Breathe, Baby, breathe.

Haven slept through the night last night. I usually get up once a night, sometimes twice, and I don't mind; yeah, it interrupts my sleep, but there's a lot of reassurance knowing that she's alright during the wee hours. 


I'm no different than any other Mom. I've stood outside my children's rooms, straining to hear their breathing, knowing that if I go into the room to make sure they're alright, I will wake them up, but unable to stop myself. I just need reassurance that they are still breathing.

When Sonja and I got up this morning at 6.20am, Haven was still asleep. I knew I shouldn't go in there, I knew she would wake up on her own, but the fact that I hadn't gone to her in the night was gnawing on me. All the usual thoughts were racing through my mind and they all lead to the same fear: What if she's not OK?

Sonja was anything but quiet when we went into the bedroom and I figured that by the time I looked into the crib, Haven would be starting to sit up. So when I saw her lying on her tummy, her face turned away, the pale light in the room making her look equally pale, the surge of adrenaline hit me like a bomb. I stopped breathing. I stopped moving. I stared. I waited. Fifty thousand terrible, horrendous thoughts ran through my head. Move, Haven. Move, Baby. Move.

Sonja was squealing with excitement, saying something about wanting to get into Haven's crib. My mouth opened, nothing came out, I took a breath through my open mouth, and finally Haven moved. Finally. The whole moment couldn't have been more than three seconds.

I know I'll never get past this fear of my children dying in their sleep. Sonja's over three-years old and I still go in and check on her in the night. If she sleeps past 7am, I'm officially worried. Again, I'm no different than any other Mom and this is a story we can all relate to, one we've all experienced in one form or another. But knowing that doesn't make it any less intense, any less real when the fear strikes.

As I plucked Haven from her crib, my hands were trembling. Hell, I was trembling all over; shaking like a leaf, as they say. As I kissed Haven's cheek over and over, I noticed that my lips were tingling. She had sleep lines all over her little cheek and her eyes were all drowsy and she was smiling ear-to-ear, so excited to see us. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. Just like it is every time.

Little shoppers.

I was sure we only went for groceries, but we ended up trying on sunglasses and buying pyjamas. Damn you, Superstore.

A note from Haven.

Wow, what an awesome kid. Check out my mad skills, walking around while pushing the laundry basket, even though I'm not supposed to because it can scratch up the hardwood floors. I don't need your rules, man.

That's right: I'm small, loud, hilarious, demanding and adorable. I'm not walking yet and why should I when you carry me everywhere and I can make you hold my hands while I walk around. What do you mean your back hurts? 

What's that? This laundry is clean? Does that mean I'm not supposed to throw it all on the floor as fast as I can when I see you walking toward me to try to stop me? Well, too late. Don't worry, I'm really super cute, remember? A mischievous smile and infectious giggle will right all wrongs.

These uber-rosy cheeks? Yeah, I'm teething again, which means I'll be cheerful one minute and inconsolable the next. But you don't mind. You love me and I can be as perplexingly unhappy as I want and you'll always be there for me. I'm pretty sure it's in your contract. What's that? No contract? Hmm. I was sure there was a contract, but no matter. You love me and that's far more powerful than any stinking contract.

Oh and just so you know, no amount of asking or telling me to stop dropping my food on the floor will do any good. It's just too much fun to give up. Also, chewing and sucking on chunks of orange and then spitting them out all over the place before demanding a fresh piece is both yummy and entertaining for me. And you do such a great job of picking up all the squished and slimy remnants. Same goes for pieces of peanut-butter toast and half-chewed chunks of whatever else you're feeding me.

But if I could make one small suggestion? Cool it on the nose wiping. It's a total bummer. Thanks.

Photo essay: Peekaboo.

On its way, but for now.

Spring glorious, Spring.

Picking flowers, wading through puddles, leaving the toque at home.

Pockets full of pebbles.

The mud is muddy, the sun is sunny, the wind is still cold.

Swingsets, skirts. Sandals? Not quite yet.

Your Winter coat is still by the door, but we'll wear the hoodie instead.

Rip the head off a daffodil or tulip because it's just so pretty, I know.

Shall I put it in some water for you?

Baby birds, hummingbirds, bird house, bird bath, bird feeder.

Green grass, long grass. Help me cut the grass?

It's hot. It's cold. It's raining. It's hailing.

The lovely Summer is on its way, but for now it's glorious Spring.

Silly question.

The guy was just annoying. Jill shifted her grocery bag and moved it between her feet to hold it steady, then hoisted Dustin onto her lap. Dustin had been staring openly at the loudmouth and Jill thought if she moved him onto her lap, he'd pay more attention to the sights outside the bus window and less attention to the guy sitting across the aisle. No such luck.

"And then I says to the guy, 'Back off, alright? There ain't no sign sayin' I can't smoke here, so mind yer own business, Buddy!'" The guy sitting next to him snorted in laughter and continued chewing his gum. He adjusted his baseball cap and asked, "Then what'd he do?"

Jill tried to tune them out. The bus wasn't overcrowded today, so she wondered why this guy had to talk so loudly. Only five more stops. She thought instead about the pasta she was going to make for supper and hoped that Dustin would eat it without putting up a fuss. She thought about her job and how she desperately wanted to be chosen for the new position opening up next month. The promotion would mean she could afford to send Dustin to the preschool she really liked, rather than the one she had to settle for. 

"Mama," Dustin whispered and tugged on her sleeve while twisting to look up at her face. "What's that man talking about?" She had to re-focus her attention on Mr. Blabbermouth across the aisle. She knew that if two women were sitting in those seats, Dustin would have paid no attention. He was always curious about what men were doing and she was painfully reminded of this obvious lack of male presence in his life.

"...so she pulls up the chair next to me and sits down, right?" He brought his hands up in front of his chest, fingers spread, palms facing inward. "And her shirt is like, barely covering her huge-"

Jill covered Dustin's ears with her hands and turned his head toward the window. When the two guys erupted into laughter, she removed her hands and kissed the top of Dustin's head. Three years old was too young to start asking what a "rack" was. "They're just talking about a friend, Honey." Lame. But she was too tired to think of a better explanation. "Hey, isn't that Matthew's house up ahead?" She knew it was, but she also knew that Dustin loved pointing out his friends' houses during their bus trips. It provided a few blessed moments of distraction. Once they had passed Matthew's house it was time to gather up their things and get ready to get off the bus. She pulled the cord to ring the bell, moved Dustin onto the empty seat and picked up the grocery bag.

"So this guy is totally tryin' to move in on this chick, right? The chick I've already bought four drinks for, the one I've been workin' on all night! Not cool, man." He shook his head. "Like I'm gonna spend all that money just so you can get some tonight? I don't think so!" His friend nodded and said something that Jill couldn't hear. She noticed that Dustin was listening intently to their conversation once again. Great.

"And I'm thinking, good luck, Buddy! Seriously you got a better chance of smellin' a fart in the wind, man." He laughed loudly and his friend snorted again. Jill was starting down the aisle toward the rear exit of the bus, with Dustin following behind. Or so she thought. The bus had stopped and was waiting for them get off. She was shocked when she heard Dustin's little voice ask, "Mister?"

"Yeah, kid?" Jill turned around to tell Dustin to just come along. The bus was silent; it seemed that everyone wanted to hear what Dustin was going to ask. Jill opened her mouth to call her son, when he said, "Why would you want to smell a fart?" His big blue eyes were unblinkingly earnest.

Blabbermouth's friend let out a snorting guffaw and Jill heard snickers and giggles coming from all over the bus. She was stifling her own laugh, but couldn't keep from smiling as she gently took Dustin's arm to lead him to the exit. The guy looked embarrassed, but was a good enough sport that he reached out and tousled Dustin's hair before he was out of reach. "I guess it's just an expression, kid," he said quietly.

"Thanks, folks, have a great night!" called the bus driver as Jill and Dustin exited the bus. Jill looked up and called "Thanks, you too!" and as she did, she caught the driver's eye in the rear-view mirror. She rode that bus five times a week and had never before seen such a smile on the driver's face.

Photo essay: A true taste of Spring.