Let's try something different:

Now, I wrote this a little while ago, thinking I would start a new blog. I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen because I can't even keep up with this one. The result: a blend. Here's some new material that takes a slight turn from the kids. Slight. It's still about us.

This is a little snippet of why I do this.

In short, because moms are funny. We all think we want to be Mother of the Year, but really, that’s just one more thing to dust. In reality, we just work hard to get through some days without losing all sanity. Some days we do it and think our lives are blessed and thank God for our children. Others, we put them to bed and down a bottle of Merlot before not putting the laundry away. That is, if we’ve made it to the bottle before falling asleep in a single bed with a Hot Wheels comforter.

When I say moms are funny, here’s what I mean. We all have a story to tell that all other moms know, but we all tell it in a different way. Here’s an example.

I run with my neighbours who have kids much the same age as mine. We’re all doing it for different reasons: mine are for anger management, theirs are health and wellness. The bottom line is that it gets us out of the house almost 3 nights a week. The runs start out at the end of my driveway with a “hello” and how was your day. Here’s how Emily (I'm changing names until I talk to her about posting this) answered me the other day.

“Oh, well. You know.” Sigh. Slightly embarrassed giggle.

“Do tell.”

“We had swimming lessons today with the girls. They love swimming. Amanda is old enough that she can go in by herself and Emma just loves it. Usually, I love taking them. Today, I did NOT love taking them.

“As soon as we got into the pool, Emma had to go to the bathroom. Of course, when Emma has to go, I have to take Amanda out as well. So, we slop over to our towels.” We all know that 5 seconds in a pool is enough to ruin a towel so that when we eventually get out for real, all of the towels are FREEZING because they are soaking wet.

“I had a Dora towel with a hood for Emma. Amanda tells her that it’s a baby’s towel. Emma will no longer use the Dora towel. We are standing there dripping, Emma has to pee, but she won’t use the towel, so she’s crying and doing the ‘I have to pee’ dance, while Amanda is giving her that little smirk that only an older sister can give while she’s wrapped in her ‘big girl’ towel. I had to give Emma my towel to get her to the bathroom before we have to deal with a ‘fouling.’

“After we get through the bathroom incident, we go to our lessons which, by this time are more than half over. When we’re done, we have to go through the whole towel thing again and in the end I am left standing on the deck freezing my ass off in a fucking Dora towel while both the kids are crying because I yelled at them.

“You know what’s the worst part about this story?” By this time I’m trying really hard not to laugh, which is kind of easy because we’re going up a hill and I have to concentrate on not passing out.

“What’s that?”

“When it was all over, it was only 11:00am.