37calvertrd


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Dress for dinner

At approximately 6pm, every evening, if you happened to be in the vicinity of our home, you may be privy to the following battle conversation:

Me: Thomas! Can you pleased wash your hands and get dressed for dinner*

*we are not a family from the Victorian era that requires its members to put on their finest clothes before coming to the table. We simply ask that you wear clothes. Or at best, underpants.

Thomas: (insert whiny voice here) Why do I have to put my clothes on? Can I just eat like this (pointing to a 100% naked body)?

Me: no. You HAVE to wear clothes to eat dinner. I feel like this is a conversation that we can’t keep having. You just have to, ok?

Thomas: but whyyyyyyyyyyyy?

Me: clothes. Stat.

Stomping away and then returning with a telltale giggle heard all the way down the hall…..

Thomas: I did it mum. I put underpants on.

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All work and no play

Oh man! It`s been ages! Blech! May, and now June, have literally just been a blur to me. I`ve got the new job blues and it has seriously stunted my creativity and zapped just about every ounce of energy I have to do anything other than WORK, MAKE A MEAL, EAT A MEAL, TRY NOT TO BE A MISERABLE MOTHER, SLEEP and REPEAT.

Moving from the comfort of the amazing cardiology unit where I really learned to be a nurse, to the chaos and at times (many, many, many times) complete frustration that is the Emergency Room, has been waaaaaaaayyyyyyyy more difficult than I`d anticipated. While I try to keep in mind that it is the state of the health care system as a whole that allows these things to happen, it is increasingly difficult,  to not say aloud “I`m sorry sir, I`m having a hard time understanding the actual EMERGENCY that brought you into the EMERGENCY room, where we are meant to be dealing with EMERGENCIES. While I`m sure it stung a little to have cut your thumb while opening a can of tuna, a 911 call and an ambulance ride to the ER where I will give you a band-aid and a tetanus shot, maaayyyy be a little bit of overkill, no?” I mean, I get it, there are not enough family doctors, wait times to see the few that there are can be ridiculously long, blah, blah, blah. I can`t even begin to talk about the state of mental health care without feeling a giant knot form in my stomach. UGH.

Anyway, as I walk home and try to shed my anxiety headache and stomach ache after each shift, I remind myself that my job is not my life and that my family and friends are the only thing that matters and usually, by the time I get home I feel a little better. Except for the day that I walked all the way home fretting about my shift, only to get home and remember that I had driven to work that day. Bah!

But, it’s not all work around here, and here are some pics from the last few weeks to prove it (if you click on the image I`ve included captions about just what you`re looking at)


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Are you thinking what I’m thinking

Friday night, as I lay beside Thomas after bedtime stories and songs, taking in a few quiet moments before he fell asleep (or should have been falling asleep, rather) and thinking about how excited i was to just fall into my own bed after a long shift, I hear a little voice pipe up to say…..

“Hey mum? Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I doubt that very much, but what are you thinking?”

“Couple more songs n stuff?”

I caved, only because he’s never used “are you thinking what I’m thinking” before and it charmed me. Later, I was telling the story to Andrew who said that Thomas had been asking him that all day.

FYI, we never seem to be thinking what he’s thinking.

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The doctor is in

This afternoon we were playing doctor and Thomas had a go at listening to my heart with my old stethoscope. As he listened he sort of squealed in a high pitch “Beeee boooo, bim bim, bomp boo bimp bimper”. “Oh dear,” I said. “Is that what my heart sounds like?”. “It is,” was the glum reply. “Do you think I`ll make it doctor?” I asked. “Nope. Not tonight,” he replied before taking off the stethoscope and walking out of the room.

He has, like, zero bedside manner.

I suggest he sticks to working with animals, as below….

Hmmmm. Let`s see. Who do I have to see today?

Hmmmm. Let`s see. Who do I have to see today?

Let`s get a quick x-ray Lou-seal.

Let`s get a quick x-ray Lou-seal.

Hope Lou-seal`s heart sounds better than mine did

Hope Lou-seal`s heart sounds better than mine did

And finally, we`ll get a weight on you Lou-seal.

And finally, we`ll get a weight on you Lou-seal.

Dr. Doolittle. Hard at work.


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What’s in a name?

We’re in a real superhero phase here. Our suitcase has become Mission Headquarters, complete with a mission control panel that is basically a paper with a bunch of buttons drawn on it and the various words I was asked to write on them. Find Bad Guys. Get Bad Guys. Look for Crows. Measure Something. Eat a Little Tomato (to fuel up, obviously). And of course, Mission Complete. On joint missions, I have to stand in the closet until I’m told to come out and get my instructions (which are essentially the same as the ones listed with the addition of Make Me a Snack).

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Today’s superhero name? Unicorn H Popcornmaker. It’s unclear what the H is for.


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They didn`t cover this in What to Expect: The Toddler Years

We`ve had a sick little guy on our hands for the past couple of days which is sad, but also kind of nice because he is really cuddly and mopey when he`s sick which can be quite heartwarming (for about 48 hours). This morning he woke up early and crawled into bed and I decided we would YouTube some old cartoons that I would have watched when I was a kid and not feeling well, so…….CareBears it was!

Having never seen CareBears I anticipated the usual “Who`s that guy? What`s that girl`s name? That guy is a mean guy (obviously referring to No-Heart and Beastly)” etc. What I didn`t see coming was this………

“Mom? Do CareBears have vaginas?”

Hmmmm. How to handle? How to handle?

Me: I don`t think so. They`re imaginary so I don`t think they pee and poo. (nailed it!)

Thomas: Then why do those baby ones have diapers?

Ohhhhh. Well played Thomas, well played.

Me: Who wants to watch Curious George?!?!?!?

Another successful parenting moment by yours truly. Maybe I will write a how-to book, thanks for asking.

bed time