Saviours

If I can impart any sort of wisdom to my children, the one thing I would like to teach them is the saying, “What better purpose on earth than to make life easier for one another”. I can’t remember who said it or where I heard it, but it’s probably my favourite motto and the one I strive the most in life to live by.

This weekend- - while faced with the reality of the next worse thing to being-on-call-all-weekend-AND-working-the-walk-in-clinic, I encountered many individuals who managed, flawlessly, to live by my motto with lucky me being at the receiving end of it all.

Sunday morning, after only 5 hours of sleep, I dreamt that I had been shot in the neck. As I rolled over to tell Rob about my CRAZY dream, I realized WHY I had dreamt it. I couldn’t move my neck. Well, I COULD move my neck, but the screaming probably would have woken the neighbours up. When Rob asked me what I’d DONE to my poor neck, my answer was only, “What HAVEN”T I done?”
Was it the stress of rounding on 25 patients that I didn’t know yesterday? Was it the 5 hours of operating in the OR until midnight last night? Was it the middle of the night JOLT that occurs when you are woken up by your pager? Or was it the hours I spent bent over paperwork?

Whatever it was….I had to do it all again that day. So I said to my neck, “With or without you, neck, the head and I are going to work today”. It reluctantly agreed to come along with us but not without letting me know how it felt about it.

Saviour number 1 were the ICU nurses. As I hobbled into the ICU they were in the staff room charting. One look at me and I was ordered to drop my bags, peel my clothes off and sit down for a massage. ICU nurses are BUSY. But man, can they give good massages. And the fact that they took the time to loosen me up and listen to my bitching was above and beyond. By the end of my 15 minutes in the ICU I could turn my head about 5 degrees in either direction. I was sent on my way with promises of hourly back rubs and a quiet pager.

Saviour #2 was my colleague, Mark, who rounded in the ICU after me and heard from the concerned nurses about my neck. He didn’t even hesitate before offering me a script for muscle relaxants and a promise to round on my inpatients while I lay drugged up in a flexeril-induced-stupor.

For a colleague to even OFFER to take over your load for the rest of the weekend is truly altruistic.

I didn’t take him up on the offer, but I didn’t need to. What started off looking like a never-ending day of pain and suffering, soon turned into a day of gratitude. If only we could all learn to do the same. What a wonderful world we would live in...

Traitor Food

I guess every parent thinks their kid is special. And talented.  And unique.

Well, Rob and I have come across a NUMBER of unique abilities that Toby has.  But my recent discovery has been abilities in mouth and tongue acrobatics.

Toby loves to eat.  But sitting still for 10 minutes while someone puts mouthful after mouthful of food into your mouth is BORING.  So he likes to play as he eats.  And Rob and I realize that this is a dangerous habit, so we indulge him by handing him bowls, spoons and tupperware (with lids) to keep him occupied while we stuff his mouth with food.

It not only keeps him entertained, but it does expand his palate.  Put a piece of cracker inside a see through container with a lid on it and he’ll work at taking that lid off so he can throw that piece of cracker on the floorfor at least 30 seconds.  Which isn’t much. But you can get a lot of food into his mouth in 30 seconds.  Even the most disgusting taste concoctions- - boiled cabbage, canned turkey and vegetable bright orange stuff….a little tupperware distraction and it all goes in….

But every now and then, when we least expect it….a TRAITOR emerges.

USUSALLY it’s a traitor piece of corn.  But every now and then – like when he’s eating lasagne or chicken and rice a traitor piece of meat emerges.  And Toby will STOP playing  and slowly put down his spoon or fork or piece of Tupperware  and then look up at me and make a face.

And very slowly….he’ll raise his left eyebrow as his silent accusation screams, “YOU put a TRAITOR in my MOUTH and I am now going to EJECT IT.  WATCH”

And very slowly, his mouth will contort into a million and one different angles and before you know it, the “traitor” piece of food is being ejected from his mouth.

 

What is truly remarkable about this is that he somehow manages to SEPARATE this horrific piece of food from the rest of the food. And, being a boy who loves to eat, he wouldn’t want to waste the rest of the mouthful on a lousy traitor piece.  So he somehow manages to eject that ONE piece of corn while salvaging the rest - all with his unique abilities in tongue and mouth acrobatics.

What can I say - -my boy has talent.

Watch out all ye who have baby girls- - my boy is going to be “that kid” who can woo YOUR kid with his ability to knot a cherry stem in his mouth.  Just wait and see....

Rudolph the Red Nosed Rider

Toby had another fall today. He as SO excited to get outside that he ran face first into the driveway.   Ifonly he hadn’t opened his mouth to cry about it halfway down, he could have avoided filling his mouth with dirt, but I guess that’s the thing to do when the world betrays you by placing uneven ground beneath your eager feet. Poor little guy has scrapes on his forehead and a chaffed nose.  He really DOES deserve his new nickname, Rudolph.  But luckily, Dad saved the day by bringing his tricycle around the corner and he soon forgot about he fact that he had a scraped up nose and a mouth full of gravel.  He LOVES his tricycle.

I know – he’s only 12 months old - -but he has this awesome tricycle given to him by his cousin Nicole that comes with a pole sticking straight up the back which allows him to be pushed on it.  Am I worried he’s going to fall off?  HA!!!  No way-   if he approaches anything else in life with the same determination that he uses to hold onto those handle bars this kid is going to go far.

I’ll post a few photos so you can see just how seriously he takes this new sport.  IN fact he’s SO serious about “trike-riding” that we weren’t totally sure he liked it at first.  (See facial expression #1) That is, until we said “All Done”.   He started to cry.  So we walked around the driveway a little bit more and tried to lift him off.  No way.  Full blown hissy fit.  So we decided to walk him down the street.

Keep in mind where we live.  “Walking down the street” is no small feat.  It was a lengthy walk.  And Rob and I were sure tuckered out by the end.  And you would think the kid who has never sat still long enough to enjoy page 2 of any book would have become maybe MILDLY tired of this activity?  No such luck.

We finally resorted to parking the tricycle in the corner of the garage, facing a nice concrete, grey wall.  With Toby still on it.

It took him 5 minutes before he willingly got off.

I hope he doesn’t discover motor cross until he’s at least 2 and a half.

Love hurts

I feel like I’ve been beaten up.  I just left Toby’s room after putting him down for a nap.  We had had a big play outside so I was trying to get him to unwind by having some down time in his room.  OK, so maybe just mommy needed down time.  As I lay on the floor, Toby just ran around me dropping books onto my head, pulling my hair, sticking his fingers up my nose and then biting me.   It felt like some sort of weird torture ritual run by extremely short people with bad balance.  Realizing my "relaxation plan" was not going to work, I got out the sleep sack and put him into bed.  

I've been feeling badly for Toby these past few days, because he's trying desperately to learn the difference between kisses and bites.  We have taught him that kissing is affectionate and reward him endlessly with joyous exclamations and multiple kisses and hugs whenever he opens his big wet slobbery mouth and plants a fat one on our cheeks.  (ESPECIALLY if he does it on command!)  Every morning as I leave to go to work, Rob and Toby stand at the door and wave goodbye and then we all exchange kisses.  I wouldn't trade it for the world - -But over the past few days he has taken it a step further and ended his wonderful slobbery kiss with a CHOMP.  And having 4 teeth, this isn't something that goes without a reaction.   Usually a loud "OUCH" or "NO" but depending on the surprise factor, sometimes he gets pulled off or dropped in the process.  Either way, it scares him a little and I think he is confused as to why he's getting into trouble for showing us that he loves us.  Usually he goes to try again but often with the same result.  Its one of those tough decisions - -do I let him repeatedly bite my face in the hopes that he will learn the difference between bites or kisses or am I just being an idiot and letting my son bite my face?  Its one of MANY times I've wished I could rationally sit him down and EXPLAIN to him the difference and what he's doing wrong.  I guess I just have to keep being persistent and hope he gets it before someone puts an anonymous call into some domestic violence hotline.  IT would be pretty embarassing to have to explain -"Oh no, our home is very safe- - I just keep letting my kid bite me in the face."

Singing lessons from Toby

I learned a few singing tips from my 1 year old son today.

Singing is fun to do whenever the mood inspires you.  Especially if something really exciting happens, like your mom comes home from work early, or like if you’re sititng on the mat in front of the sink and you find a piece of dirt that MAY or may NOT be food and you put it in your mouth without someone taking it from you first.  Those are two special occasion that merit some singing.

And you know, you don’t have to know any particular tunes.  And you don’t have to know any words.  Just sing the words “Nah nah nah” in a soft, melodic tone, hitting random notes as you go.  And make sure to smile and rock your head from side to side and the world will know that you are SINGING and you are HAPPY.

If only life were so simple….

You know you live in the middle of nowhere when....

Toby and I have a new hobby that we do together every day when I get home from work. We look out the window.

Our house has a HUGE bay window in the front. Actually, maybe it’s not a bay window. I don’t really know what a bay window is- - it’s just something I assume a lovely big window that’s next to your couch is called. Ours is probably more like a supporting wall type window. It’s huge. And PERFECT for curious little boys.

Tired of being climbed on incessantly as I sat by our big “bay window”, I suddenly happened upon a miraculous discovery that will change our lives forever : a stool. And not just any stool, but a perfectly sized stool for little boys who want to watch for cars out the window. When Toby stands on the stool he can look out the window AND bang on the ledge AND torture lady bugs while I can just sit quietly in my chair beside him and enjoy the view.

It was a perfect plan, really, until I realized that we live in the middle of nowhere. And nothing drives that fact home more than the act of sitting patiently with a 1 year old, day after day, waiting for a car to go by. Last week, we made the stool discovery on Monday and by Friday night we had yet to see a car go by. That kid has patience. More than I have. After about 15 minutes of hopeless car watching, I usually give up, but my poor little persistent-car-obsessed-son still stood there, eating the odd ladybug and bouncing up and down on the stool DETERMINED to see a car go by.

The sad part is, on Friday afternoon we finally saw something go by. It wasn’t a car, but our 13-year-old neighbor, walking slowly to his friend’s house, past our big “bay window”. After a week of unsuccessful car watching, Toby nearly fell off the stool when I excitedly jumped up and pointed out the ACTION on our STREET.

It was all a little too much for him. He was off the tool in a nanosecond, hiding behind my legs. Maybe it’s a good thing we started small with something harmless like a pedestrian - -he probably would have had a heart attack if a truck had gone by. I’ll keep you posted.

How to Eat Birthday Cake- by Toby Henry

This special Birthday Blog was written by Toby himself.  (He dictated it to me in Baby sign language).  Here it is :

 When its your first birthday and you are presented with your very first piece of birthday cake, chances are, there will be a LOT of relatives standing by with cameras poised just WAITING to capture the expression on your face the INSTANT you make your first aquaintance with SUGAR.   This will probably be, singlehandedly, the MOST attention you will ever get at one sitting until the unlikely event that you become a finalist on American Idol and the TV crews come to your home to film your family’s reaction to your big win.  So soak it up.

Take your time.  Enjoy the sensation of the cake in your fingers.  Trust me - -they won’t let you feel mud the same way they will let you feel the icing on your very first birthday cake.  When you’ve had enough of the touch sensation, take as BIG of a pieces as you can into your hands and SLOWLY raise it to your mouth.  Do it slowly so that EVERYONE is watching.  And just BEFORE you hit your wide open mouth - -pause.  And smile.  It’s a perfect photo op.  Repeat the above process about 4 times and just when your family are at the peak of laughter, put it in your mouth.  And enjoy.

And don’t forget to wipe your hands in your hair when you’re done.

For more photos of my first birthday antics please visit my online photos at : www.picasaweb.google.com/lyssandrob

Toby's New Shoes

Toby's got a few new tricks under his belt.  The first is the snarl.  I think its a way to show off his teeth but it could be his way of doing upper lip yoga.  Basically he curls his upper lip upwards while protruding his upper jaw and smiling at the same time.  Its usually accompanied by a bout of heavy nasal breathing and eye squinting.  If it were October right now I'd start making the pirate costume (oh, who am I kidding...I'd put it on my list of things to buy next time I'm at Walmart...)  IT may seem slightly grotesque but its the face he does to show us that he's AMUSED or HAPPY.

TOnight it was extra funny, though because his SECOND new trick is wearing shoes.  Sandals, in particular.  Rob and I realized that Toby has never WALKED in shoes before (he has worn them to be cute - -but not to be practical) and the last time we put on his boots he sat in a giant heap of self defeat and cried when he realized that his newly found limber feet were gone.  So today we put him in sandals.

For some reason he was naked at the time - -a combination of end of the day unwillingness to fight the "life isn't that bad I"m just trying to put your diaper back on" fight and the fact that he had tomatoes for lunch which gives him an angry looking bum.  Which merely justified the former.  But nonetheless my naked little boy was walking around naked when he noticed me clipping the tags off of his new birthday sandals.  And of COURSE, he wanted to know exactly WHAT they were and HOW they worked.

SO I put them on his feet.  And he LOVED them.

DESPITE the fact that they slipped a little on the hardwood floors-  that was OK with him -- he just walked faster.

And DESPITE the fact that they were too big for him and made a clunking sound -- that was just NEAT. So he walked HARDER to make even LOUDER clunks.

And of course, to prove it to us just how GREAT these new things were, he decided to move around the house at lightening pace, slipping and sliding and banging his feet LOUDLY on the ground while making his new pirate snarl face at us.

Thanks, Aunt Kryssie- - we like the sandals.

To sharpen or not to sharpen...

So I went to play hockey tonight and decided to get my skates sharpened.

 

This may not SOUND like blog-worthy news, but I haven’t sharpened my skates since we lived in Thunder Bay.  Which equals about 4 years.  I had myself fully convinced that not sharpening your skates was totally acceptable.  I think I heard someone once say that this one NHL player only sharpens his skates once a year.  Which, in my mind, gave me permission to only sharpen my skates every 4 years.

 

Basically,  I’m just lazy.   Not lazy enough to quit the best sport in the world, but lazy enough to do  it with old equipment and unsharpened skates and hope for the best.

 

But tonight sharpening my skates was the thing to do. Everyone was doing it.  And it was only $3 and the guy said he’d do them while I got changed- - efficient AND cheap.  SO I gave it a go.

 

Wow.

 

IT was like night and day - -as I whisked around the ice on my newly sharpened skates I felt like I’d traded in dull soup cans for Henkel knives.  It was incredible.  I realized that my pregnancy hiatus hadn’t left me COMPLETELY void of all hockey talent- - I could skate!  I could get the puck EVEN if the pass didn’t come directly to my stick!  I could stop at the blue line!  I even made a cool SHOOSH-ing noise when I stopped! 

 

It was like the day I got glasses and realized that trees weren’t just giant green blobs but actually consisted of discrete leaves that had edges and other cool things like that.

 

According to Rob, my I-don’t-play-hockey-so-I-shouldn’t-have-an-opinion-but-I’ll-put-my-two-cents-in-anyways husband, he has spent the past 4 years NAGGING me to get my skates sharpened.  To quote him directly, “I did TOO tell you to get them sharpened.  Everytime we drove past the Canadian Tire in Orangeville I’ve suggested it to you.”

 

(As an FYI - -we don’t live in Orangeville and when I’m driving THROUGH Orangeville I usually close my eyes and hope it ends soon.)

 

I think the theme of this week in my life is that sporting equipment caliber really DOES make a difference.  Maybe I haven’t been an unathletic clutz all this time- -maybe all I needed  were new skis and sharp skates!  I'll keep you posted...

Meet my nemesis : Powder

We just got back from an incredible vacation in Whistler, BC while Toby enjoyed some quality time with my parents.  I think it was  a success all round - -I’m not sure how my mom is going to cope without Toby, though, after getting used to having him around all of the time.  My dad even started getting  up early just because there was it was so exciting to be awake with Toby around.

 

Rob and I had a great time seeing friends from out West (and some from home as well) and enjoying our new skis.

 

I have to say – there aren’t many sports where a change in equipment can suddenly make you THAT much better.  But changing in my 10 feet long, neon gree, pointy tipped skis that I bought used when I was in grade 9 for a trendy new pair of rounded, short skis made me SO much better!  The first two days I gained more  and more confidence as I realized I could TURN without losing balance and not make a fool of myself.  By the end of the first few runs I was  happy to venture of the groomed runs and even enjoyed some tree runs and moguls. 

 

Saturday night it started to snow and, being with a group of skiing enthusiasts, we had a contingency plan for he morning if there was any fresh snow the next morning.

 

I don’t pretend to be well versed in ski lingo but I would have been an idiot not to have known that fresh powder in Whistler is a good thing.  SO for some reason it was me who phoned the Snow-phone at 7am and started rejoicing in the fact that there were 17 cm of fresh powder awaiting us.  I raced around our condo leaping for joy in my long johns and then making the joyous wake up call to all of our friends that about the MASSIVE amount of fun that was awaiting us on the hill.

 

Riding up on the chairlift we were definitely the first few on the hills and the fluffy cloudlike descents that beckoned us looked heavenly.

 

That is, until I tried to ski it.

 

I think it was my second turn of the morning where I lost my balance.  And the third turn that sent me tumbling into a cloud of white smoke.  And by the 5^th turn my legs were burning so much that I began to wonder what the appeal was.  But being with powder enthusiasts I didn’t have much time to vent at the bottom - -I’d made everyone wait long enough.  As someone pointed out to me that morning, “There are no friends on powder days”

 

SO I kept my mouth shut and carried on.

 

But by the time I found myself hiking UP a hill just so we could get to more of this torturously difficult powder stuff I couldn’t contain myself anymore. 

 

“THIS SUCKS”

I announced as I barreled down the hill.  I think I just wanted to get the run over with.

 

I’m pretty sure people thought I said, “This Rocks!” as I heard some cheering behind me, just before I tumbled down into another ball of powdered whiteness.  This time I lost my ski.  And my new skis are white.  And the powder was deep.  17 cm deep as I remembered from my earlier excitement.

 

It took 6 people about 20 minutes to FIND my ski and then another 10 to get it on my foot while balancing precariously on 17 cm of pure hell on an incline I’d vowed never to ski on.

 

That was the last run of the day for me.  Even though I never mastered the art of powder, I did manage to learn two things in that morning : a) Powder is overrated and b)  There ARE such things as friends on powder days.  And thank goodness for that.