Baby Ducks and Boo Boos

One could not argue the fact that Kaelen is certainly a little boy. He demonstrates his abilities of continually ensuring that his little knees are tattooed with scrapes or an eye is discolored. His latest escapade left Mom and Dad slightly squeamish for a while after.

I knew that this fateful family trip was doomed from the start when it took some convincing for Daddy to join Mommy and Kaelen for a Trike ride/walk. Just as Kaelen hops on his little tricycle, a large ominous cloud makes it's presence known with a distant clap of thunder. Daddy then appears on the scene and suggests that we walk down the road to see the baby ducks.

The walk was going tickey boo until Kaelen pointed out to us that his tricycle was broken. The pedals could not turn the wheel. This put me into instantaneous pissed off mode as I had waited 1 1/2 months for this bike where I could push Kaelen in it until he learned out to ride it on his own. AND ... It wasn't a pink Barbie design like everything else it these days. Daddy tried to fix it but realized that it was pointless - the bike is broken. Kaelen though, was still a happy little clam and contented with running around as we continue our now arduous journey to the duck pond. A corner away from the pond and Kaelen bends down to pick up something off of the grass and SPLAT! There he goes, face forward into the cement without hands out front to break the fall. His head hitting the cement sounded like a flat basketball making impact onto the ground.

Sick to our stomachs, Daddy runs to Kaelen (who is now trying to cry but can't stop sucking the air into his lungs) and embraces Kaelen into his big comforting arms. Blood is starting to trickle but we are much more concerned with his head - is it broken? Or does he have his Daddy's tough noggin? After a minute or two of crying, Kaelen quickly gets distracted by a bird. We knew instantly that he was feeling okay for the moment but are still a little concerned about this latest knock. Kaelen too, looks like he fought a battle with a beast in the bush as the knuckles on his hands were all scraped up, his nose bleeding due to cuts on and beneath the nose and slight road rash on the forehead accompanied with immediate swelling.

We finally get to the baby ducks and while Paul and I are excitedly trying to point out the cute little fuzzy things, Kaelen could care a less. He was more interested in trying to pick up dirt and throw it into the pond.

Go figure. We should have just saved ourselves from the headache and Kaelen from the scrapes by playing in the back alley.

Rain, rain go away .... ewh ... Worm!

I have a sincere squeamish, get that lump in your throat like you could toss your cookies at any moment when I happen to come upon a worm. The feeling is so filled with dread that I literally start to panic and look for ways that I can make a quick exit. All of a sudden, this tiny 2 inch skinny worm appears to be at least 6 feet in length and just as wide. And ... I could swear upon many an occasion that those damn little buggers start to smile when they see my approach.

In an attempt last weekend to be a big girl and role model for my son, I bravely went where no man has gone before and dug holes in the flower beds specifically to find worms. I figured that boys and worms go hand in hand and that I should let Kaelen have his first experience with these appallingly slimy creatures. Kaelen showed slight interest but to my immense relief, did not attempt to pick one up and eat it.

HOWEVER ... Only yesterday, Cathy, Kaelen's dayhome mommy took the kids outside and taught them the fine art of flinging worms. It all started as a couple of the stupid fat things got stuck on the driveway and some of the kids thought that the worm was dying. So, Cathy picked the senseless creature up and threw him into a pile of dirt. Needless to say, Kaelen thought that this was a great game. Cathy had mentioned it to me when I picked Kaelen up from daycare last night and silently in my head I was making a mental note to make sure that we never come across a worm just in case.

WELL ... In accordance to this monsoon like down pour overnight, these little wormies are getting flooded out of their little homes and are literally floating down the river of water on our walkways, sidewalks and roads. As we are rushing out of the door this morning, Mommy trying to juggle holding an umbrella, bags, purse and lock the door, Kaelen runs into the downpour and starts screaming. Not sure what has gotten him so excited I turn around only to narrowly miss being hit bulls eye in the forehead with my biggest nightmare: a slimy worm!! Mommy screams, gets absurdly mad as I have just seen my death and Kaelen is killing himself laughing because he thinks that it is a game. At this point, I am positive that I am going to start crying because my son is torturing me with worms, I am getting soaked and still have 50 feet to get to the van with worms peppered everywhere. I literally can not take a step without stepping on one. Sucking it up like a big girl, I scoop up Kaelen and run like hellfire to the van, holding my breath the entire way and doing a little running man in spot while opening the van door (this is just to be sure no worms can start crawling up my leg). Kaelen gets tossed into the van, lands on his knees and Mommy dives rolls in behind him and tries to catch her breath.

Thank god at that moment the garbage truck came rolling by to distract my very unhappy son. For a moment I had a pained regret for over reacting the way that I did and felt a little guilty in how I had handled getting Kaelen in the van; after all, it is only just a worm. However as I went to shut the van door, I saw the numerous slimy little buggers starring up at me just waiting for the opportunity to torture me again with relish and I realize that I can still hold my head up high and I had won the battle for the day.

Blood, Sex and Everything In Between

So it is official: I have a form of Thrombophilia, specifically Protein S and Antithrombin deficiencies. One will never know for sure, but it is certainly indicative that this disorder could be the reasoning behind my multiple miscarriages. I have the hereditary form of these disorders so it begs to question: Who decided to share this with me? My mom or my dad? I guess we will know that my Dad had this if my mom tests negative and should he be the one that passed this on to me, it would certainly beg to question as to whether this was the cause of his death twenty years ago. This is also a disorder that I have a 50% chance of passing on to my offspring.

This is a blood disorder puts a person at a higher risk for clots to the legs and/or lungs and in extreme cases, strokes or heart attacks. Women who have this disorder, it is also thought to be the contributing factor for miscarriages and/or still births. The positive in this, is that in most cases, treating this disorder can be a simple as taking a baby aspirin and/or blood thinner for the rest of one's life. There are certainly more extreme and serious cases out there so let's keep our fingers crossed that I will only ever have to deal with the low risk case.

So, how does knowing that I have this disorder help me? It is no secret that I would give my eye teeth to have another baby, so knowing that I have this disorder can possibly help me carry a healthy pregnancy. As with everything there are no guarantees and there is always that chance of miscarriage when trying to have a baby, but in the event I do get pregnant, I will have to start a daily regiment of self administering Low Molecular Weight Heparin. This is a blood thinner that is injected into your fatty tissues so it can enter the blood stream quicker than an orally taken blood thinner. In addition, I will continue to take the baby aspirin on a daily basis. I won't lie that the thought of giving myself a needle makes me a little squeamish (despite me being completely indifferent to needles) and that I have already imagined a hundred gruesome scenarios like sneezing just as I push the needle into my fat rolls and the needle breaks as I have sneezed so hard that it looks like I have had a mini seizure; but I guess I will find out quickly if I was ever cut out to be a registered nurse (that is what I wanted to be growing up).

The next step for me now is to stalk my husband and have him impregnate me. People think that this is the time for fun, the time where you just relax and go with the flow. These people were never obviously challenged with trying to seduce an overworked and exhausted husband who is actually married to his job of late. Believe me the task of seduction, ensuring that he will stay awake long enough to perform and trying to time it right for my body is a daunting task at best. Lets just say that neither my erotic dancing nor seduction attempts cut the mustard of late. Hmm ... Carolyn, if you happen to read this ... When does that Pole Dancing class start? Can I join in with you?

It is hard too, because people tell people like me to relax; that it will just happen. Little do they realize that it is really very hard to accept that when you have experienced miscarriages and the uncertainty if you will ever feel the joy of a newborn in your arms again. You get the advice from countless of women who have conceived successfully; whether it is to "Keep the Deposit In" which has worked in both cases for my friend Debbie, or to "Lie on your back with your feet in the air against a wall" which in Lisa's case worked for her or the hundreds of people that claim that you need to have sex everyday from Day 12 to Day 21. When it comes down to it, no one has control as it is Nature's Will that will dictate whether I get pregnant or not. That is the hardest to accept as I am not the one in control of the situation. It is not something that I can necessarily do right or wrong to ensure success (other than ensuring that I am actually getting sex from my husband). And of course, impatience also plays a HUGE factor into all.

All in all, after meeting with the specialist last week, for the first time in a year, I am infused with hope. Hope that my desire for another child will actually come true sometime in the near future. Hope that Kaelen will be blessed with a sibling to play with. I know that I am blessed to already have one child, but I am selfish too because one child is just not enough for this mommy.

The Legacy of a Woman

Florence McIvor turned 90 years old on May 16, 2006. 90! Can you imagine what my grandma has seen in her lifetime? Probably silent movies, black and white TV's, dramas on the radio. The first time man in space to man walking on the moon. Color TV's or even the first frozen TV dinner. All of the big things and all of the small things. I am pretty sure that Grandma wrote a few things down on her birthday about what she has seen and done in her lifetime to date, so if I ever get my hands on that, I will be sure to share it with you!

Grandman created a legacy when she had 6 children with my grandpa, Elwood McIvor. All of their kids when on to procreate and help populate Western Canada. And ... when you get the McIvor clan together including all of my grandpa's brothers and their families, it is one big shin dig of cousins left, right and center. Kind of like a hill billy reunion - you are related to everyone in some sort of way.

Anyways, if I live to be the ripe ole age of 90, I sure hope that I can leave a legacy like this along the way. This is all of Florence McIvor's grandchildren and all but 9 of her great grandchildren in attendance to celebrate her 90th birthday on May 20, 2006.





Auntie Cookie, Me, Kaelen and Nana (my mom). Our tiny little branch of the family.

Meeoowww ........

"Meeoowwww"

Giggle, giggle; as two sets of little feet scamper down the hallway and into a tiny hiding spot (the top of a bunk bed). The two little mice, try in vain to be quiet as can be; Big Ole Uncle Pussy Cat is lurking somewhere below and just waiting for a tasty morsel of a toe to show itself.

A giggle escapes, a set of Mickey Mouse ears are askew on a full head of curls and then, Pounce! Big Ole Uncle Pussy Cat performs his sneak attack on the two giggling mice and tickles them to death with those big claws and scratchy whiskers.

Now, three decades later, Big Ole Uncle Pussy Cat may seem like the lazy, laidback, content cat but if you ask me, it is his eyes that give him away. Just look at him trying to be so nonchalant sitting there; meanwhile he is secretly eyeing up the next generation of a tasty little mouse.

Now only if I could find Kaelen my Mickey ears. Perhaps Auntie Christie still has hers ......