Gift basket is on the way. Lord help my saccharine soul.

All chocolate emergencies have been dealt with now because not only is there a few packages on the way (which will get eaten, as chocolate is a Big Deal in this house) but Lochlan and Ben brought home a cake from their travels yesterday (which included driving all over town picking off a list of things some of the boys needed and they like to take off sometimes and spend the day together and have lunch out and bond separately from me, which I love because it keeps them close).

Also I learned how Caleb shops online (which I suspected but have now confirmed). He goes online, finds what he wants, sorts from highest to lowest price, selects and buys the top thing. I'm trying to teach him that isn't really the best way to shop. Sometimes it's a brand preference or a value for the money thing. I don't think he believes me but we ordered Ghirardelli on my advice because it's probably the best that I've found, albeit not even close to the most expensive. He has his doubts but he will see.

It's raining today and everyone is quietly hovering. I like it. It makes the cake I'm having for breakfast that much sweeter.

Don't read this unless you're used to it, too.

Once again it's a beautiful day. I'm feeling better, however, having moved on from a fever and extreme exhaustion to a headache and extreme exhaustion. I'm trying to drink more water and get more sleep to counteract this and maybe it will work.

Over breakfast someone made the mistake of asking me how I'm doing (serious this time) since I will never complain to them, and so they got a highly detailed account of my attempts to insert my menstrual cup this morning in spite of giving up on it last year upon finding out my uterus is also narcoleptic and is leaning up against my bladder, having a snooze, so tilted it should be sent to AA meetings, if only I could take it out.

(And I would, if anyone would let me. Because apparently no one wants to remove parts from a perfectly functioning somewhat healthy woman just because every period she has is the Shining elevator doors scene repeated for four days straight every month now, sometimes every second month because normal? Who the fuck needs to be normal?

I think Dalton was sorry he asked.

Caleb found it fascinating. I might know someone who can help you, he says. Of course he does. Why wouldn't he have a uterus expert on file. Or a heavy period specialist. What's he going to do, threaten it?

(I've tried that. It did nothing.)

I have three doc-, no four. I have four doctors already. But thank you. 

Let's change the subject then. Dalton pleads with me.

Okay. Find those isograph drawing pens in this city. 

Just get them on Amazon. 

What the fuck? No. That's far too easy. I must drive around for two weeks searching for them before forgetting about them for another year. 

Dalton rolls his eyes and looks at his phone. Conversation over, I guess.

Ordered. Caleb says.

I was JUST about to do that, Dalton laughs.

So I'm stuck home waiting for Amazon now. 

May as well since you're bleeding out.

Did you order chocolate too? 

Jesus Christ, Dalton says and they both whip out their phones again.

So far so ____________.

What a beautiful day. It's breezy and sunny and perfect, a summer day like no other. I called my father to wish him a Happy Father's Day but he was busy so he asked me to call him later before I could get a word in. Lochlan is still asleep after a rough night and no one else has appeared as of yet, save for Sam, who pushed his hand against my forehead, rattled off a prayer for the contagious, for the sweaty-feverish, and then all but ran out the door, late for church.

But as I said: What a beautiful day.

If I resell my soul can I be well again?

Until this fever breaks I'm trying to move slowly. In this house when we get sick we really get sick. We need to just not get sick right now. As long as Henry's getting better (and he is, though he coughs so) the rest of us can muddle through.

Tomorrow is Father's Day, the day (like every other day) when the boys step in to big shoes and continue (as they always have) to be dads, positive male role models and big brothers, hunkles and good friends to my kids. Our kids. Their kids, in some cases, and better late than never. Kids that have been stolen for their own (right Caleb?) and kids who never for a moment felt fatherless and I am ever grateful, ever floored by that. I'm throwing a big communal lunch, which is the perfect thing to do when one is very ill and has pledged to move more slowly, right? I thought so. To make life simpler and more breathtaking we'll eat outside on the patio and we will have mountains of pancakes and tea, fresh maple syrup and blueberries to toast to the dads, the boys, the brothers, the saviours. The rescuers. The holder-uppers. The ones who are here and have stuck by us, thick and thin.

That's what you do. You mark the moments and you mark the people that bring meaning to them. Thank you boys for bringing meaning to ours. To theirs. They need you, I need you, and you never let us down. And for that I raise my glass (half champagne/half Nyquil/all bad ideas) and salue you.

*cough*. 

(Fuck this getting sick. Just fuck it. I have parties to throw.)

Fevers and yearbooks and groceries, oh my!

Can't even look at a screen. My face hurts. The yearbook made me smile though. Henry's grown up so quickly, so quietly. You wouldn't think a giant blonde seventeen-year-old could be quiet about anything but he can be. 

Turtle princess.

First full day off and I'm running in slow motion with heavy limbs and a sour disposition, not to mention a voice that sounds like a poor radio signal, cutting out constantly with every third or fourth word, only to come back and break. I'm getting Henry's final magnificent public-school cold, something he's managed to pull off and work on getting over with room to breathe here in the middle of exams, dry graduation and his graduation ceremony. Report cards, yearbooks, end of term projects, job searches and learning how to drive.

The slow-motion part bothers me the most, in that I've had to talk myself into everything today. Like everything little thing. From putting on my necklace to brushing my hair to fixing lunch. To wondering if I should have tea and then deciding it was too much work but not wanting to ask anyone else to make it for me.

I wanted to go sit out on the front porch but I need to start dinner. I wanted to draw a little but it's late and that's always one of the things I covet for the perfect moments. I trashed my last painting without finishing it and I feel so unmotivated and unsuccessful right this moment it's hard to blame it on the impending arrival of this cold or on the end of a huge part of my existence (youngest child finishing up public school after being in the system since 2005. That was the year Ruthie started grade two. That was the year I gave up homeschooling. Ironic but I don't count that as a failure or something I dropped out of, moreso it was a decision to give her things I couldn't, including independence and individuality. Henry quickly followed her, though he's had two extra years of school thanks to being enrolled from Kindergarten. Is this how I'm supposed to feel now that they're about finished? Tired? So tired I could sleep while I drive, cook or clean?

Maybe it is.

Naw, it's just the cold. Lochlan says it from the back step where he sits working on getting the old barbecue up and running again even though we've aready got a new one. He coughs before he finishes his sentence. I guess it's going to be a quiet weekend.

The losers.

This should have been easy. I have my hands behind my back. It's cool in the air conditioning. This sundress doesn't have pockets. I am disappointed, surprised and a hundred dollars poorer as I bring my hands forward to give Joel his payout. I came prepared. It's in American one dollar bills. Only seventy-five of them, thanks to the exchange rate. A nice thick half-inch stack. Because if you can't win a bet, at least be an asshole about it.

Joel laughs. It pays to support the underdogs.

Total fluke, I repeat. I learned my lesson. Six Stanley cups already, one won in my lifetime even (unlike my beloved Leafs), so the Bruins should have been a natural inevitability instead of a glaring jolt and so I was cocky.

Lochlan warned me not to bet actual money. I never listen to him of course, generally reaping hundreds from the boys since they make bets with their dicks instead of their brains.

I did that tonight, I guess. I made a bet using my dick as a compass and it pointed me in the wrong direction. Stupid thing. Clearly it's broken so good thing it's imaginary.

I hand him his money and he laughs out loud. At least it isn't pennies. 

I tried to get them. I also tried to get you a hundred dollars worth of marshmallows but I didn't have enough notice.

He laughs harder. This is fine. I think. 

One by one everyone pays him. The odds were so crooked here, and he was the only one willing to stake his cash on a team that's never won before. PJ hands over a gift card to the Keg for a hundred bucks and wipes away a tear.

Lochlan hands him a stack of fifty two-dollar scratch cards.

Ben gives Joel a crisp fake one hundred, waiting for him to notice the fact that Justin Trudeau is on it. Joel absently puts it into his wallet and thanks Ben for not giving him a hay bale, as once threatened.

Look at the bill, Ben says.

Joel gives him a withering look. It's fake isn't it? 

Ben claps him on the back. The hay bale is behind your car. I can help you load it in whenever you're ready. PJ can help. We can cut it in half if we need to, right PJ?

PJ  nods. He is full-on crying now. Aren't we something.

Snap. Crackle. Fuckit.

Okay, so I quit today. Lasted fifteen months all told. I won't be detailing the reasons but I also didn't share the reasons with my employer, telling them only that I was moving on to new opportunities.

What opportunities? How much they paying you?

Double. I smile gingerly and keep polishing spoons. They're always water-spotted. I cringe when I give them out.

Oh.

He doesn't say much more. He comes back an hour later and asks if I'll come back someday.

Maybe, I lie. Depends.

You should come back.

I almost felt sorry for him but then I remember that straw, the one that broke the Bridget's back and the one that sent me straight to his desk to give notice.

When I got home everyone was ready with the hugs. Long comforting hugs. Can't believe you lasted that long hugs. What took you so long hugs. You okay hugs. Let's burn your uniform hugs. The best one was from Lochlan who rocked me in his arms, the I can't wait to spend more time with you hug. That was definitely the greatest one.

Merchant of hearts.

I set my price and they paid. I didn't have to stand on a busy corner harkening for the most desperate of cries, able to reach in through my ribs and pull out exactly what they needed, right down to fit, colour and value. I didn't have to work hard at it, for it was something that came naturally. I wouldn't have chosen this path but when I looked down the alternatives this one chose me, pushing me along, tripping me with it's heavy claustrophobic vines and rocky footing, igniting my fear of its darkness.

And then I realized it would show me the way back. And as I trudge along, dragging this heavy case of hearts, given freely in exchange for certain immortality I smile to myself, because I'm almost home.

***

Ben wakes up at the crack of For Fucks Sakes this morning and with that, the day begins. I don't know what it is about Ben where if he gets up for whatever reason that's it for everyone in the bed but it's almost as if the sun rises and sets by him.

Because it fucking DOES.

So it's eight in the morning and I've done two loads of laundry, fed and walked the pets, done the budget (personal and household), written for a while (not here), made lunches for tomorrow, organized all the fans and such (in summer they turn counterclockwise to push air down for maximum effect. Did you know that? I thought I might but BC Hydro confirmed it in an email. Of course I subscribe. I won the 10% less challenge last year and earned a $50 credit on our December bill. That's how awesome I am) and switched to summer quilts on our bed at least. I'll do the kids' beds later when they wake up and encourage the others to switch if they haven't. I checked the garden (watermelons, carrots and radishes in the lead!) and noticed PJ was up and out back practicing his golf swing (he's golfing this evening). Ben took a tea downstairs to work, I ate the last scone and Lochlan is having a forty-five minute shower right now. That or he fell asleep in there. I don't think we're going to church. Sam can give me a drive-by baptism later if he needs to. And then maybe he can take this case off my hands and find a safe place for it. It's much to heavy to carry by myself.

Three weeks.

That's a timeline I've given myself. Three weeks. To accept that things will be a lot busy and a little crazy and just to give myself space to take deep breaths and finally learn that it's definitely okay to suggest everyone find a bagel or cereal or take my damn designated night already if they are hungry for a meal that I'm supposed to cook and haven't yet. To learn that it's still okay to call in sick if I have to because things are too busy or too fragile or I'm too tired. To learn that sleeping pills are okay once or twice a month if I must. That things will get done and if they don't, odds are I'm the only one who's going to notice. To confirm that I don't care who wins the Stanley Cup once the Leafs are out of the running and that it's okay to be a particular team fan if not a full-on hockey fan these days. To look forward to the huge list of horror movies I plan to watch this summer because I'm so far behind.

To not care about basketball but desperately want to have some We The North merchandise because I am a proud Canadian, after all. Yes, even if I don't watch basketball. Right now my casual clothes are all band t-shirts and hoodies and plain black leggings. It's so boring but also funny because I can go to the grocery store in my best Goatwhore shirt and be surrounded by people in high-cost athleisure wear judging me up the wazoo and you know what?

I don't care. And that's okay. I don't have to learn that lesson though. I already did.

I need to care less and self-care more. I know this. We said goodbye to our guests this morning. Two night visits are the best. Just enough time to catch up and get ahead without feeling as if your space is shrinking. We need to go grocery shopping again but PJ, Ben and Henry are going to look after it.

I learned to let them, even though they just buy chocolate everything. Sometimes that's okay too.

But in three weeks my insular world should open up a little more with the promise of a slightly less intense pressure. The grip that life has on me will lessen slightly and I'm going to learn to be a little bit selfish. Everyone should be once in a while if it means self-preservation and regaining the ability to push through the tougher parts of life.

I'm so slow with the lessons though. Takes me forever.