My angel

My angel W.T. ... taking the plunge into the corporate world at the tender age of 21 months...




Wow... being a parent is just plain hard. And this is one of those evenings when I'm just not convinced that I'm cut out for it. K is at school - Algebra on Monday and Wednesday evenings until the quarter ends the third week of November. So it's me and W.T. tonight. He's at a very high-maintenance age (which I'm sure will continue until he's grown and out of the house or I'm dead, whichever happens to come first), and he's got a bit of a cold, so he's at the high-end of the fussy scale right now and it's setting my teeth on edge.

It all came as a surprise, you know... this parenting thing. Oh, we know where babies come from and all that (something about a big white bird with a long neck), but what we didn't know 2 1/2 years ago was that the medicine my doctor put me on to help me get my blood sugar under control can make you ultra-fertile. So eight months after 1) a miscarriage and 2) finding out about the type II diabetes and 3) working my a** off (literally) to lose some weight, I was back in the doctor's office saying, "Um, well, I've taken 4 EPT tests and I think I might be pregnant..." Starting a family was the furthest thing from our minds at that point in time (did I mention that my father was also living with us at the time because he'd had a stroke about 2 years before?), but there we were.

I am a firm believer that everything happens for a reason. I'm afraid that if I didn't think this way I'd lose all hope and faith in humanity and the world, and then it would just be all over for me. Maybe I'm naive. But the days of looking at him, usually while he's throwing a tantrum of some sort, and thinking "I just can't do this" are getting fewer and farther between. So I think we'll be okay.