Closed for business…

People all around me are reproducing at an alarming rate. Just in the last 9 months, 4 new baby’s have directly entered my life, with 2 more sort of indirectly. Count it people, that is 6 babies. Six! Holy pampers, that is a lot of tiny humans.

I like a baby as much as the next person… actually, that is not true. I have never been the type to gush and goo over babies, it just isn’t in my dna. But all the power to those who do. However, with the sudden onslaught of little people entering my life, it has made me blatantly aware of one thing: I am SO happy I am all done with that part of my life!

My ovaries are just for show now, and I could not be happier. I know a few people who have been really hesitant and sad about shutting that part of their life down, but me? Not even one single second thought.

Truth be told, I had an appointment to have my tubes done when I was 29. I was a divorced single mother of 2 crazy boys, and I was just done. As fate would have it, I spent the better portion of my night prior to my surgery in absolute turmoil over my recent breakup with my boyfriend (whom is now my husband, as fate is a finicky bitch sometimes!) and I slept through my alarm for my surgery and didn’t get them done. I suppose fate had other ideas, as a mere 6 months later, I was pregnant with my littlest boy. I can’t imagine life without him in it, so I guess sleeping through my alarm was some form of kismet, as I NEVER sleep through alarms.

But I knew I was done with my littlest guy. I could feel it, and honestly, I DESPISE being pregnant. I was not one of those “oh the magic! The miracle!” people, I fucking hated it. It is not that I had bad pregnancies, they were really simple and lacking any sort of drama. But, I still hated being pregnant. I think some people just do, and I am for sure leading that parade.

The day I had my littlest guy was a bit of a gong show. I had discussed having my tubes done with my doctor in my last few appointments. And because I was older (30) and in a committed relationship (the aforementioned boyfriend – our “breakup” lasted less than a month and a half, and to be honest, we never really severed all ties, and thought about each other every day, and still talked alllllll the time…. I think it was more of a pause than anything… sometimes people need a beat to breathe…) I was granted a tubal ligation. So at the hospital, I signed the papers and we had our baby. And while my husband was giving him his very first bottle ever, my baby factory was being closed for business. Not a single tear. Not a single pause. Not a single question. Just cut, clamped and cauterized, and carried on with my life.

Have I ever thought about having another? What it would be like to have a baby girl? To add to our little family? FUUUHUUUUCK no. Not even for a second. I was given 3 boys, and I am so happy with that. I am closed for business, and I feel like I am complete.

Some women see babies and they say their ovaries skip a beat. When I see babies, I think they are cute, I silently laugh to myself over the sleepless nights and poopy hell that the parents are now in for, I rub their tiny little adorable heads, and me and my ovaries celebrate with a big fat gin and tonic.

I am at peace with it. It all ended up how it was supposed to. But holy damn are there a lot of babies being born right now!! It must have been really cold last winter.

Yet another road block…

To say my life has been easy, or handed to me, would be a bold faced lie. I have had to fight, tooth and nail, for everything that I have. I am a little bitter that it has been so hard for me, when I watch everyone else just cruise and get what they want with little effort. That is not to say that everyone I know doesn’t work hard for what they have (most of them, some of them are just straight up lazy asses who let everything just get handed to them…) but when all you have are the normal obstacles, you never really will understand the larger ones in life.

That’s me – the wrangler of the large ass obstacles. I would like to say that I have done this all with grace and compassion, but that’s straight up shit. I have been angry, I have been mad, I have cried, I have cursed what brought me to this point, I have plotted the conducters demise (yep. I have. judge away.. I care not), I have flipped my shit and screamed at the unfairness of this entire situation. None of that has helped, but I do believe it has helped me maintain a shred of sanity – no one can leave that much hostility bottled up without going bat shit crazy. That being said, I have also kept a smile on my face, I have kept trying, I have kept my kids happy and healthy and well adjusted, I kept my sobriety (which I believe is a feat all on its own!), I have kept my life fairly balanced, and I still have all of my hair! hahaha….

I have fought back and won. I know very few people who could do what I have done… life is not easy when everything is taken from you all at once. Literally, everything. I had me and my kids, and everything else, I had to fight for and get on my own. NOTHING has been handed to me. NO ONE can say that I wouldn’t be where I am if it weren’t for them (except maybe the asshole who fucked things up for me in the first place). Everything I have and everything I am is because I refused to give up, I am tenacious, and I did everything in my power to get back on my own two feet. I mean, my husband helped, but that wasn’t so much a silver platter as it was a partner in crime. Everything I have, everything we have, has come from hard work, grit and determination. Imagine living your life with literally no credit. None. Not even a dollar. Could you do it? I fucking doubt it. But I did, and we did, and now look where we are.

And even with everything we have done, accomplished, fought for, striven for, rebuilt… I am still finding myself facing road blocks. Bull shit from my past that never should have affected me in the first place, but I was unfortunate enough to be tied to one of the most selfish pieces of shit on the planet. But I digress, that was then and this is now.

And while I sit back and watch people go about their lives, spending money like it is not an issue (and for some it isn’t, but for some, it damned well is…) I am sitting here, despairingly, and a bit heartbroken, because I have a plan for my life, something I desperately want to do, something for me, and I can’t. I just can’t.

My life is my own, but I am also living in the shadows of other peoples choices, and it affects my life every day. I have chosen to live my life happily, in spite of the constant shit I had to endure. And I am happy I did. But it would be nice to just live my life, the way I want to, without the constant reminder of the heinous bullshit people pulled on me.

I am happy. I love my life. I love my husband and my kids. I just wish that things were easier, sometimes. But I suppose it is what it is, and there’s nothing I can do to change the past.

Six months. In just six months I will get exactly what I want, once again, on my own. I guess in a way, it is amazing and awe inspiring that I have been able to do what I have done, on my own. Not many can say that. But I can. And that is something that no one can take away from me.

Not just your run of the mill love story.. 


There is love, the kind of love that most people experience. You enjoy being around the person, you choose to have a life with them, start a family, spend your days with them.. this is the way that most of civilization experiences “love”. 

Then there are the people who HAVE to be around one another, or they physically hurt. That’s where I fall. 

My husband and I have a very strange story. It’s the kind of thing that really cheesy summer movies are written about. What kind of person just puts their head in a strangers lap, looks up and quotes Forest Gump, and holds her hand? My husband, that’s who. That’s how we met. And from the day I met him, I knew he was different, and I think he would say the same about me – in fact, he has. We didn’t get together right off the bat. We had years and years of our own lives, own paths, own focus. 

But something life altering brought us together, and since the first time he messaged me, I can’t get enough of him. It’s more than just a want or desire, it’s an actual need. He has told me repeatedly that he’s addicted to me. And I agree. I’ve tried to explain this to friends before and they smile, but I don’t think anyone really gets it. 

When he’s not with me, even if we are only separated for a few minutes or hours, or days (which has only happened 4 times in our entire relationship) I feel like a piece of me is missing. Not in the gross Nicholas Sparks velveeta novel sort of ways, but like there is a literal piece of me missing. 

Trevor and I have spent 7 years discussing our life together. And the best way I can explain it is magnetic. There’s no way I could ever be away from him. Something in me pulls me to him (don’t be gross). He has said the same thing. It’s like two very strong magnets. 

I love him. That is undeniable. But I need him. He is like oxygen. I can’t live without it, and I couldn’t live without him. 

I never really felt like something was missing in my life, per say. But I can say this; the first time I kissed him, a part of me came alive. I knew right in that moment that he was my home. Funny thing is, I wasn’t looking for him. He was just supposed to be something fun, nothing serious. Never in a million years did I ever think that the boy from high school would be the missing piece of me. 

But he is. 

He is my other half. He is my home. He is my forever. Not just my love, he (to quote a really crappy movie)  completes me. He is my soul mate. One soul, two bodies. He is my person. My happy. My forever. My twin flame. 

Badass Bandaids.. 

I have written about this before, a few times. I think bandaids are fucking amazing. The little cartoon ones are pretty badass, and the designs on them nowadays are beyond fun. What is the point of a bandaid? To cover a wound and help you heal by keeping the shit out. Pretty straightforward, right? 

But, I think that some people can be bandaids, too. I have a handful of them in my life. You know who my strongest bandaid is? My husband. He came in to my life when I was a fucking pile of rubble on the floor, and slowly, together, we have put me back together. I’m different now – I put myself back together how I always should have been. And he has been the glue, tape and bandaids that’s held all the pieces together and kept the shit out. He’s fucking amazing and I don’t know what I would do without him. 

I also have some friends who are my like my doc mcstuffins bandaids. Sure, they were there through the demise and rebirth of me, but they weren’t the architects behind the restructure – they were the ones who kept me smiling and made sure my head stayed above water and screwed on straight. Plus, they’re fucking cute.. just like doc mcstuffins haha. They held my hand, lent me their shoulders, gave me their ears for hours upon hours, heard more of the nitty gritty than anyone should be privy to, and they’re still there, holding certain pieces together. Serious angels on earth and I wild be lost without them. 

I was just listening to this song, and something clicked (another topic that I frequently write about).

“I will be right by your side. 

If I can’t find the cure, 

I’ll fix you with my love

No matter what you know, 

I’ll fix you with my love

And if you say you’re okay

I’m gonna heal you anyway

Promise I’ll always be there

Promise I’ll be the cure”

Sounds like a cheesy love song, and maybe it is (Lady Gaga, by the way) but to me, it’s more than that. At its core, it’s about being there for someone and sticking by them for the long haul. And that’s what my bandaids are. I may not need them as much as I used to, for the reasons I used to, anyway… but where are they? Still stuck right to me. None of them could fix me, but they stood by me while I put the pieces back together, they helped where they could, and now, no matter where I go, they’re there. They helped me rebuild, and they’re written in all of what I am now. 

I’m not all better. I don’t think I ever will be. Once rocked that hard, I think it’s always natural to be forever shaky. But I’m doing ok. 

I have some more healing to do, but I know that I have them all behind me. And I think I’m ok with how far I still have to go. They know me and they love me, regardless of the cracks and bandaids and disheveled imperfect perfection. 

How does it go? I’m stuck on bandaids cuz bandaids stuck on me. And I’ll take these crazy ass people with me everywhere I go, with a big fucking smile on my face and a shit-ton of peace in my heart. 

Because of them. My badass bandaids. 

I am back, bitches!

I have taken some time to chill, organize my life, and see how things feel. And what I can say right now is… things feel great! We are happy in our new house – it fits us very well and everyone is loving our new space.

Don’t get me wrong, the move itself was a slice of flaming hell. We had help. We arranged ahead of time for people to come help with the heavy cumbersome shit. I pack the house and clean after it is emptied, so the husband moves the shit. Seems fair. Except this time, help didn’t come. Bunch of hosers just didn’t show up. So who did the brunt of the heavy lifting? That would be us. At one point, my head was pinned between the wall and the couch, and I was not pleased. I know there are other people we could have called, but I have a very good reason for not doing so, which is why I am not bitching too heavily about moving our shit ourselves. Am I selfless? Did I want to give people their time with their families? Did I want to avoid being an inconvenience? NO! I don’t want those people calling us to move their shit. HAHA! Totally selfish, hence only being slightly annoyed.

Moving on…. We are settled and everyone is enjoying their respective spots in school.

Biggest little is thriving in grade 8 and just starting another year of volleyball. He is so good at that game, it is crazy. And it doesn’t hurt that he is very close to being 6 feet tall. Loser. I make him sit down when I give him shit, now. Nobody will take a 5’3″ person seriously when they hover 5-6 inches above them. He is a giant. He has a big heart. But at times I still question every choice I have ever made with him, due to the moron-adolescent big-ass attitude. Just have to remember it happens to the best of us and hope tomorrow is better. But as I remind myself all the time – it could be worse! He truly is a great kid and watching him become this beanpole with a vision for his life is kind of flooring me!

Middle-little (also known as the diabetic) is kicking ass this year. November 9th will be his 1 year diaversary, and he has got such a good grasp of it, our last appointment was mostly just sitting around and bullshitting with his nurses.. they didn’t even want to see his food log. He has grown (physically and emotionally) with this disease and we are blown away every day with how well he has adapted. He is in grade 6 and doing amazeballs with school and with his stupid busted ass pancreas. But he is so much more than just a diabetic kid. He is so funny and silly, and is going to earn a living with his amazing drawing and attention to detail. Just you wait and see….

Little-little!! Aww, here is where the changes are undeniable. My baby started kindergarten this year. Not only is it weird that he isn’t home two days a week, but he comes home and talks about this life that we aren’t a part of, and that has never happened before. It is tearing my heart apart a bit, but he is doing really well, so that helps. He attended his first bday party without us today, which is another change. Sigh… My baby. Seriously freaked out by this new development!

My husband!! Seriously… gush gush gush. I love the ever loving shit out of that man! Him appearing in my life was random, and a total miracle. My heart was obliterated before him, and now it is put back together in the most perfect way. He did a course at work this week, and walked away with a 98% which is amazing for someone who despises school, tests, speaking in front of people, has adhd, etc. And now this man, this amazing human that I get to share my life with, is a certified heavy equipment operator, and is certified to train people to not only run the equipment, but to also train other people to train people. In summation, he is a heavy equipment badass, and I am stupid proud of him! Plus, he is total sex on a stick, so there’s that, too.

Me…. I don’t really have a lot to report (at the moment) but shit is changing. My horizon is beginning to look a lot more pink, and the dark clouds are way behind me now. I have a few tricks up my sleeve… lets just say, what is coming next will be revolutionary in my life.

Like I said…. I’m back, bitches. But the me that is back isn’t the me you knew from before… I put myself back together differently this time.

*mic drop*

By my side… 


Some stuff has been in my head lately – swirling, like a toilet in Australia (in other words, in a backwards direction which is nonsensical to me). 

Strength. It is a term that is used to describe many things. People use it to describe themselves – their tenacity and ability to handle all the toilet swirling shit that’s thrown at them. But what constitutes real strength? Strength to one may be considered weak to someone else. It is all determined by our own opinions, but that’s not to say that everyone doesn’t have a level of it, it just means that some people are perceived as stronger. 

And I’m not talking about weights. Well, not the tangible kind you lift to build muscles. Though, if we are going to get all deep and pensive, strength comes with dealing with our own weights. But I digress, I’m not going that way this time. 

I consider myself strong.. In a literal and emotional sense. I’ve gone through things that would shake and destroy bigger people than me. I stood, I dealt,  I walked away and lived to tell the tale. That’s not to say I didn’t feel like I was going to drown and die while I was in the midst of the thickest part of my hell, but, I did not! I dug my feet in, stuck my head down, and fought the tornado with a lot of ferocious attitude and an inordinate amount of stubbornness. 

No, I didn’t always think that everything was going to work out. I didn’t envision skittle shitting rainbows. I just dealt. And I did 99% of it on my own. I didn’t ask for help. I didn’t ask for shoulders to cry on. I wept a few times on my closest people, but otherwise, I left my situation close to my chest, and only let it out for air when I felt like I was choking to death. 

But now? I’ve dug myself out into a pretty charmed life. It may not seemed charmed to you, but compared to where I’ve been, where I am going is far superior. I don’t have hoards of money, or brand new everything, a padded savings account, or tons of friends – but what I do have is 100% mine, 100% real and no one can take it away.  

And, I am not alone anymore. My husband is my rock, my future, my heart and he protects me in a way I never knew was possible. He brought more into my life than I thought anyone could, and has given me more security and stability than I could have ever fathomed. 

Does that make me weak? Does leaning on someone else, when I used to lean only on myself, make me any less strong? Fuck no, it doesn’t. Depending on someone, leaning on someone, having someone give you help does not make you weak. It makes you smart. Standing alone opens you up for anything, but standing beside someone gives you a shield and security.  

It doesn’t make you weak to want someone. It doesn’t make you weak to need someone. It doesn’t make you weak to take and appreciate help. 

Having my husband beside me has made me even stronger. Because now, not only do I have my strength, but I have his as well. And when I feel too weak to fight, he steps in for me. And I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side. He makes me better, stronger – happier. 

Wanting someone to stand beside me doesn’t make me weak. It means I’ve stood alone for long enough. 

You and I..

I am currently sitting on my couch, screwing around on Apple Music, listening to all sorts of music I maybe wouldn’t have had I had to actually pay for it. Chances are good that if I had to pay $1.29 for it, it never would have made it onto my phone. But considering I am sitting in the first month of my 3 month free trial, I figured why not! Let my freak-music flag fly! So here we are, deafening bass and treble flowing through my blue beats, and cramming itself straight into my brain. Then it hits me – literally and figuratively. “I got all I need when I got you and I, cuz I look around me and see a sweet life.. stuck in the dark but you’re my flashlight, you’re getting me through the night” and shivers ran up and down my spine, and my husband flashed into my head. A breath caught in my throat and I had to blink back tears. Sure, it may be a cheeseball song from a cheeseball movie, but that line struck a chord with me (pardon the pun.. haha)

For anyone who doesn’t know me or my husbands story, let me just say, it has been a sorted one. It was love at first sight, but also nothing near love at first sight. After a miserable month of school in this catholic high school in grade 10, my mom transferred me to the high school I should have been at all along. A month and a half into the school year, I was, once again, considered the “new girl”. But all of my friends from junior high were there, so I wasn’t all alone. I did a few days in this school, and felt okay. Then one day, rain. My gym class ends up in the drama room, in the dark, siting on the floor, watching a mind-numbingly boring video about tennis. And all of a sudden, there was a head in my lap and a hand holding mine under my knee. I looked at the boy beside me and whispered “who is this?!” and he snickered and said “oh, that’s just Trevor”. And that, people, is how I met my husband. We sat through that entire video, and I can’t tell you a single thing that happened on it, but I can tell you that my heart was racing! I was only a few days at this new school, and I didn’t really know anyone in my gym class. When the video ended, he looked up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes that I now get to gaze into every single day, and he smiled and said “me and Jennie’s like peas and carrots” and then stood up, grabbed my hand, walked me to my locker, kissed me on the cheek and walked away. Other than a few pleasantries for the next 3 years, that was the only real contact I had with Trevor in high school. How much easier life could have been if I had just kept him from walking away that day. We talk about it all the time. Our “what if” moment. We had another “what if” moment at our safe grad 3 years later.. but he was drunk (as all kids are at their safe grads, plus, he was 18, so it was totally legal) and he doesn’t remember telling me he liked me, calling me cutie, saying how sad he was that we weren’t closer, or hugging me like he never wanted to let me go. Funny to look back at moments in your life where everything could have shifted, just if only……

There was zero contact between us over the next 12 years. We became facebook friends in 2007, when facebook was taking the world by storm, but still no contact. Trevor and I lived very different lives, but at the same time, they were scary similar. It’s like life knew better, and just continued grooming us to end up together. I was with someone, and he was with someone. We both had 2 sons, and deep down inside, without showing anyone, we were both miserable, but always had smiles on our faces. We endured a lot, most of which doesn’t require any airing or attention. Lets just say, it was a very sad and empty decade of years.

Then, one night, after he endured the hardest year of his life, closely followed by me doing the same, us separated by 4 hours and what felt like a million years, I made a facebook post expressing how deeply I missed my grandma. And a couple hours later, at midnight, my phone buzzed on my nightstand. I remember my mouth hanging open, and saying out loud in my empty room “Trevor J… where the hell did you come from!?” Of course, I am saying this to myself, cuz I am crazy like that. So, I typed out that very sentence, and thanked him for the nice message. And just like that, a friendship was born. We chatted a few times, nothing too exciting. Talked about our kids, our losses, our lives, etc. I grew to look forward to our talks, because he made me feel like there was a rainbow just over the horizon for me, and that eventually all of my dark clouds would go away. I was, at that point, a year into my divorce and was more lonely than I ever really let on, but he somehow saw through it and made me feel like it was all going to be okay.

There is a lot of stuff that happened in those few months, most of which I do not feel like it needs to be aired, either. All I can say is, we were friends. He helped me through my divorce, helped me smile again, and when the time came for him needing someone to lean on, I helped him see that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. We were friends. Period. I was closed off, jaded, angry, hurt and broken, and he made me feel hope. Then, when some time had passed, we decided to give this love thing a shot. Let me tell you this, two broken people with that much baggage trying to make a long distance relationship work? That, right there, is a recipe for broken fucking hearts. And that is exactly what happened to us. Fizzle fizzle, crack, and we were done before we ever even got going. And it broke me even more. We had a couple of months where we held eachother together with hopes and tears, but it wasn’t enough. Sometimes, love just isn’t enough. I called him my bandaid, but it just proved that when bandaids are soaked enough, they just don’t stick. And our bandaid was drenched in buckets of tears. It just let go.

Months passed after the most devastating breakup either of us had ever endured, and we all but stopped talking. I couldn’t bear the pain, and he, too, just blocks out pain. So we went from being friends, to best friends, to in love, to nothing, in a mere few months time. It would sound like it was no big deal to most, but that was one of the worst pains I had ever felt. It felt like I was losing oxygen and could not breathe. And deep down inside, as much as I told myself I hated him, I still felt like we were supposed to be together. Who breaks up, tears running down their face, and says “I love you more than anything, and I WILL marry you one day”? I’ll tell you who, my husband. We both just knew we were too broken to be a part of anything at that point, so we broke it off, at 2am laying on my hotel room bed, heads on our tear soaked pilows, and fell asleep holding eachother. Almost 6 years later, and it still hurts my chest.

One day, during our “off” phase, I was at my weekend job, and this song came on the radio. I remember listening to a bit of the words, and falling to the floor in a puddle of tears. “I wish Trevor thought this way about me” I thought…then picked myself up, swore I would stop thinking about him right then and there, and carried on with my life. Fast forward a few months, and I went to Calgary to spend the weekend with my best friend. I finally felt free of the pain, and like I was going to be okay, after all. We had a great weekend, and I felt happy for the first time in months. After leaving her house, I texted Trevor and told him I would be swinging by to “get my shit from you, cuz there’s no need for you to have it anymore” So we planned for me to stop and grab my book, blackberry and PVR. I had several people texting and calling me while I was there, to check up on me, and make sure I didn’t get sucked back in.

I got out of my truck, felt really good about myself (helped that my thyroid meds kicked in while we were apart and I lost 35 pounds.. haha) and grabbed my stuff, threw it in the truck (making sure to flash my tiny ass at him) and said goodbye and started to leave. But he wanted to talk… 2 hours later, we were still standing in that parking lot, talking. And before I knew it, he grabbed me and kissed me. It was all over after that. I tried to keep him at bay, I tried to keep my heart locked up… but he is supposed to be in there… he was always meant to be in my heart. Always. He texted me at work later that week and said “look up the lyrics to this song. Every time I hear it, I think of you and miss you” What song do you think it was? Yeah, the exact same one I thought “I wish Trevor thought this way about me” a few months earlier. When people are meant to be together, it always finds a way.

It wasn’t easy. It still sometimes hurts. I still have moments when I let this all in and I cry. But it is part of our story, as sorted as it may be. Had all of that not happened, we wouldn’t be where we are right now. That’s not to say I don’t wish we could have ended up together without all of the hurt and pain. I am so insanely jealous of people who do it right on their first try. I will never know what that feels like. I have an ex. He has an ex. And no matter what we do or where we go, they will always be in the background. I have kids from a previous marriage. He has kids from a previous relationship. I have a failed marriage. He has a failed long term relationship. I have trust issues. He has trust issues. We still fight fights with our exes, with eachother. There is still baggage at every single turn. And I wish on a daily basis that we had a do-over. But that just isn’t real, nor is it ever possible. This is our life. This is what we have built. We have a beautiful son together. He is an amazing dad to my older two boys. We have a sturdy as hell marriage that isn’t going anywhere.

Trevor is my person. He is my oxygen. I have a lot of issues from my past, but instead of wishing them away, he holds my hand and helps me see in the darkness. I would give anything to go back to grade 10, and never let his hand go… but that’s not my life. Nor is it his. We have overcome some insane stuff in our relationship. We have stood together and let life try to knock us down. But with him by my side, I have no doubt in my mind that I am in the middle of my forever, and nothing is ever going to rip us apart. He still gives me butterflies and tingles, I still get giddy when I hear my phone tell me that he texted me, I still miss him every single time he goes to work, we still text eachother any time we are apart, I still get nervous when he kisses me, I still crave his hugs….

I know if we had been together sooner, it would have been amazing and magical and everything that dreams are made of… but it also may not have worked. Because at our core, we are the same people, but we have both changed a lot over the last 2 decades. And in some ways, I think that Trevor and I had to break before we got together, so that we could help each other put ourselves back together the way we were always meant to be.

Ten things not to say to a “boy mom”

I have all boys. It is a lot, some days. But I still love it. My boys are my world, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Do I sometimes wish I had a girl to do girly shit with? To take for pedicures and all of that? Sure. Sometimes. Then I think about the bras and clothes and periods and hair and boys and hormones and hormones and crying and tantrums and crying and nails and all of the stuff that comes with girls (just generalizing here, don’t jump up my ass for pigeon holing females.. speaking as a female, I can say this generalization is generally bang on)

BUT!!!! Boys are not easy. It’s not all hot wheels and skittles. To be honest, it is pretty close! But they come with their own list of challenges and issues, they are tiring and exhausting and confusing, just like every kid is. It has it’s moments of being insanely low maintenance, but, there are a few things about having all boys that drive me absolutely bat-shit crazy… I mean, after all, I am a mom, I have a crew off hooligans learning their way in the world, and that could drive anyone to the brink of insanity.

Frequently, in my daily swim in a sea of testosterone, I am repeatedly asked the same questions over and over, and the same remarks are made in regards to the sex of my offspring.

Here are a list of my top 10, but trust me, there are many many more.

#10. All boys? why yes! you are quite astute.

#9. It must get loud! yes, as most children do at one time or another, it does get loud.

#8. Wow, there must be a lot of smells! well, considering my children bathe, and are not cavemen, it doesn’t smell any more than any other human being would. but thanks for the concern for our hygiene.

#7. Boys are so much easier than girls – lucky! really!? is that so? thanks for letting me know.

#6. I am so glad I don’t have boys please come and say this to me when your girls are in their teens and you’re up-stream in estrogen river, and I am happily swimming in my sea of testosterone.

#5. Your grocery bill must be insane! yes, it is quite absurd, as most people’s are these days, but at least I will never have the enormous beauty costs that moms of girls will have.

#4. Boys aren’t as affectionate as girls, my girls always snuggle and want to cuddle well, that is interesting to learn. I will be sure to contemplate this remark the next time I have all three of my boys sitting on or beside me, giving me a hundred hugs and kisses every night, and telling me they love me more times a day than I can count.

#3. Bet you wish you had a girl – all that pink and pretty stuff is fun! nope.

#2. Gonna try for a girl? FUCK NO. I am fixed. My husband is fixed. We are done done done.

#1. Guess you will just have to keep trying for a girl! listen to me very carefully, I have 3 boys. I adore my boys. My life is complete. I do not feel like I am missing anything. I do not feel like I was shorted in life. I do not feel like I am less whole without someone with pigtails and attitude sauntering through my house. I am sure people adore their girls. But you know what? I adore my boys. PERIOD.

 

Maybe people should just stick to their own business and stop trying to tell me what sex of human to have in my house. I am a single female in a house of males, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“baby” always applies…

I read this article the other night, and before I knew it, tears were involuntarily pouring and running down my cheeks. This lady was talking about her boys, and how they are no longer chubby cheeked toddlers, but these little mini-men who were pulling away into lives of their own, and my heart shattered.

I have three boys, spanning in age from 13-4. There is a big gap in there because the youngest is a product of my second marriage, and what I fondly call my “second chance at a happy ending”. My husband swooped in and saved me from myself, showed me that love is real, how it feels, and how swollen a heart can get when it is literally overflowing with love. I have ALWAYS adored my boys; for the longest time, they were the only source of my heart swelling feelings. Then I had a third little boy and got remarried, and now my heart is so full, it feels like it couldn’t possibly fill any more. But then I think about everything these boys are going to do and become, and I’m reminded of just how much more love I am going to encounter in my life.

My oldest is about to turn 13. A teenager. Really? How did that happen? I realize time has passed, I’m not that daft. But it feels like just a few months ago I was bringing this tiny little thing with a white-blonde mohawk home from the hospital. My first kid, at the absurdly young age of just 22. And there we were, learning it all together. He was a lot of firsts for me, the biggest being the first time I felt true, deep and real love. Until I held him in my arms, I just had no idea how real love felt. 

Then came my second bouncing baby, a mere 2 years and 3 months later. This one was a bit more of a struggle to get into the world. He’s been a stubborn little shit from the get-go. But again, I held him in my arms, and my heart pounded in a different way than it had even earlier that day. Having kids changes you. You don’t make room in your heart for them, your heart grows to accommodate all of the new love for these tiny little pieces of you. 

It was many years before my uterus housed another rib-cage orangutan. My oldest was 8 and middle was 6 when the final addition to our family came into the world. After my first two boys, and my husband and love of my life, I didn’t think my heart could grow bigger or pound harder than they made it, but I was wrong. My littlest guy was the final piece of our puzzle, and my heart finally felt complete. 

These little humans, these little pieces of me, they will always be my baby’s. From the moment they were a thought, until this very second, I have been around for every single moment of their lives. I know their looks, their tones, their noises, their laughs, their snores, their souls.. They are the best pieces of me and the biggest part of my heart.

Every time I refer to one of them as my “baby” I get a fresh serving of hell from certain people in my life. I’m not calling them a baby, nor am I being a clingy helicopter mom. But let’s face it, whether anyone approves or agrees, those three will always be my baby’s. When I look at them, I can still hear their baby noises in my head, remember my first scary moment with them, remember their first laughs, their favorite first foods, hear their tiny little cries, remember when they crawled, walked, ran, jumped, hurt themselves, said mommy.. Even typing it, my heart is pounding differently. 

People may get defensive and combative about mothers and their “special” bond with their children. That’s not to say that dads don’t feel things, too. But at the end of the day, my bond and attachment with my kids will always be a million times different than anyone else’s, because regardless of how much daddy’s love their baby’s, my kids heard my heart beat from the inside. Sure, they are half their fathers, but kids physically take, and keep, parts of their moms from when they were in the womb. I will always have a special attachment to my kids. And it will always be something that no one but me will understand or feel. 

Thinking about them growing up, not hugging me anymore, never being home, choosing their girlfriends over family time, going off to college, getting their own homes, having their own lives.. It makes me proud and excited, but it pulls at my heart – the heart that each of them helped build and expand – and it turns on my eyeball faucets. I’m so excited for their futures, because I know I’ve raised them to be the best versions of themselves.. But for now, for the time I have left, I’m going to kiss their foreheads while they sleep, rub their heads while they have breakfast in their pajamas, let them hug me a million times a day, smile when they call me mommy (mom is not far off), watch cartoons with them on Saturdays, laugh at their really silly jokes, listen to their stories, and look into their sweet innocent eyes – the same eyes I looked into when they were only minutes old. 

They’re my baby’s. They always will be. And even when they’re too old to call me mommy, that’s who I’m always going to be. 

Sore, but not dead.. keep going!

So, on January 4th I went way out of my comfort zone. I weighed myself in front of someone else! Absurd, right? I frigging agree! But the local sporting goods store does this bad-ass contest every New Year… people go weigh in, their weight is marked down in the computer, and in 8 weeks, go weigh again! And for every pound you’ve lost, they issue you a $3 gift card for their store! For anyone without thyroid issues, this could pay big! Or men… pffft… it is just so unfair how quick dudes can dump weight! But as previously discussed, women get to sit to pee, so there has to be balance in the battle of the sexes somewhere. I sit to pee, and they can lose 5 pounds in one day without trying. Yup, totally fair. Anyway, I am getting off topic (slightly)

So I begrudgingly dragged my tubby butt into the store, and then proceeded to ramble the lady’s ear off as I was stepping on to the scale, explaining why I was as big as I was… like she cares, right? Yeah, probably not. But I still felt it necessary! Some days I want to wear a sandwich board explaining my weight situation, because the judging looks can get really hurtful and annoying. But anyway, I weighed myself, for the first time in many months, in front of a total stranger. And as a recap, the many months also included when my son was diagnosed with diabetes, the subsequent hospital stay, and my prolonged IDGAF attitude towards eating, snacking and gluten. Gluten, for anyone who isn’t aware, is a big no-no for people with my autoimmune disease, but at that point, I was focused on my sons newly diagnosed autoimmune disease (which gluten doesn’t affect, for anyone keeping track)

When I stepped on to that scale (it was on carpet, which I didn’t think was smart for weighing, but whatever…) I was pleasantly surprised. It was nowhere near where I thought it would be! It was much lower – still a grotesquely revolting number, but lower, nonetheless.

I re-started the 21 Day Fix on January 4th. I love that program. When it first came out in 2014, I did it religiously and lost 10 pounds in a month and a half. Then my doctor fucked around with my meds, and I gained upwards of 35 pounds, and haven’t lost it yet (thanks Doc!) But it is a great program. Most people don’t really realize how much their portions are just waaaaay wrong. It super helped. And I found the workouts to be really fun! I had to modify lots to begin with, but got better and stronger. Then I had to quit, at to the request of the aforementioned doctor. But I happily threw my dvds in and started all gung-ho. But I quickly became insanely bored (hello, doing this for almost 2 years.. it is bound to get boring as hell) So I popped in my 21 Day Fix Extreme and…. HOLY SHITBALLS! There is nothing easy about this program! The very first workout, I wanted to die. Plyo with weights? Screw you! Cardio with weights? Screw you more! Everything with weights? Kill me now. I am so sore. So so sore.

SO SORE! But you know what? I am not dead. And, I have lost almost 6 pounds now. Sure, in the span of a month, that is not super awesome. But, I am not eating super good (too little, if anything.. for real, I hate food) and I am still modifying a lot (I have the knees of a 70 year old man) But every morning, I get up, make my Amino Energy, pop in my dvd, pull out my weights, and sweat my balls off (I have sweat a lot, so I no longer have balls.. hahaha)

At the very least, I imagine I will get about $15.00 in gift cards. My husband weighed in, too. So I am sure he will let me use his gift cards, too. I am hoping to get enough to get a new sports bra. Ooooh, dreaming big!!