A Week To Forget

So, while I haven't posted in a long, long time (my previously published post is from November 7th, 2022, exactly three and a half years ago today), I have always enjoyed having this blog as a repository of events in my life. With that in mind, I return to catalogue one of the most emotionally exhausting weeks in my life, purely for posterity reasons. Strap in, this is going to be a long one. (Spoiler: All's well that ends well.) 

Last Friday, May 1st, I was home from work a little early. Claire was still running her DnD game for Ada and three of her friends, so I retired briefly to the bedroom to rest and relax before dinner. 

As usually happens once DnD is done, Ada and her fellow party members hang out and play games together. When it's a bit wet or cold out, that means multiplayer video games. Oh, Reader. How I wish this Mayday had been wet and cold. But it wasn't. It was glorious. Beautiful, clear blue skies, temperature in the mid 20°C. Outdoor time. 

Once the house was quiet again, I came out and settled in to watch some YouTube. The open windows meant I could hear all the kids having a great time in our courtyard area, shouting, laughing, racing about the place like kids should. 

After about ten minutes of this, Connor arrived in the front door, declaring loudly that he needed the washroom. Finding it occupied, he came over to see what I was watching. 

"Having fun outside with friends?"

"Yeah. Ada's crying." 

Now, I just want to mention here that my daughter is rather sensitive to friends being "mean". I don't mean bullying or being excessively aggressive. She can get upset if friends aren't playing the game the way she wants to play it, or if her little brother is being...well, a little brother. 

So, you'll forgive me when I tell you I didn't sprint out to the courtyard on hearing this update from Connor, so casually mentioned. I calmly put on my shoes, walked down the steps in front of our unit, and headed for the courtyard. As soon as I rounded the corner, I knew this wasn't just Ada being upset. 

Our neighbour was carrying Ada in his arms down toward me, and Ada wasn't crying. 

She. 

Was. 

Screaming. 

We sat Ada down on the low garden wall, and immediately she was shouting not to move or touch her left leg. She had soil from the garden on her head, all around her left eye, all over her right hand and on her pants legs. I tried to lift the leg of her pants on her left leg, as that was the only area I couldn't immediately inspect, but the slightest touch seemed to cause her pain to spike. 

What had she done to herself? Surely this was the result of some daredevil acrobatic foolishness of youth? Our gardens have plenty of trees to climb. Our housing blocks are three stories high, and we regularly see maintenance people on the tiled roofs. Did she climb out a first floor window and take a fall from there? If one of her friends had presented me with either of these scenarios, I honestly would have believed them. 

At this point, Claire was out of the washroom, and, rather than taking the time to question her here in the garden, we decided to get Ada up into our unit where we could look after her better. Claire and I tried to support her to walk the few meters to the door, resulting in much screaming. Our wonderful neighbour stepped in and once again scooped her up, carrying her up the stairs and all the way to the couch. Ada still screamed, but at least this way was quicker. 

With her leg immobilized as best we could and a cold pack applied, Ada was calm enough to explain what had happened. 

While playing with the DnD crew and a few other friends in our co-op, Ada saw a neighbour's cat out enjoying the sun as well. Her friends were elsewhere in the co-op, and she wanted to tell them. She started to run up through the back garden, but only made it a few meters. She tripped while running on a smooth, flat path and, apparently, landed very badly. 

Now that she was back home, we could clean the soil she had carried with her. Road rash on her forehead, wrist and elbow, but it was her knee that got the worst of it. Any attempt to move it caused Ada to scream. We left her to rest on the couch, moved our cat Shade to a better spot when his attempt to comfort her by lying on her legs was met with unexpected resistance, and let her watch videos on the iPad. 

We did not think we needed to take her to the hospital right away. I mean, how bad could it have been? No trees or first floor windows were involved in the telling of this tale. She slipped and fell on a path. A concrete path, yes. A concrete path that had been installed in the back garden area less than six months ago because the previous path, concrete slabs along a mostly grass walkway, was deemed a tripping hazard, sure. But still, just a trip. 

An hour later, the pain was just getting worse, and Ada was unable to take any painkillers we had on hand.  We made the decision to bring her to BC Women & Children's Hospital, just to get a professional opinion. Claire would drive over while I stayed home with Connor. BC Women & Children's is extremely highly regarded for its quality of care and quality of staff, and we are honestly blessed to live so close to it. 

But, we had to get there first, and that meant getting Ada back down the stairs to street level and the car. There was much weeping and gnashing of teeth, as well as demands to be let go home, because she didn't "want to be a problem for the doctors and nurses" with just her sore knee. But once on the sidewalk, she calmed down. I helped her gingerly into the passenger seat, kissed her and reassured her she was not going to be a problem for anyone, and kissed Claire, wishing her patience and a quiet ER. Then I waved them off and went back to get Connor ready for bed. 

By the time I was struggling to stay awake any longer, we knew that Ada had fractured her tibia and was to see an orthopaedic specialist. They added the possibility of a "small ACL tear" to the injuries. By midnight, they had x-rays to confirm the fracture. The orthopaedic specialist informed us it is a very common fracture in kids, especially during the summer as kids get outside and get more and more active. 

A CT scan was ordered for the morning to further inform what would be needed, and so, Claire and Ada's quick trip to the ER turned into an overnight stay. Ada's leg was immobilized in a big splint and she was given a room for the night. She finally managed to take some painkillers, and that and a mixture of anxiety and stress got her to sleep for a few hours, at least. Claire did not. 

Having crossed off "Get a CT Scan" on Ada's list of Things to Do Before You're 30, mum and daughter were home, weary and sore, just before noon on Saturday. Ada was going to need surgery. The hospital would be in touch on Monday to schedule a visit to the orthopaedic clinic and lay out the battle plan. In the meantime, she would not be able to go to school for the coming week, as she should not put any pressure whatsoever on her leg. Recovery time would be about six weeks. 

Thankfully, I had booked that Saturday off work, as we had gotten tickets to see the Vancouver Pops Symphony Orchestra play music that evening. Instead, I spent the day letting Claire catch up on sleep and caring for Ada, helping her learn how to get around with the help of her shiny new crutches and making sure she was as comfortable as I could manage.

I had work on Tuesday, but with Connor at school, Claire was free to take Ada to the orthopaedic appointment, back at Women's & Children's. At least there were no surprises to be had on this trip, we joked. Which was why when Claire sent me a photo of Ada with a cast on her right arm, covering everything from her palm to just below her shoulder, all I could muster was a resigned sigh. After speaking with the orthopaedic surgeon, he closed with the standard classic "Do you have any other concerns?" Usually this is practically a rhetorical question at that stage of the conversation, but Claire mentioned that Ada had a bit of a sore arm. The surgeon took a look at it, asked her to do a few motions, and immediately sent her for an x-ray, confirming the fracture at her elbow. No surgery needed on this one, but her dominant hand and arm was now out of service for at least three weeks. It also significantly increased the difficulty of using crutches. 

But before all that, the plan for Ada's leg was laid out for us, and that would start the following morning.

Claire dropped Ada and myself outside Women & Children's a little before noon on Wednesday. Probably suffering from not a small amount of PTSD at the sight of the building at this point in the week, she pulled up in the drop-off area, got us a wheelchair, and disappeared again. We headed to General Procedures and were brought straight to her room. Ada was extremely nervous, but every single member of staff was so kind and patient and understanding, and she was never pressured to do anything. We had a visit from our lovely surgeon, who again reassured us that this was as close to routine as a surgery can be, and the wonderful anesthesiologist, who demonstrated how the IV patch that needed to go on her back of Ada's hand would work, as well as several nurses, each making us feel safe and heard. 

Ada got changed into her gown, and they wheeled her bed down the corridor and into the surgery. She was still very stressed, and the anesthesiologist explained all about the Magic Glove, gently massaging Ada's hand and arm, getting Ada to contribute details of how the glove looked and felt and moved, and suddenly, without feeling anything, the IV patch was in her hand. They administered the sleepy medicine to Ada, and I watched as her eyes closed and her body relaxed. A nurse invited me to give her a kiss, and that was the moment I broke and tears started to wet the neckline of my t-shirt. 

I was lead back to the room we had started in to collect our things. I could leave most things in a secure locker near the waiting room, and I was encouraged to take a walk outside and get a coffee or some food, which I did. The procedure, I was told, would take about two hours, with about an hour more for recovery before she would start to come around. 

Almost exactly two hours later I was reading a book in the waiting area, when Ada's orthopaedic surgeon came in and sat beside me and told me that the surgery was a complete success. He showed me how the fracture on the tibia had the ligament attached, which was pulling the bit of bone up and away from the tibia and interfering with movement of the knee. The surgery had gone in, cleaned up the wound, and installed two pins. He showed me some x-rays of the pins in her knee, which looked enormous, and like they were sticking way out into the gap behind the knee plate, but he assured me that the x-rays made them look a lot more alarming than they really are, and they only appeared to be sticking out far beyond the bone because I can't see the cartilage that they are actually embedded flush within. 

A short while later a nurse came in asking for Ada's family, this time to take me to see her. Ada was just coming around and I arrived to find a dazed and confused and high-as-a-kite kid feeling very confused about who was in the room with her, and asking why they all looked like potatoes. When I said "Hi Ada", she looked at me and said "You look like a potato too, dad!" and proceeded to call me Potato for the next several hours. They had given her an ice lolly to enjoy, and she choose blue, because "the white one was boring and the black one was too dark". At one point she asked if I wanted a lick, and when I said "No thanks, you enjoy it. You deserve it" she looked at me seriously, and thrust the lolly towards me saying "What if I want you to have some!!" Hospital grade painkillers are a wonder. 

Pretty soon we were both on the move again, this time, to our final destination. We met the new nurses that would look after Ada in recovery, and her surgeon stopped by two or three times that evening to check in on everything. We also got to meet her physio team that would help with moving about, and give tips on how to proceed now that the crutch was an issue due to our recent broken arm discovery. And we met the pain management team, who were there to ensure that Ada was comfortable, pain free with not too much meds, nor too little. Just the Goldilocks of medication dosage. 

I ordered food before the kitchen closed, and Claire and Connor arrived soon after with snacks. All the beeping from the various machines hooked up to Ada started to make Connor nervous, and he started asking if Ada was going to be okay, and how we can stop the machines from making noise. Claire took him home, Ada and I settled in for the evening. 

We were woken almost every two hours throughout the night with check-ins. "Can you feel this?" "Push your foot against my hand.""Do you have any pain?""Have you peed yet?" But Ada was a trooper, never complaining, always ready to do so she was asked and then drift back to sleep. 

We were both awake very early Thursday morning, so I went out to hunt for some food. I found a coffee place that had waffles and grilled cheese sandwiches, so that was how we started our day. Thursday saw the same teams checking in several times throughout the day, with everyone impressed by Ada's recovery. As the day went on, each of the teams signed off on Ada going home, until she was officially discharged just before 6pm. 

Ada still has about six weeks of recovery time ahead of her. Over that time, the amount she is allowed to move her leg will slowly increase, but, for now, it's stationary, with strict orders not to put any pressure on it. She's hoping around home, using her one good arm to steady herself against anything she can reach on he way to wherever she needs to be (mostly couch, bed or toilet). 

Connor is being a superstar little brother, carrying stuff for her, or racing to bring her what she wants, from stuffy toys to freshly filled bottles of water. 

And Claire and I? We continue to be amazed by our daughter, so strong and capable and smart. Nervous when facing the unknown, sure, but once it's known and understood, nothing will stop her. Not a broken arm. Or a broken leg. Or even, a broken arm and leg at the same time. 

Could you imagine?!? 

Kindergarten Kid

Connor started school this September past. Although still only for years old, his birthday is this calender year, so he falls in the 2022/23 intake. We had the option of holding him back one year, but he's ready. If he'd been our first, I certainly would have spent more time debating the benefits of keeping him home another year. He's so sociable and confident, and he's watched Ada for his entire life. 

He's been doing super, as expected. He's making lots of new friends, the first without his big sis. Up to now, Connor has mostly played with kids that we met when Ada was a baby. Covid means that Connor never really got to go to Family Place as a toddler and develop those friendships. 

So far, his only real difficulty with starting school is learning how snack works. During the first two to three weeks, we had to pack him more and more lunch each day, as he would eat everything he had and get hungry again later. Our boy is a healthy, growing Irish kid, who can eat and eat and eat. At one point, we were packing two full lunch boxes with him. Thankfully, things have settled down a bit over the weeks. 

If that's the worst we have to deal with this year, I'll be a very happy dad.

Fourth Race Around The Track

My youngest turned four today. 

I'm not sure how that happened so fast. All at once, it seems so recent that I was showing Ada her new baby brother lying in the crib in the hospital room, and that it was months and months ago that Connor was learning to use the potty. 

Connor has been an absolute light in our lives for four whole years. 

Of course, some mornings, the light needs to be turned down for an extra hour or three. Like this morning, Connor was up and out on the couch at 5am... Let me say that again. The little monster was awake at FIVE AY EMM!! Sitting on the couch, playing Switch... Claire found him when she gave up trying to stay in bed with the pains in her shoulder. 

I cooked pancakes and crispy bacon for his birthday breakfast, but made the critical error of not having it done before he unwrapped his birthday present. His visiting grandparents got him a set of Hot Wheels race cars, and Claire and I got him a Hot Wheels track set. Once he laid eyes on that, nothing else existed in the entire universe. 

The track set we got him has a launcher system and ramps and my entire morning and early afternoon was to the tune of *slap, shunk shunk, slap, shunk shunk, slap, shunk shunk, "Yay! I did it!" slap, shunk shunk, slap, shunk shunk, slap, shunk shunk...* Mistakes were made. I needed painkillers by noon. 

We picked up big sis at 3pm and went to a nearby activity center for some fun and play, and then went out for dinner together. The visiting grandparents joined us for all this too. Cake was just before bedtime, which could have been another mistake, but exhaustion soon over and the birthday boy was asleep as soon as his tired little head hit the pillow. 

It's hard to imagine that I'm signing Connor up for school this year. Next September, my youngest will be starting kindergarten. What am I going to do then? 

So much freedom...

The Visitors

Once again, my morning started at 6am, but I definitely looked at my watch at 4:45am. 

I got dressed and went out to the living room to find Connor sitting on the couch, in the dark, playing Switch. I might have snapped a little bit too harshly and sent him back to bed. Checking in on the Switch, the battery was only down 4%, so he couldn't have been there long. As soon as the kids I was caring for arrived, I went in and got Connor up to let him play. But not on the Switch. We have a strict "No screens" policy while friends are visiting. 

Once Ada got up, plans got into gear. 

A little before 8am, someone knocked on the door.

You see, dear Reader, Claire’s parents flew in from Ireland last night, arriving after the kids bedtime. They went straight to their accommodation, and crashed hard. However, jet lag is a cruel master, and they were up early, waiting for a text. 

Connor ran to answer it, as he loves to do. He checked the window to see who was there, and shouted "What are you doing here?!?!" The last time they visited was for his second birthday, two years ago. He's only ever known them through Skype.

Ada jumped up from her breakfast and hugged Nana. It was really nice to see that neither kid had even a bit of shyness around their grandparents, even after this isolated time. 

Technology. 

Amazing. 

Eating My Greens

My mum is an incredible baker. She makes, hands down, the best apple tart I’ve ever eaten. Any time I’m out at somewhere for a meal and apple pie is on the desert, I tend to order it, just out of curiosity, but it never even comes close enough to make me sad it isn’t mum’s. And it’s not just apple tart, though that will always be my favourite. Buns, sponge cakes, trifles. She bakes Christmas fruit cake for half the village. She’s even done wedding cakes for cousins and neighbours. 

When it comes to desert, I grew up well fed and spoilt for choice. 

But I also grew up hating broccoli and Brussels sprouts. I thought steak was dry and chewy, made slightly more palatable when fried with onions. We had weekly boiled ham and cabbage until we were old enough to rebel.

As a kid, I hated potatoes. I hated them boiled or mashed. Roasted was acceptable, but they only got made for Christmas or Easter dinner, and I adored mum’s turkey and ham special dinners. 

So, imagine my surprise when I learned that you can cook steak to varying degrees, and medium was delicious, until I had medium-rare, and it was even more delicious! The joy in discovering you can roast broccoli and Brussels sprouts, and that they were flipping delicious like that! Imagine my cognitive dissonance when, as a grown man in his late 30’s (or possibly shortly after…) I cooked sprouts for the first time and ate most of them straight off the oven pan with a spoon, just horsing them into my mouth while I waited for the rest of the meal to finished cooking. 

Potatoes are delicious boiled with a few cloves of garlic, and mashed with a lot of butter!

In the Before Times, I made broccoli for some friends who very clearly accepted them with the polite side-eye glances of people who did not like broccoli at all, then asked for more five minutes later. Roasted, with soy sauce, ginger and garlic. 

I love my mum. I love her deserts and Christmas dinners. 

But I love my roasted veggies, and so does Claire. What about my kids? Not subjected to boiled mush, do they enjoy crunchy veggie flavour bombs?

Not a fucking chance. The little bastards won’t touch them, and scream if they find any on their plate. 

I’d be upset, except, more for me! 

Boy Racer

Connor was keeping up with his big sister and her friends when they went biking, even when he was just running along on his toddler bike last year. He could race along in the middle of them all up the gentle slope of the nearby Greenway. 

Of course, at first, he couldn’t go all the way up the 1.5 kilometres, and we did make the mistake of stopping early for him and breaking off to go get a cookie in Starbucks. That became all he wanted to do, resulting in a few tantrums. 

But pretty soon, and with a bit of bribery, he was doing the full distance, and with less complaining than his big sister some days. He’d zip up the former railway line, and on his way home, he’d lift both legs off the ground and cruise quickly down the hill. He could easily stay ahead of the rest, never took a fall, and always stopped well away from the roads. 

This spring he graduated to a pedal bike. The fact that there was a noticeable hole in his old bike’s tire letting the rubber inner tube poke through was a bit of an encouragement. At first he was just running like he did with his toddler bike, but getting frustrated with bumping his ankles off the pedals. Then he progressed to cruising downhill toward home again as he got more comfortable, testing out the pedals while safely rolling freely. 

And then one day, just like his sister did, he was off! He never used training wheels, going straight from the toddler bike to the pedals. He started cycling at less than three and a half years old! 

Connor loves to cycle. Ada loves it too, but only if friends are going, and often has to be coaxed into joining. Connor will run to get his bike helmet at the merest hint of cycling. He zooms up and back, and can even do the longer rides without issue or complaint. 

Next spring we’ll get him a big bike like his sister. 

And then walking along behind won’t be good enough. 

I’ll have to get a bike too.

The End Of All Now

There's a lot of talk about what everyone is planning to do once this whole pandemic thing is over. Ignoring the fact that the definition of when that could be is hazy at best, there are a lot of differing ideas, even a variety of plans by individual people related to different aspects of their life. 

For me, I can't wait to travel home to Ireland again and see all my family and friends in person. Skype just doesn't cut it. I've been missing them a lot, especially given that my mum and sister were due to travel to us in May to celebrate my birthday. In fact, the last time we had visitors from home was this very week last year when Claire's parents stayed a while to be here for my son's second birthday. 

Without traveling half a world, I want to go to board game conventions and meetups. I want to hang out in a room full of friends, laughing and chatting and hugging and high-fiving. I want to be surrounded by friends I haven't seen in over a year. I'm not even all that interested in playing games, I just want to spend time with them all together in one place. 

Finally, I want to organise a mask burning party. I want to have food, and Rock Band karaoke, and fire pits to sit around after dark. I want a big metal barrel with a wood fire where people can throw in a mask to celebrate the end of it all. 

But, actually, I don't want it to ever entirely end. I don't want everyone to burn or discard all their masks once a vaccine becomes widely available. I want a certain level of mask wearing to become common place if anyone has a cough or snotty nose. I want that to be an ongoing common courtesy to your community in stores, or workplaces, or any other gathering place. 

Never forget how bad it got, or how much better it could be. 

Circles And Art

I love drawing. I’ve been drawing comics since I was a kid. I remember filling up copy books with long stories featuring characters from the shows I was watching wihle at school. As an adult, I’ve drawn short strips featuring animals that were causing a disturbance for our neighbours!

Ada loves drawing too. She started with circles and faces, just eyes and mouths, then hair and ears. But her art has grown more and more detailed over the last year. At five years old, she now draws recognisable characters, and tells stories in her art. Her real life friends appear in her drawings, and she does entire scenes, with buildings and backgrounds, skies and rainbows. Lots of rainbows. 

She’s very detail orientated, seemingly adding new skills to her repertiore on a weekly basis. She draws lips and eyebrows, clouds and petals. Most amusingly, all houses have chimneys and smoke, despite our home actually not having one. 

We post her stuff on the fridge, and it gets added to over time, until eventually there’s too much paper for the magnets to hold. That’s when I love going through them and seeing the clear timeline of progression over the previous months, like peeling back layers at an archaeological dig. 

I love seeing Ada draw, and love to draw with her. I try not to do it too often though, as she tends to just ask me to draw things for her to colour. I rather see her draw herself. 

Just a few months ago Connor was deliberately drawing a page full of circles, his first fridge art. In the last week or so he’s started adding eyes and a mouth. I can’t wait to see the stories he’ll tell too. 

Faith And Begorrah!

My wife Claire and I both were born and raised in Ireland, and as such we learned to speak Irish throughout our time in school. 

Recently, we’ve started speaking more and more Irish around our home, both to each other and to the kids. At first, there was much amusement from the kids, and much struggling from us. Not using it for our entire adult life made our vocabulary more than a little rusty. But we started with the basics and built up. 

Claire was first to install the Goggle Translate app onto her phone, which is a huge help. Although we do text each other as Gaeilge, we’re currently not too concerned about spelling, which for me is a huge relief, as you can tell if you’re a regular reader here. We’ve learned how to add the only accent in Irish, the fada, to our texts, and our phones are starting to learn and suggest a few of the more common phrases we use. 

Our Irish still isn’t wonderful, and our converstaions are peppered with English words and phrase, as well as a lot of pauses and umms and ahhhs. But, we’re getting better. Slowly but surely. 

And, as we say back home, “Is fearr Gaeilge briste, ná Béarla clíste”. GRMA

Distance Grandparenting

One of the things about moving a world away and starting a family so far from our own childhood homes is that we can't share our kids with their grandparents as they grow up and blossom into the incredible people we know they are becoming. I know both Claire's and my parents would love to be able to take Ada and Connor at the weekends. For my parents especially, our kids are their only grandkids.

And likewise, we love sharing our kids with their grandparents, aunts and uncles. 

Thankfully, we live in 2020[1], not 1920, or even 2000. Social media is easy to access, and we can send photos and videos in an instant direct from a device we carry in our pockets. 

But, of course, it's not the same. Regardless, Claire and I try to keep our families in the loop with all the things our kids get up to, from the monumental first steps to the more banal first hair cut. 

Neither of us would think to give up the life we have here in Canada, but we also can't wait to get home to Ireland and spend a lot of time in the company of our families again. Maybe even abandon the kids with them for an evening and have a nice meal in peace. 

Oh, the luxury dream of a meal in a nice restaurant, child-free...

[1]- Let's not think of the pandemic that is stalling any of us from traveling to visit each other right now. 

Gaming Dad

My large board game collection has been largely gathering dust since March. Actually, apart from a complete reorganising in the early days of the first lockdown, it’s been entirely gathering dust. Up to recently, I’ve avoided adding to my collection, knowing that I wouldn’t be getting to play any of them any time soon. As well as saving money, it removed the feeling of the cult of the new, or of “missing out” on new releases. I figured if I was still interested in a game once all this was over, it was worthwhile adding to the shelves. 

But in the last couple months I’ve cracked and added a small number of games to my collection. Not including Kickstarters that I had backed pre-pandemic, all the new games I’ve gotten are ones I can play with my kids, mostly my five year old daughter. We’ve turned the morning into a regular game time, putting the screens away and playing a few games face-to-face. 

I love board games for the social, hanging out with friends aspect, and I really miss that during this extended time of physical distancing. Playing games with Ada helps a lot. Seeing her grow and understand games and rules more and more makes me so happy. I hope she’ll at least tolerate occasionally gaming with me when she’s older. I’d hate to have to guilt trip her into playing Inis again with her nerdy dad.

I’ll still do it. I’ll just feel bad. 

Sweet Pepper Man

My son is weird. 

Growing up in my house we always had an old sweet tin stocked with chocolates and biscuits and treats that we could pretty much dig into at our leisure. It was always there when the cousins and friends came to visit, or when a neighbour popped in for a cup of tea. Because it was always there, my siblings and I never really thought about it. We didn’t just eat chocolate bars all day long, and never went looking for something before meals. 

That said, I do have a wicked sweet tooth. I enjoy my chocolates and biscuits, even the inferior ones we get here in Canada. So does my daughter. Ada will happily devour a chocolate bar, or raid the cookie jar when she’s hungry. 

But her brother can’t even finish the thin shell of chocolate on a Kinder Egg. Connor hsa never shown the least interest in sweet things, beyond a sense of obligation because Ada is getting something. He rarely finishes even the smallest ice cream cones or sweet deserts, much to Ada’s joy. Even a sweet apple will be picked at and then mostly left untouched. 

However, Connor loves a good, crunchy Granny Smith. He’ll happily nibble the heads of broccoli while I chop and prepare them, and he adores fresh, raw, red bell peppers! Today I took him shopping to Safeway and he insisted on picking out a pepper to buy. Fine by me. I had planned omelet for dinner and needed half. He could eat the other half, I thought. 

Connor had other ideas. This evening, while I was preparing dinner, Connor ate the entire bell pepper. I just had to cut out the seeds and white connective tissue and he ate whole thing like a sliced apple. I had to text my friends that live near us to see if any of them could offer a replacement. Thankfully one did, but when I started cutting it up Connor ate half that too!! He then went on to eat his entire dinner on top of that, and a few forkfuls of my omelet besides!

My son is weird. 

Sneezes And Diseases

This winter could be hell. 

For future posterity, we're in the middle of a global pandemic. Canada has been doing better than some, and British Columbia is doing particularly well. 

Claire and I have been very cautious this entire pandemic. We've worn masks and limited contact with people outside our bubble, and our kids wear their masks in the few stores we let them visit. We haven't had friends visit in our home since March. Social distancing has been difficult, but absolutely necessary.

Regardless, it's turning cold outside, and with the changing season comes the runny noses and coughs. That's exactly what Connor got last week, followed by Ada coming down with just a runny nose, much milder than her brothers, and Claire developed a cough. I've remained entirely symptom free. 

Despite being almost 100% certain it's nothing more than a head cold, we still choose to get Claire and the kids tested yesterday. Thanks to the wonderful staff at BC Children's Hospital, we were in and out in a flash, and while Claire was able to take a simple gargal test, the kids had to have a nasal swab. Ada took it like a trooper, but while Connor got very upset, the staff in the hospital were absolutely wonderful, very fast, professional and caring. 

Claire got her results last night, and the kids tests came back this afternoon. All negative. As expected, but still a relief. 

This isn't going to be the last sniffle we get, and so, it isn't going to be the last test we take. But we'll stay vigilant, stay observing all local recommendations, and stay wearing our masks. 

This winter could be hell. 

My Nightly Ritual

There's lots I love about being a dad. I could discuss my kids love of drawing, their imaginative play, their humanity and innate politeness, their joy, happiness and love of life. I could talk about playing board games with them, or watching them both learn how to use the iPad with little or no assistance. I could tell you the numerous times my son has turned to my daughter for help figuring something out and how she's responded by teaching him what she can. And maybe some time I will elaborate on those. 

But for now, I'm going to talk about my favourite time of every day with them. 

Bed time. 

No, not because they go to sleep and I get a few minutes of peace and quiet... Though now that I think of it... Mostly not that.

Our kids go to sleep by themselves. We help brush their teeth, and read them a few story books, then kiss them good night and leave. They like to read books in bed themselves, so we leave their bedside night lights on. 

And those lights are directly connected to my favourite thing. Just before I go to bed, every night without fail, I go into the kids bedroom to turn off the night lights. At that point I get to whisper "Good night. I love you" to each of them, and quietly tuck them in if needed. I get to see the strange and hilarious way they've fallen asleep, sometimes twisted around some odd way, often with a book lying across their face. 

It's the last thing I do every night. I'm tired, I'm sore, maybe I've had a bad day. Maybe the world is horrible. But every night, before I lay down and close my eyes I secretly tell my kids I love them. They never know. Some day I’ll tell them. 

Kids? Amirite??

I’ve wanted to be a dad since before I knew what that meant. I grew up in Ireland, the eldest in a family of four kids. Many of my cousins have four kids in their families. And then I fell in forever love with an amazing person who has three other siblings. Basically, I’d been conditioned to believe that four was the perfect number of kids in a family. 

Then I moved to Vancouver. 

Then I became a dad. 

I mean, a lot of other stuff happened too, but that’s not relevant to this story. 

Honestly, it could have ended there. One was enough. My life was full and complete.

Then I became a dad again. 

And that’s where it does end. For now. As much as I love kids, two of our own is enough. That’s how many we can fit in our car.  Kids are expensive here in Vancouver. And while they don’t exactly steal your free time, they do trade it in for unconditional love. It’s a good trade.

More to come. 

Summer Fun Into Autumn News

I knew I hadn't posted in a while, but looking now, I didn't think it had been as far back as April! In fact, I completely missed my annual 5th of November post, breaking a long, but pointless, streak!

I learned to scuba dive over the summer and absolutely love it! It's an incredible experience, and one I've always been interested in trying, but while my brother was here, we learned together. The training dives were a bit of a challenge, obviously, as you had to demonstrate so terrifying skills, like removing your facemask underwater and putting it back on again, but we got through it. Since then, we did two fun dives in September that were a lot of fun and we got so see some amazing things, like a jellyfish completely failing to sneak up on Stephen during the rest stop, or an octopus home that had its own flipping balcony! Posh or what?!?

Stephen left to return to Ireland at the start of October, and we were all sad to see him go. Ada didn't really understand he was going, and so wasn't upset, but still asks about him regularly. Just today as I was putting her down for a nap, she interupted the story I was reading to ask where he was.

But when he left, Ada got her own bedroom. I expected a transition period, but instead, on the very first night, she brought Bear in, went to bed and went right to sleep. Since then, in the last ten weeks or so, there have only been three nights that she's come into our room, and one was Halloween on account of the fireworks.

It's nice having our own bedroom back to just ourselves again, but it's not going to last. We're expecting another baby, codenamed Podling, in early December, and are pretty much prepared for his arrival. This time we do know the sex in advance, so Claire is delighted to have the complete set, one of each. I'm just excited to have another baby in the house, but I'm sure the first week of sleepless nights will beat that out of me.

I have much to post about, so expect a few in the coming days, if not hours.

 

Not My Baby

My little girl turns one today. In fact, if I've done it right, she turned one at exactly the moment this post went live, at 2:35pm, Pacific Standard Time, or 10:35pm Irish time. Here's a look at her first year.



Edit: I screwed up. I forgot to account for the difference between Canada being on Summer Time and Ireland not, so it should have gone live at 9:35 Irish time, and my blog ids still sete to that as it's home timezone. I must change that. 

Building WALL·E

Last week I took Ada to the mall to get out of the house on a wet March day in Vancouver. We went tot Oakridge, as it's easiest to reach on transit. While there, I stopped into the LEGO Store and discovered to my amazement that they had the LEGO Ideas WALL·E in stock! In fact, they only had one left!

I grabbed it right away.

On Saturday, I took Ada to Family Place as usual in the morning, and when I got home, Claire and I cleaned off the table, set up my Canon G12, and built WALL·E together over about two hours, photographing the entire process in time lapse. Ada joined us after her nap and played with her own LEGO, Duplo, of course, beside us in her chair.

It was a great experience, and one I hope we do again. Sometimes it's easy to get distracted by everything in life, and forget that Claire and I need to stop and enjoy each other's company together, working on a shared project. This is definitely something I'd like to make into a regular occasion, and would recommend to others as well. There really is something deeply satisfying about building LEGO together.

Here's the finished time lapse. I don't like the framing. The camera is pointed too far down, and it's hard to see our hands working on the parts, while also keeping all those bright, distracting bowls in view. Still, it works.

A quick trip to IKEA and I have the perfect display case.

 

It's Been One Year

It has been a long time since I posted anything, and for that I am deeply sorry. I've been very busy, but not to the point where I couldn't have put aside a few minutes now and then since November to post something! But lots has happened, so let's hit the main points.

In December, I left the job I've had and loved since arriving in Vancouver five years ago. I've been working in the daycare industry for all that time, with an incredible team, and an amazing bunch of kids. But in January, Claire got a kick-ass new job opportunity so we made the easy desicion that I'd stay home with Ada and she'd go back to work. The other option was for both of us to work, finding daycare for Ada, while I care for other people's kids.

I do miss work, but Ada and I go on fieldtrip sand visit some of the centres now and then, so that's been great fun and a nice way of staying in touch with great people.

But being a stay-at-home-dad is not easy. I thought being able to handle twelve infants would make handling one a breeze. I was wrong. At work, I have support if I'm tired, or having a hard time with a kid. Now, it's all on me. I have to prepare snacks and lunch, change all the diapers, and don't get toilet or lunch breaks. I have to fit what I can into her nap times, but that's over all too quickly some days.

And I wouldn't give it up for the world. I'm well aware that it's a rare luxury that I get to do this, and I have an unending amount of respect for parents who choose not to or, more often that not, simply can't due to a variety of reasons. I have an incredible wife, with an incredible brain and an amazing ability to continuously better herself, a talent I very much hope is genetic. It is only because of Claire that I get to do this, and I thank her every day for that.

I love spending all this time with my daughter. As well as fieldtrip said into Downtown, we regularly go to a local drop-in facility in the mornings to hang out with other parents and children. We've made loads of new friends through that and I know Ada loves going because as soon as the stroller stops outside the door, she starts shouting and laughing. Plus, it nicely wears her out so that she usually falls asleep on the way home and naps from noon until about one.

It's hard to believe that Ada turns one year old in less than 48 hours. This time last year, Claire and I wear enjoying our last weekend with just the two of us, waiting patiently for the hospital appointment on Monday, March 23rd, 2015, and the c-section surgery that would welcome our Spawnling into the world.

I have something special to share to mark that, but it'll be in another post, coming soon.

Post Script: The moment I opened the page to write this post, my media player threw up One Week, by BareNaked Ladies. It may have influenced the title.

Laugh Until You Cry

Postpartum depression is a very common condition that can effect either parent. It's mildest form is often referred to as "The Baby Blues", and usually sees parents just despairing over little things, or getting emotional over what would be an inconsequential event at any other time. Neither of these states is anything even remotely a matter to joke about, nor are they anything to be ashamed of.

But the pendulum swings both ways, and Claire and I have had our fair share of uncontrollable hilarity in the last three weeks as well. Here are my top three moments, in chronological order, where one or both of us have just lost it.

On Hold

The day we brought Ada home from the hospital was, obviously an important day for both of us. We got to be a family in the privacy of our own home for the first time. Because we were home early in the day, it was also our first chance to Skype family at home and show off our daughter.

I rang mum on Skype so I could video-chat with her and introduce her properly to her granddaughter. Ada was a bit sleepy, but awake long enough to sit in my arms and say hi. Mum couldn't manage to get her video on her end to work, but could see us fine.

About ten minutes into the call mum's house phone rang, and she answered it, explaining to whoever was on the line that she was talking to her son and grandchild. But instead of making an excuse and getting back to us, she continued to have a full half hour conversation, while keeping the Skype call open. That's not an exaggeration. Skype displays the length of the call. It was, literally, a half hour of listening to mum talking to her friend.

Claire had been working on her PC behind me all this time, but not really paying attention to the conversation. At some point, I wandered away into the kitchen, and Claire realised mum was still talking.

"Who's she talking too?"

"Someone on the phone."

And that's when we both broke. Claire started to laugh. I started to laugh. Claire laughed at me laughing. I laughed at her laughing. Then Claire's stitches from the c-section started to really pain her, and she tried to get me to stop laughing, which only made me laugh more, causing her to laugh more. The tears were streaming down our faces before Claire escaped to the bedroom to calm down.

We could barely look at each other for the next hour without falling to fits of giggles.

Not So Sleeping Beauties

Claire had just gotten Ada to sleep. She handed our unconscious little daughter, just a few days old, to me, and Ada didn't stir, resting on my chest, mouth wide open. Claire reached to grab a camera to capture the pose, but when I spotted what she had planned, I tried to mimic the pose myself.

This just lead to Claire and I both bursting out in laughter, Claire once again cursing my name for making her laugh enough to strain her abdomen, me trying my best to not wake up a sleeping Ada, and both of us struggling to see through tear filled eyes.

It took five minutes for both of us to be still long enough at the same time to get one simple photograph, but over an hour to cure our giggles sufficiently to allow us to talk to each other again.

Zapped On The Funny Bone

Ada had been sleeping for a few hours and was in need to feeding and a diaper change. Ada loves her diaper change time, and will lie out on the mat oohing and ahhing and smiling and making faces the whole time. Claire was changing the diaper, but I wandered in to say hi.

In the middle of wiping Ada's bottom, Ada did what comes natural and let out a little fart. Her bottom was still wet, so it came out with a splutter, sounding, in hindsight, like an electric spark, or, worse, an explosive poop! Claire's hand shot away like it had been hit with a cattle prod, and she jumped back.

I doubled over with laughter. I had to grip on to the changing table to stay standing. I was finding it hard to breath. Every time I took a steadying breath, I'd look up and see Ada smiling at me, and crack up again. Claire finished putting on Ada's diaper and getting more and more frustrated at my hysterics. Eventually, she called her parents who were in the living room and they came in, wondering what all the chaos was about. Claire told me to explain myself, which simply caused me to laugh even harder.

At that point, she picked up our daughter and left for the living room. I picked myself up, dried my eyes, and followed her out to start writing this post.

I've been giggling for over two hours now.

Bonus Giggles
Claire was exhausted one day, but Ada needed feeding, so she took her and started nursing while lying out on the couch. Both mom and daughter fell asleep, while Ada was still attached, and, while very asleep, still feeding weakly. Eventually, Ada detached, but stayed asleep against Claire's boob. It was incredibly adorable, cute and funny, but, obviously, no photos to remember the moment.