Monthly Archives: January 2010

Dr. Devilboy.

This morning round 432,230,087 of pin the emby on the uterus began with the first of many blood lettings and another date with dildocam (I feel like we’re seeing so much of each other I’ve almost achieved ‘mistress’ status) but this time it was different. Dad of devilboy had an early start and I wasn’t able to organise anyone to look after a small devil at 6.30am.

I’ve studiously avoided taking Devilboy to Casa Conception as it can be difficult for some of the other childless Science Projectettes, who are at varying stages of trying to concieve, and are in varying states of distress over their personal infertility issues. They certainly don’t need a tot rubbed in their faces in that particular environment.

But on this occasion I had no choice. And it was ok, really it was (and yes, that is sarcasm). For the normally well behaved Devilboy turned it on. Initially he was suitably subdued and cuted the ladies into submission with his sweet smile. That was until he was sudenly gripped with enthusiasm for the ubiquitous Doctors waiting room Natonial Georgraphics and started screaming “more, more polar bear mummy!”

Becoming distressed when said mummy couldn’t make more polar bears magically appear on the following page, or in the October issue of Marie Claire, he instead decided to tip a cup of water over said mummy before laughing and running away at break neck speed, flustered mummy in hot pursuit. At this point I’m quite sure most of the remaining Science Prohjectettes started cancelling their cycles as they realised what they were potentially getting themselves in to and that their longed for babies would eventually become toddlers.

A tad embarrased by the scenette, I was fretting as to how he’d react when his mummy started getting poked and prodded by strangers… but my brave boy made me proud and perturbed all at once.

During the ultrasound he sweetly held and patted my hand saying “mummy sick.” I explained I was fine and we just need to see some pictures of mummys inside on the screen. “Mummy TV” was his excited response before telling us that it was his turn and that he too wanted a dildocam inserted so we could see “Me TV. Pwease?” Eww.

Druring the blood tests he watched intently as “mummy’s bud” came out. The nurse told him it was nice and red and he looked at her like she was a moron before informing her sternly “no, mummy bud yellow” and announced, as he had during the previous test, that it was “Me turn” only this time he wanted to perform teh prcesure as opposed to be the recipient. Affronted by the resounding no from the nurse, he put his hands out demanding “me do it” crossly… before poiltely adding “Pwease?”

So polite for such a twisted child.

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Santa Box & the Reinbots

The festive season has come and gone and after many years of hardened bah humbugging this year it seemed so shiny and sparkly – thanks to a certain wide-eyed and wonderful Devilboy.

Coming as I do from a family who, sadly, never properly celebrated the festive season or that ever appreciated its magic left me with no strong point of reference and I worried if I would even be capable of making this one special for a not quite two year old. Was he too young to understand? Would he even give a shit? I mean really, if I wrapped an empty box in pretty paper it probably would excite him as much as if I filled it with expensive toys.

But I needn’t have worried – Devilboy adored Christmas, as did his suddenly festive and Santafied mummy. Of course, being 21 months old, his understanding of all the festive carryings on was minimal – but he did know it was colourful and sparkly and lots of fun and often seemed to know more about it than I did.

In fact, until Devilboy told me, I never knew that “Reinbots” (we are unable to convince him they’re ordinarily called reindeer) leave a trail of sparkles wherever they go, eat fruit and drink tea in china cups or that Santa’s favourite snack is fried rice and beer. Nor did I know that “Santa Box” (as he has been dubbed by Devilboy) gets in through our front window until Devilboy, completely unperturbed by the idea of a strange bearded man breaking into our house, showed me his exact point of entry.

The very verbose Devilboy has even learned a christmas tune or two that he insists on singing publicly at deafening volumes, which would be just fine if it weren’t for the fact that his favourite is “Ginger Balls”, his somewhat creative take on the more traditional Jingle Bells.

Sadly as the tinsel, trees and baubles have disappeared Devilboy is suffering a severe case of post holiday trauma as he frets about where his beloved Santa Box and those crazy Rainbots have gone.

The seasons festivities also saw Devilboy attending many parties including his first in Darlinghurst which was a huge success as he immediately cosied up to the barman (who had an endless supply of ice cubes to keep DB happy). We are wondering though if we should be concerned that it took him less than half an hour after arriving in said suburb to end up shirtless, throwing himself about to girly dance music and with an ice habit!

While Santa spoiled a very happy Devilboy rotten, he only brought Dad of Devilboy and I one teensy tiny gift this year. Helping make ours a ‘white’ christmas, we raided the blizzard like conditions of the frozen embryo room at IVF. Snowflake is the latest frozen blastocyst to move out of the esky and into the pink room. Lovely little Ice-T, who came just a few days after Christmas, isn’t like the other Blastcysts who were primo hatching blasts. The runt of the litter, our latest little blast was still all squashed from the thawing process when we met and though we warmed straight away to its squishy little face – it’s hard to get too excited after the last few efforts. I’m certifiable with the stress of waiting to find out if this one wants to stay… but just a few more days and we’ll find out if Santa thought we were good enough this year to make our little Ice-T a keeper!

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