For the first time ever, my kids got together this summer with all their cousins at one time. We spent a week at my parents’ house in Montana, eating their free food, playing on their personal playground, and coloring with their crayons.

I have a doctor appointment this afternoon. At my last appointment, she asked if I wanted to be "checked" (and those of you who have been "checked" understand why I use quotation marks because it is quite another thing ENTIRELY) and I was all, "No thank you!" Because why would I want to do THAT?

This time? I am so getting checked. I have to know if these random, sometimes-painful, sometimes-breath-catching contractions I've been having every evening are DOING ANYTHING. And if they are not, I will be one unhappy pregnant lady for sure. Because what is the point of having contractions if they are not accomplishing anything? WHO HAS CONTRACTIONS FOR FUN?

I arrived to gather Maria from an afternoon with one of her favorite friends. They were in animal print dance-wear bouncing to The Lion King soundtrack.

She was not ready to go, and as I got closer she dashed off. She turned the corner like a rabbit running from a fox and disappeared into the sparkly pink warren that is her friend's well-stocked playroom.

Well, I did it. I have turned the page from summer freedom to school year schedules. As the kids prepared to leave for school, I will admit there was some whining about having to get up so early. And, yes, there was some begging to stretch out summertime “just one more day.” Oh, sure, there was even some pouting with a few “this is so unfair!” comments thrown in here and there.

The kids, though, were much better behaved than I was. I think they knew someone had to be mature about summer ending. I admit it. I am one of those moms who really does enjoy having her kids home with her. I love the summertime when we are together and free to go and do things on a whim. We can take trips on a moment's (or day’s) notice.

I'm not a nutritionist, but I play one in real life. Feeding this tribe for 11 years has taught me a thing or two (mostly the hard way). Motherhood has a way of requiring you to get up to speed – fast – on subjects for which people actually train professionally. (I'm expecting my degrees in emergency medicine and transportation logistics to be arriving any day.)

Magoo is the biggest source of laughter in my life right now. He is sweet, playful, kind, fun, and melon-headed. His life is a rollercoaster of emotions, from sad to happy to elated to full of despair. His mood changes at the drop of a hat.

He wants to be Spiderman, although he has no idea who Spiderman actually is. Today I turned around at a stoplight to find he’d removed his socks and shoes from his feet and was wearing his socks on his hands. He told me they were his Super Spiderman glubs.

As he gets older, Jack's harder to control in public. I'm told this is the normal progression of things. As the toddler learns more about his world, the more he strives to control it. We had our first meltdown in a restaurant a few weeks ago. We now expect to take him out of church halfway through the service.

So far, the moms' group has been a safe place for experimental toddler behavior, but yesterday I lost it. Yesterday I threw his things in the diaper bag, jammed a pacifier in his mouth and marched him out to the car because I couldn't deal anymore.

My brother asked me why I blog. Why write about my daughter, my family in such a public way?

I fell into it, I explained. It started because every small business in the world of Web 2.0 needs a blog and I wanted to connect with people like me who are teaching little ones to speak a second language. As it grew, it got fun and creatively freeing, an unexpected surprise.

I am not a great sleeper. No. I must amend that. I am not a great nighttime sleeper. I am either working (having become so entrenched in writing, I don't realize it is 3:47 a.m. and I need to be in bed) or I start playing a video game because my children (a.k.a. the little gamer pushers) begged me to do one last Game Quest with them. As I see the sun rise, I ground them all for making me stay up all night. Because, you know, it is their entire fault. I am just the tired parent.

Then there are those nights that I try to go to bed (like a person not imitating a vampire) and read or do something soothing.

All eyes are on Beijing right now, as the finest and fastest and strongest seek to dazzle an entire world with their exploits. There is pageantry, there is history, there is peace on earth, good will to men.

It is a beautiful sight to behold.

But I would submit that there is an equally challenging Olympics of sorts, being played out in minivans all over this great nation. In our family, it's an event my husband has always called "The Mommy Olympics."