Melissa

Picture post!

Wed, 30 Jul 2008 14:10:47 GMT

This was taken on Agnes's 6 month birthday. Abbey is still pretty nuts about those fuzzy babylegs, even in the summer.

This is Agnes in her raingear, the morning we had to go hunt down my rabbit.

Agnes in the hotel in Montreal.

Abbey, finding a good place for her knickers. She is desperate for a pair of "mermaid knickers". Any leads? I checked the Disney store and they were out, and Liam would divorce me if I went into a Walmart.

Getting ready to go for a swim in the hotel pool.

Agnes, pretty wiped out, in her pretty Prism goodmama.

Agnes's first carousel ride!

Abbey, at the splash pad of the amusement park.

At my aunt's, this was really a picture of the huge barn cat behind her.

Agnes patting my cousin's bunny.

Abbey and my cousin's bunny.

A Toddler's Guide to Daughtering Your Parents, Big Sister Edition

Mon, 31 Mar 2008 18:09:47 GMT

When your mother and father bring home a four hour-old baby and announce that she is going to stay, make sure the baby knows her place by only referring to her as it, as in "I want to hold it". You can also try telling the baby's great-grandmother to "keep it" and see if that works.

When all of a sudden you have to share your mother's breasts, and the baby always seems to get to nurse first, tell your mother, "I need nursies to grow too!". This should weigh heavily on her conscience.

It is useful to fill the baby's things with your toys, as in marking territory. It used to be yours anyway, so technically it still belongs to you. For example, the bassinet should be full of stuffed anumals at all times, as should the swing , the bouncy seat, and the bucket carseat. That way, it is a pain for your mother to put the baby down at any time, and she will remember how sweet and trouble free life was before she brought "it" along.

Whenever someone brings a stuffed animal for "it" make sure it ends up in your possession by exclaiming "thanks! I love it! Boo-ful aminal" to the gift-giver. This makes the gift-giver feel appreciated, and it gets you the toy. After all, one wouldn't want to spoil "it", would one?

Whenever "it" is asleep is a good time to use your outside voice. This wakes up the baby and flusters your mother, again reminding her that life was easy when you were an only child.

Insist that your dollies be cloth-diapered. With the cute diapers, not the prefolds.

When your mother is ready to take you on an outing with the sibling, and she and the baby are ready to go and you are in your snowsuit, announce that you cannot go ANYWHERE before nursing your teddy bear. This buys you time before you have to be in public with "it" and withstand the endless "oh isn't she cute?" remarks. Off with snowsuit, off with boots, nurse the bear, and then reluctantly agree to get dressed again to go on the outing.

When taking baby to endless midwife/doctor's appointment, make sure you are not forgotten. Bringing a stuffed animal is useful Eeyore gets weighed and examined, the nurses think you are the cutest thing ever, and people end up paying as much attention to you as they do to "it". After Eeyore has been weighed and examined and the doctore feels it's time to examine "it", there are several things you can do to bring attention to yourself. Climb the windowsill. Stand up on the chair. Knock down the paper-roller that is attached to the examining table. Your mother, in an attempt to divert your attention, will then allow you to play in her purse. At this time, it is recommended to put her coins in your mouth. This really gets her attention away from "it", and you are at the doctor's anyway so what can go wrong? At the next visit, she will remember to bring dad for you to play with.

When your mother decided to try the decidedly unwise tactic of the "naughty step", enthusiastically go on the step and exclaim "mummy I love the step, I love it". She'll never put you on it again, and she will stop taking advice from a nitwit on television against her better judgement.

When the baby is going through a growth spurt and must be nursed endlessly, ask to watch Lilo and Stitch. Over and Over and Over and Over again. Until she gives up on nursing the little beast just to get anything else going through her head than Lilo and Stitch.

When your mother boasts that "it" sleeps very well during the night and comments on how well rested she is, it is important to not deprive her completely of the newborn experience. Set you inner clock for 3 AM and have a few wails. You do not even have to completely wake up to do this. She will be so happy to feel like the other mothers of newborns and she will have you to thank for this feeling of belonging.

Agnes Veronica Grace

Mon, 14 Jan 2008 22:23:21 GMT

Born at 11:59 AM. 8lbs 1 oz (she's tiny compared to her sister). Beautiful drug-free labour and birth. More soon, with pictures.
We are home and nursing, and all is well with the world.
M

For mamakimi

Mon, 12 Nov 2007 21:19:51 GMT

For mamakimi, babywearing while pregnant with a Ball Baby Mei Tei (straps are regular length) I was about 24 weeks when this was taken.

Things not to tell a pregnant woman...

Mon, 05 Nov 2007 03:38:40 GMT

I am of normal weight, perhaps a bit "voluptuous" due to the lactation induced 36-D's. My non pregnant size is 8, and I haven't gaind an extraordinary amount of weight. I am measuring on time, and even a bit small, though not as samll as I measured with Abbey.

And yet I hear:

"Are you sure there is only one baby?" Ummm. Yes, I am positive. I hear that one all the time.

"I don't know much about childbirth, but.... you're not going to make it to January". Ok dude, yes, I am. I'll freaking hold the kid in until February if I can just to piss you off.

"You're getting bigger every week!" Well, I certainly hope I'm not getting any smaller.

"Are you going to get any bigger?" I would expect to, yes. I have eleven weeks to go.

"Should you still be at work?" Where would you like me to be? I'm not an invalid, I am pregnant.

"That's going to be one hell of a big baby". Yes, I sure hope so. The kid better be at least a nine pounder to make it worth my while.

Seriously people, I appreciate the candor, but really, I don't need to be constantly bombarded with comments on how big I am. I am big, I am pregnant, I am carrying the baby in my abdomen, it's normal. I feeel good, I think I look pretty decent, and I have great maternity jeans, so there.

/end rant.

A Toddler's Guide to Daughtering your Parents, restaurant etiquette and laundry tips

Mon, 29 Oct 2007 18:14:12 GMT

1. When your dear mother decides to take you to the local Italian eatery with dad because she's tired of cooking and doing dishes, don't say anything when she makes you wear a gorgeous ivory and french blue blouse for which she paid a fortune. Then make sure that you thoroughly enjoy your spaghetti. This will teach her to:
a) Never forget to pack a bib.
b) Stop spending so much cash on baby clothes. Seriously, a toddler does not need a fancy ivory and french blue blouse.

2. When your mother convinces your father to take you along on their anniversary dinner because you are, after all, a product of their union, make sure she regrets this upsetting change in your weekday routine by refusing to eat your chicken strips AND EVEN your French fries and insisting on going on tours of the restaurant. That way, your mother and father will eat in shifts, resulting in less romance, and none of that embarrassing kissy-kissy stuff. This is particulary effective when the restaurant in question is one where your mother used to work, and when the server is a friend of your mother's.

3. When going out to dinner with your parents, grandparents, and aunt and uncle in a swanky place, be on your best behavior. However, if they decide to order multiple courses during the meal, make your impatience known by becoming irritable. Then, show them that they are easily replaceable when the very cute waiter decides to pick you up and show you around the restaurant by charming the pants off of him. After you've gotten the love from the cute waiter, refer to him as "Uncle Marcus" and extend your arms to him to be picked up every time he comes to the table. This will teach everyone, especially your real uncle, to pay quality attention to you.

4. When your parents take you to the same breakfast place every Sunday, demand that the staff acknowledge that you are a regular. Balloons must accompany every meal, and "colours" must be promptly delivered. Refer to the high chair as "the Abbey-chair", substituting your own name of course. If your mother tries to be creative and orders something different than your usual scrambled eggs, immediately throw the offending food on the ground. This will teach them the art of consistency.

5. When your mother orders pancakes, make sure to eat them. If she orderd you your own pancakes, refuse to touch them and somehow dispose of them. See above.

6. When your mother and caregiver have tried to teach you the art of cleanliness and tidyness, show them that the lesson is well-learned when in restaurants. For example, if a server breaks a glass and takes her time to clean it up, tell your mother "Mummy PICK IT UP! BROKEN ON FLOOR PICK IT UP!!!" And if a plate is dropped, inform the server that she made "A BIG MESS!". This is also appropriate if the customers near you are slobs. Point to them and exclaim "Lady made BIG MESS mummy! Look mummy, right there, mess!" Make sure everyone, especially the offending parties hear you. Good manners are for everyone.

7. At home, accept to eat only when the animal channel is on and you are sitting in the toddler rocker. Refuse to eat anything in your high chair. In fact, this is more effective if you throw a major fit whenever your parents try to seat you in the high chair. Teach them that high chairs are for playing **play-doh only. As everyone knows, parents are as easily trained as Pavlov's dog, so eat well and in great quantity when they relent and let you eat in the toddler chair, watching the "ewephants and mookeys" on the animal channel.

** play doh is easily hidden in your mother's shoes, and causes quite a reaction.

A Toddler's Guide to Daughtering One's Parents

Wed, 26 Sep 2007 04:30:00 GMT

Notes form Abigael:

1. It is important on road trips to occasionally remind your parents that they are cruel for tying you up in a contraption and expect you to sit there quietly for hours, regardless of how exciting the destination might be. A good way to remind them of this is by requesting something special, something delicious, something you would normally get as a treat. Ice Cream. This is especially successful when ice cream is out of season. It is quite entertaining to watch one's mother try Harvey's, Tim Horton's, Burger King, etc for ice cream when you know they have none. It is even more exciting to watch your mother go into a gas station off the highway, put her principles aside, and buy you the only brand available for miles, a brand that she has dutifully boycotted for years: Nestle. Of course, as we all know, Nestle is crap and one would rather die than eat it, so the only thing left to do is to take off the wrapper, throw it on the floor along with the ice cream, and yell "Bar-Gage".

2. Should your mother have the patience and kindness to nurse you into todlerhood and well into her pregnancy, it is important to remind her of the newborn days when your latch was horrible and recreate those days for her, should she get the silly notion that siblings are a good idea, and to get her to stop looking at infants as though they were the best thing on earth.

3. If your mother refuses on principle to Ferberize you, it is crucial to test her resolve by whining every time she leaves your bedroom to the point where she feels compelled to sit on the foor by the bedroom door until you fall asleep. This can take a long time, so feel free to ask for countless things: water, teddy bears, extra blankets, etc. After you have exhausted these necessities (and exhausted your mother), ask for hugs.

4. When in the midst of potty learning, remember that you can pretend to need the potty at bdtime. This delays bedtime for up to an hour. If she figures out you are only pretending to use the potty, scrunch up your face and say "push poop out!" and you're good for another half hour.

5. If you are a lean child and a picky eater, it is easy to get your mother to do all kinds of silly antics to get you to eat. Like sing Old Macdonald until she runs out of animals she knows. And let you play with play-doh while eating dinner.

6. When in the car, strapped in aforementioned contraption, pick a song that drives your parents particularly batty. Raffi works well. Do not, under any circumstance, let them play the whole CD. Instead, ask for the same song over and over and stay consistent. They love it. Consistency is the key to good daughtering.

7. If your mother is a fan of babywearing and likes to put you in a back carry, untie the straps of her halter top in public. That way, everybody gets to see where your lunch comes from.

Friends, Friends, Friends...

Mon, 04 Sep 2006 23:50:28 GMT

I'm following dainty_monster's lead and making my LJ friends only. A woman in one of the communities I belong to has been stealing a bunch of baby photos and passing them off as her own, concocting strange and twisted stories about the children in the photos.. She also snarked Abigael's name in one of her non-LJ blogs. Since my journal is mostly about my life with my family and daughter and my theatre work, I think it is best if I am more careful about who reads my entries. Anyway, I am going to keep everyone already on my friends list, but to those of you who read this blog who are not LJ members, I apologize.
Please comment if you want me to add you. I would be honored to do so.
Melissa

something new

Thu, 29 Jun 2006 03:38:53 GMT

I am seriously considering undergoing doula training in October. I have been thinking about this since Abbey's birth, and thought it would be something I would do after I am done having children. But I think I am going to do it now. I very much want to be around birth; and I want to be an advocate for women and their choices. I had a long conversation with my midwife a few hours after Abigael's birth about how difficult labour and childbirth must be for teenage mums. She told me about a client of hers who had no relatives or friends to support her during labour, and nobody to call with the good news after the birth. Throughout my pregnancy and after Abigael came to me, I was very preoccupied with how difficult pregnancy could be for a woman/girl who didn't have the support of a partner or family member.
I really want to do this. There is no way I can take the four year course to become a midwife; it would mean moving and quitting my job, and that's just not possible. But this I could do. I'd love to volunteer at the local agency which helps teens with staying in school and finding housing during their pregnancies and after the births of their babies. I can feel the pull. I am excited, even though it's still just in the planning stages.

Here's looking at you, kid

Thu, 22 Jun 2006 15:01:38 GMT

Wed, 14 Jun 2006 03:17:11 GMT

Sun, 04 Jun 2006 03:49:23 GMT

The midwifery picnic was rained out today; we ended up apartment hunting for K who is moving back to Ottawa in a few weeks. Our quest led us to a great flat owned by a chain-smoking Eastern European man and his wife who has just had a tracheotomy and can barely breathe. They were an astonishing and very odd couple.
Liam took me to see Cirque du Soleil yesterday as a Mother's Day treat. The show was breathtaking, spectacular, wondrous. Liam's aunt, grandma, and cousins babysat Abigael while we were gone. We were away for a total of three hour and fifteen minutes, by far the longest she has ever been away from me. I was slightly traumatised by how quiet the car was, and during the show I kept worrying that the noise would spook her, only to remember that she wasn't with us. She had a marvelous time; she got to go play with the neighborhood kids at the park, she chased Aunt Liz's cat, and napped on grandma's bed. I was very relieved that it all went so well. Liam and I needed those three hours together to watch a show and run like kids in the pouring rain back to the car.
My swimmimg friend S has to undergo chemo and radiation for uterine cancer. Her daughter A is just one month older than Abigael. Her prognosis is good, but I can't imagine the fear and worry she must be going through right now. She won't be able to come to the pool anymore because of her treatment but has the good fortune of having lots of family around to help care for little A. She asked if she can bring her over to play with Abigael, and I think that would be delightful. I hope she does. Another friend, L, is just finishing up her treatments for breast cancer. She is 39 and has two children, 7 and 2. The spooky part is that she worked in a building where several young people have developed cancers in recent years, all of which worked on the same side of the building. All of them are in remission, and hopefully L will be too.

the bub and I

Thu, 01 Jun 2006 02:13:09 GMT

Liam's aunt sent me this picture from a few weeks ago, back when it was still cool out, and before the braces went on...

Some Enchanted Evening

Wed, 31 May 2006 02:50:38 GMT

I found Liam's lost wedding band this morning, had two wonderful conversations with some nice mom friends, and took some time to play with the bunnies tonight (they have been neglected since wee Abbey came along).
Liam grilled filet mignon for dinner, I just got out of a marvelous cool shower, and Abigael has been asleep for three hours without a peep. I might just cut myself a slice of strawberry pie and eat it before bed. On a day like this, ain't life sweet?

Ah the CBC

Sat, 27 May 2006 03:18:39 GMT

Some jerks beat and robbed a 91 year old man not too far from here a few weeks ago. He was tied up for a good long while until he was found, and he kept himself together by singing the old hymn "How Great Thou Art". I cried when I watched that story on the news that night, and I cried when I read this update:

Students restore elderly beating victim's cash and faith

Last Updated Fri, 26 May 2006 23:00:24 EDT

CBC News

A 91-year-old Ottawa man brutally beaten in a home invasion three weeks ago was overcome with emotion Friday as an elementary school student handed him a $500 cheque.

Harold Hyde describes the incident in which he was beaten and robbed. (CBC)

Grade 4 student Marcus Sadaka said he wanted to help Harold Hyde when he heard the story of how attackers broke into the man's home, robbed him of hundreds of dollars, beat him, then tied him to a pole in the basement.

"He's a very nice man, and he deserves his money back, and I felt very, very sorry for him," said Sadaka.

The Adrienne Clarkson School student asked for permission to gather one quarter from every student to pay Hyde for the money stolen in the attack.

At an assembly at the Nepean school, Sadaka presented Harold Hyde with the cheque. Hyde slowly stood up, clutching his walker, then said a few words as he fought back tears.

"I want to thank everyone who took part in helping me. Thank you very much," he said.

Hyde said he felt so fortunate for having survived the attack that he plans to donate all the money to a charity.

The schoolchildren have sent Hyde more than a hundred colourful cards wishing him well since he was attacked on May 5. Hyde said he is still sore, but recovering well from the beating that left bruises all over his body.

Though he has returned home, he admits that he lives in fear that his attackers will return.

Bless'em.

the kitchen floor

Wed, 24 May 2006 21:36:30 GMT

16 Candles

Fri, 19 May 2006 00:55:24 GMT

I had to conduct an interview for potential members of the co-op this evening. It was the first time for Rose, my co-interviewer. So the applicants arrived, a lovely couple with their 18 month old son. Abigael really likes other babies, especially boys. I don't know how she can tell that they are boys, but she knows. She reacts totally differently to boys; she gets really hyper and excited. She laughs and bounces and wants to play. The interview begins. Abigael pukes. Barfs. Throws up on the credit check, on the application, on the landlord check, on my shirt, on my pants, the floor, the table, the chair. I can smell it still even though we had a bath. A quarter of me is mortified, another quarter worried, and the rest just thinks it's pretty freakin' funny. She has never vomited before, not even spit up. She had to make her puking debut in front of an audience of strangers.
Mama's girl.
Anyway, the lack of fever and the subsequent cheery, happy mood lead me to think that the incident was caused by the stimulation of baby Lucas's visit, and the fact that she was sitting on my lap when she wanted to be down to play. Perhaps I was holding her too tightly around the tummy... We'll see how the night goes and we might pop in to see Dr. D tomorrow if we need to.

I had my braces put in on Monday. My teeth, gums, and the insides of my cheeks are incredibly sore. I can't believe I am going though this for one tooth. I am considering stealing some of Abbey's herbal teething remedy. So I got my driver's license and braces within a few weeks of each other.... I feel like I am sixteen again. Abigael was babysat for the very first time during my orthodontic ordeal. She was upset when I left, and I thought about her the whole time. I was gone for 2.5 hours. She was fast asleep on Kate's bed when I went to pick her up. All was well.

Must go do laundry. Prefolds clean up barf really well.

Hot off the Press

Sat, 13 May 2006 10:43:24 GMT

Abigael's first newspaper appearance (other than her birth announcement).

Fri, 12 May 2006 15:02:14 GMT

Sorry people----- I was trying to upload photos of the babe and be discreet by using l-j cuts, and they didn't work. If I clogged up your friends lists for a while this morning, I apologize.

And since we are on the subject of photos, I went for my little shoot with the Citizen photographer. He was on digital, and from what I saw the caption in the paper should run: "New Mother Slays Archbishop with Massive Killer Breasts". Seriously, not the most flattering angles, and the sling was pushing them down a bit, making them look even more ginormous than they already are. I guess on the bright side, it's an advert. for slings and nursing....
M

Kicking Bishop Butt....

Wed, 10 May 2006 14:36:04 GMT

feels so good!
I wrote a letter to the editor last night and it will run in the Saturday paper along with a picture of Abigael and I at the church.

Here's how it goes:
I was pleased to see The Ottawa Citizen's coverage of Marcel Gervais's misguided intentions to close the doors of St Brigid's Church. I have been a parishioner of St Brigid's since my move to Ottawa, and I serve as a minister of the Word several times a month. I was married there in 2004, and my baby daughter was baptized there on Christmas Day 2005. It is my great hope to see her receive her first communion there, and perhaps to attend her wedding there someday.

The Most Reverend Marcel Gervais mentions in his letter to our congregation that the demographics of Lowertown are changing. Indeed they are, but not in the way it appears to him. Dalhousie street is becoming a hub of quirky shops, condos are rising up and bringing more people to the area, and the market is bustling. St Brigid's opens its doors to a growing number of new parishioners who year after year come to feel the Spirit which abides within its walls. Everyone is welcome there; the congregation is diverse, embracing, and effervescent.

The paint is peeling in our church. There are shingles on the ground. Father Arana's rectory is no palace. The parishioners were given hope by the Archbishop that their beloved church could stay open if they could only raise enough money. And they did. They met their targets, as stated by the Archbishop in June 2005. The people of St Brigid's are not rich. But they gave what they could to keep their place of worship in operation. They were misled. Some repairs were made, murals restored using the parishioner's money, and now the church, whose value has surely increased due to these recent improvements will be sold. Telling people that their money will keep their church open, and then selling that church is an abuse of the parishioners' generosity and goodwill. This is enough to cause a crisis in one's faith. We are asked to amalgamate with Notre-Dame Basilica. Marcel Gervais will not see me there. I would rather be among my strong, tight-knit community of faith in a place where the paint is peeling than in any of the gilded churches in our city.

Through this hardship, Father Arana, a small and unaffected man, has been a model of Grace and Wisdom. He has been a steadfast shepherd to our community, leading us in prayer with simplicity and faith. I pray that the gifts of the Holy Spirit which are so abundant in Father Arana and were bestowed upon the children of our congregation who shared the celebration of their Confirmation with the Archbishop's letter of intent to close our parish this past weekend (in a packed, vibrant church) will come to enlighten His Excellency and change his mind regarding our spiritual home.

Mélissa McCarthy

This is after Liam had me revise it not to include the words "fraudulent, highway robbery".

Fri, 05 May 2006 17:36:28 GMT

I know I need to get a grip because:
Last night I washed my hair and forgot to brush it out.
I have been wearing the same 3 shirts for about a week, alternating between each one.
I cried while putting away the baby swing that I used maybe 5 times. I also cried putting away Abbey's newborn clothes.
I envision going back to work, and something terrible happens at every visualization.
I have been dreaming about my teeth falling out.
I told Liam I needed to go "night night".
I put my retainer in the fridge.

Speaking of teeth, I will be getting my top teeth braced up next week to bring my adult eye tooth (my baby eye tooth fell out while I was pregnant) into place. It will cost me 5200$, but we have double insurance through Liam's and my work, so it shouldn't cost that much out of pocket. There's something about getting my driver's license AND braces that brings me back to 1994. I am just a decade and a bit late. Abigael's top teeth are coming in as well, so we can be miserable together.

15 minutes of fame

Thu, 04 May 2006 03:23:50 GMT

I am totally weirded out right now...One of my former classmates and colleagues (waited tables at a restaurant together while in uni., and he dated a very good friend) is on a canadian reality show called "From the Ground Up" with Debbie Travis which airs on Global. He could win 250 000, which might help in paying back S. the rent $$$ he owes her from running out on her just a few days after they had signed the lease to a super expensive apartment
He was one of those charmers you can't trust. I'm curious enough to tune in, but probably won't care to watch for more than a few minutes. I am sure S is glued to the tv on Sunday nights, which won't help her get over him I'm sure.

There's something about seeing a priest cry...

Mon, 01 May 2006 15:34:25 GMT

I was at church last night, and a decision was announced (totally from left field) that our parish is going to be closing down. Olwen (the little old chuch lady) was going up and down the aisles ranting "the bishop has a heart of stone, the bishop has a heart of stone". Basically, the bishop wants us to amalgamate with the basilica down the street as the basilica is in the red, and I suppose he thinks he can make some cash from us. I will never set foot in that gilded, gaudy place. I like a church where the paint peels off the wall and there's a party in the basement.

This decision was made by 25 or so men in robes who have seldom been inside our church, built in 1890 by poor Irish immigrants who wanted somewhere to pray. The parish has always served the poor, opening the Shepherds of Good Hope in the basement to feed the homeless. I have caught Father Pedro slipping an envelope with money to the little lady who can't afford groceries. I have seen her try to pay him back and I have heard him refuse. I have seen the soles of his shoes held together by thumbtacks because he hasn't had new ones in a very long time. His Filipino parishioners tell me that he is a bit of a celebrity in his country, where he used to preach liberation theology.

As some of you know, I don't always agree with some of the principles of the church, I belong to Women for the Ordination of Women, believe in birth control, etc. But I love its ministries to the poor, its loving teachings, the traditions, and I believe change can come from within. I love walking into St Bridid's and feel the Spirit abiding there. I love being part of the community there. I was married there. Abigael was baptized there on Christmas day. I hoped to baptize all of my children there. We are going to fight like hellcats to change the bishop's mind.

And happy mayday to all you workers out there!

Sun, 30 Apr 2006 22:27:04 GMT

http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/summer_in_maine/detail?.dir=a6a3&.dnm=1455re2.jpg&.src=ph
she has a drool rash on her mouth from teething.

is there a full moon?

Sat, 29 Apr 2006 13:37:29 GMT

Last night Abigael slept from 8:00 PM to 6:00 AM without waking once. She nursed, and came back to bed with me until 8:00. I kid you not.
It could be that since she came with me to the National Day of Mourning, she napped very little yesterday. But whatever.

In other news, Liam noticed that I am covered in bruises. I have no idea how they got there, which concerns me but only a little. I am the mother of a wiggler. What DOES concern me however is the weird mole that I have under my left breast. I am one of those pasty, freckled types so I am naturally moly, but this one has changed in shape I think. I must go flash my boob to Dr Dillon this week. Last time he referred me to the weirdest derm ever... his office was covered with images of Jesus bleeding on the Cross, pictures of the Sacred Heart, pro-life pamphlets everywhere. I am a church going type, but I thought all of this was creepy and inappropriate for a dermatologist's office. Then he scoffed me out of his office with a "you're too young for skin cancer". This reminds me of the OB-GYN I had in Windsor; he was a tiny, tiny Asian man with a huge, raspy porn-star voice. I must remind my sister to not become creepy when she receives her MD (she got into McGill! Yay!)