If anyone told me ten years ago, or even five years ago, what my life would be like today I would never believe them. In fact, I would probably freak out.

5:25 am – alarm goes off. Feel unusually refreshed as NO ONE WOKE UP LAST NIGHT. Leave the house to go to the yoga studio, after consuming a fruit leather and thinking I probably didn’t need that second supersize glass of wine last night.

7:00 – get home and immediately start feeding the dog and the kids. Prepare breakfast smoothie for Mark and Dino Egg oatmeal for Jake, while simultaneously scarfing down cereal and wondering why the coffee takes so long to perculate. Clean up breakfast disaster and gulp down coffee. Spend the next hour and a half showering, etc., getting the boys dressed and cleaned up, etc., cleaning the bathroom and starting the never ending laundry.

9:00 – feed the children a snack while slicing up grapes, as it is our turn to bring snack to school and apparently preschoolers are not able to eat whole grapes, which seems ridiculous, however, it is the rule and am way too intimidated by Miss Jan to not slice grapes.

9:30 – attempt to make Halloween crafts with the boys while being reminded why it is the boys are inept when it comes to crafts. It’s genetic. The ghost’s head keeps falling off and Jake snaps the tail off the black cat. Stop the craft making process midway through to “let the glue dry” although it is really because I feel like I might lose my mind gluing on the teeny tiny googly eyes that come in every craft package. Resolve to complete craft later.

10:00 – reluctantly get talked into a rowdy game of “Weebleville” while simultaneously playing with the dog so that he does not eat the Weebles. Wonder why boys have to make so many vehicular sound effects and why said sound effects have to be so LOUD. Practice thinking positive thoughts. Have many conversations about different trucks and cars, and what kinds of vehicles I would like to drive someday (in reality, none, but I always valiantly rise to the occasion and say I would like to drive a fire truck or maybe an excavator).

10:30 – boys are happily playing by themselves, so I make stir fry sauce, continue doing laundry, and troll the internet for instructions on how to make turkeys out of pine cones, again thinking positive thoughts. Glue the fucking head back on the ghost.

11:00 – allow children to watch Berenstain Bears while I cut cheese into little cubes for preschool snack, fold laundry and prepare lunch. Feed kids and dog and realize I haven’t eaten, so scarf down a cheese sandwich. Consider writing a witty weight-loss book (“Never sit down! Get so caught up in mundane day-to-day details that you forget to eat!”) but on second thought consider that the reality is more pathetic than witty.

12:00 – get the boys ready for school and read books until it is time to leave. Halfway through Blue’s Big Birthday realize that I haven’t got a gift for my father’s birthday dinner on Sunday.

1:00 – drop the boys and massive amounts of muffin, cheese, grapes, and chocolate milk off at the preschool. Hope no moms hate me for supplying their children with chocolate milk. Realize there is no way I’m getting through the afternoon without a pick-me-up, so stop at Starbucks for a chai. Spend the remainder of the afternoon going to Golf Town for a gift and then walking the dog.

3:30 – pick up boys, come home, prepare stir-fry, realize that there is no chance in hell the boys will eat said stir-fry, think WTF, it’s Friday, make them chicken fingers and oven fries to go with their carrots and peppers.

5:05 – in preparation for becoming a senior citizen, dinner is now finished. Realize, depressingly, how much of my day is spent either preparing food or cleaning up from meals. The boys play outside, Rob comes home, I feed them one more snack, then start bathtime by 7:00. Put kids to bed by 7:30.

7:35 – crack open a bottle of wine, following my general rule of alcoholism-avoidance – do not drink until kids are in bed. Totally relax by reading, oddly, Barbara Walters’ memoir.

I write this as I want to one day look back and see, what exactly did I do all day when the kids were young? Also, I don’t want to forget the utterly sweet moments that occurred during the day that made all the strange drudgery and busyness worthwhile. Like when Jake announced, with regards to our dog, “Barkley is my best friend. Other than Mark that is”. Or when Mark whispered so softly in my ear while I was reading Cars and Trucks and Things That Go, “I have a secret, Mama. I love you.”

Alice Munro wrote in “The Spanish Lady”, about a woman riding on a train recalling a similar trip with her now-grown children,

“I had to sleep close beside them at night and sit with them climbing around me in the daytime; my body felt bruised by their knees and elbows and feet. I did think then that it would be lovely to be a woman traveling alone, able to sit after a meal drinking coffee and looking out the window, able to go to the club car and have a drink. Now…all that time of care and confusion that seemed as if it would never end seems as if it never were.”

I am trying to remind myself of these words, to cherish these fleeting moments. When I see the boys careening across the lawn together, chasing each other like the race cars they were in another life, I recall the days when they weren’t allowed outside by themselves, when they couldn’t walk or run or even play together in a meaningful way.

And so it is that I remind myself to cherish the constant, unceasing stream of chatter that follows me from room to room, leaving me with zero personal mental space. If conversations were a Venn diagram, then the content circles would only slightly overlap. The timing circles, however, would be directly on top of one another.

Mark (whose conversational style follows the three R’s – rapid, repetitive, and reference-book-like, if said reference book contained only vehicular information): “Mom, who do you like on the Cars Movie? Who do you like that starts with M? That could be Mater, or McQueen, or Mack. Or maybe minivan? Who do you like that starts with M? MOM. MOM. Mark is not a name on the Cars Movie. Would it be funny if I drove a cement mixer, but I put the chute down when I was driving, and cement was everywhere? Would that be funny? Do you like Doc Hudson’s tires when they are orange or silver? Mom? Orange or silver? You know the Caprice by Mike’s house? It’s not street legal. It doesn’t even have a license plate.”

Jake (whose conversational style mimics a Brad nailer – loud, staccato-like, and occasionally punctuated by a booming, air-compressor-like announcement): “MOM! Do you know what? MOM??? MOM??? I look like a bunny rabbit when I hop like this. Hop hop hop. Do you MOM??? MOM??? Do you know what else I like? I like elephants. I like Malti and also MOM? I like Spike! But he pooped! MOM! He pooped on the floor! At the MOM?? At the zoo!! Dad’s Cruiser has a cargo cover and he put, he put, he put, he put, his golf clubs in it! MOM! His golf clubs in it!! MOM???”

When the boys have left home, and call on occasion, and speak to me briefly, I will recall these days and the ensuing silence will be deafening.

So this morning, when I got home from yoga at 7:15, the pouring rain was starting to taper off and the sky was beginning to clear. It felt like a great day for the zoo – not too warm, and not so nice that the entire city of sahms would have the same idea. The kids were thrilled. Mark immediately ran to get dressed and found that the blue shirt he wanted to wear was in the wash. He immediately (and uncharacteristically) burst into unconsolable tears. The crying went on for twenty minutes. This is highly unusual for him; he’s not really a crier when things go wrong, more of a complainer/debater. Finally he pulled himself together enough to take my suggestion of wearing a DIFFERENT SHIRT. Fine. Then the usual sunscreen debate between he and I began, and ended fairly amicably with a quick sunscreen application. When it was almost time to go, and I was feeling a little fried from the Mark-haranguing, I started to apply sunscreen to Jake. He ran behind the couch, and when I retrieved him, he squirmed away, running, and laughing. Note that this is, in the not-even-grand scheme of things, a very small violation. Sunscreen resistance is something I deal with every single sunny day, and I have dealt with it every single sunny day since they were old enough to wear sunscreen. However, I had, at that exact moment, totally run out of patience. I did exactly what I coach the children NOT to do – I hurled the sunscreen bottle across the floor and stormed out of the room. When the boys came to check up on steaming me, I announced that we were not going to the zoo as Jake wouldn’t cooperate with his sunscreen application. Ah. There’s nothing like putting a guilt trip on your two year old. When Jake came back five minutes later to say that he would be a good boy and put his sunscreen on, and then could we go to the zoo? I felt like I was starring in some weird “how NOT to parent your children” video.

It really reminded me of when Jake was a (colicky) newborn and Mark was a year and a half, and Jake would be crying for solid hours on end, despite much baby-wearing, rocking, attempts to feed, etc., and Mark would have some totally normal age-related crying/whining fit, and I would totally lose it and end up yelling at Mark. Sometimes with kids you can just take it and take it and take it and then you snap, and the result is just totally inappropriate with what made you snap in the first place.Guilt is an integral part of motherhood.

After sunscreen and hugs, we had a really great day at the zoo, marred only by the explanation as to why the stingray exhibit was closed. The boys were pretty saddened by the loss of so many stingrays. The drive home was all about “Why did the stingrays get sick? Did they have a stingray doctor? Why didn’t the doctor help them? Why did they not know what was wrong? Why did they die?”, culminating in the grand question “What if all the animals get sick and die and we can’t go to the zoo anymore?”

Existential questions and fights about sunscreen. Sometimes the world of parenting small children is just so completely surreal.Can any of you relate?

Since the beginning of the month, I’ve been asked several times if I’m going to take the boys down to the “grounds”. My answer is always an unequivocal NO. The idea of taking them down, on the train, in the heat, in the crowds, to battle line-ups, etc., etc., is just not at all appealing to me. Not to mention that 95% of their clothing consists of jeans and t-shirts from the Children’s Place, and getting them into any sort of Western wear would require way more patience and organization skills than I currently possess. (note about this: I may do a lot of mommy things well, but caring about their outfits is just not one of them. My one standard is cleanliness: if it’s clean, they can wear it. This means that last summer, Mark wore a blue shirt that had a picture of a guitar and the words “Rock On” every second day. But I digress.)

I grew up in Calgary, and although I visited the Stampede with some regularity, I just never understood the appeal. With the exception of the requisite group dates to the Stampede as a teenager (anyone remember Sundowners?), I failed to see anything special about it.

This all changed once I finished university and started working in O&G. All you who have worked in the O&G industry in Calgary know what I’m saying. Leaving work to go drinking and do a lame version of the two-step was not only tolerated, it was encouraged. Party at 11:00 am, on company time, with company funds? Of course. Going to the rodeo instead of working on a project? Yes indeed. Being either completely drunk or completely hungover for ten days? Yes sir!

I guess that compared to that, dressing the boys up in Western wear to go to the grounds, lining up to go on a kiddie ride and eat a sno-cone is just such a comedown that I don’t want to do it. Also, the last rodeo I attended (in 2003) was so much fun that I got pregnant! Oops, was that too much information? Cheers, and happy Stampeding to all of you going!

I’m a big fan of simple pleasures. Like looking into the garden and seeing a perfect blossom when yesterday there was just a bud. Or watching the children play happily together, using their nice voices. I would much rather have a nice glass of red wine and read an excellent book than say, go to a crowded bar (and it really doesn’t have everything to do with the fact I can’t stay up past 10:00. I would like to blame this phenomenon on the fact I have two little kids, or the fact that I get up at 5:40 to practice yoga, but truly I have always been this way. As old friends can attest, even when I was a “swinging” single girl, I couldn’t stay up on Friday night to watch Sex and the City, which started at 9:30. But I digress.)

I was thinking about this the other day when we were up at the lake and despite many, many amenities available to them, the kids just wanted to blow bubbles and run up and down the dirt road to see a very old VW van (dubbed Fillmore – those of you familiar with the Cars movie will understand). Recently they spent a solid 45 minutes playing in a mud puddle – first throwing rocks in, then jumping in, splashing and screaming with joy. On a recent trip to the nearby duck pond, the boys spent a hour and a half picking dandelions and throwing them into the pond with the mistaken impression that ducks eat dandelions. They were undaunted in their efforts, despite the fact that not one duck took any notice. (Nor did they take notice of the boys speaking duck language “Quack! QUACK!!!!”)

It’s a well-known fact that babies prefer gift wrap and boxes to the actual gifts inside said boxes. Mark and Jake are well past the age of that , but it seems they still prefer simple activities. How about you?

I’m really having a slump-y afternoon. Those of you who are home with the kids may understand….for me Friday afternoons are always a bit tinged with melancholy. Sure, we will be doing fun things on the weekend. Sure, it will be great to have Rob take over some of the kid-related activities. But weekends are sure not what they once were. You’d think I’d be used to this by now, but normally by Friday afternoon I’m a touch, let’s say, bitchy? And easily annoyed? So I thought I’d write down a few things with the thought that maybe seeing the absurdity in writing will make me laugh a bit.

THINGS THAT IRRITATED ME TODAY (note, most of these things happen on a daily basis, but don’t usually irritate me)

Early morning conversation.

Me: Okay guys, before we head out, make sure you brush your teeth, wash your faces, and use the bathroom.

Jake: I not have to pee, Mama.

Jake: I already peed last week!

Jake: I peed yesterday when I had my bath! (note: following the grand tradition of his brother’s, he makes a happy game of peeing in the bath)

Me: Jake, we’re not leaving until you go to the bathroom.

Jake: Okay Mama. But, I’m not peeing ever again!

Five minutes later…

Me: Let’s get our sunscreen on!

Mark: I don’t need sunscreen.

Me: Yes you do!

Mark: I’m never going outside again if I have to wear sunscreen.

Me: (sound of brain exploding from the tedium of the preschooler debate team)

Later in the day…(note: I’m very fortunate in that the boys rarely fight. When they do fight, however, it is so stupid as to be completely mind-numbing. This is why I have a red wine habit).

Mark: Jake, who do you want to be from the Cars movie? I’m going to be Chick.

Jake: I be Doc Hudson! The town doctor and dudge!

Mark: I changed my mind. Actually, I’m Doc Hudson.

Jake: No I am. I AM DOC HUDSON.

Both, simultaneously: AAAHHHHHHHAAAHHHHHH

Still later in this very long afternoon.

Me: Hey guys, would you like to pick out a video to watch while I make dinner?

Mark: Jake, let’s watch Garbage Dump – your favourite! (note: this actually is Jake’s favourite video).

Jake: YAYYYY!!!!

Me: Mark, that was so nice to pick that one out.

As I’m putting the DVD into the machine…

Mark: Actually, I changed my mind. I don’t agree. How about Buses, Subways and Trains?

Jake: NO! Garbage Dump! Actually, I don’t agree. Maybe Construction Site?

Mark: NO!

Jake: NO!

Me (very cleverly): Okay, if you can’t agree, I will choose something for you. (turning on Treehouse, knowing that Fifi and the Flowertots is on)

Both: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!! NOT FIFI!!!!! TURN IT OFF!!!!!!

Mark: Jake, what about Mission to Mars?

Jake: Okay.

And so the weekend countdown begins!!!

I am in a really good place right now, in terms of my children. Believe me – BELIEVE ME – this has not always been the case. The stages that they are in right now are so great. Mark at four is kind, helpful, and independently branching out in so many fun and wonderful ways. I also find that I am enjoying Jake at 2 1/2 more than I enjoyed Mark at that age – possibly because I don’t have a one year old to take care of. Jake’s nutty, funny, and inherently kind. They play together well and really like one another.

When I think about where I was two years ago, or even one year ago, I think “Who was that crazy person?”. I recall feeling exhausted to the point of collapse. I recall that an outing to the grocery store could feel like a marathon, and an outing to the zoo felt like an Olympic event, but one in which I was not trained. I recall two years ago when my sister-in-law came to visit, I actually almost fell asleep at the wheel after picking her up at the airport.

Motherhood has not been what I thought it would be – is anything? – but what it is, is simultaneously heartbreaking and uplifting, frustrating and rewarding, frantically boring and incredibly exciting.

I wanted to write this note to give a shout-out to all you moms – you are all doing great at this incredibly difficult job! Here’s to you! Now I am going to pour myself an enormous glass of wine and toast all of you. Love you all.