I have nothing entertaining to say. Luckily I have a 5 year old who never stops talking. Ever.

"She lives over there. You can tell by her going that way."

"*sigh* Would you please take this seriously Eden? We're surrounded by monsters here!"

"I had an adult dream last night. I don't think it was appropriate for my age. It was just a bunch of stupid grown-up stuff. You probably would have thought it was funny, but I didn't really get it."

beware: sentimentality and TMI ahead.

So like I said, my baby is 2. She is not, in fact, a baby anymore. Gone is the floppy squooshyness, the immobility, the need to remain in the vicinity of my boobs at all times, the sling sleeping, the quiet complacency, the gummy smile, the chubby thighs and the soft bald head. These things have been replaced by skinned knees, long, skinny arms and legs, dirty fingernails, scruffy hair, a chipped tooth, a rapidly growing and increasingly hilarious vocabulary and some world-class hugging and cuddling skills. She is well on her way to being a real person. The second amazingly complete and perfect person to be hacked together from pieces of me and Adam.
Two human beings seems like a pretty staggering accomplishment to me, so we're done...I think.
Another baby is just not feasible for us. We're broke. We are crammed into a tiny apartment, quite literally on top of each other most of the time. I want to go back to school. Adam wants a better job. We want to travel. We want to boot our kids out of the house by the time we're in our early 40's...

Still, permanent measures seem a bit extreme. We're young and practical enough to know that we're not ready for the big snip. If anything should happen to me, Adam would likely find a new chick who still wanted kids, etc. So last week I went to get a Mirena IUD installed (implanted? inserted? there's really no good way to say it.)

Do you know one of the worst things about small town life? It's not the lack of amenities, the isolation, the inconvenience or even the smell; it's the fact that you only have one doctor. People in cities have pediatricians, family doctors, podiatrists and chiropractors. They have proctologists, naturopaths, obstetricians and dermatologists. Most importantly, they have gynecologists. In small towns the doctor who treated your croup when you were three is very likely the same doctor who gives you a pap smear. You have to talk to the same guy about your kid's foot fungus who told your mom you had Mono.

So here I am, waiting for this guy to come in and insert some hardware up my hoo-ha. Hoping to God there will be no chitchat, while the nurse does the preliminary work on which the doctor doesn't waste his valuable time. Inevitably she asks:

"When was your last menstrual period?"
"First week of June."
"Uum, Honey? Do you know what day it is."
"Yes, yes it's the middle of July, I know. But really, this is totally normal for me. 6ish weeks is my usual."
"It's more like 8ish."
"...(mental math) hmm. Still...I really don't think..."
"You're supposed to get these in the first week after."
"Someone should probably have told me that. Anyway, Doc was on vacation. Can you run a quick test?"
"Sure, but if you got pregnant in the last week or two it won't show up yet. I'm not sure if the Doc will do it at this point."
"I really don't think..."
"Is it at all possible?"
"Well...there's always a slight possibility."

I waited, they conferred. Questions were asked on all sides and in the end we decided to go ahead with the procedure and if Aunt Flo didn't come to visit in the next week or two I was to get me to the nearest drug store for a test and if need be we'd yank out the IUD. Because while I'm all about the prevention, I'm not interested in killing anyone who might already be living in there, nor yet causing any strange and terrible mutations by having hypothetical Junior develop with a hormonal IUD clenched in his little fist. Finally I was bare arsed and be-stirruped and staring at the ceiling in the attitude of nonchalant mortification common to women the world over. Then it was done.

I went home. I waited. I thought. I got to visit the same damn Doctor 3 days later when I took my mom to the ER after she threw out her back.

I hoped, for two completely different things:

-I can barely handle the two kids I have sometimes, I don't want more!
-A boy might be nice, for a change.
-We can't afford it.
-People make do with less, and you already have most of the baby stuff.
-I want to dedicate my attention to the girls I already have.
-Never again to feel the liquid acrobatics of a baby in your belly?
-What right do we have to keep bringing people into this uncertain world?
-Tiny, fuzzy head nuzzled, sleeping on your chest.
-There's no room in this house.
-No more first baths? First steps? First giggles?
-I want to go back to school.
-A tiny little bottom that fits perfectly in the palm of your hand?
-I'll be working at fucking Macs forever!
-Shopping for tiny onesies, fluffy diapers and wee little shoes?
-Putting three children through school?
-Seeing the world through completely new eyes again?
-The crying, The whining.
-The toothless smiles, the totally unrestrained laughs?
-The LABOUR?
-The contentment on a tiny face feeding at your breast while a small hand plays idly with your hair?
-The very real fear of insanity and depression?
-The chance to pick out the perfect name?
-I'm not a good enough mother. I don't deserve any more.
-The chance to watch a new person grow?

For a week I waited. And finally it happened. I am NOT pregnant. And, for the most part, I'm glad. We're done. For the next 5 years anyway. By which time my kids will be 7 and fucking 10(!!!) years old. And I most definitely won't want to start over with all the baby crap then right? Right?

The most amazing 2 years of my life.

Shortly after midnight, July 16 2007.

Shortly after midnight, July 16 2009

Happy Birthday Eden Ariana.

Evil genius in training.

We were playing in the front yard when the phone rang.
"Goober, could you watch your sister for a sec? Just make sure she stays right here on the porch, OK?"
"Yep, I sure can."
"I'll be right back."
A minute later I came back outside to find Skylar quietly skooting around in a ride-on car and Eden...nowhere.
"Skylar, where's Eden?"
"She went that way." *pointing down the sidewalk beyond our house*
Note- Five years is too young to babysit. Who knew?
Ah, yes. That way. The way that leads to the park. The way that leads to the pool where my not quite two year old likes to jump off the diving board. The way that leads to Main Street.
I leaped across the lawn to the sidewalk and saw her nearing the end of the block.
"EDEN, STOP!"
She turned around and looked at me. Then squealed with delight before charging blindly across a residential street. Now she's running as fast as her pigeon toed little baby feet will take her, arms waving erratically in the air, towards the only really busy street in town. But I'm running too, and my legs are longer. She looks back over her shoulder and realizes she doesn't stand a chance.
Oh, shit. Here comes Mom and she looks pissed. What to do? What to do? I've got it!
She stops dead and turns toward me. Then she opens her blue eyes to their full round capacity and spreads her little arms up in the air as she calls out:
"MAMA, HUG?"
I defy anyone to spank that.

mini vaycay

HI! It's been a while, I know. Been busy. Lots to do. Also, I'm lazy and easily distracted.

Sooo...where were we? Father's day. Right. On that day we dumped our adorable children at Adam's parents place to celebrate with their Papa and we hightailed it to Niagara Falls.

It had occurred to us (Me) that not once in seven years had the two of us gone away for a weekend. We've gone to visit friends or camp out with old buddies or gone our separate ways for a few days now and then, but never actually spent a child-free weekend alone together. I felt it was time to remedy this omission, if only out of morbid curiosity as to whether or not we still had the capacity to get along without the prop of day-to-day life.

So, yes. Niagara Falls, where we enjoyed the most fantastical hotel room our poor, lower-class eyes had ever beheld. With floor to ceiling windows around two walls overlooking both the Canadian and American falls, a king sized bed which we tried out within minutes of walking through the doors and a jacuzzi big enough for the two of us and a bottle of wine.

Fireworks at Niagara Falls. I was going to delete this picture, cause it's boring, but Adam said not to because:
"Look at all those Orbs!"
"Orbs?"
"You know, that's how ghosts look in photographs."
"Uum, we're at Niagara freaking Falls. I think that's caller Water."
"Maybe lots of ghosts decide to come here before they cross over."
"Unfortunate to come on a fireworks night then. Just imagine! Hey, don't go towards the lights! They buuurrnnnn!"

The next day we went to Wonderland and rode the kick-ass new roller coaster: Behemoth ( I highly recommend it, as a roller coaster aficionado) and generally had all the fun that theme parks can provide when you don't bring along kids to whine and complain about standing in line, and get tired and throw fits when they're too short to get on the good rides, and throw more fits because they want some over-priced crap that you'll then have to carry around for the rest of the day, and fall asleep, and slather with sunscreen, and demand to be carried, and beg for ice cream, and throw up the ice cream, and why the hell do they allow children in amusement parks anyway?

We spent that night at what turned out to be a university residence rented out as a hotel for the summer. Less grand yes, but dude, we had a microwave!

Then off to Wasaga Beach for relaxing in the sun. Which was pretty much all we could do there since the water was frigid and filled with some nasty yellow plant-life or sewage spill residue (we debated which it might be and decided we didn't really want to swim anyway) and the entire tourist district burned down a year or two ago and hasn't quite been rebuilt yet.

Then we came home, collected our offspring and enjoyed the first week of summer vacation by: Attending swimming lessons with Skylar. Going to work. Babysitting a crippled dog. Turning 24 and 26, respectively. Playing the wii my mom got us for our birthdays (thanks Mom! p.s. my mom doesn't read this). Filling a kiddie pool in the back yard. Trying to find a teenage babysitter (no luck whatsoever, know anyone?) and going to see UP, which I found hilarious but my kid found by turns terrifying and sad, except for the part about the squirrel, that she liked.



Fun in our own backyard. Happy Canada Day!