So this is where I’m supposed to reflect on the year that was, to look back and to look forward, and to wax poetic.  Well, I really don’t want to muse on 2008 because for the most part, I didn’t have a very good time.  Maternity leave (with both kids at home 2 weekdays out of 5, and just me and baby for the rest) is not my favourite thing, to say the least.  It makes me sullen, resentful, basically psychotic, and add every other negative adjective you wish to.  It’s almost surprising that we all survived it.

The year took an upswing when I returned to work – when I regained my own identity, when I reclaimed a chunk of the day for me, when Callum transitioned to daycare so successfully, when I stopped fighting with Oliver so much.  I returned, and re-proved my worth in a workplace where I can make a difference in peoples’ lives (at a macro level), and got rewarded with a permanent career.

I think, though, that I’d like 2009 to continue that upswing to a solid plateau; to a place where we are not merely just surviving every day, just eking out an existence where there aren’t too many tantrums and everyone has food in their stomachs.  That’s not enough.  Right now,  the goal is to get to 8pm all intact – and we just seem to run towards it without thinking much (even though Oliver is usually still up then, demanding ‘just a little bit’ more of whatever cartoon suits him that day).  I’d like us to be more present – to enjoy them more, to improve the quality of the time that we do have together.  I’d like to stop throwing together 10 minute crap dinners because small mouths demand it as soon as I walk in the door.  I’d like to turn off the tv a lot more.  I’d like us all to take care of ourselves and each other in a meaningful way.

New Year’s Eve is always going to mean something different for us, though.  It’s predominantly not the end of the calendar year; it’s the start of Oliver’s fourth year.  He turns three today.  I’ll post later with pictures and words of this three year old.  Three years since the midwives commented on how shocked I looked.  Damn, turns out this pregnancy thing often results in a live baby to take care of!  I obviously hadn’t gotten my head around it.  I’m still trying to get there, I think…

Shopping.  Good god, the deals.  The deals that make a recession almost enjoyable.  The stuff.  Must stop. The bills, they will be bad.  And unpayable.

Got some proper winter boots.  The kind of boot that this winter requires (not the short little crappy number I’d been wearing the last couple of years).

Got a couple of pairs of work-appropriate pants (trousers), a cute little jacket, some socks, some tights, a couple of tank top things to wear under stuff, a causal shirt, some cute orangey mary janes, a necklace, a bracelet.

Improved our reading library with a whole bunch more Sandra Boynton books, got Callum a bunch of new clothes and some shoes, got both boys some awesome gorilla pajamas (oops- I was only buying some size 4s for Oliver when the salesperson accidentally managed to include the size 2s I had brought her so she could scan the tag – I love me some accidental free stuff!!).

Mark bought a treadmill (we are pledging to use it and not let it collect dust or become a clothes horse), a new wool suit, and a few other bits and pieces.

Please, lock me in the house.  Don’t let me hit the shops again. (but then I’m on the computer, and I’m desperately in need of some new books and music, and I’d love to hit the ‘check out’ button at Amazon but I just can’t until the bills from this month are dealt with…)

The one I printed up 100 times for greeting cards

Santa came today (tomorrow, it's my parents' house)

Callum opened a couple of presents, but then had to have a nap (CRANKY)

Daddy surprised everyone with major spoilings.

Mummy has a theory he's got some lingering resentment about not growing up with toys with engines. Weirdo.

Whatever you’re doing, wherever – wishing you peace and all good things for the holidays, and for 2009.

First of all, thanks for all your concern re: Oliver.  Friday was a successful clinic visit and his hernia correction surgery is now scheduled for mid February.  I will be really glad to have that over with. 

*

I’m more thinking about Callum, as I finish up Christmas shopping and hours of seemingly never ending present wrapping.  Poor Callum.  The second baby.  The second son.  Your Christmas offerings this year are pathetic – basically, we don’t know what the hell we are meant to buy you.  We already have every single boy-oriented toy in the house.  You often prefer to play with your brother’s toys anyway (haven’t swallowed any small bits yet, well done) so it does seem silly to buy more baby toys.  We only got you a couple.  And clothing – you are only a few pounds behind your brother in weight, so at least you won’t be taking all his hand-me-downs forever, but I don’t really see a point in putting you in lots of new stuff to ruin at daycare when I kept everything of Oliver’s that wasn’t completely stained.  So under the tree for you is a very small pile of toys and clothes.  For your brother – well, we can’t even fit a lot of it actually under the tree because it’s too big.  And numerous.

Callum, please hurry up and grow up so that we can learn who you are and what you like, and hopefully gifts will get easier the more personality and taste that you develop (but wait…don’t grow up…you’re the baby…let’s keep you in those footie pajamas and drinking milk from a bottle and snuggling up to sleep…)

Oh, and I promise to buy you some stuff in the sales.  Okay?

I have nothing coherent to say; I’m just going to throw it all out.  I thought these kind of posts were being reduced by my use of Twitter (oh, I love Twitter) but apparently not…

And the first topic is social networking.  I had my life nicely divided up into (a) Facebook = people I knew in real life and (b) Twitter = people I didn’t know at all, except completely intimatelyby reading their blogs,and a couple who actually read mine.  But now there are people I know in real life on Twitter, and people I don’t know at all who I am friends with on Facebook and I’m all confused about my audience…

I had some really good news last week – I survived a rather gruelling interview process, and obtained the job I’ve had for two years (well, one year was mat leave) on a permanent basis.  What great timing to get job security, as the economy crashes around us.  Job security, benefits, more vacation – good.  Actually 2% less pay (as I was being paid in lieu of benefits) – not good at all, particularly when your outgoings exceed your incomings.  But I have to suck it up.  I just got PERMANENT employment with an excellent employer, that I always wanted to work for, that I could work for forever quite happily. 

I also had a killer stomach bug last week, or food poisoning, not sure what – but it really got me, and it’s still kind of messed up my digestive system.  Things are not quite what they were. If only I could have maintained that lack of appetite…

I really, really need some new warm and comfortable snow boots.  This winter (oh wait, it’s not actually winter yet!!!) has been ridiculous.

I’ve mostly completed Christmas shopping.  In fact, I got most of the toys for the kids throughout the year when stuff was on sale, or when I stumbled upon something I liked.  So the impact on my Visa bill has not been so huge this month.  Most of my family is being given gift cards. Some people hate gift cards, but we’re just that kind of family that prefers to shop for ourselves, I think!  I do also try to get some thoughtful stuff to go along with the cards. I think I usually manage to get people stuff that they will like.  Or they are being really nice about hating it all.

We got a letter last night (hey! thanks for the warning!) that Oliver has an appointment at the surgery clinic tomorrow afternoon.  This is good news, obviously, as we’re finally moving along the path to getting his hernia fixed.  I just would have appreciated some more notice.  He’s excited to go – he thinks the children’s hospital is an adventure, with its cool elevators and paintings of familiar characters.  Hopefully he’s not going to have to visit it again after we get this sorted out.

I realize I’ve missed the past 3 Decembers, living under a rock.  Well, sort of. 

December 2005 – Maternity leave had just started, and I was in the last few weeks of that really scarily unknown quantity of a first pregnancy.  Little did I know A BABY would emerge by the end of the month (I was in complete denial).  Also, I just realized, it’s like exactly 3 years since I got woken up by what I thought was an earthquake but was really a major explosion…

December 2006 – we were living at my parents’ house, trying to find work.  I was consumed by the stress of arranging daycare pick ups and drop offs and getting this job that I really wanted, and trying to find our own home, and everything.  And the damn dog kept pissing on the carpet.  Oliver was turning one, just walking.

December 2007 – Callum was only a few weeks old and I was in that newborn sleepless haze that I can’t even remember and SOMEONE decided we just HAD to spend Christmas in England.  So off we went with a 5 week old and an almost 2 year old for 2 weeks.  Stupid. And too much.

None of these Decembers involved me being at work.  So I’m re-learning that December is a really cool time to be at work.  There are all kinds of baked goods that just keep turning up to share.  There are holiday parties and festive potlucks.  There is something in the air that says it’s the holidays, no one’s really working that hard, slow down. 

There are brass bands playing carols in train stations raising money for the Salvation Army.  There is a choir at work (who knew!) who keeps playing concerts in the lobby.  And there are more baked goods and parties.

It’s nice.

*

Someone has an idea to make things a little nicer on the internet.  I really like this idea (even if it means I’ve got about 90 blogs to comment on in the next few weeks).  I’m going to play.  Dad Gone Mad is proposing Operation: Comment Your Balls/Boobs Off!  Won’t you play too?  Hey you (3) people that come here, stay for a minute and say hi.  Even if you are a member of my family.  And I’ll delete you if you are a troll.  I don’t need comments that badly.  Play nice, people.

It’s happening. I am getting sucked into the season. I now understand why people get a bit weird around the holidays, get caught up in Christmas.  Because of the children.  This is the first year that Oliver gets it.  And he is REALLY into it.

This is the first year we have a real tree.  The first year we have a full size proper tree.  This is the first year we are at home, in a house that we own, for the holidays.

It’s all good.  I think Christmas (and a week later, 3rd birthday) is going to be pretty neat through the eyes of a toddler this year.

(except for the damn desperate requests for Dora Christmas episodes]

Is a heart that works.  Sorry, I’ve dug out some old Juliana Hatfield records lately, and I’ve been listening at work, while typing up various reports and documents.  Mamapop had a link to Juliana’s blog – excuse my train of thought…making me think how different it would be to be a teenager and really into music now as opposed to the late 90′s, when there was barely anything resembling today’s internet, and how close you can get to the artist now.  I had a huge girl crush on Juliana in my late teenage years.  I only saw her play live once.  She is awesome, and I’ve got to catch up on her most recent albums.  And as she writes on her blog, she is struggling.  I hope she can heal what is going on with her.

Her words are ringing in my head right now, because I’ve just come home from a few hours at the children’s hospital with Oliver, sorting out his surgery referral and getting him properly examined.  And I was lucky enough to be there with a kid who doesn’t feel ill, who doesn’t really get that something needs fixing.  Because, if you are at all a softie, and boy am I a softie post-popping out children, just stay away from a children’s hospital. I can’t tell you how many times I got teary eyed today.  Babies with IV drips.  A four or five year old girl on a gurney, screaming into a pillow to muffle her pain.  It’s such a horrible place.

And yet, it’s such a wonderful place.  The staff were incredibly helpful and upbeat.  The whole place is child friendly.  Oliver thought he was on a great adventure.  When we have some money to give, when we are in a spot that we can think about donating money, I really want it to go there.

And we’ll be back soon, putting Oliver under for a few hours to get his hernia fixed, a little surgery, but I think I’m going to be a little more than upset that day.

Having little boys means you learn, of course, all about testicles and penises and these mysterious pieces of flesh that girls will never really understand. We put them both in the bath every night after dinner, and both of their hands immediately reach for their nether regions as soon as they sit in the water. It’s too funny. I am not sure why it makes me laugh. Maybe the ridiculousness of a one year old grabbing his stuff with glee? Like, buddy, you’re going to spend your whole life obsessed with it, I didn’t really expect you to be acting like a teenager yet.

I also didn’t really expect the twig and berries – well, specifically the berries – to be such a focus of our life. We’ve got two boys and two testicle issues.

As I said before, Oliver’s got a hernia. We noticed the small third testicle in the summer, and finally got to the doctors in September or October, I can’t remember when, wondering what it was. I had sort of assumed it was an innocent little cyst or something. An ultrasound confirmed it was part of his bowel slipping down. I did my online research about inguinal hernias, discovering how common they were, wishing we’d got to the doctor sooner, but not being that alarmed because it was going to be a little day surgery and he’d be up and running again (probably, like the dog after she got fixed, up and running around a little too soon, knowing him).

We were referred to the nearest major children’s hospital, told that my doctors’ office received confirmation of the referral, and told to wait for a letter. Every day since I have been checking the mail box for that letter, anticipating it, warning my employer I may need a day or two off for his surgery and recovery.

We’ve been aware that the hernia is getting larger. We’re not just talking a small third testicle anymore, one that used to slip back up again if he changed position. It’s now like he’s got a kiwi fruit between his legs, all the time. And that’s not really size appropriate for a (almost) three year old. It doesn’t slip back up. It looks painful, sometimes purple. On the weekend, he started saying that his tummy hurt. I began to wonder if we should take him to hospital immediately. But we didn’t – he was fine, really.

Yesterday, we tried to investigate where he was in the referral list. You get the feeling with these things that you aren’t supposed to bug them, but we were getting anxious. At first, I didn’t get anywhere. I got a recorded message at the hospital saying that they update the referring physician by fax as to the status of referrals. My GP does not have a fax machine. And seriously, it’s 2008, who the bloody hell is still using fax machines?! A call to my doctor told me they had no evening appointments this week, and the tip from the receptionist was to take him to the ER at the children’s hospital if we were worried.

Mark got farther in his investigation. Late yesterday afternoon, a nurse from the children’s hospital called him back, and despite her best efforts, could not find any record of Oliver in their system. As in, we’re sitting around waiting for a surgery referral that is NEVER going to happen. Needless to say, we’re pretty pissed off but I have to wait until my doctor’s office opens up later today to see what the hell happened. I have no idea where the error has occurred – who ballsed it up?!. We may end up taking him to the ER this weekend if we can’t get him seen soon.

Oh, and Callum? He had his one year check-up last week, MMR and all that fun stuff, and my doctor couldn’t find one of his testicles. She said at some point, they are meant to stop sliding around. I mean, we know they are there, she’s found them before – hell, I saw them this morning rather intimately as I did a quick diaper change as I got him dressed for daycare. But it makes me think that there’s a pretty good chance that he’s going to have to have the same surgery if there’s an opening down below big enough for them to slip around so much. He’s got an ultrasound next week to check things out.

Bollocks.