Our house is old. It sits atop a windy hill and its dark brown paint is faded and peeling. Woodpeckers often peck at it hopefully, their tickety-tap-tapping amusing and infuriating all in one moment. Inside, the sunken living room and rough rock fireplace attest to its year of origin, and the rough walls have recently been stripped of the pastel wallpaper the previous owner favoured. All the walls are eggshell white, countered by the warmth of[...]
Dear Friends,
Did you ever grasp a truth but grasp it imperfectly? As if you’d managed to catch a wee bitty corner of it between your fingers and somehow missed all the rest? I do that often. Have done throughout my life and continue to even now,
And it came to pass in the year of the Vancouver hosted Olympics, that a certain woman of great size did decide to reduce herself. Yea, even to bring about the removal of five and fifty pounds from her beleagured frame.
Her efforts were valiant, if sometimes misguided, and marvelous was her progress. Pop, she did shun. Potato chips she did shun. Yea, even the sweet succulence of scrumptious cookies did she shun.
But then cameth the cream[...]
Apologies if yours doesn’t and this makes you feel bad. But sometimes, a mommy just HAS to brag it up.
That is all.
Dear Tailgater in the Black SUV,
I don’t do the road rage thing. It’s my low pain threshold I think. White knuckled clenching of the steering wheel hurts and I am all for avoiding pain.
So I pity you. Or maybe just your knuckles because you? Are a jerk.
Tailgating someone for miles and then swerving out past them at the first opportunity with a certain finger raised doesn’t really entitle you to pity. If it weren’t for[...]
Dear Scale,
We have a long history you and I. I’ve even built shrines in your honour. But you’ve been unmasked as the foul fraud that you are. Yes, I caught you. Caught you in the act! And I will never, ever, trust you again.
Au Revoir,
She Who Does NOT Weigh the Same With and Without Clothes On
Dear Cheese,
I miss you.
With Great Affection,
Kimberly
Dear Lego,
I know we’re not close. We haven’t really bonded the way that you[...]
Dear Garage,
It was particularly spiteful of you to clip the side view mirror like that yesterday. Just because I invade you on a daily basis and briefly fill you with noxious fumes is no reason to get nasty! I tattled on you but Neil has refused my request to have you hazed to the ground. Apparently I overestimated the power of my womanly wiles. He claims to believe it was my fault, but I know the[...]
I haven’t shaved my legs since before Claira was born.
My leg hair is long enough to braid now.
Luckily I’m still managing to feel feminine.
Of course, it’s hard not to when you’re suddenly an E cup.
I recently donated all my button-up shirts to charity.
Neil keeps wrecking my Nobly-Suffering-in-Silence routine by telling everyone when I’m having a hard time and he’s doing so GLEEFULLY. Tonight he told me that he “told the neighbour” on me and that there’s no point hiding[...]
Dear Emma,
Stop it with the growing taller thing, okay? It’s seriously freaking me out. I can hardly believe I have a daughter who’s old enough to go to school, but add to that the fact you’re as tall as some nine year olds and it really sets my head to spinning. Also, could I have just a few more details about this whole kindergarten experience? Exclamations of “It was SO fun! We played LOTS of[...]
I am going to spend the entirety of my day doing whatever I darn well feel like. The end result could be very interesting indeed…or perhaps, rather dull, since my list of things I really want to do includes things like bubble baths and favourite books and copious amounts of baked goods. My long cherished desire of jumping out of a plane some day is being postponed at the request of my husband who says I’m welcome to[...]
Dear Old Lady in the Peach Slacks and Black Van Halen T-Shirt,
Honey, I just about ran you over. I know we’re a small town and people here make a habit of NOT running people over, because we’re so nice and small-town-Canadian like that. But when you step off the curb directly in front of a car, that isn’t so much jay walking as it is wishing for death. Crossing over into your seventh decade does not make[...]
If you had known me as a kid, you probably wouldn’t have liked me much. Unless you find sulkiness endearing and frequent fits of melancholy charming, that is. Yep, even then, however many decades ago, I tended to over think things. Though it wasn’t till I hit my early twenties that anyone verbally applied the label Neurotic to me (to my face, anyway), I think it started when I was about six or so.
Birthday aftermath was probably[...]
Nowhere is it written that I have to write about my summer vacation. Vacations are lovely that way. You come home and start settling back into the old routine and when people ask questions you’re allowed, even expected, to generalize. Somehow, the weather, or the traveling conditions get talked about but actual EVENTS tend to be skimmed over.
I? Am not a skimmer. You, however, have permission to skim to the end of this post because[...]
Neil (as he’s ironing his work shirts): So Emma, what do you want to be when you grow up? An eye doctor like Daddy?
Emma: No. I want to be a mommy.
Mommy: Why do you want to be a mommy?
Emma: Because mommies can wear wrinkled shirts and eye doctors can’t.
Neil and I burst out laughing at her logic. It was a nice life role affirming moment for me as well.
I hate ironing. Good thing I’ve got this[...]
My mother-in-law (you just KNOW this post is going to be interesting, starting with such a potentially poignant phrase as that), is an interesting dichotomy of a person. At times she is the sweetest, most loving and concerned inlaw you could ever encounter, at others, rather heavy on the advice giving and it’s-YOUR-fault-my-son-is-fat accusations. I love her dearly, even though I often take advantage of opportunities to parade around stories about her. I think the words, “Oh[...]
I’m really insufferable sometimes. No really, I am. When I’m miserable getting me to talk is as difficult as forming macrame-like creations out of wet noodles, but when I’m happy? Good luck getting me to shut up about it. I burble, babble, gibble, and gab. I sometimes even bounce.
It’s very disturbing.
The worst of it is the advice dispensing. I am an advice dispensing MACHINE. And we all know how annoying the advice givers[...]
Instead of sitting here and contemplating the weekend just passed with a nice warm glow of contentment, I’m feeling a bit sour. How can the week compare?
How can boring blah weekdays compare to hours of fun with family and friends? Watching the kids play with their new friends, splashing in the kiddie pool and screaming with shock and delight whenever Neil turns the hose on them? Laughing hysterically while the kids put on plays for[...]
All that jabber about being happy to be sick because it means the pregnancy is progressing? I take it all back. Yesterday was spent curled up on the couch, moaning, and fighting off waves of nausea everytime I so much as lifted my head.
Not. So. Happy.
On the bright side, I kept the TV off all day and my girls played happily with each other all day while I attempted not to die. I also finished[...]
Awhile back, I wrote about a negative pregnancy test. I handled it better than I had any test before it. No weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth (actually I never do that – it really hurts) – I handled it with a grace and dignity that belied my innate melodrama. It was weird.
Weirder still was when I went to toss the test in the garbage . . . and saw the faint line. I didn’t[...]
…taken your temperature on a whim and had it read exactly 98.6, paused to reflect on the fact that wow, that is about as average as it gets, and then proceeded to feel rather depressed by your averageness?
…put off grocery shopping for so long that the only breakfast option available to your kids is applesauce and crackers or something of that nature?
…INTENTIONALLY put off trip preparations because deep down you secretly enjoy the crazy chaotic flurry of throwing everything together[...]
Our house is old. It sits atop a windy hill and its dark brown paint is faded and peeling. Woodpeckers often peck at it hopefully, their tickety-tap-tapping amusing and infuriating all in one moment. Inside, the sunken living room and rough rock fireplace attest to its year of origin, and the rough walls have recently been stripped of the pastel wallpaper the previous owner favoured. All the walls are eggshell white, countered by the warmth of[...]
I first became aware of my self-destructive nature when I was eighteen years old. It was 1996, my first year of university, and the first time that I truly felt the full weight of my agency – my ability to choose. I was living in the attic of my Grandma’s house. A huge, sprawling room with worn, musty smelling carpeting and a windowseat that looked out over the back garden and the park beyond.
Despite all[...]
Dear Friends,
Did you ever grasp a truth but grasp it imperfectly? As if you’d managed to catch a wee bitty corner of it between your fingers and somehow missed all the rest? I do that often. Have done throughout my life and continue to even now,
Dear Teenage Boys Dressed in Black, Walking ON the Black Icy Road in the Dark,
Dudes. Seriously?
Grateful Not to Have Accidentally KILLED You,
The Lady Who You Should be REALLY Glad Had Her Brights On
Dear Writing Contest Judges,
I’m using you and I apologize. I didn’t enter to win. I entered to force you to tell me WHY I can’t win so next time I can ROCK that contest.
Abashedly,
The Amateur Writer Who Would Give You I’m-Sorry Chocolate if it Wouldn’t[...]
(Previous post removed for personal reasons.)
I’m trying to find a way to laugh at myself today. It’s another Monday-ish Monday, full of weekend mess and mayhem, sick kids, a writing deadline looming, and as the comic implies, an overwhelming feeling of inadequacy.
I wish I were less perceptive. And yeah, that’s kind of a backhanded way to give myself a compliment especially because in many ways I am so NOT. But I can look at my life and[...]
You know how “they” say that you’ve got to love yourself? That it’s key to making positive changes in your life? Yeah, I’ve always thought that was a load of hooey. After all, if you love yourself as you are, where’s the motivation for change? I’ve always gone the self-loathing route. Hate myself till, despite the despair and misery, I somehow find the energy to change.
Well, I did that for a couple decades and it[...]
Oh. My.
Teething baby at 6am.
First post-baby period started.
Voice just a painful froggy remnant of its former self.
Nasty stuffed up sinuses.
Girls up at 6:30am.
A sick Emma staying home from school.
New plotlines and characters bouncing around in my head demanding to be written.
Too many demands.
HOWEVER…
Making pancakes for Becca as a promised reward for using the potty right before bed (woot!).
Claira has been marginally happy.
Weight is down again to 204.6 despite evening snacks last night and despite first day of period.
Girls have[...]
And it came to pass in the year of the Vancouver hosted Olympics, that a certain woman of great size did decide to reduce herself. Yea, even to bring about the removal of five and fifty pounds from her beleagured frame.
Her efforts were valiant, if sometimes misguided, and marvelous was her progress. Pop, she did shun. Potato chips she did shun. Yea, even the sweet succulence of scrumptious cookies did she shun.
But then cameth the cream[...]
Apologies if yours doesn’t and this makes you feel bad. But sometimes, a mommy just HAS to brag it up.
That is all.
Some days, it is enough just to get out of bed and land on my feet instead of my knees. To shower. To dress. To make breakfast from the fridge instead of the cupboards. To move rather than slouch on the couch.
Some days, it is enough just to live. Some days, that’s all I have in me. Back to square one. No frills or gimmicks. No extras. No going[...]
