Little Ring

9 months: ‘Happiness is a warm puppy’

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Dear Little Ring, Over the last 9 months, we have called you Silly Goose, Gooey Duck, Magoo, Bug-a-Bug, and other loving terms of endearment, but these days, my darling boy, I’m thinking the best nickname for you is Rover. As in, my little pup. Early on I spotted puppy like characteristics in you. Your snoring, snorting and tooting was so akin to a pug it made me giggle every time you did it. I thought those characteristics would subside, or at the very least be kept at bay. But now, my goodness child, people are going to start wondering if we’ve got canine in the family line! Every day, it seems, we are faced with a new doggy like characteristic in you 😉 As soon as you mastered your green army man crawl, it was as though you were the metal and the toilet bowl the magnet. I swear if […]

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The greatest accomplishment of all

Diabetes, Pregnancy in Diabetes, Uncategorized

I’ve climbed mountains, run marathons, traveled through various parts of the world, won writing awards, achieved As in chemistry, managed my disease to near perfection; all pretty awesome achievements. But none of those accomplishments, not one, stand a chance next to the greatest accomplishment of my life. Little Ring is hands down the greatest, most impressive thing I have ever done – EVER! – with and without diabetes 😀 * This is my fourth installment of Diabetes Blog Week with today’s topic being Accomplishments, big or small*

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6 months: ‘The little boy grew. He grew and he grew.’

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Today. You have a smile that melts even the strongest of hearts, you have eyes so alert seemingly nothing passes you by, you have a strong determination to do what your buddies, just a couple months older, are already doing, and a stubbornness – heaven help me – that is so close to matching your mama’s. Today. You tell me, not with words, but with an emphatic spitting out action, that you do NOT like avocado or kiwi, but that you do love (as shown by your ever ready open mouth) steel cut oats mashed with sweet banana, and basil sprinkled chicken mixed with fluorescent orange carrots. Today. Your eyes light up when your papsy reads softly from the Stinky Cheese Man, and your belly gushes uncontrollable giggles when your mama reads the Gitchy Gitchy Goo book. Today. You rock the Jolly Jumper ballet style with perfectly executed pliés and

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3 months: to the moon and back

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Three months. Three months means you’re now showing off your handsome smile, you’re persistently trying to express a hearty laugh that so far translates into a gaping, gummy maw, you’re turning into a rolling escape artist, and are becoming more aware, starting to forgo your hours of daytime sleep in favour of exploring every nook, cranny and light around you with your big blue eyes. Three months means you’re beginning to understand the things you love – when your papsy sings the ’80s to you; when your mama acts out storybooks for you; when your BFF Henri the Hippo speaks to you in her British accent – and those you don’t, like getting your daggers for nails clipped or being restrained in the car seat, the stroller, the terror chair, anything with straps that go clickety click. Three months means my exhaustion is at a state that most days resembles

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