Nursery Rhyme Epiphany

Toby has taken to singing himself to sleep these past few nights. It’s really very sweet to hear his soft voice soothing himself to sleep with his number 1 hit, Twinkle twinkle little star. That is, for about the first 40 times you hear it. Then it gets tiring.

The other morning he woke up at 5:45 am. Thankfully, he recognized that it was still the time that MOST people are asleep so he started in on Twinkle Twinkle Little star in, what I assume was an attempt to put himself back to sleep.

At about the 25^th go round, I realized that not only was Toby NOT going to go back to sleep, but neither was I. Earplugs, extra pillows and even the white noise of our fan couldn’t drone out the monotonous repetition until, all of a sudden I heard something novel. I sat up in bed and pulled out my earplugs to listen closer. THANK GOODNESS he was on to the next song…or so it seemed. He was now singing the Alphabet song but - -it had the SAME TUNE!!

ARGH. What are the CHANCES I thought to myself, throwing my head back on my pillow in frustration? WHY on EARTH would the inventor of children’s songs not RECOGNIZE toddlers' incessant need to REPEAT things and at least switch the TUNE up? I started cursing the Alphabet song/Twinkle twinkle little star song writers and began to wish that Toby had chosen to get fixated on ANOTHER song. Like – Baabaa black sheep?

As that song rolled in my head I made another shocking and equally disappointing discovery.

IT ALSO has the SAME TUNE!!

Frantically I began to sing every nursery rhyme I knew out loud. Did they ALL follow this same tune??!?!? Was I the ONLY PERSON on the PLANET to not KNOW this!?!??! Was I SERIOUSLY lying in my bed, wide awake at 6am singing myself NURSERY rhymes!?!?

I made up my mind then and there to do things differently with the next kid. Forget this boring, redundant tunes the other kids follow. I’m going to teach my next kid a Baa-baa black sheep version that follows the tune of Metallica’s “Enter Sandman”. Try it out yourself. Maybe it was the labiality of my 6am state at the time, but I for one think it sounds much better.

The 20 week Experiment

Today was a beautiful day. It was one of those pristinely calm, warm, not a cloud in the sky days that always entice me into a good run on my favourite route in Collingwood. Being 5 months pregnant I haven’t actually BEEN on a run in a long while as I have a perfectly good excuse NOT to on all those days unlike today when it is either raining, too hot, not hot enough or just not the kind of thing I had the energy to do that day.

Can people actually JOG while this far along in their pregnancy? I wasn’t so sure, but after a long and busy call weekend, I left the hospital and could think of nothing I’d rather do than set out to find out.

About 10 yards into my run, I was so short of breath it looked like I’d been running for hours. It was only a few minutes after this that my notorious bladder started acting up. I had JUST GONE to the bathroom so, determined not to be defeated, slowed my pace a little and did a slight knee inversion to maintain my continence and kept going.

A few paces later the bouncing on my bowels starting calling attention to that region with even more potentially disastrous consequences. I still carried on, squeezing my bum cheeks together.

A few paces later my nose started to bleed.

If I hadn’t turned back for my bladder OR my bowels, I CERATINLY wasn’t going to let my now feeble mucous membranes ruin my experiment so I carried on, gracefully using my forearms as a Kleenex.

That’s about when my butt-clenching-knee-inversion form started called attention to my sciatic nerve, which has a tendency to blast shooting pains down my right side without the least bit of provocation theses days. WHY I hadn’t anticipated THAT I don’t know. But there I was, with blood streaked arms, hobbling down the path trying not to relieve myself of ANY lower bodily functions while dragging my sorry right leg behind me.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse my cell phone went off. It was the hospital. Gasping for air and pinching my nose so I wouldn’t drip blood on my iphone I hobbled over to the side of the trail to speak to the ICU nurse, hoping that she wouldn’t notice the high pitched nasally tone I had from pinching my nose. After explaining what she was calling for she asked,

“Dr Boyd, are you OK?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine” I tried to sound professional, “Please give the patient diazepam 10mg rectally in the event of a seizure and give the calcium carbonate po instead of IV”. I sounded like Daffy duck and looked like an escaped convict. I wish I could have taken a picture of the LOOKS I got from other people on the trail. I suspect they thought I was in some sort of danger and pretending to be a doctor to some poor unsuspecting sucker at the other end of the line.

As I hung up the phone I decided that my experiment was over and WALKING the rest of the way was probably the noblest and least-conspicuous option. I lamely hobbled back the rest of the way to the hospital, still covered in blood and intermittently having to stop as my painful right leg gave way on me.

I may not have put the beautiful running day to good use but I DID manage to answer my own question that I now share with you all as both fact and warning;

No, you cannot go for a run while 5 months pregnant.

The Alien Influx

Over the summer we have had an influx of inhabitants into the Henry household. Most of them appear to have come from outer space as is inferred by their alien names; Gochar, Atar, Heenie and Gomchat. There are lots more, but these are the ones we hear about the most. The one we “encounter” the most is Gochar. I’ve never actually SEEN him, but I know he’s around because he regularly runs races with Toby (and wins), takes up an extra seat (or sometime’s Toby’s seat) at meals, and plays games of volleyball that I am frequently requested to watch (and cheer for).

It’s a good thing I had imaginary friends when I grew up or I would be seriously questioning the sanity of my child. As opposed to Toby, I only ever had ONE imaginary friend. Its name was Dorothy and, as I proudly announced to my grandmother one day, “Dorothy is a man”. Perhaps the androgynously creative alien names are his way of not having to classify gender at this point; he’s obviously very open minded and I’m proud to see him taking a gender-neutral approach to his imaginary friends. At the same time, I’m relieved to know that he’s getting a proper sibling to play with in the near future…

So stay tuned for more exciting tales of Gochar, Atar, Heenie and Gomchat. My child never ceases to astound me…you just never know what’s coming next!

Saying Grace

Despite our vastly varying religious up-bringings, Rob and I have made a point of saying “grace” at dinner each night. We both feel it’s important to show thankfulness and enjoy the opportunity to reflect on our day as a family while highlighting to Toby what is important in life.

Toby loves grace and often reminds us if we’ve forgotten to say it. He also sometimes suggests we say it before breakfast, snack time and lunch and makes a big show of WHO gets to say grace. He USUALLY picks me, but occasionally picks my poor mother who has probably the least amount of religious background of anyone he is related to, but always rallies to the occasion for Toby and does a wonderful job of it. The one person whom he NEVER chooses to say grace is himself.

Tonight we were halfway through our casual mommy-Toby dinner of grilled cheese when his mouth fell open (dropping peas and grilled cheese on the floor) to gasp in horror, “MOMMY! We didn’t say GRACE!!!”

I suggested, since it was just the two of us, that maybe HE could say grace tonight.

Much to my surprise, Toby agreed and promptly bowed his head.

Very slowly, he began as we always do, “Heavenly father, thank you for this food. And thank you…”

I waited with baited breath to see if our 2 years of nightly grace had taught him anything…I was so curious to see what HE was actually thankful for and IF he grasped the concept or not. Would he mention the baby? Would he add anything of his own?

Finally he continued…

“Thank you…for all the kings horses and all the kings men who put humpty dumpty back together again. Tamen!”

How to Torture a Pregnant Lady

There’s an old torture technique that is used on pregnant women these days called the 2nd trimester ultrasound. Today was my lucky day.

Like all of the painful/traumatic experiences our pregnancies bring us, the 2nd trimester ultrasound’s unpleasantness quickly escaped my brain as I was introduced to my first-born, and further receded into the vault of negative pregnancy experiences as I became pregnant with my 2nd. In fact, the memory is so long forgotten that as today approached I allowed myself to grow increasingly excited to meet my new baby for the first time…

And then I drank my first 8-ounce glass of water. (I was instructed to drink FOUR of them within an hour of the test). Within five minutes, it all came flooding back.

Not the water, of course -- I’m referring to that feeling of utter and complete urgency with not hope of relief in sight that a full bladder in my situation brings. It’s akin to loading up all of your grandmother’s very best china onto your grandfather’s head and making him stand there for an hour.

Without his cane.

In a giant windstorm.

For those of you who aren’t shuddering in recollection right now, here’s the deal:

Pregnant women have trouble holding their urine because their uterus crowds out and squishes down their bladder. Add to that an ever-expanding little fetus that bounces on top of it and it’s a wonder there aren’t more pregnant women walking around with catheter bags on their hips.

Pregnant women who have already had a vaginal delivery have even MORE difficulty holding their urine because what is left of their vaginal floor muscles is similar in strength to a piece of salami.

And hence, pregnant women who have trouble holding their urine, have a thin piece of salami for what is left of their pelvic floor muscles and 32 ounces of water sitting in their bladders are not happy campers of the waiting room of the ultrasound department.

And I have one more woe to throw into this: I have allergies. Which means that every now and then when I least expect it…I sneeze.

The only thing that made this situation worse was the ever present threat that one of my patients could have, at any moment, walked into the ultrasound department and required me to engage in semi intelligent conversation while I did my desperate jiggle, AND that the tech was 20 minutes late and that finally - FINALLY - after I was taken in to the room and had my lower abdomen slathered in cold gel (I’m feeling the urge to urinate again just writing this) I was told that my bladder was TOO full. I was then given a cup and told to empty 2 cups worth from my poor shuddering bladder.

That’s like asking grandpa to remove the 4th dish from the bottom.

It is with great pride and humility that I happily announce to you that I (once again) made it through the ordeal without soiling myself, the bathroom floor OR the waiting room of the Collingwood hospital today. And I didn’t strangle the ultrasound tech, either.

And it is with even GREATER contentment that I can now write that I have a beautiful little baby in there that is growing perfectly and is healthy. And at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.

Toby-isms

Toby loves to talk. They say by two they should have 2 word sentences; I think his current average is about 18. People often comment to us about how “advanced” his language is - - my response is always just that “he gets lots of practice”. It’s fantastic to know that he’s meeting his milestones and very convenient to have a constant running commentary on his life, but at times like these, even for those of us who AREN’T pregnant, it can be exhausting.

His most recent saying, asked with a slight tilt of the head and the perfect inquisitive inflection to his voice is, “So…how’s your day, mommy?”

It’s a handy phrase to have; it fills the natural lulls of conversation quite nicely and often gets a response from first time listeners. After a few months of this, the phrase has lost it’s cutesy appeal ESPECIALLY when I am asked first thing in the morning BEFORE my coffee or shower as I drag my pregnancy-drugged-sleepiness out of bed to sit with him while he eats his breakfast.

My response, at that time, is usually a snarl.

His latest interest is being naked which he calls, “Nakey” and then rubs his belly and comments on how he does or doesn’t have a baby inside of it. (The response varies depending on his mood.) Sometimes he goes as far as to wag his finger at me and warn me to “be careful with me mommy, I have a BABY in my belly.”

Yesterday when he took his shoes off he noticed he was in his bare feet and excitedly remarked, “Look, mommy! I’m in my TOES!” .

As advanced as he may seem, we obviously still have some work to do on human anatomy…

Our Family Roadtrip

We’ve just returned home from our very first Henry family road trip.

I’ve been on trips before. I’ve even been on trips with Toby and with Rob before, but never before have all 3 of us set out -- WITHOUT GRANDPARENTS - -on our own.

We headed down to West Virginia, stopping in Niagara Falls, Hershey PA and Washington DC. It was two weeks of 115 degree weather, long car rides, hours and hours in swimming pools, frantic searches for highway parks, apple juice drink boxes and new levels of temper tantrums.

There was a little stress and a little longing for home, but the predominant emotion was that of utter contentment. Spending every day as an inseparable threesome was absolute heaven and fulfilled my daily longings to have more time with my husband and my son that my hectic life brings me. It was a good sign that both Rob and I (and even Toby) were a little sad to say goodbye to our final destination. This was soon quenched by our realization that the car-saviour DVD player had been scorched to death in the Virginia heat and we had 17 hours of kid to entertain in the car. Needless to say, the closer we got, the more excited we got for home.

DVD player be damned, we made it. We were both exhausted but Toby (who had been cooped up in a car all day) was high on life and filled with beans. We both had to quiet that part of our brains that needed to unpack everything and play with Toby until bedtime. Finally - -FINALLY - -bedtime arrived. As we put our exhausted kid to bed I gave him the usual hug, kiss and “I love you”, but this time I added on, “Thank you for a great trip, Toby. I’m a very lucky Mommy.” Toby pulled away from our embrace and with a serious look directly into my eyes replied, “I’m lucky, too, Mommy.”

Like a Simon in the Sky