Sunday, October 31, 2010

Happy Halloween...mwahahahahaha...

Before the night is over, here are a few pics of our Halloween.  The final product, if you will...

I'm a late 80's / early 90's chick, in case you can't tell.  I got a few funny looks tonight, I think by people wondering if I wear leg warmers and mismatched fluorescent gloves every day.  And dude, I hope my hair forgives me for all that back combing and hairspray.

 The spooky house, with the spooky skeleton, with the spooky pumpkins and the even spookier mommy.

Cutest little skeleton I even did see, if I do say so myself. 

Thank goodness we're done for another year.  I did forget to mention how much I loooooove all the candy!  It's difficult to choose, but I think the tootsie rolls are my favourite.  Or maybe the lollipops with the gum inside.  Of course, chocolate is always there when I need it.  I guess I'll just have to have one of each (except for the all natural pineapple slices.  Q can totally have those...)

Here's hoping you all had a safe, and spooky Halloween.

Take a Bite

I'm not really sure how I feel about Corporal Punishment.  I think that most times when people hit their kids they do it because they're angry and they need a release, not so much because they're trying to teach a valuable lesson.  But that's just me.  I think children who are smacked around are more effed up by the time they're adults.  So I guess I do know how I feel about it.  I'm not so crazy about corporal punishment.

Capital punishment, on the other hand....well, I'm super glad I'm not the one who has to make that decision.  I mean, how do you know for 100% every single time that you have the right guy?  It's not like they're all that willing to confess.  I don't know if rehabilitation works 100% of the time either, though.  There are many, many effed up people out there.

I do, however, think that some forms of punishment are highly effective.  Say you get caught stealing, well...let's just chop your hand off.  You'd think once or twice before stealing something if you knew that was the punishment, wouldn't you?  At least I know I would.  I like my hands.  And I like the fact that I have two.  It's very convenient.  However, 3 hands would come in handy every so often...

Rape..well, I'm a huge proponent for chopping the guys penis right off.  With an axe.  Quick and painful.  I don't think a law will ever be passed that will support that, though, so here is the next best thing as far as I'm concerned.

I remember watching this Oprah episode years and years ago, and this poor older woman woke up in her bed in the middle of the night with some guy trying to rape her.  Well, she grabbed the guys penis and squeezed real hard to the left, grabbed his testicles and pulled real hard to the right.  The guy was in so much pain that he was begging her to call the police just to put him out of his misery.

This is the next best's called the rape-axe.  It's a condom with teeth.  Teeth that embed themselves into the penis.  And they can only be removed by a surgeon.  Can you say deterrent?  It's been developed by Sonnet Ehlers who has been researching it and developing it for 40 years.  Did you know that in South Africa one in two women is raped in their lifetime?  One in two.   That's like half, in case you're wondering.  How horrible is that.  A condom with teeth...just what the doctor ordered...

For more information:

Saturday, October 30, 2010

I hate Halloween.  Hate it.  Like on a scale of 1 - 10, where 1 is love it and 10 is hate it, I'm a 15.  And, I hate it on more than one level.  I hate it on many levels.

First of all, I hate the dressing up part.  I don't 'get' what's so fabulous about dressing up as a rocker chick or an eighty's girl.  I don't get what's so fabulous about getting dressed up at all.  I don't want to be a cow or any other barnyard animal.  I don't want to be a ghost or a goblin.  I don't want to be a cat or a mouse.  I want to be me.  That's it.  Just me.  All day, every day.  Dressing up, to me, is just plain silly.  It makes me feel silly. 

Not only that, but it seems that these days, you can't just dress up as a have to dress up as a sexy cat.  If you're an angel, you're an DD cup angel with wings.  Halloween seems to have become an excuse to dress like a hooker.  Police women do not wear 5inch stiletto boots - it's not very practical - they'd have a hell of a time chasing a perp in those.  Nurses don't wear mini skirts - because just your luck - it would be a 60 year old nurse in that mini skirt and she'd be bending over to pick up her pen.  Nothing about Halloween is realistic. 

Mostly, though, I just hate being scared.  I hate it.  I hate that feeling when someone jumps out of a dark closet and yells, "Boo!"  I hate ghosts and goblins and devils and vampires.  I've never watched a horror movie (unless you count the Blair Witch Project...but that was just stupid.)  I don't like haunted houses or bumps in the night.  There are enough scary things to worry about in every day life, like germs and drunk drivers and bugs...I don't need 'fake' things to worry about, too.

Crazy though it is, for as much as I hate Halloween - I have a six year old who loves it.  The other day he asked me why he gets a day off school for Christmas and Easter, but not for Halloween.  It made me stop and think that maybe I'm not teaching/stressing enough the reasons for Christmas and Easter.  Until he asked, if Christmas was Jesus' birthday, who's birthday was Halloween. 

So, instead of sitting at home in the dark with the doors locked (don't laugh...this is what I remember doing when I was father also hated Halloween...) I've chosen to make it an opportunity for Q and I to make memories together.  Hopefully, memories that will last him well into adulthood and make up for some of the screw ups I'm sure I have/will need to make up for by the time he is an adult.  Each year, he picks what he wants to be and I make it for him.  Well, we make it together...but really, I make it.  I try to let him help, really I do...but at some point, I inevitably push him aside, saying, "Here, let me do it..."

This year he decided that he wanted to be a skeleton.  So, a skeleton he is...actually, he's a glow in the dark skeleton....

The "bones" are foam painted with glow in the dark paint.  And yes, I did cut out each and every little bone... 

You can kinda see the refection from the paint in this one... 

Something about being a skeleton that makes you wanna be scary, I guess.

I was going for a smile here, he switched it out for this at the last possible second. 

Next year, he wants to be a ghost which I'm really super excited about  because it will be very simple, like  slap on a white bed sheet and we're good to go, like way easier than last year's shark.  I'm pretty sure I sewed my fingers together at least twice last year, and there was blood and curse words on numerous occasions.  This year, only one minor burn from the glue gun, and I think I only swore once...or twice...

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Don't Wanna Jinx This, Yo...

Saturday morning at 11:00am, I decided that I had had enough.  For about a month now, I've been doing it but not enjoying it.  In fact, every single time I did it, I felt ill.  It wasn't fun anymore.  It was smelly.  It was  expensive.  I was done.

I took two puffs of the cigarette, and then put it out.  I've not picked one up since.  Now, that's not to say that I've not wanted one.  But it hasn't been an overwhelming need to have one because I cannot breathe without nicotine in my system.  Plus I am so effing nauseous that the thought of a smoke makes me want to well...puke.  For some ridiculous reason, my withdrawl from nicotine, tar, formaldehyde, extreme, horrid, nausea.  I am on day 5 now, though, so hopefully the waves of "I'm gonna puke" will only last a day or two more.  What makes someone go through this 4 times is absolutely beyond me.  You'd think that someone would quit once, realize how friggen horrible it is to quit and never. ever. ever. pick up another cigarette again.  There's something in our brain that forgets pain and agony though...I guess it's the same thing that makes us have more than one baby and stuff.  Yes.  Yes, I did just compare quitting smoking to pregnancy and labour and delivery. 

Anyways, I totally decided that I was over smoking at the wrong time of the month, because not only am I going through withdrawl, I'm also feeling a tad PMS-ish.  So not only do I feel like puking, but I feel like puking in your shoes because you're so annoying to me right now.  Well, not you in particular...but someone.  Someone's shoes. 

*Someone* who calls me and tells me that his 'friend' is in town and she'll be picking Q up from school instead of me.  On my day.  Call me just a little bit crazy, but I'm not just going to step aside and let some woman pick up my son from school ("oh, but I thought you could sleep more if she picked him up...")  So, I'm like crazy psycho detective momma...

me:  "I don't really know how I feel about this.  I mean, I don't know anything about her."

him:  "Oh ya, totally.  She's not comfortable with this unless you are.  She feels the exact same way."

Okay...I'm not really sure she feels the EXACT same way as I do, seeing as how she didn't go through 24 hours of labour before pushing out a 10lb 6oz baby, you know.  And she hasn't raised him for the past 6 years, but I can totally see how she feels EXACTLY how I do about this child. 

me:  Can I find out some stuff about her?

him:  Oh ya, totally. Sure.

Dead silence...

me:  Okay, well how long have you known her?

him:  Two years.

me:  Where did you meet her?

him:  On the internet.

Holy Shit.  First of all, pulling teeth would have been a) faster and b) less painful.  But *on the internet*, really?  Do I really need to go through all the reasons why I should feel a little bit leery about someone he met on the internet looking after my child???  I know she's standing right by him while I'm asking the questions.  I can totally picture them both rolling their eyes at me.  But, um...hello...let's turn the tables here.  I've just met a man on-line and he's come to visit me for a week, and I'm gonna have him pick up my son from school while I'm at work.  Alarm bells, anyone?  Why is it that just because she's a woman, I'm supposed to be all okay with it.  Women can be serial killers too, can't they?  I realize it's way less common, but I'm not going to just trust the safety of my child to some stranger.

In the end, I told them that I didn't feel comfortable with it.  Not to mention, I was free and could totally pick my kid up.  It was just easier for Mr. Ex.  It just sucks that I'm always the bad guy.  Q is in the background saying, "She's really super nice, mommy.  It's okay."  Kinda like the time Q told me that he needed his passport because he and daddy were going to an Island under Florida to meet one of daddy's friends who lives there., I don't think you are.  Turns out it was Costa Rica and it was his dental hygienist and they had no real *concrete* plans to visit.  I don't know about you, but my hygienist has never ever once invited me to visit them in Costa Rica.  I guess I'm going to the wrong dentist.

But no, I'm the bad guy.  I'm the one who enforces the bed time.  I'm the one who makes him read and reads him stories.  I'm the one who makes the doctors appointments and dentist appointments and parent/teacher interviews.  I'm the one who enrolls him in sports and school and makes him eat all his dinner.  I'm the one who does all this stuff.  Mr. Ex just shows up.

I don't let Q ride his bike in the house (!!)  I don't have a completely empty living/dining room so we can play hockey in. the. house.  I wonder how many times he hears "you're mean."  Sometimes it just gets a little tiresome.  Why do I have to be the responsible one all the time? 

So, not really a good week to quit with the smokes.  But really, when is a good time to quit?  It would be really nice to release some of this angst. 

Tuesday, October 19, 2010


We're in the car, me and my Q, listening to the radio on the way home from school and this song by Shawn Desman comes on the radio...

Radio:  Every time we touch, I (pause)

Q: SHIVA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Like, at the top of his lungs.

I start laughing, he starts laughing.

Q:  I don't even know what it's just so catchy!!!

Yet another reminder, these kids are sponges!!!  We must be so, so careful as to what we expose them to.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Let Me Pencil You In

When I'm stressed out, I tend to get a little OCD-ish.  Like when I was laid off for the very first time (there have been four lay offs) I started doing things like organizing my closet.  I'm talking by colour and type.  So it looks kind of like a rainbow.  Green always screwed me up though because I never knew if I should put it before the blue (but certainly not after...that's purple...duh) or after the yellow (because yellow blends nicely into the creams, which blend into the off whites, which naturally blend into the whites).  Don't even get me started on my underwear....oh, who am I kidding...folded, then sorted into piles:  black, white, solids and patterns, with the darkest colours on the bottom, lightest on the top.  I could spend a whole content day like this.  My girlfriend worked in a shop that sold bras, so I learned how to fold them so that one side wasn't pushed inside out.  No one wants inverted bras, am I right?  I thought so.

When washing my dishes (by hand)  I would start with the mugs, then the glasses, then the plates (dinner, then dessert) followed closely by bowls, then utensils...knives, then forks, then spoons.  If, by chance I had cooked at any point since the last wash, I would let the water out, refill and wash the pots and pans.  Of course, they were all lined up perfectly in rows on dish towels to dry. 

I would count steps in groups of four.  Unless I was doing it automatically, then I would count each one.  I didn't even know I was doing it at first.  Every so often I would have a number in my head, like 97 or 33 and I had no idea where that number came from...until I realized I was counting steps.  Before sleeping, I would count.  Just count.  I tried sheep, but it made me dizzy following each and every one over the fence with my eyes.  Especially when I was counting to 486.  And inevitably, there would be the one sheep who decided to chew grass instead of jump and then I'd get all frustrated, lose count and have to start over.  So I just started counting. 

Now, it sounds silly.  I know that.  I'm not going to has crossed my mind that maybe the world would be a better place if we all entered rooms with our right foot first, and counted to 25 when scrubbing our hands with soap.  If you knew what to expect at every moment of every day, you'd be prepared for what came next.  Just think, every morning at 4:02 you know you're going to sneeze twice and then blow your nose.  You'd be prepared with tissue and a change of underwear (if you've had children, you will understand this...)

This idea works on three different levels.  First of all, you have the ability to control something tangible when everything else seems to be spiralling out of control.  You can put that mug on the dish towel, just so...and it's not chaos.  It's order, in it's most simplistic form.  Second of all, it's like uber-convenient.  You're looking for that pink underwear with the orange polka dots, know it's in the second drawer, in the third pile from the left, about 2/3 of the way up.  You're not looking through drawers and laundry baskets and under beds, you know exactly where it is.  And lastly, it speeds up each and every process.  Putting away the cutlery is super fast, because all the forks are already grouped together.  No wasting time, no pondering which to put away's all laid out for you.  And counting steps...well, I think we can all agree that you just never know when someone will hand you a treasure map where 'X' marks the spot....only 32 steps south, 14 steps east, and then 4 steps north.  You are set up, my friend, golden.  You've got this one in the bag. 

The last six years have been a combination of chaos and fly by the seat of our pants.  I found that it was easier for me to have no schedule at all, and just figure things out as they came along.  Q didn't really have a bed time because there was nothing important to wake up for first thing in the morning.  As a *non* morning person, having a little sleep in with a toddler was awesome.  It also made me the envy of all my mom friends with toddlers who were up at the crack of dawn.  We'd eat when we were hungry.  We'd spend the day in our jammies.  We'd do laundry when we had no more clean clothes to wear.  Closets were in disarray, underwear went unfolded, and cutlery was in the dishwasher if you needed it, and *fingers crosses* it was clean. 

Work was where my need for a schedule was fulfilled.  Airplanes came in at this time, left at this time, with little micro schedules in the mix.  If you took a five minute delay, you had better give a fabulous reason for it, because time was money and 5 minutes equaled approximately $100,000.00 give or take a thousand here or there.  Now, mail has "commitments" and if you don't meet these commitments, there is hell to pay.  It becomes a "National Event" and managers across the country discuss them on 7:45 am conference calls.  It's all very comforting, if you ask me.

Going into the night shift, with Q in grade one - full days...I knew I had to do something so I didn't go all bats in the belfry.  So, I bought a whole bunch of calendars, a white board and loads of post-it notes.  My day goes like this....

08:45 - get home
08:47 - say hi to brother
08:50 - pee
08:55 - get in pjs
09:00 - read/play a game of solitaire
09:10 - sleep

14:00 - alarm goes off
14:01 - hit snooze
14:05 - alarm goes off
14:06 - throw on sweats
14:10 - in car to pick up Q

17:00 - make dinner
17:45 - eat dinner
18:00 - *clean up  *denotes this may or may not happen
18:15 - make my lunch and Q's lunch
18:30 - lay out clothes for Q
18:30 - Q bath
19:00 - home reading, go through back pack
19:30 - bed

22:00 - alarm goes off
22:01 - hit snooze
22:05 - alarm goes off
22:06 - hit snooze
22:10 - alarm goes off
22:11 - hit snooze
22:15 - Holy Crap!! time to get out of bed!!!!!!!!!
23:00 - out of the house
23:35 - at work

I know, totally boring, huh?  But it works.  Seriously, we don't breath unless it's scheduled.  Sundays are laundry and grocery day.  Saturday?  Well, that's my fun day.  No plans, no schedule....we go where the wind takes us.  And it works, because I'm not crazy and stressed out and I know what to expect and what is expected of me.  Q, while completely resistant to the new schedule, is also doing well whether he knows it or not.  In our lives, there are no surprises.  Well, mostly no surprises.  I'm cool, calm and collected.  And it's good.

The only issue I'm going to have with this, is that anything NOT on my know, dating, coffee with friends, functions, etc...make me feel a little uncomfortable.  They're not on the schedule.  And if they are on the schedule it's in pencil, not pen.  Old single crazy loney lady, I come....

Saturday, October 16, 2010

And While we're on the Subject of Beautiful Men...

Okay, so we were on the subject of beautiful men a post or two back, but that's just semantics.  I mean, when are we NOT on the subject of beautiful men, right?  I thought that while I've started to give advice, you know,  on dating and such, I might as well continue.'s that, but also I'm not finished with my rant.  Bear with me here as I rant figure this one out...

Don't get me wrong, I love beautiful men as much as the next  Just look at these specimens...

All beautiful men.  All of them.  Look at the manicured eyebrows, the smooth, clean shaven faces (or ruggedly-handsome 5 o'clock shadow), excellently attired.  Let's go over the list here, girls....

Brad Pitt - left wife of five years for mistress (which if you ask, I am most definitely in the Jolie camp.  I know she was the mistress and all, but Aniston is such a whiner...)

George Clooney - serial dater of much, much younger women

Hugh Grant - Serial dater, plus the whole prostitute scandal

Jude Law - Cheated on his wife with his girlfriend, cheated on his girlfriend with his nanny

Yes, they're all actors and I understand that Hollywood breeds a certain type of lifestyle that doesn't necessarily promote monogamy.  But it proves my point, so I'm gonna use it to my advantage.  Beautiful men are not all they're cracked up to be. 

After years of dating beautiful men, a friend of a friend decided to join e-harmony (which I am not the least, we all know how I feel about internet dating...if not, well then I'd like to know why you've not been reading my blog regularly for the past two and a half years....) and decided to go in with a completely open mind.  As in whomever she was matched with, as long as he wasn't a serial killer or married, she would go on at least one date with.  She wasn't ruling out any options.  Guess what.  Turns out, tall, dark and handsome was not her type.  Tall, over weight and balding was more her style.  I know, hey...what a turn of events.  This guy treats her like a queen.  She's happier than she has ever been.  In fact, so totally happy, she married the guy. 

Another girlfriend has been dating this older man for quite some time now.  His party days are long behind him and he's got a beer belly years in the making, but she has never, ever loved a man like she loves this one.  Now, he's also a louse.  For other reasons.  But he's a man, so I think we're all used to that being the case. 

My point. 

There are many, many men in the world.  Beautiful men, and not so beautiful men.  I would take a man who loves me and takes care of me and wants the world for me over a man who has perfectly groomed eyebrows  and six pack abs every single time.  Any man who takes longer to get ready than I do, is no man for me.  Any man who could be described as 'pretty' is probably gay, but if he's not...I do not want him.  Give me stubble, give me wrinkles, give me a little bit of imperfection, any day.  Lord knows I'm full of flaws (yes they're minor, but they are there...)

There's a very, very thin line between taking care of me and being super clingy, mind you.  I've in the past mistaken super clingy for being loving and attentive.  More than once, actually I'm just saying...everything is about balance. 

So, to recap:

Men cheat (more often than not). 

Beautiful men cheat more (probably).

Open your mind to all possibilities (it is possible that bald is beautiful).

And clingy is not cool (and is quite often mistaken for love). 

Yep.  That about covers it.  It was a rant.  Rants don't follow a reasonable path.  You go where ever you feel led. 

Friday, October 15, 2010

What's a Gal to do

So, you're a single momma.  You've got a free Friday night.  You've worked every Friday night for the past two and a half years.  Your wonderful son is at a hockey game with his dad.  Guilt free evening.  You've got two willing cohorts sitting in the next room (fighting over a game of Canasta, by the way...that will be the death of those two...they're gonna come to blows one of these days over that crazy game...)

What are you gonna do?  The sky is the limit.  You're an hour away from the fabulous night life of Vancouver.  There's movie theatres and coffee shops and bowling alleys and a pub less than 10 minutes away. 

Well, if you're me...(which, uhhh... I am)  you plunk yourself down in front of the computer and blog while watching Four Wedding's on TLC.  Which, can I just say...Holy Shite, those ladies are catty.  I mean, seriously, these people are spending $35,000 or more on their weddings and they're going all out.  This one chick has a double decker bus take her guests on a tour of New York City and she's rated a 5 (!!) by the other gals - 'It was too *windy*' says one.  Another one has this gorgeous personalized video/photo booth that her groom made, and she gets a 'It was a cute touch...'  Cute!  A third scored low on the food because there was TOO much of it.  Geez, if these ladies ever came to my wedding (if I ever get married, that fact, I think I was just laughing so hard, I snorted!) they'd be asking if they could score in the negative. 

Anywhooooo, I'm thinking that I'll stay in my pajamas (after all, I did just wake up...) and maybe order a movie on pay-per-view (because - oh, yes - I am too lazy to actually get in the car and drive to the local Blockbuster Video).  And then maybe, just maybe I'll have a bath.  

Oh, and now "Say Yes to the Dress - Big Bliss" is on.  It's written in the stars, ladies.  Why on earth would I leave now? 

There is definitely something to be said for living vicariously through others.  I don't need to get married myself, I can just watch others do it on T.V.  I don't need to travel the world.  I don't need to wear an iron suit and save the world from impending evil...I can just watch Iron Man 2 on channel 852 in HD!!!!  Funny story...I bought an HDTV almost 6 months ago, then bought an HD receiver from the cable company...the whole time, thinking that the two together meant that I was watching HD all the time.  However...the HD channels are only from channels 800 and up.  Crystal clear, I tell you, CRYSTAL clear.  WHO KNEW?

My brother....he knew....

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Dear Single Dating Mommy,

Get this...I'm listening to the radio the other morning and they have this *news* item that says there's a third gender.  Asexual.  So, there are males - males who like females.  There are females - who are attracted to males.  And then there are asexuals - who are attracted to neither.  They have equal number of male friends and female friends but feel attraction to none.  They have no desire to be married or co-habitate with either men or women.  Any affection (read: human touch) that they need, they get from a hug or a handshake.  They have full and rewarding lives and careers, they just don't require sex to feel fulfilled.  Even more shocking (to me, anyways...) they don't want it...

So, the constant worrier thinker that I am...I've started to ponder this.  How long does one have to be single before they're considered 'asexual'?  Is it a year?  Is it two?  Maybe there is some sort of form you have to fill out in triplicate before they slot you into the new gender.  Is it going to be a choice on the next census?  Do you have to be a willing participant for it to be valid?  Or does someone decide for you? 

Because I've been single for almost two years now.  Actually, that is a total lie.  I've been single for four years in December.  I haven't dated for almost two years.  To work, I wear black cargo pants (with at least 6 pockets...they're handy, what else can I say?), a navy blue polo shirt, a navy blue cardigan sweater...and boots...steel toed boots, to be exact.  I don't know about you, but that screams asexual to me.  My male co-workers wear the EXACT same thing.  There used to be definition between my waist and hips, a nice hour glass figure I was.  Now, they merge nicely into each other, which if I'm correct is considered to be a *gasp* pear shape or maybe an apple...point is, if they're using fruit to describe your body, it cannot be good. 

If you look in my closet, you'll find I have more sweat pants and hoodies than dress pants or even jeans.  And my bras?  I'm not going to lie...I'm choosing function over fashion, comfort over lace.  My hair right now is in a bun, and I told myself it was so I could have an extra 10 minutes to snooze, but was I lying?  To myself?  I have this one black hair that grows from my chin (my eyebrows get confused sometimes, I think) and I try to stay on top of plucking it, but sometimes I forget until it's like half an inch long.  And this very moment, I'm horribly exhausted and even though I know a coat of bright red lip stick would do a world of difference in making me look bright and awake, I've not put any on.  In fact, truth be told I don't even have red lipstick with me.  I think I have a clear gloss though...

What's next, I wonder?  Soon, my roots will grow out or even worse, I'll cut my long, long locks pixie short - purely for convenience, I'll say.  But will it be the truth?  I'll stop wearing nail polish and jewelry and maybe I'll leave the house with only a bit of mascara instead of the full meal deal.  I'm sure it's only a matter of time. 

Of course, this is all ridiculous.  I'm not on the road to asexual.  Of course, I'm not.

My real fear is that I'm becoming a radical feminist / man-hater.  And it's probably closer to the point.  

Exhibit A...
My girlfriend sister is dating a guy right now who is super duper considerate to everyone but her.  His cleaning lady did a fabulous job, so he bought her chocolates, he bought someone else (his secretary, I think) flowers.  Girlfriend goes into the hospital for surgery and he doesn't even pick her up.  She has to get a friend to do so.  Then, they live in Dubai (she's a flight attendant) and she opens a coke during Ramadan.  He gets all mad because he's afraid the religious police will detain them and she tells him he's over reacting, so he drives extra slow by said police in an attempt to prove his point.  Are you kidding me?  DUMPED.

Exhibit B...
My co-worker is hotter than I am.  He's hotter than any one I know.  It annoys me.  To. No. End.  Seriously, dude...get a zit or a twitch or a grey hair or something.  Truth is, he needs a haircut.  DUMPED.

Exhibit C...
Best girlfriend is (was) dating this guy who has been separated from his wife for four years.  He pursued her, he made her fall in love with him.  After four years, one and a half of those with my gf, and a$$ hole decides to go back to his wife, partially because the divorce will devastate him financially.  BFF is hoping he comes back.  Um, can you say DUMPED?????

Exhibit D...
Now I love my brother to pieces, but I could never, ever date him.  He does this thing where he leaves his socks all over the living room floor and farts on a whim.  Sometimes, it's all I can do to bite my tongue and not tell his lovely gal to drop everything, run for the hills, and DUMP his sorry keister. 

Those are just four examples.  I know I could come up with about a tra-billion more, but I think I've made my point.  Men are ridiculous.  Men are cheaters.  Men are selfish.  Men are all about themselves.  After almost four years on my own, I cannot imagine having someones smelly socks in my living room (other than my brother's, of course).  I can't imagine someone hogging the bed and snoring beside me (other than Q...Of course).  I can't imagine finding a solution other than DUMP him.  What?  Work it out?  Why?  Just so another issue can pop up somewhere else?  I want to see the chick flick, you want to see the action...where is the compromise, I ask you, WHERE?  Is there even one?  I'm not so sure anymore that there is. 

Bottom line, it can't be all about me if there's a you in the picture, too. 

Now, does anyone need any dating advice?  Because I'm offering my services. 

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Anyone Out There? Awake???

It's 04:03.  Like, a.m.  Like, as in the *morning*...just in case you were wondering. 

I laid down for a quick nap at four this afternoon.  I was going to rest my eyes for just a mo'...

I woke up at midnight.

So, that's 8 hours, folks.  I woke up from an 8 hour midnight. 

And now everyone is asleep, except for me.  Me.  And my T.V.

I'm on my second movie (quiet, of course so I don't wake anyone up).  I've played a few games on the computer.  I've checked all my friends profile on Facebook.  And guess what...not too much activity there, because they're all SLEEPING...

Balance.  This is the word of the day. 

My biggest fear when I started working midnights was that I wouldn't get enough sleep.  It's turned out to be the exact opposite.  Whenever Q is at his dad's house, all I do is sleep.  It's like I have no control over it...I go for a short snooze and wake up 5-7 (or 8) hours later.  I set my alarm, I wake up when it goes off, and then roll over for just *five* more minutes. 


Who knew it was a fine art - finding out how not to sleep through your life...

I have to be up in 4 hours.  I'm going to Church.  It's Canadian Thanksgiving and I have soooo much to be thankful for.  Here's hoping I don't sleep through it...

Any tips?  How do you get through the gravies?  How do you sleep?  When do you sleep?  More importantly, how do you stay awake? 

Monday, October 4, 2010

Homesick....for Work...

It's no secret that I resist with my whole being dislike change just a tad.  So, this past month has been a little hard on me.  Q in school full time, new shift at work, new routines, new schedules.  *Sigh*

Here I am at work, sitting at my new desk, typing away on my new computer, supervising my new employees, learning all their new quirks.  My new boss doesn't quite know how to take me, so I think he just totally avoids me instead.  He's a no-nonsense type of guy who substitutes glares for pleasantries.  It makes following the kill-'em-with-kindness policy that I love to live by even more the sweeter.  Because he doesn't know what to do with it.  He asked how I was adjusting to the new shift and I went on this five minute tangent over how I've re-arranged my sleep pattern, while also managing to see my child and do my laundry.  As he walked away in complete disbelief, I called after him, "Thank you so much for asking!!"  He grunted in reply.  He also has difficulty with my finishing his sentences for him...especially when he's trying to impart his wisdom and *coach* me.  Coaching is the term we use here like, all. the. time.  Coaching up, coaching laterally, coaching your employees.  If you're not coaching, you're not doing your job.  Here, at Canada Post, we're just one big team.  I haven't figured out what kind of team we're like though...maybe a bowling team.  Or shuffleboard, perhaps.  But definitely not football.  Or hockey.  Unless you count the penalties.  Then we're kind of like hockey.  We would have a whole lot of penalties.

The only thing that I can compare what I feel right now is homesick.  I'm homesick for my old job, for my employees and their idiosyncrasies.  I miss them.  I feel homesick for them.  I wonder what they're doing (right now, they're probably sleeping...lucky SOB's), wonder if they're missing me.  I wonder if they're getting the support they need to do their jobs well.  I wonder if they're being treated well and with respect.  It's funny that something/someone can become so much a part of your life that you miss them so entirely when they're not there.  They threw me a going-away party, complete with snacks and goodies and speeches.  One employee brought me apple tarts from a bakery that his grandfather used to take him to when he was a little boy.  How special is that?  Another bought me this awesome "bento" box for me to bring my lunch, seeing as how nothing is open here in the middle of the night.  Thoughtful gifts. 

They all told me that I was the best supervisor they've ever had.  One guy has been here for 35 years.  That's pretty amazing.  What a compliment, huh?  Another said I was the nicest, and definitely the prettiest.  What a sweet talker, that's all I gotta say 'bout that one!  It makes me sad that I was the best supervisor they've ever had, because all I did was treat them with respect.  A smile here, a please there, a thanks, ask instead of tell.  It so simple, really.  It makes me sad that I was the first one who tried that 'technique' with them.  We forget how easy it is to impact a life and make someone's day.

I've learned that it doesn't matter where you are, you can still change the world.  You don't have to be a missionary in a third world country, you don't need to be a politician to effect change.  All you need is a heart for people and you can move mountains.  Ghandi said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world."  How could something so simple be so powerful?  Not sure, but it is.  I spent two years in my previous position wondering what the hell I was doing there, what was the purpose.  I thought I was wasting time and doing nothing.  I felt small and ineffective.  Turns out, a whole lotta people believed otherwise, and that means the world to me.

It makes me think that maybe you can change little bits of the world every single day.  A smile to a stranger here, maybe a thanks to someone who holds the door open for you.  Something that is completely inconsequential to you can be the difference to how someone's day goes.  The day of my last shift, I was getting a coffee when I saw a blind man with a cane trying to find an exit.  He kept hitting walls and going in circles.  I was about to help him, when out from nowhere came one of my employees, (this 6ft3 and a good 350lbs...scary, if you didn't know him) puts his arm in the arm of the blind man and leads him to where he needed to go.  A random act of kindness.  That's what I love about my guys.  They look tough on the outside, but on the inside, hearts of gold.

My new section, my new employees...they're pretty great.  They're hard workers, they're nice, they get the job done.  One night last week, one of the women came up to me, and in this quiet voice asked, " you like us?"

I just smiled and nodded.  I was just wondering the same.   

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Single Mommy's Survival Guide to Night Shift (while lookin' Fabulous)

I have this theory about 4:00 in the morning - If no one was awake at 4:00 in the morning , it wouldn't exist.  It's like the whole 'if a tree falls in the forest' thing.  But then someone would inevitably 'discover' 4:00am and then they'd be all popular and make tonnes of money out of it, and so this is why we have four in the morning and why I have to be awake for it and why I'm at work. 

I'm not going to lie.  It's really not that bad.  There's nothing quite like driving home on a Monday morning  at 8:00am while everyone is driving to work.  I think they call that poetic justice.  My weekend starts at 8:00am on Friday morning, while all those other sucka's out there still have 8 hours to go before they get to experience freedom like that.  My lil Q is super happy that his momma gets to pick him up every day, and that smile makes the I'm-so-tired-I'm-delirious worth it.  Seriously, the other day I grabbed a coffee filter to put my cookies in instead of a ziploc bag.

And because I've been through a whole week of night shift, I consider myself to be somewhat of an expert, so here is my "How to survive the gravy's and look fabulous doing it"

1.  Sleep.  Like whenever you can.  Even if it's on the elevator from the first floor to the fourth.  Eventually, it'll have to add up to eight hours, and then you're good to go.  There's lots of 2 minute opportunities out there...while peeing, for instance. 

2.  Stay, Don't Stray by Benefit Cosmetics

This stuff is awesome.  If I didn't use this, I'd look like a raccoon about half way through the shift.  It seriously works.  It keeps your make up where it should be, like nothing I've ever tried before.  It's a little bit expensive ($30.00 for 10 ml) but's worth it. 

3.  I love, love, love bold eye make up.  I've got it all - pink, purple, teal, green...vibrant, sparkly colours.  However, I'm sticking to the soft, shimmery colours for the night shift.  In my humble opinion, they make your eyes look bigger and make you look more awake.  Dark makes you look sleepy. 

4.  Also from Benefit Cosmetics is the fabulous Erase Paste which I've blogged about before, but this stuff gets rid of under eye circles like nobody's business.  It's da bomb, baby.

Ha ha, I'm having flashbacks to when I started in the airline industry and we had a full day's training on grooming "If your tired, it's amazing what a little blush and a nice bright red lip stick can do to brighten you up."  Which by the way, I still adhere to.  It's truly is amazing what a little blush can do.  Words to live by, folks, words to live by.  We also had to match our lipstick to our nail polish and bring our patent leather shoes in to be 'approved' before we wore them.  But I digress....

5. No coffee after 3:00am kids.  If you want to sleep during the day, make sure you stay away from the caffeine.  And that's big from me, cause I just love my java.

6.  Eat light.  A sandwich, a salad, some fruit.  The alternative is cookies and chocolate and pastries and candies...which we all know is sooooo much yummier, but it goes straight to you hips.  If I'm not careful, I'm gonna be like 400lbs in less than a year.  It totally doesn't help that the supervisor I'm 'paired' with is a 6 ft 3 in italian hottie who works out at the gym like 8-9 times per week.  Seriously.  He's more beautiful than any woman I've met.  And his eyebrows are more manicured than mine.  It's a little intimidating.  Helps me keep everything in check, ya know?

7.  Quit smoking (no, I've not done this yet...but...).  I've noticed that when I smoke, I feel 10 times more tired within about 5 minutes.  Ya, ya, I know this has something to do with the whole sucking oxygen from your blood, but blah, blah, blah.  But seriously, I'm yawning, my eyes start drooping, my head starts throbbing.  A hint?  Perhaps.

And if all else fails, just smile.  It's near impossible to look tired with a smile on your face.