Cupcake love

Statistics was the only math class I passed on the first try

I did always like statistics. It was the only math class I could understand, because it was based on a story. "There are 100 college kids having unprotected sex, and 33 get their period..." this was the story I was told by the specialist, to illustrate where I fit--statistically. Statistically speaking, I'm normal. That's what the specialist informed me during my consultation with him today. He even broke it down on a little chart for me, as if I couldn't follow his horny college students having unprotected sex story. I suppose the referral from my OB/GYN was really just a way to have me talk to a specialist to confirm and validate what she's been telling me all along--it's just bad luck. So an hour later, the bottom line is just to do what any normal person would do when trying to get pregnant and "just pee on a stick" (using his exact phrase) if I think I might be pregnant. Actually, the only concern he did find was the ectopic, and the higher risk of it happening again. But the ectopic is not considered a miscarriage, because it could have been a healthy pregnancy had it implanted in the right place. I mentioned that there was no heartbeat, which he responded that blood flow isn't the best in a fallopian tube. So there you have it. I'm not "special" enough to see a specialist. I'm just one of the statistics. Which is great news. But really, I was hoping to walk out of there with a magic pill that would ensure I'd have a healthy, full term baby as a result of my next pregnancy.

Keep your hands to yourself

We went to the zoo the other day and met up with some friends. Sophia decided that the turtle housing was her domain, and didn't want Jack anywhere near the window. Jack was really only concerned with the red lights in the exhibit, and didn't understand or care that Sophia was guarding "her" territory. Saying "no" to Jack wasn't working, so Sophia decided to step it up a notch and began to hit. I told Sophia that hitting was not OK and that she needed to keep her hands to herself. She thought about it for a second, put her hands to her side and started to headbutt Jack. I had to take a quick picture before the reprimand started again, this time trying to come up with a way to include no hitting, headbutting or touching--just to cover all bases. I wasn't expecting to be outsmarted by my almost 22 month old.

The block...The headbutt...

When did that happen?

I don't see my "baby" anymore. It seems like overnight, Sophia turned into a little girl. Doesn't it?