Look, up in the sky!

Finally, a few minutes to blog!

Just so everyone's clear, stay-at-home-parent does not actually mean that one is home all the time. Far from it. In fact, my schedule is probably fuller than it would be if I wasn't "at home". Between Declan's preschool (I volunteer there), Aerik's primary school (I volunteer there), Jackson's playgroup (you guessed it: I volunteer there, too), Aerik's blues band and piano lesson (every Monday night for two hours), appointments for everyone (including speech therapy, fittings and repairs of hearing aids with the audioprostheticist, my own therapy to deal with how insane my life is), cleaning, cooking, making lunches, grocery shopping... you get the idea. Then, when I attempt to sit down for a few minutes I get bombarded with demands from... Oh, right! Those kids! I'm so busy I nearly forgot I had kids.

That's the problem with life these days, isn't it? We're all terribly impressed with ourselves and our Super Mom complexes that sometimes forget what all of this is about: the children. And before anyone vehemently denies this claim, let me just say that I'm on to you. I know you feel it, too. That pressure to perform perfectly in nearly every task. That desire to be the mentally sound Desperate Housewife, or Desperate Working Woman, or whatever you are. To have it all: The looks, the balanced chequebook, the well-behaved children, the loving relationship, the sparkling house... And if you're one of the few who doesn't wish they could have all those things, then you're either in the thick of denial or incredibly healthy in the head. Either way, congratulations!

Every now and then I wonder if I, Amanda Knox, could be a Super Mom. I imagine preparing home-cooked meals every night with an apron fastened tightly against my flat stomach (the one I'd have by going to the gym three days per week), happily running the Home & School committee and coming home to rose petals sprinkled all over the bed by my doting husband.

Then, of course, I wake up and smell the Kraft Dinner. I can't have it all, you see. It's simply impossible. If I go to the gym three times per week then I have to either find childcare (which would cost enough that I couldn't afford the gym) or go out in the evenings (my husband would be too tired to have anything laid out on the bed but himself, snoring). If make home-cooked meals every night I won't be able to play on the floor with the kids while the pizza is busy being delivered. If having a spotless house was that important to me I'd have to check into a mental facility to deal with the stress of toys on the floor in the *gasp* playroom!

At any rate, I'm fairly pleased with my mediocrity.

(Must go. My cape is stuck in the washer...)