The one where she talks about joining the cult

You hold off for a really long time. You don't want to admit that with a growing family some things just end up making sense, no matter how hard you fight it. "That place is not a place for cool, hip people like me! That place is for soccer moms and tinfoil hat wearers who need to keep a lifetime supply of toilet paper and canned meat on hand for the zombie apocalypse. Urban people like me shop a couple of times a week at street markets on the way home. We eschew the car and take reusable bags along with us. Because not only are we cool and hip, we are totally saving the environment!"

And then one day you realize you simply do not have time to keep up the trips to the little corner market, quaint though it may be. You've got to get your kid to swimming and, tired as you are while growing another kid, getting a decent meal into her before that class is hard enough. It sure would be easier to have more things on hand. Ah, the worm has turned. The next thing you know, representatives are at your office bringing new inductees to the cult selling memberships. With the workplace visit discount and the free movie passes, it pretty much pays for itself. Now you've gone and done it! You've joined the cult Costco.

The first trip is overwhelming. Peanut butter and jam sold by the bucket tend to have that effect. Once you get the hang of it your days of keeping things simple and small are over. Your tinfoil roll is roughly the size of a microwave, you will never run out of fruit cups or goldfish again. And the meat section... You finally understand why you bought that freezer lo many years ago. It's like you had a premonition that you were going to end up here some day. Suddenly your lonely basement freezer is filled to the brim with a month's worth of delectable meats you bought in bulk and individually vacuum sealed with the fancy new gadget that you bought at... That's right! Costco.

Perhaps it's a good thing your tinfoil roll is huge, because you'll need it to make your hat once you head over to the toilet paper aisle.


This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #95 word prompt: In the freezer. For more info about GBE2, click here.

The one where she talks about adding another year

Last year I spent my birthday in an airport. This year I started it off in a long, long line to renew my drivers' license. "Happy Birthday! That'll be $75 please." You know, I really have to do a better job of planning this shit.

We were supposed be on a fabulous vacation to commemorate the 10th anniversary of my 28th birthday, but this pregnancy has had enough drama so I thought it prudent to stay a little closer to home. Hooray! Local waterpark! Don't knock it, my kid's unbridled joy in the water is just an awesome sight to behold. We were supposed to leave Monday but The Husband had a scheduling SNAFU. I pouted for a bit and then decided since I already booked the whole week off I would celebrate my birthday with gusto! Insert something about lemons and lemonade here.

First I was presented with a gift and a card signed by The Husband and M, who has mastered all of the letters in her name. Because she is brilliant. Then I went to see my good friends at Service Ontario. OK, that's just a necessary evil, but my next stop gets us right back to gusto as I treated myself to a lengthy prenatal massage and savoured the free lunch the spa offers on one's birthday. By myself, with nothing but a magazine for company. Time to myself in absolute quiet! I followed that up with a mani/pedi and a free birthday latte from Starbucks. Best. Birthday. Ever.

Alright, so my idea of a celebration with gusto differs somewhat from what would have come to mind 10 or 20 years ago, but it was a damn fine day. And now, I will take to my bed and allow the post-massage glow to lull me off to sleep.

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #92 word prompt: Gusto. For more info about GBE2, click here.

The one where she talks about rock bottom

I've never struggled with addiction or mental illness, so I have no personal familiarity with the place known as rock bottom. I hope I never do. But you know who does? Kermit THE Frog. See his story here:



This years old video was brought to you by a desire to participate in GBE2's Week #70 word prompt, Bottom, in spite of a wretched, kid-delivered cold. For more info about GBE2, click here

The one where she talks about moments in time

*Click* Once in a while I make that sound in my mind as I try like hell to freeze a memory. Just a little snapshot in time. I tried a bunch of times when The Parasite was a baby to just capture how that moment made me feel. Like when she was laying beside me sleeping. Or the first time she smiled. The way it felt when she was sleeping on my chest. The way it feels now when she climbs into our bed after a bad night and presses herself into me until she feels safe and warm and drifts off to sleep.

Of course you can't take a picture of a memory. Those snapshots in time are just my way of slowing it down. It hasn't worked yet, but it won't stop me from trying.

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #66 word prompt: Snapshot. For more info about GBE2, click here

The one where she talks about the morning meltdown

The Threenager

I'm not a baby! Why is she treating me like a baby? I can dry my hands and hang up my towel all by myself. You know what? Screw you, lady. "I DON'T LIKE YOU." What's this? She has dared to step over me to go into my room and get my clothes for the day. Hey, I can do that by myself too! Oh my God! She just stepped over me again and went downstairs to the kitchen. Do you hear me, Mommy? "I DON'T LIKE YOU!" Has she moved on to the making of breakfast? Clearly my protestations are too quiet. I must sit here on the floor and scream louder. "I DON'T LIKE YOU. I DON'T LIKE YOU. I DON'T LIKE YOU." Um, I don't see her. Oh, I think she's in the living room again, time to ratchet up the volume! "I DON'T LIKE YOU. I DON'T LIKE YOU. I DON'T LIKE YOU." Hmmmm. She doesn't seem to be coming to my rescue. And I'm kind of hungry. I guess I should knock this shit off and go downstairs. Her breakfast smoothies are pretty tasty, after all...

The Mean Mommy

Oh for fuck's sake, kid. If you'd hung up your towel one of the first five times I asked you to I wouldn't have done it for you. I don't have time for this today. The rest of my dental cleaning is in 45 minutes, nobody has eaten, and I'm still in my underwear. What do I do with THIS pickle? Deep breath. She's not hurt, she's not sick, she's just three. Tune it out and keep on keeping on. Hey, you know from a floor away at the other end of the house it's... Nope, it's still really loud. Gee, I wonder if the hygienist frowns upon people arriving with boozy mouth for the first appointment of the day? Ahhhh, the blender. Never thought I'd be so glad to hear it. Oh, here she comes. Jesus, with the red cheeks she looks even cuter. "Come here, you. You look like you need a hug and a kiss."

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #65 word prompt: Two Perspectives. For more info about GBE2, click here

The one where she talks about The Man Cave

Two days ago, it was Father's Day. The Husband and I don't exchange gifts for Christmas, and on birthdays we go out for a nice dinner at the restaurant of the honouree's choosing. But on Mother's Day and Father's Day a gift exchange and a special dinner at home are de rigueur, as is just generally doing everything we can to make the other feel special. This parenting gig is awesome, but it's often thankless. Making a big deal of these occasions is our way of thanking each other for the remaining 364 days of chaos.

I had planned to let him have a nice, long sleep before serving him a breakfast of hot coffee, farmers' market eggs and double-smoked bacon, but that plan was partially thwarted by the telltale *bzzzzt* of every appliance in the house shutting off simultaneously due to a power failure. It woke us both up and he wasn't able to fall back asleep, poor guy. Luckily I wrote the book (OK, blog post) on how to MacGuyver a pot of coffee in the face of adversity. I'm pleased to report that it works just as well for bacon and eggs. Toast? Not so much. We do what we can in these trying times.

This year, his request was for "a nice, big rib eye" that he wanted to cook himself over coals and an open flame. Why would he choose to tame fire rather than use the perfectly good BBQ not 10 feet away? I've learned that when it comes to deep-seated man cave shit, it's best to not ask questions.

Two days ago we celebrated what an awesome job The Husband does of being a dad. And the steaks were pretty damn tasty, too.


This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #57 word prompt: Two Days Ago. For more info about GBE2, click here

The one where she talks about a do-over

I used to spend a lot of time analyzing past "fork in the road" decisions. Good Lord, what a waste of time! The fact is could have, should have and would have all amount to didn't. Unless there is still time to undo a decision, it is pointless to consider the alternatives.

If I had zigged instead of zagged at any number of points in my life, things might have been very different. I might have picked a different university, or a different major. Maybe I would have met a sweet guy at a coffee house in a different town. And then I might not have met The Husband or had The Parasite. What a horrible thought! I can't imagine a life without either one of them. Would I have saved some painful experiences? Maybe. But maybe I needed to learn those lessons to make different choices later.

I made a promise to myself to make decisions I wouldn't regret, and then move on. It has encouraged a lifetime of careful consideration and decisiveness. I don't believe in much, but I do believe things happen for a reason. All of the choices I have made have delivered me to exactly where I needed to be, exactly when I needed to be there. I am right where I'm supposed to be. In other words if I had my life to live over, I wouldn't change a damn thing!


This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #56 word prompt: If I had my life to live over... For more info about GBE2, click here

The one where she talks about little loves

Ahh, guilty pleasures. We all have things we love but would be ashamed to admit to in mixed company. Here are my Top 7 guilty pleasures. Yes, seven. I couldn't think of 10 and as we have established, I'm really quite lazy. Hey, maybe laziness is #8... OK, I'll get on with the list now:

1. Glee. I'm a bit of a music geek. Admitting that I love the showtunes and high school drama is hard for me, but I do. I actually *like* Rachel too. Oh, and I want to do dirty things with Puck. Don't go calling the police just yet, he's actually going to be 30 later this year. I'm not even in cougar territory here.
2. True Blood. Yup, more TV, this time pure camp with vampires and werewolves and fairies. Oh my! Also, Alexander Skarsgard, who is currently #1 on my famous five list. I get to see a whole lot of him mostly naked which makes every cringe-worthy bit of dialogue worthwhile.
3. The Southern Vampire Mysteries, aka the Sookie Stackhouse books that True Blood is based on. Terrible fiction, simply dreadful. I'm glad I use an e-reader so nobody on the subway or in the elevator in the office knows I'm reading them. But still I devour each book in a matter of days and find myself impatiently waiting for more.
4. Naps. Man, I love naps. When The Parasite was a baby she often had trouble going for her afternoon nap without me laying beside her. A year of mat leave gives you enough time to figure out that the cultures observing siesta are really on to something. Now when I'm napping I feel like I'm neglecting things that are much more important, and yet still I snooze. Because naps are awesome.
5. Brunch. What a decadent meal! Brunch happens on days you slept too late to make it for breakfast, so you go somewhere that serves eggs at noon and feel very sophisticated about it. I haven't had brunch in... three years. Damn.
6. The Elmwood. A morning at the spa is about as decadent as it gets. The older I get, the more apt I am to just tell people what I want for Christmas and my birthday. In case you're wondering, it's gift cards for The Elmwood. My benefits plan covers massage, so it's really all about the therapeutic outcome. And feeling rather like a lady who lunches. 
7. Starbucks. I admit it, I'm a junkie. Nothing fancy, just a non-fat latte in my reusable cup. The other day, they sent me a gold card with my name on it. It occurs to me that I may have a problem, but I'm not ready to do anything about it yet.

There you have it, little things that make my days brighter. What are your guilty pleasures? Are there books or TV shows you're ashamed to admit you love?

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #52 word prompt: Guilty Pleasure. For more info about GBE2, click here

Finally! A use for QR codes!

I work in marketing, which means I am subjected to all the latest gimmicks and trends at a staggering rate. Often there are good ideas that are terribly, terrible executed. QR codes are a good example of an OK idea gone wrong. I see them used most often on subway posters. Great! Oh, wait. There's no signal on the subway. That means I have to be interested enough to delicately balance my book and my coffee cup to dig out my phone, unlock it, snap a picture on a moving vehicle and then remember that I did that later to go check out a website for some contest I might have wanted to enter but probably wouldn't have and anyway it ended three weeks ago. Yes, these are the first world problems I encounter every day, and yet I find the strength to carry on.

The ONE time I did bother to do all that, I got above ground and the fucking link didn't work. FAIL! The one above is another example of heinous QR code abuse. It takes you on a journey... to the blog you're already reading! If you care enough to take me with you wherever you go, I'm very flattered! I also think you probably already have a reading list you're perfectly happy with, thereby rendering the QR code redundant.

But wait! I'm here to help. Ever enjoyed a fantastic bottle of wine at a restaurant and then not, for the life of you, been able to remember what the hell you were drinking last night? Sure, the bottle(s) of wine might have something to do with that, but it's also an invented problem that I hope to solve. What if... wineries used QR codes, allowing you to look up what the hell you were drinking last night in the cold, harsh light of day? Yes, you could also take out your phone and make a memo of the info, but if you're drunk there's a good chance you're going to make a terrible mess of that task. Let's ignore how difficult it is to take a steady shot after copious amounts of wine too. I'm interested in progress, not problems, people!

Excuse me, I'm off to become a zillionaire. I just have to develop a prototype that doesn't look like shit.


This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #51 word prompt: Parody. For more info about GBE2, click here

The one where she talks to strangers

Six years ago, in what seems like another lifetime now, I crossed "See the Pyramids" off my bucket list.  Toronto to Cairo isn't a popular enough route to warrant a direct flight, so it required a stopover in Amsterdam both ways. On the way back I booked a few days in Amsterdam, because why not? I met The Stranger on that flight. What a story to tell the grandchildren! "We met on the way from Cairo to Amsterdam." Can you imagine? He was exotic and gorgeous, like one would expect the man you meet on a globetrotting adventure to be.

My flight was delayed. I was still a smoker back then and the only seat left in the airport lounge was the one in a booth across from him. After I sat down we made the idle chit-chat you make when circumstances force you to sit a few feet away from a person you don't know. We learned we were on the same flight. We talked about Amsterdam and things to do while there. When we discovered the plane was half empty, we sat together. It's a long flight, might as well have company to pass the time.

When we landed, he invited me to dinner. I said yes. After all, a stranger is just a friend you haven't met. He was there for work so his days were full, but we spent the evenings together. His mother was Egyptian, he was visiting her family but he was raised in Munich and still lived there. He was ridiculously interesting. When my three days in Amsterdam were up, he invited me to come to Germany for the weekend. Tempting! But I said I couldn't. We didn't exchange contact information. Why bother pretending you're going to keep in touch from half a world away?

I spent a lot of time wondering why I didn't go. It wouldn't have caused undue financial hardship to change my flight or spend a few more days away from home. Yes, he was exotic and gorgeous, but he was also smart and a lot of fun. I still had plenty of vacation time left, an occupational hazard of workaholism. Means. Motive. Opportunity. Was I nuts? A beautiful stranger invited me to a strange land and I said no? What the hell was wrong with me?

I flew home and carried on with my life. I thought about The Stranger once in a while, but only in passing. A few months later I met another stranger, this time one a little closer to home. I think I didn't go because I knew on some level the gorgeous, exotic man half a world away was not THE Stranger I was destined for. Our story isn't quite "We met on the way from Cairo to Amsterdam," but it has a happy ending. I hope the grandchildren will understand.


This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #50 word prompt: The Stranger. For more info about GBE,  click here.   

The one where she talks about what she's watching

Right now, I'm watching Grey's Anatomy. It's more out of habit than loyalty now. I could probably figure out what was going on with whom if I'd, you know, look up from my laptop and pay attention. But then I'd have to care and, you know, look up from my laptop and pay attention. That's what I'm doing now, and I suspect I'll be doing more of the same later.

I wonder how many of the "nows" in my life are filled with not much of anything? "What are you doing?" "Nothing." I have to be careful not to get too introspective, because then I'll start thinking about everything else I should be doing right now. And then I'll feel lazy or guilty because something like another load of laundry would be a much more productive use of my time than sitting here half watching a TV show that I don't really care about anyway.

Oh good, we've gone from Grey's Anatomy to fart jokes on South Park. There's no chance of introspection now.

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #48 word prompt: Now. For more info about GBE,  click here.  

The one where she looks in the mirror

You know you have finally arrived as a mother the day your very small child calls the guy who just cut you off in traffic a douche. Time to put away the driving words! Having a little person allows you to see the way you treat people come right back at you. You know, kind of like looking in a mirror. In our case, it doesn't hurt that it is actually like looking in a mirror:

 

A couple of weeks ago, she put her hands on her hips and said "OK Mommy, these are your options..." Methinks I've said that to her once or a thousand times before... She's very free with the I love yous, and it makes my heart swell every time. I'm happy she feels enough love to share it so readily. On these days, looking in the mirror of motherhood is like looking in the actual mirror when I'm having a great hair day. Hells yeah, this kid is awesome. Under my astute tutelage, she's going to be a fine human being!

And then there's the days where looking into the mirror of motherhood is like looking at yourself in the actual mirror on the second or third day of the flu. When your eyes are crusted over and the snot is free-flowing on your upper lip, and let's not even get started on the hair. The days when you see that she's exasperated in seconds because an argument is not going her way. Or when she runs out of patience and throws whatever she was trying to figure out as far away as she possibly can. Because that's like looking in a mirror too. 

I'm always going to have bad hair mom days. I'm never going to be completely satisfied with what I see reflected back at me in miniature form. But just like the regular mirror, most of the time what I see is just fine. If only the mirror could fast-forward a little for me to let me know what I'm going to see further down the road!

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #45 word prompt: Mirror. For more info about GBE,  click here.  

10 lessons I want to teach my daughter (but she'll probably have to learn herself...)

There's a lot of things I have learned in all the years I have roamed this earth, "If I knew then what I know now" kind of stuff. I would like to teach my daughter these things some day to save her some heartbreak. But she probably won't listen, and she will make the same mistakes and learn these sometimes painful lessons on her own. Here are the Top 10 things I want to tell her: 

1. Be wary of big, romantic gestures. This is not universally true, but big, romantic gestures are often diversion techniques for assholery. An occasional hot air balloon ride or surprise trip is fine, even sweet, but if it's overwhelming your alarm bells should go off. If you spend your whole life waiting for Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet with these big gestures, you might be waiting a really long time. 95% of the leisure moments in your adult life will be spent sitting on the couch. Make sure the person you're sitting there with is one you like a whole lot.
2. Don't go out of your way to date musicians. Not all of them are dirtbags, but so many are that if you spend a significant amount of time as a groupie, you'll be so bitter and jaded by the time you find one that isn't a dirtbag that you'll probably mess it up anyway. The same applies to actors, professional athletes and members of any other group or profession that grow accustomed to having their egos fed on a near-constant basis.
3. The world is a big place. See as much of it as you can. We've been dragging you to hither and yon since before you could walk. Yes, this subjects you to the misery that is the airport, but it has also exposed you to different cultures, ideals, people who think differently than you do. I do hope you've been paying attention, and that you've learned a thing or two along the way. I also hope you'll keep it up at every available opportunity. There is no place in the world I regret traveling to, the only regrets I have are the times I didn't go when I had the chance.
4. You don't have all the time in the world. Fertility drops off much earlier than you think, and you have less time than you imagine if you want to do the whole "married with children" thing. It's OK if you don't want to, it's your life to live. But be really, really honest with yourself and don't shrug it off thinking there's always going to be a later, because there might not be. If you're thinking you need to own a house or have $X in the bank or reach X level in your career before you get started, know that people have committed far worse crimes than not being "established" when they brought their baby home.
5. It doesn't matter what high school you go to. In your last year of grade school, you will agonize over what high school to go to next year. Misguided people will tell you it is the most important decision you will ever make, and it will determine the course of the rest of your life! It won't. For that matter, it doesn't really matter what university you go to either, as long as it's not one only known for its excellent underwater basketweaving program. Go where it will make you happy to be. If you realize once you're there that you're not happy, go somewhere else. Take an extra year. Hell, take two. It's more important to find what you love than it is to graduate at the same time as your friends.
6. The teen years are NOT the best years of your life. If I may be frank, the teen years suck big, giant, hairy donkey balls. In my adult life, I work with people who (ostensibly) went to high school. I don't know what clique they belonged to while they were there. It's six years filled with hormones, acne and angst. Just survive it and I'll do whatever I can to help. I promise you it gets SO MUCH BETTER.
7. I love you with my whole heart. Even when you're being a little shit. There will be times when I will be mad at you. I will say you should know better, and you should. But even when you're being truly miserable, know that I love you 100% of the time. Even when I'm having a hard time keeping it together.
8. It's not your job to make anyone else happy. Don't pack your bags for guilt trips. Don't be cruel and don't deliberately hurt people, emotionally or physically, but don't give up big pieces of yourself to please others. The person you need to live with is YOU, and if that gets lost in the shuffle you'll never be able to please anyone, least of all yourself.
9. Don't let anyone make you feel bad about yourself. Some day you might accidentally find yourself dating an asshole, or have a friend (or a relative) who doesn't treat you well. People will only treat you poorly or make you feel bad about who you are if you let them. Keep the company of people who make you feel good, the ones you instinctively seek out when the chips are down. Jettison those who bring you down like the dead weight that they are.
10. You are not invincible. Take care of yourself. If your gut is telling you something is a bad idea, listen to it. If you think it's unsafe, it probably is. Your friends will do stupid things and you don't have to follow them, no matter what they say. No matter where you are or what you're doing, if you decide it's the wrong place to be, call me and I will get you home from anywhere. I promise I won't be mad, or at the very least I'll do my best to stifle my anger until a more appropriate time. Just come back to me in one piece.

I'm sure there are many more lessons that I'll watch her learn the hard way, and my heart will break along with hers as she learns them. What lessons do you wish you could teach the kids in your life to spare them a little pain?  

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #44 word prompt: Make a List and Title It. For more info about GBE,  click here.  

The one where she calls shenanigans

Oh, goodie! It's St. Patrick's Day on Saturday, aka "Amateur Hour at the Bar." Now, I spent more than my fair share of time holding up a bar stool in honour of the occasion back in the day. Or was it the bar stool holding me up? Anyway, since becoming a real live grown up I have studiously avoided public places on March 17th. It seems my luck (of the Irish - HA!) has run out. I spent my birthday in an airport and I've been having a pretty shitty week so I need a damn night out. The Husband is taking me out for my extremely belated birthday dinner on Saturday because it's when we have the time and the babysitter. 

That's right, I'm leaving the comfort of my home on St. Patrick's Day. I am warning you now, people of Toronto, none of the following shenanigans will be tolerated in my presence:

• Green beer, or any other dyed green food because... ew!
• Public urination. If I catch you peeing in public, I will take a picture and tweet that shit so fast your head will spin. Won't your mother be proud?
• Vomit. Pro Tip! If you are throwing up in public, you are too drunk to be out in public. Take your sorry ass home!
• Hugging, kissing, or any other touching of my person. Unless you are The Husband.
• Slurred renditions of Danny Boy. Or When Irish Eyes are Smiling. Let's just call it an all-out kibosh on singing, shall we?
• Asking me why I'm not wearing green. I don't need to wear green on St. Patrick's Day, doofus! I'm Irish every day.

If you can all follow these simple rules while I'm out in public, everything will be just fine. Don't worry, I'll go home by midnight. If not, do not be surprised if you hear the wail of a banshee. And if you don't know what that signifies, you shouldn't be out celebrating St. Patrick's Day anyway. Poser. Thank you in advance for your cooperation.

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #43 word prompt: Shenanigans. For more info about GBE,  click here. 

The one where she talks about a good fight

It may come as a surprise to you to learn that I have a bit of a temper. Hahahaha, OK it's not surprising at all. I have gotten better with age, and parenting has taught me a lot about picking my battles and counting to 10 before flying off the handle, but once quick to anger, always quick to anger.

The Husband, on the other hand, does not get mad at all. Ever. He truly is the Yin to my Yang. The untrained eye might take this as a lack of assertiveness on his part. That would be a mistake. There is nothing weak or passive about that man, he just manages to do what he needs to do without getting flustered. For example, when I was in labour there came a point where it was clear that I needed to throw up (again) and the receptacle provided was no longer adequate. While the rest of the room panicked looking for another (probably inadequate) receptacle, The Husband very calmly took the one I had, emptied it into the garbage can, and handed it back to me. A room full of people who spend all day, every day with people in labour were flummoxed and The Husband, supporting his wife through the birth of their first child, was the one who stayed calm and solved the problem.

I spice up his life a little by flying into a rage about the fucking property tax bill, and he grabs my arm before I tilt over the edge. Perfect match! Except... Sometimes those of us who are quick to anger like a good fight. Seems silly to think that some people thrive on a little confrontation unless you are one of those people, but there you have it. Sometimes, I need someone to spar with to keep my claws sharp. It sounds crazy, I know. Luckily, my loving husband has just the solution to this seemingly insurmountable problem:

The cable, hydro and insurance companies. The bank. The tax collector. Defective product manufacturers. Issues with all of the above and then some are my exclusive domain in our household. Billing amount is wrong? I go get 'em. Overtaxed? I'm on it. Claim mishandled? RAWR! New thing for The Parasite broke on first use? Oh, I'll get my damn money back, fear you not! It's a perfect system for an imperfect couple.

What are things like in your house? Do you have one cool and collected and one brimming with fire? If you're not coupled, do you have to be a little Jekyll and a little Hyde?


This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #42 word prompt: Confrontation. For more info about GBE,  click here.  

The one where she talks about things that grate

I have a list of pet peeves as long as your arm. Every day, people do things that irritate me. It's usually not their fault they're completely clueless, but that doesn't make me any less grumpy. I'm limiting myself to a Top 8 here, so it's a good thing I've already covered off public transit annoyances in another post. I could not, in good conscience, bypass public transit on a bitch list. Alright, here we go:

1. Clueless shopper #1. The person in front of me in the grocery line who stands there twiddling their thumbs while their groceries are rung up and then loads the packages into their cart before making a move to dig out their method of payment. Seriously? That you were going to have to pay for your shit is a surprise?
2. Automatic flushing toilets. I can work around the annoyance in potty training, but I have yet to remember to bring my own pack of Post-Its to the bathroom. Who designed these things? Why do they soak my ass as I'm sitting down? Why won't they let me flush my own damn toilet? I have a hand at the end of each arm, and am fully down with the complicated technology of the flush lever.
3. The weavewalker. The person who doesn't check their blindspot on foot. Going to abruptly change directions on a busy sidewalk? Give a peek over your shoulder to make sure you're not smashing into someone, k?
4. Clueless shopper #2. Yes, that is a line. It is not a group of people who have stood one behind the other for lack of something better to do. Please join it, at the back. No, you can't just "ask something quickly," because I am standing in line to ask something quickly.
5. The one who left the photocopier a mess. Who gets every error light on that thing lit up and then walks away? Why didn't they tell someone?? Was it you? Because I kind of want to smack someone for it, and you'll do. Better still, now that it's an all in one deal, I can't print, scan, fax or make a copy while the stupid thing is fucked up. And I am not at all pleased.
6. Gum crackers. I inherited this one from my mother who also cannot abide the sound of someone chewing gum. Why on God's green earth would you chew gum with your mouth open? Do you chew your food with your mouth open too? Hearing it is 10 times worse than seeing it, and seeing it is pretty damn gross. Want to know the difference between your average teenager chewing their gum and a cow chewing its cud? The cow's eyes let you know the lights are on and somebody is home.
7. The full dishwasher. The Husband is awesome, wonderful, I'm so lucky to have him. Blah, blah, blah. Love him, but if I go into the kitchen and find that he has loaded the dishwasher to a point where you couldn't add another dish with a fucking shoe horn... and then doesn't turn it on... I might have to file for divorce. I'm certain that's an irreconcilable difference.
8. Spitters. No, not that kind. I mean people who spit on public streets. I once had a guy hork a loogie as I was passing by. Did I mention I was wearing sandals? Yeah, ew. Then the douche had the audacity to tell me it wasn't a big deal as I looked at him in horror. I assured him it was and wiped my foot on his pants. In front of his date, who had now joined him on the sidewalk. Hope he didn't stiff the waitress on the tip and talk about an ex because I'm pretty sure spitting on a passerby would be the third strike that sent him to relax with his thoughts at home. Alone.

What about you? What gets you the most stabby?

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #35 word prompt: Pet Peeves. For more info about GBE,  click here.  

The one where she talks about holes

Tales from long ago ago are fascinating. I studied a lot of history in school and I have stood at the base of the pyramids of Giza, looking up in awe at what those who came before us were capable of doing. George Santayana said "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." That's been proven true time and time again, but I'm not going to talk about the history of the world today. I'm going to talk about (OK, fine purists, I'll write about it) my own history, and the boys I've loved before.

I was 31 when I met The Husband. This may come as a shock to some of you, but... I wore a white dress for my wedding because of a keen sense of irony. Before The Husband there was a long string of unsuitable candidates competing for my DNA, often referred to as a long line of assholes. To be sure, there were some genuine assholes in the bunch. Like the one who, when I called him with the news that my beloved grandfather died, replied with "I guess we're not going to the movies on Saturday, eh?" No, he wasn't kidding. He was also the one who stood me up on New Years Eve a few months later. But even that asshole taught me something about myself, what I was and wasn't willing to tolerate, and what I wanted in a partner.

Sometimes the things you regret the most become some of the experiences you're most grateful for later. All the decisions I have made, the roads less travelled I have taken, mistakes made and learning experiences... um, experienced, shape my judgment today. I am the cumulative result of my history. History made me understand that anyone I was spending time with was likely to be human, with all the failings of the condition. We do things that annoy, hurt and frustrate, but we also do things that bring great joy. And I wouldn't have known what to look for in someone I could share my life with had it not been for some of the assholes.

I guess some gratitude is due, but I wouldn't recommend that any of the boys I've loved before hold their breath waiting for their thank you card...

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #34 word prompt: History. For more info about GBE,  click here.  

The one where she talks about working for the weekend

While life is sometimes pretty hectic, I have no regrets about choosing to work outside the home. Sure, it's not for everybody, and that's OK. There's a lid for every pot. I might have felt differently were it not for Canada's generous paternal leave policies which allowed me to stay at home for the first year. But I always knew I was going back to full time employment.

I like what I do, and most of the time I think I'm pretty good at it. Though, since the arrival of The Parasite, work is NOT my life - it's how I pay for it. I used to really identify with being a career woman. I kept my maiden name when I got married because I didn't want to reestablish myself after working so hard to build a network. A good reputation is a hard won prize for anyone out there in the working world.

And then my outlook changed completely with nine pounds of squawking baby. Now I work for the weekends when I can spend some extra time lolling around in bed with my people. I live for Saturday because I can spend all day TOMORROW with her too! It sounds so cheesy, I know, but she really does make it all worthwhile. I'm also extremely territorial about my family vacation time. That's when we take a break from the crazy and connect with each other, reminding ourselves of what all this fuss is about.

Some day, in the distant future when my kid(s) is(are) older, I may try to get back on the aggressive career track. I'll still have a good decade left in me where I can be worked to the bone to plump up my retirement savings that will be drained by putting kid(s) though school. But for now I consider any day I get home in time to sneak in a trip to the park before dinner a good day. I go to work every day and do a good job, expecting no more than a fair day's pay for a fair day's work. And I don't think there is anything wrong with that.

Have you had a watershed moment in your career? I'd love to hear about it.


This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #33 word prompt: Work. For more info about GBE,  click here. 

The one where she gives free writing a try

15 minutes of whatever comes to mind for me? Man, that could be dangerous! I presume that's supposed to mean no filter, but I just don't think the world is ready for me with no filter.

Christmas Day is over, but it will carry on for at least three more days as we finish off the holiday visits. We're not a religious household, so I'm not quite sure about the messaging here for The Parasite. Christmas means you show up at a bunch of different people's houses and get presents! That can't be right... I'm sure I'll come up with something more clever by the time she gets around to asking the question. Maybe she won't? Kids are good at just rolling with things. Especially when presents are involved.

In a couple of weeks I'm going on my first Girls' Weekend away since I became a mom. No husbands, no kids, just some fun in the sun. I'm looking forward to it, but I'm also dreading being so far away from my baby. I know she's nearly three, but she'll always be MY baby. It'll be a great bonding experience for her and for The Husband. She's been on a real "Mommy do it" kick for the last few weeks and it's getting impractical. For example, last weekend I was upstairs folding laundry, The Husband was in the kitchen making breakfast. She came UPSTAIRS to ask me to get her a drink. From the kitchen. *sigh* These phases are normal and it will be Daddy's turn soon enough, but I'm kind of hoping a few days on their own will hurry things along a little.

Wow. Five minutes to go. Who knew a time period so short could seem so long? Of course, we're up for the day so that 15 minutes has actually been broken up into several chunks of a few minutes each, but I have been keeping track of how long I have been going at each interval. Maybe that's cheating? I dunno. I can't remember the last time I had 15 uninterrupted minutes, but I imagine it was before April 2009. I may sound like I'm complaining about it, but I'm really not. Watching this kid crouch down like a jaguar along with Dora is worth all the interruptions in the world.

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #32 - 15 Minute Free Write.  For more info about GBE,  click here. 

The one where she talks about secrets and lies

My family was recently rocked by a secret that my grandmother took to her grave. I won't go into details publicly because God knows enough people are already licking wounds, but suffice it to say there is hurt, confusion and maybe a little bit of anger. At some point, a secret becomes a lie. I don't know exactly when that invisible line is crossed, but keeping a big secret inevitably requires a series of half-truths and lies of omission, just laying in wait for someone to slip up.

When you learn the people you love and trust the most have lied to you, you're left with hurt over whatever the lie was about AND feelings of betrayal. It adds insult to injury. I'm not talking about keeping someone's birthday surprise a secret, I mean BFDs. Big secrets and the lies they eventually become.

I choose to live out loud, even when it's hard because of my hatred of those secrets that become lies. I choose to tell my daughter that her great-grandmother died rather than telling her she went to sleep or she's gone away and will see her another day. Yes, it's probably more difficult than lying, but only in the short term. And who said being the grown up was supposed to be easy, anyway?

The next time you're faced with decision, tell a lie because it's easy or tell the truth even though it's hard, pick truth. It's always the better choice in the long run.

This post is written as part of GBE2 - Week #29 word prompt: Truth. For more info about GBE,  click here.