As of today, Adam has officially finished his residency, and is now a consultant. He is living proof that the process of medical training dose not have to break you, or turn you cynical or bitter. He's a great doctor and I'm proud of him.

However, if he ever tries to lord it over me next year that he's a consultant while I'm still a resident, I will kick him in the nads.

Must remember to tell all my patients (and friends) that the 'morning-after pill' is not the same as an 'abortion pill'.

This is particularly significant for women who have been raped. The last thing a rape victim needs is to be saddled with a 'life or death' decision that can potentially cause a lifetime of pointless guilt.

"Will it hurt?"

He held his son's hand tenderly and looked at me in expectation.

I looked at into the boy's deep brown eyes and saw the tears drying on his long black lashes. His finger was swollen and painful, the nail protruding out at an impossible angle, held in position by clotted blood. I would have to clean his finger, check the nail bed for cuts and then reinsert his nail.

"I will put some local anaesthetic into the finger first. This will be painful, but afterwards, the whole finger will go numb, and there will be no more pain. You will feel me pushing your finger but it will not be painful."

The child nodded, his dark eyes wide. He was seven, but he understood what needed to be done. The muscles in his jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth together in anticipation. He bravely put out his hand towards me and shut his eyes, saying to his father, "I don't want to see the blood."

I began my work. Little Brave whimpered very quietly when I injected the anaesthetic into his hand. A few seconds later and his hands relaxed as the pain ebbed away. I could hear his father breathing stertorously behind me.

As I removed Little Brave's fingernail, I heard Big Brave gasping behind me, "Oh God Oh God Oh God." I turned round in time to see the Big Brave's eyes rolling back into his head and his body beginning to sag to the floor. Quickly but silently, I stuck my shoulder out into his chest to support his weight and motioned to the nurses with my head.

He was a very heavy man to be leaning on my back. Very, very heavy.

As soon as the nurses helped Big Brave to a chair, Little Brave opened his eyes, saw his father's pallid complexion and began to cry and shake in fear, jerking his hand away from my grasp. At the sound of his son's sobbing, Big Brave's eyes flew open and he said loudly, "Don't worry son, everything will be fine." Immediately, Little Brave quietened and lay still.

Then he took another look at my bespattered gloves, blanched visibly and keeled over.

As soon as his head sagged back between his legs, he jerked awake again and yelled, "Don't worry, the doctor's nearly done!". Another glance in my direction and his head lolled to one side as he slumped back in the chair in another faint, only to recover five seconds later to holler, "It's all okay, son, I'm just napping! Everything is alright!".

I finished up the repair of Little Brave's fingernail, whilst Big Brave continued to pass out in the corner, occasionally waking to shout out more encouragements.

After the offending finger was safely swaddled in a mass of bandages and the student nurses had cleared away all the bloodstained swabs, Big Brave recovered from his swoon and took his son's hand.

His smile was bright in his ashen face and he said, "There, there, now that wasn't so bad was it? Say thank you to the doctor lady."

And I said, "Better thank your Daddy. He helped me a lot."

The idea of 15 men and women, meeting each other for the first time for 5 minutes, is intriguing. Well, okay, it is manufactured and it isn't exactly 'our eyes met across the room' but who's to say where and how Cupid chooses to strike?

But then what can you say in 5 minutes? Or what can you surmise of the other person in 5? After all, when I first met Adam I thought he was an utterly lost cause. I would have put a big X next to his name. Bye-bye. Ciao. Sayonara.

Mainly, I'm glad to see June take a gutsy step and try to make it happen for herself. I mean, I have heard her complain about the dire lack of men for the last 3 years since her break-up, but this is the first time she's actually doing something to try to meet eligible men. Woo!

If the roles were reversed, I don't think I would have been as brave.

I hope she meets someone. I can't wait.

About two years ago, one of my fellow house officer (who had recently returned from maternity leave) described to me the feeling of returning home to her baby after a long day a work. "You know how it is, after you take an exam that you know you did really well on, and you're going to class that day knowing that you're going that exam back? And you just have that kind of happy anticipation? That's how I feel every day before I go home." At the time I didn't really understand what she was talking about (well, half of what she was talking about--I understood the exam part of it just fine, because I am a nerd) but now I can see that she was exactly right. That good-grade feeling is what it feels like to come home to Arianna at the end of the day. Actually, it's better, because there's no kicking yourself for choosing B instead of C, and losing those two extra points that brought you down to a 98 from 100.

Coming home to the baby is like getting 100 every time.

Oh god, I am a nerd.

Since Adam's been on vacation spending all kinds of quality time with the baby, we've been able to put this double-working-parent-household juggling act on hold for another week. I feel less guilty about my hours knowing that at least one of us is home, but obviously, this is not going to be the case most of the time. Arianna was obviously asleep the whole time I was home, which at least allowed me to get some sleep, but was kind of sad nonetheless. I missed her.

Adam did well as Mr. Mom. I have to say, they had a great time, and probably accomplished more and did more enriching activities than I was able to accomplish when I was home with Arianna. Part of it is that she is older and smarter now, so she can actually do more in the way of play (my version of "playing" with the baby when she was only two or three weeks old mainly consisted of carrying on long, train-of-thought monologues, in response to which she would either look bored or suspicious) but another part of it is that Adam is a lot braver and stronger than I am. For example, he took the baby to visit my parents via subway, something I have yet to do alone because I am puny and get nervous about carrying that big stroller down all those stairs. And he was able to take the kid to the park almost every day, sometimes with the dog in tow, another something I haven't even considered doing, because The Coop, she is not so good on the leash, so it takes a lot of strength to walk her even without the stroller and diaper bag.

He took the baby to the post office, to the store. He played with the baby on her playmat, on the bouncy chair, in his arms, and even videotaped it for posterity. He fed the baby, washed the baby, napped with the baby. They had a blast. I would totally hire him as our nanny, except I hear that he has some other job that he needs to get back to next week. Dammit.

Adam just bought me these fantastic vintage style leather boots from ASOS - for a mere £25! Bargain! I have a feeling ASOS is going to become one of my favourite online shopping sites.

The boots arrived in the mail just this morning - and they are surprisingly comfortable. I can already see myself wearing these with a flirty suede mini and a white blouse.

There is something so sexy about knee high boots. Maybe because they hide calves and draw the eye higher towards the thigh. Maybe they lengthen the leg and add a swing to the hips.

Or maybe, as Adam says, they just "make you look sooo hot!"

*smiles*

This is probably one of the reasons why I married him in the first place - I love his honesty!