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?

Monday, January 4, 2016

Twice The Fun

Abbott poop smears now.

so there's that.

There were a few times where Brett and I weren't sure if he was smearing or if it was an accident. Last night we became sure. It was everywhere.

I had come to terms with Milo's poop smearing. It doesn't even make me mad anymore. I just go numb and go to work. I have all the methods down and I've worked it out so it's really easy to clean.

Last night cleaning up Abbott's poop smeared mess undid all of that. I cried while scraping the poop off the floor. I even screamed at one point. Something I haven't done, over poop, in years.


I'm so excited for this next chapter. Cleaning twice as much poo.


Can't wait.

All I've ever wanted in life.

Best thing that's ever happened to me.

Maybe this time around it'll be easier to overcome to darkness that comes with cleaning poo. It took me years with Milo... maybe only months with Abbott? I hope so. Most of all I hope this is a short short phase for Abbott. We are still in the midst of potty training him and he's very afraid to poo in the toilet. Maybe once he starts doing that the smearing will go away.

I can only dream. 

Thursday, December 10, 2015

80 Percent


That's the number of marriages that will fail when you add a child with a disability into the mix. 

Yup. Just let that number sink in for a minute.

It's a daunting number. Every parent who has a special needs child knows this stat and has most certainly wondered if they would make the cut. I get it. Marriage is difficult as is, then you add children into it and it becomes increasingly more difficult, you add a special needs child and it can be impossible at times. 

Milo is severely autistic. Abbott is probably also autistic, we're working on getting him evaluated, either way he falls into the special needs realm. So, naturally, Brett and I fall into the category of "Parents with a child with disabilities". Have I thought about my marriage with Brett failing over this one stat? Yes. We're tired a lot. We don't really sleep all that well because Milo doesn't sleep all that well. You all know what it's like when you've had a bad nights sleep, we've all had them; it's hard to function the next day, you're more irritable, you don't get that many things done, you slack a little more. That's me and Brett... everyday. 

We're coming close to our 10 year anniversary at the end of this month. It doesn't seem that long as I type the number, but I'm at a point where I almost can't remember life without him. We've been through a great deal together, we've had some pretty great moments together and some pretty terrible ones too, and I can safely say that no one knows me as well as he does. 

I'm in no position to say that I'm perfect and that's why I'm still married. I don't know why all those people got divorced and I don't have some hidden secret to a successful marriage, I'm sure if I wrote a book on it there would be five chapters dedicated to what shows to watch on Netflix and the best snacks to pair them with (A little bit of Futurama pairs perfectly with a bowl of fruit loops, it brings a good sense of fun to the whole night. I always love a good Doctor Who with my bag of Mesquite BBQ Dutch Crunch potato chips, brings out the adventurous side in me. If you're looking for a more romantic setting, try a frothy Sleepless in Seattle with a moist batch of BBQ wings). My other chapters would probably be about how to negotiate who cleans up the kids mess, it would be heavily laden with manipulation tactics no doubt. People divorce for many reasons and it's not any of my business to judge them for it, it could easily be me in a few years. What I want to say is screw that stat. Screw it. Life is life and I'm tired of worrying about the "what if's" in this world. I love Brett. He's my best friend. I can count on him (minus with car keys... he's useless with his car keys). I can trust him. I can be me around him. He makes me happy. He makes me laugh harder than anyone else. I have a blast with him. I've opened up to him about my greatest fears and worries. I love him. Are we going to get a divorce in the future? I don't know, maybe we will. This is one of those times that I- as a huge control freak- need to just stop and smell the roses.

I'm not going to worry or care about that stupid number. I'm going to do the best I can for me, and Brett is the best thing for me. 

As a side note I'd love to suggest the popcorn being best paired with a light action movie like Die Hard or Bloodsport. 

...hmmm... maybe I WILL write a book one day.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

My Toasty Blanket For Legs.

Let me ask this question: 

Why is there a stigma on sweatpants? 

Why does it matter so much if I want to wear sweatpants all the time? I like them. They're comfortable. Sometimes they can be cute. Mostly I wear ugly ones... because they're the most comfy. They are stretchy at the waist so I don't feel the same discomfort I feel when I'm wearing jeans. Nothing is worse that putting on a freshly washed pair of jeans- struggling for life to pull them on. It's like an Olympic event getting the button clasp through that hole that seems to get smaller and further away every time I even think about trying to put them on 

"You think you're going to put me on? Alaka-ZAM! You just gained 5 pounds. Congratulations." - Jeans. 

Sweatpants are that moment you wake up first thing in the morning after the best sleep of your life where the worst thing in the world would be leaving the covers of that, already toasty, blanket. Sweatpants are my toasty blanket... for my legs. Why would anyone not want to wear that all the time?

Society is the thing that made me care about picking up my son in sweatpants. The first day of school I saw a mother in her pajamas dropping her kid off in the morning, and from that experience I learned that it's fine to wear them too the school first thing, but pick up is a different story. Pick up is a fashion show. The closest you can get to comfy clothes, during that time of day, is workout clothing. 

These are all things we as a society have defined as acceptable *shakes fist, yet again, at society*. "Sweatpants? To pick up your son? way. The tighter version, aka. Leggings, are totally fine though." Why? I have been wearing sweatpants in my house all day and 2 minutes before I step out the door I'm going to change into leggings. As soon as I get back, the first thing I'm going to do is strip down and put on my glorious toasty blanket, for my legs, on. 

"But Jenny, dressing up makes me feel good about myself". Listen here. I'm 30 now. Life, as I know it, is over. Who am I impressing? The principal? The Dads that pick up their kids? No. It's a contest between mothers. Who is the most put together? Who is the best looking? Who can rock their workout clothes the best? Jenny just walked in with toasty blankets for her legs... gross. She must be over 30. 

What game are we playing? Who are we fooling?! I know, just as well as everyone else, that the winner of the "looks most put together" contest was wearing her very own toast 5 minutes before she left her house. I just want some honesty people!

The best is when I decide to screw it and wear my sweatpants anyways and another mother had the same idea. After looking each other up and down she looks me in the eyes with a little glimmer that says "Yes. I see you, and I agree". Thank you fellow mother who has had enough. Thank you.

Based on futuristic movies we're all going to be wearing the same thing anyways! It might as well be the toastiest, melt in your mouth, with butter and jam, blankets for my legs. Won't that be a beautiful thing?
I've got tears in my eyes just thinking about it.

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

My Cowardly Secret

I have a secret. It's a common one, suffered by many people, probably yourself included. It's shameful and looked down upon and the people that deal with this terrible problem are the ones that end up losing in the end. 

I'm a coward. 

I have dreams and opportunities like anyone else, and because of fear I become a coward and I let them go... one after the other. I've done this multiple times throughout my life in various situations, all ending the same. Me not doing what I want to do. Me deciding that I'm not good enough, that I'm not special enough to be something great. I've taught myself that it's all or nothing. If I'm not the best, I'm the worst. This toxic way of thinking has prevented me from living for a long time. 

Just today I thought about registering for a writing class I had been thinking about for months and I purposely didn't register. I purposely thought about how inadequate I was to take the class, how I hadn't been in school in over ten years, how I don't have the best or brightest vocabulary, how my grammar needs intense improvement. I went on and on and in the end I pressed the "close" button instead of going for it. 

Is it weird that I have to remind myself to do something because it will bring me pleasure and not to do something because it will bring me success? Or the definition of what success means to me right now. I just need to change the way I define that word. Right now success means getting the best grades, winning the first place trophy, living in a big house, having the perfect body, making a lot of money. 

Today I'm changing it. From now on success means being happy, standing up for what you believe in, taking risks, being vulnerable, doing what's right, doing what you love, being kind to others, not letting my fears stop me from going for what I've always wanted, believing in myself... and loving myself. I want that kind of success.

I know it's going to be hard. I'm going to have to fight against my instincts to give up. I'm not going to. I'm going to register for the next class early this time. Maybe I'll be the best writer around, maybe I'll stink.

At least I know I'll love it.