Almonds Don't Have Boobs, Mom.

I'm the mom who gladly pulls up to the McDonald's window, grabs that happy meal with an equally happy smile because my kid will be fed and I didn't have to leave my car. Tada! Mommy has dinner! Oh, and a toy! Mommy's awesome! Mainly because I absolutely hate cooking which is probably the reason I'm also a terrible cook.

Well, my world came crashing down recently when I made a choice to delve deeper into what has been causing P's recurrent cough of 5 flipping years. An unofficial diagnosis of 'It's probably asthma', from my doctor wasn't good enough, and that's all they were offering me.

My 12 year old brother gets extreme migraines and my mother recently took him to a Naturopath to see what options they had. They suggested what is basically a super allergy test. You won't die from consuming foods, but you may have a sensitivity which can affect your mood, sleep and overall health.  With hope for a cough-less future, I booked an appointment.

I knew this wouldn't be easy, and to be honest, it turned out to be a lot of things I could have guessed were an issue. Dairy is a cough's worst nightmare so it went out the window. P's Aunt is deathly allergic to peanuts and P showed a sensitivity, so we will now buy Wow Butter. Corn; OK, so no popcorn, cornstarch, corn flour & corn syrup. Sulfites... Now I'm back in 12th grade Chemistry. Egg whites?! See ya later, cake! Food colourants!? Oh dear... I'd already packed her lunch, which she ate on the drive home while saying a tearful goodbye to her Fruit Roll Up. Once you cry to a Fruit Roll Up, I think you've hit 5 year old rock bottom. 

Dairy was simple to remove. "Honey, you know goats? They make milk too. Plus, there's almond milk." Her response: "Almonds don't have boobs, Mom." Goat milk it will be then, kid. I've also been banned from saying the word 'goatgurt'. 

Corn's literally in everything. Those kernels got together on that cob and were like "Hey Jim, let's be delicious, gluten free, and extremely versatile!", "Yeah Bob, that's a great idea!" Fuck you Jim and Bob. I've been holding off going to the movies until it's winter so I can shove P's coat full of approved snacks to sneak in.

I'm not commenting on the egg situation. I have PTSD after a failed egg-less waffle attempt which I can no longer talk about without wine and/or Valium.

I honestly thought the sulfite issue would be more of a pain in the ass, but apparently I don't let her eat as much additive filled shit-food as I initially anticipated.

Long story short, I know it's a good thing, but I feel like the worlds worst mom. When you're at the grocery store and you gladly declare that you're too broke to buy that Kinder Egg rather than remind your kid she can't have milk chocolate it's horrible. It's been a week. I'm almost expecting to find tally marks scratched into the pantry door from P when she stares longingly into it, hoping to find something riddled with Red Dye #40. explaining to a 5 year old that Mommy get's a Reese's Blizzard because Mommy just did leg day and within that hour after is the only time Mommy can eat it just doesn't fly.

That being said, I've turned into this crazy-awesome mom who packs bento box lunches containing home-made Wow Butter balls, heart-shaped sandwiches, and plain goatgurt flavoured with organic honey. I'm that mom now. The one that sends the homemade cupcakes not the 2 bags of Twizzlers on snack day. Soon I'll be making DIY Christmas presents for teachers instead of Tim's cards. HAHAHA! No. It will never get to that point.

This One Time When Life Happened...

This was actually my face remembering what my blog looked like. View image | gettyimages.com

Welp, my blog really fell off the deep end in the last few months. 

What went wrong? Life. Well, not necessarily wrong, it just happened. In the midst of balancing the multiple hats I wear as a mom, (Can I get an Amen?) my baby blog I was nurturing fell to the wayside and died like my Tamagotchi in 4th grade. 

Hopefully now that things have seemed to level out as best they ever will, I can get back to this because sharing the stories of my daughters tantrums & poop to the whole world is of great importance to me. It's literally shit the world needs to know about. I'm punny, I know.

Basically, here's everything else I did to avoid folding laundry in the past 5 months:

New house!

We moved! And did we ever! After a 2 month disaster of boxes, purging and packing we got it done. When you move there are certain expectations. You lift this box, I pay you with pizza and beer. You drink 5 cases of beer, you clean up your vomit. Give and take, ladies and gents!

School's out for the summer

I long for the days when the end of June meant freedom. Now it requires planning of who has what kid which week and where. Topped off by "I owe how much for childcare?!". Being an adult rocks, guys.

Adios, fat pants!

This seriously needed to happen. The days of my metabolism being my friend are behind me. I decided to meet with my trainer and fat loss coach who is amazing to reduce the jiggle. 6 weeks in and I'm down 10 lbs and a pant size. This resulted in compliments from the hubby, jeans that fit like shit and a 1 time loss of bathing suit bottoms in a public pool. 

My kid can't eat anything.

In addition to me removing delicious processed foods crap from my diet, I investigated further into some of P's health concerns. I did this with a Naturopath doctor as my MD wasn't being helpful. Turns out she basically can eat meat and veggies. I've turned into someone i don't know who packs bento lunches with heart shaped sandwiches and makes "allergy-free protein balls" WTF.

Boat life

My husband bought a boat. It sat in our driveway. One bright and sunny evening we took it out on a small, local lake, only to discover there was something wrong with the engine which left us stranded in the middle of said lake. We sold the boat.

Obviously meltdown were had, arguments were won (by me), and toys were chewed by the dog, but that's for another day. I promise I'll stick around this time! 

My Name is Joycelyn and I'm a Vaxxer.

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I'm about to abandon my funny, lighthearted posts to touch on something a bit more controversial. I've read so many opinions, and seen so many posts regarding vaccinations after the recent measles breakout. Now, before you go saying "Oh great, it's another post bashing "vaxxers" or "anti-vaxxers", this is how I see it and I don't mean it to be offensive to anyone. It's my opinion, I'm entitled to it, and It's impossible for me not to say something.

I'm a "vaxxer". Duh, duh, duh. I was vaccinated on time, so was my brother, and so was my daughter. I can't think of any one I know that was not vaccinated. It wasn't even a choice for me. The doctor told me when the appointment was, and I showed up. No questions asked. 

With all of these outbreaks, I see a clear line of division forming between parents that have all of the same goals in mind; Protecting our children. I see vaxxers pointing fingers at anti-vaxxers for the outbreaks. Yes, I have said things about anti-vaxxers. Yes, I have pointed fingers in blame for the outbreak. You know what I realized? I'm scared. I'm terrified that I had my child vaccinated and did everything I could to make sure these horrible, almost eradicated diseases didn't harm my baby. The anti-vaxxers are terrified too. They are scared that the man-made, mercury-ridden material getting injected into their children may be harmful. 

So who's right? Studies show that the chances of complications from vaccines are slim to none. Any studies linking vaccinations to autism have been proven incorrect. I understand that some parents still do not want to take the risk, but think about it. Do you know any kids or adults that fall into the autism spectrum? I do, and they range from high functioning, to developmentally delayed. Even if it's a one in a million chance that your child would become autistic, would that be worse than a much greater chance of them contracting a preventable disease, and possibly dying?

I spent some time researching the ins and outs of these preventable diseases and their complications. Polio can cause long tern muscle weakness and deformities. When you get the Mumps, your salivary glands swell to an unreal size. Painful, testicular swelling can occur, also. Measles is a rash, accompanied by a high fever. My mother had measles THREE TIMES & Rubella, or German Measles, twice. Yes, it can happen. She was 4 when the doctor did a house call and told my Grandmother that my mom most likely wouldn't make it. Not something I want to experience, let alone willingly, put my kids at risk for. I was given the choice to vaccinate my daughter against Varicella, the Chickenpox. This was before it became mandatory in Ontario schools. I'm young enough to remember having these. Do you remember them? They fucking sucked. A chance to have my child avoid this, or have a less severe case? Sign me up! Why are we questioning this?

Have measles been gone so long that we forgot how horrible they are? No, they're not Ebola. (Don't get me going on Ebola...) You will most likely survive. But guess who died from them the most in the past? Children under the age of 5. 2.6 million people per year before 1980. These are the same young children we're trying to protect by not vaccinating them. See where I'm going with this? There are countries that have not decreased or eradicated these diseases the way we have, that see the damage they can cause everyday. These people would give anything to have the health care system that we do, and to have access to vaccinations and treatments. Did we come this far only to regress to the state of a developing country?

Frankly, I'm scared. Even though my child is vaccinated, I send her everyday to a germ infested school, where she mingles with every germ possible, and shares her germs with other kids. Building the immune system, sure, but what happens when it's something worse? My kid, who I've vaccinated against these diseases, shouldn't live in a bubble in fear. Oh but she's vaccinated, she'll be fine. It's the anti-vaxxers who are the only ones at risk. Someone said this the other day and I was infuriated. Vaccinations are not 100%. If I come down with a cold, and come in contact with someone infected with the measles, I'm at a higher risk. Young babies, too young to be vaccinated are at a high risk as they don't have an active immune system. People that have weakened immune systems from cancer and other diseases are the ones being put at risk. 

While I think it's amazing how some parents take the time to make sure there are no harmful chemicals in their laundry soap, use lemons to clean their houses, and will only buy non-GMO veggies, where do you draw the line? Toxins are everywhere. A can of tuna will make you glow in the dark before an MMR shot will. I read somewhere that we are slowly poisoning our kids. Well guess what? How many kids died before these vaccination were available? How many times do you hop into your car to drive 2 blocks, shooting harmful fumes into the atmosphere? They say it's mostly middle to upper class families taking on the anti-vaxer mentality. Do they wear expensive perfume? Hairspray? Lotions? Take trips on planes? A vaccination is the last thing we need to worry about. 

I'm not asking you to take your kid to Chernobyl and expose them to dangerous levels of radiation. I'm asking you to help protect them, they way I tried to protect mine, which is now compromised because of misinformation. Obviously, these diseases were bad enough for scientists to develop a way to prevent them. I count myself as lucky that I didn't have to live through them being a common childhood occurrence and I don't want to witness a time when they become that again. Are all of these millennial parents too young to know what can happen? Maybe a severe outbreak is what we need to remind us how devastating these diseases can be. That's what it's coming down to and it's only going to get worse.

At the end of it all, it's our choice as parents if we grow our own veggies, or feed our kids hot dogs and Kraft Dinner. Some people will hate me for my opinion and that's fine. If you get your panties in a bunch easily, you probably shouldn't be reading my blog, anyway. If you are a naturalist and actually practice a completely natural, chemical free life, then I respect you and your choices. If you eat at McDonalds and won't vaccinate your kids, you're misinformed and need to reevaluate your priorities.

**Check this website. If you think the government is conspiring to kill you, then don't. That link will take you to the CDC's page for vaccinations. More specifically, reactions to them. Scientific results from actual tests. Not made up bullshit, silver spoon fed to the over privileged.

Don't be Sorry for Asking Me What Colour Your Baby's Poop Should Be

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One of my best friends, who recently became a mother, shared a post from Scary Mommy titled To My Friends Who Became Mothers Before Me. Seriously, go read this. If you were the first of your friends to take the jump, or if you're still living it up in your freedom years while we pick boogers at 2 am, you need to read this. 

My friend that shared this post, apologized for asking so many random, strange questions in her 6 months of motherhood and the 9 10 months of pregnancy before that.

This particular friend just fed her daughter carrots for the first time a couple of weeks ago, and asked me if orange poop was normal, then apologized. You should never be sorry for asking questions when it comes to your kids. I'm not a medical professional, but the relation between carrots and orange poop make sense. For a first time mom, a sneeze can be concerning. Sometimes, you just need that sounding board.

When I asked why she asks me for help, she said "You're such a great mom so I think you'll have all of the answers." Wow. Let that bad boy sink in for a minute. This isn't a stranger on the street that sees my business card, put together outfit, and complete makeup. This is someone who has seen me puke on my shoes at 3 am. Who's seen me hysterical over some loser breaking up with me. She's seen me in my pj's at dinner time, with frizzy hair and a spit up accent on my 3 day old shirt. She thinks I'm doing okay? 

I've always wondered, why me? I don't know what I'm doing all of the time. I put diapers on backwards for the first 2 days of P's life. I boiled bottles so long that they fused together. Because of a one time, over microwaving formula incident, I think I should be exempt from answering questions. 

Those are my insecurities. I felt like I failed the day I couldn't figure out why P was crying, so I walked away to cool down. In hindsight, it was probably the best choice. I focus on the negative. To my friends, they see me helping read a book from across the room while I cook dinner, do dishes, and don't have to move to break up an altercation. We don't see ourselves as superheros but we are in our own ways.

We have so many societal pressures to be the soft spoken, kid orientated, neat freak, super model mothers of perfection, that we forget that our kids being fed, clothed, clean and on time is a huge accomplishment. We beat ourselves up way too much over split second decisions that we think define us as parents, when really, those are the moments that help us learn.

Don't say sorry for asking your mom friends questions. We may have the answer, and sometimes we may not. You're reminding us that we're doing okay, and that's nothing to be sorry for.

Moms Don't Get Sick

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Last week I had a ridiculous idea that I was still young enough to handle drinking an excessive amount of everything for my 25th birthday. This act of extreme stupidity was followed up with a skating competition for P 12 hours later. I mean, yay for silver, but my head hurt! By that night, the throat pain had set in. The demon that is throat pain. Is it strep? Should I sterilize the house and quarantine myself? No, I just have an I'm-almost-30 hangover. This was followed by the realization that I was actually getting sick.

2 days later I woke up to realize my eyes were like marshmallows with slits to see out of. I sounded like a 14 year old boy going through puberty, and I was freezing. I called in to work and asked my "husband" to take P to school. Then I took some pills, put on some Netflix, and rested all day. HAHAHA! I.Wish.

I actually flopped my freezing cold self into the bathroom with the worst vertigo of my life. I was stumbling like a college freshman at frosh week. I slapped on a robe, some fleecy pants, and shivered my way to the kitchen. There, I made coffee and tried to assemble the best lunch I could for P. Oh what's that? Follow the Canadian Food Guide & have a no trash lunch? Not today school, not today.

Then the challenge came of clothing, grooming and feeding the beast P. She's like a teenager in the morning so that was a blast. She had Rice Crispies with "Lots of sugar!" because, you're going to school, so who cares at this point! I got a kiss goodbye and retreated to my bed. For 15 minutes.

Moms can't get sick. I would have to be hospitalized to not have the nagging feeling I should be doing something. So 15 minutes into my Glee marathon, I started folding laundry. Not just one load either. This was the laundry that had been piling up, creating a mountain of laundry shame in my bedroom. Mount You Suck At Life. 

At about noon, a wave of exhaustion hit me. I was sick, so napping was really what I needed. But there was more laundry, dishes, dusting, vacuumi-Shut the fuck up brain! It's nap time! Then the texts started. "Are you ok?" Nope. "Do you know where this random object is at work?" Nope. "Can you call me?" Hells to the nope. Can't a girl get some nappy time? At this point I wanted to suck my thumb and cry like an over tired 18 month old.

Finally, I passed out. I didn't drift away into a sleepy abyss, awakening to the sound of birds chirping, and stretching as I realized I felt better. I passed out from my feverish exhaustion, only to wake up in a puddle of sweat, facing the realization that I smelled like hell, and needed to shower before getting P from school. After retrieving P, I suffered through her homework, made us some soup, and convinced her a movie date in Mom's bed was the best idea EVER. 

I don't get sick. I don't get the flu, or a cold and the world stops. The show must go on and apparently I'm the star. I'm on day 6 of this death-cold/fluish thing I've contracted, and I've kept it together. Sunday may just be the day this mom quits for 12 8 4 2 0 hours. Screw it, I'm always on duty.

Sex Ed: Brought to you by my Mom

My mom and I are close. Not ask for cooking tips close, I mean describe your poop close. The things we talk about should never be discussed between mother and daughter. There was a time where she left 3 voice mails and when I finally returned her call, yelled at me because she obviously thought I was dead. After trying to reason over her yelling, I just gave up and yelled "I was getting laid, Mom!" Her response? "Well you should have answered the phone!" No Mom, I should not have.

There's been a few moments in my life where I've questioned our activities, conversations and thoughts that should have stayed in our heads. I know she means well, but sometimes its terrifyingly funny.

The time we saw Scary Movie. I was 10. My poor mom had so much explaining to do as to why the girl was stuck to the ceiling. What is that white stuff? I don't know if it was worse for her or me after she realized how much of that movie I actually understood.

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir? Ah, Lady Marmalade and 11 year old impressionable me. As any typical 11 year old girl, I was obsessed with Christina Aguilera so this song became part of an everyday karaoke routine in my room. When I asked what they were saying in that iconic, French question, my mom told me the truth. Doesn't she know lying is rule #1!

The condom lesson. Most people are shown with a banana. Not me. First of all, we thought we got shot in the car on the way home from grocery shopping. The tube of hot dog wrap pastry exploded out one end of the tube with a bang like you've never heard. Turns out, it looked like a mushroom and my mom thought Hey, why waste this wiener wrap...OH.MY.GOD. Wiener wrap! The worst lesson of my life was concluded by "And if it's ever this big...Run."

First Blood. Yes I called it that! This happened when I was 10, the day of my friends pool party. My mom handled it well until the following day in a busy Coffee Time when she was on the other side of the bathroom door asking me to describe the situation like some ink blot test. 

The big... What? Yep folks, the big game. My mom ruined the Super Bowl. I was never into sports and neither was she. So I was slightly concerned for her health one year when she was watching the same thing as everyone else in America and most of Canada. But in her sweet, mom voice, she said "Come sit with me, come watch football." When I was reluctant because it wasn't half time yet, she said "Fit men. Tight pants. Sit." I have never seen my mom that quiet.

I'm so Thad this show's over!

Take your fucking pill! I was about 17 and had reached a level of intoxication that I probably should have received medical attention for. It was around 4 in the morning when I stumbled into my room. My mom came came flying in screaming asking if I took my pill. I didn't even know where my bed was, let alone a pill the size of the head of a nail. She found my birth control, popped out the forgotten pill, and shoved it in my mouth and held it shut. She dog-dosed me. Drunk me spat the pill across the room and by some miracle, she found the now hairy pill and dog-dosed me a second time. In hindsight, thanks, Mom.

2 Pink Lines. I phoned my mom in complete panic at 19 years old, and in an eerily calm voice said "There's 2 pink lines. There's never been 2 before." Her response was epic. "Go to the store, get 2 tests that are different from each other, and different from the one you already peed on. Pee on those, then call me and give me grey hair." Then she hung up. 

Your vagina was that big, too! My loving, caring mother likes to remind me what "changes" occurred while I was giving birth. Jokes on her because she seems to to have forgotten that 13 year old me was her labour coach. Mean Girls references for days!

"I can't help it if I have a heavy flow and a wide set vagina!"

What Happens in Wal-Mart??

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It seems like every time I go to Wal-Mart something happens to trigger a melt down. Toys, food, over-stimulation, complete boredom or a combination of any of those, mix together to create complete chaos. I'm not talking your average run of the mill kid crying in a store. More like demonic possession. Something about that store ruins children.

I've seen you. You beg, plead, reason, whisper and even bribe them to stop. When all else fails, you resort to yelling, threatening and possibly abandoning your cart while you hold a screaming & flailing child like a football, and get the fuck out of there with that apologetic look on your face. I've been you. 

There have been a few times that I've left Wal-Mart and wondered if someone called the police. I thought for sure I was going to be questioned as to if I was:
A) Abducting a child
B) About to abuse my child because I yelled "I'll give you something to cry about!" in a fit of blind rage. 
I even checked the people of Wal-Mart website to make sure I wasn't on it after one particular incident.

We have had a few incidents, where P reached a 5 on the Fujita Scale of freak outs. That's a meltdown that occurs in public where she also makes herself throw up. Yeah, she's one of those kids. It's lovely finding a 16 year old employee, asking for a roll of paper towels and cleaning up puke while trying not to loose your shit. You see this, kid? This is me providing you with birth control for at least 2 more years. Tell your parents I said your welcome.

Luckily, the angry vomiting days seem to be behind us. My fingers are crossed and I'm knocking on wood. I can't handle that level of freak out anymore. But the attitude fueled rage still lingers over us like a daunting, black storm cloud as we wait for the temperamental twister to begin. 

*Cue movie announcer voice* 
Until next time on Shopping with Kids: True Parenting Story
Duh, Duh, Duh...

Why I Love Being a Twenty-Something Mom

Borrowed from Firstcovers.com

At 19 years old most people are in their first year of college. Some choose to travel, and some dive head first into the working world. I was attending OB-GYN appointments and comparing the size of a fetus to fruits and veggies.

While I chose to do things the hard way, I've come to find out there are some aspects of being a young mom that are pretty frickin' awesome.

Strangers assuming you're the cool, older sister. It's happened more than a few times, and it's the greatest compliment ever. No, you don't correct them. You smile and remember that even though you may act like an 80 year old and go to bed at 9 pm, you still got it.

People congratulating you for succeeding. For some reason people, especially extended family members, seem to think you're setting yourself up for failure when you have a baby in your early twenties. You get praised for doing basic things that are expected of everyone else in their adult life.  Yes, Things are shitty at times, but yes, I have a job, it pays well and we eat TYVM!

Bragging about your success. Being humble is great, but when you're expected to fail nothing tastes better than talking about your new promotion, with a 2 year old, at 22. You'll have people who spent 3 years in college and are making just over minimum wage confused as hell about how you did it. 

Not having to Google cray cray.  Still being young enough to appreciate stupid things young people say and understanding references is awesome. My mom thought I'd lost it when I would yell Wasssuuuuupppppp with my tongue hanging out. I had to explain it, and trust me, watching Scary Movie with your mom is embarrassing. Then again, when an almost-5-year-old yells GTFO and points at her door, you find yourself praying she doesn't actually know what it means.

Hop on Pop. Doing cool, active activities like living room acrobatics is fun. Wondering if you're going to break a hip is not. Instead, I get to do couch gymnastics with a hangover! Yay me!

Listening to the whispers. While I'm a firm believer in not giving a fuck what other people think, it's fun sometimes to listen in about yourself. "She had her when she was 17 and never finished school." "I heard she climbs the ladder under the desk." "She's so young. How can she possibly raise a child?!" Don't take it in. Laugh at it. Success fuels jealousy. Plus, the lies are hilarious sometimes!

More time with the brats. I'm going to get all serious here. You've seen the inspirational quote on Pinterest, but it's true. We all know our time is limited with our families so being younger when you have children may mean some bumps in the road, but we just get more years with our babies. 

Freedom-Fourties. Yes I'm counting on this! This is the whole reason I'm done having kids at 25. Don't get me wrong, I love them to pieces, but the idea of spending 2-3 decades chasing around mini humans, and then being tormented by teens isn't appealing to me. If it is to you, can you call me and maybe it will rub off a bit? I love the idea of being able to hang out with my kids as adults while I'm still young enough to participate in what they're into. They'll still think I'm old and lame like anyone else's parents, but I'll know I'm awesome.

There's a good chance I'll still be kicking long enough for great grandchildren. I never met my great grandparents as they were gone before I was born. I love seeing grandparents get a chance to have the grandparent experience all over again. I just can't wait until I can shovel someone else's kid full of chocolate and then send them home. And people say I don't think before I act!

Mario Madness

I've come to determine that Santa was an idiot this year. Between sparkly Elsa gloves, table hockey with some assembly required & a Wii U, Santa sucks. As it turns out, some of Nintendo's classics have changed. It's fucking hard now.

P doesn't, well, have the best hand eye coordination I've ever seen. I'm not much better. But somehow, this almost 5 year old has conned me into playing Super Mario World for the past 3 weeks. Once she realized the game isn't easy, she asked for help. At that point she realized that mom can play a little bit better than the dog, so that would have to do.

I have cursed more than I thought possible, which I never thought was possible. Every time that stupid, blond, pink dress wearing princess floats into a lake of lava I let out a fuck that rattles the airplanes flying over my house. 

I never thought Mario, a staple of my childhood, could frustrate me to the point where P says to me "Mom, you can turn it off it you want". At that point I'm so enraged that I come out with a "No I'm good! I just need to kill asshole Bowser!" I'm ensuring she knows how to properly react to video games and hockey games. There is something wrong with you if you don't appreciate screaming obscenities at a TV.

It's gotten to the point where she goes to bed and I continue playing for her. Mainly because my lovely little girl doesn't shut up while I'm trying to kill Bowser and the multiple forms that his minions come in. Playing a game with a kid gripping your arm telling you what to do and dramatically pointing at random things is a recipe for disaster. I mean, I'm doing this for her, so playing better only benefits her...Right?

I'm totally in denial. I'm addicted. I'm just wondering, what will my life become when I beat the game?! Nope, nope, nope. Not ready to face that one yet!

Boxes, Babies & Birthdays

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WE'RE MOVING! After a year and a half in our starter home, we've outgrown it. While I'll miss the property which is huge, I'm excited for a newer, larger place to call home. Basically, there's a chance to escape for about 30 seconds without being found in the new house.

I told someone today that we're moving and they asked "Why not get a 4 bedroom so you can have another baby?" Why is the usage of my uterus anyone's business, anyway? It's not like they're giving me helpful health advice. If anything, another child would only push me farther into the sleep deprived insanity that I'm currently embracing!

I never really liked kids. I could never interact with them with out feeling really awkward. I never babysat even though my brother is 13 years younger than me. I always said I never wanted kids. Then I turned 18. Something clicked. Something went seriously wrong in my teenage mind that made me want a child. I was still a child. When I was 19 I got pregnant. It was on purpose, I was engaged and I was going to have a happily ever after and ride off into the sunset on a white.fucking.horse. Yeah, right.

I have P, and my husband has 2 amazingly crazy boys who I love to pieces. So why do people keep telling me I need more? We both started early. We're out of diapers, baby food, 3 am feedings, engorged breasts and shit in our hair. 

I gave myself a cut off for more kids by 25 when P was 1. I turn 25 next week. I did it because I wanted a 2nd child, but I wanted to make sure I was sure. 4 more years gave me time to see what the first 5 years are like. I also did it because I'm selfish. I had P right after I turned 20. While my friends were going to college parties and traveling, I was clipping coupons to buy groceries. I did things backwards. I want the chance to have some freedoms in my 30's and 40's. I don't regret or resent her, or my choices, but I don't want to start all over again.

I want to spend my 40th birthday on a beach in Mexico with 20 year old P drinking mother-daughter margaritas, while I laugh at my 41 year old husband trying to keep up with the 19 & 21 year old boys.

I want to spend my time with the little turds we already have and I don't need more. I also value my sleep and the small freedoms that have come with the kids becoming more independent. Hell, P made her own lunch last night! Poorly, but it was cute.

So next time I'm asked if I'm pregnant because I'm eating pickles, or told that my clock is ticking, I'm just going to throw up a middle finger and say "I'm 25! I'm too old for that shit". Then I'll take a sip of wine and try to regain some sanity at the end of my already hectic day.

I Brought You Into This World...

I don't regularly let P wear makeup.
This was a boring Sunday.

P will be 5 in February, and in the past 5 years I've turned into my mom. I react the same & I discipline almost the same. I also say the same momisms as her, your mom, and their mothers before them. 

One day I actually thought about what comes out of my mouth and how ridiculous this crap is that gets passed down generation to generation. These are my favourite things to yell.

"I brought you into this world and I can take you out!" No we won't. It's a nice threat but we puked way too much and pushed way too hard to bring them into the world. Plus we actually love them and would never harm them. On that note, can I go to jail for saying this to my kids?

"Because I said so." If your boss said this you'd ask for an actual reason. If your husband said this you'd be like "Ugh! cave woman obey cave man" very sarcastically. But as a mother, this is like saying "fine" to a man. 

"I'm counting to 5!" This was way more threatening when I was a kid and a spank now and again was OK. My mom would blow the suspense (because she didn't want to have to take it that far) by resorting to saying "4! 4 & 1/4! 4 & 1/2! 4 & 3/4! Don't make me say 5!" Well that ruined it.

"I hope your kids are just like you!" My mother-in-law told me that her response to her mom was "Well yeah, I'm awesome" which is equivalent to the time my mom put soap in my mouth so I licked my teeth and said "yum". 

"If your friends jumped off a bridge, would you too?" At least I'd be smart enough to not go first! 

"I'll give you something to cry about!" Another one that was a lot more effective with corporal punishment. When your 4 year old is screaming because you told them they can't have a $40 toy that they saw 2 weeks before their birthday, it makes you feel better to yell this in Wal-Mart. 

"Your face is going to stay like that" Our mothers were liars and so are we. Congratulations. We just hate seeing these cute, little humans that we made walk around looking ridiculous with their tongues hanging out.

"What part of NO don't you understand?" We knew, and they know what no means. They just don't give a shit until you start counting.

My Kid Made Me Realize I'm an Asshole

My mother and I have a very open and honest relationship. She spent most of my pre-teen and teenage years trying to deter me from choosing "the wrong path" with horror stories of her teenage escapades. Instead of taking some valuable information and thinking twice about some choices I made, it seems like I spent about 10 years trying to one-up her. 

That woman tried so damn hard to get through to me and I was a bitch. A C-word would be more accurate, but she reads my blog and she'll kick my ass if I say it! She spent every waking hour trying to reason with me and even begged me to be nice and what did I do in return? I put her down, yelled at her and threw a lot of random objects.

I put this off to teenage behavior and after much counseling, my Intermittent Explosive Disorder. Do you remember Katie-Kaboom from The Animaniancs? That was my nickname. In case you have no idea who she is:  

She would go from this...

To this...

And this is a wild Katie Kaboom in her natural habitat.

I figured that no way in hell this would be genetic so I researched it. There's no solid proof that it's in the genes, but there's a possibility. That being said, I find my self daily telling people how P is so sweet but sometimes she's a complete asshole. She is Katie Kaboom. Exhibit A:

                                            

This is because I wanted to sit with her on the couch. This is a stage 3 freak out. A 4 is in public, and a 5 is in public when she makes herself throw up. Yes, I have a Fujita Scale for temper tantrums, it's necessary.  I'm fairly certain this is how I acted as a teenager towards my mom and my God, I'm sorry. It's embarrassing, it's hurtful and I'm trying my hardest to deal with it now before it escalates into something bigger. 

Less yelling on my part? More accountability for her actions? I'm going to try it all to make sure that these 4 going on 14 freak outs are nipped in the bud. My mother used to say "I am your mother and I demand respect!" to me constantly, followed by "I brought you into this world and I'll take you out!"  Well, I am P's mother and I demand that my kid not be half the asshole I once was! 

Glitter:Sparkly, Beautiful Hell

I fucking hate glitter. I mean, I'm a girl and take a look at my blog... I like pink & sparkles. Glitter is beautiful so long as it's firmly attached to whatever it's supposed to be attached to. Unfortunately that shit never works out.

Glitter is herpes. You can try to clean it, you might get rid of some of it, but you will always find more. Finally, you think you got it all! It's gone! You frolic around wearing white with the sun shining all around you like you're in a tampon commercial. Then you see it. Your personal rays of sunshine have shown you the glitter you thought you had outsmarted. Just when you thought it was gone: Bam! The glitter's like "Guess what?! I'm back bitch!"

I recently found a site that for minimal money you can mail someone glitter. What kind of sadistic asshole do you have to be to come up with this? The same person who's description on the website says "Glitter as a Service: want to piss off someone you dislike for only $9.99? Let us send them some stupid fucking glitter that is guaranteed to go everywhere." The kind of person I want to be friends with. Seriously though, Mathew Carpenter, can we be friends?

Today I was screwing around on Pinterest as any good employee does on their lunch break while eating pizza at their desk. I found another pin that caters to my OCD. Some good old How to Clean Everything in Your House tips. Then I saw it. This. #33 is the glitter fix. It says to clean up glitter with Play-Doh! 

I haven't tried it, so don't go pouring glitter everywhere to test it out. You're laughing, you're not chancing that it doesn't work. If you are pouring glitter everywhere, you're one bad ass mom wielding a Dyson.  

So next time someone buys your kid a craft set and you unsuspectingly open it up for them and find it contains glitter pages for colouring, glitter crayons, glitter stickers, or the devil himself: A vile of loose glitter, don't panic, grab some Play-Doh, and let me know if it works!


UPDATE: JAN 18, 2015

IT WORKS!!! I don't even know what to do with myself right now! Make it rain with glitter because I got this! Bring it on Ke$ha!

Santa had a brain fart and brought P some sparkly Elsa gloves for Christmas. They have rogue glitter and they sing everyone's favourite song Let it Go. Santa is dumb some times.

She had these gloves on and was running around singing Let it Go with dramatic hand motions that put The spirit fingers from Bring it On to shame. It looked like a unicorn exploded.

I found some Play-Doh that was adequately ruined by another test of my OCD: The mixing of colours. I made sure it was still soft enough that the glitter would stick and holy crap Batman it frickin' worked! This is the gross, dog hair covered, glitter infested blob after I cleaned the floor and the bed.

All that white stuff? Glitter. I actually feel like I conquered some evil, sparkly villain. 

7 Things the Person Servicing Your Vehicle Wants You To Know

Besides being a mom and taking on the multiple different roles that come with that, which I'm fairly certain I'm completely unqualified for, I'm also a Service Manager at a dealership.
After working here for 2 years I was thrown into this role with no previous experience in the service area. I have management experience and a ton of customer service experience so I rely mainly on that and ask my technicians a lot of questions.

In the past 2 years I have endured more screaming, name calling, crying and complete grown up hissy fits that put the terrible-two's to shame. I have also accepted donuts, coffee, thank yous, hugs and the occasional liquor store gift card. Yesterday was a day that included none of the latter.

I went home, popped a bottle of wine and was thankful that the day was over. Then I decided to make this list. If you're dealing with a larger shop with Service Advisors, or a mom and pop shop where you deal directly with the technician, please, please PLEASE keep this in mind!

1. Maintaining your vehicle is not an inconvenience. This is a thing that you have to do to ensure you don't have problems with your car down the road. (Kind of punny). You go to your doctor for a yearly physical, you take your dog to the vet. Please don't act like it's the end of your life because you have to sit in a leather chair, drink free coffee and watch TV beside a fireplace for an hour while we make sure your car is safe to drive.

2. Don't skip out on manufacturer recommended maintenance. I'm sorry if whoever sold you your car didn't explain this to you.  Maintenance includes more than changing your oil and filter when the light comes on and tells you to. Where I work, we go with a 6 months or 8,000km (Canadian, sorry..eh) schedule that includes a tire rotation, brake inspection and a full check over. At certain mileage intervals we replace your air filter, pollen filter, change your transmission fluid etc... These are important. Please do them. If you don't service your transmission, don't complain when you're warranty has expired and I quote you $5,000 to rebuild your transmission. Preventative maintenance.

3. Don't act like I'm stealing from you. When we try to up sell you a filter, brakes, or wiper blades it's because you need them. That $40 pollen filter that's clogged up with dust, dead skin & hair is filtering the air you breathe in your car. The $400 brake job I'm telling you you require is ensuring that when someone slams on their brakes you don't end up in their trunk. I'm trying to help you, not rob you.

4. Diagnosis costs money. You told us that your vehicle is running rough and has a lack of power. We charged you for 1 hour and told you you need to replace your spark plugs. What we actually did was test drive your vehicle to verify the concern using diagnostic equipment that reads the data from your vehicles computer. The software and equipment we use is worth thousands of dollars. We then pin pointed what was causing the concern, verified it against workshop manuals and manufacturer recommendations, priced the parts, verified the labour times & created a quote. 

5. We get paid by what we do. Service Advisors & Managers are paid either hourly or salaried and yes, we are given bonuses based on sales because it's a job. Most technicians are paid "flat rate". That means that if diagnosing why your engine light is on paid 1 hour and it took them 1.5, they got paid for 1 hour. When you complain about a charge for something they took their time to complete, you're telling them they just worked for free.

6. If I make you sign a waiver because your vehicle is unsafe I'm not trying to be a bitch. I once had a van in my shop that had basketball sized holes on the rear wheel wells. The only thing keeping the passengers in was the interior trim panel. The 3rd row seat wasn't fastened down because the latches were where the holes were now. There was car seats and booster seats in those seats. I explained this to the customer who got extremely frustrated and said they were going to continue driving anyway. I have to protect myself and my place of work so I made the customer sign a waiver. I still pray I never hear of a child falling out of a hole or being slingshot through a windshield because a seat wasn't latched. 

7. Don't yell at me. As a manager I realize I get the brunt of peoples frustrations. I'm the one you ask for when you think my Advisors are being difficult. They're actually trying to resolve the situation themselves with what they are permitted to do without authorization. I get it all. You can be frustrated but you don't need to yell. You don't need to call me names. Chances are you're not the first person to yell at me that day. If you're the fourth in one day you're not going to get anywhere with me. I am a human, I have feelings and some people have left me in tears because I quoted them $1,000 to ensure their family is safe in their vehicle, or a $50 part is past is warranty period. 

At the end of the day, just treat people how you want to be treated. Sometimes life requires you to open your ears, shut your mouth, and take in some information you may not want to hear. We're here to keep you and your family safe when you get in your car and try to make the costs of owning a vehicle as little as possible for repairs. And if you choose to be an ass, I've heard it all and no one can out-ass me!

So You Got Drunk...

My sister-in-law said to me one day that she knows 2 kinds of people; The first kind are young moms and the second are too drunk to find their phone. Then she met me and realized there's a third kind. Apparently I'm too drunk to find my kids. 

Most of the time I'm a responsible twenty-something mom who works a full time job and spends every waking hour trying to meet the unrealistic expectations of the modern mom. 

Other times I try to live like the other half. The carefree post college people I know that get to spend their hungover Sundays sleeping in, having #brunch & watching Netflix in bed. The only interruption, which would come as a ringing cell phone, is as easy to get rid of as a swipe of a finger to ignore. Oh, the sleep I could have!

But not me! No sir! Saturday night I went to a work thing and Sunday morning I was up at 9. When you have kids that is a prime sleep in experience ladies & gents! I was off to locate my car and pick up P by 9:30. I then spent my day assisting in the killing of Bowser in Super Mario World, making every kind of food she could come up with (blah!), painting, playing Barbies & getting an up-do. I will be looking into hair plugs due to how much was removed from my head.

Sundays are my kid days so why would that be any different? Mommy doesn't feel good because mommy thinks she's 19 still isn't a valid excuse and besides, I miss her during the week. At one point she informed me I smelled funny and grabbed my hand, leading me off to the washroom and told me to shower. She serves it straight up.

This whole day I spent wondering if I'm too old for this shit or I'm too young to be a parent? That was about the time I was trying to convince her to "just let Mommy have some quiet time on the couch". Yeah, nope! It became a game of see if we can get Mommy to scream. Spoiler alert: I screamed. Loudly.

After a lot of Advil, greasy food, multi-vitamins & approximately a tanker truck full of water, we had a great day even though I felt like that same tanker truck ran me over. I'd say this will never happen again but let's face it, it will. And I'll whine more that the kids do when we walk down the ice cream isle at the grocery store. More than my "husband" with a man-cold. But next time, I'll officially be a quarter-century so it may hurt even more. 

The Purple Ribbon

Once upon a time there was a little girl. She dreamed of being athletic like the other kids, but coordination just wasn't built into her gene make up. She was 10 at her first Track & Field meet when she didn't place in ANYTHING. Not even bean bag toss. She couldn't throw a sack of beans into the centre of a hula-hoop! But just when she thought that she was going home without a ribbon, out came the Participation Ribbon, or Pity Ribbon as I affectionately refer to it. This ribbon caused her to to endure more teasing and humiliation than when she tried to do the sprints and people were left waiting for her. The Frickin' Purple Ribbon of Doom. I'm not bitter, I swear...

Fast forward 15 years to a woman with an If-You're-Not-First-You're-Last Ricky Bobby outlook on life. I actually have a problem with saying that in every day situations. I can't bear the idea of not being the best, #1. I'm also a pretty shitty loser. Is it The Purple Ribbons' fault? Probably not entirely but I'm sure it had it's affect to some degree.

P is exactly like me that way. She is horrible to play games with because she just wants to win and the world shifts on it's axis a little if she doesn't. Hell hath no fury like a 4 year old losing at Princess Candy Land! If she can't do it right the first time she's done with it and things will be thrown. Raising a smaller me has proven it's difficulty, clearly. 

On the last day of soccer everyone received a shiny metal for completing the year. I congratulated her only to hear her say "Everyone got one so it's not special." Huh. 

What would happen in real life if everyone was the same? There was no rich, no poor & no middle class. You had 1 car, one house, same pay rate & same food choices as every one else. What do we call that in the adult world? Communism. Should we raise our kids to expect this treatment throughout their lives? I think we should teach them to play fair, do their best and if they have some shortcomings teach them to improve and how to bounce back. In the end they'll become stronger and more confident in taking risks with out fearing failure knowing they'll be able to pick up the pieces.

Before I get someone riled up over me being the crazy sports mom, I have to say I love the idea of fairness and encouragement in any competition or sport. Kid's shouldn't be scolded for being on the losing team, but right there, there has to be a losing team for there to be a winning team. Disappointment is a fact of life and although we should never set our kids up for disappointment, sheltering them from it isn't doing them any good. We need to be the ones to catch them when they fall, build them back up and teach them how to deal with life when lemons come their way.

I'd love to hear what other parents think of the Purple Ribbon!  What's your take on this subject?