no more school, no more books...

... no more getting up at 5:45am to get the boys up and ready for school!

Wednesday, June 22nd, was the boys' "graduation" ceremonies for school. Each year group (grade) had their own awards ceremony, speeches, etc. It was a bit tedious, but also fun to see the boys with all their friends.

Eloise was only a week old, so was quite the attraction.* Simon couldn't even manage to stay in his seat. He kept coming over to my mom and I, and asking when he could show Eloise to Miss Denise or telling me in a not-so-quiet whisper that so-and-so wanted to see the baby. It was sweet, but also a bit nerve wracking since I knew he was supposed to be getting an award... but didn't know which one.

Turns out he got the Music Award. He adores singing. He has an amazing memory and does a surprising job carrying a tune, whether the song is in English or Spanish. I did get a kick out of his music teacher's notes on his report card though... something about having a "strong voice" but needing to "learn to control it". 

That's teacher-speak for "your son is LOUD".

Anyone surprised? 

Liam's time slot was after lunch, so we spent some time at the school letting Andrew run around and showing Eloise to some of the staff and students. 

For Liam's year group, there was only one award in each category per year. So only about 7-8 awards for about 40 kids. Liam was a bit disappointed to have not been chosen, but we talked about how it really wouldn't have been fair for him to be given one when he was there for less than half the year while all the other kids had been there working hard for the whole year.

Besides, we made it clear how proud WE were of him. 

Friday, June 26th, was the boys' last day of school. Official. 

Woohoo! 

And huge sigh of relief! I can't tell you how much Peter and I were looking forward to this day. 

My mom, Andrew, Eloise and I arrived at the school laden with snacks (strawberry lemonade bars) and gifts (pounded flower bookmarks) for the boys' teachers. We found Liam finishing up break time and lined up to head back to his class. What I didn't get a picture of was Andrew running up to throw his arms around his big brother. Andrew's displays of affection always draw huge reactions from the other kids. 

And the girls dig it.

At Simon's class party, they had a special time for the kids who are moving and won't be at the school next year. His teacher, Miss Denise, gave each of the four kids a special book with pictures of them throughout the year, and little messages and drawings from their classmates.

Simon was so thrilled with his book. He had both his teacher and the class assistant, Miss Natalia, read it to him in succession. That night he insisted on having it read to him a half dozen times by Peter AND me AND my mom. It's now been put someplace up high to keep it away from little fingers who started to pick at the decorations, but I can see how much Simon would love a special photo book (or ten) for his birthday or other special occasions. 

Simon with Miss Natalia

Simon and Andrew with Miss Denise

After Simon's party, we headed up to Liam's classroom. We were there about an hour early, which allowed time for an impromptu health and science lesson about reproduction, gestation, birth, babies, etc. Liam's teacher did an incredible job covering an amazing array of topics in a short time. The kids asked questions and had the chance to hold Eloise.

Then the party started.

Liam dancing with Andrew and John

playing a who-can-stay-still-and-quiet-the-longest game.
genius.

School was a bigger adjustment for Liam than for Simon. There were a few bumps -socially more than academically- but he really did a great job. He ended the year strong... and with some really great friends. I'm not going to fool myself into thinking that these elementary school friends -of only five months, really- will be life long friends. But you never know. With the nature of the foreign service and embassy life... you just never know where we'll all end up.

* * * * * * * * * * * 

After school, Liam headed to the house of a friend for one last playdate.

My mom and I came home with Eloise and the younger two boys... who got into the markers.

Simon emerged from the bathroom looking like this...

he declared he was a ninja

this is his "ninja face"

clearly being a ninja is serious business

mostly

We followed this up with a flying-jump-kicks-off-the-couch photo session, but I'll save you seeing those hundred pictures.

Until later.

*In Colombia, women don't leave the house with their babies until after the 40 day mark, so seeing a teeny, tiny newborn out and about drew quite the crowd! I don't know what all those ladies do for forty days (leave their baby with the nanny, perhaps?), but the reaction to Eloise has been a tone of fun to witness. Walking through the crowded Sunday market draws audible gasps from all sides... everyone from the lady selling high end leather goods to the scruffy youth selling gum and cigarettes on the corner. So funny.

double digits! double digits!

A few people have asked recently about whether or not we'll be having the baby here in Colombia or returning home to Canada for the birth. Currently our plan is to not only stay in Bogota... but we're planning a homebirth.

This surprises a lot of people -especially the Colombians!- but there are many reasons behind our choice.

With Liam, labour started spontaneously with contractions every 3 minutes right from the get go. Being my first time, we went to the hospital where it was confirmed that it was, indeed, real labour and left with instructions to return when it got "real bad". We returned to the hospital around 2 or 3am, but being only 3-4 centimetres dilated, were given the choice to stay at the hospital (where the only accommodations they could offer us were in the waiting room) or to return home. 

We went back home of course. Back home again. 

I was so defeated by the thought of being sent home A THIRD TIME that I determined to labour at home as long as possible and arrived at the hospital already at 9 cms. I begged and pleaded for an epidural -while crying on hands and knees in the triage area!- and when they checked me after the epidural was in place I was at 10ccms. 

The epidural completely stalled my labour. Contractions slowed to 8 mins apart (which was actually a blessed relief since it gave Peter and I both the chance to sleep for a few hours) and pitocin was required to get things going again. Once I started to push though, it only took 15-20 minutes for Liam to be born. 19 hours from beginning to birth.

Liam at 10 days old

Nathaniel's birth was vastly different... 

Because of his Trisomy 18 diagnosis, we chose to induce at 37 weeks. This meant that our families could make arrangements to travel to be with us and it was also deemed the best chance for us to be able to spend time with him alive. So I was induced with the use of cervidel (sp?) and pitocin. Once again labour started right off with contractions every three minutes and continued that way for (another) NINETEEN MORE HOURS. I finally did choose to get an epidural, but more for the sake of having it in place should a c-section be necessary.

Turned out that it was.

Even though we had to fight for the section to be performed (as they only considered ME as a patient and not Nathaniel since his diagnosis was "fatal anyways"), in the end we got our wish and were able to spend a short time with Nathaniel. 

While I don't regret that decision AT ALL, the operation itself was pretty awful. I'd spent absolutely no time reading up on cesareans and had no idea what to expect, how it might feel, WHAT I might feel, how long it would take, etc, etc, etc. And the whole time I didn't know if Nathaniel was still with us or how long he would survive. It was just awful. Scary, uncomfortable, full of unknowns, super-charged with emotion... and I felt totally NOT in control.

But it was worth it.

 

When we got pregnant with Simon so soon afterwards, our doctor was concerned about the short amount of time between the cesarean and the next birth. It was agreed that we would be able to attempt a "trial" labour, but would need to be in hospital to be monitored the entire time.

When Simon was 5 days overdue, they did an ultrasound that showed he had dangerously low levels of fluid left. Even though we'd been constantly told that an induction was not an option with a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean), went went in the next day and I was started on a minuscule amount of pitocin. When my doctor tried to break my water, she tried and tried and kept saying that it must be a really thick membrane. Turns out she was actually scraping against his little head... there was just no fluid left to come out.

Because of the low levels of fluid and the intensity of a pitocin induction -oh and him being posterior or "sunny side up"- his heart rate was dropping with each contractions, I was given an epidural and the OR was prepped. This was the last thing I'd wanted. However once the epidural was in place and I could relax a bit, I went from 5cm to 10cm in less than 15 minutes. No one believed me when I said I had to push, but they checked and found me fully dilated.

The obstetrician who was now in the room made it very clear that things were very close to an emergency situation and we had to get him out NOW. After three pushes, Simon was born with the help of a vacuum (and the OB reaching in and manually turning him to help him through the pelvis... thank goodness for female OBs with small hands!). He had meconium staining, scratches on his head, and was pretty blue from the cord being wrapped two or three times around his neck.

It was intense and a bit scary and panicked at the end, but again totally worth it... and I avoided the operating room.

because of the low fluid, him rubbing his face in utero and the birth process itself, his face was SO RED

We moved to Gatineau in 2008 when I was three months pregnant and we were unsure what our birthing options would be. After doing some reading, talking to other moms and making some calls, we settled on the Maison de Naissance, a midwives practice in the city. We'd been told that you pretty much had to call the moment of conception to get in with them... unfortunate since we'd waited until around 20 weeks to call. After an initial meeting, however, they agreed to accept us seeing as this was not my first birth and that -other than Nathaniel's T18 diagnosis- we'd had not other complications.

The labour and birth were fast and intense and I honestly thought I would die before Andrew was born, but the whole midwife/birth centre experience was WONDERFUL. The prenatal care we received was amazing and I loved being able to pack up and leave the birth centre when I felt ready... in this case only about four hours after Andrew's birth.

Andrew at 5 days old

If you bothered to read the link above (I did... not really sure I should have!), you'll know that the natural, drug-free birth at the birth centre was not exactly all roses. It was HARD. After having epidurals with the first three boys, I was seriously questioning my sanity for attempting a birth without one... I was also questioning the likelihood of survival! So why would we choose to have another unmedicated birth, and a home birth at that?

Well the options in Bogota are few. While I'm sure many women have wonderful experiences at hospitals, the hospitals here are not like those in Canada and the US. Don't get me wrong, the medical facilities here are excellent, but there aren't really Labour and Delivery or birthing rooms. From what I've heard, there's ONE -only one!- at the nearest hospital. Most babies are born in operating rooms... completely sterile, bright lights, lots of staff in masks and gowns... and all of the traumatic memories and fears that, for me, go along. So when a friend down here gave us the name of the doctor she's used for her last two births here in Bogota, and he determined we are great candidates for a home birth, it seemed an easy choice to make. 

Not only is he an actual obstetrician with twenty years experience (and the only doctor currently doing home births in Bogota), should something go wrong the hospital is about five minutes away. We can see it from our livingroom window!

I also love the idea of being able to have this baby girl and then crawl right into MY OWN BED. No stay in hospital, no hospital food (although maybe it's better here??), no strange environment and people (to whom I can't communicate because I can't speak spanish), no painful drive home through the bumpy streets and crazy traffic of Bogota. I would also love for the boys to be able to be present and maybe involved a bit, or at the very least be able to come in right away and meet their baby sister. 

Baby sister.

That's still feels so weird to say.

And speaking of our family's newest estrogen-infused family member, today marks 99 DAYS UNTIL MY DUE DATE! While I'm likely to be overdue (as I was for all the boys except Nathaniel), it''s still fun to see that countdown app on our iPod go to double digits.

If any of you have home birth stories you care to share, I'd love to hear them! Either here in the comments of even a link to a blog post you may've written.

silent 'b', tears, and reasons to homeschool

At the boys' school, they have set up a really neat and useful system for parents. It's kind of an intranet type thing for which each family has a user name and password. Once logged in, it's possible to read notices from the school, email teachers (and possibly other parents, though I've never tried), pay money owed to the school, check the academic history of your child... and also check pending homework assignments. 

Liam's teacher, Mr. A, uses the system to send home the weeks' spelling words.

The spelling lists generally have a theme: 'oy' words, camping, silent 'k', etc. This week it's silent 'g' and 'b'.  The list contains the following words:

- gnomes

- gnat

- gnaw

- numb

- dumb

- bomb

- thumb

- crumb

- doubt

- tomb

You might not see it right away, but look at the fifth word down... 'dumb'? Really? With the vastness and richness of the English language, 'dumb' made the cut for words with a silent 'b'?? I realize that the word can be used properly -as in the deaf, dumb and hard of hearing- but I seriously doubt that's context in which most seven year olds use the word.

I know that 'dumb' isn't the worst word out there and that many seven year olds likely use it as part of their daily vocabulary. Liam, however, does not. While we wouldn't punish him if we did hear him using it, we would take the opportunity to talk to him about words that are respectful and those that aren't, and about the importance of being careful with the words we choose to use. We hope our children will grow up to be eloquent, articulate adults who can string together a sentence -even and especially in anger or frustration- that doesn't include base four-letter words.

I did send Mr A an email explaining my disappointment with the word choice, even suggesting some alternative (ie, comb, lamb, climb, etc). His response was kind, if somewhat dismissive. Apparently the word lists come from some National Literacy Strategies board in the UK (since it's a British school) for students in Year 3 (grade 2). He did say that they take the opportunity to talk to the kids about the true meaning of the word and its appropriate use, but still.

Am I completely out of line -and a total prude- to still think that having the word 'dumb' on a spelling list is questionable? It's not like Liam misspelled the word in an assignment and the teacher simply taught him the correct spelling... they're teaching the kids to spell it!

In the interest of full disclosure, this wasn't the first email I'd sent Mr A...

Last week Liam had a couple of very rough days at school. He told us all about what happened when he got home (and I'm quite happy that he still feels safe and confident enough to be that open with us, something I hope will continue for years and years to come!) but after hearing his account, I was a bit surprised and upset that his teacher hadn't written to us himself, either an email or in Liam's agenda...

Liam spent 10-15mins hiding under his desk -crying- during one of their breaks and his teacher didn't think it warranted a mention.

And so I sent Mr A an email (not harsh, but not overly cheerful either) explaining what Liam had told us and asking for an explanation as to why his teacher -the adult that we've entrusted with our son's care- did not feel it important enough to tell us himself. And Mr A did respond, quickly, with a very thoughtful email. I'll give him that.

But I'm pretty sure I've now cemented myself in his mind as the over-protective-overly-attached-prudish-mother-to-the-new-kid-in-class...

*sigh*

(The school just called and Liam has a fever. So I have to stuff some food into Andrew and I, change us out of our pjs, jump in the car, and drive the 30-60 minutes (depending on traffic) to the school and back to pick him up. Hmmm, wouldn't be doing this if we were still homeschooling...)

the bigger picture

At some point today, amid all the OHMYGOSHWASTHATJUSTANEARTHQUAKE that was happening on Twitter AND INSIDE  MY HEAD, I happened to click on a link posted by Christine from Coffees and Commutes. It was to a new writing initiative called Bigger Picture Moments whose goal is to encourage everyone to take a step back and take in the life we're living. I thought, hey neat, then went back to reading all the #earthquake fun.

(And believe me for those who missed it, once the shock wore off -pun intended- people really brought on the funny. Who knew you could make so many jokes about an earthquake??)

(On a more somber note, how blessed are we that WE CAN ACTUALLY MAKE JOKES ABOUT AN EARTHQUAKE? Although an earthquake of 5.0 isn't normally catastrophic, in many, MANY areas of the world it would mean untold tragedy and suffering for thousands. We. Are. Blessed.)

The Bigger Picture Moments stuck with me though. Originally, I had no intention of participating. I already have too much already that hasn't been blogged, too many pictures not edited and uploaded, too many stories not shared. 

And then it hit me.

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in projects and ideas and everything that I want to do -and everything I have to do- that what I am doing loses its importance. And more importantly, what my kids are doing loses its importance. 

It passes me by.

While I'm editing pictures or doing laundry or refinishing furniture or organizing my bookshelves by colour, I could be playing with my boys. My precious boys. I find myself saying, "not right now" or "just let mummy finish this" or "give me a few more minutes" too often. Not always, but more often than I'd like.

I'm not saying that these other things aren't worthy pursuits. Be it cooking or cleaning or crafting or organizing or working from the home (which is what I consider my photography to be), it all has a place.  

I think it's a matter of priorities. And while my boys are undoubtedly my top priority in my heart, sometimes in the daily grind they get pushed aside. Not roughly or rudely or harshly, but they nonetheless find themselves wanting me and having to wait.

Sometimes this is a necessity. The reality is that I can't focus on my children a hundred percent of the time. I do have to cook. I do have to clean and organize. I need to have projects and creative outlets. I have paying clients and deadlines. I know that I can't simply drop everything for them whenever they want me to.

But when I am with them, I really want to be all there. 

I want to relish their childhoods. I want to savour these precious little people they are right now and the amazing little-bit-bigger people they are becoming every day. They are a blessing. They are each a little gift. A precious gift.

I don't want it all to pass me by while I'm standing over the stove, or bend over a pile of laundry, or sitting in front of the computer, or stuck behind my camera. I want my boys to know that they are my priority. Not just in word, but in deed. When they are grown and look back at their childhoods, I want the images they see to be of me reading to them, me sitting next to them playing Lego, me having lightsaber duels with them (and pretending to be knocked over by the Force, which gets old very quick for me, but they love), me baking with them and painting with them and jumping in puddles WITH THEM.

This is the big picture I hope they see.

like father, like son

Before I get to the meat of the matter, a few of the things that Liam shared that he has in common with Peter:

• we both like to burp without saying "excuse me"
• we both like getting our feet and back rubbed
• we both like cleaning our noses before bed
• we both like spaghetti and garlic bread
• we both like to take showers
• we both have blue eyes
• we both love mommy and like bringing her home special things

I love the first one.

And the last one.

Ah, seven year olds.

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

A letter to Peter, on this Father's Day, listing (some of) the ways that you bless us:

We are blessed by your incredibly strong work ethic and the way you provide for our family.
We are blessed by your fierce devotion and loyalty to our family.
We are blessed by the sacrifices you make.
We are blessed by the compromises you make.
We are blessed by the steps you take to become the best father and husband you can be.
We are blessed by the steps you take to always grow in your relationship with God.
We are blessed by the time you spend with us and the effort you put into making ordinary days fun (even if they involve more treats than mom would normally allow).
We are blessed by your supreme grilled-cheese-making skills and your mastery of egg-in-a-hole.
We are blessed to be your top priority.
We are blessed by your strength, protection and the unconditional love you show us daily.

On days like Father's Day, everywhere you look in the stores (every greeting card, every cake top, every over-priced coffee mug) and everything you read online (every Father's Day related blog post, Facebook update, or tweet) is claiming their father or their husband as "the World's BEST Dad". In a way, it seems kind of empty. Like something we say because we're supposed to.

What I do know is that you are the best, the #1, and the World's greatest dad for this family. For these boys. For Liam, Simon and Andrew. In as much as they were each a gift to us, you are a gift to them. Peter, I can't imagine how different this day would be had our lives taken a different path. The mere thought is pretty terrifying. You are a gift to our boys and you are a gift to me. And today we celebrate you.

* * * * * * * * * * *

A little slideshow of pictures from this last year... the least silly ones. I wonder that Liam can't make a nice face for the camera, but after looking back at a year of pictures of Peter, the reason is now clear. One last item that Liam and Peter have in common:

• can't seem to take a nice picture with making a face/sticking their tongues out/making a gun out of their fingers/adding jazz hands.

Like father, like son.

I'm a sellout

Those of you who were readers this time last year will remember how excited Peter and I were to finally pay off our line of credit. We paid off $13,000 (thousand!!) in less than five months. That was no small feat and it definitely didn't come without major sacrifice.

The crazy thing was that we didn't really have anything to show for that debt. It's not like we'd been on vacations or had a house full of clothes and toys and electronics. It was debt that had slowly grown over the course of a few moves and times when I wasn't working, unexpected costs associated with buying our first house, etc. We're not big spenders. We never had been. Thirteen thousand dollars worth of debt notwithstanding, we're really very careful with our money. 

We're practical.

We haven't taken a family vacation in the last eight years (so none since even before we had kids), we buy used or second hand when possible, we never just "go shopping". When we get money for Christmas or birthdays, we have to fight against the urge to just put it in the bank. When we get our tax return or other lump sums of money, we always do the sensible thing.

The problem is that "the sensible thing" is never much fun...

This years tax return will once again be spent wisely (savings, extra van payments, our portion of my dad's funeral marker), used sensibly (some needed home renos), or put towards otherwise worthy causes (donated to charity, a new World Vision sponsor child -our fourth!!). But... BUT... Peter will once again be getting some retro pay for something-or-other, and he has decreed it fun -or blow- money. NOT A PENNY OF WHICH IS TO BE SPENT SENSIBLY!

So last weekend we bought two wine kits that we've started*, the first of which should be ready in about three weeks. 

We also decided to buy the boys brand new bikes**. 

Anther idea we had was to start a list of fun family things we can do this summer in the Ottawa area that we'll set money aside for. Things we wouldn't normally do, or wouldn't do as often. BECAUSE WE'RE SENSIBLE WITH OUR MONEY. Things like bowling (which the boys LOVE), Upper Canada Village, the Diefenbunker, maybe Park Omega again (last year's trip is here and here), taking the boys to Toy Story 3 in 3D, possibly renting paddle boats on Lansdowne Lake. We'll put all the ideas in a jar, then pick one whenever we have a free day together, knowing we have the money to do anything (and everything) in the jar. I'm super excited about this idea and can't wait to have a ton of fun with the boys this summer. Not everything in the jar will have a price tag, but there will be some activities that we just wouldn't normally be able to justify. So, Ottawa peeps, fire your best ideas at me!

More to the point of this post, however, is that some of that blow money has been ear-marked for a purchase that was previously considered absolutely UN-necessary, ILL-advised, and pretty much the antithesis of frugality and sensible money management... a Nintendo Wii (had to throw the "Nintendo" in there just incase you've been living under a rock and didn't know what a plain "Wii" was *rolls eyes at self*).

Liam has, for the last year, been bearing the full brunt of the unfairness of the fact that WE DO NOT OWN A GAME SYSTEM. Even though ALL OF HIS FRIENDS OWN A GAME SYSTEM. And, in his mind, every (other) living being on the planet MUST OWN A GAME SYSTEM. His insistence that we, too, must own a game system was enough to make me swear one would never enter our home. That sense of entitlement is one of the very reasons that we hope to move our family to Africa in the next few years... to shock it out of them! And yet last night I found myself frantically calling all the Best Buys and Future Shops in a 50km radius in a desperate attempt to track down a store that has them in stock so I can buy one in time for Easter.

Let me assure you that it was not Liam's heavy pout that finally broke us down. Rather, Peter and Liam (and Simon to a lesser degree) have started playing a couple of computer games together -only on the weekends- and they really enjoy it. I will keep claiming that I don't know how to play for as long as possible, which not only gets me out of ever having to play, but also ensure that it's a special father-son activity. Truth be told, Peter's been drooling over a Wii since they came out and is secretly giddy that I've finally relented on my strict no-game-system attitude (no, my iMac doesn't count thankyouverymuch), cause, you know... it's for the kids.

So there you have it. We're getting a Wii. Four words I swore I'd never write/say. (sigh)

Don't be silly enough to think that we're just going to hand it over though. No siree. Even though we'd already made the decision to buy a Wii, we told Liam that we would get one once he learned how to ride a two-wheeler. Not in a negative-consequence-for-if-you-don't-let-go-of-your-training-wheels kind of way, but as a reward/encouragement/motivator for learned to ride on two wheels. This might seem shocking to some of you who don't parent by way of rewards, but you have to understand that Liam only got a bike near the end of last summer and, up until now, has been very, VERY nervous about even riding up and down our driveway. He lacked confidence, feared falling (ie, failing... what can I say? he's MY SON), and had zero motivation to learn to ride. Even WITH training wheels.

So about a week and a half ago, we sat him down and explained that we knew that riding his bike made him nervous and that he wasn't very excited about practicing. We also explained that, with summer coming, all of his friends would be wanting to ride bikes and we knew he wouldn't want to be left behind. We told him that we knew he'd love it once he figured out how to ride a two-wheeler. We told him we knew he'd do great if he'd just commit to practicing every day. And we told him that, once he'd mastered riding on two wheels, we'd celebrate his effort and determination... by buying a Wii.

Folks, 10 days out and he can speed up, ride, right himself, slow down, and stop. He needs to practice starting and turning, but a few more days and he'll be golden. Ergo my frantic calls to track down an available Wii.

Our plan is to have a scavenger hunt in place of/in addition to an easter egg hunt with the Wii as the treasure.

Liam doesn't know that we were going to buy the Wii regardless. 

I guess he'll find out when he reads this post! *hi grown up Liam*

*Okay, that's a bit sensible since we'll be paying less than $5/bottle for the exact same wine that would cost $28/bottle at the wine store, but this is not something we would have been able to fit into the budget and, hey, it's wine! wine + summer = sangria 'round these parts! yummo!)

**Okay, we initially had decided to get the boys brand new bikes, but then I googled "ottawa used bikes" and found myself dragging the boys down to Bike Dump and spending $30 for a bike for each of the boys... but cmon! Thirty bucks! For two bikes! (*hangs head* I'm such a tightwad) 

P.S. A post without pictures! *shock*

before & after

From this:

To this:

 

Once again,

He really is a happy child, I promise. He was just into the whole pensive, "thinker" pose yesterday. While it doesn't showcase his adorable, gap-toothed smile to its full potential, I'LL TAKE IT over the regular grimaces and jazz hands.

And for the record, this haircut was NOT MY IDEA. Anyone who knows me knows I love long hair on little boys, but Liam -once again- has a little brother who has entered the hair pulling stage (don't want to mention any names *cough*Andrew*cough, cough*) and has been begging for a hair cut for the last few weeks. I finally gave in. He pulls off a shaved head really well, but I'll miss his curls. *sniff*

goodbye Buckwheat

Someone got a hold of Liam's loose tooth Sunday night.

(And by "someone", I mean ME.)

I just couldn't stand looking at his tooth hanging out of his mouth any longer. My first unsuccesful attempt to pull it out produced a small squeal of pain (and a small amount of blood). A firmer grasp for my second attempt, a sharp tug, and it was out. Liam jumped away from me, holding his mouth and saying, "Just tell me first BEFORE you do it." and then looked over to see his tooth sitting in the palm of my hand. He was THRILLED at the size of the gap.

"Now I have a place for my straw!"

No kidding! Look at that hole! If his other front tooth falls out anytime soon, he'll be able to eat a burger WITHOUT EVEN OPENING HIS MOUTH.

Not wanting for Simon to feel left out, I let him mug a bit for the camera. Sherbet face and all.

Take a look at his bite in the first picture. See how off it is? His front teeth cross almost in an 'X' but not even in the center.  He's only three years old (his birthday is tomorrow *ack*), but I can tell it's already affecting his speech. He really struggles with 's' and 'c' because his teeth don't line up properly in the front. Try it. Say 'ssssssssss' normally, now shift your lower jaw to one side and try. It comes out more like 'shshshshsh' or 'chchchchch'. I know that HE can tell he's not doing it right because he flat out refuses to read* words with an 's' in them. He's always said his 's's strangely, but we always thought it was cute. They came out like an 'x' sound. So 'eggs' was 'eggx', 'hand' were 'handx', 'kids' were 'kidx'. Now it's kind of making sense.

Think I should be worried about this yet?

*I'm slowly going through the book Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons -which I LOVE and HIGHLY recommend- with Simon whenever he shows interest. Liam was doing about 5 lessons a day for the first month or so, but is now down to one a day since they are more difficult. Simon usually asks to "do school" two or three times a week, and this is the book we do together. Liam has made AMAZING progress and gone from being easily frustrated with reading, to being able to read short stories without any help. Simon (a day shy of three years old) can read simple words like: mat, sat, read, at, see, me, eat, meat, it, sit, etc. Except that he makes me do all the words with 's' in them.

Hello Buckwheat

Don't you just want to grab that tooth and yank it out?? And believe me,

I've tried. But whatever thread it's hanging by is a strong one.

do you see it?

Last week I mentioned that we'd taken the family to see a chiropractor and when we returned a few days later to see the developed x-rays, we saw an obvious curve in Liam's spine. Peter and I and Dr Quirk all hoped that some of the curve was due to how he was standing and that it would not be quite so pronounced a curve when re-examined.

We went back yesterday for another appointment and more x-rays. To begin with, Dr Quirk had Liam take off his shirt and move around (raise his arms, bend and touch his toes, etc), all the while pointing things out. Now that we know it's there, I can't believe we didn't see it on our own long before this.

Take a look at this picture I took this morning.

Maybe nothing jumps out at you, but look at it again, this time focusing on the height of his shoulders and where his spine runs between his shoulder blades.

Do you see it now?

To make it even more obvious, I've added some lines. The black shows where his spine should be and how his shoulders and hips should line up. The red is how they actually are (although I don't think I did the neck right. I just remember him saying that there's a secondary curve near the base of his neck, but that the neck itself is perfect).

Now do you see it? How did we miss it all these years?

Liam, for his part, is not at all phased by the news that his spine is curved. He says his back never hurts (although he does have some wicked bad growing pains in his legs that might be related). He was thrilled to see "his skeleton" on the x-rays and to have all the bones and organs pointed out to him by the doctor.

And Simon? Well he was thrilled to learn how to turn on the wall-mounted light boxes...

feeling the pressure

NaBloPoMo is stressing me out! It's after 11:30pm and here I am, after a very full day, throwing a post together. I will try not to make this the norm, but today you'll have to take what you can get. Because not only is it late, but my mind is full of the stressful ramblings of a mother who just found out that he son very likely has scoliosis.

Peter and I just returned from a report session with our new chiropractor (can I take a moment to say "ahhhhhhh" after my first ajustment in over three years?), Dr Quirk. This last Wednesday, the boys and I all had initial exams, and Liam and I had x-rays taken. Tonight, the Dr first showed us the image of Liam's perfect neck, and then proceeded to stick up the x-ray of his torso. Initially, I thought it was a side view HIS SPINE WAS THAT CURVED, but it was infact a front view.

Looking at it, even an untrained eye can see a pronounced curve.

Looking at it, my skin started to prickle, my head began spinning and I was getting hot flashes. It felt like I had heat radiating out of my eyes. I had such a physical reaction to those images! My baby, my Liam, has something wrong with him. Something inside of him. Something THAT I HAD NO IDEA ABOUT. That has potential been there for years and we were doing nothing to correct.

I feel sick.

I know it's not the end of the world. It's not life-threatening. And Dr Quirk is confident that he can correct it, and that it might even be as bad as the x-ray suggested. But still. I don't like this feeling.

Friday Flashback

While reading through comments left here and visiting all of my visitors blogs, I came across this fun carnival hosted by Alicia at More Than Words. It's called "Friday Photo Flashback" and is meant to be a chance to share some of our pre-digital pictures.

Here's mine,

This picture was taken in Dec 2003, when Liam was just over 6 months old.

Look how little! Look how adorable! Gah, I can hardly stand the cuteness!

And just take in the fresh-faced youngness of Peter and I! We don't look near old enough to be parents. I love this picture even though it's kind of poor quality. This is a scan, but even the original is rough. We sat for this just before Peter's parents left Calgary for Egypt.

Liam: month 72

How is it possible that my little boy is six today?? In my mind, five is still almost a baby, but six - six!- just doesn't sound so little any more.

boo, flash photography - yeah, cute kid.

Liam, this was a year of big changes for you. Leaving the only house, friends, and family you've ever known and moving across the country. This move included not only a new province, new city, new house, new church and new friends, but also a completely different language. Although you definitely struggled at the beginning, it has been amazing to see how your language skills have exploded this last month - and your confidence also.

Earlier this year, we began using a chore chart with you. This chart includes all of the tasks that you are required to do each day to take care of yourself and your things, and it also lists several tasks that you can do to earn a little bit of money. Each week, you divide your earnings into "save", "give" and "spend" jars. You chose to keep saving your "spend" money until you had enough to buy a larger toy. With the money you received for your birthday, you had a whopping $61 to spend!

For days you talked about everything you were going to get and lamented about how you would be able to make a final decision. You carried your jar around all morning and counted down the minutes until we would leave for the store. GREAT was your excitement at finally being able to spend your money.

On the way to the store, I reminded you of your sponsor "brother", Adi, in Romania with whom you share a birthday and year. I asked you what kind of a party you thought he would be having and whether you thought it might be a nice idea to use some of your money to buy him a present since he probably wouldn't be getting many gifts. I approached the subject tentatively and with all sorts of defense arguements already formulated, but to my complete and utter amazement surprise, you simply said, "Yeah, great idea."

Great idea?? Just like that? No wailing? No gnashing of teeth?

After deliberating for a painfully long time in the Lego aisle of Toys R Us, you finally decided on a Power Miners set for $25.99. When I gently reminded you about a gift for Adi, you first picked up a small ATV Lego set for $5.99, looked it over, then set it down and handed me a larger pirates set for $12.99. I mentioned that the one in your hand was twice as much money as the first one you'd looked at, but you insisted. You wanted to buy him the larger set because it could also be turned into a fire station, boat dock, etc, and would make a better toy. It didn't matter that it cost more.

And didn't your ol' mum's heart sing! I was so proud of you!


We've been talking over the last few days about having another party (I know, I'm crazy) for your friends from school. When I asked who you would like to invite, you proceeded to name off EVERY CHILD IN YOUR CLASS, and when I thought the list was done, you added the names of another three or four boys that you play with on the playground.

I told you that I thought it would be a good rule to invite as many kids as there are candles on your cake. In your case, that would mean only six friends. The panic in your voice made for a sound that likely only dogs and dolphins can hear. You insisted that you just couldn't decide and in fact might actually die if forced to choose.


So I gave you the following choice: a small party with six friends, a SIMPLE cake, gifts, a few games, etc, OR a big party with ALL your friends but the invitation would state NO GIFTS. Again, I was expecting a minor explosion, but you immediately chose the second options that wouldn't leave any of your friends out. When I explained that a birthday is a time to celebrate and have fun with the people you care about, your response was, "Yeah, and friends are more important than presents."

This from the boy who has the Lego Club CATALOG magazine memorized and can deftly ramble off a list of no less than a dozen Lego sets he has his eye on. Once again I was surprised and impressed by your maturity and your open and caring heart.


Last night as we were cuddling in bed, I was going on somewhat dramatically about how old you were getting and how soon you're not going to want to be my baby anymore. You put you arms around me and STARTED CRYING, saying that you didn't want to grow up and for me to be a grandma and MOOOOVE AWAAAAAY.

Huh?

Seems you took our resent reading of Love You Forever to heart and were a bit freaked out by the bit where the aging mother drives across town and breaks into sneaks into her grown son's house to rock him to sleep. I assured you that that would never happen and that you can live with me at least until you're eighteen for as long as you want.

(Then you asked how old I'll be this year. When I said I'll be 30, you said, "Wow, you're almost 40!". Um. Not quite.)

I love you, Liam.

(P.S. Yes, you do own more than one sweater, I just happen to love how this one brings out your eyes so I put it on you whenever it's clean, which has been almost constantly with two grandmas around to do laundry before it has a chance to hit the floor. Plus it's been almost cold enough later to wear a winter coat - IN JUNE.)

party in pictures

Liam, could you just stand still? I want to take a picture! Right. Thanks.

The big kid in the middle is Patrick.

The relative safety of the playhouse.

Andrew and his buddy, Alexis.

Death Star pinata painted by Nana and mum, decorated by the birthday boy himself.

Almost life-size to my 4 1/2 month old. I've never wanted to
pick up a cake and rock it before...

BIRTHDAY BOY

Sharing the rebozo love with little Remi and the lovely Shanon.

But you told me I couldn't have Bionicles til I was seven, mom!

A post with the cake details will have to wait for another day. Suffice to say it was a lot of work but it was TOTALLY WORTH IT.

I love you, Liam.

How we did it:
pre-party planning and ideas
the invitation how-to
pool noodle lightsabers
marshmallow fondant
the cake (in less than 100 pictures)
the big day