it's only five years: things not to say to a resident's wife

I get this a lot.

You probably know by now that residency is hard for me (and I'm not the one who is a resident.)

So maybe people don't know what to say when I complain (again) about residency.

And they try to cheer me up (?) by suggesting that it is only five years long. Only five years and then the hard part will be done. Only five years and then the living is easy.

Residency is only five years long.

But I just can't get behind the "yeah, your life sucks, but it's only five years of it". Five months, maybe. One year, maybe.

mom to two: 10 months in

I know. I suck at consistent blogging. Sorry about that. I swear I am trying to improve.

That being said, my baby will turn ten months old in 4 days. The last time I blogged about parenting, she was three months old. It's been a bit of a whirlwind.

And every time I think I have it all under control, the baby hits a new milestone and needs more supervision. Or I register the toddler for another activity. Or we undergo a week of sleepless nights. And all those half-written blog posts remain in limbo, waiting for their story to be told.

the big three-oh

Today is my birthday.

Normally I’m very excited for it. I love parties, I love presents, I love celebrating, I love not having to cook.

But to be honest, I’ve been having a hard time just knowing this day was approaching.

30.

Thirty.

The big three-oh.

I’ve been teasing my hubby about being thirty for a year now. But now that I’m here myself, I’m finding it really isn’t that funny.

i'm no feminist, but...

Maybe some of you read the article posted a while ago in the Huffington Post titled "How to Talk to Little Girls". I keep thinking about it.

As a mama to two girls who are growing up fast, I think a lot about how I'm raising them. How I speak to them. What I'm modelling through my own behaviours. How to encourage them to be confident, intelligent and compassionate little girls (and eventually women).

a tale of two births: part II

read part I first!
and be forewarned: part II is even more detailed and lengthy than part I (probably because it's fresher in my mind)!

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Our little bug also arrived late.

9 days late.

Again I drove myself crazy by expecting to go into labour early. Or at least on time. Surely I deserved to deliver around my due date the second time around, right?