thoughts on life, parenting, news, and crazy shit

Month: December, 2013

It Could Always Be Worse

There’s this thing that we parents say to try and make ourselves feel better.  Because being a parent to two babies and three dogs is a lot of work some days.  Ok, most days.

Ok.  All the fucking time.

And not only is it a lot of work, it’s shitty work.  Literally and figuratively.  My life, on an average day, revolves a good 50% around the bowel movements of other living beings in the house.  Even my own desire to take a shit has to go on the back buner, because a baby always seems to have dibs on that, doesn’t it?

So, what we say to ourselves is this:

“It could always be worse.”

That is the singsong of comfort that we mothers whisper to ourselves as one child is throwing up and the dog is eating it and some asshole is banging on your door when you have clearly indicated that you do not want ANY of what they are selling EVER.

“It could always be worse.  At least I don’t have to wash the floor, because the dog cleaned up the mess.”

It’s the reassurance we give ourselves when the baby wakes up at waytoearly o’clock and you come downstairs to fetch a bottle and instead find a steaming pile of dogshit at the bottom of the stairs.

“It could always be worse.  I could have fucking stepped in it.”

It’s what we do when the toddler grabs her brother’s penis because she doesn’t have one and still doesn’t understand the differences between boys and girls.

“It could always be worse.  They could remember this one day.  Good thing children have no memories before what, 5?”

The trick, however, is not to say “it could always be worse”  in front of your demonic little spawns of love.  Because if they hear you, they think it’s a challenge.  They think that you are daring them to make it worse.  Like they don’t want to be the only ones who cry in the house.

They already know how to keep you up all night if they hear the words “I’m tired”.  They will keep themselves up to the point of their own misery just to fuck with you.  Why?  Because it’s the only power they have.

You are in charge of all the things in their life, and they want a piece of it back.  So the only way for them to really get you by the balls is to come up with a mystery ailment in the middle of the night and watch you do the dance of “How the fuck can I make this kid happy and get it back to bed?”

And then you whisper to yourself:

“It could always be worse.  We could be out of rum.”

And that is when you know you’ve hit rock bottom.  There is puke on the floor, you almost stepped in dogshit, there is an imposter salesman at your door, the toddler is freaking out because she doesn’t have a penis, it’s 4 am and you haven’t slept yet and now you’re out of rum.

So the moral of the story?

Keep the bar stocked.

365 days

The alarm clock goes off, and she walks down the stairs, past the two closed bedroom doors where her children sleep, and starts a pot of coffee.  It’s a day like any other day; except today, she remembers for the 365th time, that only one of her children are sleeping behind those closed bedroom doors.

And for the 365th day in a row, her heart feels like it is being ripped from her chest and her breath can hardly come out. She wishes and prays that it was all a nightmare that she can shake off.  She’ll go upstairs and wake both her children up for breakfast and let them argue over which cartoons to watch.

And for the 365th day in a row, she wishes she could go back in time and relive that last morning with her lost child.  A morning that started out just like this, like any other day, except it would end in a life shattering moment of violence and evil and pain.  And she wonders what if my child had been sick and home from school that day?  What if I had made that dentist appointment instead of putting it off?  What if what if what if?

We grieved worldwide with the families of Newtown on this day last year.  We wished and hoped and prayed it wasn’t true.  And today, 365 days later, we are reminded to love our children harder.  To hold them tighter.  To be thankful it wasn’t our child, and wonder how it could happen to anyone’s child.

My heart still grieves for these parents. Their grieving will never be complete.  Parents are not supposed to bury their children.

And in their bravery, these parents have asked us to honor their children by being kind to one another.

Kindness is the only cure for any of this.  For all the hate and fear in the world.  Your kindness may save someone elses child.  It may save your own.

Heavy heart today, friends.  Heavy heart.

Crap News Potpourri

With my hands perpetually full, its hard to write these days.  But I’ve had a few things on my mind, thanks to the news:

Let’s play a game.  See if you can anticipate my thoughts on the following recent news subjects:

1.  A new candy found in a candy store in Gimli, Manitoba:  It’s called “Gay-Away”  and it mocks exactly what you think it does.  Some fucking retard has marketed a pretend pill to cure gayness.


2. Rob Ford.  Are we still talking about this asshole?  He’s a loser, but you fucking elected him, Toronto.  Crack lovers.

3.Kevin Federline is having a sixth child.  With who, you say?  I have no idea.  I’m actually surprised that there is so little going on in the world that this was on msn at all.

4.  The sign language interpreter was a fake.  I mean come on.  Can you say “inside job?”.

5.  Kanye West is snubbed by the Grammy’s.  Yeah, dude.  It’s obviously a race thing.

6. We’ve had a continent wide snowstorm for like a week now.  it’s -30C here in Manitoba.  Global warming is an elusive bitch.

7. Canada Post doesn’t want to deliver mail to our doors anymore.  Can you spell UPS?

8. Australia allows gay marriage.  Oh, wait 5 days…..just kidding.

9. Jenny McCarthy was a mistake to hire on “The View”.  What’s that?  Nobody else wants to hear a fear-mongering- anti-vaccine-ex-Playmate talk politics either?

So seeing as I am too knackered these days to engage a full on rant, I invite and encourage you all to do it for me.  Pick a topic from 1-9 and go for broke.  Tomorrow is Hot on the Titties Friday, after all.



BE That.



I’m sure there are going to be a zillion posts about Nelson Mandela today.  There should be.  He was an inspiration and a figure of change and peace and love.  His death is most certainly felt amongst a great number of people in the world, but his message still rings true and rings loud:

“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion.  People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”

And so it really falls on us.  On those of us who are parents.

Remember when I once talked about how there is nothing scarier than a pack of Mommies  with a cause and a conviction?  It’s because not only are we passionate about protecting our children, but we are passionate about them growing up to be important.  And growing up to be good. And kind.  And smart.  And all of things that can cause human beings to treat one another better.

Remember what Ghandi said?  “Be the change you wish to see in the world”

As usual Destroyer puts everything in perspective for me.  When she wants me to do something, she says,”Mommy be.  Mommy BE that.”

And the other day I realized something.  Everything she learns, she learns from me.  From Daddy.  From Grandma.  From all the significant teachers in her life.  She doesn’t separate our actions from our intentions or personalities or our hearts.  She sees what we do, and assumes that’s what we are.

Once again, actions speak much louder than words, no matter how wise they are.

So, powerful mommies of the world.  Listen to these wise men, and my wise child.  Use your power to teach your children to love by being full of love in all your actions.

“Mommy be that.”

I’ll try, baby.  I’ll try.

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