For 6 days I did not blog. I did not write anything in fact. I did not check into Facebook everyday, or email. I did not read one blog even. I did read a magazine. A physical one. And lots of kids books. I did not watch TV since baseball and Gossip Girl are not really my thing. I barely took any photos.
What the hell did I do then?
I mothered a whole lot. And cleaned since my step-mom has a spotless house. Two youngins in the house does not make for spic n’ span cleanliness. Not in my world at any rate.
So whereas at home I may let the oatmeal remnants on the table dry or have the dog eat the droppings so as to partake in my morning coffee and blog reading, there I was wiping, rinsing, changing, soaping and loading the dishwasher. All before caffeine. I must really love my step-mom.
One day I decided to take the girls to a local park, not exactly sure where I was headed and without map, phone or family member to guide me. So we walked. And we walked. And we walked some more.
Just as I was muttering about the injustice of kids needing playground time (I was desperate for something to blame), Kaya fell and ripped her tights. Scooping her up, I fight back the tears myself when suddenly the park appeared before us.
But then we had to return home.
Directionless me decides to attempt a short-cut back. It works until I get to the school that I wanted to get to knowing it was close to the house only getting lost once I got there.
Because in Calgary subdivisions, every single f#$%$ street is called the same. And every house looks identical. It is madness. Summerland Manor. Summerland Cres. Summerland Ave. Summerland Boulevard. Summerland Parkway. Summerland Me-Straight-To-The-Loony-Bin…
So I get lost. I am in hell.
“Mommy, that looks like Grampa’s house.”
“Oh, Mom, that’s Grampa’s house.”
“Mommy look! Grampa’s house!”
BECAUSE THEY ALL LOOK LIKE THE SAME FREAKING HOUSE.
Anyways, we make it back but thereafter, Kaya refuses any more park visits. Not unless we are driving there and find parking in the first stall. That has a butler.
We keep busy doing fun things too. We visit a wave pool and though Kaya practically drowns, she practically drowns giggling her ass off so I call that success.
We do some shopping.
We play some pool. We meet my just turned 21-year-old sisters boyfriend whom Kaya will only refer to as ‘The Mohawk Guy!” Can you imagine if he had really died it purple as my sister suggested to get in Kaya’s good books? Instead he plays Mommy and Baby Unicorn Hide-n-Seek with her. Totally won her over. Big time. Especially since her mommy who had a load of time on her hands, still wouldn’t play that bloody role-play game with her.
You know what I did most of all? I observed. One of my favourite things to do. Only this time it is of my family blossoming in their growing relationships. That of grandparent and aunt and sister. Good times.
And you know what I did not do?
Sleep. Because Brennyn was unsettled and disoriented and could not find her damn soothers to put back in. But it was really Kaya that kept me up. She kept ditching her room for mine whereby she took over the bed. I was smacked, rolled on, kicked and tickled. I consoled her after a nightmare. I refrained from evil Kari when she woke up at 3am wanting to talk nonchalantly about her Dora tattoos. I managed not to scream upon Kaya singing K’nan at 5:32am (that is 4:32 our time btw!) waking Brennyn up.
So now we are home. Where oatmeal sits drying on the table and I can go for a run safely without needing a tracking device to find my way home. Where caffeine gets top billing over cleaning, story reading or in-depth discussions on poo. Where Bal can take the girls so I can veg out on the couch and catch up on my recorded TV shows.
Where this veg out time is constantly interrupted by Bal and the girls needing snacks, attention and love. They come barreling in while I am watching Glee and my first instinct is to be annoyed. Only they have better plans for me. Because the only thing better than some quiet time watching Glee with a cup of tea, is watching my girls dressed as Spiderman and a waddling penguin dance to the Rocky Horror Glee Show. Oh yes, that is good stuff right there. I can not stop laughing.
And then they strip their costumes and I have two girly bums in front of me as their bodies hang over the couch and all you can hear is that giggle. Oh that giggle. It kills me!
Annoyance is so far away as I stare at these bums and listen to these giggles and I am so in the moment of love and silliness and joy and gratitude for these girls, for our family that I can barely even hold back that tear that is threatening escape. The teary-mom-moment passes when those bodies, attached to those bums, rise up from their hang, Kaya armed with a Fisher Price Bonking Hammer, and lands a direct hit on Brennyn’s head. Hard. Really damn hard. Bonking, flashing, thudding hard. Miss B surprises me though. She merely grabs her head in mock pain, slyly grins and then unabashedly giggles, knowing she is so very clever and funny pretending she is hurt. Then she grabs the hammer and all I see are two bums again. Running away. Pay back time.
Okay granted, it is not an ideal home. But it is my home. Where inspiration to write, photograph and learn just ooze.
Just as much as the oatmeal.