thoughts on life, parenting, news, and crazy shit

Month: June, 2014

Cracking The Dress Code

There has been so many articles floating around lately about school dress codes.  Children and teenagers are getting sent home for violating it. 

And now of course, there has to be a huge thing about the topic in the news.  Like, every day.

Some of the concerns are that we are teaching boys that sexualizing girls is the girls’ fault.  That girls and the LBGT community are being singled out. That we are violating the rights of these children to express themselves.

You want to know what I think about all of this, Bitches?  OF course you do, or you wouldn’t be here, right?

I call bullshit to all of this.

All of it.

I am a firm believer in school uniforms.  And here’s why:

1. If everyone is required to wear the same thing to school, everyone is on the same level of the playing field.  Kids won’t be ostracized because their clothes aren’t the right brand. Or the right style.  Or because their parents can’t afford to buy the exact thing that everyone is wearing now. It takes away one more opportunity for kids to have a reason to hurt each other.

2. Does anybody notice how much time we’re spending talking about bra straps and short shorts and all of this other crap?  Parents are so pissed off that their child gets sent home for violating the dress code and misses out on their education for the day.  Did you ever stop and realize how much fucking time teachers are wasting in the classroom policing this shit?  Deciding if a student’s attire is reasonable or not?  A child is in school 6 hours a day.  Between all the breaks and bullshit, classroom management probably eats up half the school day as it is.  It’s exhausting for teachers.  And now, instead of finding way to better our children’s education, we are creating yet another distraction from it. What a load of crap.

3. In the real world, workplaces have uniforms.  They have dress codes.  You either comply or you don’t work there.  This is a lesson that can be taught early.  And I’m sorry that it’s hot outside, but it’s gonna be hot outside when you’re a lawyer and expected to dress respectfully and appropriately in the office.  There is something to be said about teaching our children to respect their environment and the rules as well.  Because that’s one thing we are not teaching them through all of this.  Respect for their environment, rules, themselves and others.  I’m sorry , I don’t care how hot it is outside, my daughter is not going to school in shorts that let her ass hang out and a tank top that covers a third of her breasts.  It’s not age appropriate, it’s not becoming, and it’s not respectful to her environment.

4.  The reason girls and LGBT are getting singled out for violating the dress code is because they are.  Unfortunately the options for clothing for girls is much wider that it is in the boys section.  Standard options for boys tends to be jeans and a t-shirt, so unless the t-shirt says something offensive, it’s harder to be dressed inappropriately for school.

I just think that the issue is getting far more out of control than necessary.  Rules are in place for a reason.  At the end of the day, when my kids go to school, I want the teacher to be focused on teaching math, rather than deciding whether or not Sally Sue is showing too much fucking skin.

And, in my opinion, this is not a debate about whether a girl is asking for it because of the way she’s dressed.  A girl can wear whatever she wants on her own time.  Show all the bra straps you want.  Don’t wear a bra.  I don’t care.  If men feel lustful towards her, that is indeed on them, not on her.  Because they are thinking that way whether her bra is showing or not.

But teach your kids that you have to respect the rules of the house you are in, whether you like them or not.  Because that’s how it is when you’re a grown up.


How Many Lobsters Can You Fit Down YOUR Pants?



If you’re looking for some delightful bullshit this morning, Bitches, look no further.

This fucking woman stuffed 7 lobster tails down her pants and tried to walk out of the supermarket.  She was going to trade them for a trip to a Chinese food buffet.

Do you know how much the lobsters were worth?  83.99$.  Sweet Jesus girl, are you stupid or just really bad at math?

First of all, I don’t know what kind of Chinese buffets you Americans are putting on in Florida, but I can get a decent on here for about 12.99$.  And for 20 bucks, I can get a Chinese buffet wet dream.

For 83.99$?  It better be full of Tiger Balls and extremely delicious fortune cookies that not only promise I’ll be rich, but deliver some gold coins or some shit.

Second of all, if you weren’t walking around with 84 dollars worth of fish down your pants, you might be able to get someone to buy you dinner just because you’re a girl.  I guess it could be worse, it could have been 84 dollars worth of tuna.  Right?

Thirdly.  Do you even know how to steal?  I can think of half a dozen better ways to steal some shit from a grocery store that doesn’t include filling my pants with seafood.  There has to be a better way.  Don’t you own a purse?  Those giant ones are super “in” by the way.

And lastly, how is this on the first fucking page of msn news this morning?  Slow day?  Not enough bombings in the Middle East or sports coverage?  Come on.  The World Cup is is Rio.  There must be some sort of crazy shit happening down there.  Crazy soccer fans in one of the biggest party cities in the world and we need to read about lobsters in the pants.


Tricyle Riding Fail

I had this super awesome topic that Bestie sent me last week in anticipation of a super rant-y post about it.

But it’s going to have to wait.

Last week I had laryngitis, this week I have an actual cold, and I feel as though my thought processes are delayed and I have regressed intellectually to a point where words with more than four letters would be too much of a challenge due to the subject matter.

So instead, I’m going to write about bike riding today.

What?  You think I’m the one riding a bike?  Hells no.  I would fall off.  I am a terrible bike rider.  Terrible.

Which stands to reason that I decided to try and teach a Destroyer that had spent most of the day in a “NO Way” and “I wanna do it myself” tantrum to ride and peddle a tricycle.

Seriously, Bitches.  You know where this is going.

Problem # 1:  She doesn’t understand that her feet need to remain on the peddles.

Problem # 2: She doesn’t understand that the feet move in an alternating fashion.  She doesn’t understand what alternating means.

Problem # 3:  She wants to do it “ALL BY MYSELF. NO!  YOU PUSH.  NO! STOP PUSHING ME.  NO YOU!”

Problem #4:  Spankings aren’t allowed in the middle of the street. Or on bike rides.

Problem # 5:  I didn’t  bring any alcohol.

Problem #6:  I can’t ride a bike and therefore have no real advice.

Oh, eventually we got her going after a good 20 minutes of tears and one, maybe two swear words from me.

“Look Mommy!  I’m doing it!”  ( as I push her tricycled ass around the block for the 7th time).

Doing what? Giving me grey hairs, babe?  You sure are.

Am I doing it wrong, Bitches?  Advice?



I’m not entirely sure I bother to read the news, or any news articles as they pop up in my news feed on Facebook anymore.

Because all the things are bullshit, Bitches.  All of them.

Every single thing I read out there is so totally aimed at striking some sort of emotional nerve just to suck you in, and then BAM.  Bullshit, nonsense article.

And then I go and read something like this piece of crap.

Some asshole has decided that school children should carry some kevlar blanket or some sort of shit around on their backs in order to protect themselves from school shootings.  It’s called “The Bodyguard Blanket.”

It’s apparently designed like what the American military uses to protect themselves in war zones.

Come on.

A.  I’m pretty sure that if a gunman wants to lift up those blankets and shoot you anyway, he will.

B.  Do they carry it around on their backs all day?  Or do they have to get a hall pass to go get it out of their locker in the event someone comes in and starts shooting the school up?

C.  So now we want our children to live in a culture of fear?

D. I can think of a whole shitload of alternative solutions that are less stupid, though probably still ridiculous, and more likely to protect your children.



1. Make firearm training part of a teachers education.  Every teacher carries a gun on their hip and is allowed and expected to take down an intruder that poses a threat to themselves or their students.

2. Build a bulletproof room under in the back of each classroom.  Make it out of bulletproof glass so that the students can flip the bird to the attacker and also know when it is safe to come out.

3. Metal detectors at all doors and windows.  No metal objects of any kind allowed on campus ever.  Plastic cutlery and no jewelery allowed.  Otherwise known as prison.

4. Figure out what we are doing to consistently fuck up our kids and not let them think that the way to deal with your frustrations or emotional problems is by shooting people.

5. Have trained attack dogs stationed at all schools. Train them to take down any one who looks like an asshole.

6. Close all schools.  Homeschooling for everyone.

7. Stop reporting these stories in a sensationalized way.  Stop creating a culture where this sees normal.

8. Issue kevlar vests, helmets and camouflage pants as school uniforms.

I’m not trying to make light of these horrible tragedies that seem to be more and more common.  But bulletproof blankets?  I just don’t see how this is going to solve the problem.

It makes me very sad to think that children out there think the answer to their problems is to  hurt other children.  It makes me sad that this is even a topic of conversation.  That keeping your child safe at school doesn’t mean sending a properly fitted bike helmet or teaching them stranger danger anymore.

If I truly had the answers, I wouldn’t be writing such an asshole, tongue in cheek  article about this.

But surely there is a better way than this.



Hot On The Titties: Judgement Day


I try so hard not to judge other parents, Bitches.  I try.  Lord knows I screw things up all the time and have to learn to do better the next day.

But here’s the thing.

The other day, the day after the super irritating doctor’s office mommy incident, we all went to the park.  And there was a new source of “what the hell?” for me to ponder.

This woman was caring for four children  Two were hers, two were not.  The difference in the way she spoke to her own children versus the children whom she was caring for made my jaw drop.  To sum things up quickly, there was nothing but praise for her sons as they roamed around the playground, and nothing but total assholery in the way she interacted with the littlest of the little girls.

This little girl was afraid of bugs, you see.

And sure.  A child’s irrational fear can be difficult.  Frustrating even.  But you know what I found frustrating?

Watching an adult loudly and repeatedly shame, threaten, yell at, and berate a 2 year old child in front of her siblings, friends and strangers for 45 minutes because her fear was inconveniencing this obviously overwhelmed mommy.

Making sure to tell everybody how they were going to have to leave the park and it was all her fault.

Making sure to let her know if she didn’t instantly forget she was afraid of bugs that she would certainly not get to do X,Y and fucking Z that afternoon.

Making sure everyone know how stupid she was because there were obviously no bugs at the park.

So yeah.  I get it.  Sometimes 2 year olds are fucking ridiculous.  Mine is ridiculous at least 10 times every day.  And sometimes I lose my cool.  More than I’m proud to admit.

But I keep thinking, when we’re out in public, we are usually on our best behavior, because we know other people are watching.  We try to control ourselves a little better.  And certainly, we are likely to be more careful with how we talk to someone elses child.


So I keep thinking, if that’s was her best behavior, what the hell goes on when no one is listening?

And then I thought.  Thank goodness I saw this.  Because if it broke my heart enough to watch a little girl I don’t know be talked to that way, I sure as fuck am going to be even more careful about the way I talk to my Destroyer in those ridiculous moments.

Because making a child that obviously already feels vulnerable fell ashamed just makes it worse, no?

So yeah.  I guess I should really thank this woman.  She made me a better parent.

And I’m sure I do a lot of things that make other people shake their heads.  I know I shouldn’t judge.  But seriously.  I am judging this woman because she chose that behavior.  I am judging her because if the little girl’s parents knew what kind of dialogue happened there, I’m pretty sure they would have some words to exchange.

How would you deal with a similar situation?  I find that most often when I get pissed off is when I have a plan in my head, and the children don’t care.  As soon as I let go of my personal agenda, I feel less stressed.

How about you?

Fatties Forever!

Bitches, I have the best news EVER.

Read this.

Tired of dieting? Too exhausted to exercise?  No need to worry about it anymore.

Despite the weight loss industry being probably one of the biggest money grabs in the entire universe, it appears as though the true answer lies in -get this- just accepting yourself the way you are.

Science has finally backed us up.  Your body is the way it is.  It  likes the shape it’s in.  And no matter how hard you try to change it, you will likely just end up frustrated and feeling shitty and it’s just so not worth it.

So I’m not saying you shouldn’t be healthful.  Lord knows I try. I try to make myself eat lots of vegetables and fruit.  I try to eat beans because they have fiber and fiber makes cholesterol go down.  It also helps you poo, and anyone who’s ever not been able to take a proper shit for like, 9 whole months during pregnancy can appreciate some good old fashioned regularity.

I run after my children.  I climb the monkey bars with them, and go down the slide.  We go for walks. I lug a 20 something pound baby around all day. I suppose I could squeak in a little more sweat time, but Bitches, I gotta save some time to drink of the grape, right?

The article I read this morning said that researchers have determined that only about 5 % of people who lose weight ever really stay there.  That is nearly impossible to lose weight in the long term.  So if you’re one of those girls who lost weight for your wedding or after you had a baby or because you wanted to fit into your high school jeans, go for it.  Just don’t beat yourself up for getting a little thicker a little later.  It’s the new circle of life apparently.

So, it seems to me that there are three choices:

A. Love your own guts and accept yourself as the creature you are.  Take care of your body but don’t stress out about numbers.  You can be healthy at a size 14 just as much as at a size 4.

B. Diet, get thin, get fat, repeat.  Hate yourself in between.

C.  Plastic surgery.

I have to say that although I am perfectly fine with having a little extra to round out my bones, I would seriously consider plastic surgery.  There is a difference between curves, and extra skin left over from a ginormous baby that made you look like a deflated tire.  So that can go, and I’ll keep my fine round ass.

And if there’s some skinny perfect bitch in your life that is making you hate her, have a little faith.  Just tie her down, feed her some lard and watch her grow.

95% chance she’ll be stuck that way forever.




This post has been brought to you by my chance meeting of the most annoying fucking mommy I’ve met in a while.

Poor Buddy spent his 11 month birthday morning at the doctor.  3 days of fever, but the ears were clear thank goodness.  I suppose now that the fever has suddenly broken, I should be expecting the rosy red Roseola rash to pop up.

Anyway, I digress, although it was due to this trip to our plucky little doctor’s office that allowed us to meet Mrs.ParentingPerfection.

You’ve all met her.  The kind where she’s got one child that she obviously adores but spends the entire time out in public showing us all how amazing he is because she is the best mommy that ever walked the planet.

She is the equivalent of that asshole at the grocery store walking around with an earpiece talking super loud to some super important dicksmack on the other end like he’s the fucking FBI on a stakeout or something.

Except she’s talking super loud in that best mommy baby voice so that all you can hear is her  down the hall even when you are in the exam room with the door shut.

She’s the one that you make polite conversation with as her little guy toddles over to say hello to you and your baby.

“when is you baby due?” I ask.

“”End of July.  I’m having another boy.”

“Oh that’s nice.  And bonus you don’t have to buy as many new things.”

“Also, I already know everything about boys, so this will be a breeze.”

Really?  I can’t wait for your 18 month old to be hanging off your shoulder while you try to find your nipples in your delirium to feed the new baby.  I can’t wait for you to forget which baby hasn’t been changed since yesterday morning.  I can’t wait for you to wipe that perfect smug little smile of your face and become a regular human being like the rest of us.

Because, honey, you’re about to misplace your cape.

“Once my toddler got old enough to help herself in and out of the car and that sort of thing, I found it easier to get out of the house.  It’s a lot of things to carry with two kids under two, haha.”

“Well, my baby already does everything for himself.  He’s super mobile and perfect and can drive the car for me sometimes. Because I taught him how to do everything for himself by the time he was eating solids. Which is also why I’m having my second baby so soon.  Because I’m fucking amazing too.  And even though I’m super pregnant, I’m going to sit here and eat dried fruit and rice cakes, because I am also having the perfect pregnancy and only bitches eat Dairy Queen every day when they are gestating.”

Ok.  Maybe she didn’t say all of those things.  But her body language screamed them at me.

And my absolutely favourite thing about Ms.ParentingPerfection was the lack of empathy she had.  Whenever I talk to other parents, it’s usually a lighthearted conversation and sometimes we swap anecdotal advice that is part of any normal two way conversation.  But this bitch had everything figured out.

After the one thousandth time she asked her son if he had to pee and he ignored her, I chuckled and said:

“Yep, that’s pretty much the standard response I get every time I ask my daughter if she has to go, and she’s almost three.  She’s just not interested yet, I suppose. Good for you for trying to start so early with a boy.”

“Well, he’s been peeing on the potty since he was 7 months old.  And the other day he accidentally pooped on the floor and he was SO devastated about it.  He’s also been accepted to Harvard, Department of Potty Training.  I have been accepted into HELL because I am a liar and an asshole.”

Seriously, Bitches.  I don’t know why this woman irked me so bad.  But I think it’s because some people are so afraid to just be real and genuine.  It’s like they have to live vicariously through their children being the superstars of everything because they themselves are just giant losers.

I’d love to hear your stories about the time you ran into the King or Queen of Pinterest and wanted to vomit on them.



Guest Blog: Home Is Where The Heart Is




From the lips pen of Hurricane Alice’s Handler, here is a post about having to move away and make hard choices.

I can only say that the idea of moving to some beautiful paradise is very appealing.  We all dream about it.  But home is where the heart is, and it takes a brave person to move away from all support and comfort to face the uncertain and unknown.  Especially with a child.

Good luck, my friends!

Well, no take backs now. The sign is up, the house is on the market. We are moving our family from dead center North America, Winnipeg MB, home of mosquitoes and a normal annual temperature range of 70ºC (-35 to +35ºC). We are moving to Vancouver. One of the most expensive housing markets in the world. But they don’t even have screens on their windows, unless there is a cat to keep indoors, they don’t know what a block heater is, and most homes don’t need A/C during summer. We will be able to see the mountains, ocean and forest whenever we like.

My husband is having his mid-life crisis at 40 – fortunately it is only a professional one. He wants to make beer for a living and took an almost entry-level position at a brewery. He’s been well trained for the job already – his previous work gave him experience running the equipment and we invested in some education for him over the last year. And I don’t yet have a job, but just scouring the job ads tells me I should have something by fall. Something that is better than I’ve had in Winnipeg for 3 years. Maybe something that is better than I ever had.

So professionally, we should have done this 5 years ago, before we had our daughter. But we were content with the cards we had in hand at the time. So now, we have a crap hand and have to gamble by drawing new cards: new jobs, new home, new daycare, new friends. It is very bittersweet. I cried to see the For Sale sign on our front yard. We hosted our last party in our home of 8 years this weekend – and it was a little sad thinking we may not be sitting around a fire with our favorite people for a long while. Some friends actually left without saying good-bye – because they didn’t want to. We have a wonderful daycare in walking distance to our home which treats us like family. And our parents are here too – our rocks.

But we’ve realized that we need to teach our 3 year old daughter that if you don’t like the cards you are dealt, sitting there and bitching about them isn’t going to do anything to change them and make you happier. You have to take the risk and redraw. Maybe we’ll draw a Royal Flush. Maybe we’ll be forced to fold, with nothing other than a high card, and slink back to the prairies to be comforted by our friends and family. No matter the outcome, it will be an adventure. We are just hoping that luck is on our side.


Oh Buddy.



I just want to say for the record, that I must be getting my period or something.  I feel extraordinarily human and filled with feelings and stuff.  Also, my Buddy is sick with a fever and a bit of baby barfing, making him extra precious and pathetically adorable.

I spent most of Sunday with my Buddy.  It was really the first time we had gone out just me and him to run errands and the first time in a while where I’ve had some time with just him.  The Destroyer was next door, which is her preferred place to be, and Daddy was doing all the yard work.

And I gotta say, Bitches, that every time I think I can’t fall any deeper in love with that little guy, I surprise myself.  Every little thing he does is filled with joy and simplicity and love.  He is just so easy to get a smile out of.  He likes to be close, and I like to have him close.

And then I feel so, so sad.  I keep thinking how I might not ever get to feel this part with another baby.  Because I’m pretty sure I’ll never be loved like this again by anyone ever again.  Maybe not even by him at some point.  Soon I won’t be the most important part of his day.

He is just growing up so fast, and my heart is dying.

So maybe the reasonable side of my brain is right and we are so very done with making offspring.  But my heart, Bitches. It’s not ever gonna shut up about this.  I could do this a million times over for these special moments.  I’ll  complain about being tired and bitchy and poor, but I really love it so much. And every time I look at those smiling little eyes and hear him say momma, I pray to God that he freeze time and never let my Buddy change.

I’m so totally gonna be one of those psycho bitch Mother-In-Laws who never lets any  woman near her son, aren’t I?

Oh Buddy.

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