The challenge of writing a weekly column about my life and impressions about what life is like in Prince George is that sometimes, nothing really happens. I, like many other people, live a "normal" life. I work full-time, come home, play with my kids, watch a little TV, go to bed, repeat. Breaking down a typical day into its component parts reveals a terrifying sameness.
But underneath the false veneer of regular life, magic still happens. Rainbows in the midst of a storm.
I am one of those truly lucky parents, blessed with children who still don't sleep through the night. As frustrating as that can be, there are still moments that will make my husband and I laugh, even though we are so sleep-deprived that we feel like crying.
For instance, our son likes to come into our room in the middle of night to wake us up, shout-talking, to tell me about his elaborate dreams involving camping, garbage cans and bad guys.
Not to be outdone, our daughter prefers the 3 a.m. time slot to yell at the top of her lungs, "mama!" in an endless loop until acknowledged. When we ask her what she wants, she very calmly tells us "I want cereal." If she's woken up by a bad dream, she clings to me like she's still a baby and wants to cuddle, trusting us to keep her safe.
In the regular chaos of a weekday morning, the kids delight in telling knock-knock jokes and laughing hysterically at the nonsense they create. Their favourite ones recently involve a chicken and its butt.
Dinner-time comes with its own special set of challenges with two picky-eaters. My favourite dinner ritual involves the pre-dinner queries.
"Dad, what's for dinner?"
"Chicken, rice and broccoli."
Large, sad sigh. "Is it crunchy chicken or reganan chicken?"
"It's regular chicken."
Sad boy starts to cry. "But I want reganan chicken!" More drama ensues. Then the daughter refuses to eat dinner and flips her plate on top of the dog and you're picking rice grains out of dog fur for the next two days.
I never thought that being a parent meant that you became the star of your own commercial promising household peace if only Kraft Dinner was the only thing served. I admit, KD or pancakes are dinner food occasionally, just to watch them smile.
Find the moments. Hug your kids. Do it again tomorrow.
