Category: Family Matters

Colin and Robert were asking about heritage and nationality – inspired by my claddagh – and we told Robert he was Canadian.
He is now convinced we bought him at Canadian Tire.

Dina’s Dad is in the hospital, in Intensive Care. He’ll be having surgery at some point today. I don’t have all the details, but it’s something with his heart.
Lou has the best heart. He’s a warm, loving, generous father, husband and Poppy. He’s always treated me like a daughter.
So, please, send a positive thought his way today.
Update
Update, too

Well, it’s Monday. It’s just after 10 a.m. Which means that I am in the car, on my way to work for the week…
But wait – no I’m not! I’m at home, tending to flu-ridden child and hubby. Sigh. At least Colin is now old enough to appreciate why one runs to the toilet, so there’s been a lot less sheet and comforter washing.
Frankly, the hardest part is keeping Robert, who is not sick but who is four, occupied.

Went to the Atwater Market.
Stocked up on fresh veggies and sesame seeds.
Scored some ‘nip for the cat.
Happy day for all concerned.

Colin and I are both enjoying our Spring Break, albeit without beaches or cabana boys. Yesterday we took the Metro all the way to the eastern end of the Green line, and today, we’re going all the way to Angrignon – and we’re stopping at every station along the way to get a transfer, just to show we’ve been there.
Have I mentioned that Colin is six?

Since a recent entry was devoted to the bon mots of my older son, I felt it necessary to point out that my younger son, Robert, is capable of reducing his parents to giggling fools, too.
Case in point: Dr. T and I have always tried to be very frank and open about body parts and their related functions (which has led to several inadvertent witticisms from Colin, but this is Robert’s entry). As anyone with small male children will attest, at some point all small boys discover the joys of their own penises. Robert is at that stage.
We have not told Robert that he can’t touch himself, only that his penis is a private part, and, as such, should (a) remain in his pants whenever possible and (b) be touched only when he’s alone.
The other day Robert was, um, occupying himself with his penis while I was putting away his laundry in the same room. So I said “don’t forget, Robert, that you should only touch your penis when there’s no one else around.”
Robert’s reply: “Ok, Mummy, you can go away now.”

Colin, my six-year-old son, has some interesting ideas. This afternoon, I asked him to look for a pair of nail clippers (the cat is too sharp these days). He returned empty-handed, and announced that he thinks that “God is taking our stuff.”
Later, he read a note from his school, which ends with a reminder about next Friday’s ped day: “Day care activities must be registered for.” Colin read this aloud, raised his eyebrow, and said ” ‘For’ what? I think this is backwards.”
Alas, yes, my son has determined that sentence-ending prepositions are something up with which he will not put.

My grandmother is 85. She has all her own teeth, and does not use Miss Clairol to keep her hair brown. She wears a hearing aid, but no glasses. She is definitely all there mentally.
She has Parkinson’s, and is now confined to a wheelchair. She lives in a private room in a nursing home in Ontario. When she needs to pee, she has to ring her bell for help. Geographically, I am her closest relative – and I live more than an hour away by car.
Yesterday, I accompanied her to a liver specialist to try to get to the bottom of her most recent affliction, jaundice. Because of the weakness in her legs and other factors, it is next to impossible to get her anywhere by car, so we had to rely on an ambulance to get her to and from the doctor’s office. Since budget cuts have reduced the number of ambulances serving the area, non-emergency transports like my grandmother’s are the lowest priority, and we waited almost two hours for some one to bring us home after the appointment.
The doctor has recommended a CT scan and an ERCP, which means we’ll have to get her to and from the Civic Hospital in Ottawa, an hour away.
My grandmother is very tired. It’s all she can talk about. She was tired before we started on our grand tour yesterday. By the time the doctor’s appointment was over, she was exhausted. By the time the ambulance finally arrived to bring us home, she was starting to scare me. I had visions of myself having to explain to my dad that… well, you know.
Every time she closed her eyes, I got nervous. I managed to resist the urge to poke her, but I found myself reliving those scary moments as a new mother, watching the chest for breathing, just to reassure yourself that you haven’t inadvertently killed some one.
My grandmother, who taught me to swim and made almond shortbread crescents every Christmas, is tired and weak and scared.
I still remember the way those almond cookies melted in my mouth.

Tidbits written at the Royal Victoria Hospital
8:23 a.m. So the phone rang this morning at the ungodly hour of 7:30 (it rang prior to that as well, but I guess we were too fast asleep to hear it). After a frantic search for the phone, which was hiding in the kitchen, I retrieved a message from Steve.
So now I’m at the Royal Vic, in the waiting room, waiting.
Dina’s water broke this morning, and she’s at this very moment under the knife, having a baby!!!
As some of you know, this has not been the easiest of pregnancies. Dina’s been watching every mouthful of food since being diagnosed with gestational diabetes. The most recent issue has been the fact that the baby refused to turn, and was presenting in a frank breech (butt first). In Quebec, and many other places, they will not deliver a breech vaginally, and automatically sign you up for a C-section. Dina did go in for a ‘version,’ a procedure with which they try to turn the baby, but at the last minute they decided against it because all the signs were against it being successful.
And now, in just a matter of minutes, I’m going to be an almost-aunt!
9:14 a.m.
It’s a boy!!!!
Bennett Wark weighed in at 6 lbs, 2 oz, moments ago.
I have not seen the new Mom yet, but believe me when I say Dad is glowing. Steve seems very relaxed, quite an accomplishment under the circumstances, and, of course, really, really happy.
I brought my camera, so I will be posting the first pix of Bennett – probably with this post, as a matter of fact. That’s the problem with blogging in advance. I have no idea what the next entry will bring…
1:17 p.m.
I have pictures, but I’m not allowed to post them. Parental priority or some such nonsense. We’re in the post-partum room now, chatting and generally being quietly thrilled. Ben is gorgeous and tiny and miraculous. Post-partum recovery seems to be going well, Dina is happy and only slightly dizzy. Pictures available soon!!

Happy anniversary, happy anniversary
Happy anniversary Haaaaaapy anniversary.
Happy, happy, happy, happy, happy anniversary.

Love you, sweetie. (K)