My Mama Made Me Do It.

My mom says that I have been shirking my blogging duties of late. Just last night, she said that it wasn't very professional of me to pack up and leave the country without at least an explanation to my legions of loyal readers about my whereabouts, or my return date.

I told her that a) I do not have legions of fans (to which she replied, "Well. I'M a fan, but I guess that doesn't count, does it?"), and b) I'm not very professional about anything (to which she replied, "You really need to work on that, Mahreen").

And you wonder where I get my tactfulness from.

Basically, this post is the grown-up equivalent of when you get caught doing something bad to someone else by your mom and she makes you own up to it by marching you straight over to that someone else's place with your ear twisted tightly between her index finger and thumb to apologize and mean it or else.

(Aside: I think being back here in my childhood home is messing with my head.)

So I'm dedicating this post to my mom, who is hovering over me as I type. Luckily, she can't see what I'm typing, or else I'd be a goner.

As far as she's concerned, I could be typing up a heartfelt apology to all of you.

Or my magnum opus.

Or letters to publishers.

I'm smiling now, so she thinks I'm really getting into this. And I am, but not for the reasons she thinks I am.

I'm smiling because I'm about to type up the following:

Poop Booger Snot Fart.

(She thinks I'm working really hard at this.)

(Aside: Being back in my childhood home is TOTALLY messing with my head.)

Yesterday, we went to go see my best friend from high school, and halfway through our visit I had a bit of spazz out moment. I was watching our children play together and they acted so much the way we did when we first met, calling out made-up nicknames to one another from across the park, oblivious to the world around them as they filled the air with their carefree laughter. I had an out-of-body moment as I remembered us goofing off in the same way not so very long ago. Weren't we trying to skip out on our Physics class just yesterday? How were we now old enough to be discussing Spanxx and comfortable (yet fashionable!) footwear? I have to say that I pulled a Vizzini from The Princess Bride and spluttered, "IT'S INCONCEIVABLE!" - to which I received many a quizzical stare because this entire line of thinking had occurred inside my own head.

Did I mention that I turn 33 in exactly four days, and that I have pulled two gray hairs from my head in the past 48 hours? I'm sure that the two are related and I hate it.  I don't even know why I pulled those two tiny gray hairs out - I didn't think about it, I just reacted, instinctively. If I continue on at this rate, I'm sure I'll go bald before my 34th birthday. I very much need to get a grip on reality. I'm old.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I want my Mooooooooooooommmmmmy!

Being back in Toronto feels like a time warp - a part of me is in complete and utter denial about having grown up and gone away, especially when I'm surrounded by the Museum Of My Childhood. The other part of me feels so very old. Ancient, even. I feel like I'm as dusty and creaky (and gray!) as all the old medals and trophies lining my parents' mantel. I do love seeing my past through the eyes of the future - that is to say, my children. Everything is wonderful and amazing to them. The thought that their parents were ever children themselves, it's...absolutely...INCONCEIVABLE!

I had plans to take many, many pictures of the girls while we were here, exploring my old haunts and visiting my old friends, but to tell you the truth I haven't even unpacked the camera. Life just seems different up here in Toronto, tucked away in the homes of our loved ones. I can't quite put my finger on it, the best description I can muster is that it feels like I'm living in a bubble. A big, lazy, happy, content bubble.

We'll be here until the middle of next week and at the end of it all we'll have not much to show for it, other than the memories we will have made. But oh, what memories they will be. Inara turns five the day before me and she and I are having joint b-day celebrations. We've also been a part of a retirement party, a wedding, water park and zoo excursions and so, so, so, much more. Maybe it's because I'm getting older, but for once, I just want to soak it all up. I want to enjoy every little moment of sunshine, squeezing the marrow out of every gloriously manic-inducing, sleep-deprived moment. For once, I want to be here - present for it - instead of trying to capture it.

At least until my Mama makes me unpack that darn camera, to which I shall say... 

Poop Booger Snot Fart.

And then I'll do it anyway, because when you're at Mama's house you'd better do what Mama says.

How many days until we're back home again?