Welcoming 2012, standing on my own two feet. Bring it on!

A year of heartache, disappointment, fear and “newness” is behind me.

I started my New Years celebrations by going to a wedding of all things.  Surrounded by love, promises and new beginnings.  Even though my heart has been broken, I still believe in love and second chances.  I witnessed it first hand at this wedding.

I took my BFF of 28 years with me as my date.  I knew that I could make a fool of myself and she wouldn’t care.  I also knew she would get me home safe and not expect a good night kiss in return. 

I got a wee bit tipsy (ok, drunk), danced my ass off, had a young man ask me if I wanted to continue the party at the bar with him (to which I declined by slurring “you are waaaay too young for all this action”) and ended the night by falling flat on my ass in my garden.  Not a bad start. 

When I woke up this morning, I looked like a Ke$ha video reject…makeup smudged, hair full of what I think may be remnants of wedding appetizers, blood shot eyes and rose petals stuck to my body in various places. 

One thing I did not consider was the oil change appointment I made for my car…at 9am the morning following my drunken shananigans.

Yes, I made it to the appointment, yes, the guy at the desk was super cute and yes I felt like hell.  There I sat, voice hoarse, smelling like a bar, waiting for my car.

In a waiting room with 12 other empty chairs, a guy has to come in and sit in the one right next to me.  WTF, people…stop doing that.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he decides to start a conversation with me.  Oh come on!    Since my voice is hoarse from drinking and singing, he asks me if I have a cold.  I say “no, I am hungover” hoping he will leave me alone.  I keep reading O Magazine.

Nope…on he goes about Christmas, New Years, what he had for breakfast, the last time he was hungover, etc…

After the initial irritation wore off, I realized, he was kind of cute and without a wedding ring.  Great!  Hungover, stinking like a bar room floor and looking as fantastic as one can look after wiping out in the garden and sleeping in her clothes, I could be sitting next to a potential victim, ummm I mean date.

He told me I had nice eyes (apparently bloodshot works for me)  We chatted until my car was ready and I was kind of disappointed when they told me I was all ready to go.

I never did get his name, but it’s nice to know that even at my worst, I am worth a conversation.

Who needs therapy or self help books?

One of the best things I got for Christmas didn’t come from a store.  The kids complied a list of reasons why they love me.

Here it is:

Why we love our mama!  (yes they call me mama)

·      She is a good sweeper.  Our floors are always clean

·      She can read and write

·      She plays on the floor with us and never complains her back hurts

·      She is a good painter

·      She is a good cooker

·      She is funny and silly and makes us laugh

·      She is cute and cuddly, but not like a panda…those things will rip your face off

·      She is super smart and always answers our questions, even hard ones

·      She is organized and always knows where our stuff is

·      She is good at raising children (we highly recommend her)

·      She is good at wiping bums when I can’t reach.  Even bums of my friends who have trouble in the bathroom

·      She has good taste in friends (she knows who is worthy of her goodness)

·      She is good at sinus rinsing

·      She is nice

·      She makes sure we never lick a knife

·      She knows how to use her angry eyes instead of yelling

·      She is calm and peaceful

·      She is good at making magic potions

·      She is good at making stink bombs that really stink

·      She is not too girly

·      She is not afraid to try new things

·      She makes the best cookies and lets us help even if we are messy

·      She is the best at tucking in

·      She always wakes us up by saying “good morning little peanuts”

·      She is the best story teller…dramatic in the right places and never spits when she reads

·      She always knows where the sales are

·      She is bouncy

·      She doesn’t think our snotty noses are gross

·      She doesn’t let us eat play doh even though it’s non toxic

·      She has the moves like Jagger when we kitchen dance after supper

·      She always knows what herbal remedy to use

·      She is a tree hugger and teaches us about nature when we go hiking

·      She is not afraid to hold toads and thinks they are cool

·      She sings really loud in the car

·      She is responsible and doesn’t always give us what we want

·      She trusts us to make good choices, even when I ride my bike to the corner and she can’t see me from the driveway

·      She always tells us to just be ourselves

·      She isn’t afraid to catch our barf when we are sick

·      She never says no when we climb into her bed in the middle of the night

·      She is patient and helps us understand things that are hard

·      She is not afraid of scary basement noises or when the lights go out in a storm

·      She makes great fairy gardens

·      She believes in magic

·      She looks at us when we are talking to her

·      She plays in the rain with us

·      She teaches us to be grateful

·      She is the best hugger

·      She tells us that every day is a new chance to do something great

Like I said, the best Christmas gift ever…

And to all a goodnight…

Here I am, on my third (ok 4^th) glass of my favourite wine, reflecting on the last 24 hours.  I didn’t think I would get through it…but I did. 

I am pretty damn proud of myself.  I succeeded in completing all my baking on time, I decked the halls until I thought I would shoot garland out my ass and I managed to keep it together (well, most of the time).

The kids and I kept to some of our old traditions and started some new ones.  It was liberating and annoyingly easy. 

The kids were happy with the well thought out gifts I had purchased and Hannah reminded me once again that Christmas doesn’t come from a store. 

I found things under the tree for me that I had purchased for myself months ago, now lovingly wrapped in only the way a 10 and 7year old could wrap.  I had thoughtful gifts delivered to me, friends staying with me when I needed it and I shed more than a few tears of happiness.

Speaking of the gifts…

For those of you who don’t know me all that well…I suck at putting shit together.  I mean really suck.  I can’t follow directions, put peg A into slot B, or make sense of any of the “illustrations” they give you in the hopes of making the assembly of toys easier.  My brain just doesn’t work that way.  It took me almost an hour to put together the game Life…I am not kidding.

Anyway, I looked fear and confusion straight in the eye, grabbed every type of screwdriver I could find, an arsenal of batteries, scissors and every ounce of patience I could muster.  Without any swearing (ok…one f’bomb but it was totally justified and said under my breath) I successfully managed to put together 2 board games (yes, they need assembly…who knew), a death star (which almost killed me), managed to figure out the parental controls on not one but two DSi’s, built a Dr. Dreadful gross lab, put together a telescope and kicked some ass at our new Just Dance wii game.  Hey kids have to learn they can’t always win and learn that they will never win against my moonwalk.

These are big feats for me dear readers.  You see, I was always in charge of handing out the gifts, cleaning up the paper and making the grand Christmas morning breakfast.  I have never in my life built a death star (and let me tell you, the screws on that thing are TINY!)  I have never had to recharge a remote control Jeep and I certainly have never had the pleasure of figuring out the republic vs. the empire. 

In the grand scheme of things, I can’t remember a Christmas more relaxed, more stress free, more meaningful and more important than this one.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!

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Pissy Fit is officially over!

In August we celebrated 20 years together and December 20 would have been our 14^th wedding anniversary.  So in light of Sunday night’s negative karma vomit I spewed out into the universe, I have decided I am not going to make my “ would have been anniversary” a pity party.

Today is the day I remind myself about all the amazing things in my life that I am grateful for.

I am grateful for my kids obviously. 

I am grateful for my amazing family.

I am grateful for my amazing friends.

I am grateful that I have been able to keep my kids in our home.

I am grateful that even after my bills are paid, I still have some money left in my account.

I am grateful to have a job that I love.

I am grateful that my favourite wine still has a cork.  It just doesn’t feel right with a twist top.

I am grateful that I have found the strength every morning to get up and carry on.

I am grateful that I have enough.

I am grateful that my problems are small compared to others.

I am grateful for my health considering some of the struggles I have had this past year.

I am grateful that I can provide relief for my clients.

I am grateful for my car.

I am grateful to all of you who actually read my blog.

I am grateful that I can see the magic in the everyday.

I am grateful to know the difference between alone and lonely.

I am grateful for being shoved so far out of my box that there isn’t even a box anymore.

I am grateful that I get the chance to do something positive every day.

I am grateful that the people in my life love me for who I am.

I am grateful for Tylenol sinus.

I am grateful for Hershey’s Kisses.

I am grateful for the struggles that brought me to where I am right now.

I am grateful for pre-packaged cheese for the kid’s lunches.

I am grateful for the disappointments I have had so I can appreciate what matters the most.

I am grateful for Sunday morning snuggles with my kids.

I am grateful for bacon.

I am grateful for the delete button.

I am grateful for every person who has ever cooked for me.

I am grateful for a strong cup of coffee.

I am grateful to fall into bed after a long day.

I am grateful for my huge heart and it’s tendancy to be found on my sleeve.

I am grateful for pizza with bacon and mushrooms.

I am grateful for unanswered prayers.

I am grateful for my co-workers who maintain an open drawer policy with their snacks.

I am grateful to know when to walk away.

I am grateful for all the laughter that’s in my life.

I am grateful my phone has a GPS.

I am grateful for my front load washing machine.

I am grateful that I have been with someone when they pass to appreciate life.

I am grateful for gingerbread…really I am.

I am grateful for the opportunity to direct my path wherever I choose.

I am grateful my son has such a big heart.

I am grateful when my kids climb into my bed because it’s the safest place in the world for them.

I am grateful that I can successfully save a lego man from the drain using tweezers and determination.

I am grateful that no one can hear me when I sing in the car.

I am grateful that I have become more understanding and patient.

I am grateful for the invention of the push up bra.

I am grateful for my daughter’s quirky spirit.

I am grateful that I finally get to be “Carri”.

I am grateful for today.

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Merry F'in Christmas!

I know I shouldn’t be pissy so close to Christmas, but this is my blog and screw it…I can’t help but be a little pissed.  I have been very calm, very accommodating and extremely patient through most of this.  So…tonight’s post is one huge f’in venting session. 

I am pissed because I am 100% responsible all the f’in time, while he gets to do whatever the hell he wants.

I am pissed because he can waltz in, drop off the kids, their laundry and all their shit and leave me with the aftermath.

I am pissed because I just spent the last 3 days dragging my vaccume around, up and down the stairs, de-flea-ing my house, my carpets and my dog…and he gets to go to the gym, sit on his ass or whatever he does with all his spare time.

I am pissed because I selected, bought and wrapped all the Christmas gifts by myself.

I am pissed that it didn't occur to him that he would have to buy the gifts for his family this year.

I am pissed I have to shovel the stupid f’in driveway.

I am pissed because I have to explain to an old friend I saw at the grocery store what has happened when she wished me a “Happy Anniversary” for this coming Tuesday.

I am pissed because I made a shit load of Christmas baking with no one to eat it.

I am pissed because I still can’t cook for one adult and 2 kids and end up with way too much food each and every meal.

 I am pissed because I go to bed and wake up every morning alone.

I am pissed because I still feel like I have to babysit his ass and remind him to feed the kids meals other than fast food.

I am pissed because he still walks into the house, the one he couldn’t wait to get out of, without knocking.

I am pissed because when one of the kids has something exciting to share they have to call him and usually have to leave a message because he never answers his f’in phone.

I am pissed/sad because Grant lost another tooth tonight and he didn’t even want to tell his dad about it.

I am pissed because he was willing to give up his weekend with the kids to go out “clubbing” with his twice divorced, serial relationship, friend who didn’t give a shit about him when he was fat.

I am pissed because some of my so called “friends” haven’t called, texted or messaged me once to ask how I am.

I am pissed because I don’t see me ever letting my walls down to let someone else in because of the damage he has done.

I am pissed because I am getting along better without him.

I am pissed/sad that all Grant asked for in his letter to Santa was to have his family back.

I am pissed because a lot of his shit is still in the house and I would love to just set it on fire.

I am pissed because I had to sit alone at Grant’s Christmas concert while he f’d off to wherever was more important.

I am pissed at how f’in perfect everyone pretends to be in their own relationships.

I am pissed that he is so selfish.

I am pissed because this year has been a shitstorm from the beginning.

I am pissed at the fact that I strategically plan my trips to the grocery store just to avoid the awkward pity stares.

I am pissed because he still fights me on child support.

I am pissed because he owes me a lot of money and I know I will never see it.

I am pissed that he doesn’t want to spend more time with his kids.

I am pissed because I can’t let go of the reasons he gave me about why he was leaving.

I am pissed that he has changed so much and doesn't see it. 

I am pissed because there are wives out there way worse, way more bitchy, way more controlling, way more high maintenance and way more naggy than I am but I am the one alone.

I am pissed that I bent over backwards for years and it got me nowhere but alone and writing a blog about how pissed off I am.

I am pissed I gave up my business because he told me to and left me anyway.

I am pissed that he still makes me cry.

I am pissed that he only sees the kids 4 days a month and never asks to see them more.

I am pissed that I pretend everything is ok just to spare other people’s feelings so they don't feel uncomfortable.

I am pissed that I let all this stuff get to me and that I let him get away with it.

Venting complete.  Maybe I will I post a grateful list to reverse the negative karma I just puked into the universe.  Tomorrow is a new day.

I've got the moves like Jagger...

Ballroom dancing has been on my list for a while…even before I was single.  So, when the opportunity to purchase a Groupon for 2 free private lessons, 1 group lesson and one dance party came up, how could I resist? 

So, honestly, I am a terrible dancer.  Even 3 sheets to the wind, it’s like watching Elaine from “Seinfeld”.  I think I am a good dancer once a bottle of wine has been consumed and have been known to bust out the occasional sprinkler or running man, but seriously, I can’t dance.

The Groupon was lessons for two, but since I am a single, I informed the very pleasant, very perky young lady on the telephone when I called to make my first class appointment.  “No worries” she says.  “I will set you up with one of our fabulous instructors.”  This could mean that I am dancing with an 80 yr. old with a bum hip or a delicious little dancing machine just old enough to be legal.  Either way, I am nervous.

Off I go, dance shoes in hand, and butterflies in my stomach. 

Arriving at the studio just in time, I fill out the pre-requisite information card and wait.  Out of no where, twirling in like Prince Charming from Disney on Ice, comes Justin, my dancing partner and instructor.  Young and eager, he takes me by the arm and pulls me around the studio for the grand tour.  He asks me what brought me here, how old I was, did I have kids, have I danced before, my mother’s maiden name.  Ok…he didn’t ask my mother’s maiden name, but he might as well of. 

I was polite and interested and answered all his questions, knowing full well he was trying to break the ice and make me comfortable.

I first learned the “stance.”  This required me putting my hand on the upper half of a strong bicep, his hand on the middle of my back, our other hands clapsed in eachother’s and eye contact.  He is big on eye contact.  Immediately I wonder if I put enough deodorant on this morning. 

We started out with the foxtrot.  Sounds easy right?  WRONG!  Foxtrot sucks.  I couldn’t get my footwork to match his, my hand was sweaty because I was in the clutches of a young, attractive dancing machine and I was nervous.  I really wanted to do well. 

The whole time, we chatted and laughed as I stepped on his feet, side stepped left instead of right and eventually became more at ease with the idea of dancing and being very close to a very young man (who by the way smelled fantastic)  Mission accomplished.  My first fox trot.  I am excited!

Next we moved on to the tango.  I kicked ass!  The tango is definitely my thing.  Justin told me I was sassy enough to make it work and that he saw the passion in my eyes for the dance.  Mama mia, Justin.  It was a lot of fun and that is one dance I am really looking forward to learning more about.

Next was the rumba.  Holy shit Batman.  I couldn’t get the footwork right, he scolded me for looking at my feet when he really wanted me to look right in his eyes.  (His words not my imagination)  He made it very difficult to concentrate when he told me the rumba was all about passion and made me get close enough I could see the light reflect in his eyes.  (Insert harp music, a field of flowers and …wait a minute, where was I)  Talk about intimidating.  Young, and smelling so good (did I mention he smelled good?), with a great smile, I couldn’t possibly look right at him.  Here I am sweating and swearing like a sailor because I stepped on his shoes…again.  I was so flustered at one point I made some dumb ass comment about liking his tie.  Keep in mind, these conversations are happening while we dance.  We don’t stop to chat, we talk and dance…at the same time.  I can’t even drink from a water bottle and walk at the same time.  While I fumbled around with my footwork he asked me, “if you could go anywhere in the world, price being no object, where would it be?  I said without hesitation, “Italy.”  He proceeds to say, “Ok, you and the man of your dreams are in Italy.  You have seen the sights, maybe toured a vineyard, taken in the architecture and the museums, had a romantic meal in a café, drank a bottle of wine.  You feel the possibility in the air…the warm breeze caresses your face.  Night is falling, and in the background sensual music starts to play.  He takes you in his arms, right there in the café, fire in his eyes and you feel the passion. It’s the kind of night where anything could happen.  (long pause while he stares right at me)  Now we rumba.” I made eye contact, figured out my right from my left and rumba-ed my ass off. 

Our last dance and the most fun was swing.  I did pretty amazing if I do say so myself.  Besides, Justin told me it was the best dance of the afternoon and asked if I was sure I had never danced before.  I know it’s his job to be charming and encouraging, but leave me to my fantasy would you.

Swing is not as hard as you would think.  The steps are basic and to be honest, I really like being spun.  At one point, we were travelling a little too fast and I had to confess that I have a tendancy to get motion sickness…and regardless of how much fun I was having, I didn’t want to vomit on his shiny, black dancing shoes. 

He talked my ear off the whole time. We talked about Christmas cookies, movies, my kids, the weather, everything and anything.  He did he best to keep me from overthinking.  Number one to distract me from looking at my feet, number two so I would stop thinking so much and number three, because I am pretty sure it’s a teaching strategy. 

I only actually stumbled once and that was when he was spinning me during the swing when he said, and I quote, “This is the part of the dance I like best.  I can have my way with you and there’s nothing you can do about it.  The music and I are in control.”

Definitely looking forward to my next lesson.

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When the sh*t hits the fan

I had a great day at work on Friday.  Got lots accomplished, nothing too stressful going on.  We even celebrated a coworker’s birthday.  Until late in the afternoon, the busy weekend ahead, soon became the last of my worries.

The following is a time line of actual events (as I can remember them to the best of my ability) 

3:30pm  At the office

Starting to feel a little headachy.  I couldn’t be hungry, I had been eating all day.  Maybe it was the birthday cake that pushed me over the edge.  Note to self…stop eating so much birthday cake.  I put my head on my desk for a few minutes to stop the room from spinning.  No luck.

4:30pm  Leaving work to go home

Headache is worse and my stomach does a flip flop in the parking lot.  Oh, hell no!  I have way too much to do this weekend.  Christmas baking to finish, Christmas cards to make, a surprise party to attend.  I drive home as fast as I can.

5:00pm  Sitting at the diningroom table with my head down

By this time, I know…stomach flu.  Shit!  Well, hopefully not, but wow, my stomach was turning faster than the scrambler at the fair.  I was freezing cold, shivering and turning a very unusual shade of grey.  I prayed to be sick just to get it over with.  With my head on the table and the kids arguing over who is better (Star Wars or Harry Potter), I consider downing some gravol to stop the naseau until I can at least get them some dinner.  Gravol would definitely do the trick, but it will also put me into a coma.  Without another responsible adult here, who is going to put me in the recovery position if I pass out and choke on my own vomit?  These are the things I think about people!.  I decide…definitely no gravol.

5:30pm  The show must go on

No back up parent to make dinner, so into the kitchen I go.  Dizzy, sweating and on the verge of asking Hannah to just pour some cereal for her and her brother, I decide on macaroni and cheese.  Quick, easy, done.  Aside from the smell of it, I am doing alright.  Mac and cheese plated up, dishes left for tomorrow.  Little did I know then, that tomorrow would be spent in the fetal position on my couch.  While sitting at the table, I watched the kids load on the ketchup, slurping and stirring the offensive orange “dinner” until I really wanted to be sick.  It threw me right over the edge.

Ok…this could be it.  Up to the bathroom I run, half closing the door and prepare for the worst.  As I lay in a semi coma on the bathroom floor, with my head half in the toilet, my kids are out in the hall arguing.

“I am not going in, you go in.”  “No way, if she hurls, it’s going to smell like death in there.”  

So there they sat, not daring to come near me. 

This was when the questions/statements started coming.  I am not sure if they were trying to distract me, make me feel better or just kill me quickly.

“Maybe it’s PMS, not the flu.”  Yes, Hannah, it’s definitely PMS…see what you have to look forward to every month.

“What would affect my balance more…losing a baby toe or a big toe?”  Big toe

“Do you think we could go tobogganing when you feel better?”  No

“Santa is probably diabetic…I mean, his diet is so unhealthy.”  Yes, Hannah, the fat bastard is probably going to have a coronary on our front porch.  Break out the insulin and a digestive cookie for him.

“How come when I throw up, my macaroni comes out whole?”  Because you kids are animals and don’t chew your food.

“Are we still going to make Christmas cards this weekend?”  Yes

“Once I farted and I pooped in my undies a little.”  Once!  I have found more than one pair of “sharted” in undies stuffed under you bed.

“How do you spell Rudolph?”  a-s-s-h-o-l-e

“Are you going to die?”  Hopefully not today and hopefully not spread out on the bathroom floor.

“Are we still going to watch Christmas movies tonight?”  Yes

“How does Santa go to the bathroom on Christmas eve?”  He wears depends.

“What are depends?”  Diapers for grown ups.  (howls of laughter come from the hallway)

“When you come out of there, you should eat light.  That way your brain can send messages to heal your body instead of spending too much energy digesting.”  Thank you Dr. Oz.

I will be totally honest.  When I am sick with a stomach flu, I am a huge baby.  I can handle a cold/flu, migraine, a nail in the forehead, picking gravel out of an open wound, even other people’s barf…but when I am on the bathroom floor hoping for a quick death, I just want to be taken care of.  Even if it’s just moral support from the other side of the door and a box of tissue thrown in at me.

It sucks having no back up to count on when you’re sick. 

After gathering up the rest of my strength, I pull myself up, brush my teeth and snuggle in to watch Christmas movies with the kids.  They may not have given me moral support or thrown me some tissue, but they definitely made me laugh and that’s the best medicine.

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Personality plus…

So, here I am dating, and sometimes it feels like a job interview…questions fired at you left and right.  I’ll admit, I ask a lot of questions too, but seriously…

How long do you put on the “first impression” front before revealing your true self or do you put on a front at all?  Isn’t it better to just be yourself?

You know what I mean.  Sure I am naturally funny (ok, I am hilarious) charming and intelligent.  BUT, I am also a lot of other things.

I am emotional, unpredictable, sarcastic, stubborn, passionate, inquisitive, upfront, slightly blunt, honest, confident, independent.

I think you should be honest right up front…no surprises.  If you like the person I was on our first date “interview” then we will get along fine.  I am who I am, take it or leave it.  I would expect the same from my date.  That sounds harsh, but I think at this stage of the game I can be selective.

I am not perfect, nor do I claim to be, so when the tears start flowing because of that stupid Canadian Tire commercial, then tough luck for you pal.

Here is a perfect example of whether to be yourself, or put on a show.

The doorbell rang the other night and Hannah, bless her heart, even though she isn’t supposed to answer the door, lets in a couple of Mormons. 

Shit, now what?  I could be polite and listen to their pitch, I could tell them to get the “f” off my porch.  Unfortunately, the smartass in me was in full force.  I stepped out onto the porch and listened to their pre-written, rehearsed introduction about why they were in the neighbourhood.

The very sweet, very innocent young men asked me if they could come in.  I said sure, let me just put away my tarot cards.  They looked at me funny and took a step closer to the threshold of the door.  So, not scared of tarot cards.  Interesting.

I told them I was in the middle of cooking dinner, which I was.  They asked if Wednesday evening would be a better time, to which I said, “Sure, come by Wednesday.”

The blonde one then asked if my husband would be home.  I said no he wouldn’t, why were they asking.  It seems these young mormon men can’t come into a woman’s home without a male “figure” in the house.  Again, interesting.

I kind of laughed, which in hind sight, perhaps was rude.  I mean, rules are rules.  But, me being who I am, came out with, “What, do you think I would chain you to the water heater in my basement and have my way with you?”  Too much, I know. 

They stood there bewildered and I really thought the blonde one was going to take me up on my offer.

I told them there wasn’t a man of the house.  Then “Daniel” (he had a name tag) apologized since they assumed there was a man in the house, with the children and all.  Still not sure why he would think that, but whatever.

I thought for a moment about how to handle this.

I proceeded to tell them that I had been artificially inseminated, my lesbian lover would be home any minute and we were hosting a swingers party that night if they were interested in hearing the lord’s name being shouted out in a totally different way.

Tripping over eachother, trying to get off my front steps, the two young mormons thanked me for my time and they took off down my driveway.

I wonder if I will see them Wednesday night?

I have found true love.

The trouble with words is that once they are spoken, they cannot be erased.  No take backs, no apologies that will ease the sting or remove them from memory.

Words, statements, spiteful comments made to hurt me, do hurt and if I let them, bring tears to my eyes.  As quickly as the hurt feelings come, I force them back down just as quickly to deal with in my own time.  And I do deal with it and trust me, healing takes time.

Inspite of my strong façade, the things that have been said to me, will always stay with me.  Doubt, fear and a trusting heart are my weaknesses.

After the upheaval of last week, feeling pulled in a thousand directions, I made it my mantra to make this week better.  Pushing all negativity out and plowing forward like I always do, I was overtaken by a force so powerful, it left me speechless.

I have always known this force was there.  Quietly keeping watch over me, waiting for the moment I needed it the most.  Little did I realize that tonight would be the night I needed it.

I try my best to be a positive light in the darkness for my children and let’s face it for myself.   I keep a positive image of their dad ever present.  I am optimistic that all will be well, that I will not fall into the deep pit of despair that threatens to overtake me sometimes.  But at the edge of the optimism, lies a bitterness and anger, just waiting for permission to become unhinged.  I don’t allow it often, but when I do, it isn’t pretty.  It is however, healthy.  I don’t dwell on the negative, nor do I ignore it.  I just deal with it.

Alas, one comment put me over the edge and today I just couldn’t keep the walls from tumbling. 

After checking on the kids to make sure they were covered, sound asleep and kissed one more time, I walked into my bedroom with the feeling of total devastation.  Yes, one comment, undid all the positive work I had done over the past week.

I found myself sitting on my bedroom floor, back against the wall (literally and figuratively), where I put my head in my hands and let go. 

Full out, heartwrenching sobs came pouring out, cleansing my mind and spirit.  The kind of emotion that leaves you raw, vulnerable, a little afraid and with an empty heart.  I cried for the loss of the dreams I had for my family.  I cried for my children who will come through this ok, but don’t deserve this.  I cried for the loss of the man I once loved with my whole heart for my whole life.  I cried from the sheer pain of a broken heart.

Allowing myself to feel the complete devastation of the loss of all these things (because it is healthy to feel), I suddenly felt a presence standing in front of me.

I looked up through my swollen eyes and tears and came face to face with my children.

They stood there, infront of their ever positive, strong, optimistic mother, who was currently in a heap on her bedroom floor, weeping.

Looking at me, not with fear, pity or surprise, but something else.

One with a box of tissues, the other with a glass of water.

They didn’t say a word.  These two amazing little souls, silently wiped my tears and rubbed my back until the sobbing subsided.

After a few minutes, the silence was broken by the soft voice of my 10 yr. old daughter.  “Someday mommy, he will realize what a beautiful spirit you are, and it will be too late for him.”

My 7 yr. old son took my face in his little hands and whispered, “Mommy, your heart is just too good.”

In stunned silence, I gathered them into my arms and held them for a very long time. 

No words needed to be said, nothing to be erased.

No pretences, no conditions, no boundries, no shame.

Just pure, almost painful, love.

Listen Bitch...Don't rain on my parade.

The kids were with their dad for an impromptu dinner, which gave me two hours to myself.  Usually I would stay at home and creep people on Facebook, but not this time.  Tonight, I am going to do something FUN!

What to do on a Sunday night at 5pm…hmmmm.

Hold on to your hats people…this is exciting!  I wandered up and down the aisles at the grocery store.  I stared at the salad dressings, I meditated over marinades, I marveled at the mushrooms, I made eye contact and smiled at the cute man (without a wedding ring and who smiled back) in the tomato section…ahhhh…whoa..wait, where was I?

I even went as far as stopping at the ice cream freezers to see what was actually in there.  When the kids are with me, I yell at them to look away as we run by.  The evening was perfectly blissful, quiet, almost meditative. 

I didn’t really need anything at all, but managed to put a few things in my cart so I didn’t look like a sad, lonely woman with nothing better to do than browse the grocery store.

Now…those of you who have ever toted along children to the grocery store know the bliss of shopping alone.  It is a whole new world. 

For those of you without kids…you know how annoying it is when you hear/see other people’s kids screaming, crying, running, pushing, fighting…imagine they were yours…all the time! 

Anyway…back to the alone time.

Then, it hit me…well a lady letting her kid push her cart did, but after that…I was going to buy myself some flowers!  Why shouldn’t I?  I deserve them after the week I had last week.  I headed over to the floral section and right away came upon hundreds of pointsettas.  Not really what I had in mind when I thought about treating myself to flowers.  Determined not to come home with a pointsetta, I came across the market bunch displays.

Looking at the bunches, I picked out the best I could find…$5.99/bunch or 3 for $15.  What heck…I threw caution to the wind and bought myself 3 bunches! 

Laying them gently in the cart, I headed to the check out.  I almost pranced down the aisle.  Feeling pretty good about the evening and how I handled the disaster that was the entire last week, I felt great.  And what luck.  I found a checkout with no one in line! I put my few random items on the belt and displayed my beautiful flowers for all to see.

Then…my glorious evening of quiet and peacefulness was rudely interrupted.  The cashier asked me if I needed a floral bag for the flowers, to which I replied “no, they’re just for me.”

And then, get this, the bitch behind me in line pipes up and says to herself, but loud enough for me and the cashier to hear, in an almost pitying tone, “buying flowers for yourself…that’s so sad.” 

Well now, for those of you who know me well…

The new and improved Carri might have turned a blind eye, or ear, in this case.  Let the universe handle my problems, blah, blah, blah.  The old Carri probably would have knocked her out cold with the large can of vegetable soup I had just purchased and told her to mind her business.

Instead, I turned to her, looked her right in the eye (something I am not comfortable with) and said, “Pardon me, do you have something to say?”

She stammered and said she was just making an observation.

I proceeded to man handle her grocery items that were on the belt behind mine.  Announcing to whoever was listening, I rhymed off the items she was going to purchase:  6 frozen dinners, 2 apples, a small package of lunch meat, a small carton of milk and 3 bagels.

I proceeded to laugh, I mean really laugh.  I think it was a defence mechanism, because I what I really wanted to do was just punch her in the face and run out of the store. Tears rolling down my face, I said, “Being a resident of singletown made you a bit bitter has it?  Do yourself a favour and keep your opinions to yourself."

I turned on my heel, pointed my flowers at her and said, "You will not rain on my parade."    

You can find peace anywhere…even at the checkout.

I am dedicating this post to all the single parents out there…this shit is hard.

Today was the day from hell…seriously.  Normally my blog posts are funny, upbeat, a little crazy but always honest.  Today is all about honesty.

Anything that could go wrong did…we slept in and barely made the school bus, the kids were at eachother’s throats, a winter coat zipper broke, a lunchbag came home with a half eaten applesauce covering everything, anything I touched turned into a shitstorm, work was crazy busy, I found a frozen mouse on the front walk that I had to scrape up and dispose of myself (stupid neighbour cat), the very tallest bulb at the top of the stairs blew, I learned very quickly how to fix a bathroom faucet and I developed a headache that felt like it would blow my head clear off my neck.

I am not perfect…and have never claimed to be, and yes, I have unfairly judged some people, so let me just say this… single parents deserve some credit.  Show them some love.  

As a single parent you do it all…manage money, pay the bills, attempt home maintenance, tucking in, chiseling dead frozen mice off the front walkway, reading stories, doing homework, after school activities, day to day chores, breakfast, lunches, dinners, keeping the positive in everything you do.  Finances overwhelm you.  You have to put a roof over your children's heads and food on the table. You must deal with the tears, the fights and the hard questions that come from the kids.  You are the one getting up in the night when your 7 yr old son wakes up from a nightmare that his family has been killed.  (I am not even going into the psychology of that one) You are the one trying to explain to your daughter that “no daddy isn’t a jerkface” when you firmly believe her statement is totally on the money.  You are the one constantly reminding the kids this isn’t their fault, and no they aren’t a burden.  Trying to balance “normal” life, discipline and understanding is a full time job in itself.  Don’t even get me started on how Christmas morning is going to feel. It’s emotionally draining because you face each crisis alone and you

know that you are the main person your children can depend on. I am damn tired. 

Generally, all the stresses that most families feel, you are just doing it on your own.  Let’s be honest…I did all these things before I was a single parent (most moms do), but at least when I had a partner, I had someone to talk to at the end of the day.  Someone to share my misery with and get some sympathy.  Someone to count on when the nightmares  keep us all cuddled in the same bed.  Someone to assure me that no, I wasn’t totally f’in the kids up.  Without a partner to share the load, parenting alone is scary. It can be overwhelming, lonely and damn hard. 

My whole attitude from the very beginning has been to take the high road, put out what I want to get back from the universe and keep my home a positive sanctuary for the kids.  

My outlook on life is to enjoy what I have today...be grateful for the things I have now. This is something that I am trying to teach my kids.  I think I have been doing a pretty good job.  Even though there are days like today…days when all I really want to do is cry, eat a bag of Oreos and wash them down with a bottle of wine, I force myself to look at the positive.  How do you cope in the chaos? 

First of all, I cope because my kids need me to.  I am the stability for them, I am the person they can look to for everything from scraped knees to wounded hearts.  They see me cry, I hold them while they cry, we share our feelings and then we look at all the amazing things we do have and we are grateful.  They keep me grounded and optimistic.  We have shown eachother what true love really is.  

I cope because I have the most glorious friends anyone could ever ask for.  They drop everything when I need them, they tell me what I need to hear (not what I want to hear), they pick me up when I feel like 

I might not ever get up again. They listen to me complain and share in my triumphs.  They make me dinner, listen to me when I need to vent and sit with me when I cry. They give me chocolate. They take my kids and I home after a day like today and make me crepes.

I also cope, because I refuse to wither away and let this chapter of my life destroy me. 

Wow…what a bummer of a post…sorry about that! 

Just had to get a few things off my chest and since this is my blog, I can do whatever I

want lol.  

Tomorrow is a new day.

The disturbing results of my online dating experiment!

Wow...what a weekend!  

Well…I hope you are all very happy!  You peer pressured me into an online dating profile.  I had a crazy amount of messages asking me to "give it a try."

Now let’s just clear this up…I am not ready for or looking for a long term relationship.  I am learning to enjoy life as I am with my kids.  That being said, I wouldn’t mind a night out either.

So, I took this challenge not only for myself (to prove you are all crazy), but for all my married and attached friends who see internet dating as this mystical, magical, meat market and their need to know all of it’s dirty little secrets.

I am not naming names, but there are more than a couple of people “fishing” who I know have a partner.  Yikes.  (I also just gave you a clue as to where I posted my profile lol)

Think of this as an experiment in human nature…a sociology study if you will.

I completed an online profile (yes with my real picture) and information.  No mom, I didn’t include my address or phone number.

The results are in (keep in mind, all this data is the result of the first 24 hours of being on the site)

Number of “views” (people viewing my profile in 24 hours): 106  Friday nights in singletown must be rockin’.

Number of direct messages sent to me: 82  Not all awesome by the way.

Number of requests for a “hook up” tonight: 6  ummm…no thanks.

Number of messages sent saying  “Hey I haven’t seen (insert Claudius’ name here) since we played (insert any sport here) Say hi to him for me! “:  7  Seriously…WTF -  7 people out there want me to say hello for them???  (For those of you who are new to the blog...please read previous posts to find out who Claudius is)

Number of requests to see photos of me wearing nothing but a smile: 2  No comment necessary.

Number of guys who wanted to know if I liked hunting:  1  If by hunting you mean shoe shopping, then yes, I love it.

Number of guys, who, by using the word “your” instead of “you’re” that I deleted:  3  I am sorry, I just can’t take that kind of carelessness or stupidity.

Number of married men that messaged me that I actually knew: 2  Sad but true.

Number of men that told me they had a “surprise” for me: 2  Like, surprise, hold this replica of you that I made with human hair while I strangle you with my belt.

Number of “dads” that I know (who are my own father’s age) viewing my profile: 2  I threw up in my mouth a little.

Number of guys who asked if I like having my hair pulled or if I would consider pulling their hair:  1 I don’t even know what to say...I mean, I guess I could.

Number of guys whose profile pictures are of them holding, drinking, or spilling some kind of alcohol…too many.

Number of guys who used the line “I’m new in town, do you think you could give me directions to your place?”  1  Funny, but kind of depressing.

Number of guys who didn’t give me a creepy vibe: 10/82  Those are some frightening odds aren’t they?

Maybe I am on the wrong site, maybe I am naïve and really have no idea what the real world is like and maybe, just maybe,  I have set myself up for disaster just to prove to my crazy friends that online dating is a nightmare and I am better off in my pajamas watching CSI marathons.

Will I keep the online dating profile?  Will I take up any offers of coffee, drinks, hair pulling etc…I guess you have to keep following my blog to find out.

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The List...

Alot of you out there are pretty sadistic...I have had numerous requests for my next "adventure" to be internet dating!

Whoa there people...I am just not sure.  I mean, I just got used to having a bed all to myself, my bathroom has been clean for almost 3 months and I am still a little crazy.  Ok...I always have been a little crazy, but a clean bathroom???  Come on!  That's quite the sacrifice.

This post is a long one...keep reading to find out why.

When I met my husband, I was 15 years old.  When we got married I was 21 years old.  What I thought I wanted then, is very different from what I want now obviously.  I am not even sure what I wanted then…like all girls, the fairy tale I suppose.  Damn you Disney for f’ing up all little girl’s realities.

I don’t regret any of the time we spent together, good or bad, because it has shaped me into the person I am now.  Who by the way, is much more fabulous than the 21 year old version.

When my best friend went through a break up, we compiled a list of what she wanted from her next relationship (who turned out to be her husband) It seems to have worked for her.  Although her list was MUCH shorter and less demanding.

I went ahead and made my own list so I can clearly define who I want in my life and where I want my life to go.  I am a firm believer in what you put out into the universe, you get back…so I am putting it all out there.

Now, I realize my list is long and I am in no way putting unreasonable expectations on anyone that I wouldn’t put on myself.  So before you go shooting off any comments about me being picky, just don’t.

The reason for the long list of “wills” is because I can.  Most of it is about common courtesy, which isn’t so common anymore and respect.  Some of the list is negotiable, some of it is not…I will leave the deciphering of that part up to you, my loyal reader.

The Requirements…

1. …will be faithful.


2. …will attempt a healthy relationship with my children when the time is right.


3. …won’t put others down to make himself feel better.


4. …will be respectful.


5. …will have a job.


6. …will know that smoking and doing drugs are not negotiable for me.

7. …will talk when the need arises versus trying to put it off until later.


8. …will never sport a mullet, mud flap or Arkansas waterfall…Ever.  If you aren’t sure what those are…google it.  You will totally justify that one.

9. …will accept my poor tv choices and share the remote once in a while.


10. …will love my best friend or at least tolerate her lol.


11. …will have interests of his own.

12. …will call for no reason.


13. …will never wear high tops with the laces undone

14. …will be emotionally mature and available.


15. …will not wear a cell phone holster.


16. …will know how to manage his money.


17. …will have good hygiene.


18. …will ask me how I’m doing and how my day was and actually care.


19. …will be content sometimes to spend the whole day in bed watching movies and eating takeout.


20. …will compliment me every now and then, especially when I’ve made an effort to look nice, but even when I am grungy.

21. …will be respectful of my issues with alcohol.


22. …will have goals, dreams, and the drive to achieve them.


23. …will be able to kick ass at the game Taboo and show no mercy.


24. …will know how to do his own laundry.


25. …will be a gentleman and a badass.

26. …will pay attention to the world around him, not check his cell every 3 minutes.


27. …will comfort me and not try to “fix” my bad day.

28. …will be interested in culture, music, art, and/or travel.


29. …will be intelligent, able to discuss a variety of topics & has read at least 3 books since high school.


30. …will be affectionate and attentive and not afraid to show it.

31. …will tell the truth even if it isn’t what I want to hear.

32. …will be open-minded and non-judgmental of others.


33. …will put as much effort forth to find out about my day as I did about his.


34. …will accept my quirks.


35. …will enjoy spending time with my friends and their spouses and vice versa.


36. …will be crazy about me as much as I will be about him.


37. …will be my biggest cheerleader, even when I fall on my face.


38. …will be honest.


39. …will let me make mistakes.


40. …will hold my hand…yes, even in public.

41. …will be able to handle my sarcastic, smart ass mouth.

42. …will be free of a criminal record.

43. …will appreciate my efforts to try new things.


44. …will talk to me when something bothers him.


45. …will love me for me — faults, imperfections and all — and love me all the more for them.


46. …will continually surprise me.


47. …will lovingly accept my neurosis.


48. …will have the ‘we’ team mentality.


49. …will stay by me, even when times get tough.


50. …will have a backbone in the relationship and not be afraid to tell me ‘no.’


51. …will be a great kisser.


52. …will have a great sense of humor, but know when to be serious.


53. …will be passionate about life, his work, me.


54. …will know who he is as a person and be honest about that.


55. …will think I’m HOT, not just cute.


56. …will treat me as well as my friends do.


57. …will be able to laugh at himself.


58. …will have a regular sized temper than does not super-size itself randomly.


59. …will kiss me passionately every once and a while.


60. …will give me space.


61. …will be free of his past and his relationship with his ex.


62. …will laugh, alot.


63. …will be able to think more than two days into the future.


64. …will stay up late with me just to snuggle.


65. …will be romantic – not all the time, but at least make the effort.

66. …will want a family.


67. …will know what a commitment is and follow up that knowledge with actions that support it.


68. …will understand that relationships aren’t all perfect, and that sometimes fighting can resolve difficult issues.


69. …will like going out on a week night sometimes, rather than just watching TV.


70. …will be responsible with money.


71. …will get more satisfaction than dissatisfaction from his job.


72. …will appreciate that my children are my number one priority.


73. …will have manners.


74. …will love me even at my very worst.


75. …will be confident in himself, but not egotistical.


76. …will not have an extensive porn collection.


77. …will trust me.


78. …will be trustworthy.

79. …will go on roadtrips to nowhere in particular.


80. …will take out the trash and happily do the dishes.


81. …will take things in stride.


82. …will know enough to leave a conversation when we disagree and accept our different opinions.


83. …will still show love even when things don’t go his way.


84. …will say he’s open minded and actually mean it


85. …won’t judge me by my past.


86. …will not remind me of how hot girls are that are the complete opposite of me.


87. …will like to cook or at least appreciate that I do.


88. …will have left his high school glory days behind him.


89. …will appreciate my efforts.

90. …will love that I have such a big heart that is easily hurt.


91. …will be smart but not snide.


92. …will know that opposite sex friends who are more than just friends are not ok.

93. …will love that I’m independent.


94. …will be okay with public displays of affection.


95. …will be ok with the fact that I hog the bed.


96. …will never ever wear a speedo.

97. …will make me a priority.

98. …will move furniture around when I ask and then move it back when I change my mind.


99. …will focus on being a good person rather than working out.


100. …will always stand up for me if someone attacks me, verbally or otherwise, and ask questions later.

Now…that’s not too much to ask for is it???

I am willing to do all these so why shouldn’t I expect the same from a partner?

Ok universe, do your thing J

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