5 Things
#1 My adorable baby boy who does something charming and lovely every day - last Friday it was running into my bedroom with a tiny bouquet of flowers; "Fo' you Mama! And Daddy got a BIG flowers!!!" Tonight it was giving me a kiss and then telling me "You feel better now. Let's cuddle." And yes, two is hard, and I struggle with discipline, and occasionally he hits me in frustration, or pulls my hair, or throws himself to the ground and licks the floor of the bus while horrified passengers try not to stare. Sometimes he does all those things at the same time. But 98.9% of the time he is the sweetest, dearest, cuddle-monster who loves to do "art" to read books, to tell me about his day, and even, begrudgingly, to share. And that more than makes up for the other 1.1% of the time.

#2 My city. I am the least jingoistic person ever, but I got all teary-eyed several times today staring at the hand-painted signs in the window of every third house cheering "Go Canada Go!" I've read the Guardian's cynical criticisms (they called it the worst games ever). I won't bother linking because frankly, the article was silly, and I won't bother linking to the Canadian media response because it's been either overly defensive, or too apologetic. There have been hiccups, and even tragedy. But even as someone who normally feels completely detached from these sorts of events, there is something so electric about being here. About thousands of people from different countries coming together, celebrating and trying to each other a little bit about each other. Everywhere you go tourists and locals alike are wearing red Canada mittens. Strangers offer to help you fold up your stroller on packed city transit, and O.P.P. officers in town for just a few weeks help you carry your sleeping child up the stairs of the convention centre so you can have a glance at the flame. As LM would say "I so proud."

#3 My wonderful husband - who patiently explains to me the intricacies of curling rules and regulations and answers my 800 spaced out and repetitive questions, and then makes me dinner afterwards.

#4 The little one inside me who kicks and pounds and reminds me all is well. Sometimes I can even feel her bony little back against my tummy and I push her and she pushes back.

#5 My little boy again - who dashes out of the bathroom after Daddy has given his bath, drops his towel and yells "Mama! You like n@ked boys!" Which is funny because when I give him his bath I always tell him I like naked b@bies. (I censor that only because I'd hate to think what kind of bizarre Google searches it might attract.) And then he jumps up on my lap for a cuddle. Heaven.

