thoughts on life, parenting, news, and crazy shit

Month: April, 2014

Happy Husband Birthday!

Don't worry...he'll get it.

Don’t worry…he’ll get it.

Today is Husbands birthday. So of course  Buddy has delighted me by waking up early and ruining my blog plans.

He really is a great partner, you know.  I give him a hard time a lot, because I’m super affectionate and loving like that, but he’s the best.

How many men would endure not one but TWO paternal leaves from work and not end up being dead?  That shit is just not in a man’s blood you know.  Needless to say, we have all survived one another, despite the exhaustion and some bickering and about 5 million dirty diapers.  Does the local landfill give frequent dumper points?  Cause we’d be taking one HELL of a vacation.

Anyway.  He’s tolerated a lot of crazy hormonal outbursts from me over the last year.  He always does the things I ask for help with, and he hasn’t left me yet.

He does all the yucky manly jobs and never expects me to pitch in.  He eats what I cook and never complains, even if it’s not that great.  He encourages me to do things for myself, never bitches at me over the credit card bill and compliments me on my new dress instead.

Ultimately, we don’t live out some fairy tale lifestyle.  We work hard for the things we have and are able to treat ourselves often enough.  We’ve created this little family together and try to enjoy those small moments.  Like having a rum once the babes are finally sleeping.

It’s the little things, like our Sunday dinners and shows with Bestie that keep us going.

And ultimately, I love him.  I love the grey hairs to come and the hip replacements and the walkers and the nursing home we’ll eventually live in together.

Because we’ll be that couple.  The 90 somethings sitting on the front steps, drink in hand, laughing about something or other.

And it will be enough.  Because he always has been.

Happy Birthday.  Love you more than you probably know.

Bestie the Bestest

Every once in a while, you come across a person who is your perfect match.  I’m not talking about romantically or sexually.  I’m talking about having a “person” in your life.  Sorta like Meredith and Christina, for all you Grey’s Anatomy folks out there.  Or more like Pam and Tara.  I’m pretty bitchy.

I’m super blessed to have a few people in my life that I feel this way about.  I have many good, dependable, funny, beautiful friends in my life that make me feel happy and safe and loved.  We have a lot of things in common that brought us together and meaningful friendships developed soon after.

And then there’s Bestie.  My Person.

And she stands out for a lot of reasons.  Because she’s honest.  Because she’s smart. And talented. And funny. And we like the same books. And she loves my children.  And I trust her to always do the right thing.

But partly, because on paper, it seems like we would be unlikely friends.

We are kinda opposite in a lot of things.  We disagree.  We fight about political issues, sometimes just for the sake of arguing.

She’s this crazy left wing almost communist artist, and I am an unusually right wing almost monarchist musician.  We fight a lot about poor people.  And Aboriginal issues.  ( or do I say natives or indigenous?)  Bestie?

But that’s kind of what makes us great friends.  She challenges me to think from a different perspective. She shares lot of cool things with me that always at least make me consider the alternatives.  She causes my opinion to sway a little sometimes.  She forces me to learn new things all the time.

It all boils down to this:  If there really was a zombie apocalypse, would I choose her to be on my team?  Abso-fucking-lutely.  And not only because she knows all this rad stuff about wilderness survival and what plants won’t kill me if I eat them.  Because I trust her to always have my back.  Because she does.  All the fucking time.

I hope I’d be as useful to her.  I’m not sure the zombies will care how much I verbally assault them when the end comes.  I guess I’d better get good at swinging a sword or something.

Anyway.  A shout out to Bestie today.  Cause she’s the bestest.

People Suck: Monday Edition

So I read this article the other day.

It describes a lawsuit in which a woman, who hit and killed a teenage boy riding his bike, is now suing the family of the boy she killed.  She stated emotional trauma and post traumatic stress disorder blah blah blah blah.

I guess you can imagine which side of the argument I’m standing on.

Where the hell does this crazy bitch get off?

Yes.  You are suffering PTSD. NO shit, Sherlock.  You killed someone elses child in a horrible and tragic accident.  The guilt and trauma of that day will haunt you forever.

Part of the justification for this ridiculous piece of bullshit litigation is that she “is also a victim”.


So does that give her the right to further victimize this boys parents by suing them for a million dollars?  Tell me…..will that make her feel better about herself? The investigators concluded that there was nothing she could have done to avoid the accident.  Nothing. 

So my theory is that if she’s gonna feel guilt and trauma over something that was tragic and awful at least now she has a real reason to feel guilty.  Because now she is doing something selfish and cruel.

To me, guilt is not a valid response or feeling unless your actions have intent behind them.  Feeling guilt over things we cannot control is misplaced, but you should feel guilt over something you do to intentionally harm or hurt another person.

I get that she will never get over this.  But you know what, Lady?  You’re not the one who lost a child.

I don’t know if she has children of her own or not.  But I can tell her this:  Loving a child that you have birthed is love and devotion like no other thing on this Earth.  And the pain of having that child taken from you I can only imagine is the cruelest torture  someone could ever endure.

So I’m sure that the mother of the child that died is grateful of the reminder of her pain that you are giving her.  Because I’m sure it doesn’t haunt her every second of every day.

And yes.  I’m sorry that you too carry pain.  But let me go ahead and speak on this boy’s mother’s behalf when I say this:

You suck. You are a horrible person.  Not because of the accident that happened, but because of the choices you are making after.  You are cruel and selfish and mean.  You think you know pain?  Spend one second in the lives of these parents.  And then go fuck yourself.

Hot On The Titties: Measles Edition


The measles.  One of my favourite topics.  My thang.

The topic that makes me want to beat people who don’t vaccinate my head against a wall.

And WARNING:  This is a HOTTF rant.  Nothing scientific lies here.  I will not be convincing anyone to vaccinate based on facts or figures.  I’m just fucking ANGRY.

I know.  I know we’ve been around this block many times.  But people are obviously not getting the message.  Measles outbreaks  are everywhere.  And now, there’s even been an outbreak here.  In Manitoba.  In a climate so cold you’d think after our “coldest winter since the dawn of time” that we could freeze the balls off of the measles.

Sadly no.  It found us here too.

And it makes me angry.  It makes me afraid. I have small children.  One is an infant whose immune system is not mature enough to handle all of his vaccinations yet. And the poor decisions of people in this First World Fucking Country are putting MY child at risk.

I bet you are the same parents who insist that I can’t bring peanut butter sandwiches to playgroup.

But that’s ok.  You keep serving up your measles-whooping cough cocktail and we’ll keep drinking it.  Because you know, it stays live in the air we’re breathing for two fucking hours after you’ve left.

And I’m sorry to be so fucking obtuse, because obviously the risk of your child going into anaphylactic shock is more horrifying than the risk of my child suffering encephalopathy of their brain, or death.  And I’m sure I’m gonna hear about how ignorant I am about child allergies and they’re so severe and how could I be so stupid.

Well guess what?  That’s what I feel like when people don’t take the risk of my child getting ill (which is bad enough) or dying or being permanently disabled seriously.  Because you think you know better.

Can’t wait for smallpox to make it’s return either.  That should be a gooder.  All in the name of not putting anything foreign into our bodies.

Guess how many foreign substances you’ll be putting into your child’s body if your child suffers complications from the measles?  Or you know, needs a ventilator because the tetanus they received from that cut in the backyard has paralyzed their breathing muscles?

Not everything in the world is a giant conspiracy theory.  I am so sick of hearing how vaccines don’t work and look up this article on the CDC and take this out of context and Jenny McCarthy and whatever. It’s bullshit.

Vaccines work.  Your theories don’t.  So go fuck yourself.

How’s that for a closing argument?


I feel a little better.  Your turn.


V is for Vagina.


All right, Bitches.  Are you ready for this?  This may be a return to Hot On The Titties, even though it’s Thursday.  Saddle up.

I think feminism is bullshit.  Most specifically, our perception of ourselves and our power is all fucked up.  We don’t need affirmative action and all that shit.  We just need to unite as women and accept ourselves as we are.

You know why?  Because the main thing that holds women back is other women.  Men can be easily controlled by a vagina.  They can be controlled by the thought that they might get to see your vagina.  Or touch it or….well, you get the point.

You don’t have to actually sell yourself out.  You just have to let them think that you might, and bingo-bango.  You’re in charge.

Anybody out there watching Game of Thrones?  Of course you are.  And anybody watching Game of Thrones knows that even though the men wear the crowns ( except for Daenerys) their scepters might as well be shaped like a giant set of labia on a stick.  Because it’s the women that do all the manipulating and scheming and are actually in charge of this shit.  They hold the power between their legs.
Do you ever wonder why men rape women?  I highly doubt it has anything to do with sex.  It has everything to do with power. It robs someone of their power, and that’s what makes it so horrible.

Anyway, I was just thinking about how anytime I’ve ever had a conflict in the workplace, it has involved another woman.  And when it hasn’t, I can usually get a man to come around simply by the fact that I am the proud owner of a magnificent set of boobs.

Does that make me an asshole?

Probably. But I kinda don’t care.  Because I can get my own way most of the time just by using all my available resources.  I mean come on.  Look at all the female superheroes.  They are all super oversexed.  Because the key to their power is in their sexuality.

The funny thing is, I am actually a highly educated, reasonable person.  I work hard and am good at what I do.  I just have no shame in using the power of being a woman to my fullest advantage.  Do the other things things fall by the wayside?  Of course not.

I’m just saying:  “Ladies.  Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face.”    Don’t look down on another girl because she’s pretty AND smart and is able to use both qualities to her advantage.

I don’t think any of this is anything new.  I think women have been the powerful sex since the beginning of time.  Men may be physically more powerful, but we hold the puppet strings. And we’ve done so by wielding our secret weapon.

Can I get V?

We’re Not In Rio Anymore


You know how little kids become obsessed with things?  And the next thing you know, it’s all over their walls, and all their t-shirts sport pictures of it?

Well, the Destroyer has a minor toddler obsession with the movie Rio.  She’s also got some crazy thing for birds in general, but if there is a hearthrob that makes this little girl’s heart go thumpety-thump, I’m guessing it’s Blu from the movie Rio.

It could always be worse.  She could love Justin Bieber or New Direction, right?

Anyway, last night I took her out for dinner at some Thai restaurant with the girls.  She LOVES restaurants so I didn’t think this was going to be any sort of problem.  That’s the things with kids though.  As soon as you let your guard down…

So we’re driving to dinner and some song from Rio 2 comes on the radio, and I look back at my Twee Destroyer to see the happiest little girl ever.  We turn up the volume and smile all the way to dinner.

Then we pull into the parking lot and she looks up and realizes that we aren’t going to see her movie again after all.  I guess that song on the radio was some sort of divine direction about how the night was supposed to unfold, and I missed God’s cue.  So, yeah.  Enter temper tantrum # 1.

So we finally get her calmed down by giving her some bullshit video of people playing with play doh to watch on You Tube.  Don’t ask.   I don’t what she likes about it.  But as long as she was no longer screaming about fucking Rio and how I wronged her she could have been watching porn for all I cared.

I order her some fancy slushy drink that she putts her all into drinking.  Good.  She’s busy.  I can go back to complaining about the other child I have who doesn’t sleep ever.

Then dinner comes.  She’s not a picky eater, so I put some pad thai in front of her.  And she immediately goes for some questionable looking shaved stuff on the side of the plate and puts it in her mouth.

Then she turns to me and gets that look in her eye.

And proceeds to puke up pink fancy slushy drink into my hands.


Luckily for me, my friends are no dummies.  Napkins come flying my way and then finally an empty plate under my hands comes along so I can stop holding the puke.

You know you’re in it for life when your hands go towards the vomit to catch it and minimize damage to the furniture, rather than running from it in horror.

And to all you fuckers who think you’re a hero for holding your drunk friend’s hair when they’re puking, go fuck yourself.  You know nothing, Jon Snow.  Just wait until you have kids who throw up for the sake of being an asshole and you have to catch it in your hands to save the brand new carpet.

Or your ego in public. Or not.

And that, Bitches, was Tuesday with the Destroyer.


Easter Babies



Oh Bitches.

It’s been quite a bit of time, hasn’t it?  I’ve missed this world, and am hoping to be returning on a regular basis.

My Buddy and Destroyer have been keeping me busy.  In all honestly, my Buddy has also been keeping me awake, which a big part of the reason I haven’t been around.  I hate to lay blame, but if the shoe fits……

On this Easter Monday, as we all pat our overfull bellies and try not to eat all the goodies left by that goddamn Bunny, I had this thought.

We tend to make holidays about family and celebration and food.  But I think, especially at Easter, we should remember it’s about love.

As commercial as this holidays has become ( like any other, for that matter), at its core it’s about love.  Jesus suffered, died, and rose for us because he was innocent and loved us unconditionally.  And we  humans are conduits of that love.

I know this because I have small children.  And they are living proof that selfless, all encompassing love truly does exist.  I know this because even when I am feeling psycho, and yelling, or am totally exhausted, I am loved by my tiny humans.  They love me more than I will ever be loved by anything else ever  in the rest of my existence.  Unconditionally.  Innocently.  Irrevocably.

So to anyone who has ever questioned how we all survive those hard moments of parenthood, and why we would ever go through it more than once, it’s because of this.  This feeling of being absolutely loved in return no matter how bad we fuck up.

Children are divine, I guess.  Even under all the yuck and crazy and ridiculous.


Happy Easter


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