It’s been a busy day of updates, with lots new on Durham Region Kids!

• foodblog: Good for the Family Granola
• expert columnist: Divorce options
• giveaway: Personalized lunch box and labels from Stuck on You

We’re taking the next two days off to get ready for Lucy starting school next week (hair cut and new clothes, here we come!). The summer has slipped by, and I need some Mumma time with my girls before life changes all over again in a week. There is never anything constant with kids, is there?

Enjoy, and have a great long weekend with your kids big and small!

Stinky Bunny is currently her favourite.

Her name is Alice, and she’s a hoarder. A blanket-stuffies hoarder.

Every time we leave the house, she tries to bring Stinky Bunny (named because she sucks on her nose and ears and the bunny stinks like Alice spit). Or a blanket, which she calls deh-deh. When I pick her up from daycare, she chatters away about some stuffie or blankie, pointing and trying to nonchalantly bring it home. Which is hilarious, because at a stumpy (but sturdy!) 22 months, almost every stuffie and blankie is larger than her.

This is new to us. Not the attachment, but how young Alice is to be attached. Lucy was over 3 before she really picked up on Cold Blankie.

At night, she shoves five to seven of her “guys” through the crib bars into bed with her, invariably chucks them over the side, whines about it, then falls asleep. We can predict her quietness around this schedule. She stuffs them in Barbie cars, dances them on our legs (“do, do, do, do, dooooooo!”) and tries to feed them (“num, num, num!”)

The love is voracious and passionate and LOUD lest you try to keep them apart. It’s adorable and comforting and sometimes exasperating.

But that is our Alice.

pink baby burritos

I am getting Alice ready for her afternoon nap. She keeps patting my chest, saying “buh-bye” to me before she goes to bed.

The fun and games end, though, when she grabs a chunk of boob through my t-shirt and bra and pinches.

“OUCH!” I roar. “Alice, don’t DO that. It hurts Mumma.”

Alice is instantly apologetic, rubbing the spot, “Saah-ft. Saah-ft.”

Lucy casually pops her head in the door, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

“Yeah, Alice, be careful. They might deflate.”

*sigh* Already done, girlfriend, already done.

A year ago, to the trepidation and cautious excitement of my family and friends, I gained a business partner.

This week, Kirsty and I got the keys to an office, and have been painting and cleaning like crazed bees for the past three days (thus the quietness around here).

What a year. We now publish a monthly community magazine in my hometown, build websites, social media training & graphic design and of course Durham Region Kids.

I’ve never been more terrified or excited in my life. I feel like I did on the cusp of labour with my girls: scared, hopeful, excited, worried, elated…and the most exhausted I’ve been since the newborn days!

Much is revolving around this office. We hope more organization, more ideas, more continuity, downtown exposure, professionalism, time saving, more projects. Eric is in the background screaming, “AND MORE MONEY! MONIES WOULD BE NICE!” ‘Cause no matter what they say, holyhannah being self employed really only pays around 10 cents/hour.

But how many of us can say we love our jobs? Are truly doing what they want to do? A year ago, I was contemplating going to work at a golf course filling divets just to bring some money in but still be close to my girls. Tomorrow I will drive to my very own place of employment and do incredibly fulfilling work with the only woman I’ve ever met who so passionately and clumsily and successfully attacks projects and life in the same way I do. Maybe even, eventually, for 20 CENTS/hour.

I hope all of you, in some measure, are doing what you love. Even if it’s only in a hobby form for now. As my good friend and motivator Corrie keeps saying to me on our morning walks: You can’t get to the top of the mountain by standing at the bottom.

If you’ve tried and have not won,
Never top for crying.
All that’s good and great is done,
Just by patient trying.

If by easy work you win,
Who the more will prize you?
Gaining victory from defeat,
That’s the test that tries you.
-poem I learned as a kid and randomly recite in my head each week

They say that after seven years together, couples get the seven year itch.

_______________

Tonight. Girls in a MOOD. Post-weekend crabiness. Lucy got a time out for *ppplbt*ing at me after I told her to stop colouring for dinner. Alice grabbed at the hot stove, emptied three kitchen drawers and pitched the HUGEST tantrum (at my feet in front of said hot stove among the contents of said drawers) when I refused to dole out another cup of milk.

(Now I’M in a mood. And yelly.)

I call Eric my wind of calm. He arrives home from work, and the chaos almost instantly alleviates. The girls are distracted by him, there’s one more set of hands to headlock handle dinner battles, and his patience is fresh from his drive home…and untainted by 1.5 hours of 2-under-5 (years)-around-5 (p.m.) drama.

We get through the girls’ dinner. We go see my new office space, yelling at each other over Lucy and Alice screeching, giggling, tripping and throwing drywall dust in the air. We grab Thai as a treat to eat after the girls are in bed.

And when they are, we literally collapse on the couch, plates on our lap, to watch some trashy TV. We grin in the triumph of silence.
________________________

He calls me a donkey. I pretend to stab his ear with kitchen scissors. He makes fun of my canning (“Glad we’re all stocked for the long, harsh winter with our NINE JARS OF RELISH AND PICKLES.”) and I his taste (“How can you tell if that melon is rotten when your claim to fame is once eating sour milk on cereal for three days?“).

We like to wrestle. He hates spit so I always lick him and win.

_________________________

Seven years ago at this time, we were tipsy on love, Jackson Triggs dry white wine, and the most perfect wedding ever surrounded by family and friends.

My Eric: Thanks for keeping all my itches scratched. Happy anniversary.