Wednesday, October 26, 2016

'Me' Time.

I screamed in my car this morning. Full out blood curdling screamed as loud as I could. I was on my way back to Milo's school to pick him up because "he's feeling out of sorts".

Lets back up a bit.

I'm a little introverted. I don't just like "me" time, I need "me" time. I need quiet and peace, I need time to recharge to be my normal self. I also need to be alone to do this. As in... I want my house to be empty or devoid of any human existence (or bugs... they can screw off too). The only thing worse than not getting "me" time is when I know that "me" time is going to happen on a certain day and then that day is heartlessly ripped away from me, because I'm a "Mom" or my kids "legal guardian" or a "responsible adult" or because "I'm the one who chose to be a parent".

Last week was the beginning of sick season for my house. Abbott threw up so he stayed home from preschool for that week. Friday Milo and I both got the flu at the same time followed very quickly by Brett getting the flu. It was a crappy crappy weekend. The flu is out of our house, we are all well. Today was going to be the first day I've had to myself for almost 2 weeks, I was REALLY looking forward to it. Milo had been happy and recovered, he even went to school yesterday so I was sure everything was going to go back to normal. I get that crap happens and if it's not one thing, it's another, but this is too soon. TOO SOON! I had 20 minutes before the school called me and said "He's just been lying on the floor. He doesn't want to do anything. Maybe he's still sick". So help me... if my kid is still sick I'll cut someone.

I'll cut them.

So now instead of a peaceful day filled with calming music, some reading, getting chores easily finished... I get to listen to Milo replay the ending of Beauty and the Beast 100 million times. 

"hahaha, what's the matter BEAST!? Too kind and gentle to fight BACK!" repeated over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and  over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and ovbet and oevbero and eorbsk zsdkjlhdsgjkhbfdsgkjhbad;flkjbg;lkjbsdkjgfbaksjdgbk;ajbgkjbagk;jbdfgk;jnbdfg;

maybe my period is coming soon. 

Thursday, August 25, 2016

Our Summer

Every summer is always a bit rough. I try so hard to keep my cool, but there is usually a day or two or a whole month (Summer of 2013) where I'm crying hysterically, willing school to start back up again. This summer has probably been one of the best ones with my kids. I only cried like a crazy person once! 

My motto was "Chill". Anytime something crazy happened, I closed my eyes and said "Chill". Milo poured out an entire bag of popcorn seeds all over the floor? Chill. Abbott broke a whole carton of eggs and mushed all the meat in the fridge together? Chill. Milo poop smeared in his room (this thankfully only has happened once, he usually does it at least once to every new place we move into)? Chill. Abbott decides to pee on the ground outside? Chill. We lose water for five days? Chill. A huge butterfly flaps around your face? CHILL!

I also told myself that I wasn't going to plan some huge event this year and that everything we did would be met with calm tranquility. I purposely didn't plan to go on some big vacation anywhere with my kids, moving to a new place is stressful enough. We spent most of our time by the river or hanging out at the park and when I wanted to be a hermit, the kids played in the hot tub or we lazed about inside on our beautiful electronic devices. It was really nice. I didn't have a care in the world for the most part and in my defense, the day that I lost it and cried like a crazy person (...and maybe looked up giving children up for adoption) I was also on my period. 

Now that school time is nearing I'm getting excited to get back into a routine, but this summer was really awesome. I got to stay in an incredible house (I'm still here, but we'll likely move soonish) and cook in a luxury kitchen, I got to hang out in a hot tub as much as I wanted, got to go on random hikes with my kids on trails that are a 2 minute walk from my house, I got to swim in a river that's basically in my backyard, I got a special treat and had the house to myself for two days. 

It was a great summer. I'll be sad to see it go. I'm realizing, as a person who has insane anxiety, that these chill summers are the thing for me. 

Saturday, August 20, 2016

Embracing Defeat

This past week I discovered I'm much more vain than I admitted. Before I hit the dirty 30 I thought it wouldn't affect me at all. I tried to act cool about it and was shocked when I heard others having a hard time when faced with it.

Well, turns out I've been panicking about becoming older this entire time. I'm getting older, my skin is a bit looser and working out isn't making anything tighter. My boobs sag to the side when I lay down. My eyes get crinkly when I smile. I have stretch marks and loose skin on my stomach from childbirth that could only go away with surgery and even then, it'll never be the same as when I was 18. My body aches when I wake up first thing in the morning and I'm realizing that I actually HAVE to work out if I want my knees to not kill me. This past year I noticed these things to a painful level and cared a lot about my aging progression.

I started to resent my kids for my stomach. I started to smile less in pictures to avoid my wrinkles showing up. I started to workout because I want to look better, not because I wanted to live a long and healthy life. All of these things were for me to enter the fight to stay young.

If turning 30 is the year people realize they're not getting any younger, than 31 must be the year that they realize they should stop wasting their time worrying about wrinkles and be the awesome adult they were born to be.

On top of it all I found out that I don't really want to be young anyways. Did you know chokers are coming back? Yeah, it's true. The youngsters are wearing chokers again. How can I support this? The answer is I can't. I'm no longer "cool" or "hip with it" (was I ever?) and it turns out I'm fine with it, because when faced with the option of wearing a choker or getting grey hair, I'd happily go with the latter of the two and not just because I hate that feeling of something wrapped tightly on my neck (side note: I couldn't wear a choker even when they were popular when I was in elementary... I hated the feeling).

...and really, when you think of me does the image of a young hipster with a choker come into your mind or an old lady sitting in a rocking chair, on her porch, polishing her rifle while rambling about cats sound more suited to me?

Three cheers for my impending doom!

Monday, August 8, 2016

Complain. Grumble. Kids.

If I only write "Complain, complain complain. Grumble, grumble, grumble. Kids." you guys will get the idea, right?

Well, for that one imaginary reader who doesn't get it, I'll write a long version.


Brett had planned on going to Echo Lake for a couple of days with Abbott and I was going to keep Milo. turns out I did something worth being rewarded and he surprised me by taking both of the kids and letting me have two, kid-free, days.

A recap of my two days alone would tell you that I'm a useless member of society... who loves eating snacks. All joking aside... I really was a bum for two whole days. I almost didn't regret it except I started to get bored. I couldn't believe I was bored of doing nothing, but I was. I really dislike learning valuable lessons... especially when I want to be a bum.

Lets get back to children complaining. You would think that having two days off would energize me. You would think I would be full of gratitude and that a needle labeled "Super Mom Serum" would be injected into my body and I would be able to live on that for a long while doing all things super moms do. Not so.

I was greeted by the kids by not being greeted at all, they pushed me aside to play with their tablets. I put them to bed and they complained and whined, and it WASN'T cute. This morning they've been nothing but cranky. I went to the grocery store and Canadian Tire with them and Milo screamed almost the entire time. There was road construction and we were at a complete stop for ten minutes. Just try explaining to my severely autistic son, who is already sensory overwhelmed, that we just need to wait until it's our turn to go and that there's nothing I can do right now to move the car. See how that goes, because in my car it ended with a 20 minute tantrum. Those whole 20 minutes I kept chanting to myself "I love my children, I love my children" over and over.

It didn't make me love them more.

...and to top it all off there are fruit flies in my house. 

School can't come soon enough.

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Based On A True Story.

Some have heard the story of a monster boy who does not speak but laughs as he, in his naked form, sneaks around houses covered from head to toe in flour covering all the land he encounters forever in white leaving all 30 year old women in tears and anguish. 

However that is not how the true story unfolded. Come and stay and let me tell you the true tale. A tale of the unhinged desires of a child who only wanted one more marshmallow, but whose evil mother said "NAY!". 

It all started on a Tuesday morning. I had already had my morning coffee and the children had been fed. I was upstairs indulging in my sin of computer browsing, this particular morning I was browsing for new spectacles. In the same room the younger child was bouncing on the bed while watching Toy Story 2, also known as the worst of the three Toy Story films. The older boy was downstairs. I assumed at the time that he was still engrossed in watching the videos on his tablet as he was before. It was a great time. A quiet and peaceful time that ended all too soon. The older boy eventually came upstairs and joined the younger child while watching Toy Story 2. My stomach growled and demanded to be fed, so I took my belongings (phone and empty cup) and ventured to the kitchen where I hoped to fill my belly with rainbows and sunshine. Instead I came upon a crime scene. The kitchen, dining room and family room were covered in a white powdery substance that I assumed was flour. 

"The boy" I mutter under my breath as I clenched my fists in anger. I had been through this type of scene many times before and my first instinct was to numb my emotions and breath deeply. First, I went for my phone and recorded the whole disaster. I then looked at the time, it was 9:00am, and began to get to work. First I vacuumed and as I pushed and pulled and maneuvered the giant vacuum across the beautiful wood floors I found the bag of flou- WAIT! It wasn't flour. I picked up the empty bag that read "Powdered Sugar" and the story suddenly became all too clear to me. 

A few hours earlier while I was just waking up, the husband and the boy were already awake and downstairs lounging. When I joined them, the husband noticed that Milo had found and obtained a marshmallow. I clucked my tongue once in annoyance as I lunged for the drawer that hid the marshmallows, and found them opened with one marshmallow short, not even noticing the bag of powdered sugar that lay gently next to it. I grabbed the marshmallow bag and flung it into a new hiding spot, not realizing at the time what that one act would do for my future. 

As I finished the vacuuming and started sweeping I thought of the boys grief over not having anymore marshmallows. What was he feeling at that time? Rage? Sadness? Panic? Maybe all of those feelings and more. As I finished sweeping and began wiping the counters and couches and tables and chairs, I thought of the boy feverishly searching for the marshmallow that had once brought him so much joy, how not being able to find the bag of marshmallows must have brought him so much anger and frustration. Perhaps his thoughts went to revenge as he picked up the bag of powdered sugar?... or maybe he could smell that sweet scent that had reminded him of his one true love? Who knows, but one thing is for sure: When he opened the bag and tasted the sugar spreading across his tongue he lost all reason, consumed by his desires he went MAD! He couldn't get to the sugar quick enough! He reached in the bag, but it was only large enough for a few fingers! He ripped and tore and finally was able to pierce through the hole to the bag with his entire fist. What happened afterward... I don't entirely know, but the end result was... sticky.

Two hours passed and I finished mopping the floors for the third time, sweat pouring down my brow and onto the much less sticky floor. My lower back groaned and my joints complained, reminding me that I need to work out more and that I'm getting old. I shook my fist and yelled "Curse you!!!" to the moment I had just endured. I put away the cleaning tools and made my way upstairs to the children. The younger child was singing to himself on the bed, the older one chromecasting a new video on the TV, he heard my entrance and looked me straight in the eye. I gazed into those dark, cold, dead eyes that looked so much like my own. They seemed to be asking me "Was it worth it Mother? Was all that work worth not giving me one marshmallow?" I thought back to the two hours I had spent vacuuming and sweeping the floors, the way my hand ached from squeezing the cleaning bottle over and over, the way I was forced to scrub the mop that much harder into the floors to get rid of the white flakes that had made a home in the cracks, I thought of the untouched white powder that was still out there now... when will I notice it? Today? Tomorrow? "Nay" I replied in my mind " wasn't worth a moment of that horror". 

So at lunch when Milo handed me his plate asking for more nutella sandwich bites... I succumbed instantly. 

He won. 

Thursday, July 14, 2016

Summer Home - The Hot Tub

 How did I manage to have children and not have a hot tub? I'm not entirely sure how I managed them before having one. Oh wait... now I remember. They would take long baths that ended with me using a million towels to soak up the water drenched floor that the kids would turn into a slip-n-slide. Now? Get naked, pop them outside and I'm forced to sit and read while they play. It's win-win! I am terrified of what life will be like when we find our real home and are forced out of this palace. 

*If you didn't know: this is a temporary place for us until we find and buy our first house. This place belongs to Brett's boss and it's WAY too nice for us and a huge step up from any place I've ever lived in. 

BUT! Until we're dragged out of here, we're going to continue to enjoy every moment!


Friday, July 8, 2016

Call Me Jennifer

I've been gone for a long time I know! I temporarily fell out of love with writing. I also became really obsessed with anime, so instead of finding my therapy through my words, I decided to numb myself with endless anime. It was the biggest binge watching I've ever done. I've watched hundreds of anime shows now... hundreds. (side note: interested in watching anime? I recommend starting out with "Erased" or "Terror in Resonance" or if you like action "Attack on Titan" or "Samurai Champloo". If you want romance I recommend "Your Lie in April" or "Hotorubi No Mori E". There... now I've done my anime spreading duty) I dreamed in anime. It was... an intense time. I'm still in anime la-la land, but I'm watching it in healthy doses now. Maybe? Healthier doses anyways.

I needed a change and a transformation. I was starting to gain weight again (but we're not going to talk about that... ever) and I was, in summary, depressed. I needed time with myself to love myself. I did a lot of new things and started a lot of different project (like my first timer website that I completely ditched). It was fun and it was a learning experience. I started to get actual help and started trying to get better and be better, which can be difficult when you're an insane anxiety ridden pessimist.

During this journey we made a big change in our house. We moved to Nelson, BC. It didn't feel real and after being here for a couple of weeks it still doesn't feel real. It's beautiful everywhere and the house we're temporarily staying in is way too nice. We feel like we're becoming different people! A few nights ago I started to talk to Brett about how I hated my full name "Jennifer". During my life my name started out as "Jennifer" then went to "Jen" when I was a small child for many years until another Jen forced me to change my name to "Jenny" some time during my early teens and I've been going as "Jenny" ever since. It really felt like my true name, but in the end it's just a nickname. I'm Jennifer and we were musing on how much it changes me to go by my real name. At first I resisted it. I've always thought that Jennifer sounded like a name a snotty person would have and I hated it, but it's quickly growing on me! I even changed my hair from a side part to a middle part! Oh the insanity! Every night Brett comes home and "Jennifer" listens to loud music and dances while she cooks. "Jennifer" throw caution to the wind and lets her hair loose and parted in the middle. "Jennifer" doesn't wear make-up and has vowed to never pluck her eyebrows again. "Jennifer" goes to bed early... just like Jenny did.

In the end it's been a lot of fun being here. I'm even musing the idea of asking people to start calling me Jennifer. Will that be too much of a change for my family and friends? Am I blowing your mind?