her to provide me a referral to an ob/gyn.
The clock wasn’t turning back and I knew we didn’t have much time to waste. (I didn’t go back to my previous specialist, because he was downtown and we had by this time moved to the burbs). (And yes, I'm the queen of brackets.)
Me: “I was so hoping it would be easier for us this time around.”
Doctor: “Why would you think that?”
Me: “Aren’t your chances of conceiving a little better after you’ve already had a baby?”
Doctor: “Well, no. And given your history, it doesn’t surprise me. Why do you want another anyway? Honestly, it was such a hard road for you for your first baby.”
(sidenote: My doctor, who’s my age and has two boys around 12 and 14, is also my parents’ doctor, attended my wedding, and is somewhat of a friend of the family. So she knows EVERYTHING. And she likes to tell it like it is).
This was a really loaded question. Why does anyone want children; more than one child? How many is enough? How many aren't too many? Why did she want her second? Why did I feel I had to answer it anyway? Why didn't I have a smart comeback?
Me: “Well, Ian would be happy with what we have. And I can’t say that I’m unhappy, as the boy brings so much to our lives. But I think it would be nice for L to have a sibling. Someone for companionship, to share life’s load, you know, especially when we’re old and decrepit and need to be cared for. I don’t want it to be all on his shoulders.”
Doctor: “So essentially, you want another kid to take care of you. That’s nice.”
Me: “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. So give me the referral”. (Sarcasm dripping...)
I like to tell it like it is too. (edited to add; snark... a reason, but certainly NOT the prevailing one!)
And so my obsession began. I thought I was so prepared, almost felt like a pro. But actually was still so naive, and had no idea what was in store for us. Who knew it would be more frustrating and even more heartbreaking at times than our first four years at this game?
******
When the boy was about 14 months old we embarked on the "second baby journey". As you’ve probably guessed, it was not to be an easy one.
After an unsuccessful several months of trying haphazardly on our own (no medical intervention) for baby #2 (haphazardly, because everything is a little less organized when you’ve got a busy toddler), I sat down with my doctor and asked her to provide me a referral to an ob/gyn.
The clock wasn’t turning back and I knew we didn’t have much time to waste. (I didn’t go back to my previous specialist, because he was downtown and we had by this time moved to the burbs). (And yes, I'm the queen of brackets.)
Me: “I was so hoping it would be easier for us this time around.”
Doctor: “Why would you think that?”
Me: “Aren’t your chances of conceiving a little better after you’ve already had a baby?”
Doctor: “Well, no. And given your history, it doesn’t surprise me. Why do you want another anyway? Honestly, it was such a hard road for you for your first baby.”
(sidenote: My doctor, who’s my age and has two boys around 12 and 14, is also my parents’ doctor, attended my wedding, and is somewhat of a friend of the family. So she knows EVERYTHING. And she likes to tell it like it is).
This was a really loaded question. Why does anyone want children; more than one child? How many is enough? How many aren't too many? Why did she want her second? Why did I feel I had to answer it anyway? Why didn't I have a smart comeback?
Me: “Well, Ian would be happy with what we have. And I can’t say that I’m unhappy, as the boy brings so much to our lives. But I think it would be nice for L to have a sibling. Someone for companionship, to share life’s load, you know, especially when we’re old and decrepit and need to be cared for. I don’t want it to be all on his shoulders.”
Doctor: “So essentially, you want another kid to take care of you. That’s nice.”
Me: “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. So give me the referral”. (Sarcasm dripping...)
I like to tell it like it is too. (edited to add; snark... a reason, but certainly NOT the prevailing one!)
And so my obsession began. I thought I was so prepared, almost felt like a pro. But actually was still so naive, and had no idea what was in store for us. Who knew it would be more frustrating and even more heartbreaking at times than our first four years at this game?
******
Let's see, it was 2001 ...
Sunday, August 03, 2008
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Friday, August 01, 2008
Fashion Friday: White
Have you heard? White is the new black.
Apparently the hottest colour for the summer is WHITE. On sunglasses, in the wardrobe, the eyeliner ... and on the nails.
See above? How many shades of white nail polish does a girl need? At last count I have seven. SEVEN. Okay, so they're not all technically "white", there are a couple leaning toward grey. But I've gone a little trend happy with this. Who knew that I was already ahead of the game having unknowingly purchased not just one, but TWO bottles of "Kyoto Pearl"; one a few months ago and then again in sunny Vancouver. (I know, it's not trendy, the term is "early dementia".)
The other morning I was up at 6:38 AM ... when I had no business being up at 6:38 AM. We're supposed to be on vacation. Well since I was up anyway, I had at least another hour to kill before the kids would be awake, so what a perfect opportunity to give my nails a little treat. I hadn't even had the chance yet to try the new colours from Vancouver.
At about 6:50AM the husband walked in the washroom and saw the initial results as I was letting them dry. (You see, he's up early on vacay, because he's got a bit of work he needs to get done and MUST escape to Starcracks, away from the girlie, if he is to get it accomplished. My plan of setting the kids on him is working...)
"You know, Karen, that me of all people, with the little I know about fashion, should not be commenting. But that looks REALLY BAD. Whassup with you anyway? Wanting that trailer-trash look?"
I stared critically at my right hand again; honestly, it was too early in the morning to be insulted. And I came to my own conclusions.
"I guess I went a bit crazy with the White-out, didn't I?"
So to try to make things better, I did the fancy trick that I've seen the girls at the Nail Salon do. I put a different shade over top and made it look ... well, presentable. "Birthday Babe" over "Alpine Snow".
A little less tacky, I thought. Well, at least at 7AM on a weekday vacay morning.
It also makes for an awesome tan on my hands. To give the illusion that I've been outdoors this summer; and not just hiding behind the computer all day.
Blogging addicts, we need every trick we can get.
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