Mixed Feelings

I hadn't intended on writing a blog post today. I only write when a particular topic strikes me, or I feel inspired. However, I stumbled across an article this morning that I couldn't ignore.

Being the pop culture junkie that I am, in addition to my daily check of news sites, I also check out People and Us Weekly online. I don't follow the Kardashian clan closely, save for the articles in these magazines. I don't watch their TV shows on E! and I didn't tune into the wedding (or the beginning of the end in some cases).

Kourtney Kardashian announced her pregnancy - and she is only nine weeks along. In her words, "You're supposed to wait 12 weeks to tell people, but I feel confident."

I too felt confident before. Having had a seamless conception and pregnancy with Lucas, when we got pregnant the second time, we didn't really wait to tell immediate family our news. Who would've imagined in the same week we would share equally heartbreaking news?

So I feel nervous for her. Nervous for this woman that I have never met and am not invested in. Nervous that she trumpeted her pregnancy to the world (and in print reaching 13.1 million readers per week), only because I know how quickly things can go wrong.

I can appreciate her excitement. I can appreciate the elation that one feels. But I also appreciate that no matter how "confident" one can feel, this is something out of a person's control.

So Kourtney, though I wouldn't have done the same in your position, I wish you well.

Yakkity Yak, Don't Talk Back

As Lucas's language has developed, many mom friends agreed that one day it was like a switch was flipped and talking grew leaps and bounds. For us, that switch flipped last week while in Florida.

Lucas was repeating every new word, confirming how it was pronounced and pointing to whatever we were discussing to ensure he was talking about the correct thing. He was stringing sentences together, asking proper questions and using pronouns. He was constantly talking or singing, as we looked on in amazement about how his comprehension has grown.

I can have conversations with him, asking him about his day and explaining a new concept to him. In turn, he's able to articulate his needs and wants without pitching a fit (though those happen sometimes too).

He's also started to mimic our behaviour. In trying to diminish how often I use the word "No," I started saying "Stop" and putting my hand up. It was only a day until Lucas and I were dancing along in the street party on Main Street USA at the Magic Kingdom when he put up his hand and said "Stop Mama." Believe me, any questionable words have been banished from our house since his ears are finely tuned. This has proved a bit challenging for friends who frequently have cuss words spilling out of their mouths (yes, I'm talking about you IK).

I know that since Lucas is turned ON, there is no OFF, until he becomes a teenager, only speaking monosyllabic words or grunts. For now, I'll take it.

The First Cut is the Deepest

My perfect little angel has his first blemish. Three stitches. Like his grandfather, aunt and his mother before him, Lucas will now have a lovely scar on his forehead. Guess leading with your head runs in the family.

After a spill at daycare last week, we spent my husband's birthday evening at Toronto East General, watching Treehouse, having snacks and waiting for the sutures.

I had to leave the room while the nurse and my husband held down Lucas, hearing his cries of "All Done, All Done!" After several hours in emergency, he drifted off to sleep on the car ride home. At home, some snuggles and whimpers and he soon settled down in his own bed.

His parents however were far from bed. The trip to the hospital had exhausted us but it was only then we could let down our guard and shed the brave faces we kept up for Lucas. I gasped when I first saw how deep the gash was but knew he would take my lead - if I reacted, he would react. So we stayed strong and calm until we were alone.

Lucas has been a model patient. He lets me treat his stitches and change his dressing daily, has learned a new way to wash his hair and listens when we stop him from jumping and banging about.

And we keep reminding him, chicks dig scars.