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?

Honestly, are Pants a Necessity?

As I quickly threw together an outfit for my daughter this morning, I was greeted by the usual "No jeans!" request demand. Ever single morning of the past two-ish years P has been on jean strike. Not like grab a sign, stomp your feet and chant. I'm talking Cold War level of negotiations with a possible nuclear strike if the issue is pushed too far. There was even a day I tested this theory and made her wear jeans to prove a point that they're really not that bad. When she got home from school, I found them in the trash instead of the laundry hamper. Touché.  

She lives in spandex. But no pants at all is even better because: No pants party. EVERYDAY. Obviously. It's gone so far that even jeggings, the gift from heaven that they are, aren't acceptable if they have a button. What the fuck?! I regularly wear jeggings because A) They look like actual pants B) They still fit after lunch C) Thunder thighs loooove them. 

Today we made a deal: Mommy would wear real dress pants to work if P wore some damn jeans! I sweetened the deal with a sparkly belt and shipped her off to Grandma's house for the snow day with one rule: No pants parties are NOT happening today!

So problem solved! I can survive one day in real pants... Or so I thought.  Approximately one hour into sitting at my desk, I realized that I did a magic trick since the last time I wore these pants that involved eating food and watching the thunder thighs expand.  The stretching seams looked like angry, little fat thigh judging faces.

About 2 hours in I caved and bought some black yogas. I'd apologize for breaking my deal, but I'm sure P is currently wandering around pant-less & sock-less with a tub of ice cream and a spoon at Grandma's! 

I'm quite comfy in my elasticized embrace hoping that no one notices that these are athletic pants until 5pm.  Moral of the story: Some times the kids are right. Don't ever tell them that though! Lycra rules the world. Or at least my in house.

9 Achievable Resolutions for Everyone

Every year I seem to set out with a list of unrealistic resolutions to achieve. Every year I end up disappointed in myself by February. Apparently I have commitment issues...

This year I've compiled a list of of changes that I need to make that make sense for me. None of which involve a goal weight.

1. Spend more time with family.  As I type this, we're watching the new TMNT movie so I'm not sure I'm off to a good start. But I mean slowing down, looking at your kid's faces.Take in what they say instead of uttering empty uh-huhs while they chat about their day. Stopping to smell the roses.

2. Not dieting-  My daughter will be 5 in February so I can no longer say this extra 30lbs is baby weight. Gym time is hard to come by and let's face it; Cookies are amazing. Don't cut out carbs and dairy. Don't count calories. Eat more veggies. Have a smoothie.

3. Read- 1 book per month if that's all you can fit in. We consume so much negativity and useless knowledge we forget about the feeling of reading a quality novel. If possible try to make it a real book. You know, the vintage kind where you flip pages instead of swiping the screen. You can't beat the nostalgia that the smell of a book brings.

4. Log off-Try to decrease the online addiction just a little. Remember that thing called outside? It's calling. Leave your phone in the house!

5.Be active-Don't spend hours on an elliptical envisioning a thigh gap and hating life because that's not your thing. Find a sport you like. Do yoga. Dance around the frickin' living room! Do something you can enjoy.

6. Say no sometimes-Being a Negative Nancy isn't the goal. Knowing you have hockey practice tonight, a science fair project due in 2 days, a big meeting in the morning and turning down drinks is totally ok. So is staying in because after all of those things you're dead. Know when enough is enough.

7.Say yes too- Contradictory, right? Sort of. You've been so caught up with homework, ballet, skating, hockey and that thing called your job that your friend's baby is teething and last time you saw her was at the hospital. Go have a coffee. Have an adult conversation that doesn't involve the analytics of your department at work.

8. Don't be afraid- Write your blog, (#8 is my bitch.) post that video of you singing, talk to the person you look up to that is extremely intimidating. Just go for it. You are you and if someone doesn't like it then you don't need that person. The world is full of people that suck and if you find them, then you can avoid them. Plus you'll be way more confident. Confidence=Sexiness. You're welcome.

9. Finish what you start- From following through with resolutions to completing the half finished DIY in your basement: GET. IT. DONE.

Go grab 2015 by the balls and be the best you you can be! :)