28
Apr 16

It’s time to change my relationship with food. Ugh.

Coming out of a three-day long headache, I was met with the realization that I have some changes to make and for once, they are not to my personality. No. It’s time to come up with a fitness/diet/don’t-be-such-a-slug plan so that I never again have to endure the embarrassment and pain of hearing one of my kids tell me that I look like I ‘have a baby in there’ while patting my un-pregnant stomach (which, for the record, is big but does not protrude or hang down, is NOWHERE near my lady garden or knees and is still not bigger than my boobs. TMI? I don’t care. It needed to be cleared up in order to proceed).

Aside from sparing myself from the mortifying truth of looking pregnant while not actually being pregnant, I do actually want to live for a very, very long time (I’m a glutton for punishment, go figure). And it would seem that I have children who, like it or not, need me and will continue to need me well into adulthood. Not because I’m planning to raise them to be incompetent nincompoops but rather that despite what my teenage-self thought, we always need our parents around. Even when they drive us crazy. Even when we want to throttle them. Even when we move away and don’t see them every day. We need them and we need to know that they are okay. So, it’s my job to live as healthy a life as possible so that my kids know that I’m okay and will be there for them — whether to drive them crazy or help them out of a jam.

It was this line of thinking that lead me to figure out that what I need to do is break up with  my shitty eating habits and find a new way to relate to food that will not end up killing me as soon. And that lead me to think that my best bet may be to start eating the way I feed my smalls. Which lead to thinking that the very best idea would probably be to just eat exactly what I feed one of them in a day. Since none of them drink pop (and I’ve been known to hurt a Diet Pepsi or two during the course of a day), they all eat breakfast every morning, the majority of their snacks are fruits, veggies, nuts, seeds and popcorn, I would,  by my estimation, lose weight (way fewer calories) and I would be healthier (by default even as they eat very little to no sugar, sweets or over-processed food on a normal day).

But can I do that? Could this be a real thing that I could do? I mean, has the answer to feeling better, looking better, having more energy and managing my weight been right here the whole time and I’ve been too blinded by fads, popular advice and other people’s opinions to see it? 🤔

I feed my smalls a very healthy diet (my eldest son is making his own food choices and those are outside of my control – ugh)😩. As a family, we do sometimes order pizza. We do sometimes eat fast food. But the majority of the time, my kids eat real food, prepared by me using ingredients that I carefully choose. Their school lunches are not packaged in a factory or found in the frozen food aisle and almost never contain ingredients that I cannot pronounce. Their dinners almost always are 80% vegetables, and yes, they eat meat, but not in obnoxious, artery clogging amounts.

So, then question becomes, why has it not occurred to me to feed myself this well?

I suppose that I hide behind being an adult (and yes, I am using that term very loosely. The chronological definition really). I hide behind the excuse that my body is already “contaminated” from years of sugar, sweeteners, fat and chemicals. I hide behind the science that shows that detox diets just do not work. I hide away from the truth that I use food to self-sooth and manage my emotions. I use food to mask my feelings, to help me to feel happy when I can, confirm for myself that I’m no good when I need to and  entertain me when I’m bored. 😞

I use food for everything except what it’s meant for, which is to keep me alive and my brain and body functioning and strong. Like my kids are and I hope continue to be. So, I’m going to take the next few days to wrap my head around this, iron out the kinks, figure out the rules and get myself mentally prepared to eat like a seven-year-old with a  killer metabolism and a strong attachment to raw fruit and vegetables.

Who knows? May could end up being the month I finally shed my 🐌slug exterior and interior and graduate into something closer to an ant 🐜. Those things are stupid strong and able to do all kinds of smart shit. And if being an ant is out of reach, I’ll settle for finalizing my

But just in case I fail to metamorphosize, I’m keeping Pizzaville on speed dial. 🍕📞

#SlugNoMore #WhatIfWeAllAteWhatWeFeedOurKids #WouldWeEatBetterOrWorse? #RaisingHealthyHumans #EatLocal #EatReal


05
Apr 16

Things that make me cry and some things that do not

Because winter will never end and Spring will never arrive and we’ll be back into Autumn before really ever having the chance to enjoy Summer, gloom is muscling in on my thoughts, and where better to share that with than here? On that warm and welcoming note, onward with things that make me cry. Oh, where to start this list? It has the potential to go on forever. But that would be sad and depressing, and why would you stay? So to counteract the boo-hoos, I’ll include a the list of things that make me smile happily. And things that make me sleepy. And then, just for kicks, things that make me giddy and ridiculously, stupidly happy. Ugh. On second thought, perhaps I’ll just make a table rather than a list. Because tables are fancier than lists and today, I’m feeling fancy.

Things that make me cryThings that make me smileThings that make me sleepyThings that make me giddy
ParentingParentingParentingParenting
Not eating pizzaEating pizzaEating too much pizzaPizza🍕
Arguing with Mr. K.B. or having him upset with meBeing ridiculous with Mr. K.B. Watching Mr. K.B. watch televisionDate nights with Mr. K.B. ('cause then he's my boyfriend again 😉)
Being too fat Pants that fit and fasten shut while still allowing me to breathe without gaspingThinking about being less-fat and rifling through my closet to find clothes that fit and that are not pyjamas Pizza 😍🍕
Those goddamned military personnel homecoming videos people insist on posting everywhere onlineThose lovely, thoughtful military personnel homecoming videos people keep sharing onlineWatching too many military homecoming videos that eventually morph into how to potty train a giraffe videos (thanks, YouTube!)Standup comedy videos with far too many f-bombs and strong parental advisories.
Reading with my babies and realizing they need me to read to them less and less as they get more and more proficient at reading themselvesReading to myself and getting lost in a really juicy novel or bookReading textbooks that grow my brain and expand my knowledge baseFinding out that there’s a sequel already available
The Bridges of Madison County (the movie, not the book, the book was a complete pile of shite)Love Actually, Bridget Jones’s Diary, Gone with The Wind, The Wizard of Oz and GreaseThree-hour long Pirates of the Caribbean movies and movies with non-ending endings (No Country For Old Men, anyone?).Mobster movies, old black and white movies, the complete Rocky collection
Spicy food, failed recipes, cakes with jam in the middleWatermelon, sweet, crisp green grapes, Old Dutch Ketchup chipsToo much sugar and dessertPizza
The state of Ontario's education systemWatching my babies learn new things, despite Ontario's education systemWorrying about the state of Ontario's education systemThe promise and anticipation of summer vacation
MarriageMarriageMarriageMarriage
Realizing that time is flying by and I’m on the wrong side of itThinking of all the things I have yet to try, see, do, and experienceThinking of all the things that I still have to do just to keep day-to-day life moving forwardThinking about how much promise lies ahead for my children and the adventures they will have
Coming to terms with moving on to the second stage of family and parenting - the ‘no more babies’ stageWatching my babies grow into funny, witty, sensitive, strange, bizarrely clever independent thinkers and citizensParenting - all of the stages - from pregnancy to having adult children and everything in-betweenSay it with me: Pizza.
🍕🍕💕

So, there you have it. The Oh-My-God-This-Winter-Will-Never-End-And-I’ll-Never-See-My-Flip-Flops-Again depths of despair, stream-of-consciousness emptying of my head.

~A.


21
Mar 16

Is his depth equal than or greater than my ditz?

A brief, recent, and real exchange with Paxton, age 7 1/2 years.

Pax, while eating his lunch: “In life, you just gotta have a lotta patience.”

Me, half listening: “Hmmmm? Yes, yes, you certainly do.”

Pax, finished his lunch and while leaving the table: “Yup. A lotta patience. You sure do gotta to have it.”

Time skips a beat and I look up from the sink where I had been washing dishes while he ate and watch his little frame retreat from the kitchen and head toward the living room (otherwise known as the Lego Promise Land). Um. Huh? Wait a minute. I realize that I’m really not sure what he was talking about. Was he talking about ME and my life (with kids, house, work, husband, kids, you know, the usual) and in his uniquely Paxton way, gently reminding me to have more patience because he had noticed that lately I was running short on it or was he talking about life and people, in general? Um, what exactly just happened here?

To put it into perspective for you, I will share that when I was seven years old, my biggest revelation was that the Polkaroo was really whichever fella (in a ridiculous costume) who was partnered up with the girl host in that any given episode and not some separate entity and that was why, time and time again, said otherwise happy dude would bemoan “What? Polkaroo was here? And I missed him again?”

Well, frig then. Either Pax is wise and deep beyond his years or I was just a total dud at being a seven-year-old. I’m really hoping that it’s the former rather than the latter. Because having to admit that your decline began before your eighth birthday is just sad but bragging that your kid is a philosophy prodigy is just bitchin’.

So, there you have it. Another Paxism and another life lesson on this second day of Spring 2016.

#ThisLittleDudeTho 😍

😍 #ThisLittleDudeTho #MySmallsTho 😍

In life, you just gotta have a lot of patience.

Paxton, 7 years 6  months.


16
Mar 16

Our March so far, in as few words as possible

We’re halfway through March already. Wait, what? If 2016 could slow down a bit, I’d be much obliged. This month has been jammed with sick kids, snow, rain, fire, playing and as always, re-evaluating what works, what doesn’t and what I should be changing. But, enough about that. And enough words. Let’s slip into picture mode and let the images do the talking.

What started with a snow day (yay!)

What started with a snow day (yay!)

Lead to a family of snow people (note the belly button and chest hair because that's real life, ya'll) and a virus that felled the youngest of our warriors. But she has seen bounced back and ready to take on whatever the weather throws her way.

Lead to a family of snow people (or ‘squatters’ as I like to think of them) taking up residence in our front yard, (note the belly button and chest hair because that’s real life, ya’ll) and a virus that felled the youngest of my minion warriors. But, fear not as she has since bounced back and is once again ready to take on whatever the weather (or a brother) throws her way.

And of course, the month could only escalate into this:

DeclanTakenText

In other news, Mr. K.B. and I watched the Liam Neeson ‘Taken’ trilogy and it may have made me slightly paranoid (and perhaps just a tad delusional, but I’m not completely on board with that diagnosis yet). Also, anything I can do that gets my 22 year-old to a) talk to me and b) laugh, I’ll take. Any day.

And this brings us right up to March Break, and a few very lovely days with many of my favourite people, hanging out, seeing a movie (Zootopia – CUTE!), exploring the lovely Fenelon Falls and eating far too much un-homemade food. But that’s what March Break is all about, yes?

5/6 of my tribe in Fenelon Falls. Always a good time.

5/6 of my tribe in Fenelon Falls. Always a good time.

Oh, and that would be no friend of mine, just so you know. but just because it sums me up so nicely this month, the requisite unicorn mention. You're welcome.

Oh, and that would be no friend of mine, just so you know. but just because this sums me up so nicely this month, I give you the requisite unicorn mention. You’re welcome. 🦄

One half of March down, one half still coming our way. I just hope I manage to stay out of jail. Because it’s important to have goals. That’s what is called ‘being an adult.’

March on!


11
Mar 16

But, what if I’m just not brave?

Excuse the mess, I’m emptying my head today. I both love and hate the internet. It has been a blessing and a curse in my life. It has been a way to access information at lightening speed, to re-connect with old friends and make new ones, shop without the hassle of line ups at checkout, no waiting in line to be served. And it has been a way to be constantly reminded of my shortcomings, my faults, my flaws and failures.

Unless you are a responsible internet user (which, clearly I am not) and avoid all social media, check only your children’s school website, the weather network, do your banking, book your family vacations and surf the New York Times, then you may have also noticed what I am about to describe.

Memes. Inspirational quotes. Motivational quotes. Little ‘pick-me-ups’ reminding you to be strong, brave, honest, courageous, take no shit and do no harm, embrace your beauty and live your best life abound online.

Just a small sampling of the well-meaning, yet soul crushing encouragement found in three minutes on the 'net.

Just a small sampling of the well-meaning, yet soul crushing encouragement found in three minutes on the ‘net.

Well, fuck me. I don’t feel brave. I don’t feel strong, courageous or unstoppable. I feel powerless, scared, cowardly and small. Not every day, but I feel that way far more often than I feel like I have the world by the nose. And on those grey days, I don’t feel brave. I feel like I’m watching my life slip away one day at a time while I desperately grasp for any and every shred of happiness, contentment, peace, love and good from wherever I can.

A shitty day that ends with my four youngest kids all piled on, cuddled up to and all around me on the couch keeps me moving forward, safely protected and encased in their love, secure in the knowledge that their need for me to keep moving forward, and in my love, resolve and fierce instincts to shield them from the shit the world has to offer will save me. A great day that ends with a simple misunderstanding, a careless word, a cutting remark, indifference or disinterest sends me spiralling downward and desperate to find something good and real to hold on to because failing my children is not an option, so it follows that my falling completely apart is not an option either. But still I don’t feel brave.

I hide away from ugly truths. I shy away from unpleasant situations and other people’s feelings. I shield myself from others truths and opinions about my character. I hide away from facing being wrong and wronged. I hide away from true confrontation and change. I hide away from my own feelings of sadness, guilt and regret. Because I don’t feel brave. One day at a time, one day at a time, like an addict, I tell myself this ten times a day, when the panic starts to set in that I’m losing my life and not living up to my dreams, goals and what I once believed to be my potential. I don’t feel brave.

I look at my children. All five so different from the next. All five so perfectly imperfect and so absolutely possessing the unlimited potential to live the lives they dream of living. But how can they, without a role model, without a strong example to follow, without really knowing or learning how to dream, set goals and make their lives happen? How do I help them to be brave and really go after what they want, to be their best, authentic selves, when I’m so uncertain? So stuck?

I’m not brave because I raise children. I’m not brave because I get out of bed every morning. I’m not brave because I leave the house looking more homeless than chic. I’m not brave because I’ll happily eat chocolate for breakfast. I’m not brave for having experienced child birth once and going back for more, nor am I brave for numerous E.R. visits, breast-feeding in public, hospital stays with sick children or parent-teacher nights. Those things are all LIFE. Regular family life. And while I am not minimizing their validity or the importance of some of those things in my life, not one of those facts or events earns me the label or achievement of being brave in my life.

And, perhaps it is merely that I am stuck in a rut. Attributable to nothing more than my status as a human being rather to that of my being a woman, wife, or mother. I could well be experiencing a mid-life situation (not a crisis, I’m not that much of a drama queen, come now). I am not menopausal and hot flashing left and right, I am not buying a cute sports car or heading off to get a ‘mommy makeover’ at the cosmetic surgery centre, but I am questioning my life, my contribution, the true value I bring, my goals and my future.

b3c107d98303272e44022ace7e198cde

Yeah, I get that. Helpful. Thanks, internet. You asshole.

And I still really, really do not feel brave.


07
Mar 16

You know what is really upsetting?

This. The picture says it all. Tell me you see it too.

Just take a minute to let it sink in and fully appreciate what I'm saying here.

Just take a minute to let it sink in and fully appreciate what I am sharing here.

And while the picture says it all, I will add (this very long, run-on sentence) that when you are trying your best to be ‘healthy’, going about your business and organizing your vitamins so you may have everything ready in order to get your health goals back on track and some previously un-noticed writing on the side of the organizing case catches your eye and only then do you realize that your handy-dandy vitamin organizers were ‘swag’ from a cemetery, it really sort of, no, absolutely, sucks balls.

I immediately stopped what I was doing (mid-week, even) and asked myself: what are they trying to tell me? Are they mocking me? Goading me even, perhaps? And why are they (the cemetery people) pretending that they are trying to help me stay alive when in all actuality, they need me (and everyone else, really) dead to increase their dirty, dark profit margin and to be able to afford all of this fancy-schmancy swag. Because nothing says “thank you for your business, so sorry for your loss and we hope to see you again too soon” like a medication/capsule organizer, right? And really, what other business can you think of that can get away with wishing their target clientele dead and stay in business? I get they may not get a lot of repeat customers but really, maybe another business plan is called for to create another income stream? Also, whatever happened to a good old fridge magnet or lousy desk calendar?

So now whenever I take my vitamins, I think of death. Well played death expert assholes, well played.

P.S. This vitamin snafu did have a bright side. It served as a reminder to me to spend some time on our estate planning, things like Wills, Powers of Attorney, choosing the correct beneficiary for my one-of-a-kind eraser collection – you know, the important stuff that you just cannot leave to fate. 📝

P.P.S. Before anyone asks me just how exactly I find myself the mortified owner of these fine specimens of mixed-message marketing, I’ll tell you. They were a thrift store find. Which leads to the obvious conclusions that 1) I am not the only one who found these of questionable taste and 2) I need to inspect my thrift store purchases a wee bit more closely in the future. 🙄


05
Mar 16

What is the longest you have gone? Food for thought. Part 1

Ten questions. No wrong answers. Just trying to get a handle on some relative truths and whether or not ‘normal’ exists (my working hypothesis is that it does not). Also, thinking about your answers may provide a little food for thought or clarity if you’ve been struggling with one of these issues lately. I know that I certainly have been questioning just about everything for the last little while.

Food for thought. Part 1

What is the longest period of time that you have gone:

  1. Not talking to your spouse?
  2. Not being talked to by your spouse?
  3. Without cheating on a diet or exercise program?
  4. Without alcohol (for social drinkers) or other favourite vice?
  5. Without being online, checking email, Facebook, etc.?
  6. Without taking a shower?
  7. Without having sex, or really even wanting to have sex (while in or out of relationship – no judgements here)?
  8. Without the urge to pop a blackhead, pimple, or other skin imperfection. How about plucking an errant hair or skin snag? Yours or someone else’s?
  9. Without shaving your legs or armpits or face?
  10. Without talking to your parents (or kids)?

I’m a curious person by nature. Some may say nosy, but I reject that assessment and remain steadfast in my belief that I am interested, curious and concerned. I am also really invested in making sure that I am not living on a completely other planet because, you know, I am raising kids here. 😏

But it sometimes crosses the line and earns you a punch in the nose. But, that's the price you pay for growing your brains.

But it sometimes crosses the line and earns you a punch in the nose. And, that may just be the price that you pay for growing your brains.


04
Mar 16

February life lessons from my kitchen table

Late again. I know. But I needed to make sure that February was well and truly over. And when I figured out that it probably was, we were blessed with a legitimate, can’t-get-the-cars-of-the-driveway-busses-are-cancelled snow day. After a brief attempt by one small to attend school, everyone was home and time slipped away from me again.

IMG_2210

💕 this day – everyone safe and sound at home.

💕 this day. Miss M. wanted to go to school to show off her new smile (lost tooth) so we walked over, only to find out she would be THE ONLY student there. Managed to convince her to come home again. 🤗

💕 this day. Miss M. wanted to go to school to show off her new smile (first lost tooth) so we walked over, only to find out she would be THE ONLY student there. Managed to convince her to come home again. 🤗

So here we are, March 4th, finally wrapping up February and putting words around what I learned this past month.

1. As good as my intentions may be, I make more mistakes than I do meals a day. And often times I make the same mistakes over and over and over again. Until one could honestly wonder if I am doing it intentionally or spitefully or without regard or care. The answer is no. I’m not. I walk through my days honestly trying my very best not to upset, insult, offend or maim anybody. I came to terms with the fact that I fail more often than I succeed and the result is shitty. I do not have a dull mind. I’m not stupid, oblivious or otherwise simple. Yet somehow, I manage to say the wrong thing, the wrong way at the wrong time almost daily. It’s exhausting. I’m sure for everyone, but definitely for me.

2. Parenting hurts my head. When I think about it too much, my head and my heart ache. From both sadness and happiness. Being a mum, my children are not perfect but they are perfectly mine they each create a prism of joy in my life that is uniquely their own. I find that I often must stop myself from wishing they will never grow up, that they will stay small and close to me forever (too late for that now though, ages 5 thru 22, so no real babies here anymore). All the while still wishing for and working on helping them to grow and achieve and follow their own life paths. I’m a mess of contradictions. As much as we all say “enjoy this time, it flies by far too quickly” and no matter how many children I have had, I never feel like I have fully appreciated and cherished each age and stage enough. I always have a list of things that I wish I would have done differently or better or more, and I worry that my children may feel cheated that I did not do those things with them. I just hope that they know that 1) they are my favourite and 2) I always have their backs no matter what.

3. My super power is losing and gaining the same 10 pounds indefinitely. Not 8 pounds, not 12 pounds. No. It’s 10. That’s my pound number. I feel like if I broke out and lost 15 pounds, the spell would be broken and my excess weight would vanish over night. Then I could choose a new super power. I’m thinking along the lines of a healing superpower (like John Coffey in The Green Mile 💚) or telekinesis (like Matilda). I think those would be way better super powers to have instead of being the master of the same 10 asshole pounds.

4. I need to learn how to let things go, even if someone else is holding on. Or maybe I have to learn how to separate my feelings from those of others. I’ve only learned that I need to learn how to do this, not that I already have. My moods, feelings, motivation, happiness are, to my dismay and horror, very intertwined with that of those around me. If someone I love is in a terrible mood, unhappy, angry or down, I fall down that hole with them rather than staying ‘up’ and being okay, able to help them out of it. This does not apply to young children. I tend to  be able to lend them the support they need to feel better. Although that may be because their needs are less complicated? But with adults, like my eldest son or husband, this can quickly become a vicious circle with no end because he may need something from me to help him to feel better but now, I’m in no position to help him because I’m upset and lost inside my own head and feelings. That is not the person I want to be, but in all honesty, it’s who I am right now. Any ideas how I can disengage myself and let someone else have feelings without adopting their moods or feelings as my own? Maybe how to stop taking everything personally and be an objective listener rather than defensive listener?

5. I liked being an only child. And by liked, I mean, I loved it. But I am so glad that my children have each other. I loved being a family of three when I was growing up. It sounds terrible, but I loved not having to share my toys, my clothes, my parents love. I know that I was taken to more places, given more experiences and attention, went on more vacations all because my parents could afford it – because there was only me to provide for. But now that I’m older and they are getting older (as much as I HATE acknowledging that), I realize more and more how nice it would be to have had a sibling to remember a shared childhood with, to get our kids together with, and who would be like having another part of my parents around longer.

Well. February certainly appears to have brought about my inner maudlin. So, good-bye and good riddance February and hello March, you fierce and sexy minx. Let’s make good shit happen, shall we?

I've also come to realize that I talk about killing people an awful lot. But don't worry. I'm highly unlikely to follow through. It's just my twisted mind at work.

I’ve also come to realize that I talk about killing people an awful lot. But don’t worry. I’m highly unlikely to follow through. It’s just my twisted mind at work. That, an I find all the wrong and inappropriate things hilariously funny, so I share. Because I’m a giver.


13
Feb 16

Friday miscellany that spilled over into Saturday

A hot cup of tea and some random thoughts to head into this long weekend.
image

There is something so liberating, so absolutely and completely fucking amazing about cruising down the highway, alone in your minivan (shut up), blasting Bon Jovi and sing-yelling along with every word. It is in those moments that I miss my mini skirts and hair scrunchies.

When your five-year-old daughter is beside herself with joy because she was given FIVE heart-shaped lollipops from her classmates and that means that she has enough to share with all of her brothers so that no one is sad, means that you’re doing something right. Or she’s just a better person than you could ever hope to be.

I feel like we go through A LOT of fresh produce in a week. I added it all up and I think it only accounts for 1/3 of our grocery spending. So what the hell are we getting for the other 2/3’s? It’s not as though we’re a heavy meat-eating family, I never buy pre-made frozen meals (save for the occasional frozen  ’emergency’ pizza). So, where is that other 2/3’s going?!?

I am probably not, but it is beginning to feel as though I am the only parent left who sends her children to school to learn how to read, write and gain knowledge in areas, like history, geography and science? I ask because more and more I’m hearing from my older boys that they are being allowed to play and watch others play pc and online games during ‘free time’ or indoor recess and there’s talk about having a dedicated ‘technology time’ during class time. And during technology time, they won’t be learning how to script, program or design, they’ll be playing games like Happy Wheels on iPads, laptops and iPods. This makes me CRAZY. Teach my kids how to read and write cursive script, don’t teach my kids how to PLAY blood and guts games on fucking tablets. 1) I don’t want my 9 year-old playing or watching games that are rated 12+, anywhere and 2) I don’t want any of my kids thinking that school is a place where ‘anything’ goes. Because at home, we have RULES and standards that are expected to be, and for the most part are, followed. And this includes the appropriate use of technology. If I want them to melt their brains and diminish their attention spans, then I will park them in front of a screen at home where I can watch their decline instead of just dealing with the aftermath of their day in the ‘education’ system. This. Is. Not. Okay.

I have logged back onto Facebook. It is a huge time-suck, but I think I’ve figured out the work-around (those “x’s” on the left side of the tab totally work!). The reason I logged back in was that I realized that I enjoy sharing things on the blog’s FB page and enjoy reading the feedback those posts receive. I also quite enjoy all of those Britain’s Got Talent audition clips as well. Of course, the first time I logged back in I saw something that set my teeth on edge, so I did what I do – screenshot it, edit out identifying information and post it on Instagram. Because I’m also mean and  immature like that.

It’s now -26C, down to -42 with the windchill and one of my kids has a birthday party to go to this morning. Having to leave the house today is cruel and unusual punishment, but he really wants to go, so, off we go.

Ugh. Feck me, I'm too old for this weather. If I wanted to deal with these temperatures, I'd go and stake a claim in the Yukon. Get it together, weather.

Ugh. Feck me, I’m too old for this weather. If I wanted to deal with these temperatures, I’d go and stake a claim in the Yukon. Get it together, weather.

~A.B.

 

 


11
Feb 16

How the meaning behind all of those ‘Words of Wisdom’ becomes clear once we are too old for it to truly matter. And stuff.

Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm. ~ Sir Winston Churchill

There are expressions that I have heard my whole life. Many of them you have probably heard as well. For the most part, I never gave them much thought and just accepted them as either not applying to me or as applying only for ‘old’ people (younger me was a much bigger asshole than older me is, believe it or not), or I would figure that I was already doing the right thing, so the expression was a nice pat on the back to me for possessing  awesomeness by nature. I was wrong. So very, very, wrong.

Do unto others as you would have done unto you, is TRUE. Assholio behaviour to others begets assholio behaviour back at you. And it sucks any way you slice it. So, a cure for this would be this new expression: Be nice or leave.

Smile and the world smiles with you, cry and you cry alone (thanks, Grandma!) is TRUE! People gravitate towards happy people. People who smile. People who are friendly. Nobody goes out of their way to hang out with someone who is gloomy, negative or upset all the time. But, on the other hand, nobody goes out of their way to hang out with fake, artificially happy people, so find a way to be genuinely happy more often than not and good things will be sure to follow.

Misery loves company is also TRUE. So while is would appear to be a bit of a contradiction, misery really does love company. Miserable people love, need, and strive, to bring as many people down with them as possible. They feed off the misery of others to keep their own misery thriving. To ensure that they never have to make a change for the better or take a chance, they need more misery. Don’t be one of them.

You’re only young once is also, disappointingly TRUE as well. Best of all, young people are too young and stupid to full appreciate what this means which leads us to:

Youth is wasted on the young. Too. Fucking. True. Being young, I thought I knew everything. I was the coolest the know-it-all, I was infallible and living life with no regrets (while also making sure that I didn’t actually make any, you know, HUGE strides in life or taking any real chances, because, young and LOSER). You know what I say to that now? Idiot. Stupid, naive, twit. Youth was most definitely wasted on the young in my case. I’d do a much better job with it now, believe you me.

You never get a second chance to make a first impression is, TRUE. And that is also why I just keep blogging away. I blew any chance to gain respect or admiration for my writing with the first post I published, so, I have nothing to lose if I just keep on pounding away at this keyboard and hitting publish a little too often, do I?

Onward and upward we go, my friends.

~A.B.