I just lost a half an hour of my life trying to get my 3-year old daughter and her friend out of her bedroom where she had pushed up her mattress against the door.  The mattress (yes, her bed is a mattress on the floor – she is a third child), got wedged between the door and the dresser. It wasn’t until my two sons managed to squeeze themselves into the room that we were able to free the mattress and the girls.

And just like many stupid-kid antics it had all the elements of an after-school episode. Drama, fear, aggravation, a little yelling, teamwork and finally, reconciliation.

For a while, my oldest son was pretty sheltered child. Just like many parents of first-borns we kept a close eye on his media consumption: his choice of TV shows was heavily monitored, the chosen movies were hotly debated and researched, and the music was child-friendly.

And then he made friends. And the problem with his friends is that some of them have older brothers. And those older brothers love inappropriate movies, video games and music. It was those same older brothers who have taught my sweet young thing how to work an insult, and even about the birds and the bees.

I am a reading snob. If you tell me what you are reading, I will judge you accordingly. I have been in a book club since before Oprah even had magical bookselling powers. And I think life is too short to waste on chick lit, mysteries or Maeve Binchy-style beach reads.

And usually my friends agree with me, but many of them have fallen under the Twilight spell. I have held out against the Twilight forces for months now. But my friends are pressuring me and to be honest, its becoming a bone of contention.

At my daughter’s Sportplay class, the Coach (the legendary Coach Mike) asked the kids what the had for breakfast, and at least three of them said “Rice Krispies”. Rice Krispies, are they kidding? That is not breakfast, it is an ingredient in an unhealthy, but quick-to-make bake sale treat.

It’s true. We met  in 1984 when I was 15 and he was 17 and we got married 13 years later. And I already know what you are thinking.

As H1N1 has stolen most of my energy and my voice, I am going to post a quiz today that was sent by a friend of mine. She is a financial planner and was very concerned when I had no idea what my renegotiated mortgage rate is. In fact, when it comes to the state of my finances I have absolutely no idea about anything. I know, I know that is a bad thing. My husband (a former accountant) is concerned about my lack of knowledge of all things financial, though it does work in his favour because I don’t go down there and mess up all his neat little piles. But we are both conscious of the “What if..” factor, could I figure out all this stuff on my own?

According to a recent TD Waterhouse poll of female investors I am very much in the minority, 92% of women polled were active in the managing of the household finances, though only half of them had a financial plan.  Now, I'm just plain embarrassed...

Take the quiz:

I have lost my voice. I can barely talk above a whisper, and it is surprisingly effective. I think I have found a whole new parenting technique. The quieter I talk, the quieter the kids speak to me too.

My kids are little freaked out about the whole thing. My son said to me: "It feels like my ears are broken when I hear you talk."

It's like the whole house is speaking in whispers. It's quite amazing the effect whispering has on people. I guess its the opposite of when someone speaks loudly, and you raise your voice to match them. When someone is whispering to you, its just feels a little awkward to speak loudly back.

Maybe this is payback for my post on yelling. Maybe this my own personal form of swine flu, a painful throat, cough and lack of voice. Of course, that is a little unfair, because swine flu around here is also known as whine flu. And I can't whine, in fact I am still able to function on a somewhat-minimized level. I just have to choose my words carefully, kind of like verbal Twitter.

And I should tread carefully here because I don't want to start the whole man cold thing again. But let's be honest when mommy is sick life goes on. It's not like my hubby is wiping my brow and calling me "poor little bunny".

I could try and be a better person and say that when my voice returns I will have learned my lesson; speak softly and I will expect the kids to speak quietly in return. But we all know that won't happen...

A full week of having a sick three-year old has re-acquainted me with preschooler shows. I have fallen in love all over again with the innocence, the music and the totally naïve and useless lessons they try and teach.

The other day, I was so mad at my oldest son for something or other (who can keep track?) I yelled: “I am not going to say anything else, in case I say something I regret.” He looked at me and said, “What could you say to me that you would regret?” And it stopped me dead. What could I possibly say to one of the people that I love most in the world that I would regret later? And suddenly the heated moment was gone.

I have this irrational theory (it’s not my only one) that my kids’ personalities were somehow evident by their birth. My husband thinks this is actually crazy, but I'm right.