We are largely recovering. Nick and Nora are ensconced in the warm loving arms of the nursery this morning, even if Nick's diapers are still slightly suspect (but we're out of contagion zone although we've been through over 100 diapers) so I think it's safe to say that we're going to be ok. Nick proved that although he may be a sweet, happy boy he's one of those "speak softly and carry a big stick" types, as while he may be a little boy he's got the makings of a man - he made life a living hell when he was ill. Nora just whimpered. Nick, he was like most men and made it clear that life might be ending, people, it just might be!

And now, a chopping board post, since I am not quite myself today.

*****chop chop chop chop*****

Today is Angus' middle brother's birthday. He's the nice but sanctimonious one, the one I call the Reverend, because any excuse to get on his high horse is provocation enough to be treated to his opinion, which is of course the right opinion. He's usually banging on about the environment but other rants include and are not limited to immigration, health care, technology, politics, you name it.

Last night he rang Angus to grill him on our choice of child care. The Reverend's wife, a woman who is studying childcare in college and thus knows more than you, me, you and me, you and Supernanny, all of us combined, about children and she had some opinions on our choice of child care and so elected her husband to be the messenger. Apparently they feel that the babies going to nursery is not acceptable.

Cue instant boiling rage from Helen. Bad enough that Angus' Mum was giving me grief about nursery ("Helen, don't you think they're too young to go to nursery?" "Well, Angus' Mum, unless we win the lottery there's not a whole lot of choice here." "I'm not kidding, Helen." "Really? Because I'm not either.") I couldn't face it from them as well. Angus difused the situation.

This was good.

I honestly really like the Reverend but he gets on my last fucking nerve with his preaching, and so I picked out his birthday present from all of us with this in mind. He had recently pissed me off, see. I found a way to settle the score.

And I silently punch the air for the thoughtful and loving gift we gave his brother for his birthday.

*****chop chop chop chop*****

We can sometimes get the babies to laugh, which is brilliant. There's no sound like it in the world, ever. I would love to record it and share it here but as soon as we get the video camera out the babies fold their hands and solemnly declare that they would like to present their dramatic interpretation of The Last Song of the Swan.

*****chop chop chop chop*****

Work posts coming. Building posts coming. Annual physical post coming. Non-baby posts coming. But today's kind of an anniversary, the last of their kind until the babies' birthday in October.

One year ago today we went into a room and saw on an ultrasound screen two dark blobs with little flickering lights.

Those flickering lights were two identical heartbeats. Those flickering lights kicked off a fierce row between Angus and I.

Those flickering lights became our children.

It's the last of the big anniversary dates of my last IVF cycle that kicked off the creation of the babies. I won't bore you by marking them anymore, but suffice to say that I still can't believe that two tiny flickering lights turned into two blazing lights called my son and daughter.

*****chop chop chop chop*****

And now, I'm feeling pukey again and will go lie down.

-H.

PS-many thanks to another anonymous benefactor - we received these three fantastic books. It feels like Christmas with the Amazon gifts, thank you so much!

PPS-many thanks to Lily, who on Saturday was kind enough to leave my 20,000th comment.

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