I’m glad this isn’t my first pregnancy, otherwise I’d be a mess and wanting to switch doctors. It took me literally 20 phone calls to reach a receptionist at my obstetrician’s office last week. I was calling a few times a day, and each time it would go to a machine. And after I left a message and didn’t get a return phone call, I knew that was an exercise in futility. Out of curiosity, I ended up on a ‘rate my MD’ website and read some pretty nasty stuff about my doctor. I think I will be fine with her – the one time I have seen her, she was nice, and acted fast (which I appreciated as I had to get to work; other people would be upset by this). But if I was having complications, or even just experiencing the general unknowns of pregnancy number one, I think I’d be freaking out.
No time to think about that stuff anyway, we’ve been rather busy. Mark’s mum and step dad came over from Blighty on the 8th, and we’ve tried to show them some of Ontario while still working full time and running after Oliver (just slightly challenging).
No, I promise I didn’t try to push him over the Falls:
Visiting Ottawa; Grandma Brenda (Mark’s mum) and Great Grandma Fitton (my maternal grandmother):
His new obsession is birds; that’s what they were looking at (my grandmother has an active bird feeder):
Stuffing his face on my grandmother’s excellent bbq’d ribs, and rice and all sorts (actually he unusually just picked at it; the rest of us really stuffed our faces):
I remember, when I look at this photo, that I never blog enough about how much he changes all the time – how good he is at using utensils now, how he has a love/hate relationship with his high chair (if he’s in it, food is coming, but he hates being tied down and I think he wants a normal chair). Or how he invents games lately, like one where he peers at me from around the coffee table and tries to get me to chase him.
I enjoy how active he is. I always said, when I worked front line in social services (particularly in developmental disabilities), that it was always easier to work with the men than the women. The men would be up for activities, would get on with the task. The women would be whiny and slow. Yes, I am making generalizations, but I am aware I also fit the bill, being extremely whiny and slow!
So this is the positive thing about having another boy. Yes, the scan says it’s another boy. Mark says he works with someone who thought they were having a boy on the scan, and the technician turned out to be wrong. But, I thought it was a boy, I am sure it’s a boy. Especially as I said if it was a girl, we probably definitely most likely would not have anymore as I hate pregnancy, labour, newborn days (e.g. just about everything), too much.
A boy means we don’t really need to buy anything (mental note: start making Oliver wear bibs again to protect against stainage). A boy means, for some reason, names are easier to come up with. And a boy means we’ll know pretty much what to expect but for personality differences.
But it would have been nice, yesterday, to have bought pink dresses on clearance at the Superstore rather than blue sleepers! (okay, so we got number 2 a couple of new things; if we don’t, he’s going to have a complex big time)
(Big congrats to Lisa and Paul and big brother Jack, as they are needing those pink dresses with the arrival today of Mia Yoshiko!)