Monthly Archives: July 2016

Life With Bully

I follow George Takei on Facebook and I read his posts pretty much daily. I don’t care if he has a team of assistants who post for him or not, I generally find about 50% of what he posts interesting.

Today he shared a Whisper post (through Buzzfeed) about the parents of bullied children. Like I said, I always read the posts from his page – but furthermore, I always go to the comments to see what the real people are saying.

See the Buzzfeed post/Whispers here.

Some of them have such heart wrenching stories.

I can’t even begin to imagine being the parent of a child who is being bullied for things that are out of their control – like their child having glasses, or being short or having a scar etc.

When we become parents we immediately and fiercely love our offspring and to see them hurting or struggling with something like bullying can be so infuriating and can make you question so many things.

Like, “why can’t others see how awesome my child is?”

And it can be equally as sad to know that your child’s once pure and carefree heart is now betrodden with thoughts of self-doubt and worry of what the next day brings. It can be so heartbreaking to see their innocence get stripped from them unwillingly. It takes away a bit of their spirit and turns it into dark matter.

The confusing part of this is that we often equate The Bully as being some sort of delinquent or dehumanized oppressor.

This idea is false.

I can almost guarantee that the majority of the time The Bully is just as loved as the victim.

As much as I can’t imagine being the parents of a bullied child, I also think about being that parent who discovers that their child is being nasty towards someone else. The shame that would course through my body would be apparent. None of us want our children to be the bad guy in stories or the Regina George’s in school.

We want our children to be good people.

We want others to look at our kids and think, “Wow, they did a great job raising these remarkable young humans.”

But, they aren’t going to come by this goodness magically.

I know there are some children who have had the shitty end of the stick and their bullying ways come from a history of abuse and learned behavior. It is common for anger and rage to be a coping mechanism and that is very unfortunate. Not only are these kids a victim, but they continue to victimize and try to push the pain onto someone else. I hope that in today’s world these children are given more of a chance than they are discarded and seen as a lost cause.

I know elementary and Pre-K bullying can be all kinds of rough. How do you deal with parents who won’t acknowledge the problem (or even care) and how do you communicate with the children effectively enough to put an end to it?

I can’t give any insight into that situation because I have never encountered it. I have dealt with a bit of middle school drama, but nothing major. My oldest girl has had things run pretty smoothly for her. She’s chill, pretty level-headed and deals with any escalating drama in the most diplomatic of ways. Pretty awesome for an almost 14 year-old. I can only hope my youngest’s school days turn out so smoothly.


I do remember my own first week of grade 7 – I had an older girl yell at my from across the yard that she didn’t like me because I looked like someone else she didn’t like. It made me nervous. She probably gave me a few cold stares in the hallway and a couple of shoulder bumps, but nothing to the extent that happens with incessant bullying.

This happened a couple of times over the span of my middle school and high school life. I had another girl rag on me pretty hard (unwarranted as I barely knew her) when I became pregnant in grade 12. But, by then I didn’t give a shit what people said about me. If it wasn’t physically hurting me, I didn’t care.

If anything else happened to me, it wasn’t significant enough to be emblazoned in my memory bank.

As an adult I have learned that bullies – or Assholes, as adult bullies are called – usually always back down when they realize their target is a bit harder to hit than they thought. Whenever I have fought back or showed by bullies up or given them back some of their own medicine, they almost always back down.

I know this doesn’t always work with child bullies because The Bully often doesn’t give up so easily. It can be kind of fun for them to have a bit of a challenge. That’s why kids think it is such a time to play the same level in a video game over and over and over. They do it until they think they win.

Then again, I know have also deterred my bullies/assholes by killing them with kindness. It doesn’t always work, but sometimes it is so satisfying to see the realization come over someone’s face that the road they take is a lot lower than they think – and it is a shock to their system to realize they get zero respect for doing it.

The childhood bully won’t always walk away from a situation like that and sometimes the child victim is not even going to try to sway them by being nice.

Do you want to know why this happens?


…It is because we are all different and we handle different situations in different ways. EVEN AS CHILDREN.




Can get a completely different response from different people/bullies/victims because we all think, act and react in different ways.

There is no concrete solution to end bullying.

Each bullying situation is completely and entirely unique. So, when I see blanket statements like, “The victim just needs to stand up for themselves!” or, “Just ignore it.” I get a bit enraged.

It isn’t just a matter of teaching our kids to be more confident, how to defend themselves, how to read people, or to just be good.

We need to teach them ALL OF THOSE THINGS and more.

We also need to listen. We need to listen to them with EVERYTHING. Our ears and our eyes are great observers, but our hearts tell us when things are a little off. We need to actually hear our kids when they tell us something isn’t right. We need to admit and be open-minded when we realize our child is a victim or even the one victimizing. I know it can be really hard to realize your child has hard time coping with a terrible situation, or maybe they are The Bully, but it isn’t going to change them or a damn thing about the situation just because you know about it. We need to take action.

We have to talk to our kids. Show them what empathy is. Teach them about self-respect and kindness and what it feels like to take the high road.

Let other people help your kids, too. Not every one of us has the answers. Someone else might have a better idea or a clearer view of the situation. Just because you had a child doesn’t mean you are an All-Seeing and All-Knowing Deity. Sometimes we just need some damn help helping our own kids. On the flip, if we see a kid that isn’t getting that help, the right talk or learning experience, we shouldn’t be hesitant to step up.

Dog-fuck civilization when it thinks it doesn’t take a village to raise a child.


Love Yourself (and yo’ kids),




See You on the Other Side

Do you remember us?

We used to be fun, spontaneous and down right self-absorbed. It was magnificent.

Back when we had our childless weekends together, when my oldest daughter would stay at her Dad’s, when we would stay up all night with friends, spend the day in our jammies and make grueling decisions like, “do we go to the grocery store for snacks, or do we just hit the drive-through?” Since one of those options included putting on bottoms other than pajama pants, we would usually go for the latter. 

We had no one to tell us how to live and we did what we wanted. Even our bodies were happily put through the abuse they endured – sleepless nights, too much alcohol, long trips on the four-wheeler, sunburns and bed aches.



Fast Forward to present-day and the table has been flipped upside down.

We no longer get to choose how long we sleep, or when it happens – thanks to a toddler who still does not sleep through the night. Our activity options are also limited. Most of our plans have to include our kids, otherwise they just aren’t going to work for us.

Really, having a childfree night would be nice, but the thought of putting ourselves through an all-nighter on purpose sounds like mere fucking torture. Sleep is so important to us now, but instead of sleeping all day, we try to make sure we get the right kind of sleep at the right time – you know, like at night.

This stage of our lives can be lonely and is really hard.

We are raising babies and teenagers, yet trying to work enough to ensure our future.

It is a grindstone – and even when the weekend comes along, there isn’t enough time in two days to make up for the time missed during the week.

As for friends – OUR FRIENDS –

Since there is barely enough time for my husband and I to be with each other, and also take care of ourselves and our children, and managing our property or what-have-its – my DEAR FRIENDS…

…there is barely enough time for you.

When I do make time specifically for an evening out with friends or an event, it is calculated to the max.

Do I need a sitter? Do I need someone to watch the dog? Am I going to need to take a cab home? If I need a cab, how will we manage to get my car in the morning? If the toddler goes to a sitter, how many snacks do I pack? Do I actually have to wear real clothes or will my yoga pants suffice?

Long gone are the days of trying to decide between the grocery store and drive-throughs. Our priorities are in a vastly different order than they once were and are balanced very delicately.

It only takes one raucous and sleep deprived night to ruin an entire week in this house.

I totally understand that it can be frustrating to not see someone you once had friend-affair with. We were together a lot – almost inseparable at times.

But, do you really want to see us now? Do you want to chill with tired, worn out us?

We promise that we love you. If we didn’t love you, we wouldn’t have so much respect for you to realize that we don’t see you quite enough. We honestly wish we had more time for you all – and we are sorry that this has happened.

But, here is the bright side:

Somehow this will all get easier.

We will figure out how to balance our lives a little better.

Our children won’t be quite so schedule dependent and maybe we will get to sleep easier and with that our days will come easier too.

We will never forget our fun ass times we had together. We won’t forget the memories we made and the histories we have developed with our Dearest Friends.

So when that time comes –

Don’t forget us.

We will see you on the other side.


Love Yourself,



How I Inadvertently Bought a Body Modification Device

Read title.
Say, “What?”
Uh huh, you read that right.
I had a wedding coming up and knew I would be wearing a bit of a form fitting dress.
I like Spanx, OK?
When I have some event to go to, or want to tuck in the little jiggly bits, I wear Spanx.
There is no shame in that…ok, there is a little bit of shame, but it is warranted.
After you have a couple of children, something’s gotta give, and it is usually the skin’s elasticity.
Hence, Spanx.
So, I was in need of a new pair of Spanx or the like and lo’ and behold, there on my facebook timeline was an ad for what looked like some sort of shapewear.
They were $9.99.
I measured myself and was a bit disappointed that I had to get the largest size they had available, but I figured it was probably a Chinese company and that is pretty normal for me.
I am not a size 2, after all.
I also figured even if it wasn’t as good as Spanx, I only paid $10 for it.
Deal was done.
A few weeks later I forgot I even bought it. Online shopping surprises are the best!
I was going about my day and went for my mail run and saw a package!
I opened the packet and pulled out this:
It looked legit.
I tried it on and it held in my jiggles, and it even had some boning that promised to maintain its shape throughout my inevitable dancing the evening of the wedding.
Or maybe I looked a bit like an overstuffed sausage…whatever.
Then I noticed it came with a note that said it was for “waist training.”
It came with no directions or really any indications that it was anything more than a shapewear you use occasionally.
I decided to check out waist-training on the internet.
I thought it would be some idea of wearing the shapewear while you work out to help with core stability or something.
It is a little more fucked up than that.
Waist training is using corsets to cinch in the midriff and essentially compact the organs so you appear to have a smaller waist.
The pictures online were remarkable. I am not sure how else to put it.
They were remarkably weird, extreme, exaggerated and Kardashian.
Fucking obviously THEY had to come in here somewhere. Effin’ Kardashians.
I was a little shocked that this is a thing.
I don’t think the one I bought is meant to do the things some of the pictures on the internet suggested.
Google: “Extreme waist training”
What the mother eff is that about?
No thanks.
If this is what they want, fine. You want to look like a woman nearly cut in half, fine.
Do you want to prance around with your organs shifted so it looks like you have an hour glass figure? Fine.
You have to deal with the effects of the potential damage it creates. That’s your deal, not mine.
Man I was surprised at the amount of people into this kind of thing.
All I wanted was a little jiggle help.
I just wanted to tuck in some bits and wear a pretty dress and feel like I could glide across the dance floor without working about my jiggly-wigglies.
So, I will tell you, I did end up wearing the waist trainer to the wedding.
I had no time to go buy new Spanx, so it was done.
I could have worn my old Spanx, but the hole I made in the crotch from doing the splits at my other friend’s wedding had begun to show even more wear.
So there I was, waist training it up – I even ate a meal with this buggar on.
However, I took it off once the dancing began because it interfered with my Tootsie Roll moves.
And wouldn’t you know it, not one person fucking cared that I had a little jiggle action.
Not one.
My waist trainer shamelessly sits on my dresser with half of the parts of my now-unused breast pump.
…Toddler likes to use the cones to the breast pump as mini megaphones.
Love Yourself,


Why We Gotta Be So Assholish?

I think I am naturally quite an asshole.
I work really hard at not being one.
There was a time I didn’t care and would tear a strip off someone or totally confront someone over petty matters and basically be an all around dick – but I realized how exhausting and self destructive it was.
I blame it on being a spoiled youngin’ raised in a healthy home full of sarcasm, general pickiness and the ever-so-often, “Mum and Dad should have told you that you were adopted.”
Note: Not adopted.
Basically, I come from a long line of assholes.
Just kidding – I love my family… most days.
But, seriously now, I truly feel like the world is currently comprised of a lot of people who think being a jerk is the thing to do.
After all, being a jerk and being known as The Jerk, can kind of give you free reign to become more and more terrible without any consequences, amirite?
The Kicker is: Once you have The Jerk label, it is a tough one to shake.
I am sure there are plenty of people who regard me in this light.
It isn’t really anyone that matters in my life currently, but what if the tides changed and someday I find myself wanting to get a job with someone who thought I was an asshole?
Or in a far off place I actually made friends with someone, but then their opinion of me got skewed by someone who knew The Jerk me? There goes another BFF… again.
I think well all have memories of that one person in our lives who treated us like crap – and maybe treated everyone else like crap too – and was The Jerk from the get go.
These instances and that label could have happened when we were children, yet in our minds that dude is still The Jerk.
Who gives a shit that they donate a portion of their paycheck to charity and is a great mentor to our local youth?
Also, as long as someone else is The Jerk, the label does not fall onto anyone else.
Yeah, that’s right. You may even get away with being a bit sly and wankerish every now and then, because you know you will never live up to the expectations of The Jerk – especially if The Jerk’s within your tight social circle.
As for myself, you can ask my husband and he will flat out tell you that I am not a sweet little wifey who is so darling and nice.
Nope. I am still a little bit assholish sometimes.
We don’t fight much, but I am so very much pig headed and stubborn that I declare I win all the arguments.
If I do not win all the arguments, another argument will ensue so I even up the tally.
I am also the worst opponent in a board game ever…
…and cards. I am kind of a dick when I play cards.
Winning. I win everything.
Win or die.
But, I have #GOALS you guys.
Working on myself comes in so many forms.
I am physically trying to be better, mentally trying to be better and outwardly just trying to be better as well.
I know we all think we are good guys – even The Jerk can sometimes think they are doing nothing wrong – and it takes a lot of self-evaluation to see that a personality trait needs to change.
It also takes mental strength to purposefully interact with people in a different way than you have been used to for so long.
 – Gone are the days when I use someone’s flaws to get a laugh from someone else.
I haven’t done that in a really long time and I always found it to be the most hurtful when it happened to me. (Also, the days of laughing at those jokes coming from someone else are gone as well.)
 – Gone are the days when I judged someone solely on how they looked. I am a pretty clear fucking example of “Don’t Judge a Book By Its Cover” myself. I can expand this further by not judging them on what their socio-economic status is. You don’t have to have a yacht to be my bud – although that would be pretty sweet.
– Gone are the days of not talking to someone because I thought our meeting was irrelevant or insignificant. Saying “Hello” to the bridge toll guys or asking a cashier how their day is going is not going to fucking hurt. Although, as a stay at home mom, I will yak some of their ears off. GIVE ME ADULT INTERACTION!
– Gone are the days of worrying about how other people live and caring about their counterpart gossiping hens and the twisted words they weave. Someone out there may be talking about me at this very moment. Trust me, I am just trying to live life how I want and how I think will suit me and my family best – so is everyone else – even if you don’t always agree with the choices they make.
Those are just a small fraction of the things that I feel like have changed for me.
In my journey to be a better person I can often come across as intense and a bit scattered.
It is all because I want to relate to everyone.
I want to listen. No one else seems to be listening, so someone has to genuinely do it.
I also want to care about some people other than myself and my immediate family.
So, I guess this means something.
Buh-bye, Jerk Face.
So long, Asshole.
Hello, Mrs. IamWorkingOnIt.
Love Yourself,
PS) I still CRUSH at Monopoly. Crib is a whole-otha-level of bitchassiness.



I touched briefly on my last post about losing 40-50 pounds in the past.
(I say 40-50 because towards the end of my weightloss and before I got pregnant, I didn’t weigh myself anymore.)
After pregnancy, being diagnosed with Hashimotos (hypothyroidism caused by antibodies attacking the thyroid gland) and it taking almost two years for me to start feeling better – I want to get back to where I was.
So, what happens when you start feeling better on the inside, but your outside doesn’t reflect it?
It causes me major self-image issues, that’s what.
I am feeling stronger now and ready to take on physical challenges again. I feel like a badass whenever I am at bootcamp or running and realize I am accomplishing feats I have never done before or at least haven’t in a very long time.
I even have days or weeks where I feel like my squishy bits are looking a bit less squishy and I can feel some sort of definition taking place.
Alas, then I see a picture of myself and I feel so defeated.
I know it is such a struggle, for women especially, to accept the way we look.
We avoid taking pictures altogether, or we only allow certain angles, or we filter and touch up the pictures until they look the way we want.
Sometimes we avoid social situations altogether because we are uncomfortable with how we look.
We think we are being judged – when in reality we are our own worst critic – for the most part.
I truly believe that everyone else is so focused on themselves to judge as harshly as we judge ourselves.
On the flip side, it can be such a bitch to be feeling good and have this idea of what you look like, and then see yourself in an unflattering picture – or when you try to get into that outfit that you thought was your size and you realize it is too small.
This past weekend I felt pretty amazing.
Then my darling teenage daughter snapped a pretty unflattering picture of me.

I was posing with the fish I caught.
Damn straight – I caught us some dinner food.
But, is it a pretty picture?
Honestly, I thought I looked so much better than that when I was posing for it, so to see the picture myself it kind of shocked me.
I had my chest and belly puffed out and was mid laugh – aka, my other chin was in full view.
Yup. I am a little fluffier than I want to be. I don’t feel like I am, but pictures don’t lie.
What this picture doesn’t show is that I have been battling through every step I take for the past two fucking years.
Two years ago, when waking up with a headache was the norm.
Two years ago, when making it to lunch time without a nap was considered a successful day of battling this bullshit disease.
Two years ago when trying to focus enough to write a paragraph was hard enough – let alone a whole blog post.
Two years ago when I felt like I was so lost and was never going to be found again.
Two years is a long time, yet a short time all in the same little ball.
I have had some success with taking supplements that aid thyroid function and getting copious amounts of bloodwork done to make sure my levels are stabilized.
But, I am not done yet.
I feel like I am on the right track to feeling better, but I am taking the long route.
The first time I lost a significant amount of weight, it was hard.
It was downright mother-effin’ annoying at times.
I had to find new ways to enjoy exercise and how to eat differently and apply it
Now I have to learn how to do things different all over again.
Hashimotos is an autoimmume disease as well as a glandular and hormonal ailment.
It fucks up everything in your body.
My metabolism is out of whack, my hormones are out of whack, my digestion is out of whack.
This whole body is out of whack!
I have to relearn what my body can and can not have put into it and I have to find the time to manage my household, children and working out.
What hasn’t changed is that I know I can.
It can be done.
With perseverance, the willingness to learn and some hard work, I can do this!
This isn’t a race and there isn’t anyone giving me an ultimatum or telling me to get my shit together… except myself.
In the meantime, I have to love myself right now.
Right now – exactly how I am at this exact moment – I need to remind myself that I am O-Fucking-K.
Even if nothing changes on the outside, I am still allowed to be happy with who I am.
Love Yourself, even if you are fluffier than you want to be.
PS) For some real motivation, I am posting my very own (old) before and after.
It seems like so long ago now, but I am happy that 35lbs makes such a difference. It gives me a bit more hope.


When Bad Things Happen to Good Mugs

I had great intentions.
I was almost in dreamland last night when I realized I had forgotten to put the wet laundry into the dryer. Sometimes if it stays overnight in the washer, it can smell musty, so I rushed downstairs – miraculously avoiding the sleeping dog on the floor by my bed and switched the clothes over to the dryer.
Mission accomplished, right?
Nope. I thought I would be a baller and tidy up the recroom a bit.
Secretly, I just wanted to bring the mug I had been using upstairs so I could use it for coffee or tea in the morning.
My favourite mug, I might add.
It was my favourite for a few reasons.
It was huge and pretty.
It was also thick and wide brimmed.
It was also free. I won it at a wedding shower last year.
Just look at ‘er:
 PicMonkey Photo
She is beautiful.
I am pretty sure she’ll fit a good 8 oz and that makes her all the more glorious.
I ran with Mug upstairs and noticed the counter had a dirty butter knife on it and decided to put that in the dishwasher as well.
Unsurprisingly, in my midnight stupor, I swiped the butter knife onto the floor with one hand, holding Mug in the other.
With a clang, the knife flew off the counter and onto the ceramic tile.
Not thinking, I let go of Mug.
Ceramic tile be damned.
She’s even beautiful while she sleeps eternally.
I don’t know where Mug is from.
It could be a dollar store mug, or a fancy mug from the Fancy Mug store.
Either way, her value was not on the amount she cost, or even the liquid gold she held for my consumption.
I just really liked her, dammit.
She was just one thing – ONE THING – that I looked forward to in my morning routine.
Sometimes we sipped and read the news on the deck while the little played in the backyard.
Once or twice she came on our walks to the mailbox – or even on a short car ride.
There was a time when I thought Mug was lost.
Turns out Husband was quite fond of her too – but he was irresponsible and left her in his work truck amongst some dirty tools.
He never used her again.
So there she goes. Ready for the recycling box of broken glass.
She will fit in well with the beautiful mercury glass candle stick Toddler broke just after Christmas.
Did I mention I had good intentions at the time?
I was going to clean her up and we were going to have another day together.
Yeah sure, she was abused and used as much as I wanted, but I never meant to hurt her.
Sometimes it happens when we mean to do good things – at least we think they are good. We have done them all along, even though they are a bit self-serving.
We may have this thing that we love, we almost take for granted, get a little reckless and then it all comes crashing down.
Mug is broken and can not be repaired.
I have done this exact same thing figuratively so many times.
I have had great intentions, lovely things – and I either drop them or throw them away.
Relationships, friendships, bonds of trust and even my own personal virtues.
I have broken many.
All too often they are broken beyond repair.
Of course, we could slap some glue and tape on Mug and she might hold out for a day, or give one last offering – but the damage has been done.
I am sure I will find a replacement somewhere.
Maybe it will be a blue one and we will forget about the accident.
My wine glasses are currently throwing me shade glances from their perch in the curio cabinet.
Fuck them.
Sometimes all they hold are bitter tastes and headaches.
They have their place, but it is not today.
Today –
I am Mug.
Love Yourself and Love the Things You Love Because You Can,


One Way to Be Happy

NOTE: This post is written in a rush, but I am so elated that it can not wait until tomorrow.
My toddler is begging me to go outside and go swimming or to the playground right not so let’s hammer this one out. Fast fingers please.
Shit just got real.
I just posted this on our local community centre facebook page:

I actually left my television production job twice.
My husband went to work out west for a few months and I quit my job in 2011 and became a Zumba Fitness instructor.
I had been working on myself for over a year at that point and had lost about 40 pounds and just wanted to bring some fun fitness to people in my area.
It was awesome.
I was teaching six classes per week – including a set of back to back classes.
This went on for over a year and I met so many amazing people and networked with so many awesome instructors in my area – it was honestly one of the most rewarding and fun times in my life.
I just didn’t realize that it is also easy to burn out when you are going at it so hard.
I fell out of love with the Zumba brand at around the same time that I started teaching other varieties of classes.
I had decided to get my Canfitpro certification and to really make a go of being a professional instructor and I taught some pretty badass classes.
I also got to work with some awesome and inspirational people.
It was also exactly what I needed for myself.
Then my husband came home from the oil fields and we decided we needed to actually have a steady income.
(With teaching fitness classes, the income can be sporadic. I mean… some months I paid for my people to come to class and other months I felt like I was legit money making.)
So, that’s when I went back to the exact same job in television production that I had previously.
Literally I took over the position from the person who had taken it from me.
I wasn’t there long before I got pregnant and the rest is history.
Or is it?
During my pregnancy I developed hypothyroidism and I had no idea what havoc it would send my body into.
I had the worst symptoms:
Poor concentration
Diminished motor skills
Hair, skin and nail dryness (I literally had scales on my forehead around my scalp)
Hair loss
Weight gain
Signs of depression and anxiety
I literally could make this list pages and pages long.
I have been through so many rounds of bloodwork that I think I have permanent needle hole in my arm.
It took almost two years for my bloodwork and thyroid levels to even out.
I started taking some natural remedies as well – vitamins and supplements – and I finally started to feel a bit like myself around the same time we moved into our new home.
I could progressively feel myself feeling better and better – so I started going to some fitness classes being offered at the hall near my house.
These were the most difficult classes of my life.
The first few weeks I was still battling fatigue and brain fog, because even though I was feeling better, not every day is 100%.
I can still have my off days even now.
But I could progressively feel myself getting stronger and stronger.
For about seven months I went to these classes twice per week that made me feel like I could do anything and it made me feel like I
could beat this thing inside of me that made me feel like crap.
At the end of the season our group was told the instructor was moving.
We were all devastated because this had become a little social gathering as well.
There was no way we could let these classes go.
Our community needed something like this.
What if there was someone out there just like me who’s only hope was to come to classes like this and finally feel strong again?
So, I stepped up.
Now in the excitement of it all, I am also a little nervous.
I have to rewrite my certification exam and prove myself all over again.
But, man I am so game for this.
It is exactly what I need, again.
Love Yourself,

A Broken Tailight

A Broken Tail Light.
I wasn’t taught to be racist.
I lived with people who look like me,
and People of Colour lived someplace else with their own.
We were separate and life was fine –
– Fine for the people that look like me.
Truly, I was taught to ignore the division.
I wasn’t taught to be racist,
but I learned that we are different.
Though, it isn’t just the colour of our skin that differentiates us.
It is the opportunities given – that’s what really separates us.
The people who look like me live freely and unafraid.
Truly, I was taught not to think about my privilege.
I wasn’t taught to be racist,
but racism doesn’t mean toting guns and waiting to attack.
It is the tense smile you wear as you clutch your purse walking past a man on the street –
knowing his children will not get the same chances as your own.
Racism can be ignorance painted with assumptions.
Truly, I was taught to be naive.
I wasn’t taught to be racist,
and it is possible so many of us aren’t.
Even though a man can be killed –
without hesitation,
in front of his child, and beside his lover –
because separation has made him a target.
Truly, this is a disgrace.
I wasn’t taught to be racist,
was I?
I still live with people who look like me and we are fine.
Life is fine for us.
We live freely and unafraid,
until we see what we have done.
Truly, I am ashamed.




I often wonder if my choice to be a stay at home mom was a mistake.

There is no way of knowing, so I continue doing what I do and hope that somehow something clicks.

I know I am a complainer – it is in my nature – and I shouldn’t be complaining about the opportunity to nurture my children and watch them grow.

I didn’t get the chance to experience every little thing that my oldest accomplished. The big milestones are blurry and they were often described in detail to me instead of me witnessing them myself.

This time around I get to see everything and I am grateful for the most part.

I am a spoiled, spoiled woman.

I worked in television production for a decade.

I have been gone from my job for about 10 months now.

I am considered out of commission. I am stale and each day that passes my professional worth deteriorates.

It is difficult to come to that realization sometimes because I went to school for this.

I PAID money to have a job that was fulfilling, well-paying and with great benefits and I decided to throw it away.

Don’t get me wrong, my job didn’t exactly make me happy and it was not creative in the least.

Also, my first year or so was accompanied by so much stress and actual tears because I felt I was not cut out for it.

Now I worry I am not cut out for THIS.


On the flipside, sometimes I feel like I am exactly where I need to be.

My husband and I are happier than ever.

We have all of our needs and a lot of our wants.

We don’t jump on a plane three times a year and go to some faraway place like the fancy folk, but we are happy.

I do absolutely find it humbling and a bit annoying to have to confer with my husband every time I want to spend some money on something that isn’t a household staple.

Generally he doesn’t have issue with me even wanting to be a bit spendy, but it doesn’t diminish my guilt when I feel like I am not really contributing to our finances.

So, once in a while, I will take a peek at the jobs available in my area and part of me laughs and another part of me dies a little inside that people are expected to live on wages that are below the national poverty level. AND some of these jobs require a post-secondary education. Unbelievable.

Then I come to the conclusion  that my time is worth so much more than anyone can pay.

There are no dollar values on seeing your child light up when they learn something new.

So, should I just shut up now?

You all know I am not going to shut up.

I have been dreaming that if I find that perfect role for me that includes a balance between my home life and work, has me in a position to help others and also helps me grow, gives me the opportunity to interact with adults on a professional and intellectual level.

I am working on something that gives me that balance and I will probably be freaking out about it on here soon enough. (I will keep you in the loop.)

But, for now I need to feed the kids, clean the house and be a Home Boss.

It’s my job.

Love Yourself,


Feeling a Low Pressure System

Is it still OK to have an off day?
You don’t see too many people posting on social media that they are having a shit day.
Not really – and even if someone does voice their dismay online, the general consensus is that they are a whiner, they need to suck it up and shut up while they are at it.
Just keep scrolling, yes?
Social media is part of my daily life.
I don’t see people every day, so the opportunity to feel like I am connecting to the outside world is one that I embrace.
The funny thing about social media (Facebook, Twitter, Instagram etc. in case you just discovered the internet today) is that it has the ability to make us very anti-social.
It is a Catch 22, really.
I use social media to connect and it gives me small pockets of connected-ness, but I am kidding myself if I think it compares to the real thing.
My social media is filtered and often-times fake.
My pictures (and pictures… and pictures… +) that I post of my kids, family, life are almost always the edited version of what happens in our day.
However, real life isn’t filtered, it isn’t edited and people see the bad angles.
Those bad angles, though- they make us real.
Real human beings with real lives and real errrrythangs.
None of us can walk around with a springtime filter pretending we were born that way.
People can see ugliness, and I don’t just mean when we haven’t put our mascara on, I mean the deep down ugliness that lives in the pit of our bellies.
We all get ugly sometimes.
I think the best part of having close REAL relationships is the fact that you can show your ugliness to someone.
There’s less of the surface falsities and more of the deep down nitty gritty.
It makes us feel more human and less like robots when we can share our darkness with someone we trust and care for.
If they see that ugliness and they remain by your side, they are going to be fine with you having an off day once in a while.
Those off days are what make us all relatable.
If we all lived like we do on social media, none of us would be able to stand each other in real life.
No one on the outside gives a rat’s ass if your mac n cheese looks perfect if it tastes like poo-poo-ka-ka.
We just have to remember that sometimes our off days are someone else’s on days.
Keep that in mind…always, but don’t let it deter you from having an off day once in a while.
This post isn’t about social media – it was a way to get to the message that in our imperfections and crappy days, we are still OK.
We are all just living – trying to make it by taking whatever the day has in store for us, even if that day includes a low pressure system that makes us feel a little big ugly.
Love Yourself,