Today James, Colin and I went to see an ultrasound of our newest family member. Everything looked excellent, which was a relief. I know the ultrasound is usually an exciting event of pregnancy, but I was extremely nervous, both this time and last. I feel that until I actually see that everything is okay, things are up in the air. The ten minutes or so it takes for the technician to take all the photos feel like hours! I'm lying there, completely helpless, staring up into her face and desperately trying to discern from her facial expressions what is going on. She gave nothing away, which only compounded to my already frayed nerves.
But it all checked out great, and it was very clear that we are having a boy. Of course, we're not getting the baby's name put on anything before the birth, because you never know. However the technician seemed to have no doubt, it's a boy!
So all things going well, Caleb Gawthroupe will join our family around November 11!
Wednesday, 13 June 2007
Tuesday, 12 June 2007
Colin's first scraped knee
The temperature peaked above 30 degrees Celsius. The sun beat down, challenging any amount of lathered on sunscreen. Our air-conditioner-free apartment started to bake. It was time to pull out the sandals and shorts for Colin.
He often runs around our place in shorts, or even just a diaper, no problem. But he's always worn pants when I've taken him out, mostly due to cooler weather, but also to protect those beautiful smooth cream-coloured knees.
The sandals are new. He only ever wears one pair of shoes, but today it was just too hot for socks and shoes.
His outfit was adorable, with his beige ballcap, brightly coloured striped t-shirt, shorts too long (reaching just above the knees, but often falling below that), and little brown sandals.
The trouble started on the walk down the hall. The weight, size and feel of the shoes were new and were throwing him a little off balance. He kept glancing down to find his footing, racing ahead too fast and tripping over himself again.
We had to walk down 50 feet of cold, hard concrete sidewalk to get to the car. We had passed the halfway mark when it happened. One toe caught the other, and down he went. My hand shot out, too slow.
Colin scraped his knee.
He was down for only a moment when, encouraged by my words, he pushed himself back up to standing. He stared at me with wide eyes. I knelt down to inspect the damage, pulling back the ends of the shorts. There on his right knee the cream-coloured skin had been gently sraped away to reveal a small white patch (truly no bigger than a nickle).
I smothered a proud grin long enough to answer his outstretched arms by scooping him up into my own. There was no more fuss about it from either of us, but I document the moment here. I myself was a child of bumps and bruises and scrapes, and I know this will only be the beginning. I feel an extra kinship with my son today.
He often runs around our place in shorts, or even just a diaper, no problem. But he's always worn pants when I've taken him out, mostly due to cooler weather, but also to protect those beautiful smooth cream-coloured knees.
The sandals are new. He only ever wears one pair of shoes, but today it was just too hot for socks and shoes.
His outfit was adorable, with his beige ballcap, brightly coloured striped t-shirt, shorts too long (reaching just above the knees, but often falling below that), and little brown sandals.
The trouble started on the walk down the hall. The weight, size and feel of the shoes were new and were throwing him a little off balance. He kept glancing down to find his footing, racing ahead too fast and tripping over himself again.
We had to walk down 50 feet of cold, hard concrete sidewalk to get to the car. We had passed the halfway mark when it happened. One toe caught the other, and down he went. My hand shot out, too slow.
Colin scraped his knee.
He was down for only a moment when, encouraged by my words, he pushed himself back up to standing. He stared at me with wide eyes. I knelt down to inspect the damage, pulling back the ends of the shorts. There on his right knee the cream-coloured skin had been gently sraped away to reveal a small white patch (truly no bigger than a nickle).
I smothered a proud grin long enough to answer his outstretched arms by scooping him up into my own. There was no more fuss about it from either of us, but I document the moment here. I myself was a child of bumps and bruises and scrapes, and I know this will only be the beginning. I feel an extra kinship with my son today.
Moms raising sons
I caught an interesting interview with the co-author of a book about fathers raising daughters and mothers raising sons. I grew up with only sisters, and James grew up in a house of brothers, so it was a poignant conversation to catch. Neither of us have any experience of being in a house with siblings of the opposite sex.
The first gold nugget (and the one that hooked me into the program) was "God tailor-made our children for us." I have always believed that Colin was a part of our family before we came here, but I never considered that his complete make-up is exactly what I need to grow and learn as a woman and mother. These past few days I have viewed each challenge and each moment of joy in a new light. What is my little boy bringing to me? How am I growing for having interacted with him? Why is this a trial we need to go through together?
The second little jewel was "Boys are born to be challengers." Most often girls are content to sit and socialize, and even the active ones are hardwired with a need for communication. Boys are conquerors. They want to be strong. They need to go out and meet the world head on. They can't be saved from scraped knees and emotional topples. (Luckily, I myself also have a bit of the conqueror in me, and today I was even a little proud of Colin's first scraped knee.)
The advice given by the author was definitely food for thought. Boys innately love their mothers and are protective of them. However, they often don't see them as a 'woman'. She's just 'my mom'. This can often be why men will defend their mothers to the ground and in the next breath be so degrading to other women around them. Mothers need to teach their sons about respect for all women. Teach them table manners, and to open the door. Teach them to listen and to intelligently converse with women. Speaking as a woman, I can definitely report that chivalry is not dead, and there is nothing a woman appreciates more than being made to feel special.
It was an enlightening interview that cast a bright light on my hope of raising my children. I'm currently reading about the marketing traps set for children and teens, and amid the horror of it all, I needed to be reminded that I still can be the biggest influence in my children's lives. It was a bright ray of sunshine I truly needed.
The first gold nugget (and the one that hooked me into the program) was "God tailor-made our children for us." I have always believed that Colin was a part of our family before we came here, but I never considered that his complete make-up is exactly what I need to grow and learn as a woman and mother. These past few days I have viewed each challenge and each moment of joy in a new light. What is my little boy bringing to me? How am I growing for having interacted with him? Why is this a trial we need to go through together?
The second little jewel was "Boys are born to be challengers." Most often girls are content to sit and socialize, and even the active ones are hardwired with a need for communication. Boys are conquerors. They want to be strong. They need to go out and meet the world head on. They can't be saved from scraped knees and emotional topples. (Luckily, I myself also have a bit of the conqueror in me, and today I was even a little proud of Colin's first scraped knee.)
The advice given by the author was definitely food for thought. Boys innately love their mothers and are protective of them. However, they often don't see them as a 'woman'. She's just 'my mom'. This can often be why men will defend their mothers to the ground and in the next breath be so degrading to other women around them. Mothers need to teach their sons about respect for all women. Teach them table manners, and to open the door. Teach them to listen and to intelligently converse with women. Speaking as a woman, I can definitely report that chivalry is not dead, and there is nothing a woman appreciates more than being made to feel special.
It was an enlightening interview that cast a bright light on my hope of raising my children. I'm currently reading about the marketing traps set for children and teens, and amid the horror of it all, I needed to be reminded that I still can be the biggest influence in my children's lives. It was a bright ray of sunshine I truly needed.
Booster shots
Colin got his last booster shot today...he giggled through the entire process. Something about getting needles tickles him! Go figure.
Wednesday, 6 June 2007
Sometimes you just have to laugh
My dear little boy has taken to walking around wearing other people's shoes - most often my own heels!
Tuesday, 5 June 2007
The good old standards
I've mentioned before how much Colin enjoys "reading". We have a mountain of books - new and old, board books, interactive books, picture books and word books. We have many of those new ones designed to sustain a toddler's attention, with flaps and bright colours and activities. However Colin's favourite book is one written and first published almost 70 years ago! "Pat the Bunny", or known affectionately here as "Pa!", is a book that is enjoyed daily, multiple times. The drawings and colours are simple, and the activities very basic. And yet for some reason it this is oldy-but-goody that has captured Colin. I love that Colin is drawn to this book, because it reminds me that we don't need to flood our house with flashy things.
I think it says so much about consumerism and the products of our day and of yesterday. I could jump on a tirade here, but I'll hold back and let you consider the thoughts in relation to your own life.
(Colin, forgive us those days when the book mysteriously disappears!)
I think it says so much about consumerism and the products of our day and of yesterday. I could jump on a tirade here, but I'll hold back and let you consider the thoughts in relation to your own life.
(Colin, forgive us those days when the book mysteriously disappears!)
Sunday, 3 June 2007
Behaviour vs. Temperament
I've been learning an interesting lesson this week on the differences between behaviour and temperament - and I'm sure glad I picked this up now and not in another six months. I'm classifying behaviour as something learned, a habit picked up. Temperament, rather, is part of the innate personality. Where behaviour can be disciplined and rewarded, temperament needs careful checking and overcoming, although it will always lie there, deep inside. "Little Women" is one of my favourite books, and in it Mrs. March and her daughter Jo discuss a little bit about parts of their temperament. Mrs. March reveals that she has an awful habit of flying off the handle when her emotions rise, and she lets them get the better of her. Jo remarks that she has never seen this side of her mother, and Mrs. March confides that those moments when she slips out of a room quietly, or presses her lips together, she is battling that very temper. Although after years of careful practice this part of her rarely seeps out, it still lies dormant inside.
Lately Colin has taken to displaying his impatient side more often. He is a brilliant toddler who picks things up after only seeing them done once, but he is easily frustrated by his lack of ability to complete more difficult things. He also screams and yells when he isn't getting what he wants. I know that some might observe him and comment "what a terribly behaved little boy" - but he can't help these innate characteristics right now. As he grows we'll have to work with him on them, but being only 18 months, we can't expect too much from him.
A perfect example of this personality is evident in a story I will always remember, of when he was only a day old. Everyone had left the hospital and it was just Colin and me, settling down for his first night. Then, all of a sudden, he started to cry - scream, really. No amount of feeding, rocking or singing would calm him. The nurses couldn't figure out why he went on and on, for hours. Tired and needing to use the bathroom, I finally laid him down in his crib and stepped into the bathroom for a minute. Within a minute, there was silence. After the initial panic passed, I rushed to the crib and found him sleeping peacefully. I was completely puzzled, until I my foot stepped on something on the floor, beside the bed. It was his little ankle identity bracelet. His poor little foot was red from scratching where it had bothered him. Somehow in the minute I was away, he had managed to wiggle his way out of the anklet and toss it out onto the floor! The nurses were astonished - they had never seen a baby able to do that before! But that was my little persistent, brilliant and frustrated child.
Lately Colin has taken to displaying his impatient side more often. He is a brilliant toddler who picks things up after only seeing them done once, but he is easily frustrated by his lack of ability to complete more difficult things. He also screams and yells when he isn't getting what he wants. I know that some might observe him and comment "what a terribly behaved little boy" - but he can't help these innate characteristics right now. As he grows we'll have to work with him on them, but being only 18 months, we can't expect too much from him.
A perfect example of this personality is evident in a story I will always remember, of when he was only a day old. Everyone had left the hospital and it was just Colin and me, settling down for his first night. Then, all of a sudden, he started to cry - scream, really. No amount of feeding, rocking or singing would calm him. The nurses couldn't figure out why he went on and on, for hours. Tired and needing to use the bathroom, I finally laid him down in his crib and stepped into the bathroom for a minute. Within a minute, there was silence. After the initial panic passed, I rushed to the crib and found him sleeping peacefully. I was completely puzzled, until I my foot stepped on something on the floor, beside the bed. It was his little ankle identity bracelet. His poor little foot was red from scratching where it had bothered him. Somehow in the minute I was away, he had managed to wiggle his way out of the anklet and toss it out onto the floor! The nurses were astonished - they had never seen a baby able to do that before! But that was my little persistent, brilliant and frustrated child.
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