When I was first at home with the children back in November 2014 I had a brief rash of blogging. Everything we were doing was new and exciting and I had lots of funny observations to share. The thing with kids though is that they like routine. "What do you want to do today Toby?" "Aeroplane Museum!". "But we went there yesterday". It doesn't matter. They want it simple, they want familiarity. In short, a small world. I've heard it explained like this: if you are new to the world, say 2 years old, then everything is new. It's only the second time you've seen snow (and you've already forgotten the first time) or heard spring birds sing or seen cherry blossom. The world is overwhelming. So really you just don't need too many wildly new experiences on top of all that. Makes for a nice life but not a very exciting blog.
Fast forward to May 2016. Felicity starts school in September, Toby will go to pre-school and I will hopefully have a conventional job, with a pay check and a commute. So now is a good time for getting stuff done, before all that 21st century madness befalls us. Hence, I had my eyes lasered in March, we had our crumbling front steps re-built at the beginning of this month and right now I am convalescing after my second major surgery of the year. I feel like Joan Rivers. Ok, it wasn't major surgery and it hasn't made me look young and beautiful but it has very effectively limited the impact that my genes will have on the future of human evolution. On Friday, a beautiful sunny day, I walked into Dr. Weiss' surgery, feeling ever so slightly dazed by the compulsory Valium I had just taken and ever so slightly constricted by the medical grade "support" I was wearing. 20 minutes later, I walked out, all by myself. During the interim I had been pushed, pulled, sliced, snipped, burnt and glued.
Now, either because it is medically necessary, or because the wily Dr. Weiss has figured out that it entices men to accept his otherwise moderately unattractive proposition (sterilisation), post-op instructions are exceptionally clear: absolutely no lifting or exerting for 7 days. I.e. no helping with the kids, no house work, no dog walking. In fact you have to sit down as much as possible. Of course if I worked in an office I could be chalking up my hours by now, bringing in the bacon. And in fairness to myself, I have done a very little bit of work helping Crystal with some admin tasks. But she has taken the children away to visit Auntie Shannon in Toronto. As a result, I have time to stare into space, watch Giro highlights, pick up a bootleg feed of the FA cup final, watch a Netflix documentary about Mitt Romney, work on the family photo album, re-heat frozen meals and write a blog. All in one weekend. I feel like a fraud though. I thought the deal was going to be no work but in return lots of pain, specifically that unique kind of pain associated with a football in the groin (or more likely these days a toddler's head). The very large and powerful looking pain pills that were prescribed added credence to this belief but in all honesty I haven't touched them. Not even a measly Ibuprofen. Zero pain (so far). In fact the most painful thing was the pre-op DIY shaving. Enough details.
I will leave you with these thoughts. If you live in Ottawa your doctor will refer you to Dr Weiss for vasectomy. He is the vasectomy guy. He has apparently performed over 44,000 vasectomies. 70 a week. Incredible. It may be no surprise then that when you start sheepishly sharing your planned vasectomy with a few close acquaintances the familiar reply is "oh, yes, Dr Weiss. He did mine". Who knew?