I'm reading a book called The Forgotten Garden and it has been making me so sad that I don't even want to read it some days. I'm about a third of the way through and it's just heartbreaking; the story is very convoluted and I'm not really interested in giving a synopsis, so read it if you're really curious. There's a little girl in the story and she's four, and she's so alone that it just makes me want to cry. I don't think any book has ever touched me this way.

I drove my sister to the airport this afternoon. She's going to Vancouver for a few days to shop for schools. It's not a long flight, and it's national so I thought she'd want to be there a half-hour or so before the flight. We left the house at 1:30 and stopped for a Slurpee and then I missed the exit on the Henday and then too the wrong exit off highway 2 and she started freaking out on me a bit. I felt bad because I was worried that she'd miss her flight and by this time it was a quarter after two and then she told me that her plane doesn't leave til 3:30. I couldn't help but laugh. I'd have to get pretty lost in order for her to miss that.

My sister and I were not close growing up. We didn't get along very well and didn't have anything in common. As we got to our late teens, we stopped bickering and fighting a lot, but we weren't great friends or anything. I think the first time I spent any large amount of time with her was when I went to Thailand with her three years ago. We had a really good time. I would have been totally lost there without her. She has an amazing talent for making her way around the world without speaking a word of the language of the country she's visiting. I'm very very proud of her.

Life really gets in the way of writing sometimes, despite my effort to make writing a vital part of life. My daughter has been quite sick. On Friday night, the doctor at the after-hours care centre told us, as curtly as possible without being overtly rude, that she would stop vomiting within the next 24 hours and listed all the signs of dehydration that we could look for "next time". Well, she didn't vomit on Saturday, but she did on Sunday and then again today, but I'll be damned if I'm going to go in again and be told to just wait it out, and sent away again. What's the point?

Her miserable little attitude the past two weeks got me thinking for a while that maybe I wasn't spending enough time rolling around on the floor with her. She's so happy with her dad just laying next to her, but I've tried it and she wants something different from me. She wants me to listen to her. Yes, that sounds a bit silly since she doesn't talk, but she's happiest with me when I'm giving her my undivided attention and responding to her waving arms or ridiculous babbling, but not by saying ridiculous things in stupid baby voices. She wants me to take her seriously. Then she's happy. I understand that. Parents are so prone to duplicity with their children, and it starts in infancy, and probably becomes a deeply ingrained habit. I care a lot about how I'm treated and how I'm spoken to, so the least I can do is not be a hypocrite.

Well, back to trite activities like doing laundry and cooking dinner.

Oh the joys of motherhood.

I finished the Harry Potter series last week, after tearing through it at a lightning pace, and then finished Shutter Island yesterday, for book club, and now I'm reading The Fountainhead, which I got almost halfway through a couple of years back, but abandoned for whatever reason. However, I'm just not as gung-ho about reading it as I was the Potter books. When I was reading them, I'd dive right into my book the moment the baby went down for a nap. I devoured them. It's been less than a week since the last one was over and I'm still mourning the series a bit. So I'm not reading so prolifically right now and it feels a bit strange. Baby girl has been sleeping more than an hour (thankfully - she's miserable lately) and I've just been putzing around on facebook, playing Farmville and whathaveyou. Strange.

Bailey and I took our girls swimming today. It was great - the facility we went to has a wading pool, so the girls got to just hang out at their own level, though neither of them walks yet so they couldn't really go anywhere. They seemed to enjoy it a lot. I know we did. I have a great picture of the two of them in the playpen in the changeroom with their suits on, all ready to go.

Bailey and I got to talking about going back to work, which she's done already and I will be shortly, and I was complaining about all the horrible shiftwork I'll be doing and wishing I had some way of bringing in money from home. She thinks I should start hiring myself out as a photographer. I'd love to, but the thought makes me a bit nervous. Of course, it's easier now with digital photography than it ever was with film because you can take a million pictures and not worry about it, but I am still not really confident that I'm good enough to do it. I don't want to screw up people's memories. I've seen a lot of "professional" photography websites that don't exactly produce even acceptable pictures, but on the other hand I have some good friends who take incredible photos. I think I just need more practice.

So, I want to try doing it for nothing. If anyone out there wants maybe some family photos taken, or portraits or whatever (and this would all have to be outside since I have no studio) please comment or email me medusa@telus.net and I'd love to do it for you, just for practice. I will take the photos and edit them as need be and give them to you on a disc or memory card and you may print them as you like. :)

Ok, I broke my own rule and didn't blog for a couple of days. I could come up with excuses, but there's really no point. Rules get broken all the time. I'm not saying rules are meant to be broken, oh no. It's just that they do.

Finally spring has sprung and my birthday is threatening right around the corner. Many years we're still under a foot of snow for my birthday, so I'm pleased that it's all melted for this year, of course. One year Ashley and I went to the cabin to celebrate. It wasn't an overly warm year and we spent most of it bundled tightly up in the porch. Last year I had my first 3D ultrasound on my birthday. The year before, Layton threw me a surprise birthday party. Yes, they've mostly been very good, and I'm not really apprehensive about getting older, so I shouldn't act like I'm unhappy about my birthday coming up. That's not what I'm dreading.

Two and a half months are left of my mat leave. I've accepted that. There's no way around it and no point in stressing over it; there's no way to make the year last forever, no matter if you waste your time or make it precious. I've spent nearly every minute with my daughter, so I'm sure I'm not mistaken when I say it's been many precious weeks. I've also gotten myself into fairly great shape through a combination of healthy eating and yoga. I've made a few unexpected friends. I've learned a thousand things I'd never even thought of before. I've read the entire Harry Potter book series. It's been some really great months so far, and I've faith that it's only going to get better.

It's nice to be able to go outside, but fresh air really takes it out of me.

My birthday is next week. I don't really hate getting older as much as I probably will when older involves regular mameograms, but it's still not the best feeling in the world. When I was younger, in my early twenties, I felt like time was running away from me and it seemed like 30 was some huge deadline that was fast approaching. But that time was a lifetime ago, and 30 is still quite far away and I still feel very young. And it seems like time has gotten longer, the possibilities endless like never before. When I was younger, I didn't want to go back to school because it seemed like everything I wanted to take would just take too long. Now, I'm much more open to the idea, and a few extra years doesn't seem like a big deal.