thoughts on life, parenting, news, and crazy shit

Month: April, 2016

I’m Going To Pass On Skinny And Focus On Happy


I have never been skinny. Even back when I starved, and exercised and teetered very closely to the world of eating disorders, I still had a big round ass and extra flesh on my body.

And now I just feel like “whatever”.

Let’s just put aside all the childhood trauma surrounding body image and all the horrible things that grownups said to me.  Let’s forget my friend’s dad laughing at me in front of a room of adults and asking me why I was so fat.  Let’s forget my friend’s mom telling me how all the boys would pass me by at summer camp. Let’s pretend that I wasn’t forced on diets by my doctor at 8 years old.

Take all that shit away and let’s be real for a second here.

I don’t have time for any other hobbies in my life right now.

And the truth is, I like to eat things.  I am so sick of deprivation.  What the fuck is the point of being alive if you can’t enjoy simple pleasures in life?  Why bother with any of the other annoying shit in my life if I can’t sit down at the end of the day and enjoy a glass of wine and a big piece of coconut brie cheese. And if you haven’t ever tried a coconut brie cheese, your life has no meaning and you need to fix it immediately.

I went out for dinner with a friend last night, and it was fabulous.  We had a glass of wine, tried new things and left content from the good company, conversation and satisfied palates.  And it all happened in the early evening, while I left Husband to put the kids to bed and felt like I could sneak away from everyone else guilt free because nobody needed anything.

During the day, EVERYBODY always needs SOMETHING. The babies need something and call for me even when they don’t actually need anything.  The phone is always ringing with somebody who wants to sell me something, or needs me somewhere.  I am always taking care of something or someone.

And at the end of the day, I don’t have the time or energy to take up a hobby like Crossfit or yoga or pinning shit on Pinterest or whatever. 

I just want to eat something delicious with a person that I like who doesn’t need me to do anything for them.

That is my greatest goal.  That is the only hobby I am interested in at the moment.

So no.  I think I’ll pass on skinny and focus on happy.  And all the ads out there that keep shoving this link between skinny and happy down our throats are wrong.  Always thinking less of yourself than you deserve is what makes you unhappy.  Not your pant size.

So I will never be skinny because not only am I not built like that, but I am not into that. I have so little free time to just sit and enjoy things that I am not going to waste it driving myself crazy.  Not anymore.

I will drink wine and I will eat food and my bouncy jugs will heave with happiness and the junk in my trunk will sway to and fro.  And you will enjoy the view and that, is that.


Doctors Suck, But So Does Dying



If you haven’t heard about it yet, there is a case in court right now in Alberta where the parents of a 19 month old boy are charged with failure to provide the necessities of life.  Their son died of bacterial meningitis and they failed to get him the medical attention he required.  Instead, they continued to treat him at home under the advice of a naturopath.

And then I read an article about a former naturopath who believes that pediatric naturopathy should be outlawed.

I sort of half agree.

Here’s the problem:  In today’s practice of medicine, at least here in Manitoba, in feels very much like the physician’s goal is to write you a prescription to band aid whatever ailment is bothering you and send you on your way as soon as possible.  And repeat.  And repeat again.  The problem with that is that we tend to see a lot of reactive medicine; doctors seem to react to the symptoms and try to address those without necessarily figuring out what the cause is and trying to prevent the symptoms in the first place.

In addition, many doctors are very quick to invalidate any options that are outside of their scope.  I have had a specialist openly laugh at me and call me ridiculous when I suggested that chiropractic care had helped me manage symptoms.

Now, for somebody like myself who is extremely sensitive to drugs and tends to have unfavourable reactions and side effects from drug treatments such as analgesics and antibiotics, this can be frustrating and unproductive.

So what do you do?

I believe very strongly that alternative therapies including diet and natural products have a lot of benefit and work very well for me. I also feel that chiropractic care, acupuncture and massage also have many benefits and I have used each with quite a bit of success.

But I also recognize when alternative therapies have reached their limit and no amount of freshly squeezed juice and vitamins are going to cure an acute systemic infection.

And like it or not, humans do tend to be reactive.   The care that many receive in today’s system is less than they deserve and not meeting their needs.  Families and parents get frustrated because they want to be heard and they want to feel like they are part of the conversation instead of being spoken to in terms they may not even understand.  They are fed up with waiting hours to be seen by someone who doesn’t have any empathy or compassion and just wants to give them a pill and show them the door.

And so, we swing completely to the other side.  The parents on trial in Alberta had negative experiences in the traditional medical world.  They were unsatisfied with their care and stopped trusting their care providers.  And so they went to someone with less knowledge, less training but more humanity.

So, how do we solve the problem?

Why can’t it all be specialties of medicine?  If you are going to call them all doctors, why not start them all with the same training and then allow them to split into specialties like acupuncture or chiropractic or traditional medicines?  Why does there have to be a divide?  Can we just set our arrogance aside and prevent other toddlers from dying?

Or maybe medical doctors need to spend a little more time learning compassion. Maybe we need to hire more doctors and specialist so that the physicians aren’t so overloaded with patients that they have 12 month waiting lists.  Maybe then they would have more than 3 minutes to diagnose, treat you, and street you.

In any case, I am tired of having to yell at people to get basic care and needs met.  My experience of late with the Health Care in this city is abominable.  You have to fight for every little thing unless you are extremely lucky.

So, I don’t know if naturopathy needs to outlawed.  Maybe it needs more regulation, and very possible the practitioners need more training.  But at the very least, you have the ability to try some “alternative” therapies while you are waiting to get in to see someone in the medical field.

What alternative treatments do you use, Bitches?  What works for you?









G Is For Gin. One Letter Away From Win.


Some of the bloggers I know are doing this A-Z challenge, where everyday they use the next letter of the alphabet as their inspiration.  Today is “G” day.

And no.  As much as I love them, “G” isn’t for grandparents.  Or greatness.  Or Grand Canyon.

Bitches, “G” is for gin.

With it’s juniper aroma and delicious and versatile flavour, gin and I go waaaayyyy back.  For a time it was definitely my drink of choice until I whored myself out to tequila in my post birth years.

Gin is what got me into trouble, and tequila is how I’m coping with the aftermath of it.

Here is what gin means to me:

  1. Gin in a martini.  3 olives.  Very dry and the dirtier the better.
  2. Gin in a Caesar.  Don’t judge that until you’ve tried it, and then you will never go back to vodka.
  3. Gin straight out of the bottle before you go out to a club for the night.  Because it’s cheaper than drinking at the bar and then your party is already started when you get there.
  4. Ultimate panty remover.  Gin played a large role in the conception of my children. If you lean in really close, you will catch the faint scent of a pine forest in their hair.
  5. Provides some of the worst hangovers ever but it leaves a faint minty taste in the vomit.  FYI.
  6. Straight gin in a dark room after finally getting a screaming baby to sleep after a really rough day.
  7. Supposedly helps with the taste of a man’s love juice.  I heard from a friend.  I wouldn’t know because I am not a dirty whore.
  8. That I can remember.
  9. Gin Cassis martini.  JUST.DO.IT.
  10. Gin is one letter away from Win.  Losers don’t like gin…remember that when picking your friends.


Now unfortunately, I don’t drink gin much these days.  Much as Buddy ruined seafood and ketchup for me while on the inside, I haven’t been able to rekindle my relationship with gin since giving birth to him.  BUT, it took years for me to eat shrimp again, and I can report that I am gloriously pouring ketchup all over my eggs and fries and pancakes (that’s a whole other post) again.  So I have high hopes of a new relationship the G-Man, built on a solid foundation that will come back stronger than ever.

Until then, I will maintain my whore like affair with tequila, because everyone needs a little mexican in their life at some point.

What does “G” mean to you?


So Me And God Are Fighting, And I’m Not Sure He Gives A Shit

I have spent the past few weeks watching friends and family suffer unimaginable losses and changes to their lives.  Loss of loved ones, loss of independence, loss of the life they knew.  Just, loss.

And although the grief of my friends and family is not my grief to own or process, I have to say that when you watch so many bad things happen to good people, it makes you question things that you’ve believed all your life.

I gotta say, Bitches, that my faith is taking a real beating lately.  I am super pissed at God right now and He knows it.  He just doesn’t seem to care. I mean, I’m sure people question Him and get angry at Him all the time, so why would I be a special case that he personally responds to?

And yes, I know that God isn’t really gonna come down and do the burning bush thing or flash flood all the assholes in the world.  He’s already been there, done that and we’re still a bunch of pricks down here for the most part.  I guess that’s where I feel ripped off.  Can’t He just make the bad shit happen to people who are the dicks?  Can’t He let the horribly painful and undignified things that happen to genuinely good people skip them and land on someone who deserves it? Can’t he let someone die without suffering first?

Where are you???  Why aren’t you helping us???  Remember that Footprints poem about you carrying us?  Some of us could use a lift right about now.

And then it dawned on me yesterday that maybe it doesn’t work that way.  Anger blurs our vision and skews our perception a little.

Yesterday I watched a community of friends come together once again to support one another and take on a piece of each others grief. I watched us love one another and provide comfort and laughter in a real moment of shitty darkness. I have seen them do this so many times over the years.  No judgements, no bullshit.  Just raw true friendship and community. And then I remembered what the priest said about being the arms and legs of Christ.   We are God. 

And I guess we have to just be each others people.  I still don’t understand why such pain has to be endured to begin with, but I am lucky to have the community I do.  I am lucky to have my people.

And despite feeling angry toward God for not stepping in at the moments I feel He should have, at the very least I know that when something bad inevitably happens to me, I will not be alone.  Because I have an army of friends so strong and so awesome that nobody will let me fall ever.  And that is comforting.  And maybe that’s the point.

God isn’t hiding in a bush or in the sky or behind the altar.  Those things are just symbols. He actually lives in my people.

Find your village, Bitches.  It takes the edge off.



I Went To School To Learn Math, Instead All I Learned Was That My Teacher Thought I Was Fat.



While scrolling through my Facebook feed yesterday, one of my friends had posted this link. 

It’s an article where a girl is asked to calculate her BMI ( body mass index) for an assignment for school.  Instead, this articulate and beautiful child wrote a two page response basically telling them to go fuck themselves and mind their own business.  It’s much more eloquent than that…..she explains why BMI is not a good measure of one’s health and politely tells them that she is beautiful as is and the rest is none of their business.


Further to the article, my friend who lives in the same city as me, and is in the same school division made this comment:

My son had an assignment that was similar with BMI, how they keep healthy mentally, emotionally and physically and they had to rate themselves!! Really?!? All I could think of was these kids’ self esteem.)

Let me tell you a story about measuring my fatness.  From the time I was in elementary school and all the way until grade 10 when Phys.Ed. stopped being mandatory, this was part of the curriculum in gym class.  Once a year, amongst all the fitness tests like running around some pylons and hanging off a wall, the gym teacher would get out his calipers and measure the amount of fat on our bodies.  In front of the rest of the class.  They also had a picture of people’s legs and would measure the gap or lack there of between ones thighs.  In front of the class.

And I don’t give one flying fuck whether you are skinny, fat or somewhere in between.  Every single child and especially the girls felt so much anxiety about this moment that they should have provided shots of tequila first.  It was horrible and shameful and scarring.  And fuck you gym teachers for telling children that they are worth less because you could grab too much flesh off my hips with your stupid fucking calipers.  And no, you didn’t have to actually say those words to get that message across.  That’s what your actions did to us. That moment damaged us.  It damaged me.

I just simply do not understand today’s educational system.

A teacher cannot hand out a zero for work not done.  We can’t hold students back when they are not ready to move on to the next grade either academically or socially.  We can’t make them memorize multiplication tables because its too stressful.  They aren’t allowed to do homework at home.

But what we can measure is their Body Mass Index.  Because if we are going to make a child feel like shit about something, better make sure it is something that is completely irrelevant to their ability to succeed in life.  Let’s make sure we cut their confidence down for they way their body is shaped rather than hold them or their parents accountable for doing their schoolwork.  Don’t hurt their feelings or stress them out relating to anything that may prepare them for the work force one day or for University.  Instead of measuring their knowledge at school, let’s make them measure their body fat.

Seriously. Fuck.

But you know what else I remember?

I remember the gym teacher calling my dad into parent teacher interview and telling him he was “concerned” for my cardiovascular health because my time in the run was slow and I was clearly too fat.  And I remember my Dad laughing in that smug piece of shit’s face and saying “Dude, she just got of crutches with a torn knee ligament.  She walked the course.  Also, she can swim 50 meters in 32 seconds at 10 years old.  She is training in the pool 6 days a week so if you’d like to race her, I’ll set it up and put my money on my kid.  And although you may be concerned about her cardiovascular health, I am actually more concerned about your competency to evaluate it.”   

And that, Bitches, is one of those moments I will also not forget, because there was no way my dad was gonna let this asshole fuck with his kid.

So take a page out of my Dad’s book.  If your child comes home with an assignment such as this or tells you of an experience such as this, talk to the teacher immediately.  Do not allow them to shame your child.  Don’t let your child think that their self worth is determined by the opinions of others.   Stick up for your kid.  Trust me, it will be worth it.

And teachers everywhere….if you ever come near either one of my kids with a set of calipers, you will find it hanging off your genitals.



Reasons NOT To Send My Child To Kindergarten


http://www.bcsdk12.net See? Clearly a dangerous place.

With Destroyer starting kindergarten in the fall, I am really starting to feel that urge to have another baby.  It just seems like all of a sudden, my current babies aren’t babies and I feel like I’ve been sleeping through the night for over a year now so it’s clearly time to fuck that up and become crazy and sleep deprived again.  Because that’s when I’m the funnest.  I wrote some of my best shit when pregnant with Buddy.

But it might also be a knee jerk response to the fact that I can’t fathom giving her away to a complete stranger for half a day everyday. I mean, I also have to put her on a bus with some other person that I don’t know and expect them to drive her to a building full of people who aren’t me and just expect them to love her as much as I do.

A couple weeks ago, I registered her for kindergarten.  It was the hardest thing I’ve had to do in parenthood.  I am not ready for this to be a thing.  Not ready for this stage of parenthood.  Not ready for her to learn things from people who aren’t me and have her probably like them better than me.  Those teachers better be bitches, so at least she likes me better than them.  At least I’ll have that.  Right?  RIGHT?

I’ve thought about it and thought about it and think that maybe I should withdraw my registration.  I made a list of pros and cons about sending her to kindergarten:

Reasons Not To Go To Kindergarten:

  1. There are no seatbelts on the schoolbus.
  2. The teacher is not me.  She is prettier than me.  Obviously a total skank.
  3. Other children have germs.
  4. Headlice.
  5. She might have to share things.
  6. Getting dressed in the morning now has a time limit.  Clearly too much pressure for a 5 year old.
  7. She can’t bring her dog.
  8. Destroyer will have to wipe her own ass.
  9. It will make me want to have another baby.
  10. I clearly can’t cope with this change.

Reasons To Go To Kindergarten:

  1. Destroyer will have to wipe her own ass.

So you see, Bitches, the Cons clearly outweigh the Pros.  Always make a list; it provides clarity and reasoning and good, sound logic.

Although, having her learn to wipe her own ass is almost a big enough Pro to send her just about anywhere on the planet.  I mean, how long does a child need someone to wipe her ass after she shits?  Until she’s 5? 10?  I’d actually probably send her to the moon a couple days a week if the astronauts could convince her that wiping her own ass is the thing of the future.

Seriously though.  Part of me is looking forward to having some time alone with Buddy.  He’s never had that, being the second baby and all.  But part of me also thinks that having only one child at home is just way too easy and that if I’m going to maintain this level of crazy, I better get knocked up ASAP.  On the bright side, Husband, you’re life could be about to get way more porno if you agree….

So yeah.  Anyway.  Tell me about sending your Firstborn to kindergarten, Bitches.  Tell me what I’m feeling is normal. Tell me how awesome it is before I do something stupid.  Like have another baby.

Seriously talk me off this ledge.


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