Seriously.

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.

PS

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.

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.