Nevergirl’s

For such a scaredy cat, I sure watch a lot of horror flicks. It doesn’t matter by who; I’m indiscriminate that way. On my flash drive, you will find all sorts of horror and gore. Zombies, ghouls, vampires, and good ‘ol mutations – you name them, I watch them.

Don’t get me wrong. These movies scare me. But, I also happen to like scaring myself. It’s great exercise. It’s the only time I get to move a bit because yes, I’m lazy like that and I shun all forms of exercise like they’re the plague.

Now, movie nights at home are a lot of fun and they become even more fun when we watch something scary. We sit on the couch and stuff ourselves with popcorn, Pringles, and soda. I sit riveted, torn between fascination and fright. I watch the scene unfold through partially covered eyes. I scream, I pant, I hold my breath. And then, when the credits roll, I tell the husband, “Let’s NOT watch another flick like that again.” I mean it, too, until the next horror film comes along.

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If there’s anything being mom to two girls has made me, it’s stalwart. Nothing ever surprised me anymore, not the fact that on my bookmarks you will find alongside sites on insurance advertising and whatnot kiddie staples like Nickjr.com and Y8.com. Or the fact that I’m almost always jolted awake at 4am by a 5-year-old who has nightmares in English. Or that I watch what my 5-year-old watches – under duress most of the time, I tell you – and actually enjoy it!

I’m sure motherhood has changed me in a lot of ways.

On Friday nights, I put on a floppy hat, grab a tote, and spend an hour or so marching about the living room, singing a Peter Pan track, “Following the Leader”.

On weekends, I resign myself to eating whatever the 5-year-old whips up as she “cooks” beside the hub. Thank goodness for my tum, she hasn’t come up with anything poisonous yet.

Every day, I fully expect to find toys in the bathroom sink, Play-doh in the laundry basket, and plastic dinner stoves and plates under the pillows.

So yes, stalwart would have to be the best adjective for the person motherhood has turned me into. I can clean up after poop, change nappies, endure tantrums, and stop my two daughters from killing each other without batting an eyelash.

If you ask me to come up with titles to describe just what it is I do at home, it would have to be these, in the following order: maid, nurse, barber, entertainer, jury, judge, personal shopper, executioner, referee, and warden.

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A lot of people ask me why we’re moving and what we will be doing. Here’s the most straightforward answer: we’re moving so the husband can do two things: put up our own logging business and also look after that of his folks’. They’re not getting any younger, the hub’s parents. At some point, they will need someone to take care of the business. The hub will do that, once we’re there.

As for logging, nope, we won’t be cutting down trees ourselves, or carting them off to trucks. There are people who do that. What we will do is simply go between the supplier and the buyer, which is a good thing thank God because physically cutting down trees or shopping for truck accessories ourselves is upsetting to my tree-hugging sensibilities.

And just so you know, it’s not illegal logging. We’d have to obtain permits to cut and permits to transport trees that are specifically grown for trade.

I’m not too sure how we will fare in lumber county, truth be told. But I’ll be sure to share photos once we get there. I dread the move but I’d be lying if I say I’m not excited. I am. I just can’t stop dreading it, as well.

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