Just breathe…

I am currently sitting at my (tear stained) table, when I am supposed to be doing some lame-ass completion of keyboarding for school (hey, I am fucking typing right now, so this should count!) and instead of doing the completion for keyboarding, I am spinning in some form of painful shame spiral. It is good times, over here.

My son got his first job today. I can’t put into words how proud I am of this little human (snort, little.. he is 6’2″) He is a great student, his teachers all love him and he gets good grades; he is a nice boy and has lots of friends who really like him; he is a great athlete and frequently gets awards for volleyball (his sport of choice); he is kind and respectful; he doesn’t get into ANY trouble (worst thing he does is avoid studying to play his iPad or watch tv); Like, LEGIT, we have no problems with this boy. And now he is 15 years old, going into high school (starts in grade 10 up here in the great white north), made the senior volleyball team (we call it senior, but it is also known as Varsity), has his classes chosen to help him get on the right track for university (where he wants to go to be a teacher), and now he has a job, too. Don’t get me wrong, I am so proud of him for going out and doing this. But…. my heart is still breaking.

He was my first baby. He was the first thing I ever truly loved at first sight. The day I held him in my arms, I knew that I would do anything for him. And that has never stopped or changed. But I worry that I haven’t done well by him. I worry I haven’t spent enough time with him. I worry that I left him alone too much. I worry that he had to grow up too fast. I worry that he felt lonely when I was busy doing other things. I worry that he felt sadness because of me.

My kids had to grow up faster than most when my marriage to their biological father disintegrated around all of us (seriously, it was for the best and should have happened sooner than it did…) And they had to bounce between houses, and listen to the poison and bullshit being spewed when I wasn’t there to guard them from it. They had to grow up too fast when they were put in the position to defend their mom to the man who was supposed to protect them. They had to grow up too fast when they were told to choose between him and their step-dad (whom loves them, and they called dad). They had to grow up too fast when they were put in the position to be more mature than the asshole that the courts were forcing them to spend time with. It breaks my heart that they were ever in that position, and I wish I could have protected them from it all. But the damned judicial system thinks it knows best, and just throws a blanket rule on everyone. Thanks for that…

When all of that hell-on-earth ended, I was alone. It was me and my kids. But I was also forced into the position to provide for them on my own. So I had two jobs, which pulled me away from them more than I would have liked. And eventually, I had a new dude, and we moved in with him. And as with any new relationship, we spent a lot of time together. I NEVER ignored my kids or shuffled them off to have alone time with my boyfriend. NEVER. But it was a shift that I always worried made them sad or lonely. And then I had a new baby. They LOVE their little brother, and he finished our family puzzle. But again, new baby means that I had less time for the older two. And the oldest one likely got the least attention of them all. Fast way forward, and middle kid gets diagnosed with diabetes. Guess what happened, again? Less attention to the oldest again… he was self-sufficient and didn’t require a ton of attention. Again, my heart breaks.

Fast way forward again… and now I am going to school and kind of super busy. And to make matters worse, the last 6-12 months have been particularly trying for my relationship, and a lot of time has been spent either in tears, fighting, trying to avoid fighting, or patching things up from fighting. And my poor kids have been on the outskirts while I have been clawing my way back into the happy place that I used to be in (let me just say this; being married to an un-medicated adult with adhd is NOT easy, especially when that person has no idea that anything is wrong.. but that is for another time). And my first baby, my tall baby, my blonde baby, my sweet blue eyed boy… I fear that he got less attention than he deserved because he was older, and just did his own thing, and didn’t really demand much for attention or anything (other than his volleyball, which I NEVER missed). And my heart breaks thinking about him alone in the basement, watching tv. Even if he chose it, and even if it is normal for teenagers to hole up in their rooms… what if he didn’t want to? What if he needed me? Or wanted me? But I was too preoccupied with school or the diabetic or the youngest boy or my flailing marriage… what if he wanted me and I wasn’t there for him? What if he felt sad and lonely and I wasn’t there for him? What if he felt like he wasn’t important or a priority? Fucking heart breaking……

And now he is going to go to work, and I will see him even less. This will be his life now. I had no idea that last summer was my last whole summer with him.. going outside and watching them jump on the trampoline, or going to the park, or watching them play in the sprinkler, or watching him screw around on his skateboard, or playing with his little brother like the amazing big brother that he is…. I would have paid more attention to every detail, I would have gone to the park one more time with him, I would have hugged him tighter………. Yes I am aware that getting a job doesn’t mean he doesn’t need me anymore. But it changes things. He’s changing. He is pulling away. He is able to do most things for himself. He is like this little self-sufficient human. He needs me less. But one thing won’t change; I will NEVER need him less. I will never forget his white-blonde mohawk on his tiny little perfect shaped baby head, or the sound he made when he slept, or how scared I was the first night I had him, or the first time I fed him, or how much my heart exploded when he looked at me with those bright blue eyes the first time, or when he grabbed my finger, or his first steps, or his first word, or his first day at school, or the first time he called me mom instead of mommy, or his first volleyball game, or his first tryout, or his first girlfriend, or his first big final exam, or his first time taking a driving test… and now, his first job.

He is my first baby, my first purpose, my first real breath. I just hope he never forgets how much I love him, and how hard I always tried.

They say you never forget your first love… I absolutely won’t. My first love calls me Mom.


Stay in your own lane….

I had a real issue this morning with road rage. I would like to say that it was directed at me, but truth is, I was shoveling it like it was my job. Everyone who was driving under the speed limit (not like a little bit, we are talking like 10km/h or more under, so don’t go getting all pissy and telling me they were just being cautious), the moron who cut me off because he apparently doesn’t know what advanced green arrows are, or the plethora of other asinine driving antics this morning just pissed me off to no end. Did I sleep well? No, but lets be real, what else is new. Was I in a bad mood when we left? No. I just got on the road and wanted to stab people.

Now, don’t get me wrong here, this post is not about traffic. Threw you off there for a second, didn’t I? It may have started with traffic, but it is delving deeper. I had a tea, had a shower and it hit me; was I mad at the drivers? No. I mean yes, I can’t fucking stand people who forget to take their heads out of their warm asses before getting behind the wheel. But my issue was more than that – it is people who refuse to stay in their own lane.

And this is where it leaves traffic…

My life is my life. Not yours. Not theirs. Not anyone else’s. It is mine. Just as other peoples lives are theirs. Not mine. I wish more people had this knowledge! If opinions and advice is sought, then by all means, two cents away. But until that point, stay in your own fucking lane. Do not judge me by my present, and for fuck sakes, don’t judge me by my past. There have been mistakes made, there have been events that shook me to my core, there have been issues that were others and were just dumped on me to fix and clean up, but I did it all. I stood on my own. I didn’t ask for help. I didn’t expect help. I didn’t take anything from anyone. I did it on my own, I did it my way, and I am still living my own life.

My life is not perfect. I was dragged into a LOT of shit by someone who shall remain nameless.. we will just call him “dickhead”. Lots of his choices were left on my shoulders, lots of his mistakes are still hovering in my background, lots of his opinions and negativity still swirl in my head. But I have my own lane now. I am no longer sharing his fucking idiot lane. I am in my lane, and he is in his. That is not to say that sometimes he tries to throw his blinker on and get back into my lane, but thats where my road rage comes in handy. I throw out a few choice expletives and speed away. Stay in your own lane, asshole.

I am now very choosy and picky about who I share my lane with. Not just anyone can share it. And if I don’t want you there, chances are good, you are well aware of my choice. I am not really all that demure (anymore.. there was a time where I was too afraid to speak my mind.. I also left that behind me, like an old busted ass broke down car). I like my life. I like where I am, and who I am here with. It may not make sense to most people, but it is my choice, my lane, and my life. So I don’t really care what anyone else thinks.

That’s not to say I am not JEALOUS AS FUCK of people who got their shit right on their first try. My god, wouldn’t it be nice to not have all the extra baggage that we have to carry around with us every day. Hell yes. But that isn’t our lane. Sometimes I want to punch people who complain about their life when they really have it so much easier than someone who’s on their second go at it. But I don’t.. cuz you know what? That is THEIR LANE! Their lane may not be riddled with (proverbial) abandoned samsonites like mine is, but still, their lane, not mine.

My husband and I have a good life. For us, it is quite charmed. For what we came from, it is a fucking fairytale. When I go to bed at night, I know I am exactly where I want to be, and with who I want to be with. There is no “what if”, no wondering, no imagining a different path (unless he was also on the path with me)… no questions at all. He is my person. He is my heart. He is my oxygen. My life isn’t perfect to you, but you know what is amazing? Your life isn’t perfect to me, either. So there, take that apple and shove it.

I might be jealous of the first try people, but unless my husband was my first try in this scenario, I wouldn’t want a do-over. I say this to him all of the time, and to anyone who asks “If you knew, would you still do it?”… absolutely. Yes. For him? I would do this over and over again if I ended up with him. I would find him, always, and choose him. Over and over. Forever. For always.

You don’t know my story, and if you do, you still won’t ever really understand it like I do. So stay in your own lane, and maybe I won’t go insane and key you.. although, maybe I will. That is the best part about road rage… its beautiful unpredictability. HAHAHAHA!

Cosmic shift, or some shit like that…

There are a few times in your life that you can sit back and just know that a giant shift is coming… some are obvious (duh, if you are about to give birth, you can pretty much expect a life changing shift in your future), before your wedding (even if you don’t show up to your wedding, everything is about to change for you), bla bla bla… I don’t think I need to go on, most people understand the concept.

Today is just like any other day – my kids are happily in their rooms doing their things, and likely mentally preparing for going back to school on Monday; my husband is sleeping soundly in our bed, preparing for another weekend at work; I am sitting in the living room happily typing away on my teal buddy, drinking my aminos and thinking about what is about to happen. Today is just like any other day, but it is different.

Monday marks a big shift in our lives – I am officially back to school as of January 8th. My kids all go back to school that day, too. But that isn’t big news. They’re excited, sure, but it is not as big as my old ass being a student again. This will be the third time in my life that I have been a college student. I have a couple other diplomas, but I am not a fan of them. I am lucky enough to have been able to be at home with my kids all these years, watching them grow, attending all of their school/sports events, being home when they are sick, spending an inordinate amount of time with my husband…. It has been nice, and it has filled my heart more than I can explain, but I felt like it was time for me to do something for ME. So back to school I go, to see if I can’t find my passion/niche.

Now, I know that there are going to be at least one or two (or a handful) of opinionated assholes who are going to think/say “welcome to the real world” and to them, here are both of my middle fingers. I may not have had normal 9-5 jobs this whole time, but I have worked. And not in the way that most stay-at-home-moms work… I have had jobs this entire time. It may not have been a “full time” job, but since when is that the only thing that equates to living in the “real world”? My life is hard, it has been harder, but it remains quite difficult and trying. My life is just as real as anyone elses, my struggles just as hard to deal with, my situation is not ideal or perfect by most peoples standards, but I have been fortunate enough to have a husband who provides well enough for our family that I can stay home and take care of my kids (one of whom has diabetes, and that shit is NOT easy to handle on a day to day basis, trust me) My life is real, it always has been real, and if you are a douchebag who is going to use the “welcome to the real world” on me, you can kindly fuck right off and keep your opinion up your ass, right beside your head.

Moving on….

I am going back to school. And sitting here, I am realizing that this is our last “do nothing” Friday. Any Friday after this will be filled with my schoolwork, exams, and eventually, work. My husband and I have been lucky – since we got together, he has had jobs with rather unorthodox shifts. At first, he worked 4-on-4-off, which gave us 4 days a week together. Right now, he only works Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. So we have had a LOT of time together, just him and I. We generally get every Monday-Thurday together. Even when I was working, I was off at noon, so we still had every afternoon together. It has been nice. I have been spoiled. And deep down inside, it is crushing me to know that this part of us is coming to a close (unless I only get a part time job.. but only time will tell).

I understand that it is normal, it is “real life” and millions of people live this way. But I haven’t. I have had a very “unusual” 7 years of my life, and I have loved every second. I have loved being with my kids, I have loved getting so much time with my husband, I have loved packing up and leaving at a moments notice during the week, I have loved not having to take time off for my sons Childrens Hospital appointments, I have loved hugging my kids on the couch when they are sick, I have loved taking them to school every day and being there every day to pick them up, I have loved being at every one of their assemblies/craft days/class parties/sporting events….. it has been anything but “normal” and I have loved it.

I don’t graduate for a year and a half, so I know that there is more of these moments in my future, but I also know that graduation is looming, and life will shift once more. It is a shift that will be fun and I am looking forward to, but when you are used to something being one way for so long, a change like this can feel cosmic.

But it was time. When I graduate, my oldest will be starting grade 11, middle will be starting grade 9 and my little baby boy will be going in to grade 3. My husband and I are talking about things he could possibly take online to further his education/employment, so we will see where that goes. But it is time. My kids will always need me, this I know. But I also know that by the time I go off to work, they will be self sufficient enough that my presence won’t be required all of the time. It both excites and saddens me.

But time and life march on, and this time, I am part of the parade, not just a spectator.


the fuck is it Christmas already!? I remember sitting on this couch typing about taking my tree down last year, and it feels like that just happened.

Yet here we are, another holiday season is swarming us all, and I am baffled at how fast it has gone by!

Christmas is always so hustly-bustly.. and it has never been a favorite of mine. I am not so much a grinch, as much of just someone who doesn’t really like it. Or enjoy it. Or really look forward to it. I found this year to be a lot more stressful than other years, too. And yet, at the same time, it was totally chill.

Who the fuck knows what is going on. Perhaps my old-person senility is setting in much sooner than I had anticipated it to.

All I know is that jolly fat man/peeping pervert is going to be shimmying his fat ass down everyones chimneys tomorrow night, and it feels surreal to me that it is already upon us.

I guess all I can do now is grab a bottle (or four) of baileys and settle in. Because the madness is upon us, whether I am ready for it or not!

I can say this, I am going to cherish the shit out of this holiday season, as I fear it is the last that we will have with that little bit of Christmas magic. My youngest is 6 now, and still believes in Santa. I love to see the glimmer in his eye when he talks about the magical things that happen this time of year. And I will play along as long as he wants me to, because once he no longer believes, I think Christmas is going lack a lot of the sparkle it has now. There is just something about a little kid who believes that makes this time of year so much more special. And I am going to hang on with both hands for as long as he will let me. My older two just stopped believing one day. I never had that talk with them, they just stopped. I never really knew what happened or why, but they are good sports and pretend for their little brother, which is so sweet to see.

I am not big on Christmas. I never have been. But I always do my best for my kids. That is who it is really for, after all, isn’t it?

One thing I am sure of without a doubt, I am very much looking forward to 2018! Lots of awesome shit is in the pipe for me and my family, and I am gonna smoke the fuck out of it. Not really, as smoking is vile and makes me quite ill. But you get my point.

Merry fucking Christmas, to you and yours!!!!

DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE —— DO NOT DRINK AND DRIVE!!!! Stay safe, for your sake, and everyone else’s.


What do you say when “I love you” just isn’t enough? 

“I love You” – three of the most powerful words in existence. On their own, they really aren’t anything spectacular or special, but when you combine them, their power knows no limit.

But what do you say when you feel like those three words don’t even scratch the surface? Just aren’t enough to explain how you feel? Just lack the proper depiction of how you truly feel?

Herein lays my predicament.

Ordinarily, I spend my days being sarcastic and quippy – I am witty and I joke. Call it a defense mechanism, call it what you want – but I don’t tend to let my emotions out to play. But when it comes to my husband, all of that pushes aside and opens up a side of me that I didn’t think existed before he came along. That is not to say that I was heartless or mean before him, but I sure as shit didn’t feel anything close to what I feel now.

I don’t honestly believe I had any idea what love was, or had ever experienced love, before my husband.

Lets preface this with this; I love my kids. I have always loved my kids. I have never been cold or unloving to them. So lets remove any bullshit accusations from this post before they even arise, mkay? Loving my kids wasn’t something that took me by surprise – it is a different kind of love. It just was. Same goes for family. Now that we have that out of the way….

Moving on….

So, what can you say when “I love you” just isn’t enough? I feel like every time I say these three words to him, it is a lame-ass joke, a farce, and totally lackluster. Because that which I feel for him goes so much deeper than just love. What we have is no ordinary love. It is not something most people know and experience. We have the shit that reaaaaaaally sappy movies and books are written about. Him and I exist on a plane that most will never experience. I love him in ways that the majority of the earth won’t ever know or feel.

Everyone feels love differently. That is not to say that what I feel is not what others feel, or what they feel is not one hundred percent real to them. All I know is this is insane shit,  and sometimes it stills scares me. It has been over seven years, and it still scares me shitless. I am not sure if that is normal, but it’s real. I have spoken, in great detail, to friends and family about this, and their experiences with love and all that mushy shit. And what I can tell you is that what my husband and I have is rare. And real. And different.

So what do you say when you know that “I love you” pales in comparison to how you genuinely feel? I guess you say this…..

To my husband;

You put me back together – before you, I was numb. I didn’t feel, and I didn’t want to. I did what I had to to get through each and every day, I wore a smile that I rarely believed, and my heart was solidly guarded behind a lot of pain, fear and sarcasm. I didn’t let myself feel. I didn’t let myself want. I didn’t let myself dream, or hope, or love. I was happy that way. It was what it was. I had my life and my kids, and I figured that was it for me. Then you came along and put me back together. Took my wall down brick by brick, with love in your eyes and understanding in your heart. You helped me put my broken shattered pieces back together, and in a way that was so much better than I ever imagined. You showed me that love is actually real, and that I was worthy of it, after so many years of me believing otherwise.

I miss you – we spent so many months apart, separated by hours and hundreds of miles, when we first started dating. In those times, I didn’t feel like I was whole. Like a part of me was missing. Previous to you, I didn’t realize that anything was missing. But once I had you, I knew that there was. And once I had you, I never wanted to be without that piece again. So now that we are together, have a home, have a life, and spend every day with each other, I don’t want to ever not be by your side. With you beside me, I feel safe. I feel like everything will be okay, like nothing is really that bad.. that together, we can do anything, and overcome anything. When you aren’t with me, I miss you, it hurts to breathe, and I feel like you take a piece of me with you. Even when you are in the other room, you are too far away. That doesn’t mean I can’t survive without you beside me, it just means I don’t fucking want to anymore.

I need you – I feel like part of me is missing when we aren’t together. You keep me calm. You make me smile. You fill the missing parts of me that nobody else ever could. You aren’t just my other half because we are married, and that is just what people say; you are my other half because that is who you are. You complete me and make me feel whole. You make me feel real. You have shown me who I am and who I can be, and I never want to feel anything other than that way with you by my side.

I am scared – I am scared on so many levels. I am scared to lose you. I am scared to lose us. I am scared that one day I will wake and you will be gone. I am scared that you will realize all of the horrible things I still think about myself are actually true and you will leave me. I am scared that something else will take you from me. I am scared that people who have been fighting to make this end for us will eventually win. I am scared that the universe will make one last attempt and it will shatter what we have. I am not scared to be alone – I can be alone – I have before. I am scared that I won’t have you by my side and there will be a loneliness that I have never endured and it will end me. I am scared of losing you, because with you, I finally found who I am, and I never want to feel lost or alone again.

You make me happy – you make me happier than I ever thought a person could be. We don’t even have to be doing anything, and I am happy. I have never been this happy in my whole life. I get shivers and tingles just looking at you. Hearing your laugh brings me more joy than I ever thought a simple laugh could. Even just sitting beside you makes me feel so much happiness and peace. I never realized just how miserable I was until you came along and showed me what real happiness felt like. You make me so happy, so unbelievably fucking happy.

You calm me down – I have fought insomnia all of my life. I have had problems sleeping as far back as my memory will allow me to remember. Even when we started dating, I was on prescription sleeping pills. It wasn’t until that first night that you came to my house, laying on my bed, and I rested my head on your chest (something I had done before, but never with you) and my eyes closed for what I felt was just a quick moment, but hours had passed. Right then, I knew you were someone special to me. The sound of your heart beating calms me down and I can fall asleep immediately. I have never felt that peace before in my whole life. I sleep with you. You calm me. You make me feel safe. I have never slept as well as I do with you beside me.

You are my person – it is no secret, I like you. But you have taken on a roll that not many people could ever live up to. You are my person. You are the only person I need to talk to every day. You are the only person who makes me smile, calms me down, speeds up my heart and slows it down at the same time, I want to tell all of my secrets and stories to, knows everything about me and still wants to stay, can make me laugh and cry at the same time, makes me happier than I thought possible, shows me the beauty in everything, brings me peace and hope, keeps optimism alive (even if it is in the dark recesses of my brain), shows me that there is a silver lining and always helps me to see it…. you are my person. You are my everything.

You are my everything – I don’t really know how else to say this… words alone can not begin to explain how much I love you. How deeply I love you. How much I need you. How important you are to me. What you mean to me. What you have done for me. What you continue to do for me.

You are my everything. You are my heart. You are my past, my present and my future. You are my person. You are my heart and soul. You are my every thought and dream. You are the air in my lungs and the love in my heart. You are the best parts of me, and the hope that keeps me going. You are my positive, my light and my happiness.

You, my husband, are my love. The only love I have ever known. You are my other half. You are everything to me. And I can not begin to explain how much I love you or what you mean to me, but maybe these words will make it a fraction more clear.

I. Love. You.


Holy shit show, batman!!

Do you ever have those weeks  where you just say to yourself “what the fucking fuck is going on!?” Yep, welcome to week 1 of September 2017!!
BOOM! (that was the sound of all of the shit shows exploding all at once)

It started out as any week would…. with a Monday. This was no ordinary Monday, though, it was a holiday Monday that preceded the first day of school for my 3 kids. We went about our ordinary “back to school” business – laundry, backpacks, hair cuts, etc. And then the hour was upon us – DUN DUN DUN!!!

This year we have to drive our oldest to the high school. Fear not; the grade 9’s have their own wing… their own area with their own lockers, bathrooms, classrooms and eating area. It basically is its own self-sufficient little pond in amongst the big pond that is high school. We had explained this to our son many times, and even showed him previous to the school year starting at the “meet the teacher night” that we attended, like the good little nerds that we are. We showed him around, helped him with his locker, figured out where his classrooms were, discovered the gym and cafeteria (he was elated to see the food options now, unlike the school he had before, which only did a basic hot lunch program). He got excited about school council (it helped greatly, I’m sure, that the girl telling him about it was this tiny perky little adorable blonde girl). He was hugely excited for volleyball tryouts (again, the girls volleyball team was there to help hand out the kids schedules, and again, adorable little perky girls). Learned that his 3 best friends from junior high were all in his homeroom, and the rest of his friends were in the homeroom next door, and in a few of his options. All in all, he was happy.

So on the first day of school, he got out, I did the typical “mom thing” and took his picture in front of the school sign (I have every year since he started kindergarten) and didn’t do anything mommish or embarrassing, and sent him on his way into his new school. Then we rushed across town to drop the other two yahoo’s off.

Our middle kid, our little diabadass, our space cadet – he was fine. We had a meeting with the grade 7 staff a few days before school, as to teach them “how not to kill our son this year”. So he was fine to start, and excited to see his friends. He is low maintenance (diabetes aside) and has a “zero fucks given” mentality about most things. He’s easy (again, diabetes aside… but you can win them all).

And our little guy…. awww… my baby! He started grade 1. And he was FINE! He was excited that he got a locker this year, found his seat, sat down, and my husband and I became vapor. I still stuck around a bit, cuz fuck, he’s still a baby! I keep getting told that he isn’t (he is almost 6) but those people can fuck right off…. Regardless, he was fine. Least of my worries.

Kids came home, and everything was fine. Smiles at the dinner table, stories of the first day and reconnecting with their friends. Happy times. Mom win.

Wednesday morning hits…. I am in BLISSVILLE, as I am home alone. Kids are at school, hubby picked up a last minute overtime shift…. so I was going to get my Starbucks and go read in the peace and quiet of my house… clean the bathrooms and revel in how pissless they remain for the entire day. I had big plans, I tell ya. Then my phone dings at Starbucks, and it is my oldest —

“I don’t want to try out for volleyball this year”

BOOM. What the actual fuck. My son LOVES volleyball like fat kids love McDonalds. This is not right.

“excuse me?!” fumbling for my scalding hot coffee and trying to not spill it on myself.

“I want to spend the year getting myself acquainted with the new school”

“no” I pull no punches.. while trying to catch my breath, as it felt like I was punched in the gut.


Holy shit. What did he just say to me?! “WHAT!? drop the attitude please, sir!”

By this point, I was in my truck, dialing my husband, and flying back in the direction of the high school. Little shit wants to text me this crap, he can say it to my damned face! The face that has spent countless hours driving him to and from practices, watching every game and tournament, spent hundreds upon hundreds in volleyball camps, shoes, kneepads, clothes, bla fucking bla.

So I am literally shrieking into my truck phone, which I am sure sounded like screaming squirrel to my husband, who is blissfully working away, but still forced to listen to the ramblings of my seriously unbalanced psyche. By the time I get to the school, I am fuming mad. “fuck this… I did NOT raise a pussy ass quitter!!!” And I go marching into the school, parked in the 15 minute drop off. I give zero fucks at this point… except the fact that my “extra hot” latte is sitting in there getting all cold and shit.

I walk in, trying my best to not look like a fucking lunatic, and thank shit that I did my makeup that morning, so as to not scare the fuck out of everyone around me.

“hi!” big smile as I talk to the secretary I’ve never met before, “my son left his lunch money in the truck”, I lie, knowing she wouldn’t’ pull him out of class had I said “little fucker is trying to be a punk ass quitter and I need to strangle him!”

So he comes down the hall of his wing, sees me, and breaks down. I wasn’t glaring, I just looked up at him. Holy fuck, like, monster meltdown. I drag him outside as to not make a scene, and ask him what the fucking fuck…..

Scared. Big school. Big kids (he is 6’1″ I should point out). New teachers. New people. I get it. I’ve done it (not the 6’1″ part, thank you, genetics)! So I try to calm him down and talk some reason into his erratic thoughts. Nope. So I drag him over to the counsellor, who does a 180 and marches us right back into her offie upon seeing his face. He was not ok. We chatted a bit and then she sent me away, as to avoid a parking ticket (holy fuck, that would have just been the shit icing that day!)

He texted me later, and he was fine. Met his volleyball coach, and she is this cute little lady, not threatening at all. He was fine. Took him back to the school for his 5:30 tryout, and only 8 other boys are there. Sweet. No cuts! He had a great time. All smiles when I picked him up.

Lets skip ahead to 1am that night. My little diabadass, my low maintenance “I give zero fucks” kid pulled the children of the corn shit on me, standing at my bedside at 1am, staring at me until I awoke, barely refraining from hitting the body standing beside me.

“I have a stomach ache” ……. BOOM.

“okay, get back to bed and I will come check your blood sugars” And sure enough, they were elevated. So I plug a correction into his pump and grab him some water.

“I feel overwhelmed by junior high”…. fuck.

“uh, it is the second day of school. What could possibly be overwhelming already”

“I am nervous about finals. There is so much to learn…”

FUCK! Breathe, Jennie… don’t smother your child…..

“Okay”, breathe in and out, “lets talk about that in the morning” and I walk away, grinding my teeth, wondering if I screamed into a pillow, if I would wake anyone. Then I lay awake in bed until almost 3, because the little assbag scared me so bad standing beside me, and my adrenaline is pumping because of the bullshit he just spewed…. no sleep for the wicked, indeed.

Thursday morning…. “oh children of mine. Perhaps in the future, if you all feel like melting down and having some little freakouts, would you be so kind as to do them at a MORE APPROPRIATE HOUR!?!?!?!? Like at dinner when you are straight up asked how school is going!? MY FRICKING GAWD!!!!!” and they stared at me with open mouths, like, how dare she, why is she losing her mind!?

*insert crazy ass laugh here*

I thought I was in the clear until 3:16 on Friday when my phone went ding. I was walking into my youngest kids school, again blissfully unaware that another boom was coming.

“I don’t want to go to volleyball today”


mother of fucking hell……

“and why pray-tell not?” breathe in and out, Jennie….

“she made us play this game last time, and it was hard. and it took like a half an hour”

okay, here comes another ‘holy fuck, my mom is losing it’ moment……

“you have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. YOU WILL NOT BE A QUITTER! You like volleyball. So, go like it again. Stop being a whiner when things aren’t easy, or you have to actually try. GO! TRY! Enough is enough! I am done with this. Life is going to suck for you if you don’t ever try and you give up when you feel like it isn’t going to be easy!”


fuck my life…. he said it again…. as though the first time wasn’t enough of a warning….

“you have got to be kidding me. Attitude. Say goodbye to it, or you can say goodbye to your iPad, phone, Apple TV, xbox, life as you know it…. you will live an amish existence if you can’t get your head out of your ass and behave as though you are the kid that I RAISED!”

“ok. see you at 5:30. Love you”

Yeah, you fucking better………

“love you, too. Have fun.”


“hey buddy how was volleyball?”

“GREAT! I had so much fun. Coach said I am doing good. I just need to practice my setting, but my serves and hitting are really good!”

I was right. I am always right. Bow to my wonder.

“well we already knew your setting needed work, you have long frozen hot dogs for fingers” this made him laugh, so I had my opening, “what is wrong buddy. Why don’t you like yourself?”

“I don’t think I am anything special or worthwhile.”


“I don’t see what you see. You guys all tell me all the time how special I am, and how I should be happy with who I am and how I am, but I don’t see it. I am skinny and weak”

AH HA!!!! We have a crack in the armor!!!

“Yeah, you are skinny and weak! You grew like 4 or 6 inches in a very short period. You grew straight up SO fast!! But your growing will slow down now, and now you will fill out. It happens! Some people are built this way. And you are weak because you are lazy and only sit on your ass and play iPad. Volleyball and athletic development will help”

And he smiled. I think I have helped, but I still call for reinforcements. I call my mom, who spent her night texting him and telling him stories of me and my siblings. He has no idea about this, he just sees us now and never assumed any of us were bullied or picked or had a hard time. I called my best friend and she almost broke down and talked me down off of my “oh my god, I suck at parenting, I should have done better!” ledge. She took his phone number to text him, too. My husband spent the night and next day telling him stories of when he was small and was bullied, and how he changed it. We showed him pictures of when all of us were young and skinny and awkward as fucking hell.

My fucking god, lets hope this all helped. He has volleyball tomorrow night – cross your damned fingers that he goes in with a smile and comes out with a smile. Cuz I am not sure I can handle any more days where I feel like a gigantic failure of a parent, and wonder where I went wrong. And I don’t ever want him having any more moments where he feels like he is nothing special.

My diabadass is fine. Once we explained that finals occur AFTER you learn all of that stuff, he chilled and is back to his ‘zero fucks given’ existence. And my baby… well…. I still think he should stay home with me. But he is refusing, so whatever, I guess I am happy that he is enjoying grade 1, so far.

Holy fucking fuck… what a week. And now, once again, because of last week, my coffee is cold. Damnit.

When things change…



All three of my kids started school today. It was a big day for us. We had one start high school (only because in this stupid town, high school starts in grade 9), one start junior high and one start elementary.

It was a big day. We drove our oldest to school – a different school than his brothers for the first time ever. We pulled up to the high school, in the mess of busses and vehicles, and I quickly jumped out of the truck to snap a pic in front of the school sign. I have taken pic of them at school on the first day since he started kindergarten. But this year, he didn’t want us to go in with him. Sigh. Fine, I will just take a pic in front of the sign, in front of all of the busses and vehicles. I will show you, teenager. Hahaha!

Then we rushed back across town to drop off the other two. We walked in today, already knowing where our kids were going, because we got in to the school when no one else did. Thanks, diabetic kid. Hey, you have to find the perks where you can, right? So while the hundreds of kids were surrounded by their clueless parents, wandering the hallways and clogging doorways, we just strutted in (flipping lots of people off in our minds…. gift of my way…) But we dropped our little diabadass off in his grade 7 classroom, asked the teacher to keep him alive, and went about our business.

Business being…. dropping our baby boy off for his first day of elementary. Sure, he had kindergarten last year, but I still got him all to myself 3 days a week. Plus weekends. And now? Only after school and weekends until he graduates… and then he’s leaving me! Do you see how fast this is happening!? He is gone full time now, learning, growing, and I am not there to be the one to show him what to do or help him when he gets frustrated. Fuck, I am so not ready for this. It has been me and him for so long! But he promised me that he would still hug me every day… holy, shattered heart! My baby!!!! *sob*

So as a way to welcome our new way of life, my husband and I went to get pedicures, cleaned the house and then went to a patio and had some drinks. It is the first time it has really been just him and me. We moved in together soon after getting together (and had lived 4 hours apart), never really dated or any of that time consuming shit. And then I got pregnant reallllly soon after moving in together (we don’t fuck around, actually, we did… hahahaha) So right off the bat, it has been me and him, but always with other people.

I brought my 2 boys into the relationship (hello, baggage!) and then got pregnant right away. So from the beginning, it has been me and him and them. And while my older two have been in school since we moved in together, I also worked full time until our little dude was born, so it wasn’t really just me and him, ever.

So, now, facing this new part of our life, I am excited but also apprehensive. I am nervous… what if this change in our life isn’t good? What if spending so much time together creates a rift? What if our buffer (our children) not being here makes him realize that he doesn’t really like me?

Yes. All of this is troubling me, as fucking stupid as it may seem. It is a change, it is a big change. I will be starting school in January, but until then, it is just him and me and our days together. He only works weekends, so we have all week, every week, just him and me. It has never been just him and me.

What if he doesn’t like me?

I know this seems absurd, but I can’t be the only one who ever felt this way, worried this way, felt this concern.

It’s a change… a shift in our life… our pattern is changing…..

What if he doesn’t like me?

It’s the most wonderful time of the year..

Sanctimommies, crunchy granola moms, moms without any experience in this, and in general, snarky bitches… take a seat, and then carry it far far away… this post is not for you.

Now that that is out of the way… lets discuss the topic at hand; the most wonderful time of the year. And no, I am not talking about when the crimson dressed stalker pedophile comes shimmying his fat ass down your chimney (tell me you haven’t ever thought of Santa that way? Cuz if you haven’t, you are gonna now, aren’t you!?)

I am talking about back to school!! Now, our neighbors to the south have already ditched their kiddos a few weeks back, while us Canadians have been in the trenches a little while longer. But, that is all about to end! We have ONE WEEK LEFT PEOPLE!!!

But who’s counting?

Oh wait, I fucking am!!

Now, lets make one thing clear, I love my kids. They are the light in my eye, my greatest accomplishment, my favorite little humans, bla bla bla. I do though – I adore them – those little crotch goblins make me very happy.

HOWEVER! Being in close quarters with them for months at a time…. that is so no bueno!!

My kids are smart, they are gifted, they are funny, they are kind, they are gracious, they are considerate, they are thoughtful, they are bright, they are cute, they are athletic… people, as a whole, seem to enjoy them. That being said…. they are also annoying as shit at times and get under my skin in a way that not many can. So a little space between us all may be a good idea right now. Let’s be serious – it is the ONLY option right now. For the sake of all of us, it must be done.

I miss them when they are at school, sure. And this year will be even different. My oldest is starting high school, my middle is starting junior high and my baby is starting elementary. It is a big year. Big changes. Big shift. Now they will be in two schools, two different schedules, two sports teams, two sets of administrators to get to know… its a shift in our space time continuum. But we will handle it, just as we always do.

Lots of parents get sad on the first day of school, and this year I probably will be one of them. But instead of wallowing, my husband and I are going to get pedicures and go for drinks on a patio. Yup. You heard it… pedis and cocktails! (my husband is only coming with me so I am not alone, as every pedicure I have ever had has been with my best friend, but she moved away last year… and his “cocktail” will consist of beer, and possibly tequila… lets just hope our shit-ass Alberta weather holds up for just another week and a half… hopefully longer.. so not ready for winter yet, but that is for another time)

I’m ready. It is time.

Take me back to routine. Take me back to packed lunches and little ice packs. Take me back to hugs on the way to class and hugs at pick-up (not the older two, obviously). Take me back to smiles and stories in the truck on the way home. Take me back to “best part – worst part” over dinner. Take me back to volleyball practice and games on the weekends. Take me back to quiet for a few hours a day!

I adore my fuck trophies. But god damn, do I fucking also love peace and quiet. And after 2 solid months of “mom, can I…” I am ready to be the only person asking myself for things for a few hours a day. Not that I talk to myself a lot, but truthfully, sometimes I do. Hey, sometimes its the only pleasant conversation I have all day long… hahahahaha!!!

So, parents, raise your wine bottle to the sky and repeat after me…..

….. it’s the most wonderful time of the yeeeeear…..

I’ll see you all back in the trenches next June… but for now…. Bye Felicia.



I have always loved this quote. It makes you really think of your damage as less of a break and more of a glow.

I haven’t been feeling very put together lately. My levels of confidence ebb and flow like some sort of deranged asshole riptide. I am doing so much better than I used to be, but I still sometimes feel like I’ve regressed. Lately, total regression. But why?

Things are going so well for me. Truth be told, I am very stupid happy. So why? Why do I feel cracked? I know I am a bit of a self-sabotager, but I do not think even I am stupid enough to sabotage my own happiness! OR am I… fuck.

I was broken as shit for a very long time. Some days I don’t feel like I will ever get put back together. But for the most part, I feel like I am totally glued back together in a pretty decent way. I know I will never be perfect.. way too much damage for that to ever be possible. But for now, I am okay with being perfectly imperfect.

I mean, right now I am running on nearly no sleep, an increased level of stress, a slight higher level of anxiety… but that is where I usually thrive! Or maybe not so much thrive, as just exist….

Perhaps… if I am going to be all silver lining and shit, this is all just happening because the universe thinks that I need some more light, so my cracks are opening a bit to let more light in. (hahaha yeah, I heard it)

Or maybe I just need some more fucking sleep.

Strong, but exhausted…



This last week has been a bit of a ride for us. Well, to be completely honest, it has been quite the ride since our son was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes in 2015. But this week, he got his insulin pump, and we had to learn how to not kill him all over again. The learning consisted of us sitting in a classroom at the University of Alberta, with 8 other families, all with children there, while two nurses stood at the front of the class, and tried to cram as much insulin pump knowledge into our heads as we could handle before we all exploded.

To say this was stressful would be an understatement. I am not a fan of kids, and this classroom had kids of all ages (mine was one of the oldest) running amok for 3 days. Lucky for us, there was a small room in the back of the classroom (the old projector room) and it had a door. Score for me. I stuffed my kids in there for the training and let them go rampant on their iPads. Grade A parenting? Probably not, but I give zero shits. I wish I could say that solved all of the annoying kid problems, but that would be a lie.

That is not to say I didn’t feel bad for these kids. The little girl in front of us was less than 3 years old, and she had an insulin pump stuck to her tiny little chubby belly. I felt so bad for her, but laughed when she spilled her moms Perrier… we are all in this together. And the fact that she called it “rotten juice’ just made me snort laugh. She may have her insulin pumping into her from a thing on her hip, but she is still a funny little kid.

We learned a lot, one of the things I learned was that I could run on less than 2 hours of sleep and not murder the snotty bitch sitting in front of me. So, score for me. I also learned that the carpet in there is no longer stain resistant, and that you can smell spilled iced caramel macchiatos for hours after sopping them out of the rank ass carpet. I really think I did that aisle a favor – at least our area was aromatic in a good way.

For months leading up to this, I have been stressed and trying to remain calm; trying to convince myself that I can actually pull this shit off. But for months, all I have wanted was a shoulder to cry on. And while I did get that sometimes, I mostly heard “you are strong. You will be fine”. And while I appreciated the kudos and props, I didn’t believe it. And to me, that more or less just felt like placating so that people didn’t have to hear me talk about diabetes anymore.

I have lost so many people because of this disease. My life is no longer my own, and I lack new things to talk about most days. I am tired. I was up all night. Middle-little’s numbers are rubbish. Bla bla bla. But you know what? That IS my life right now. That is not to say I don’t miss my friends, or my sons functioning pancreas. But alas, not all things last forever…. and with his pancreas, so along went a lot of my friendships. C’est la vie.


I know I can do this. I know I am strong. I know I am capable. I know I am smart. I know that my son is lucky to have me. But some days, I don’t fucking want to anymore. I want to crumble. I want to bawl. I want to have a total hissy fit and throw things. I want to spit at the heavens. I want to sleep through the night. I want to sit down and eat without doing math. I want to fucking fall apart. But I can’t. It hasn’t been allowed of me.

You know that old saying “you don’t know how strong you are until that is your only option” WELL! I fucking knew how strong I was and I didn’t need a lesson or reminder… and yet, here I am!

Some days I feel like it is totally unfair. Not for me, but for my son. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve this future; this mortality hanging over his head for the rest of his life.

But it could be worse.

He has me. I am strong. I am smart. I am tenacious. I don’t give up. I am strong. I am strong. I am strong.

I am also fucking exhausted.