Category - Stories

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Flowers In The (playhouse) Attic?
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Whose Kids Are These Anyway?
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Honestly Me
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Tooth Fairy Meets The Elf
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Merry Frantic Christmas
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Merry…
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Clean Up In Aisle 5—Turning A Bad Day Around
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A Message For My Friend
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MY BUCKET LIST…but not exactly
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Just Bitchin’

Flowers In The (playhouse) Attic?

  I love my brother. Not in a Flowers in the Attic sort of way, but a… Iamsoluckytohavesuchanamazingsibling kind of way. A few weeks ago my brother Michael and my niece and nephew came to stay with us during American spring break. I said it then and I’ll say it again, “BEST…VACATION…EVER” said oh so sarcastically. I am so sorry little bro. I truly wanted to show you a good time. Instead I ended up showing you the hectic hell that life in this house can sometimes be. Avery’s seizures started up again a few days after Mike and the kids got here and she had at least one every day while they were here. I was a bit of a wreck and took helicopter parenting to a new high. Also during their stay my dad was “packaged out” of his job (which turned out the be a GREAT thing. Early retirement couldn’t have happened to a more deserving guy. Love you dad), Mike got sick, my nephew sprained his ankle and I basically had a nervous breakdown. Goooooood times all around. So, they left for home a few days early. I can’t imagine why. I think I heard their tires screeching as[…]

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Whose Kids Are These Anyway?

  Your children have the power to make you weep with joy and puff with pride. They also have the power to embarrass you beyond belief. Last week my daughter had an appointment with her cardiologist; a very nice man whose office Avery mistook for a playground. She was a holy terror opening drawers and slamming doors. The only way I could concentrate on what the doctor was saying was to hold her, bouncing her on my hip. This tactic did the trick until she decided to investigate down my top. Maintaining a serious conversation while a third party has a sticky hand wedged in your cleavage is challenging. Without warning my daughter grabbed my shirt and bra in an iron-like grasp and pulled them both swiftly to the side, giving the doctor an eyeful. I’m sure only look out of professional interest as the left side of my chest was exposed, which everyone knows is where the heart is located. I basically died. On our next outing we popped into the mall to check out the new spring fashions. While I was ogling a pretty floral skirt, Avery who was strapped into her stroller, reached out to fondle a[…]

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Honestly Me

Here are ten honest things about me… in no particular order 1. I’m sarcastic. Sometimes too much so. What? Like I’m the ONLY one? (See?) 2. My top left front tooth is a fakity, fake, fake. 3. I f*cking curse far more than a lady should. 4. I always imagined having three children. After Avery however, I chickened out. I sometimes mourn the baby that will never be. 5. I can’t do an accent of any kind to save my life, although to the chagrin of those in ear shot, I continue to try. 6. I have to say, “Drive safely” to anyone leaving my house AND I must blow a stray eyelash off my cheek while making a wish or something bad will happen. It’s exhausting controlling the fate of others let me tell you. 7. I like to be the one “in charge” at all times (number 6 makes more sense now doesn’t it?). It’s probably why I loved being a teacher. The teacher is always in charge. 8. I need a chemical peel on the backs of my hands. Why didn’t I slap on some sunscreen back in the day? Damn hindsight. Now I’m cursed with seventy[…]

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Tooth Fairy Meets The Elf

Have you heard of the Elf on the Shelf? An elf is sent from the North Pole to keep an eye on the children of the house and report back to Santa. Currently we have an elfin house guest named “Quacky” (don’t ask…his name is a stupid story within a stupid story) living with us. Every night our son tucks Quacky into the little bed he made for him in his bookcase. Each morning, he wakes to discover the elf is missing. When the family is asleep, this inanimate elf becomes “real”. He sneaks out of bed and gets into all sorts of mischief. He also uses the phone to call Santa…long distance. Occasionally he uses my computer to shoot Santa an email update (I’m not sure, but I think he has also been logging onto some nasty elf porn sites). We are having a hoot moving the elf around the house and staging him in different scenarios before we go to bed (don’t you just LOVE the legit lies we’re encouraged to tell our children around the holidays?). The other night my husband and I were killing ourselves laughing at some of the completely inappropriate situations we thought about[…]

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Merry Frantic Christmas

With the joy of the season, comes the frantic, hectic hell that is life for women everywhere this time of year. That doesn’t mean men don’t feel stressed during the holidays. Oh wait, yes it means exactly that, since Christmas is a WOMAN’S burden. “Burden” isn’t a very festive term I know. My husband would be more than happy to do anything I asked of him, but due to my sick need to control everything, the man is rarely asked to lift a finger. This black hole of shopping, list making, cooking, cleaning and wrapping despair, was dug by yours truly. So I need to shut up, suck it up and get on with it because… …the holidays are jam packed with “memory moments” and I don’t want to miss any of them. It’s cliché and obvious, but these times go by in a blink of an eye. Our children won’t remember if the boughs on the banister were perfectly hung or if the napkin rings at Christmas dinner all matched. They WILL remember dressing up like elves in the basement, skating on the backyard rink and putting on a “Christmas Musical Extravaganza” in the living room. This is what[…]

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Merry…

Yesterday in our son’s grade one class the teacher asked each child to share one special activity they enjoy over the holidays. Our son said, “We do that thing, you know, where you do it once every night before the holiday comes. I can’t remember what that thing is called.” “A menorah?” asked the teacher. “Yes.” He answered. “So you celebrate Hanukkah?” she asked him. “Yes. Yes we do,” he said. Oh holy Hosanna. The activity he was looking for was, opening a door of the advent calendar! “Do we celebrate Kwanzaa mummy?” he asked us later that day. “No hun, we don’t.” “Why?” he asked. “Well, we’re not from Africa,”I explained. “Do you hafta be from Africa?? Can’t we celebrate it anyway.” “Um. I guess we can.” *Mental note: buy some black, red and green candles… Merry Hanukwanzza everyone! 😉

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Clean Up In Aisle 5—Turning A Bad Day Around

Today was just one of those days where you just feel like you’re going bananas. The kiddo getting up at 4:45 a.m. pretty much set the tone. We finally fell back to sleep, only to OVER-sleep and have to do the mad dash to get to school in time. And for some reason my hair today is so flat it looks spray painted on. I’m bloated, and cranky and feeling frumpy AF. Driving home in the rain post school drop off, I pulled up beside a car at a stop sign. I glanced over to see a man clinging to the steering wheel, crying. It startled me. What horrible event occurred in his life to cause him such grief? I’ve been thinking about him all day. I can’t stop.  After school I dragged myself out to buy a few groceries. I had a tired little kid with me so about two minutes in she started begging to ride in the cart. So I heaved her in. Thirty seconds later, she wanted out. So I hauled her back out. She was completely out of sorts so I caved and bought a bag of goldfish crackers for her to nibble while we shopped.[…]

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A Message For My Friend

  There are so many joyful things in life—a laugh between friends that leaves you breathless is one of them. I can always count on my friend Sarah for one of those laughs. I am thankful she is part of my life. She’s a friend, but also part of our family. Last week her dad died, suddenly and tragically, and way too soon. It’s heart wrenching to watch somebody you love having to face something so painful. Our family stayed with Sarah and her parents last summer in Nova Scotia. Her father Gene, was a warm and funny man. I called him “Gampy Gene.” After laughing hysterically, Sarah corrected me. It was “Grampy.” I liked the sound of Gampy better, so I stuck with it. Gene didn’t seem to mind. When my son heard that Gene had passed away, he was quiet. Then he said, “Gene showed me the deers in his yard. He’s the one who told me what ticks are. You hafta watch out for ticks.” He asked, “Is Sarah sad? Did she cry?” It’s funny how kids gauge the gravity of a situation by how upset adults are and if tears are involved. “Yes. She did.” I[…]

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MY BUCKET LIST…but not exactly

  I love the idea of writing a bucket list – things you want to do before you kick the bucket. It’s not as easy as you’d think. I tried. I really did. But them I got frustrated and wrote a Fucket List of traits to nix before I kick the bucket. Here they are in no particular order: 1. Stop obsessing over how the weather is going to affect my hair and just go out into the elements and live my life. Do animals give a shit what their fur is doing? No. Humans are stupid. It’s only hair! 2. Stop feeling guilty about every little thing. I’m not even Catholic. 3. Quit worrying about my car, my house, my clothes. Material things DO NOT matter. I know this, I just need to believe it. 4. Stop trying to control everything (people, schedules, household tasks, life) all the time. 5. Seeking the approval of others is pointless. Suck it up ya sensitive pansy and just get on with it. 6. Envy is ugly. So what if she’s a better writer, or he’s wittier or she’s thinner or more in shape or more successful or….fucket. Does it matter? 7. As[…]

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Just Bitchin’

I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mother ~ Meredith Brooks I’m pretty even-keeled most of time. I never yell and rarely pitch a fit. I’m generally easy going, unless I’m over-tired. Or super hungry. Throw in a few hormonal spikes and I can be… unpleasant.  At first I get quiet. Which is abnormal. Eerie even. This is a warning sign. Then comes that hyper, giddy, everything is hilarious, burst of energy you have before you crash and that, right there, is when I can become a bit of a bitch. And who is in my line of fire? Surely not my children. They’re too young and innocent to face my wrath full force. No. It’s my closest friend. My soul mate. The one who is legally bound to me until death do we part. Here are the ten things he does to drive me over the edge. Poor man, but he knew what he was in for when he married me.  1. Slurping any liquid. He’s doing it right now as I’m writing this. It’s all I can do not to wrestle that mug away from his grasp and bash him over the head with[…]

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