So, like, writing a blog is awesome, right? I think that I write just like I talk, except without the annoying verbal tics that I remove in the editing stages. Cuz sometimes I talk a bit like a valley girl, which is the verbiage from my rad teen years.

Some epic studies say that teens may sound like airheads with their overuse of the word "right" and ending every sentence with a question, but they may, in fact, be moving human communication forward.

"I want to push the cart," announced my two-year-old daughter so proudly at the grocery store.

"How about you help mummy push the cart?"

"No mama, no touch the cart, I push it." She promptly steers into the shelf and nearly takes out an old lady who, of course, gives me the evil eye.

"Honey, we need to push the cart together. Or you can sit in the cart" I say, hopefully, wedging my body in between her and the desired handle.

"Nooooooo." And the meltdown begins.

At this point I could:

I haven't read the Hunger Games or Twilight and, I may as well be honest, not very much of Harry Potter either. I'm a huge reader and a bit of a book snob; there is so much great literary fiction going on, why would I read books meant for teens?

Especially since I can see the movies. (Though, I haven't seen any of the Twilight films.)

It's rare that you read something from a celebrity and think: wow, she really exposed herself. (Or at least rare for me because I always assume the PR person has written it all.)

But this post on motherhood by Felicity Huffman is very real. In it, the Desperate Housewife and mother of two girls, aged 11 and 9, talks about something that doesn't get discussed very often -- feeling lost in motherhood.

I have had similar experiences before, but this one was so glaring that I had to double check that I was reading right.

My grade one daughter's report card describes a different child than the one I parent. If I was asked to describe her in the five words, I would say: independent, competent, friendly, eager to learn, smart and a perfectionist. (Okay, six.)

My guess is her teacher would say she is friendly but dependent, distracted, disorganized and possibly not-so-smart, or at least that is what her report card essentially says.

You are knee-deep in laundry and diapers, you haven't slept in months, your repetitive strain is acting up from lugging the car seat around and just when you have figured out how many times you can microwave the same cup of coffee before it turns to gut rot, your well-meaning neighbour asks when you are having your second.

It seems impossible at that moment to imagine a second child, or even a third.

You've probably seen it by now -- a dad sits in a field, reads a Facebook note that his 15-year old daughter posted and then proceeds to shoot her laptop with a handgun -- with an extra bullet from her mother.

If you are not one of the 30-million who has watched the "Facebook Parenting: For The Troubled Teen" YouTube video, here is the link. Tommy Jordan got more than her bargained for when he posted the video to YouTube and started an international conversation on teens' behaviour, parent frustration and the use of the word "slave" vs. chores.

Tomorrow my kids go back to school after a holiday, not just the holiday Monday but a full week and a half off of school. They are a bit stressed, their reading sits untouched in their backpacks and it is too late to do any homework.

We were in Florida last week, (which is why it was a bit quiet around here, if you noticed) celebrating some family occasions. We left on a Thursday, returned the following Thursday right before a school-mandated four-day weekend. We did a quick turnaround and went skiing a couple hours north of the city for three days.

It's a tough life, I know.

We have had a nightly visitor this week. She crawls into our bed, settles between us and says sleepily: "I've had a bad dream."

I can live with that part (in fact, I enjoy it). The problem is when I put her to bed and she says that as soon as she closes her eyes she can see the monster of her dreams waiting to come get her.

We lived in the U.S. when I had my first child. My job offered me a whole six weeks off - unpaid of course. I knew that wasn't going to be enough, so I was planning to quit. Bedrest and corporate takeover stymied my plan for a long feminist diatribe; an email had to do.

I think maternity leave differences between the U.S. and Canada are one of the biggest things that set us apart. The one year Canadian maternity leave forces companies and individuals to recognize that bonding with your baby is important. By holding a job open, it also forces employers to recognize that women's roles in the workplace are important.