Friday, January 21, 2011

Better Late Than Never

Eli's First Year from Lesley on Vimeo.

Oh, Brother

So about a bajillion years ago, I made a reference to a hysterical pregnancy I was having and then never came back to talk about it.  I meant to, I swear that I did, but getting into all that detail started feeling overwhelming and then time passed and I had more current things to mention plus still didn't really want to Get Into All That Crap so I just... avoided it. 

Except that... well, it's really becoming a huge part of my life, so now NOT talking about it here is just distracting me from posting at all and thus completely undermining the point of even having a blog.

So...  for starters, let's just be one hundred percent clear here and make it known that this is NOT one of those posts where I reveal that, Suprise!!! I'm pregnant!!! and it was easy and perfectly timed and oh so speshul.  Because I'm not, and it isn't and dammit, I'm getting pissed off.

I desperately want another baby.  I want Eli to be a big brother.  I would love for him to have a little brother.  I would love for him to have a little sister.  I want him to have a sibling and I want to have children, not child.  We've always wanted more than one, talked about it from day one, wondered what kind of a brother Eli would be... We thought we had it all planned out.

Back in June we attended a family wedding, at which we were told (rather covertly so as not to spoil anyone's big day) that one of my cousins was expecting her first baby.  And I ooohed and awwwed and felt simultaneously excited for the new addition and jealous that I wasn't the one having a baby, even though my own baby was not quite six months old.  As in, still very much a tiny, helpless baby in need of round the clock care. 

The idea of adding another one already appealed to me but I kept my mouth closed because Pete and I had talked prior to Eli's birth and decided that we'd revisit the second kid idea when the baby turned one.  But on the way home from the wedding, I was lost in my own thoughts of baby names and breastfeeding and clumsy toddler kisses on newborn faces.

As it turns out, I wasn't the only one, because half-way home, Pete spoke up and said he wanted another baby too.  Hooray!  And various other joyful exclamations!  Eli was actually conceived on my first cycle after many years of birth control, so this was practically a done deal, right?

Wrong.  We started officially "trying" in August and it soon became apparent that whatever sort of magic was happening when we got lucky the first time had up and left the building.  A few weeks of late periods and negative tests started making me think I was either a) The Crazy Lady with the Hysterical Pregnancy or b) The Oblivious Lady on TLC Who Needs To Be Schooled On Proper Use of A Pee-Stick. 

Careful consideration, along with some unearthing of half-forgotten biology made me realize that my cycles weren't just "long" or "kind of weird" or "messing with my head".  They were actually, in all likelyhood, completely anovulatory.   As in, not ovulating. (and therefore no baby).  As in, try all you want but ain't no chance you'll score a goal without a puck.  As in, SNOWBALLS CHANCE IN HELL.  I took up charting my basal body temperature, which has confirmed that no ovulation is taking place and also uncovered some evidence that there might be a thyroid issue.  We continue to try but with no real hope that things will jump start themselves.

And it's been that way since.  I've seen my doctor, who hmm'd and haw'd thoughtfully before ordering some blood tests that didn't really go anywhere.  I was on a waiting list to see and OB/Gyn but the guy ended up being way too far away, so I got a new referral faxed to a reproductive endocrinologist (baby makin' doctor) nearby and have an appointment next week. 

I know that really, six months is not very long.  And if I was ovulating and having regular cycles, I wouldn't be feeling like I do know or consulting a doctor.  But there is a difference between having everything in working order and it just not being our month, and blindly trying for another six months when half the team is on the bench.

So, that's where we are now.  We'll hopefully be getting to the bottom of the issue in the next few months.  And in the end, there will most likely be a baby, which is the most important thing.

Friday, January 7, 2011

I had this brilliant plan to put together a video of Eli's first year and post it on his birthday.  I actually got a good start at it, too.   But then I got derailed because instead of getting my one year old a reasonable present like some sort of Little People's playset, I went ahead and LOST MY FOOL MIND and got him this:






Yes, it's a puppy.  A puppy who is half mastiff and will probably grow to be anywhere from 70 to 150lbs.  There's really no way of knowing.  Except that he weighed in at 17lbs at his 8 week check up, so we're probably looking at the higher end of the scale. 

In summation, they are ADORABLE...



... and I AM INSANE.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Reality Bites


So Eli has been kind of a jackass lately, what with the moaning and wailing and general refusal to sleep.  We thought it was just him being a toddler and feeling the stress of three straight days of heavy snowfall.  And then he was sitting on my lap, being tickled, and he hung back just so, allowing me a long, well-lit look of his upper gums and... yeah.  

Huh.  What do you know, he's NOT just being an asshole for the hell of it.  It seems that he has good reason for his general crustiness.  Or, as further examination revealed, several reasons.

I've made a helpful little diagram to illustrate:



 A. Two bottom front teeth, aka the current tenants.  These bad boys erupted several months ago and have ruled the roost ever since.

B. Right lower lateral incisor.  Slower to appear than the other newbies but quickly gaining ground.  There's no sign of the left lower l.i., so he's already looking crooked even before you take into account...

C. Okay, it's hard to tell from my less than impressive Paint skillz, but this is actually the LEFT upper central incisor or left upper front tooth, which is just barely poking through.  The other upper c.i.?  A complete no-show.  So this bad boy is looking to dominate the upper front area and give Eli the illusion of having one upper front tooth in the center of his mouth.  We call the tooth Tom, as in Cruise.

D. Left upper lateral incisor.  So not only does this child have only one upper front tooth coming in, the tooth NEXT to it is coming in as well, bring even more attention to the lopsidedness.  I like to call this tooth Katie Holmes.

E.  Big ol' gaps where teeth should be.  And may be soon.  But right now, these spots are making Eli's mouth look a bit like a mis-aligned slot-machine.

So yeah... right now he's pretty much a big bag of cranky but I guess it's better to get it over with all at once.

And if all else fails, we have plenty of whiskey.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

MIA

Right, so... it's been, what? A month since I last posted?  And I know, I KNOW, November was some sort of blog every day month or something and still.  Still, I wrote nothing.  The irony, it kills me dead.

What's actually happened is that Eli has taken notice of all things computer and declared the laptop to be super cool and irresistible and just plain face-melting-ly awesome.  At least that's what I assume he's trying to convey as he gleefully Vulcan death grips random keys and initiates a symphony of beeps and blurts that can only be translated as DANGER DANGER SYSTEM OVERLOAD COMPUTERS ARE NOT TOYS ACTION STATIONS ACTION STATIONS etc.

So I can't exactly bring the thing out during the day without taking some serious evasive maneuvers and tuning out the incessant bleating of a spurned toddler.  I guess I could theoretically try to do it when he's napping.  Oh, but napping (and sleeping independently at any time of day, really) continues to be an issue and so I'm usually either stuck on a couch or bed with him, laptop out of reach, or ever so caaaarefulllly prying myself away for ten minutes to do self-indulgent things like shower or watch True Blood.

(I also unload the dishwasher which is a current close second on the list of household appliances and/or electronics that have stolen my son's heart.  The vacuum was sadly and rather suddenly dethroned about a month back when Eli suddenly decided that while it's still fun to play with when it's off, the thing is altogether too noisy and upsetting when it's on.)

That leaves me with blogging after he's gone to sleep at night but I find that by the end of the day I'm just so freaking tired and instead of writing an entry, I watch TV or surf around on my iPhone because I'm too lazy to bring out the laptop.

All of this is by way of saying that I'll try to do better.  I promise.  Even if I sometime just plaster a bunch of baby pictures up and call it good enough.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

His First Halloween: A Night In Pictures








We didn't take him trick-or-treating because he's too young for the candy and while I'd happily eat his share, it wasn't exactly the first impression I wanted to make on most of our neighbours.  Instead, I took him outside and let him walk up and down the street (holding my hands - he's not stable in shoes yet) to his heart's content.  It was only a few degrees above freezing (in fact, it snowed off and on all day... I don't want to talk about it) so I figured he'd only last a few minutes but surprisingly, he LOVED it.  Maybe it was all the bigger kids passing by or the novelty of being outside after dark, who knows.  Whatever the draw, he traipsed back and forth happily, making excited noises (I chose to interpret them as roars) and he never once complained or headed for our door.  He definitely, absolutely didn't want to be carried.  Eventually, though, we figured his hands were getting too cold despite my holding them and we headed in after about half an hour.  All in all, it was a complete success.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

You Say It's Your Birthday?

Last week, I turned 28.  I made out pretty well, too - an eReader, some cash (specifically earmarked for something for me or I'll have to answer to the lovely women in my family), a bunch of TV on DVD and possibly a hysterical pregnancy.  Oh, what was that?  You want to know more about that last one?  Well, too bad - this is the birthday recap post.  I'll talk about the other thing tomorrow.

So, my birthday... It rained.  A lot.  My mom took Eli overnight which was lovely of her.  He still doesn't sleep through the night - or even close - so the idea of so much uninterrupted sleep was a present in and of itself.

Early on, Pete and I had grand delusions of driving into the city and going to a fancy steakhouse but by the time I had driven the baby to my parents' place, driven back to our place, I barely had the energy to shower.  By the time Pete got home from work, showered and dressed, it was nearly eight and we just couldn't be bothered.  So we went to The Keg instead.

At one point, the waitress checked our bread status (still a bunch there), then took my bread plate and left Pete's.  I joked that The Keg was officially deeming me Too Fat For More Bread but since the piece I'd had was enough to satisfy me, I didn't actually care. We never did get our appetizer, which was the first thing to go wrong but really, not a big deal.  They offered to bring it out after our entrees had arrived but we passed since we already had steaks in front of us.  Of course, it wasn't until after we were alone again that I noticed I'd been given the wrong side dish... but again, not worth quibbling over.  Then I took a bite of my steak.  Wow.  I'll admit that I'm a bit picky with seasoning because I rarely use much salt but this was way, way salty.  Inedible, actually.  Pete was upset on my behalf because, in his mind, My Birthday Was Ruined, but I assured him that I was still having a good time.  I ate my baked potato and a bit of the less seasoned part of the steak, and we ended up having it taken off our bill. 

On the way back home, we stopped to get coffees.  I'm a sucker for a good latte but don't often indulge because of the price tag.  On my birthday, though, I willing to spend the five bucks.  Of course, they aren't making gingerbread lattes until next month, so I had to go with a back up choice.  Then, their debit machine wouldn't recognize Pete's card.  At this point, I was finding it all pretty hilarious while Pete was looking more and more frustrated.  Visa came to the rescue, though, and we were off, lattes in hand.

"As long as you don't crash the car on the way home," I joked, "it'll still be a good birthday."  Pete said that was coming perilously close to jinxing him but I had confidence in his abilities and we did make it home unscathed, regardless of the rain.  Pete kept apologizing about the things that had gone wrong but I told him it was fine, better than fine, funny even.  He said he felt bad but eventually I was able to talk him down.  We agreed to put it all behind us and enjoy a slice of my specially requested ice cream cake.  I ran out to the freezer to bring in the box, opened it up and dissolved into laughter.

It was supposed to look sort of like this...


... but it actually looked like this:


It must have melted when we brought it home the day before and then refrozen because it was still ice cream, just not really cake, at least not in the structural sense.  It was kind of a perfect summary of the day, actually - a little crooked, not quite what we'd anticipated and yet still delicious.

And yes, my cake says Bazinga.  I got two seasons of The Big Bang Theory, so it was appropriate.