thoughts on life, parenting, news, and crazy shit

Month: January, 2016

Ugh. I Just Used The Term “Time Out.”

I read a story on MSN.com this morning about a Christian couple who just got convicted of assaulting their 14 year old daughter after spanking her with a skipping rope and a plastic hockey stick.  They found out that she had sent naked photographs of herself to her boyfriend via Snapchat.

I have a few conflicting thoughts about this.  I’ve written about spanking and discipline before, but this case is a little different because the child is a teenager.

So, first of all, fucking rights I can understand where the parents were coming from.  The amount of desperate anger and disappointment they must have been feeling was astronomical I’m sure.  I mean, she was fourteen.  I’m actually surprised the Dad didn’t go over and give the boyfriend a good spanking too, because in my imagination that would have been what I would have wished I could do.

But at the same time, she was fourteen.  The father actually gave her the choice between being spanked and being grounded, and she chose the spanking.  Nonetheless, I don’t think that spanking a fourteen year old is appropriate at all.  This would be a punishment intended to cause shame, and pain.  It doesn’t really serve any sort of purpose here.

I think that there needed to be a way for her to understand the inappropriateness and possible consequences of her actions.  To see that the shame belonged in her disrespect for herself and not have it added on by an act performed by her father.

This should have been an opportunity for her to learn about self-respect, and self-control, and vulnerability.  At fourteen she doesn’t have a real knack for foresight, and it’s our job as parents to be that glimpse into the future.

And how do I feel about spanking in general?

I’ve always believed it has it’s place.  But now, after two kids I’m not so sure about its efficacy.

It seemed to work very briefly with Destroyer to grab her attention and make her understand that her current behaviour was not going to be tolerated. And then it just made her very, very sad.

I remember talking to her after giving her a spanking one day, and she looked up at me and said really quietly  “you hurt me Momma”.  At the time I thought, well yeah, it’s not really supposed to feel good.  It’s a punishment.

But I don’t think that’s what she meant.  I don’t think it hurt her physically, I think it hurt her emotionally.  And that made me feel like total shit.

These days, she gets sent to her room.  Or we take something away.  We just try to figure out what her currency is and use that to maintain control.  We also have a counting system.  Sometimes I count to three.  If I’m really pissed I count to one, and then she knows I’m dead fucking serious.

Spanking has never once worked with Buddy.  I tried a few times to spank his little bottom through his diaper when he was being a mega asshole, and he just laughed at me.  So Bestie started just putting him in a chair to calm down as we both tried not to laugh at his devastated little sad face.  It was the saddest and cutest thing I ever saw, and far more effective than any corporal punishment had been.  I am loathe to admit that I have started using the douche bag term time out.  I am also choking on my own words right now, because I hate all those cliche parenting terms.

Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve had to swallow my pride and change my opinion about spanking a little bit.  I still think that it is well within a parent’s right to include it in their toolbox to maintain authority in their household. I believe there is a window in early childhood where you need to provide an immediate consequence to an action.  I believe that the threat of a spanking is a really useful thing. For some kids, a spanking will work.  For some kids, removal from the situation works better.

So have I spanked?  Yes.

Does it work?  Not especially.  Certainly not in the long term.

Did it make me feel like an asshole for spanking my child as punishment for hitting her brother?  Kind of.

And there it is again.  Don’t be an assholeTry not to be an asshole.

That’s really what it comes down to, right?





Barbie’s “Variation Of Stupid” Collection


I had every intention of blogging about the state of my mental health in honour of Bell’sLet’s Talk Day.  But then I came across this magnificent piece of bullshit so stupid that trying to remember just how many glasses of wine I need to drink in order to stop a panic attack had to wait.

Take a look at this:


We proudly add three new body types to our line. Meet the new dolls. Learn more at Barbie.com. #TheDollEvolves

I opened up my Facebook, and this is what awaited me on my wall.  “The doll fucking evolves”??  How exactly is it evolving into anything?  The body type variation here isn’t even as good as that fucking Dove commercial with all the chicks in their underpants.

If any of these dolls are supposed to make the more ample girls feel like they are represented, you must be drunk, Barbie.

Let’s break down the Barbies here. From left to right we have:

  1.  The Whitney Houston Before She Became a Coke Head And Died Doll
  2. The Katy Perry With Tits Not Big Enough Doll
  3. The Lisa Ling Who Isn’t Investigating Something For Oprah and Is Wearing Heels Doll
  4. The Salma Hayek Who Isn’t Showing Cleavage Doll
  5. The Anorexic Christina Hendericks Doll
  6. The Not A Size Zero Probably A Size Four When She Was Crazy Brittney Spears Doll

So, Barbie.com,  can you kindly explain to me how the fuck this represents any body type other than tall, thin with small tits, and short, thin with small tits?

You couldn’t even give Katy, Christina and Salma a decent rack?  Have you looked at the female population at all recently?

It’s like how the Plus Size model industry usually consists of women who are about a size 10 or 12.

I’m not saying that we should all strive to be obese.  I’m not saying that unhealthy eating is the way we want to go.  I’m saying that variations of normal in highly under represented and that shitty attempts like this to try to include “big girls”  or “curvy girls” does nothing then make me feel worse about my body.

If this is what is considered to be different body types, I guess everything after that just falls under BLOB status.

Well, fuck you. More than once.  And then again.

I’m going to make my own line of dolls.  There will be Melissa McCarthy dolls, and Christina Hendricks dolls that actually have tits.

There will be Oprah dolls before and after Weight Watchers.

There will be pregnant dolls and 2 weeks postpartum dolls and 2 years postpartum dolls that still have a little paunch.

I’ll probably have a dwarf doll too because fuck yeah.

And I’ll make my very own doll that looks just like me.  Because I am all about the ass.

And you know what Barbie?  I loved you when I was a little girl.  I didn’t feel bothered my your micro-waisted perfect figure girls.  Because that’s who they were and nobody had to apologize for it, because thin girls with long legs are beautiful too.

But now you went and got all awkward and felt like you had to change.  And you don’t know who you are.  And that isn’t beautiful.  It’s messy and stupid.

Confidence is beauty.  Confidence is sexy.  Owning what and who you are whether you are 6 feet tall or 4 feet tall is sexy.  Rocking a big set of knockers or have itty bitty titties is sexy.  Loving yourself at the moment whatever the size of your waist or legs or ass is sexy.

But this?  This is bullshit.



Those Ungrateful Syrians


Let’s just send them home.

Yesterday I came across this article about some of the Syrian refugees that have been brought to Canada and are currently living in the Toronto area.

If you don’t  have time to read it, it talks briefly about how the government has brought these families over and put them up in hotels while they try to find them long term accommodations.

The families have been staying in motels for weeks, and in one case an entire month with no one communicating to them.  They don’t have winter clothes.  They don’t have winter boots.  They are basically stuck there with small children waiting and wondering if they have been forgotten about.  The families are frustrated, and the volunteers are worried about the lack of long term plans.

Immediately,  people start commenting about how these ungrateful people should be sent back to where they came from.  How dare they not just sit there and appreciate that they are in Canada at all?  The standard of living in Canada keeps going down and those Syrians are taking our tax dollars and should be thankful for everything they are doing for them.

Umm, what the actual fuck?

You’re worried about your standard of living and these people’s country has been completely destroyed?  They have NOTHING. Literally nothing.

Do you think that all the foster kids who get pulled out of abusive homes and end up living in a hotel room with a CFS worker should just shut up and be grateful?  And if they complain that they want a better life than that  we should threaten to send them back to a situation where their life is at risk?  Because you’re offended that your tax dollars are helping such an ungrateful human? This is NO DIFFERENT.

And what exactly have we done for them so far other than put them on a plane?

We have brought them here and given them nothing to prepare them for life as Canadians.  It’s the end of January and the kids don’t even have boots so they can go outside.

And if the parents speak up it makes them ungrateful?  They don’t have any patience?

No.  I don’t think it does.  One of the mothers actually said she would rather be in one of the settled refugee camps where at least there was some sense of community.  To me, that’s pretty indicative of how unacceptable their current situation is.

And that to me, is the key.  Some of the refugees coming here are extremely well supported by communities that have fundraised and prepared for the arrival of people in need.  Some of them, like the families in this article have been brought over and not given any supports.

Just because no one is pointing a gun at them or blowing up their fucking house doesn’t mean that they feel safe.  Are they grateful to not wonder if they will all be alive tomorrow?  I’m sure they are.  But I’m sure they aren’t grateful for the lack of medical attention for their kids.

I love Justin Trudeau.  I love his passion and his ideas and his actual desire to make this shitty world a better place.  But we can’t put the cart before the horse in order to make good on some campaign promise. We need a better plan so that the Syrians coming here have a chance at a real life again.

So instead of complaining about your standard of living, why don’t you find some empathy in your heart and think about what you would need  if your life was completely unsettled.  What would make you feel safe?  What things would you appreciate? How would you feel if you were cooped up in a two room hotel room in the middle of a Canadian winter with your six kids?  How would you feel if you were stuck in a place where you don’t speak the language and no one seemed to give a shit about what happens next?  How would you feel amongst all the uncertainty and the trauma from the war in your country?

One of my student’s parents was heavily involved in a fundraiser that earned 15K last week to support a refugee family coming in.  They have committed themselves to welcome these people into their community and support them as they start over.  And it made me ask myself, “what can you do?”  How can I help these people have a better quality of life once they’re here?

I just felt really ashamed to see the comments that I did.  I understand that many other people have come to this country as refugees and immigrants and have had to work hard to build themselves up.  I understand that that makes people feel proud and protective of their experience.  But to say ” I did it and I didn’t complain so fuck these assholes that have been through hell” is not acceptable to me.

So, try not to be an asshole today.  That’s the goal.  Help people who just had their whole life bombed out from under them.

Rant over.

Facebook? FAKEbook.



I like to think that I am a straight shooter.  I pride myself trying to live as though “what you see is what you get”.  I tell it like I see it, don’t take any shit and certainly never try to be ambiguous.  Who has time for that?

Except, do I really?  Social media has this way about it that we can twist people’s perceptions of us into anything we want.  Alternatively, you post things and people draw their own conclusions, whatever those might be.

Someone on Facebook told me the other day what a great mom I was.  I know I should just say thank you and move on, but I was like, ummm what?

The truth is that although I rant away about all the idiotic things I see and shake my head at some of the bullshit parenting advice out there, I don’t really know anything better than anyone else.

Yesterday I posted this picture:


Pretty perfect, right?

Here’s the behind the scene information:

  1. I decided to take the kids outside to play because Husband is on nights and needed some quiet in order to sleep.
  2. It was only 10 am and they were already driving up the wall.
  3. I lost count of how many times I had yelled at my children by 10 am.  I needed a distraction, pronto.
  4. It literally took me 20 minutes to get them ready to play outside.
  5. While outside, Buddy’s boot fell off about 16 fucking times.
  6. His mittens also fell off about 16 fucking times and filled up with snow.
  7. I wiped the snot off his face with his own scarf. More than once.
  8. I took about 20 shitty photos to get this good one.  So at  least I had something to show for all the trouble.
  9. It wasn’t really that fun for me.
  10. Trying to get them back in the house, undresssed, clothes hung up to dry at the same time as trying to make them a hot chocolate made me want to blow my head off.  All while they climbed all over the counters and emptied all my shit out of the cupboards in an effort to find marshmallows.  Which they didn’t even eat after.

I should have taken some pictures of all those things, if you really wanted to know what a great job I was doing that day.

I also threw Buddy’s Thor doll across the room when he tried to crawl all over me while I was trying to get to the next level on whatever stupid fucking game I was playing on my phone during “quiet time“.  I mean, who fucking does that? 

I question the quality of my parenting every single day. I always feel like I could have done better, known better, been more patient, paid more attention.  I struggle with needing a break but wanting to do more things with them.  I struggle with feeling like I let the tv or IPad babysit them too often while I cook or do laundry or check my email. I struggle with wondering if something I’ve said or done today is something they will hold in their heart forever, and how that will affect them.  I just want to make them kind, happy people.  I just want them to know how loved they are, despite my impatience and imperfections.

But you’d never know it from the perfect, smiling picture of my kid online, would you?

I guess I feel like if I can catch a few candid, smiling, adorable pictures of my kids throughout the day I feel like I’ve at least done something right.  Right?

Buying Groceries Is Making My Ass Hurt



Do you ever get the feeling that large corporations are taking over the world?  I feel like everywhere I turn, another Walmart is going up.  Where the hell are the little family owned shops in our neighborhoods where they call you by name and mean it when they say “Thank You” on your way out?

I guess right now, with Canadian dollar sitting just below the crap line and on it’s way to the shitter, and oil prices fucking over all of Alberta and therefore the rest of Canada I can’t help but be a little irritated.

When gas prices were through the roof here at 1.30$ a liter, we were told that groceries were expensive because the cost of transporting them was so high and blah blah blah.

Now, gas prices are half of what they used to be and groceries are EVEN higher than they were then.  Now we’re told it’s because the dollar is so low, so the price to import produce especially is so high and blah blah BLAH.

I guess since they can’t bend us over and rape our asses at both the gas pump and the grocery store right now, they’ll just fuck us twice as hard at Superstore.

And don’t forget the drought in California that’s been going on for a million years.  Apparently all the produce in Canada comes from California, which is unfortunate because California has also been on fire for a few years. Did anybody else notice that they are beside the ocean?  We can send people to the moon and are thinking of colonizing Mars, and Sylvester Stallone is nominated for an Oscar, but we can’t figure out a way to take the salt out of the water and use it?

You know what I think?

I think we live in a country covered in snow for more than half the year and we depend on bringing in fresh produce from places with more forgiving climates.  So the big companies (that currently own all the things of ever) know they can fuck us by charging whatever they want.  Or we could starve. Because some people hold money over ethics.

You know what we need to do?

We need to build some giant fucking greenhouses here. Huge ones.  And grow our own goddamn food.  We have a lot of space here.  We can do it, I know we can.

And while we’re at it, we’ll wait for California to run completely out of water and sell them some of ours at astronomically high prices. Water will be our new oil.  Because the price of giving you our water is so expensive and we need to earn a living.  And also because fuck you for fucking us all these years.

You know what hasn’t gone up a lot in price?

Wine. Thank God.

Because nobody wants to be poor AND sober.


I’ll Know I Have A Bikini Ready Body When My Bikini Is On My Body



As I’m scrolling through the news this morning, there were three articles about wearing bikinis.  Three!

Yes, I get it.  Bikinis are awesome.  I happen to own a few myself.  But I honestly had no idea they were so news worthy.

There were two articles about celebrities and their bikini bodies.  One was about Jennifer Aniston wanting to wear one when she’s 80.  Another about some celebrity and her “fit bikini body”. And then one more about regular people getting bikini ready or some other shit trying to convince women that they aren’t beautiful right now.

And that’s the irritating part.

You how I get bikini ready?

  • I wait for hot weather.
  • I look for a place to swim.
  • I put on my bikini.

I am so sick of the news trying to make me feel like I am not good enough or beautiful enough and that something about me always needs fixing.  Weather it be my ass or my skin or my hair or my attitude.

5 million Syrian refugees with no homes and no where to go.  Wars everywhere.  Economic and environmental crisis.  And you want to talk about whether or not my ass belongs in a bikini?

Fine. Let’s do that too. Here are all my reasons to love bikinis RIGHT NOW.

  1. Because I look hot in one, no matter what your fucking article says about getting a beach ready body.  My body is on the beach.  Therefore it is ready.
  2. I’ve had two children, which means I have limited bladder control.  A wet bikini is a lot easier than a one piece to pull off when using the bathroom.
  3. Breasts need a little support sometimes too.  Underwire!
  4. I can wear two different sizes to accommodate my assets on top at the same time!
  5. Husbands.  All husbands love bikinis.
  6. Princess Leia.  Gold bikini.  *mic drop*

I get it.  The diet and fitness industry is a million dollar industry.  Maybe a billion dollar industry.  I don’ know…. I didn’t do any real research.

All the salespeople and advertisements are so good at trying to convince you that they want to help you be healthier, happier, and better than you are today.

I call total bullshit.

They are preying on your insecurities and actually trying to make you feel like you aren’t good enough right now.  That your self worth is tied to the size of your pants or the definition of your abs.

Well, it’s not.  Your self worth should be decided by what kind of human being you are.

And yes.  Working out is good for you.  It relieves stress.  It gives you energy.  It keeps your heart pumping.  So yes.  Do that.  All the exercise.  Eat all the vegetables.  They help you shit and give you vitamins that fight scurvy.

And wear a bikini if you’re a size 4.  Or a 14.  Or any other size.  Do that too.

Fuck already.




I Met An Asshole At The Grocery Store Yesterday


So yesterday I had to stop quickly at the grocery store for oranges.  My kids eat a disproportionatley large amount of oranges compared to all other things, and Sobeys had them on sale 10pounds for 10 bucks.  Ok.  I’ll make a special trip for that.  Although now oranges are exploding all over my kitchen enough that Bestie commented on it last night.

Anyway, this super over friendly dude has this little booth set up when you walk in the door.  He asks me if i want to enter a draw to win 500$ in groceries.

Well yes.  Yes I do, but I don’t want to buy any of your shit.

So as I’m filling out the ballot and he is trying to sell me the newspaper with all these wonderful free gifts, he’s chatting with Buddy who’s sitting in the cart.  The Destroyer is putting everything that resembles an orange in the car in an effort to be a real pain in the ass.

Sorry I spelled that wrong.  In an effort to be helpful.  She was being helpful.

So he asks me how old they are, and I tell him.  “Two and four”

He’s like “Oh that’s so awesome.”  ( because everything is so awesome and amazing with this asshole that he should probably be a contestant on The Bachelor.)

And I say “Yeah, we’re almost out of the horrible part where no one sleeps and everyone cries and shits their pants.”  ( or something along those lines)

And then he says to me “Well my son is six and I love MY son.”

What the actual fuck?

I felt like I had accidentally warped into the Facebook page of one of those Mommy Groups where everything is organic and everyone is full of shit.

And crazy.  And an asshole.

Who actually says that to someone dragging their two preschooler/toddler children into a grocery store?  Have they ever actually grocery shopped with two tiny humans and had the pleasure of what a pain in the ass it is?

Of course I love my kids.  I love my kids enough that I actually didn’t punch that guy in the face.  Proof.

I just don’t love changing shitty diapers when I haven’t slept and wiping shit off someone elses balls while the other one is having a temper tantrum.  I could do without that.

So, Jerk That Sells Newspapers In A Grocery Store:  I’m sorry that I am a real person who doesn’t hide the truth.  I’m sorry that I am honest about how challenging raising children is.  I’m sorry that you love your son more because your wife was clearly the one to do the nighttime parenting while you worked on your assholing skills.I’m sorry that you now have no empathy for other people.

I’m sorry I didn’t buy your newspaper, but you honestly need a new sales pitch.

The End.

I Am The Boss Of You


Parents, you should all read this article from Macleans magazine.  It’s called “The Collapse of Parenting: Why it’s time for parents to grow up”.

It describes the decline of the relationship between parents and their children in recent years. How we’ve turned everything into a negotiation with our children and by trying to empower them we are simply allowing them to overpower the adults.  It describes a generation of entitled, lazy children who are lacking in physical activity and winning at obesity.

Last week when I was at the mall and my kids threw an epic tantrum in the middle of the fancy bath stuff store, I dragged my bratty babies out of there and marched right back towards the play area where there are benches to prop them up on so I could get their winter shit on.  Because we were fucking leaving.  We were so out of there because an asshole move means an asshole consequence in this house.

And Oh they cried.  They begged.  They told me they didn’t want to leave. They said they were sorry and could they please have their bath bomb.

Good.  And nope.  Good that you’re sorry and nope you’re not getting your treat.  Because rewards are for good behavior and achievements and consequences are for children who are currently acting like dicks.

And I felt like I would be loving my children less by giving into their pleas, because in the grown up world you have to learn to deal with the consequences of your actions.

Lo and behold right beside me was another parent dealing with their child who also happened to be having a freak out because she didn’t want to leave the play area.  It was a real team effort by the three of them.  A trio of unhappy screeches about how unfair their lives were.

And I smile with empathy at the other mom to say “we’re all in this together”.

And then she proceeded to ask her 2 year old’s permission if they could just go into London Drugs for a few things and would that be ok?  And then we can come back and play.

What the ever living fuck?

Trust me.  When you put your two year old in charge of your shit it will only result in everything bad.

And yes.  I KNOW that when you have a baby everything revolves around their needs and that they are kinda in charge of what gets done in a day.  But for god’s sake don’t actually hand them the reins!

I just feel like sometimes shit has to happen because I said so.  Maybe I’m that asshole who doesn’t seem to empower their kids, but I feel like I empower them by giving them the opportunity to be good at something.  Like art or music or sports or whatever.  I feel like I empower them by giving them the power to make harmless good decisions about whether to wear blue pants or red pants or whether to eat cheese or yogurt for breakfast.

Those are the decisions they should be making.

Not whether or not Mommy is allowed to go into a store because you don’t feel like leaving the goddamn play area.

Sometimes you just gotta love your kids by dragging them out of the store and not giving into their crap.


Bae, You Are My Best Ducking Frand.


If there was an award for worst texter ever, I would definitely be a front runner.  I literally cannot type words as fast as they come to my head and so my texts end up being a sea of nonsense with the word “ducking” splattered amongst all the other shit.

You would think that after all those years, my phone wold understand that the word ducking is simply not usable in all the ways that “fucking” is and that seriously who says ducking that much?

My IPhone also liked to change “OMG” to “IMF” whatever the hell that stands for.

So anyway, I began to assume that everybody else was challenged in the same way…..too big thumbs and a loser phone with no taste for colourful language.  I mean really, Steve Jobs?  Were you that much of a goody two shoes?

When I started seeing “bae” in texts or on Facebook, I thought people were trying to write “babe” but just having a typo.  Turns out it’s a new word in the Urban Dictionary.  Some other wonderfully ridiculous companions are “yas, frands, and jelly”.

I literally just found out about these words this week.  And here’s the thing:

YAS just means yes.

FRAND just means super friend.

JELLY means you’re an asshole who can’t spell jealous and gave up.

I seriously don’t know what to do with all this bullshit lazy slang going on here.  I mean, if Husband suddenly referred to me as his Bae, I’d be like: you know that’s a verb right?  The kind that wolves do when there’s a full moon?

And what fuck is even the point of YAS?  You’ve changed one letter and now everybody thinks you have some weird accent from a country that doesn’t have the letter E in their alphabet.

There’s already a word for FRAND, and it’s BESTIE.  We don’t need a million new words to describe the same goddamn thing.

I don’t know.  It just seems like a bunch of people got together and decided that wearing their jeans halfway down their ass and listening to hip hop wasn’t enough to make them appear to be all badass.  Now they have a lingo.  Except it’s the white-privileged -trying-to-be-cool lingo that really just makes you sound like an asshole.

It’s bad enough that texting has undone all the hard work teachers have worked for in school to help us learn to spell.  Everything is shortened because it takes too much time to write out full words in a text.  We are becoming so lazy and disconnected in our relationships that we can’t even be bothered to use real words and spell them out.

The English language is becoming so abbreviated that it looks like we’re trying to fit everything we say on a license plate.

As a lover of music and language, I just shake my head.  We are  such a lazy generation. Here’s an idea:  If you have so much to say that every word gets shortened into some bullshit slang that your Mom can’t understand, pick up the fucking phone instead, and talk like a human.


So This Guy Knocked Up This Girl….And Now He’s Suing Her.


The other day I read some news story on msn about this guy who’s suing his ex girlfriend for getting pregnant by accident.

Can you even believe this shit?

These two consenting adults had a relationship for a few months, got down and dirty.  She was on the pill, so he didn’t bag his groceries and WHOOPS!  Baby.

So this dickhead is trying to sue her for 4 million dollars because of all the emotional trauma he’s suffered due to an unwanted pregnancy.

First of all, this guy is a doctor.  So he likely knows a little bit about reproduction and that nothing is 100%.  She could have gotten drunk and missed a pill.   She could have been sick and puked up a pill.  She could have taken a medication that interacted and fucked up her pill.  If the idea of an unplanned pregnancy is that fucking traumatizing to you, why would you leave your fate in the hands of some chick you’ve been banging for two months?

Would you leave your fate in her hands about STDs too?  Oh, right.  You did that too.  Because you’re an idiot. Your little friend down south is better off with a raincoat on, and you know it.

Second of all, I laugh in the face of this guys emotional trauma.  Because he can walk away at any point.  Her?  She’s either got to choose to end the life inside her and live with that forever, or keep the child and love it and nurture it and live with that choice forever.  So I’m gonna go ahead and be a sexist bitch and say that if anybody is suffering an emotional trauma here, it’s the mother.

She’s the one who has to endure a pregnancy alone.  Face birth without a partner, face those sleepless nights without a partner.   And Bitches, we all know how much hard work that is.

The judge basically ended up throwing his case out of court and rightly so, in my opinion.  She even refused to allow the parent’s full names to be in the case file for fear that the child would one day grow up and see how their father felt about them.

Maybe the mother should counter sue him for knocking her up and refusing to wear a condom?  How about for suffering the emotional trauma that comes with the realization that you’ve been fucking a total douche canoe for the last few months?

And yes, I get it.  The guy wanted to meet the woman of his dreams, get married, have children later.  That’s his ideal.

But you know what?  Sometimes life hands you shit and it seems overwhelming and you wish it could have happened another way.  But when a child is involved?  A life that, wanted or not, you have helped create?  That is a blessing.  Maybe a disguised one at first, but there is always room to love a baby now matter what the circumstances of their existence are.

So you know what, Dr. Dick?

Just grow the fuck up.

The End.



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Archon's Den

The Rants & Rambles of A Grumpy Old Dude

Mind Of An In-Depth Woman

My thoughts about love, music, spirituality, relationships, life and random topics in between

The Bede Update

He may be small but he is mighty

Ends and Beginnings

"The World is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning."-Ivy Baker Priest

Musings of An Insomniac

Late night thoughts of a perpetual dreamer..

Surviving Grief

How to embrace grief and heal


This WordPress.com site is the cat’s pajamas


A blog about family, food, and other good stuff.

Mums diary blog


Breaking Sarah - Bruised, Not Broken

One woman's raw journey through incest, teen pregnancy, trauma, death, and family estrangement.


Letting it all hang out


A stay at home mothers guide to self discovery

Peace Hacks

in search of a better us

Luminous Blue

a mother's and daughter's journey with transformation, cancer, death and love

The Secret Life of Emily Maine

a place to shout my secrets

Dramatic Momologue

The juggle is real.

Ben's Bitter Blog

"We make bitter better."

David McVety

A Spiritual Shepherd's Thoughts on Faith and Family

Beating Myself Into a Dress

First a wedding dress, then a maternity dress, now I'm just trying to fit into ANY dress.

The Fat Chick Memoirs

Dealing with my Weight-Loss One Funny Story at a Time

The Science of Mom

The Heart and Science of Parenting

The Fat Bottom Bard

Waxing Poetic and Penning Tall Tales

Jeneral Musings

A personal potpourri of thoughts

Supporting Birth Diversity

Celebrating the Tapestry of Motherhood


frightfully wondrous things happen here.

An Early Start

Meet Jax a funny, kind, and smart preschooler who was a micro-preemie born at 23 weeks. Now that Jax is older, the scariness of the NICU has faded, but we're still learning how to manage the lasting effects of prematurity including chronic medical issues, ADHD, and Autism Spectrum Disorder. This is our story of love, hope, and survival.

Writings From Dr. Oolie's Pond

Poetry, Prose, and Random Thoughts

You're Wrong and That's Okay

Helping those who should really learn to help themselves...

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