Category - Stories

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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’
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A Fine Line Between “Boo Hoo” & “Whoo Hoo!”
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I Have No Dreams
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The Beginning—This Is Not The Life We Ordered

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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A Fine Line Between “Boo Hoo” & “Whoo Hoo!”

I put the “mental” in sentimental on more than one occasion this week. I could easily write a sappy post about the heartbreak of watching my children head off to school this fall. It’s odd, this weird mixture of nostalgia and fierce pride watching your babies grow up before your eyes. I could lament about my son starting grade one and what a caring, big-hearted little man he is becoming. I could write about how his little sister is missing her playmate desperately and about the fear I have about my daughter, post Epilepsy diagnosis, going to preschool 2x a week. I could. But instead I am going to list the things my dear children do to annoy the living crap out of me on a daily basis—the things that enable mothers to wipe away the tears, and let out an elated “Yeee-ha!” (possibly too elated, as other parents stare, aghast, as you peel out of the parking lot) as you drop off your mini-yous at school. Here is my Top Ten List…in no particular order (though number one is a major pet peeve): 1. Mimicking my every word like a myna bird with an attitude 2. Peeing in the[…]

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I Have No Dreams

I’m not talking about hopes/aspirations kind of dreams– those died the day I had children. Kidding. My dreams aren’t dead, but rather in a temporary coma. I experience dreamless sleep these days. The thing with being sleep deprived (other than the brain numbing duh-ness and scary under eye-bags) is that I don’t dream. Or possibly I do, but I’m just too tired to recall. I used to have crazy vivid dreams every night that I loved recapping the following morning. I’ve never seen my husband laugh as hard at anything than at my “re-enactment” of the dream where I was master of a parade gone horribly wrong. I’d retell it here, but it would be lost in translation without the necessary visuals and accompanying marching song. Many of my creative ideas and quirky inspirations for inventions or organizational tools came from dreams. I’ve even had prophetic dreams and had tea with deceased relatives while dreaming. For the last few months, my sleep has been dreamless. No reverie whatsoever. Not even a simple, run-of-the-mill “running in place, not getting anywhere, while completely naked at my high school reunion as my teeth are falling out” dream. Until last night. I wish I[…]

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The Beginning—This Is Not The Life We Ordered

My husband gave me a tacky beer cozy—you know those foamy cups that insulate your bottle? “This is not the life I ordered!” was written across it in neon letters. It was a silly gag gift for an occasion I can no longer recall. When our daughter was diagnosed with the genetic disorder that would change all of our lives, I dragged out the beer cozy from a box in the basement and announced that I would be using it to hold all future beverages.  The Beginning: When our daughter was four months old we had concerns. This baby, our second child, wasn’t gaining weight, she refused to nurse or drink from a bottle, and she wasn’t achieving the milestones associated with her age. By six months we were worried. By seven months we were frantic. Our family doctor (the only medical professional who actually listened to us), was at a loss. She ordered the necessary genetic testing, and in the meantime referred us to a pediatrician who I took Avery to see several times. On the last visit, near tears, I begged him to take our concerns seriously. My husband and I knew something wasn’t right. His response to my plea for[…]

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