Shane is away. He's away and i'm really enjoying it. We had and easy dinner, a frolic in the woods and the requisite giant slumber party in my room.

As i was laying there waiting for parker to go to sleep i was struck by the little moments. Tristan was reading her archie comic busting a gut. That girl has the strangest sense of humour. I frequently hear her cracking up in her bedroom to books. In a way i think it's her letting us know that she's up there awake. A little jubilant "hi!" from the eight year old girl.

Toby and parker were both lost in their own little dream worlds. Parker was singing something along the lines of:

twinkle twinkle little truck
abcdefg
all us travellers in the night
itsy bitsy dumptruck
now i know my abc's
thank you for your tiny light.

Toby was squeeking away in a high pitched whisper yell about "cougars in the box...(something, something)" followed by a raucous "in the hole little mouse...(something, something.)"

Eliza was asleep. She was suffering from post-birthday stress all day. Twirling her new gold chain with a heart pendant non-chalantly in front of everyone. Hoping for it to be noticed. She fell asleep before she could finish "Toby and parker are keeping me....(up)"

How wonderful. How lucky i feel during those moments and not just because i know that they are almost asleep.

Shane and i have both been overwhelmingly busy with our own things. We are getting along fine, really well actually. We are just not connecting in that way, the way that husbands and wives sometimes do. Some of them even get to do it in bed i hear. For us long term family bedders the pizzazz of the bathroom counter or rug burn inducing playroom floor has long lost it's sparkle and a good old bed in the missionary position sounds almost kinky.

*ahem*

What i meant to say was that we have no time together. Yet we sit side by side on the sofa at night laptops in, well, our laps and television on. Frankly it's boring and i welcome this little change to my routine. Except that all my favourite shows (sopranos, big love and huff) are not on this week because of memorial day. Stupid memorial day.

Five years ago today eliza was born via emergency c-section five weeks early.

I woke up in the morning and felt a little funky, nothing specific. Just not right. I waited a few hours and decided to go to the hospital because when i had toby i didn't really think i was in labour and went to the hospital to be told i was 7 cm dilated.

At the hospital they did a twenty minute strip that showed no contractions and the nurse went off to look for a doctor to discharge me. While she was gone i watched the heart rate go up to 220 BPM. When the doctor came back twenty minutes later i asked her about it and panic set in. There was calls over the PA for any OB and anesthesiologist available. Eliza was born seven minutes later.

I had a hidden placental abruption because her head was already engaged in the birth canal. She spent seven days in the NICU. Since then it's been wonderful and beautiful. I am thankful every day for being paranoid and going to the hospital when i wasn't sure. They said she would have been dead by that night had i not gone in.

Happy birthday Eliza, i love you with everything i've got.

Part of the dry through the night success with toby has been midnight visits to the toilet, escorted by shane or myself (whoever stays up latest.)

Toby is so cute as he stumbles robot-like to the bathroom with a gentle hand guiding his way through the dark and silent night. He is really still asleep. So much so that we have to help him guide his penis in the right direction otherwise he just thrusts his hips forward and lets it fly all over the bathroom. Everywhere but in the toilet. I think being the cleaner of the bathroom makes me a little bit better at making the target and penis match up. Obviously though the extra attention to the details of target practice wake him up just a bit more.

The other night when i marched him stiff legged into the bathroom he was feeling chatty. Toby, being who he is, was oblivious to the fact that it was the middle of the night and the house was asleep so he spoke in his normal voice which is deep and loud and scratchy; "did anyone get drunk tonight?"

At first i had no idea what he was talking about and just said "no, nobody got drunk."

After i put him back in bed i remembered that he had spent the entire 2 1/2 hours at the baseball game collecting beer bottles and bottle caps and someone had joked that he would be drunk from the fumes. I didn't think he had even heard it.

I am always amazed at what they hear and what they choose to retain. The things that become memories for them.

When we were at a party after our fair the other night the kids were having log rolling contests on the lawn while the adults cheered them on from the balcony. I was overcome with the smell of freshly smooshed grass and beer on the breaths of all the men. It brought back my own flood of memories of nights with my parents enjoying themselves with friends while we played kick the can out on the grass.

The repetition of these memories amazes me. That i am doing the same things that my parents once did. That i am experiencing the same joys and happiness of friends and family.

I've been waiting to say anything because of that whole jinxing thing, but, toby has been dry through the night for two weeks.

I'm so proud of him on this success. In two weeks he will turn 7 years old. He can have friends over for sleepovers now. He has enough challenges on his plate, he really needed this achievement to boost his confidence.

Right before i hit the mattress with a very loud thud i promised my lemon poppyseed cake recipe to a lovely reader.

I spent all day stirring the hugest pots of chili, four of them actually. I had no idea they even made pots that big. After a few minutes of stirring my arm would seize up in pain from mixing 50 pounds of beans and meat (veggie too), but i pressed on into the wee hours of this evening while the men put up tents and stages. It really is quite the spectacle, this fair the school puts on. But, as it comes together i am so happy to be a part of it all.

Awesome! weekend to everybody especially you memorial day'ers.

Lemon Poppyseed Cake courtesy of my *mom

2 tsps. lemon zest
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
3 cups flour
3/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup unsalted butter
2 cups sugar
3 eggs + 2 egg yolks
1 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup poppyseeds

Combine lemon rind and lemon extract and poppyseeds and set aside.

Sift flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt and set aside,
Cream butter and sugar, add eggs and extra yolks. Beat well and then
alternate flour mixture with buttermilk and beat well.
Mix in poppyseed combination.
Pour into greased bundt pan, shake pan to level out mixture. Bake at
350 for 60 minutes. Cool before inverting.

Make a **butter icing using lemon juice in place of liquid. Cut cake in
half and use as filling and icing.
Wonderful.

*it's still icksnay on the momnay around here.

**I used four eggs instead of the 3 eggs plus two yolks and it was fabulous. Let me know if you can't find a butter icing recipe. Mine was something like 4 cups icing sugar, 1/2 cup butter, juice of 1 lemon.**

Apparently we are ALL grumpy and, mostly, it's our spouses making us that way.

I couldn't sleep last night because i kept thinking of things to add to my grumpy list. Funny thing though, once i wrote out my list, had a couple glasses of Yellow Tail, watched the Lost finale and giggled with shane a little about the first comments i got from other grumpies, i felt pretty much all better.

That's the magic of this whole blogging thing for me. I write down what i'm feeling - happy, sad, mad, depressed, lonely or whatever - i write about it and get some kind and wonderful feedback and my problem feels much less like a problem and more like a shared experience.

The girls have been busily helping me bake and bake some more for the school fair this weekend, Children and Apple Pie.

Eight pies are sitting on my counter in preparation for baking. Also, rice krispie squares, sugar cookies for decorating and chocolate chip shortbread squares. Unfortunately, all these recipes only used two eggs and with my chickens producing ten or twelve eggs a day i am officially up to my eyeballs in green eggs. Want some?

I am preparing for birthday party number two in a series of three. I set expectations way too high when i went all out on a harry potter party for tristan last year. She invited her whole class. When they arrived i sorted them (with a sorting hat) into houses, then they decorated wands, guessed how many bertie botts every flavour beans were in a jar, had a find the snitch treasure hunt, broomstick races and a few others. Teams earned points for their houses. It was totally fun and i was proud of my efforts, but this year i am way too tired and busy to come up with anything half as good, so i am putting the pressure on for a little sleepover action. We'll see.

Toby, who's third in the series, wants a party at the playground at school and a thousand army men to play with. Sounds good to me.

I am grumpy. I am so grumpy. So! I thought i'd share because everyone loves grumpiness right? These are the things that are making me very grumpy:

1. eliza keeping me up for four hours last night crying and wimpering that she was scared. After the first couple of hours and having her right beside me i stopped being sympathetic.

2. grumpy kids today.

3. my husband being the coach of baseball and patronizing me and the other women on the team.

4. stinky chicken poo.

5. stinky dogs with fleas and no money for Program or Advantage until next week.

6. the 80 hour 7 day work week that shane is maintaining.

7. facial hair - what's that about? it's age isn't it. stupid age.

8. cooking - breakfast, lunch, dinner infinity - daunting.

9. laundry - this is the rest of my life.

10. a long to do list that i just cant get through.

11. no more greys anatomy or survivor.

12. stupid periods. eight years without was good.

13. shane and i forgot our 11th wedding anniversary last saturday and i made the fatal error of telling him it didn't matter. I will never get my spa day.

Tell me what makes you grumpy. Really. I want to know.

I actually used my widget calculator and i have been a parent for 3270 days!

You would think i'd learned a thing or two in that time. Not really.

Today eliza, parker and i were driving along and eliza was expressing her new voice of choice - loud, aggressive and angry. I was getting upset with her asking her why she was being so nasty lately. And rude! She was being rude. She just kept yelling "NO!" at me. I was trying to get her to work on her 'K' sound as in "it's c-at, not ch-at." She was hating me and i was hating all these damn years of speech therapy. So, i was mean and rude and yelled at her.

Three minutes later she vomited all over herself, the carseat and the car.

Right. That explains the grumpiness. Poor girl.

Extreme grumpiness, almost always, has a reason behind it. Lesson learned. Car stinky.

Okay, i admit it, i'm a mess. I'm socially inept, cold sore ridden and full of self-doubt and anxiety. I'm lovely. I'm a blogging loser. My heart starts to skip beats and my palms sweat when i go to leave a comment. I try hard. Really i do. Always reading, admiring, nodding my head in agreement. Yet, i can't say (or type) a word without sounding like something i am completely not. This whole social system is awkward and i feel like a dopey nerd stumbling through it.

Today when we were in victoria tristan asked me "why does everybody look different here?"

I gazed at my four children. Unkempt, hair full of tangles, cinnamon toast remains on their cheeks, slow mall walkers. Everybody else was keeping steady paces, looking clean and groomed and with places to be and no time to waste.

"Because it is different here."

That was the best i could do.

And it is different here too. On the internet side-road of blogging. People are different here. They are nice and caring and warm and inviting. Clever, charming and smart. I feel like the country folk, if the country is thirty minutes from the city.

Despite my springtime happiness i have been experiencing regular anxiety attacks. I feel my chest weighing down on me and feel like i am dying. I think through everything i have to lose. It's unbearable.

This thinking about goals and careers and blogher.

And this morning i pulled out an old, old bra that i haven't worn since 1997 and it fit me again. Bye bye breastfeeding boobs. I won't miss your massive size.

So many changes. So many birthdays. So many bloggy friends to meet.

Today is victoria day. A day of lazing around and may showers and, obviously, a trip to victoria to see a kid flick.

Eliza's birthday is next week and we had her party this weekend. We invited five families over for a barbecue and wrestle in the sandbox. That would be twelve adults and sixteen kids. Brave me.

Eliza had a wonderful time. Being the centre of attention is difficult for her, but she got the hang of it and by the time everybody left at 10pm she was leading the pack in a moonlight fairie hunt.

I've been thinking lately, as i tend to do, about myself. About how hard it was in the winter and how everything changed for me when the sun started to shine. I've been wondering why. I know there's SAD and the fact that i am isolated and alone. An experience intensified by monsoon like rain which lasts for months.

But there has got to be more to it than that. Why was this winter so much harder? Is next winter going to be the same?

I think a huge part of my winter of depression was weaning parker. Something that i didn't pay enough attention to. The sudden change in hormones and relationship to my children. Wondering why i even did it in the first place. Frustrated by my own discomfort with nursing past two years. I have been in the trenches of babyhood and breastfeeding for close to nine years.

Except now.

And that is the second part. I am becoming a different person and i am not sure who that person is. I am no longer pregnant or a mother to babies. I am a mother to little people that are becoming increasingly independent of me.

Who am i?

When i started having babies i was young. I married young. I wasn't really a woman, an independent woman, yet. I had the beginnings of a career and a vague notion that i could do very well in life.

Then i did very well having babies. And here i am now. How do i do this?

Well, well well... the good things just keep rolling in for me! I feel so lucky. And so happy!

I'm going to say that for awhile because it feels so good.

Anyway, yesterday in the mail i got a lovely note and a yummy chocolate bar that looked a little something like this:

from the lovely and talented chair whom i adore and wish could be my little sister.

But wait! The fun, it just doesn't end! I got this most awesomest of awesome packages from Dana (oh please let me have gotten that right, i have a few dana's [lucky me again!] commenting). Now dana knows her chocolate. To wit:

and! even chocolate mint perfume! who knew?

Yay you! Yay me!

Thank-you.

Jen, who happens to be one of my other favourite moms with four kids tagged me last week with this meme. I've been wanting to do it for so long and am, just barely, finding the time now.

Ten simple pleasures are:

• My new iPod. I love it so much. I had no idea how much i missed having music in my life until it came back again. Paige has helped too by giving me so much new music to love.
• That i don't have to worry about this for five months.
  
  
• Instead i can worry about how dirty my feet are.
  
  
• baby chicks. this one is just a few hours old.
  
  
• columbines
  
  
• afternoons at the lake.
  
• summer clothes on cute kids.
  
• lemon poppyseed cake - homemade of course.
  
  
• having pesto back in my life and protecting my family when shane is away.
  
  
• primary baking at school.
  
  

I could go on and on. I am so happy to be happy. Life is good and precious and wonderful and fun.

Consider yourself tagged my favourite moms.

So, i've been playing softball on a team with other parents from the kids school. I could never have imagined how much fun it would be. After one game i was feeling competitive and sparky, spunky.

I was an athlete in a previous life. Competitive diving for ten plus years. I gave all that up when the all-consuming hormonal rush of late adolescence took hold of me. Then i dressed in black, drank black coffee and wrote poetry until the hormones of marriage and children took over.

But now! Now i am back. I love the games. The fun. And, of course, the beer.

Really though i want to win. Every game i want to win. And we lose. We are parents. Out of shape, sloppy parents playing against a bunch of young people who can drink copious amounts during the game and still beat us. Tonight we did better. Lost by one point.

Many of us have been injured. Injuries of old folks. Pulled groins. Sore backs from leaping for bad throws (lots of those.)

When i hit the ball and raced to first base i pulled something or other in my thigh. I hobbled through the rest of the game because "there's no crying in baseball!" My husbands the coach. That's what he yelled to me when i was beaned with a ball in the thigh last week.

Now i am laying down with ice on my thigh, hoping it will be all better for the game on friday.

Shane's away. We have just returned from the busiest day ever and what a wonderful day it has been. Sunny and warm. Afternoons at the lake and barbecues with good friends. I feel like i couldn't ask for anything else.

Except, perhaps, mousetraps that are not full of little black eyed creatures when i come home and, maybe, shane to have told me where he left the other mouse traps before he left.

My face is full of cold sores. Again. I felt them coming when school business got complicated and shane told me he had to work out of town on mothers day. The biggest cold sores ever. Two.

In desperation i asked my friend for help and she gave me some grapefruit oil to put on. I did. And man my mouth couldn't have burned harder if i had poured acid straight on my face. Now i have two bloody ulcers that seem to be healing, and my god they should for all the pain i am feeling right now.

I didn't like teenage girls when i was a teenage girl.

i wore a lot of black.

I love greys anatomy.

And now i must watch. Tomorrow will be worse in terms of the business of kids.

Friends are good. And women rock.

Out.

Happy Mothers Day!

I look at that photo and really, as cliche as it sounds, i can't believe i did that. All those little people came from my struggles, joy, pain and food. I ate food and made that. That really freaks me out.

I love my children so much. I love every inch of them. Pouring over their bodies after they have baths. Tending to splinters, cuts, eczema, cradle cap, ingrown nails and tangly hair. I devour every inch of them. Every single beautiful little bit. Especially little feet and bear-like chubby paws. Oh how i love them. Every night i go from bed to bed. Touching their foreheads, sweeping hair out of their face, stealing kisses - so careful not to wake them.

My god how i love them. It hurts.

And they are growing so fast. We are making plans for birthdays. I'm so sad to leave behind the days of "they're 2, 4, 6, and 8! Yay me!"

Parker has been worried all weekend about the "mommas." When we moved the chicks outside "what about their momma?" When we see deer in the fields "where's their momma?" When we had roast chicken for dinner "is this the momma?" And finally, his constant reprise since christmas "where's our turkey?" He's such a compassionate and sweet boy. I feel so lucky to wake up next to his sweet face and plentiful kisses every morning.

This weekend has been filled with a long overdue spring cleaning. A cleaning involving many dead mice (6 and counting), chicks moved out of the laundry room and into the coop (photos soon i promise), and hand-made cards and crafty gifts. Every single thing i ever hoped for.

I wish for every single one of you to feel the love that i feel. To love what you have. To find peace in your sorrow. Happiness in your life. Family.

Happy mothers day.

Yesterday parker, eliza and i set off to outfit the kids for summer. On the drive in to victoria i was struck by the fact that my kids have really changed since we left the city - at least tristan and toby have. Parker and eliza were just babies when we moved - a few weeks old and two.

In the next month tristan, toby and eliza will turn nine, seven and five. I am constantly in awe of how time passes; the years fly by while the days, sometimes, drag on.

I have made a very conscious effort over the past two years to change my kids into non-consumers. To enjoy life and all that it offers without succumbing to the constant barrage of commercialism. It is easier to do that here. When we are bored we learn to be bored, or relaxed, without wandering over to a mall for entertainment. We go shopping when we need to instead of when we have the desire to. Tristan and toby have stopped asking for things. If they want something they save up for it or put it onto a birthday or christmas wish list. Even then they know to expect just a few things.

Although i often have the desire to lavish them with goodies (it has taken longer to change my habits - old dog, new tricks) i have noticed with some smug satisfaction that it is not them asking me for things, it's me asking me. I'm the one with the desire to see them wearing cute outfits from gap or gymboree. They are happy, happier, to wear hand-me-downs from special friends.

And when i come home with a bag full of new t-shirts, shorts and swimsuits they are filled with joy as they march around the house modeling their new wares. They appreciate every single thing.

Tristan brought home an illustrated story from school yesterday called "Mouse Goes To Space." Parker spent most of the afternoon playing "mousetrap," a game which involved him leaping in the air while standing on top of the dirt pile and landing on his cushiony soft bum.

As an aside, when oh when will parker potty train? I keep asking him if he wants to sit on the potty and the answer is always "nope, i'm okay." You'd think that i'd have all this taken care of the fourth time around, but no, each one of them is different and challenging in different ways.

We did not, however, catch a mouse. I was brave and pulled apart the sofa in question and cleaned any crumbs and stuff out of it. We placed poison in the basement and a trap under the sofa. I don't really like using the poison as i worry about the dogs so i am trying to convince shane that some cats that live in the basement would be a great idea.

At our baseball game last night, which by the way is so much fun i'm surprising myself, parker was sitting on my lap looking at my shirt when he grabbed my boobs in his little fists and asked "is there still milk in your boobies?"

I was sitting in the middle of a bench flanked by dads, whom you'd think would have heard it all before too, but the silence was deafening. I laughed so hard i very nearly peed my pants. Parker non-plussed as always leaned in and slid his hands into their new favourite home - down the front of my shirt.

Moments ago...moments ago!!! I was sitting on the couch getting ready to write a nice post about "i love you's" and how hard it is to drag those words out of my kids mouths, lots of "right back at you's" and "me too's."

Anyway, i heard a little scritch scritch underneath me, from within the sofa! At first i thought it was lucy or doodle scratching at the couch to make a bed (a leftover instinct from sleeping in barns). But no! They are upstairs in bed with the kids. It was something else, something little and prbably rodent like. OMFG. The horror.

We realized a few weeks ago there were mice (or something worse) in the wall and the crawl space so we put in some traps and caught one alarmingly large mouse (or small rat.) And then we hilariously thought that was that. Then we heard more scritching...

ALERT - i was just instant messaging and the mouse peeked out from under the couch at me! That sound you hear is me running screaming upstairs.

Harry Potter was our little sick rooster. I couldn't tell what was wrong with him. He couldn't walk. One leg would lay straight backwards and the other forwards. Like the rooster splits. He's just a bantam so he fits in the palm of your hand.I thought it was something broken.

We kept him in the hospital wing of our coop for a whole week. Taking him out on the grass for some sunshine and food and water twice a day. If we left him with the other chickens the other two roosters, stanley and dumptruck, attacked him.

Last night i was on the phone with my farmer friend talking to him about it. "I know i have to kill him, but how do you do that?" Terrified. Obviously.

He offered to come over and either do it or show me how. I felt like a lame-ass, but so relieved.

We took harry potter out on the grass and watched him for awhile. My friend got on the phone with his wife who was a vet. They did many tests chatting back and forth. It wasn't broken legs. Something neurological - perhaps contagious.

When it was time to kill harry i had to go hide in the bushes. All my kids watched as well as his son. They are so much braver. I think they don't comprehend how valuable life is and how easy death comes. I also think that changed a little for them last night.

When i talked to them before bed to make sure they were okay, they all were. Especially toby who said;

"Oh yeah! Because i'm going to be a farmer when i grow up!"

It's hard to beat the manliness of our farmer friend.

RIP harry potter rooster.

I have to say my anxiety about BlogHer is really growing. What was i thinking? What am i going to wear? My shoes that are covered in chicken coop goop?

There's lots of cool people i want to meet, but i know i'm going to stumble over all my words. Ask anybody. I just can't carry on a conversation with anyone - except kids. Kids like me. I like kids.

I actually don't have a plane ticket yet. I did - sort of. But, i managed to alienate and piss off my entire *family. As a result i have no ticket. If i buy it on my credit card i will have no credit left to buy clothes to wear to the conference or money to spend at the conference which i'm not really sure i even want to go to now.

But, then again, at the very worst i could hang out in my room at the hotel and get lots of sleep and time alone. That in itself is reason to go isn't it.

Shane is traveling a lot over the next five months. Edmonton, Portland, Toronto and New York this month alone. Lot's of single parenting is coming my way between now and september. I really need that break.

Are you enjoying this conversation i'm having in my head? I didn't think so. I'm going to take photos for the ten things that make me happy meme from notcalm jen.

*i'm not actually allowed to use this word anymore in context with those who are related to me by blood so this will be the last time.

As some of you remember i recently had some questions about chicken recipes. I'm proud to say i have made many of the recipes and i have almost gotten over my fear of raw chicken. The thing is though that my (live) chickens are molting and going a little crazy right now and when i look at their little bald spots they look JUST LIKE CHICKEN!! OMG.

Tonight i am trying chair's chicken recipe with a little twist; i diced the chicken before putting it in the marinade and i plan on sauteing it with some garlic and olive oil and tossing it with linguine and serving it with feta on top and sauteed zucchini on the side. That should go over GREAT with the kids!

For dessert? A side of sour grapes.

I have noticed recently that lots of bloggers are getting jobs writing on other blogs. LOTS of other blogs. (I must be twitchy today what with all the CAPS) Now i am happy that these women are making money doing what they love and providing an income for their families. All that stuff? Awesome.

But, i keep looking for posts, actual posts on blogs, and get redirected to other blogs. My mind? It is weak and tired. I can't keep track of all the blogs and who writes where and which jen is this anyway? Can't they get paid to write their own blogs? Why have seven blogs when you can have just one? You hear that big corporate companies cashing on blogging talent! I want to read the same old blogs with the same old writers and have them get paid to do that! I don't want to be tracked and clocked and become part of the corporate machine.

Have a great weekend!

Do you remember that episode of the sopranos where tony tells his therapist "sometimes what we do in here is like taking a shit"?

I've been thinking about that episode recently. Wishing that i could have that kind of purge. That feeling of letting it all go.

I guess that sometimes wishes do come true for i have experienced the full body purge. Luckily i was the only one in the house who got sick. But oh how sick i got, made worse by the fact that i started the getting sick with the first round of stomach yucks on friday night only to have it return on tuesday night. In the middle of tuesday night while pleading with shane to "call an ambulance because i'm dying!" i was simultaneously amazed and horrified with the amount of crap, literally and figuratively, one body can hold inside of it. Yet here i am, slightly achy and nauseous, but all better! And! If even momentarily, i lost the five pounds i gained after weaning parker. It won't last though because i am not one of those people that doesn't eat when they are sick. In between bathroom visits i was thinking about the food i was going to eat when i was all better. I love food.

Shane stayed home from work (until 2:30) wednesday as i had been keeping him up all night with my barfing and explosiveness. I was struck throughout the morning by the differences in our parenting. Now, to say he was staying home is a bit misleading. He was actually working at home and letting parker and eliza fend for themselves. As i laid in bed doubled over with stomach cramps i listened to parker and eliza playing outside in the sandbox while shane talked (on and on) on the telephone oblivious to their safety. I would have been angry had i had the strength instead i filed away a mental note making sure not to leave him alone with the kids on a workday.

When i finally came downstairs this morning the house was such an unbelievable disaster. Shane was all googly eyes, "you're feeling better? you sure are pretty."

"Yes, i'm feeling better, but you are definitely not getting lucky anytime soon."

"What? I take care of you and the kids? And now you hate me?"

"Yes i hate you, but thanks for taking care of me."

Norwalk Virus

Very Sick

Back Soon

Have you ever been at a point in your life where simultaneously everything is going great and terribly at the same time?

That is where i am at. My kids are doing excellent. Parker has turned a corner and feels a little more comfortable with the world and hence is a lot happier and a joy to be around. I felt my work was complete when today he shrieked with excitement when we drove by a construction site:

"Mom!! Mom! Did you see that? That was AWESOME!!"

"Yes parker that was awesome!"

Toby is happy. Happy to learn and go to school. I am so thankful for his teacher and the school we chose. He hangs out by her side all day and she helps him along whenever he needs it. As a result his reading is coming along and he's almost on track with the grade one expectations. We've cancelled speech therapy until september as it was all becoming too stressful for everyone.

Eliza is getting ready for kindergarten and talking about it a lot. That's the first step and the first step forward we've made in a long time.

Tristan is happy and beautiful inside and out. We look forward to survivor together, making bets on how long shane will last and reading blackbird's survivor wrap-up. I can't believe that i have such an amazing daughter. I feel so lucky.

Things are coming together for me. I'm figuring out how to balance all the different aspects of my life and finally beginning to plan some time for me when i have three kids in school in september. Masters swimming? Yoga? Plus spending time with parker one on one. I haven't done that since i had only tristan.

I'm super excited to join the ranks of the most awesome Rock-n-Rompers and announce the first ever canadian Rock-n-Romp vancouver island style in july. No details have come together, but will soon. Stay tuned!

The flu. I got the flu on friday night. Actually, i'm not sure it was the flu, more accurately i think i fell into the exhaustion trap. Sad hearts, staying up late and middle of the night anxiety attacks caught up with me and i woke up saturday morning with tummy pains and a body that ached. Unfortunately my brush with millionaires and a chance to snazzy up in my fancy shoes and pretty dress was set to happen saturday night.

I stayed in bed all day hoping to feel a little better. I didn't really but had a long hot shower, took a bunch of tylenol 3's and gussied up as best i could. The "gala" was interesting and could have been fun if not for my rumbly tummy and foggy head. We were seated at the head table which proved to be the best table to be at during the "live" auction.

I learned something. Rich people? They are more than willing to spend $2000 for a pair of drumsticks used by metallica. And hey! It's fun to be a part of that action. I came very close to winning a bid for a parking spot at the private school the gala was on behalf of when i sneezed and raised my hand at the $1400 mark.

But, i made it through with as much grace as possible and completed part one of my six fingered plan to employment.

I spent the rest of the weekend in bed reading blogs and catching up on mommywars! And? I just don't get it. Is this really a new battle? Am i not seeing it? Working moms vs stay at home moms? As far as i can tell this battle has been going on since my mom had children.

The thing of it is though. The thing that really bothers me - and this is not a revelation - most of the moms weighing in are parents to one child. I understand that it is always hard to leave a child in care and go to work, that the decision is one that is often made by financial necessity, the desire to have a life outside of the home, to have value in society because we all know there is little value in being a sahm.

But, when you are a mother to two or more children every decision is made more difficult in leaps and bounds by the children you have. When you have three or more children staying at home becomes more of a necessity, at the very least, while you still have babies. And when you have multiple children you have babies for many years. Every single one of those years that you stay home you become less employable and lose more of the you that once existed. It's not as simple as dropping a child in care somewhere while you get your feet back in the waters or take care of your own needs. Your needs are put on hold for a long time. A simple exercise routine is held hostage by multiple drop offs and pick ups, after school activities, cleaning, shopping, cooking, entertaining... on and on. The mere thought of organizing care for multiple children with complicated schedules becomes so financially burdensome that staying home becomes the best option - for the family. Once again, as the mother, your needs are put last.

Now, i know i chose to have lots of kids and my burden is my own. Yet, everywhere i look the best opportunities are being given to the mothers with one child. The best blogging jobs, the highest traffic, the speaking opportunities. I'm speaking solely about the blogosphere now. Mothers with one child have the most time to devote to blogging and, as such, are heard the most. But, those experiences that were once mine don't represent my life, or lots of others, at all. We know how to take care of toddlers and what to expect from the early years of schooling. Not that these aren't still difficult times, they are just not surprising anymore. And no, i haven't made an effort to make money off this whole thing. That's not why i do it. But, i am frustrated when i hear of great mothers not getting them.

What am i saying? I'm lost in the muddle of my words. But, i think that the mommywars are being played out by a group of parents who don't represent the rest of us. Those of us with more than one child. Those of us who are deeper in the trenches.