I am Mother. Bodyguard. Defender of children, preserver of all things innocent.
Since giving birth to my babes, I have pandered to this horrible tendency of imagining the worst. I foresee dreadful things happening to my children, like them falling out of a second story window because of their incessant need to lean on that thin screen.
I visualize them getting hit by a speeding car because they did not look both ways before crossing the street.
I think that every human being is a baby snatcher and on the hunt for my babies.
The obscurity of this night is striking, and I quickly make my way towards the bed where my husband lies restfully. I am very much looking forward to sleep this night.
My eyes are drooping and I can feel myself moving towards that place of half sleep where the conscious mind no longer rules, and dreams will soon take over.
I am jolted upright right when I hear a cry for ‘Mama’ from the next room. I don’t really want to get up, I don’t really think it is necessary at this time. More than likely the child is just having a bad dream, it will pass.
Again the cry tickles my ear.
It was a family dinner like any other in the Brown household.
I was bribing Lars to eat all of his supper in return for a brimming bowl of deliciousness, that included strawberries and whipped cream with an added touch of sprinkles on top. I’m pretty sure that it was the sprinkles that sealed the deal.
Sophie of course was offered the same deal, but Sophie, you see, does not give in as easily to bribery. She did not want to eat her roast beef dinner, and I am sure that no amount of multi-coloured sprinkles would change that. I held strong though while telling her that she would not get any dessert until her plate was clean.
My heart sank a little as I dished up Lars’ bowl of berries and cream; Sophie just looked idly by knowing that she would not receive any, because her plate still had 90 percent of her dished up food still lying there sadly.
Call it Mom intuition, but I knew this day was going to be a rough one.
As I made my way out to the kitchen to brew myself a coffee, I felt weary and worn out.
The day hadn’t even begun yet and I felt as though a steamroller had done me in during the hours of night.
I scanned my surroundings and everywhere I glanced there was a job to be done. Clean the kitchen table of its clutter. Unload the dishwasher, load the dishwasher with the mountainous stack of dishes in the sink.
It is no secret that this year our poor province has been riddled with the white fluffy stuff. I suppose I shouldn’t be complaining, as they say — we do live in Canada! Not to mention I am sure, that a mass majority of the public loves all of this snow. We’ve got the snowmobilers who speed through our fields and trails with a white powder tail trailing them, the skiers and snowboarders who I am pretty sure are revelling in the coverage on the mountains right now, and not forgetting of course, the children!
Currently the highest drift in our back yard is about five feet tall. My wonderful husband and my brother have made this into a fort/toboggan hill for the kids.
The base of the drift has been hollowed out and on the opposite side they have smoothed down a ramp for crazy carpets and GT racers.
I truly do appreciate the effort from these two men in my life, but I mustn’t lie when I say that watching Sophie in the little polar bear house (which they have named the snow fort) and Lars racing down the top of that same embankment gives me a near heart attack each time I see it.