The Time The Dresser Fell On Carter

This morning was a morning like any other morning.  I woke up, dreading what lie ahead of me for the day.  The whining.  The refusing to eat.  The long walk to the park.  More whining.  Long walk home from the park.  More refusing to eat.  Begging for freezies.  Begging to help me with the laundry.  Throwing shit.  Drawing on shit.  Carter being Carter.  No day is ever easy, but I weather the storms like any other stay-at-home mother.  AND - say what you will, it is MUCH harder to be a stay-at-home mother than it is to be a mother who has a day job.  I just had to get that off my chest. 

So actually, all in all, the morning was going well.  Oliver was happy (Oliver is always happy) and Carter wasn't whining too much, and I was thinking about packing a picnic and heading to Gage Park with the kids and the dog.  I decided to mull it over in the shower.  I put Ollie in his crib to watch his Ocean Wonders aquarium, and Carter just had the run of the house as usual.  Cars was on.  So I have myself a shower.  I'm conditioning my hair and singing Psycho Killer, and then I hear screaming.  Not regular run-of-the-mill-Carter-being-a- shithead kind of screaming, but painful screaming.  I take a second to process the fact that I'm really wet and naked and I have no idea what's going on or where it's happening, and I just poke my head out and I notice that Oliver's dresser is... not upright. 

I make a mad dash.  I am totally naked.  Carter is wedged between Ollive's crib and dresser, and the weight of the dresser is pretty well just resting against his forehead.  I'm being calm.  I am aware that when you make a big deal out of these things, it tends to scare kids and make things a million times worse for them.  So I'm the hero.  I lift the dresser with one hand and scoop out my baby with the other.  I check him over for any serious damage.  He has a mark across his temple and his eye, it might turn into a black eye.  But he seems okay.

I, however, am not okay.

I call everyone whose number I know by heart.  My baby just got crushed by a piece of furniture and I have to get him to the hospital!  Horrible things are running through my head!  Concussions!  Internal bleeding!  Aneurisms!  Ebola!  You name it - and no one answers the phone.  I have no money for a cab and now I'm just angry because I know that certain people I've called are deliberately ignoring my call.  So I turn to facebook and make a big, embarrassing, F-bome-ridden status update that I later deleted pleading for help.  Everything is fine at this point - Carter is eating a freezie and just being a little sooky because his new jungle gym fell on him.  Shit happens.  He's being a champ about it.

But you know what happened?  My not-as-close-as-we-should-be friend Katrina called me and offered to drive us to emerge, and just check on us to see if everything's okay.  And that meant a lot to me.  And even though I'm not extending my deepest gratitude in a traditional way, I am broadcasting it on my blog and I'm sure she'll read this and know that it meant the world.  I am going to make myself a good friend to her - even if she doesn't want me to. 

And throughout the day, an outpouring of concern and similar "bad mother" stories flooded my facebook inbox, from some rather surprising sources.  And I learned a couple of valuable lessons today.

1.  Dressers should be anchored.
2.  Some family members may not answer the phone because they have a headache, or because they have the flu for the tenth time this week, or because they're scared you want to bring your busy, loud little boy over to interrupt their TV show (I'm not talking about my parents, who are wonderful grandparents who happen to be in another province today)
3.  Freezies are a magic cure-all.
4.  Support can come from unexpected places and...
5.  It's time to be a better friend.

OH!  And also,
6.  It may be better to shower before bed rather than in the mroning, because all the bad shit goes down as soon as I turn my back for 5 seconds.  Of course.

Thanks, guys.

my 300th post!

The other day my brother and his wife had to move, so I was given the tremendous opportunity to babysit my sweet little niece Payton.  I was pretty excited.
Payton is almost 5 months old.  She's still a sweet little thing and she is just beginning to develop her own personality - my favourite part of babyhood.
Carter is 13 months old, so in comparison he is almost like a little kid.  Hardly any baby left in him.  So of course part of me is beginning to want another baby.  It's just human woman instinct.  Survival of the species and all that shit.  The need to keep procreating (and forgetting how much pregnancy sucks).
Anyway.
Payton was here and for the first 45 minutes or so, everything was great!  Carter was talking to her, she was smiling, I was starting to think this dual baby thing wasn't so hard after all.
But Carter got jealous.  And once Carter got jealous, there was no keeping the peace.
I couldn't hold the baby without Carter getting all bent out of shape.  He was screaming at me, giving me shit, throwing an absolute fit!  And I couldn't put Payton down because she had gotten hip to the game and decided that she was going to throw a fit if I paid Carter any attention.
So I was bouncing back and forth between crying babies like a pinball.
This went on for such a long time.  I thought I was going to get a break when Carter took a nap but he couldn't take his eyes off Payton.  She stole his mommy.  He was going to have to sleep with one eye open.
Eventually he got over-tired which only made things worse.  So I put him in his crib and let him cry himself to sleep (I never do this!)  And he eventually did.
Then Payton fell asleep.  But she woke up after 20 minutes in a great mood so we hung out and had a great time until my mom came home and saved me from the insanity.
Anyone who knows Carter will tell you that he is not the kind of kid to throw kinipshin fits because he's jealous of another kid.  But they would be wrong.  Because that's exactly what kind of kid he is.

Anyway, I'm just glad I realize now that I don't want to have another baby until Carter is old enough to pour his own cereal.

A Letter To Myself: Calm The Fuck Down

Dear Me,

It's so easy to be unhappy.
It is too easy to look at someone else's life and think: wow, I wish I had the guts, I wish I had those experiences, I wish I had that talent, I wish I had that outlook, I wish I had that job...
It can be especially hard when your brain doesn't really know what it wants, what's best for you or what will make you happy.
It can be hard when your brain just doesn't want you to be happy.
There is a never-ending war going on in your head between what your chemistry naturally does, and what you know you want.  It takes bravery to know the difference.  It takes love for life to actually do something about it.
The thing is... when you are feeling on top of the world, when everything you do feels right and when all you want is to love everyone around you - that is good.  That is real.  That is happiness.  And when you're feeling like you just want to run away and leave everything behind, that is not real.  That is cowardice and sadness catching up with you because you haven't been maintaining yourself appropriately.
Shitty fucking shit happens to everyone.
Everyone has regrets, and everyone wishes they had made the most of the time they had before they carved their future out in stone...

But what you have is magnificent.
Self:  You have made so many bad decisions in your past (granted) and you have come out the other end of all of those bad decisions beautiful, smart, caring and gifted.  Not everyone can say that.
You may wish sometimes that you had explored the world while you had the freedom and opportunity and desire.  You didn't.  and if you truly had wanted to, you would have.
It's easy to feel trapped when you settle down and have a baby and decide to be there every day and be the best parent possible - because that means that you're there no matter what.  That kind of pressure can be overwhelming and you shouldn't feel guilty about feeling it.  But you have always trusted your instincts and your passions and they have led you to the place you are in.  You flew into that cage and you shut the door yourself (and it wasn't easy to do).

You have this incredible boy.
You can see it in him all the time: you.  Little pieces of yourself surface in this itty bitty creature, and he has so much to discover.  Isn't that exciting?  He has to learn so much, and most importantly he has to carve out some sort of self out of this lump of a body that you gave to him.  You gave him this chance to live and to experience and to love in a world where life is decidedly given less and less each day.  You gave birth.  Remember?  Remember the exquisite pain and the car ride to the hospital?  Remember when he came out and didn't cry at all?  The doctors were worried - they didn't let you hold him, remember?  But he was fine, he was great: he was ready to be here.  And you were ready to have him.  Remember when you first looked into his eyes?  You thought he would look so much different.  He was already his own person.

You took him home.  You cried when he would refuse to sleep.  You mixed a million bottles full of formula.  You watched him grow, bang his head on every single thing and you kissed every boo-boo and you changed every poopy diaper.  You were his mommy.  And nobody could have loved him any more than you.  And you know it.

It's so easy to be unhappy when it's what your brain naturally wants to do.  It takes so much more strength and courage to look misery in the eye and tell it to fuck off.  You have made this life, and it is full of love.  It may not include exotic places right now, it may not include a big move to Montreal.  But it includes a home.  It includes the luxury of late nights and glasses of wine.  It includes watching your son learn to walk and talk, and learning that his favourite food is chicken nuggets and his favourite person is his daddy.
His daddy.  That's another thing.  You really made a good decision there.

Relax.  Stay on your meds.  Know that when life gave you lemons, you made lemonade and know that when you were faced with a decision, you made it.  No one else.  And it got you this incredible family, and they're waiting for you to go to bed and make them pancakes in the morning.

You did good.  Calm down.

Well nevermind. We are ugly, but we have the music.

Oh Gawwwwd.

Last night was fun.  I'm lying.
I had a long day, and Carter was being really bitchy.  Really inconsiderate.  I just wanted to watch Skins on the internet (don't make fun of me, I think it's an awesome show) and he kept closing the laptop on me!  I figured he wanted some attention so I tried playing with him.  But every time I picked up one of his toys he took it from me, put it down and got another toy.  He didn't want to play with me.  In the end I figured out that he literally just wanted to irritate me.  When I started preparing his favourite lunch (taters and fried boloney with ketchup!) he just cried and cried and cried.  When he got his lunch he fed it all to the dogs and kept crying.  I had to clean the entire house, of course.  [Side note: mom and dad, the next time you decide to jet-set off to where-ever your hearts desire, put your son up in a hotel for the duration or find another house-sitter because I AM DONE WITH THIS SHIT!]
Ahem.
I was having a rough day.  I painted something that turned out terribly.  My nose started running and still hasn't stopped.  These things tend to add up for me really quickly.  Once one rotten thing happens, the entire day tends to follow suit.  At any rate, when Mike came home I was a demonic psycho war machine.  I just lay on the couch with tissues stuck up my nose and cried and cried and cried.  I really just wanted to watch What The Bleep Do We Know, which Rob lent me like 2 years ago, but it's buried somewhere in a box in the basement (which is why you haven't gotten it back yet, I'm so sorry Robby..) so anyway, my feel-good film was unavailable to me at the time so I did the next best thing.
I lit some candles, lay in bed and listen to Leonard Cohen really really loud.  (It used to be Elliott Smith but I've grown up quite a bit since then, even in my melancholy).  After an hour or so, and maybe some Diazepam, I'm usually fine again.  And this was the case yesterday.  I rolled out of bed after my fit and demanded the remote control.  Ate some tostitos.  Whatever.

But is that any way to live your life?  Just falling spectacularly to shreds every so often and then when it passes, carrying on as such until it happens again?  And again?
This is all a very real symptom of some bigger problem, and I am aware of that.  But I am stuck.  I got with Mike, I got knocked up, and I am stuck here in this life that I made for myself, even when it sometimes makes me really frustrated and a little bit sad.  Don't get me wrong - I can't imagine my life any other way.  But there is something missing.  And I can't just pick up and go find whatever the missing piece is, because my heart is here with Mike and Carter, and everyone knows your body doesn't go really far without your heart.  So.

The point is: I never fully realized who I was before I got pregnant and settled down.  No matter how you dice it, that's something that you are eventually going to regret, no matter how in love you are with your family.

Well, nevermind.  We are ugly, but we have the music.  - Leonard Cohen

Listen to some Cohen.  Listen to his LYRICS.  He is, after all, first and foremost a poet.

why so serious?

I'm sitting at the dining room table right now.  There are helium balloons all over and I wrapped Carter's birthday presents tonight.  I have a good feeling.
I've been feeling very inspired lately.  I read something in O Magazine (I don't normally read that, but I was strangely compelled to this time.  Plus: everything Oprah says is gospel and if you disagree with that - well, who cares?  Certainly not Oprah, I can tell you that).   At any rate.  There was a very interesting piece in there by Martha Beck about how people we despise and people we admire are like mirrors held up to us.  When we obsess over somebody that we really can't stand, it's because we recognize parts of ourselves in them (I think I knew this before) and when we admire or envy someone, it's also because we recognize parts of ourselves in those people as well.  So the article suggested we write a letter to a person we have all kinds of nasty to talk about, and give them the hell you've always wanted to.  And then cross out their name at the top and write your own, and be open to receiving the criticism and work towards bettering yourself.  And also write a letter to someone you greatly admire and - same thing - cross their name out and write your own.  So I did this, and I changed the names of the people I had originally written the letters to so for all you know, I could be writing about you.  mwahahaha... but not really because in the end they are intended for myself.

Sophie
Lindsay,
I have always known that you are entirely self-involved and phony, but it came as a great surprise to me when I found out that you are vindictive and hateful as well as selfish and materialistic.  You pretend to be nice to everyone but have nothing nice to say about anyone in your life when they are not in the room.  You are a gossip.  You are a fraud.  You think that relationships can be sustained through intimidation and the occasional gift of some monetary value.  I think you need a reality check.  I think you are - in the kindest terms I can muster - mentally ill, as well as physically ill.  I could go into the horrible things that you have done to me, but because this is actually an exercise in self-development, it would hardly do any good to do so.  Suffice it to say that I see right through you, and I always have.  It infuriates me that you have no sense of obligation to any sort of truth or honesty about the way you treat people, and I think you may actually believe the bullshit that flies from your face endlessly.  I think it would be best if you spoke as little as possible - that way, you may be able to keep some love in your very wasted life.
Lindsay.

[ouch, right?  I know.  And after I changed the name at the top and read it as if it were written by someone else to me, I realized that I have a lot of hatred in my heart.  I take the relationships in my life for granted.  I am a gossip (this blog proves that).  I have struggled with mental illness.  I can be a fraud.  I am a lot of the things that I hate so much in somebody else.  I lack a capacity for forgiveness.  Again, ouch.  But now for the more pleasant letter....]

Mildred
Lindsay,
Ever since the day I met you I wanted to be just like you.  There is something in your personality that suggests a vacation from the mundane, that suggests anyone can live whatever sort of life they please.  And you inspired me.  You don't think anything is impossible.  You're incredibly brave.  Where lesser beings would wallow in loneliness and boredom, you have always pulled your boots on and sought adventure in everything.  You are incapable of being bored.  You pull everyone into your gravitational pull and make complete strangers fall in love with you because you make them want to become more creative and brave themselves.  While your capacity for love is endless, you are also wise enough and courageous enough to accept that not everyone can be the same as you.  Thank you for slipping away from big cities to teach yourself (and me) that no journey is wasted if it brought you closer to who you want to be, and that no one can be angry if you check out of life for a while to remember what it is about it that you love in the first place.  Your fierce uniqueness and never-ending desire to cultivate your ever-hippie soul have always made me model myself on your example.  I will always love you, even if we get into another fight that lasts another year and a half - or however long it was.
Lindsay.

[I don't have a whole lot of commentary on that one, but it did make me cry, and I hope that the person I originally wrote it for is able to recognize herself in those words, because they are all true.]


I recommend you all try this.

Lindsay and Existentialism.

Sometimes I look at the wrinkle that's forming on my forehead and say to myself, "My God.  You're 24 years old.  And you still feel like you're 18", and I do.  I do still feel 18.  And if it weren't for this hideous wrinkle I wouldn't even have had to face this scary reality: I'm not much of an adult at all.  I feel like all the other people are adults, but I am just walking around in disguise as an adult.  I'm just faking it.  But if you look hard enough, it's easy to see that everyone else is just pretending too.
How do you grow up?  I want to know because, in a traditional sense, I really haven't made anything of myself.  Probably because I'm not a very big believer in formal education.  I did the University thing, I did the community college thing, and hated every minute of both.  It was a total waste of time and money.  Try as I might, I couldn't squeeze into that disguise.  A post-secondary education is perfect for some people, but for me it was just an aggravation.  I never felt challenged.  I never made friends.  As far as making it in the world goes - I believe that success depends wholly on personality and outlook on life.
Think about it: why have job interviews?  So that employers can get a feel for who you are and what you're about.  If they like the cut of your jib (so to speak) you're in.  It doesn't really matter what your resume says, but what you respond to their ridiculous questions with (what is your biggest weakness?  'I work way too hard', for example).  I have no patience for this shit.  When you start thinking about things they way they really are, and peel away the layers of collagenous bullshit surrounding every social interaction, it makes you a pessimistic know-it-all.  Like me.  I am famously unemployable.  I don't respond well to authority, I don't take menial tasks very seriously, I don't believe in beating around the bush, pretending to be nice, I don't think customers are ever right, and I don't think anybody should have to waste their life working at a job that they don't completely love.
So.  There.  And potential employers who happen upon this blog: I'm sorry, but there it is.
I have come to realize that I must come up with something.  I have to find some way to make my way in the world (and make money for my family) without having to try to fit into this role that I just can't manage to fit into.  It is a waste of time and resources just trying to make that way of life work for me when it does so clearly not.
When I think of times I was genuinely myself, these times are when I am at my most alone.  I used to buy flowers for myself ($50 bouquets!), I used to spray paint my furniture, I walked dogs just to avoid having to work around other human beings, this is when I thrived.
And at other times in my life, I have felt like the most adult person I know!  Conflicts with family members have brought me to a place of peace and acceptance.  I have apologized for my part in fights and I have lost relationships that I held precious all my life, despite having done nothing to hurt the other person.  What can you do?  I have come to realize that no matter how hard you try, you cannot cling on to a person who has moved on and no longer wants you.  People will outgrow you.  People will change. You're going to lose everyone, at some point, to circumstances you cannot control.  It's sad but it's a very real truth.  I have also learned that apologizing does not mean that you were wrong and the other person was right: not always.  Sometimes it just means that you value your relationship more than they do.  Another sad reality of adult life.
Fuck it - I don't want to be a grown up.

Simple Men

Mike is a pretty simple guy.  He doesn't require a whole lot of attention, he has no need for expensive things, and he watches way more television than he ought to.  And when it comes to meals, Mike likes to keep things especially simple.  So sometimes I get frustrated when I make something really fancy and time-consuming and he says something like "shake'n bake would've been fine".  It pisses me off, actually.  But my inner Julia Child only likes to come out to play every once in a while.  I go through phases all the time, because I insist on discovering new and exciting things about myself every day.  So that phase is over and done with.  Now I just eat rice pudding.  Or donuts.  Or Baba Ghanouj.  Or nothing at all because I'm too lazy to be bothered with anything.
So it's times like these when I appreciate Mike's simplicity most; because while other men would come home and expect to find me in a french maid outfit and basting the golden turkey, Mike doesn't bat an eyelash when he comes home and I'm in my pajamas and there's no food to be found.  He doesn't complain - even though just the other day I made something complicated and scrumptious.
So I have entered a new phase: the bare-minimum-but-still-enough-to-make-him-happy phase.  Weiners and beans with toast.  Kraft dinner and ketchup.  And tonight: sloppy joes.  Mike got as excited as any 7 year old would.
So pour me a glass of the boxed wine and enjoy this phase, because very soon I will be entering the Indian food phase.  And Mike will not like that.  Not at all, I suspect.

Trouble Sleeping

Can't sleep.

My mind is racing.  I keep thinking about our house hunt: what can we afford?  How long will we live there?  Will we get a dog?  What will we name the dog?  What's my decorating style?  Shelves or cupboards in the kitchen?  Shelves are cheaper and they're kind of trendy right now...
I'm also thinking about the house I fell in love with that we let slip through our fingers.  It was beautiful but it needed work that two broke, working parents of a baby just can't finish in a timely manner.  I hope that whoever buys the house keeps the claw-footed bathtub and doesn't change the hardword flooring.  It's old but that's part of its charm.
I'm also thinking a lot about my boss's boyfriend, for some reason.  My boss is married but her husband had a stroke 6 years ago and she still lives with him and takes care of him (and runs his business and broke him out of a nursing home because he wanted to go home..) but she has a boyfriend on the side.  Everyone at the bar hates him but I have decided to like him.  In the face of dozens of loyal bar-flies who would love nothing more than to bang his woman and shoot him in the head, he stays and takes care of the bar with her.  He keeps her company.  He looks after her and he loves her.  So I have decided that the situation isn't as gruesome and creepy as everyone else sees it.  It's kind of sweet.  I like the boyfriend.  So there.
And why have I been eating nothing but donuts and baba ghanouj?  For the last week, I've been eating a steady diet of boston cream donuts, tea, toasted pita dipped in babe ghanouj and the occasional plate of french fries covered with ketchup and a ton of salt at work.  Something's gotta change.  But I love the donuts.  My emotions have been in overdrive and I have been eating my feelings.  I'll admit that.  I am such a fat girl on the inside.
I have been growing increasingly obsessed with split ends.
I flip my hair and pick through it endlessly, searching for, and yanking out, strands of hair that are fraying at the ends.  I've been getting headaches as a result.  But I can't stop.  And I don't want to get a haircut because the last time I got worried about split ends I ended up with two inches left on my head and everyone thought I was a lesbian.  Yeesh.  What to do, what to do...
Well, that's an update for you.  Oh!  My family doctor is sending me to a psychiatrist to find out just what exactly is wrong with me (and has been for years now) so that's an exciting development!
And I haven't seen my brother in a week, because we got in a huge fight and now I don't know where he is.  I still don't like him very much, but I hope he's safe and showering regularly.

Goodnight, all.

Things I Wish I'd Known

• If you don't eat vegetables, you will have a hard time trying to poop.
• You can make any drink or dessert fancy and luxurious with just one thing: whipped cream.
• It's a good idea to be measured every time you go bra shopping.
• The best lipstick shades are the ones within 2 or 3 shades of your natural lip colour.
• A real friend is one you can go months without speaking with while still knowing that they think of you and love you.
• Try not to depend on anyone else unless you absolutely have no choice.
• People like you more when you don't give a shit.
• Don't trash another person when they're not around just so you can fit in - what goes around comes around.
• Everyone will disappoint you; it's important to forgive.
• Never buy something just because someone else looks great in it
• When you tolerate mistreatment, you're making yourself look like an idiot.
• Nothing is sexier than a woman who is comfortable in her clothes.
• When there is nothing else to discuss on a date - bring up Neil Young.
• You can never really know another person.
• A cup of tea can alleviate 75% of all problems.
• A glass of wine can alleviate 99%.
• You will always wish you travelled more.
• Loving yourself seems easy but will take a lifetime to truly cultivate
• When grown up problems have you miserable, read a children's book (I recommend The Little Prince)
• You may lose control over your thoughts and feelings, and you may feel hopeless and alone, but it will always pass.
• Get used to the idea of dying early on.
• If there is a God, you will not find Him in a church.
• Trust one person completely.
• Home is where you decide to make it.
• Don't abandon your hobbies, regardless of how busy you are
• Love is worth the heartbreak and experience is worth the risk of failure.
• Quality over Quantity.
• Less is always more.
• If you have to cry, go outside.
• Always carry a 20 dollar bill.
• Talk to old people, they have a lot to offer.
• You may need medication.  Take it and don't be embarrassed.
• Treat your body the way your lover treats your body.
• Mothers usually do know best.  But not always.
• Don't be so polite.  Nobody else is anyway.

The Handyman Debacle.

It's a miracle we don't kill and eat our lovers.
It's like we have a limitless capacity to handle their stupidity and all around inconsideration.  At least I do, and that's odd considering what little patience I have for the human race, in general.
I thought, since Mike and I will have been together for 2 years later this month, that it would be super swell of me to get us on the finale of Canada's Worst Handyman (he loves this show), which I managed to do.  Now, since he told everybody he knew to watch that one episode of that Debbie Travis All For One shit in which his face appeared for a total of 3 seconds, that he would be pretty pumped about being on TV.  I patted myself on the back and wore a smug look of defiant self-satisfaction for the entire morning.  Then I texted Mike and told him.  I got back "wtf.  i dont no if i want to b on tv".

Really?  This is what we're doing?  We are going to piss all over my efforts and pretend that we're not a total HAM?  Fucking guy.  Fucking asshole.  Un fucking believable.

I was crestfallen.  And once he got home he barely mentioned it.  I began to hate him.  I began to hate his footsteps in the kitchen and his stupid face and his stupid voice suggesting that we get to Zellers before it closes, bla bla fucking bla.  I bottled this all up inside while still managing to give him my most convincing "I'm never having sex with you again" dance.
Aaaand of course he didn't catch on.
So here I am, wasting so much time (hours, in fact) trying so hard to win a fight that Mike has no idea that we're even having, and I eventually spontaneously combust into heaving, snotty wales of absolute misery.  Mike still has no idea what's going on.  This was in the car, by the way.

And after a big long pointless fight, Mike still has no idea how to handle this backhanded insult to my romantic efforts.  I pretty much thought I was the greatest girlfriend/fiancee/wife that ever walked the planet and he just didn't give a shit.  Not that he's coming up with any better ideas.

Anyway.  We fight once in a while.  The air in the basement is thick with awkward hostility and poorly disguised chagrin.  But the beautiful thing about us is: I know this won't matter at all in 9 days, when I drag him to Niagara Falls to be on the final episode of Canada's Worst Handyman regardless of how unsure he is that he wants to be on TV.  That's bullshit too, I hope you know.  He would love to be on TV.  And he would love you and everyone you know to watch it.  Just you wait.

The post in which I begrudgingly admit that I still need a little work (on the inside)...

I've given the whole New Years Resolution thing a lot of thought.

And I have decided that it is bullshit.

After careful consideration, I have come to the conclusion that I could not attempt to be any better than I already am, because it would be futile and would only result in disappointment.

Okay, I have one resolution: let go of the anger.

Here's a secret: I am a very angry lady.  And I can hold a grudge with the best of them.  But when I make a mistake, I expect others to forgive me.  Albeit, some things are completely unforgivable and I refuse to even entertain the thought, but I should probably stop thinking about all the shitty things that have been done to me and focus on the good things that happen every day.
For instance, Carter is saying mama all the time now.  *Insert big, shit eating grin here*
Oh, and I still love my job (and my 2 week hiatus).
Mike is a wonderful guy whose expectations of me remain startlingly low.  Thank God.
I had a very Chanel Christmas.  That was awesome.
Yes, good things happen all the time.  So I need to let go of the anger.
I will not harbour negative thoughts.  My mind is a peaceful, tranquil sea of calm happiness.

I'm still angry.  Maybe I will just shut up about it from now on.  Yes.  Good plan.

So anyway, yeah, fuck resolutions!  Things are going great just the way they are.
Except I am still in this basement.
Maybe in 2011 I should consider working more.  Working harder.  Saving money.
Yes.  Another good plan.

Alright, maybe I'm not perfect.  But at least I've got love.  And Chanel.

Farewell To You and the Youth I Have Spent With You.

Maybe when I was a little girl I idealized you.  Maybe I was just in denial of what you really were.  Are, actually.  This Christmas is going to be a little different from years of past, but at least it will be an honest Christmas.  This year, I won't be sitting amongst people I don't even know, and people who consider me unimportant.  Sheep's clothing for Christmas, wrapped up with a little bow...
I will be spending Christmas with the people who love me, and the people who show me every day that I'm important to them.  I will be drinking lots of wine, singing lots of songs, and it will be the happiest day of my life because I will be sharing it with my son, and all the people he has grown to love.  And those people are lucky to have his love.
I will never again so easily trust, and no one will have the opportunity to try and ruin my life ever again.  Yours is not a world that I recognize.  I can't walk around pretending the way you can.  Pretending everything's fine.  Pretending I love my family.  Pretending I'm not the loneliest and saddest woman on the face of the Earth.  I will never pretend.  I will tell evil people that they are evil.  I will stay home if I don't feel like seeing someone's disgustingly fake smiling face "How ARE yooooou?"  And I will never come to another Christmas gathering with you again.  And when everyone starts dwindling away, and Carter and I are still here, you will have wished that you stood up for what was right when you had the chance.  But now it's clear I never knew you at all.  When I was a little girl, I actually thought you hung the moon.
But kids are stupid.

6 Types of Toxic Friends and How to Deal with Them - From iVillage.

I needed some advice.

1. The Promise Breaker
This friend constantly disappoints you or breaks promises, most likely because she herself was constantly disappointed during her formative years. Your friend is unable to stop herself from repeating that pattern. It is an annoying but comfortable pattern for your friend, and without psychological help, it may be hard for her or him to alter this pattern. You could abandon the friend and the friendship, or you could find a way to detach yourself by lowering your expectations for this friendship. If she promises to do something for you, even to meet you for a cup of coffee, you can say, "Sure," but protect yourself by knowing, in the back of your mind, that this friend "nine times out of 10" is going to cancel on you.

Although your friend may always have been this way, she may have also recently acquired this trait because of something she is going through right now. If a friend who has always been there for you, through thick and thin, has only recently become less reliable, you might want to cut her some slack. You have to decide if this is a lifelong trait that will be hard or impossible to change, a temporary condition that will be short-lived, or something, if it does continue indefinitely, that you are willing to accept and handle.

One way to try to change the Promise Breaker is to help her to understand the consequences of your ignored pledges. Perhaps you have been keeping your disappointments about this to yourself. Try telling her how it makes you feel. "Of course, I'll understand that you're not in the mood to drive over, but I was really looking forward to our visit." Perhaps she is unaware that this is a pattern rather than an isolated incident. "Yes, of course, I understand, but do you realize this is the fourth time in as many weeks that you've backed out on something you promised to do with me?"

If you want to continue your friendship with the Promise Breaker, make sure you reconfirm any plans at least once or even right before you are supposed to meet. If you have a cell phone or beeper, make sure your friend is able to contact you so at least you won't be left waiting if, once again, she cancels a meeting. Have "back-up" for any promises your friend makes; at least if the Promise Breaker disappoints you again, you won't be as inconvenienced by it.

The next time she promises something, try saying, "Yeah, right." When she gets angry at your sarcasm, explain that you are simply pointing out her habit of breaking her promises. Then reframe it in a more positive vein by saying, "Prove me wrong. This time, keep your promise."

2. The Double-crosser
This negative friend betrays you big-time. It could happen when someone does something to hurt you, such as spreading a malicious rumor about you. Or it could be an emotional double-cross; for example, when a close or best friend stops speaking to you and you never find out why. That's what happened to Jill, who is now 47. Although angry words were never exchanged between Jill and her friend, the silence, the betrayal of their commitment to be friends and to share, was just as real as any harmful action. Jill explains:

"She was the only real friend I ever had. I didn't make friends easily. I wasn't allowed to have friends. When I got to high school, I met Dale and we became very close. The one time I ran away, I ran to her house. It was a very special friendship. We went to nursing school together. Then one day she met another girl.... About a week later, she stopped speaking to me. I'd call her; she'd hang up on me. I'd write to her; she'd return the letters, unopened."

Ten years later, they resumed their friendship, although they still have never discussed why Dale stopped calling. The wounds from her friend's emotional double-crossing are there, however. "We're close, but not as close," Jill explains. But then she qualifies her description of her friendship with Dale as "close." "For me, for the type of person I am, it's close. For somebody like my sister, it's not close."

The double-cross could be something even more concrete, like the betrayal experienced by 43-year-old Susan, a homemaker. Susan was betrayed by a married close family friend who was attracted to her sister:

"He continued to express his desire and love for her, and when she insisted that he put an end to the numerous phone messages at her office and she told him of her disgust at this attitude, he turned around and told his wife that my sister was coming on to him. It was a real fatal attraction. I personally phoned him and ended our friendship. I'm talking real betrayal. Our family felt totally betrayed by this man, whom we had all known since childhood."

Susan shares other betrayals, by another friend: "One of my girlfriends is now using my sister and myself as an alibi while she carries on extramarital affairs. This is very upsetting. She has also repeated some things to another friend which were said to her in confidence." This second friend is putting Susan in a compromising position, and possibly even an ethical bind, over the cover-up of her extramarital affairs. By blabbing privileged information, she is also acting like the Discloser (described below).

The Double-crosser may have some real emotional issues that need to be addressed if you are to continue a friendship with her. If your friend was betrayed by a parent or sibling during her formative years, she may have a need to repeat that behavior with her friends. The betrayal could have been as subtle as being disappointed by her parents or as blatant as being the victim of emotional, physical, or sexual abuse. Your friend may need outside help to reverse the cycle she is in, of doing to others what was done to her.

If you have been double-crossed by a particular friend, you may want to consider ending the friendship. If you have not been directly harmed by this friend but have evidence that she has hurt others, you have to decide if you are risking too much by maintaining the friendship.

If you do decide to walk away from this friendship, do it in a low-key way that avoids incurring the wrath of the Double-crosser. You do not want to be her or his next victim.

3. The Self-absorbed
Certainly the Self-absorbed is a tamer type of negative friend than the Risk-taker. Still, especially over the long haul, a friend who does not make the time to listen to you will eat away at your self-esteem. For you to feel good about yourself, and for your friendship to thrive, you have to be more than a sounding board. The Self-absorbed does not care; she listens to you only because she is waiting to speak.

Self-absorbed chatter is a way of covering up an inability to tolerate silence which some, especially those who have intimacy problems, may find excruciating. You may ask your friend to try to become more aware that she is talking non-stop, and about herself, when it's really a nervous habit designed to fill up the time and space. Could your friend learn to relax more? Enjoy silence? Learn how to ask questions so that you don't feel like a dumping ground?

Once again, is this a trait your friend is aware of and choosing to ignore, or is she unaware of it but once aware of it, she will be capable of changing it? If change is not possible, is there enough that is positive about this friendship that you are willing to continue it even if it is decidedly lopsided?

Perhaps, in a gentle and non-offensive way, you could ask the Self-absorbed friend if she seems to notice that the give-and-take is unequal, that she shares more about her life than you get to share about yours.

With the Self-absorbed friend, you might want to plan an activity to share that minimizes this problem, such as playing tennis, going to the movies, or taking a class. You might want to carefully consider sitting next to the Self-Absorbed on a five-hour train ride or having lengthy meals together, just the two of you. As with the One-upper, whose profile revolves around excessive jealousy, involving more friends with the Self-absorbed might help to offset her nervousness as well as create some additional 'air times' that will even out the balance of power.

4. The Discloser
When you say to this friend, "This is just between us," she nods her head but unfortunately that promise will last only as long as it takes her to get to her phone or e-mail. Although there should be an assumption of confidentiality and trust between friends, this friend can't help herself. Telling this person a secret makes her feel vulnerable and uncomfortable. Like the game "hot potato," she has to pass the hot secret along to someone else in order to relieve the anxiety knowing the secret made her feel. There are also some Disclosers who simply have a big mouth. If someone you know has this personality trait, avoid telling her your innermost secret -- unless you don't mind if it's shared with the world.

This friend quickly gets a reputation for being a gossip. Unfortunately, there may be some secondary gains to having that distinction. Maybe the primary friend is annoyed by the betrayal and the secret sharing, but everyone else, including other friends, may be delighted by the confidential information that is being shared.

You also have to be sure that your friend understands that you consider the information that you are sharing should always be confidential or secret. Spreading the news that you just got a raise or are expecting a child may seem like information that is fair game for retelling. If it is something you do not want retold, or if you want to be the one retelling it, let your friend know before you mislabel her the Discloser.

How do you know if someone will betray your confidence? If you suspect someone has this trait, share an unimportant secret that you could live with her spreading and see how fast or widespread the confidence is shared.

If you suspect that your friend is unaware that he or she discloses secrets, start by bringing this behavior out in the open. Pick a specific instance when your friend revealed a confidence, and see if he or she acknowledges his or her transgression. Does he or she apologize? Does he or she deny doing it? Does he or she ask your forgiveness, explaining that he or she was unaware the information was privileged?

If you suspect your friend is incapable of changing this pattern and you want to maintain the friendship, protect yourself by being more careful about exactly what information you share. You might also want to reconsider the level of intimacy for this friendship; if you want to maintain your relationship, perhaps it should be on a less frequent or less confidential basis.

5. The Competitor
A little bit of competition is healthy and to be expected. An appropriate amount of competition will motivate and stimulate. But too much competition between friends starts to destroy the friendship. One of the primary ingredients in a positive friendship is that one or both friends feel that they can be "themselves" and that they don't have to put on airs or impress one another. Competition implies a race in which one wins and the other loses; those conditions are quite the opposite of what someone typically expects in a positive friendship, especially a close or best one.

Friends who are competitors probably compete in every area of their lives and find it difficult or impossible to ease up even when it comes to close or best friends. They may compete at work, at school, and even in community affairs. They may be in competition with their spouses or romantic partners, or even with their parents or their children, The Competitor may find this distinctive personality trait hard or impossible to change or eradicate.

You can help the situation, however, by trying to avoid setting up overly competitive situations. For instance, if you share about a success in your personal life or career, especially if you ease into bragging, you may be unwittingly setting off an "I'll show you" reaction.

Helping to heighten the Competitor's awareness about this tendency might help her to deal with this proclivity. If you do want to share something that you think will propel her into a "me too" reaction, you could preface your comments with, "Let me just share something with you without it having anything to do with you, okay?"

The onus for changing the Competitor's behavior, however, is on her; developing a better self-image will diminish her need to compete with everything you say or do.

If you wish to stay friends with the Competitor, you may have to be willing to listen to her brags and boasts far more often than you can share your own.

6. The Fault-finder
Nothing you do, say, or wear is good enough for this overly critical friend. The Fault-finder was probably raised by extremely judgmental parents who were also rearing equally hypercritical siblings. Being criticized during her formative years laid the groundwork for an overly critical adult. It's a hard trait to reverse, and your friend may even be unaware that she is so critical or that it annoys and upsets you so much. Before labeling this type of friendship as hopelessly destructive, you might want to see if your friend could recognize this excessively derogatory behavior and, with time and help, change that orientation. Otherwise, you may decide that you just have to accept this trait in your friend and realize that it reflects on her, not on you or your friendship.

If you value this friend and want to try to maintain the friendship despite the Fault-finder's criticisms, try sharing with him or her how his or her behavior makes you feel. "I know you like me, and I know you may not even mean to make me feel bad, but when you find fault in everything I say or do, it makes me feel bad about myself." He or she might get defensive, even saying it's "your problem," not his or hers. But if you emphasize how the Fault-finder's behavior impacts on you, it may help him or her to reassess what he or she is saying or doing without having to be "right." Furthermore, by sharing how it makes you feel, you may be less resentful if you decide you are willing to put up with the Fault-finder.

However, if you are at your wit's end and willing to try one more thing before calling it quits, try finding fault in the Fault-finder. Those who criticize and find fault are often unable to take it from others. If you do criticize the Fault-finder, it may break the spell of negativity that is now allowing this friend to say and do anything toward you. When the shoe is on the other foot, she may suddenly have an "ah-ha" awareness of what it feels like to others. But beware: The Fault-finder might cut off your friendship forever rather than deal with your criticisms or even try to understand the larger message you are trying to convey.

Read more: http://www.ivillage.com/6-types-toxic-friends-and-how-you-can-deal-them/4-a-283671#ixzz16aqufGXx
Sign up for iVillage Health Special Offers

Skinna-Ma-Rinky-Dinky-Dink

Nagging.

All relationships have their challenges.
But I don't know how to handle ours.
I feel like if we didn't have Carter so soon, maybe we would have gotten a better chance to get to know each other and we'd be able to yell at each other when we want to yell at each other.
But you can't yell at each other when you have a baby.
This brings on so much more stress and aggrivation for me because I can't just let things slide.  When Mike hurts my feelings or pisses me off, I honestly can't just brush it off and go to sleep.
So I'm up blogging about it.

Don't get me wrong.  He's excellent and I love him more than you could know; but I often feel like he doesn't respect me as much as I respect him.
When I ask him to do things, he never does.  Not until I have nagged and nagged and nagged.  I don't want to nag.  I just want him to do the things he says he will do instead of say "okay, I will" again and again until I finally just do it myself.  I was gonna do that!  I bet you were.  And when you have to harp on someone for days to do a simple chore, that person just gets to thinking that you're a miserable bitch who loves to nag constantly.  They don't realize that the baby is going to pull the bookshelves onto himself and die if this doesn't get done!!!
I'm just doing a little bit of venting.  Mike is asleep and we won't ever even discuss this, because we won't even speak until sometime tomorrow night; and if I bring it up tomorrow night, that just makes me a nag.

sigh.  All relationships have their challenges.

I Deleted Facebook!

I've had a lot of time for reflection lately.
I got a new job and it made me happier (which I didn't think would happen).  When I leave for those few hours ever day, I get on the bus alone.  I ride around listening to Regina Spektor on my ipod.  And then I hang out with some happy little children before going home to spend the evening with my little family.  Gone just long enough to miss them, and no longer.  It's the happiest I have been in years.  Considerably happier than when I was bar tending, or waitressing, or getting drunk and coming home alone.
It can get easy - especially when you have social anxiety coupled with clinical depression - to shut yourself away and never put yourself out there because it scares you.  And as happy as I would be to just spend the rest of my life at home with my baby, I realize now that eventually the little light would have gone out.  The little light that awesome people have inside of them.  Yeah, I just called myself awesome.  Get over it.  I am.

I think the most miserable thing about working in bars would have to be that anybody who hangs out in bars enough for a bar tender or waitress to know personal details about them, is just pathetic.  Hear me out - I enjoy being a regular at a cute little wine bar as much as the next gal, but never alone and never for more than a couple of drinks.  Bar flies are lacking in the things that fuel my very spirit: inspiration and beauty.  My few days of intense reflection have resulted in an epiphany: I need to be surrounded by people with a little light within.  Hence the children at the after-school program.  Kids always have a little light.

So if there is anything I want for Carter, it is for him to nourish his soul.  To keep inspiration close at hand and to never shut himself away from beautiful things just because there is so much ugly in the world - and there is SO much ugly in the world.  But a glass of wine over funny stories shared with a missed friend, or an unexpected phone call from across the country from someone you love, that good stuff is worth treading through life's disgustinghatesludge for.

to the haters:

Look.  This is my blog and this is where I write whatever I want to write and you guys read it.  And most of you like it!  I'm happy that I inspire others and make them laugh and I am honoured that people read it every day.

That being said, if you see something on my blog that you don't like you can always e-mail me with your issue, and we can deal with it like adults.  I further want to add I never drop first and last names in my blog for privacy reasons - so that no one can get offended if I write about them.

Now, some of my readers are friends with this evil, disgusting waste of life that I am unfortunately related to.  She's a nutcase and she posts a million comments in my blog pretending to be other people.  She's a crazy psychopath war machine and that's why I don't communicate with her.  She makes me sick, and she makes a lot of other people sick too, but they don't tell her that because they are terrified of her.  But I am not.  I know her type and I learned how to deal with them when I was 16.  If you are silly enough to be in this specific person's life - that's your problem.  Keep your dog on a leash and stay the fuck off my blog if you don't like what it says.  I don't value the opinion of this moronic child but if YOU do, then you listen to her all you want.

This blog isn't here to start family feuds.  It isn't here for you to all get together and gossip about me.  It's here for me and the readers who love to read it.  So if you have come here with ill-intentions and rude shit to say, you can go and fuck yourself because you're never going to ruin my day.  No matter how hard you try.

PS I know who you are and I would block you from this blog if I wanted to but all your hatred has done is bring in more readers.  So Thank you for that.  And get lost.

To my valued readers: I love you and I hope you keep reading my blog.  You guys have inspired me and you have been good to me and I intend on returning the favour.  I HAVE READERS IN MALAYSIA WHAT WHAT!  Yeah.  I'm popular.

Umm, untitled.

If you read this regularly, you know that I have a lot to complain about.
Some people are okay, but for the most part I want to poison them all.
So it is important for me to, every once in a while, take stock of all the good things that surround me all the time.
Actually, that's important for everybody, as I tend to ruin everybody else's day if I'm having a bad one.
But here are some things that are just great:

• Emptying the lint trap in the washing machine when it's really, really linty.
• The smell of Carter's breath.
• Getting a new issue of Vogue and sniffing it first thing
• Scented candles that smell like food: ginger, pumpkin, vanilla...
• Painting.  Who cares if you suck.
• A good book that you found at a Goodwill.
• Being right.  About anything.  Especially when your mother is wrong.
• Snail mail.
• A glass of wine.
• A phone call from a missed friend.
• The look on Carter's face when his daddy comes home
• A cup of tea.
• Hitting a fly with the swatter.
• Picnics.
• A cigarette when you're drunk
• Beirut (the band)
• lipstick
• Cuddling
• baby farts
• When Mike is silly
• Home made pancakes
• Reality TV
• Chicken nuggets and honey
• Carter's laugh

a screamer, just like mommy (get you mind out of the gutter)

So.
Carter's got this new thing.  And I am always excited when Carter gets a new thing.  But this time I'm a little less thrilled, because his new thing is
SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS FOR NO REASON!!!
It's awful.  We'll just be sitting on the couch and then, out of nowhere, he will just scream. And scream.  And scream and scream and I have to miss, like, 10 minutes of an awesome movie that I'm watching.  He's not crying, mind you.  He's just opening his mouth and screaming.  Because he likes the sound of his screams, I guess?
When we put him to bed now, we have to listen to him scream himself to sleep.  Literally.  He will scream until he passes out.
It's awful, but at the same time I have never seen anything so adorable.  My little boy just sitting there screaming until he's blue.  It's cute.
The thing that's cutest about it is that he gets that from me.
He has to!  Mike is the calmest man ever.  I have never heard him scream.  Seriously, never.  But I come from a long line of big mouths.  And I spent my entire childhood screeching and screaming.  I must have been the most annoying little demon troll people had ever seen.
And my dad?  The sound of his speaking voice rivals the volume of most men's yells.  This is one of his more endearing qualities.  It can be pretty cute.  Except for when he's drunk, because then he's usually insulting you loud enough for the neighbours down the street to hear, unbeknownst to him.
And now there's wee Carter.  Who, as I am typing this, is in his crib screaming.  Not crying.  Just screaming.  You can actually hear that he is beginning to lose his voice a tiny bit.  But he doesn't mind.  He couldn't be happier than to just scream.  All day long.
This is my life at the moment.  It has been for a few days.  The phase hasn't passed yet.  And if he is anything like his mother, then it isn't a phase at all.  He may spend the rest of his life screaming contentedly.

big changes in plan

I decided...
because I don't want to plan a wedding and because I don't want to invite people I don't like (which is most people)
we are going to get married at the little place on Lundy's lane in Niagara Falls, the one we drove past in our limo on prom night and I announced I wanted to get married in it.
It seems like the right thing to do.  I want the marriage, not the wedding.
Afterwards, I thought we could just have a big party.  Everybody could bring some food, I could decorate the place the way I want to, and everyone I care about can join us and have a good time to celebrate.
But that's all I want.  And then we can go to Cuba.  Or Cuba before the wedding.  Whatever.
I don't have any interest in being close with extended family members anymore.  And because I won't play favourites, I don't want any of them at my wedding.  This is the best way to keep me from having to plan a frigging wedding, and the only thing that I can imagine not pissing off all of the assholes I refuse to invite.
Does anyone really want haters at their wedding?
My wedding is a privilege, dammit!  You have to work to get that invite!

But the party.  Parties are for everyone.  Parties are fun.