So, I've been writing everywhere but here. But still, it's me, so if you like me (even a little, and I'm guessing you do, even a little, since you're here), check 'em on out.

You guys have been really quiet around these parts. Was it something I (haven't) said?
(cue unhealthy need for praise and attention)


This. Is. Jeopardy. (Weekend Edition)

A – It’s how k, Chris and the kids spent the day on Saturday, much to their exhaustion and delight.

Q – What is: planting an awesome new flower garden in the back yard?

A – Throwing dirt, eating dirt, popping off flower-heads, eating flower heads, hitting each other in the head with shovels, scaring their mother by bringing her bugs.

Q – What are: the things k and Chris were constantly telling the kids not to do.

A – Kale, tomatoes, zucchini and peppers.

Q – What are: the vegetables that will planted adjacent to the flower garden next weekend?

A – Spice-rubbed organic pork tenderloin, corn, asparagus, mashed sweet potatoes and various pickles.

Q – What is: the menu for the bbq we had (with my mum and bro), overlooking our new garden, on Saturday night.

A – Corn.

Q – What is: the only thing that Bee ate for dinner on Saturday?

A – Painfully red.

Q – What was: the colour of Chris’ neck by day’s end?

A – Very dark grey.

Q – What was: the colour of the bath water after the kids were in it Saturday night?

A – 9 pm.

Q – What is: the time the kids went to sleep on Saturday night?

A – 5 seconds.

Q – What is: the time it took for the kids to go to sleep on Saturday night?

A – Sprawled on the couch watching The Weather Network because changing the channel took too much energy.

Q – What is: the way k and Chris spent the remainder of Saturday evening after the kids were asleep and the company had left?

A – 10 am! Whoot!

Q – What is: the time k got to sleep in until on Sunday morning?

A – Because all she got for mother’s day was a raincheque.

Q – What is: the reason that k got to sleep in until 10am on Sunday?

A – Maxin’ and relaxin’ in the sunshine.

Q – What is: the way k, Chris and the kids spent the day on Sunday.

A – Grilled calamari, grilled vegetables, rice, a Corona.

Q – What is: the dinner k and Chris let someone else make for them Sunday night.

A – It’s the ridiculous, boring, stupid movie that took k 4 ½ hours to watch (including interruptions) and during the viewing of which k wondered (many times over) why the hell she didn’t just turn it off and go to sleep already?

Q – What is The Curious Case of Benjamin Buttons?

A – 5 1/2

Q – What is: the number of hours k slept last night because she stayed up way too late watching a stupid movie?

A - Work, dammit.

Q - Where is k now?

A – 121

Q – What is: the number of hours until the next weekend begins?



Haiku Friday: Stumbling Towards Zen

Do not despair the
fallen tree, for in its wake
a flower may bloom.


In the dawn's soft light,
anything is possible.
Revelation; peace.


Through an open door,
the world moves on; and does still
once the door is shut.


Helping me be a zen mama:


And Over at My Other Gig...

I'm talking about forgetting anniversaries, the trials and triumphs of marriage, and why I may be up for title of The Seven-Year Bitch, here.

Have a great 2-4 everybody! See you on the flipside.



I Coudn't Make This Up

My husband, or nanny, or somebody, must have told Bee that Sunday was Mother’s Day, because it was all she could talk about on yesterday. We were out on a dinner date at our favourite dinner date destination, and generously, Bee kept listing the items she wanted to give me for Mother’s Day.

As we ate our dinner: I could get you juice for Mother’s Day!

As we talked about her birthday party last weekend: I could get you a puzzle for Mother’s Day!

As we walked past the baked goods: I could get you a cookie for Mother’s Day!

As we looked at the organic seedlings on our way out of the store: I could get you a flower for Mother’s Day!

As we walked past the bookstore: I could get you a book for Mother’s Day!

As we walked past the magazine store: Yes! I’m going to get you a book for Mother’s Day!

Bee ran up to the window of the magazine store and stood in front of the current issues.

A book would be awesome, I said, which one do you want to get me?

This one! The one with the finger-paints!

Well, I guess it is her style.

Hope you all have a great day, Mamas.



Birthday, Girl

It would be funny if the baby was born on 5/5/5, my sister said. And then my mother said it, and then my husband said it.

But the baby wasn’t born.

It would be funny if the baby was born on Mother’s Day, my sister said. And then my mother said it, and then my husband said it.

But the baby wasn’t born.

She waited a couple more days and then quietly, determinedly, at a little past midnight on a Tuesday night, she slid seamlessly into our lives.

The first time I went out with her on my own, 14 days later, armed with a stroller and a friend, I didn’t feel like a mother. Pushing a foreign object with a foreign person down the street, I felt like an imposter. Who would believe that I was this child’s mother, when I could barely believe it myself?

In the warm spring sun, we stopped for ice cream. I looked into the stroller, expecting to see a perfectly round, tiny head turned to the side, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. The face that stared back at me was a face that I knew I would never forget – almond shaped eyes gazed at me, observing; mouth closed in contentment. You know, I said silently to myself. You know that I am your mother and that you are safe. You are a wise little creature, and I will commit myself to you.

I will learn from you. I will love you.

My strong, silent infant grew into the silliest, funniest baby that I could have ever hoped might toddle into my life. She flapped her arms in excitement when she saw me, yelled at pigeons from her perch in her stroller or on my hip, and rubbed my arm as she fell asleep, safe in our bed, each night.

Our lives were mapped out in the phases of early childhood – Mummy Do It to Daddy Do It to I Do It; shy and reserved to ambitious but cautious to outgoing and brave. Our boundaries expanded and her world stretched out beyond the circumference of my protective arms.

She outgrew clothes and car seats; diapers and drop-ins. She became a big sister and a big girl literally overnight. She asked for a puppy named Thunderina.

This February, we found ourselves sitting in a classroom, introducing our daughter to the teacher she will have in Kindergarten next fall.

On Monday, she turns four.

She makes me laugh, and if I think about her too much, she makes me cry. Her world is becoming bigger than me, and I’m not sure if I can handle that gracefully. I try to encourage her burgeoning independence as much as I cling, so tightly, so gratefully, to the reminders that she is still so little; that she still needs me.

She still strokes my arm as she falls asleep, and as I brush her hair back from her forehead, I remember the perfect little face I found staring back at me when I peeked into a stroller almost 4 years ago. I allow all the tiny frustrations of motherhood to melt away, as a tear slips from eye and I recount the promise I made to my first-born child.

I will commit myself to you. I will learn from you. I will love you.

I will love you.