Sunday, September 9, 2012


I like to keep my 7 followers waiting... sitting on the edges of their seats wondering, "what's going on with Amy these days??!"

Well.. the 7 of you can relax now... I will update you in point form fashion.

I've been on and off and now on again with the old Weight Watchers regime. I am so sick of hating myself and so sick of realizing day after day that I"m a complete hypocrite, telling people to accept where their bodies are "happy" (aka where you don't have to fight to stay at a weight that's 'regular' for you). Meanwhile, when the pants I got when I lost 35lbs feel snug I want to curl up into a ball with a bowl of cookie dough and chocolate and watch Golden Girls and cry myself to sleep. So basically I hate 10lbs of myself and it's pathetic and exhausting.

I've joined a club.. not a book club or a craft club- or some "normal" club a "normal" Mom would join. I've joined a pillow fight club: EastVan PillowFIght Club I love it- and I'm completely terrified of it- all at once. Picture yourself in a 10x10 ring (mats on the floor) face to face with an opponent who is about to beat the shit out of you with a pillow. It's the most exhausting thing I've ever done- seconds at a time I'm literally reliving the exhaustion- and exhilaration of delivering a baby-- okay so the end result-- not the same... but let me tell you.. I sweat more during a pillow fight then I did giving birth.

This club has pushed me way out of my comfort zone- into something unknown to me- something I really have to work hard to be good at... and I'm good- but not that good. I get anxious and excited before every practice because I'm not 100% sure of myself in the ring. This is something I aim to work on in the next while- with the support of the EVPFC ladies and my amazing family (Jay yelling at me to "BLOCK!") Miss Treats is my fighter name. I love her. In theory she's sure of herself and confident with her body. I want to be her in real life.

Abby has started Kindergarten. I'm terrified. During our interview her teacher said, "yep you just drop her off and pick her up again...." I'm thinking, 'in 6 whole hours? you?? One teacher-- with 20 five year olds? who is going to watch her- to make sure no one is mean to her- to make sure she eats her lunch, and washes her hands after using the bathroom, to hold her when she's scared??! WHO!!!!????'. As excited as I am to establish a routine again- and spend some time with just Otis- I am so scared to receive that first phone call saying something has happened at school and I need to get there asap. I didn't picture myself to be a "helicopter parent" but will I be able to fight the urge to pop in and see her at lunch time?

School brings up something else in me that I have been dealing with pretty much since Abby was born. Our economical standing. Our financial situation. The fact that Abby is dressed in mostly handmedowns and clothes my Mom has bought her didn't really used to bother me... that much. However, now she's in school, and I wonder if the kids will notice. Will they make fun of her for wearing runners that aren't $40 Nikes or Adidas?

My heart almost broke the other day when Abby had a friend over; Otis was napping and the friend wanted to play in Abby's room... well since Abby and Odey share a room this wasn't an option... the friend asked where Abby's room was. "Where is your own room? Where is your own bed??" (they have a trundle bed) Abby told her friend they shared which perplexed the friend... and Abby as well.. because when we were alone she asked me when she would have her own room? When will I have my own playroom like my friends and Cailou (that little bald bastard). I felt so sad telling her I didn't have the answer to that question... and reminded her that we were very lucky to have what we have- and I reminded her about the kids at the SafeHouse and how they are at "Mommy's work" because they have no home to go to.... she seemed to take it in stride, but it for some reason has really affected me. I've been down on myself and how we've come to be in this situation simply trying to "keep up" with the latest bikes, toys, ballet classes and outings when we really  plain and simple just cannot afford it. I need to learn this. We will never keep up. Plain and simple we're not financially built for it. This is a blow to my ego. This is my worst fear: failing.

We have been doing some fun family things over the summer including; an awesome family trip to my uncle David's cabin on Mahood Lake... this is a gift my family gives to me. My aunt and uncle share this amazing little piece of heaven with us each year by treating us to not only a beautiful place to stay but delicious meals prepared in a chaotic kitchen filled with laughter. My Mom helps with our kids who cannot wait to go back next year- Abby refers to "uncle 'Da-bid's' cabin" at least every other day- and the fox and frog, the trampoline and swimming in a lake, the tractor and the boat.... We love it there and are so grateful for the gift of being able to go.

We've been on trips to the aquarium and Maplewood Farms which both kids go bananas for. I pack a family picnic so it's no vacation for me-- well going anywhere with kids is not a vacation! It is a weekly treat though to get to spend time together as a full family... Jay and I both struggle with being ships-passing-in-the-night but we believe it is what's best for our kids... though we both agree that winning the lottery would be better. Abby's learned to ride on two wheels- Otis is riding a skateboard and even cursing when he hits something (dammit!) We've gone to Rocky Point to play in the water- which I enjoy when Jay is around because he, being the "fun one", has to get wet and chase the kids while I sit in the sun taking pictures.  Abby has been in a "reading club" and we get to go pick up her medal for reading for 15 minutes for 50 days- she is very excited because it's a purple medal. I hope she got something from the reading- I know I did.

I like to think we are doing our best... but anyone knows that feeling of [your] best not being good enough.. and it sucks. It's the worst. I hate it and I wish it would go away.

Sorry to keep the 7 of you waiting simply so you can see- nothing much has changed with me. My children on the other hand, are growing up and changing so fast I can barely keep up. As exhausted as I am I don't want to miss a minute of it, but sometimes I just need a break. I still feel like I'm suffocating under piles of stuff and there are so many to-dos and all I want to do is catch up on much needed sleep- so I'm basically the same person I was on my last post... I just beat people with pillows now and adhere to a stricter budget.

Friday, March 30, 2012


It's 9:10pm on a Friday night.. I'm not going to lie .. I've been in my jim jams since 3:10pm when we walked in the door from preschool... I kept my bra on until bath time though-- just in case. I am exhausted. I live in 850 sq ft- how can walking back and forth chasing small children be so tiring??! I was thinking today while I swept the kitchen floor for the 900th time- I don't know how stay at home Mommas do it. I'd go bananas. Maybe I'm being selfish- because I also realized that at the very most- I put both my kids to bed three times a week-- and I don't think I even do that.. twice maybe.. but rarely. Part of the reason for that is I work four nights a week- I work out at the gym one night... and one of the other two nights I try to do something that's social- and involves beer... Being at home with these two is no picnic. No way Jose. Though, in the last few days, these two goobers have said and done some stuff that has made me laugh out loud: Eating lunch with Abs and Odey Abby was doing her usual, "I'm Sleeping Beauty- me and my friend Franz (pointing at Otis) are going to my friend Tika's birthday party after this... so we have to hurry up and eat all our lunch so we're not late" M- Oh well that sounds really fun- I wonder if you'll play games at the party? A aka SB "No- I don't think so- my friend has a baby in her belly" M- Really? How old is she turning? SB "40... months" M- Wow! SB "see the baby will be in her belly- and when everyone is singing Happy Birthday the baby will hear it (holding her hand up to her ear cupping it) and then the baby will say, 'oh! it's time for me to come out now!' and sometimes Daddies and Mommies have to sleep at the hospital when the baby comes out- like when you got Odey taken out of your belly and I stayed with Granny" M- How does the baby get out of the Mommy's belly? SB "the doctor takes it out through the belly button" M- Well... that's actually not how it goes. SB "how does it go then??" M- Well... the Mommy has to push the baby out-- through her vagina. SB "Ohhhh well then okay, the baby will come swimming out of the Mommy's vagina and everyone will say "yaaaaaaaaaaay" and then keep singing Happy Birthday- and it will be my friend Tika's baby's birthday too!" M- Wow... sounds like quite the party! SB "I know Mommy- I'm sorry- me and Franz have to go- we don't want to miss anything" Ha. Seriously. Throughout this whole talk- Otis, or Franz if you will, nodded his head and said, "ya ya.. doooooood (good)" and mimicked everything his big sister did. That was one of many hilarious conversations I had with Abby. It is also important to note that she told me to cough into my arm because I was getting germs all over her and that I make grunting noises when I exercise and it's weird- but I now apparently have "nice muscles"- thanks for noticing babe- I'm working hard over here every morning nap. She also referred to me as "super artist Mommy" while we worked on some Easter presents- all because I could work the glitter glue. I am amazeballs. As Otis doesn't talk as much.. or at all really other than "big truck!" at everything bigger than our car- and "hiiiiiiii" to every single person that walks by- I have been privy to his amazing let's-get-er-done mannerisms. This child knows what he wants.. and until he gets it... does. not. stop. He will pitch a fit by screaming, stomping, kicking and throwing... and yes-- he's only just 18 months... if he gets any bigger Momma's going to have to start wearing a helmet. Otis is a bit sicky- by that I mean that he has constant rancid runny poop the colour of sand- tmi? You're lucky this blog doesn't have a scratch n sniff option. With is sickness he's been a complete Momma's boy.. which is nice when he wants to cuddle- not so nice when I'm trying to use the washroom or while I'm cooking dinner with him literally attached to my thigh. Today in a bit of a tizzy I sat on the kitchen floor and invited him into my lap- he does this thing when he 'backs up on it' and walks backward until he hits my lap- then he plops in.. he snuggled into me with his softy blankey and made his little whiney sound... I was crunching a celery- which of course he wanted... so he could take bites of it, go "pssshffffft" and spit it into his hand and feed it to me... you know what? I ate the whole celery pre-chewed... and I don't even care-- I got to sit down and the whining stopped...for a few minutes. So while I may not want to spend 24 hours a day in pure mayhem- I am so grateful for the time I do spend with them... because at the end of an exhausting day- when it's quiet- I find myself peeking in on them- and man, they're even more cute when they're asleep- and silent.

Monday, March 26, 2012


P.S. Young person I'm so sorry. Words cannot even describe how my heart breaks for you- and I can't tell you enough time that this is not your fault. If I could go back in time I would change it- but that wouldn't be right either- this is going to be a part of who you are... and at this time of crisis all I can do is sit and wait for you to choose your path and watch how you deal with this... and hope you're supported enough. I hope you're clarity and strength carries you- and at the same time I hope you understand that you don't always have to be strong... you have been a hero- now you can be a human. Thank you for asking for a hug- thank you for sharing your grief. Thank you for making me feel human.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Dear Young Person,

Dear Young Person,

I'm sitting here across from you and my heart is breaking.
I don't know how you ended up here- you keep asking but I don't have the answer to that question. I can't even tell you that it gets easier as you get older- because it really doesn't... though I guess it does get easier to make better choices because you tend to learn from your mistakes... and as life tries to fuck with you- my hope is that the resilience you have inside you that's gotten you this far- will win the battles thrown your way.
The truth is, and I know it's not positive and uplifting: "life is hard- and it's not fair"
It's not fair that you slept in a stairway last night- it's insane. It's not fair that your parent abandoned you- it's not fair that your parent is choosing a girlfriend or boyfriend-- or dog-- over you. It's insane. You're not perfect... but you're worth much more than that.
That being said, maybe your parents are at home- worried sick about you- calling all those people you call your "friends" only to discover no one knows where you are- no one has seen you... maybe your time here- meeting some of the other young people here- will help you realize that things at home aren't so bad- sure your parents are lame- but at least they love you- and they love you enough to tolerate your teenage bullshit that they want you to come back home.
You tell me stories that make my heart cry... that make me want to reach across and hold your hand- or hug you- and tell you it's going to be okay. I see the hurt on your face, sadness in your eyes, hear the desperation in your voice- and I wish I could take it all away for you.
You say you want to be 10 years old again- when things were better- when you were a little kid... before you started smoking weed- and drinking- before you ended up in treatment for heroin at age 15. You show me pictures of that untainted past- before something changed- before the road turned dark and dangerous- a time when you didn't have to care what people thought of you- there was no pressure to be cool or badass- because you were 10. You show me pictures of when you got out of treatment the first time- so proud of the actual weight you carried on your tired bones- the healthy lifestyle you led-- until again- the road became tangled with obstacles and barriers.
You're back here again- and it feels like no one believes in you. I do. I see glimpses of you being a normal teenager. I hear your jokes- and I get to see you smile- if only for a moment-- and that makes me believe in you. I know, young person, you feel like giving up- like the world is against you- there are situations where that's just simple teenage angst- but there are those of you where, even from my perspective, it seems like the world is against you. Don't. Stop. Fighting.
You can do it. You have a plan- through all this you're learning about yourself- you have clarity some of my adult friends lack- you have a self awareness, that just listening to you, makes me feel almost zen-like. You know what works- and what doesn't- most of the time- but making those choices isn't so easy when you're fighting for basic survival- and you can't beat yourself up. You can accept the choices you've made that have gotten you here- and try not to make them again. You can accept help- you can ask for more help... but Don't. Stop. Fighting.
My job is to be an advocate. Not every youth breaks my heart- trust me. Not every youth inspires me... but enough of them do. Sometimes I want to shake the youth- and other times I want to shake their parents or their social workers. I want to tweak the "system" so it stops circling around and around- I want to speed it up- so when these young people are at that point where they're ready to make the change- the window for change is open- and they can move through it...
I have learned a lot. Looking back at events in my own life I'm glad the people I love moved around the obstacles and over the barriers- I'm glad I did. It's not instantaneous- not even close but I try hard to live without regret- and just accept that every choice can't be a good one- and those mistakes are to be learned from. I'm glad someone believed in me- and I'm happy to be the person who believes in so many.
Young person, you are much stronger than you think, the fact is, you're alive. Now come back and visit us here when you've won this next battle life is throwing at you- tell us about your victory--- bring pictures of you now- smiling. Continue to inspire. I believe you can do it.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Trying to Love Myself.

I was recently so lucky to spend an evening out with the infamous Team Vag! Three of my friends with whom I spent almost the entire time I was single- celebrating being a woman- an independent woman- okay so we mostly drank mojitos, went shopping and shared secrets- but they are memories I will never forget and always hold tight too...
On our night out I noticed something. All of us- every single one of us- had not one nice thing to say about ourselves. It is easy for me to tell my friends how beautiful they are- it's true. Physically they're knock outs- with skin, smiles, and curves people would kill for they're amazing.... but each one of them had a myriad of complaints about their bodies.... and I sure wasn't standing there thinking that my body is perfect- in fact- far from it.
We change... we change as people: evolve. It's only natural that with our lifestyle changes or maybe better put, LIFE changes, that our bodies will change too. Part of it is simple science... you grow older and your skin loosens, your metabolism slows down... hey man- you can't go out partying every night and get up for work the next day simply by shaking it off with a greasy breakfast?? Not. Fair. The other part is I think- for a second, being comfortable with yourself as a woman: I can remember us taking a thousand photos a night- and feeling good about what we saw in those photos.. confident in ourselves- in love with our smiles or our boobs or whatever... the other night there lacked that relaxed feeling about our appearance- and maybe it is back to simple science- as we age we feel the need to compete with younger women- who to us, appear more fresh and beautiful and tight/slim.... Anyway, with the comfort we feel- for that second- we can relax- also with the aid of finding a mate who loves you for who you are as a person rather than your cup size comes the ability to love yourself- don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to say "someone has to love you before you can relax and love yourself and be comfortable with who you are" but let's face it- it helps to know that someone loves you and plans to spend their live with you... that love helps let you put your guard down...
I don't really know what I'm getting at. Personally my body has changed so much after having my kids- and every single day I struggle with those changes. I don't give a shit how many people tell me I grew, nourished and birthed two beautiful children- I live with them- I KNOW that... but I miss my tits. I miss my flat stomach- I miss not having stretch marks over my entire midsection. I am, slimer and more fit now than I've been since high school-- but you know where that comes from- it comes from a complete lack of confidence in my appearance and a hatred for the physical appearance of my body. It did not start from a healthy place. Insecurity is a real bitch.
Now- with running- starting that Dance Bootcamp class- and most recently- and I think most importantly, starting to work out with a trainer- and doing what I've learned in the gym at home- I have decided that I want my body to be strong- I want my body to match my spirit... to match my determination to tell life to "fuck off and I'll deal with it" Sure, sometimes I'm a total wuss and I cry and whine about my situation-- but I don't want to cry and whine about my body anymore. I want to love it. I want to love what it's been through and I want to love where it's going. I want to love it through the transformation I'm putting it through- and I want to love it for a long time. I want to be healthy.
I'm not there yet- I don't think I'm even close. It's SO easy to pick apart every little thing about yourself.. and I don't want it to be that easy for me. I know I'll never be happy with everything about myself- and I think that's sick- thanks society for making me aware I now have wrinkles and my stretch marks are unacceptable....
These photos I had taken by Anita Alberto found here and here I think have changed my life. I look at these photos and sure- I can still tell you what I don't like.. but more importantly I can tell you what I love. I love my eyes, my skin, my waist:hip ratio. I can tell you I've been working hard and I love the changes my body is going through. I can tell you I appreciate myself for not being shy- and standing around in my underwear- I can tell you I think I look beautiful.
Maybe it is vain. I don't think the world has ever been a place where appearances don't come into play at some point... I want to get to a point where I'm not competing with everyone else- but rather doing something just for myself... I'm getting closer. Closer to not caring what the world thinks- but it's hard. It's so hard.
I think every person needs a photo they love of themselves. Something they can look at on a shitty day and think, "wow: I'm amazing" During this photo shoot I was so shy at first... half a bottle of pink champagne and one of my best friends with me- I was so timid... but Anita made me feel beautiful- strong- confident. I think this is one of the most empowering things I've ever done.. and I want to do it again...
The other night it got to a point where I made the girls toast: toast to loving themselves for who they are- and a toast to not being nasty to themselves anymore. We all failed- but we tried... and now one of us simply has to remind the others when they say something bad: "remember the toast". I want my friends to do this. All of my friends. I want you to have something that makes you feel beautiful.. I don't care if it's vain, I really don't. I think it's important... we all know we're good humans- very few of us recognize that we're beautiful humans.
Thank you Anita.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Falling Down

You know when you wake up and think, "This is it. This is the day I'm going to lose my shit 'Falling Down'" style and most likely end up in jail... you know those days?? What? you don't?? Oh.. you must not be a mother.
I know, another post about motherhood- but it's not... really.
I've recently scored a run of shifts that take me to work Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday from 4pm-12am- awesomesauce! I've had the weekends off for a little over a month and it's been so sweet! I've seen people, seen the outside world, drank beer!
By Wednesday night I'm so done... when you think that I get home from work at 12:30am at the earliest and Otis wakes at 6:30am.. and it takes me around an hour to "wind down" I'm not sleeping much- this is where the "Falling Down" feeling comes in. Usually I'm fueled by coffee and the cuteness of my children- but some mornings their insane behaviour is too much for me to remember that they're actually cute and I really do love them... remember 4-5 hours of sleep- never in a row- as I have to get up with someone for something during those few hours (scary bad guys, lost my binky, just feel like playing) isn't the best mix with one of them playing in the toilet while the other drops berries and toast all over the floor- oh- and finding a giant cat poop during this madness also doesn't help....
Thursday is a whole new day- even though I've had the same amount of sleep I don't have to rush around making breakfast, lunch and dinner all before 2pm. I can take my time- it's luxurious!
By Thursday night at 5:30pm when Jay walks in the door- I'm ready for a break. The luxury of taking my time often translates to "it's taken forever to do anything- with "help" from the kids- and I haven't gotten much accomplished" and I feel like a dog chasing its tail... So I usually jet out for something- the last couple of weeks it's been to the gym to meet with my friend and our gym guy- or for a run-- sometimes I "need" something from the store...
All of this panic and claustrophobia makes me feel like a bad parent. Like maybe I should have waited to have kids until I could be settled, and sit still for five minutes....
Then I think back and realize- I've never been able to sit still. Sure I could lie in bed hungover and eat chips while watching terrible reality shows-- but I'd never stay there. True that I'd stay there longer than the five minutes I get here to be be hungover in bed (I'm not hungover all the time so shush!) but I still wouldn't ever just lie around all day. My mom recently suggested Jay and I go to a hotel for a night- and to be honest, just the thought of that gave me anxiety- weird I know- not being alone with my husband of course, that sounds amazeballs... but the morning... sleeping past 7am- not having anything "to do"... at times that sounds great- but when she suggested it I kind of panicked thinking, "I have so few days off- never a day off to myself- what the hell would I do? I don't want to waste it sleeping??!" I guess it's contradictory- all of my feelings are these days- and I think that's what makes me wonder if I should have waited to have kids- my feelings are so mixed-- not about having the kids now- of course I wouldn't trade them for the world-- I mean, if you're on facebook you've seen the 600 pictures I post of them- they're cute! But I guess what I'm trying to say is, there are more things in a day that I want to do then just be "a mother"
Everything I do- I'm a "mother" doing those things... like at my Dance Bootcamp so many people have said to me, "I can't believe you're a Mom" or when I play baseball I'm a "mother" who plays ball- or when I go shopping I definitely feel like a "mother"-- mostly because nowadays I can't be bothered to try clothes on I'd rather just look for cute stuff for the kids- but also because I like so many clothes but wonder could my "mother" self wear this super sparkly shirt? I don't resent being a Mom while I do all these things- I think it makes me feel stronger- like I'm a "mother" who MAKES time to exercise, and socialize and be alone- but when I hear that my husband has told my Mom that "he couldn't pay me to stay home with him and the kids" I get so sad-- and wonder "is that true?" and of course it's not true- but there are so few hours in a day and I spend all 24 of them being a Mom- that I need to spend a few of them, a few times a week being a "Mom who does other things".
Does any of this make sense? Probably not- my writing has been interrupted numerous times while I helped Abby make cards- and when I popped back on to write more as I thought Otis was helping her-- I had to pop back off after learning he had pushed a chair to the counter to eat an entire spice jar full of cinnamon-- diaper changes and snuggas- I'm currently getting my hair done by a little lady by the name of Sleeping Beauty whose cell phone is apparently ringing-- Odey is blow drying his hair with a TinkerBell blow dryer and I am hoping when I'm done writing here I'll go into the kitchen and it will be clean....
I guess my point is-- I am a "Mom" which I love. I love the adventure of every day being the same but different- as in they do and say new things every day and it's hilarious and pride inducing- the same as in we have our routine--I am a Mom who loves to cuddle and snugga and teach and also learn from my kids... but I'm also a "Mother" who chooses do to other things- for her non-Mother- and also my Mother self... because at times I feel like I'm being really selfish and I feel so guilty-- but I think that without being selfish I would definitely be "Falling Down".
I had my kids when I did because I met a man who was meant to be a father- and who loves me so dearly- and would do anything for me- I had kids when I did because I felt ready- no one can prepare you for the changes- life altering- I realize that no amount of waiting would change who I am... someone who needs a little space, something to own as mine, someone who maybe is a little selfish- time wouldn't change those things- I think I will always wonder, that selfish being inside me will always wonder if I was meant to have kids- if I'm patient enough, loving enough, teaching enough, etc... but the "Mother" in me will reassure those other parts that I'm only human... and doing my best is enough- that sounds "Motherly" doesn't it? See- I was meant to do this- even on those "Falling Down" days- I always get back up- because who needs to sleep anyway?

Saturday, January 14, 2012

The Counter.

You know how people "check in" at places on Facebook? Like so and so checked in at wherever with another so and so... I never use that thing because I rarely go anywhere interesting- just work, preschool, the grocery store and the gym... BUT if I was to use that thing... I'd be checking in at "the counter"
I am pretty sure I spend about 75% of my day standing at the kitchen counter. Starting at 7:00 am when I'm making my coffee- I'm back at 7:20 to make Otis' breakfast, then back again at 8:00 to make Abby's... back there again at 8:10 for my 2nd cup of coffee-- and then again at 8:30 (providing both kids have pooped) to make my own breakfast... why do I wait until they've pooped? Because honestly it's really shitty (pun intended) to finally have time to sit and eat your own food and have it be interrupted by a "mommmmmmmmm come wipe my bum!" or the smell of rotting sewage walking around and trying to sit on your lap...
Once I'm done my breakfast... I do the dishes- still technically the counter.. then it's Otis' nap time and time for me to run/workout... good times!! So I'd check in at "the garage". When I'm all done there I'll have a quick shower, get Otis up.. and yup- you guessed it- check back in at "the counter" where I will make Otis lunch, Abby something different... and place them in their seats to eat-- while I madly try to make myself something healthy to keep up with my revisit to weight watchers... then.. still at the counter I eat. Standing up... or I simply won't get to eat because as soon as I sit Otis will want up and onto my lap etc... so that's how that goes.. Transitioning once again back to another place at "the counter" I now wash the lunch dishes.
After preschool or whatever little outing we take- it's snack time... so I check back in at "the counter" to make snacks.. this is a short check in mind you.. I get about an hour before I'm right back there making dinner-- with small children this can take some time- and it can be torturous when they try to get close by standing on my feet. I swear, and I've said this before, the feet of small children, though cute and soft and they don't even stink, should be used as a form of torture during times of war... their skin gripping my foot skin and dragging down- pointy little bones jutting into me! AGH!
Once Jay walks in the door it's dinner time- waste not- because I have to check back in at "the counter" to clean up! Thankfully dinner is worth it- I mean meals are worth it-- but it's a pain in the ass. I feel like there should be a path where I walk back and forth back and forth back and forth all day long....
I try my best to be prepared- to spend as little time at the counter as possible- because in this house it's not pristine and clear- it has a bowl of junk and little pieces that someone is saving for somehting or to put back on "that thing" it came off of- there's knives pushed way back and treats hidden behind the coffee maker so the Gremlins only see them when they're whipped out as a surprise.. there's cut marks and stains and sometimes even half eaten apples and bananas- which is par for the course with my little grazing children. It's that 70's countertop- like melamine or something- with orange and yellow flowers- some of my friends call it retro- I think it's ugly as shit...
I guess that messy, chaotic counter represents family life- bits and pieces- war wounds and scraps of food... little treasures and treats hidden behind the maddess. It's the place where I prepare the meals that bring my family together-- even if one of us has to stand at eat at "the counter" we're still all in the same room- talking, sharing, feeling the love....