In one week, Rob and I will have been married for seven years. For weeks I’ve been joking about getting the seven year itch. “Uh oh,” I’ll say, “I’m getting itchy!” and he will smile at me indulgently. That smile, that indulgence, is one of the many reasons I love him so much. He is indulgent and patient when it comes to me: my moods, my occasional crying jags, my wine consumption. He brings me Gerber daisies and listens to my stories, he buys me wine and rubs my back. He is a very good husband.

We have been parents for five out of the seven years that we have been married; in fact, our first child was born on our second anniversary (although I do not actually recommend the delivery room as a romantic anniversary destination). When Mark was a baby, and I would get together with my new mom’s group, conversations would always start out about nursing, and diapers, and our lack of sleep, and then they would morph into discussions about our husbands. “He was complaining about being TIRED,” someone would say, and we would all nod our heads in agreement, since moms have the market cornered on tiredness. “He went for a beer after work!” someone else would say and we would commiserate and talk about how we had to make dinner one-handed, with a baby on one hip. We were exhausted, hormone-deranged, overwhelmed with our new motherly responsibilities, and a little resentful that our husbands’ lives had not changed so entirely and absolutely, as ours had. Looking back, I can see that our husbands’ lives did change in just as substantial a way, even though they were still heading out to work in the morning instead of facing a day in the house with a newborn and a mountain of laundry.

Having a baby can put an enormous strain on a relationship, but it is also such a blessing. When I first met Rob, almost thirteen years ago, I would smile when I saw him, so ruggedly handsome in his CAT boots and jeans and fleece vest from Mountain Equipment Co-Op, with his longish hair on his forehead. Now he comes home from work, still ruggedly handsome, but in a suit and with much shorter, greyer hair. And I smile, and marvel at my fortune.

What, did I leave you hanging? I’m happy to report that Mark is 100% healthy and Jake is approaching that point. Mark had one of those illnesses I always hope for when the kids are sick, in that he was feverish, non-eating and sloth-like for one day, and completely well again the next day. I love when that happens! I mean, I don’t love the sick part, but it’s great when the recovery is quick and not like our Christmastime let’s-be-sick-and-have-it-drag-out-for-weeks fiasco. Jake was slightly slower to recover but it seems like they will be able to attend preschool tomorrow afternoon THANK YOU LORD. Because I don’t know about your children, but mine are kind of horrible to be around once they have passed the lying-around stage and are in the getting-our-energy-back-but-have-cabin-fever-and-must-shriek-and-whine-all-day stage. So I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

I’m really happy to be over it though, because as I mentioned, I have a birthday party to throw on Saturday! It’s Mark’s fifth, although his actual birthday isn’t for another week. This is the first party where he was really particular about his guest list (“I only want to invite boys. Except you, Mom”.) My lovely, dearest friend is the queen of party planning; her daughters’ parties always have themes, and often destinations, and appropriate activities, whereas I am decidedly NOT the queen of party planning, if you know what I’m saying. But – and who knew! – the internet is just full of party ideas! So we are having a superhero themed party, complete with the afore-mentioned “decorate your own bat” craft, “Mr. Freeze Dance”, and a superhero obstacle course. Also, my mother sewed little capes with each child’s initial on it for a party favour. Let me tell you, it is handy to have a mother who likes to sew and who also likes to do things for her grandchildren. Props to Grandma. This is especially nice since my lovely, dearest friend can tell you I am no seamstress, as well as no party planner. We met in ninth grade and sat next to each other in Home Ec (do they still have Home Ec?) and chatted while she sewed her actually-wearable t-shirt and I ripped out stitches over and over until my t-shirt was a shred of material with holes in it. Also I am completely unable to sew on buttons. I digress.

Thanks for all the finger-crossing, it looks like we will make it until Saturday! That is, unless I commit myself to the asylum from all the shrieking and whining around here. Cross your fingers that won’t happen!

Did you know that there is a huge upside to minus twenty temperatures? If you have two sick kids, and they don’t want to drink the amount of liquids that they should be drinking, you can rummage around in the basement to find the box of Freezies left over from the summer, put them outside, and within the hour they will be frozen! Freezies! In the winter! The novelty alone caused the boys to consume many, many of the frozen treats, which caused a mid-afternoon attitude rally. I call THAT a small, sick day miracle.

Oh Lord, I’m bored. I am almost writing a song about being bored. The boys are the kind of sick where they don’t feel like doing anything – stories, crafts, etc. – but watching TV. So, being the great mom that I am, the TV has been on almost all day. Mark summed it up by saying “I don’t want to watch this show. But I’m going to watch it.”

So I’ve been spending the day baking awesome peanut butter cookies, opening Freezies, and tracing and cutting out outlines of bats, the template for which was very kindly made by my younger brother, since my own artistic rendering of a bat looks more like a circle with two lopsided triangles attached to it. And why would I be spending hours cutting out construction paper bats, you might ask? It’s for Mark’s birthday party on Saturday, of course! Because getting sick for your birthday is the COOLEST. Cross your fingers we are all better by then. Mine will be.

Hee hee. That title alone makes me laugh. Is there a less sexualized word than “mom”? Mom jeans. Mom hair. It conjures up an image that is not exactly…attractive. There are “yummy mummies” and “hot mamas”, but “moms”? Not sexy. “Soccer moms” might get the worst of it in terms of image, and I am actually becoming one this year! I guess I will have to find myself a neon windbreaker tracksuit, since I already have a minivan.

Sometimes it’s hard for a stay at home mom to have some good fashion mojo, if you know what I mean. It’s a slippery slope in the fashion department, and this is coming from a woman whose style, nine months out of the year, is characterized by jeans (but low-rise, NEVER mom jeans) and a t-shirt layered underneath a v-neck sweater, in a veritable rainbow of blacks, grays, and browns. Yesterday I received a “fashion magazine” which is put out by The Bay (I don’t know why or how I receive these magazines, but I have for years). Since my wardrobe is as described above, I generally peruse these magazines for style ideas, which remain largely theoretical as I dislike shopping (which is a good prerequisite to being a mother of boys), and whenever I do shop I end up picking up something black, gray, or brown.

Nonetheless, I opened the magazine, and I quote, “Mindful of our mandate to identify the looks that will work effortlessly into your life, we interpret and communicate the major trends”. The magazine then goes on list such lovely ideas as “sensuous…kaftan tunics” and “graphic big-cat animalia prints”. Seriously? Big-cat animalia prints? My grandma looks awesome in those, as well as kaftan tunics; she is a beautiful woman but she is also in her eighties. So I think I’ll pass. There is also a spread on floral-print dresses and cardigans, and while they look sort of cute on the nineteen year old model, I kind of think that I would look frumpy and idiotic in them (again, this is theoretical since I haven’t worn a dress or skirt in several years). Then there is the pair of go-anywhere ubiquitous white pants. With two boys and a dog? Unless I want to cultivate the slovenly, Pigpen-from-Charlie-Brown look, I think I’ll forgo the white pants.

It’s really hard to find clothes that are appropriate and comfortable, but are not from Tan Jay or similar. It seems like once you hit your thirties, unless you are going to a job where you wear nice clothes every day, you are left out of the market. Is anyone else having these struggles? Or is it just me and my monochromatic wardrobe?

There’s something about February, despite the shortness of the month, which makes it feel really long. Maybe it’s the arctic climate that does it, and the fact that it is still a really long time until spring. But nonetheless, here we are, in March!

The weekend wasn’t much fun because I’m husbandless for the majority of the week, and as experience has indicated, the anticipation is worse than the reality. In other words, everyone was out of sorts all weekend long. The boys were super-sensitive and weepy, and I was feeling sour, not the least because my dear husband chose Saturday to tell me about the company golf tournament in Jasper for a weekend in June. Honey! Let me get through the week’s absence before we talk about you leaving again! And for a golf tournament no less. Anyway.

But he’s gone now and the boys and I are settled into our usual routine. I know that there is a parenting sect that disapproves of routines and schedules, but I am all for it. Nothing is quite as comforting to me and the kids as our routine, mundane though it might be. Since today is Monday, our routine includes – hold onto your hats! – Cleaning the Entire House. I know what you’re thinking: what a crazy life she lives, and how do I get that kind of life? Truly though, I don’t find cleaning that oppressive. A not-insignificant number of my friends have a “cleaning lady” but that is something I just wouldn’t spend money on. (A personal chef? Now THAT is my dream. I would spend a lot of money on that. Alas.) For one thing, my house just isn’t that big. More importantly, the boys love to help with various household chores, and I think it is particularly vital for boys to develop the necessary life skill of Cleaning the House. I think it’s important that they learn hey, washing the floor and cleaning the bathroom is a good and necessary thing, and one that doesn’t just happen on its own. Also it’s cute to see them, so intent with their Swiffer dusters and the vacuum, busy as bees, focused on Cleaning the House, because it’s Monday.