A week later

 Friends, who also happen to be neighbours, had their third child (and first boy) a little over two weeks ago.  We had the honour of watching the two sisters as their mother was induced at the hospital.  The little one on the chair with Jacob is just over four years old and has a very special place in her heart for dear Jacob.  She told me that if the new baby was a boy, his name would be Jacob.  Alas, twas not meant to be.  However, the failure to name her baby brother after our first-born has not hampered her love for Jacob.  She waits with baited breath for his appearance on the altar (as a server) during mass and sits on her deck watching the road to see him walk home from school.  In this town, where anyone with the suffix 'skie' is likely related to the next 'skie', should I tell her that they are, in fact, distant cousins on their fathers' sides?  Kissing cousins, at least.

 The generous new mother (third time round) gave us these lovely tea roses as a token of her appreciation.  I quickly killed them.  On visiting new mommy's house, I noticed that hers are still alive and blooming weeks later.  Her baby's age can still be measured in days; my baby is almost 2 years old.  I have no excuses.  And, as an aside, those photos in the background, you wonder?  Yes, those are our first family photos in five years; the last ones were taken when Joseph was not yet one.  Oops.  The photo shoot was part of our parish's 100th year anniversary celebrations:  a parish directory.  One had the option to buy any of the photos (for an exorbitant price) or just accept the free family photo that would arrive months later.  Since we had literally pulled into town 20 minutes before the photo shoot (after having driven from Halifax through the night:  no showers, so sleep), the only words we could muster when faced with choosing between poses were, "We'll take them all."  Thankfully, the 'all' that arrived in the mail shortly before Christmas turned out pretty well.

 We have quite a large house.  Nevertheless, the kids still manage to gravitate to wherever I am sitting.  Dave says that I indulge them and should tell them to get off.  I really don't mind; it all comes to an end far too quickly.  And, yes, we do have themed piano music for all aspects of our life.  This one is titled, "Don't assume they'll be there for ever"; either that, or "A Still Life".  (Points to anyone who can figure out the allusion.)

This shot is of random school children at the kids' (and Dave's) school.  (I can post them because this blog is private.)  I just thought it was a nice shot of the last vestiges of winter (we hope!) and an example of the incredible schoolyard in which the kids get to spend their recesses.  (Off to the right, there is a large outdoor skating rink lovingly built and tended by 'poor Dave'.)  Growing up, my schoolyard (which was shared by at least five of my readers) was simply a huge asphalt parking lot with some basketball and tennis courts.  Fortunately, Halifax spends most of its time in cloud cover, otherwise we would have been scorched alive whenever it wasn't 'inclement weather'.  (Points to anyone else whose first experience of the word inclement was on the school announcements at Oxford Street School.)  Lots and lots of points.

(I just looked at the title of this post and realised that I hadn't explained what is a week later.  Simply, a week later we are stomach-flu free.  Everyone went down with the exception of Sarah.  Unfortunately, my fate struck while on our only March Break excursion to the big city.  We were visiting the Museum of Nature when I was overcome by fatigue and nausea.  The kids hoped that this meant another sibling.  I knew otherwise and collapsed outside the frog exhibit, becoming a bit of an exhibit myself.  We quickly changed our supper plans and hightailed it back home where I convalesced with Inspector Barnaby and the murder capital of all small English towns, Midsomer.)