Um, ya...not so much...

(Shhh, don't tell anyone...I'm blogging at work!) Last Friday night I raved about all the fabulous things I'm loving right now. This week, possibly because it's been a long, hot week and I am physically and mentally drained, I am going to talk about the things I so do not like right now. As the consummate shopper, I've bought my share of duds, and I am passing the news on to you!! 1. Smooth Away. I don't know if you've seen the commercials for these, but they have beautiful women in towels smiling as they buff away their hair. As a fairly hairy person myself (well, hairier than I'd like to be anyway) I am always ready to pounce on a new way to shed. If you have a free evening - say 4 hours or more - to buff then THIS is your new best friend. Seriously, it takes forever! I sat down one Saturday night (yes, you heard correctly - Saturday night, but I am a single mom...I don't go out on Saturday evenings...) with my new purchase and directions in hand. "Buff clockwise for a count of 3, then buff counter-clockwise for a count of 3" Wow, super easy. An hour later, I had used 2 'buffing pads' and still had hair. It is unbelievably tedious. You have to go over each area at least 3 to 4 times. I was de-hairing my arms and after a while, my skin felt raw...not smooth. After an hour, I still had another arm to go. And the absolute worst part...the next morning I woke up to...stubble. Arm stubble. Could be one of the many reasons I am free on a Saturday night. Grade: D- (it would probably be helpful if you had little wispies...do not try it on legs unless you have a whole day to devote to them!!) 2. Nair Shower. One word - Ouch. And the second word would be blood. Yes, blood. After my stubble grew back in, I decided to try Nair on my arms. Put it on before you get in the shower, and then DON'T MOVE because it gets everywhere. When you finally get in the shower and rinse it off with this 2 inch by 2 inch sponge that comes along, it has become this thick paste. It's probably as easy to 'buff' off as cement would be. Then my arms start to get sore, like really sore, and I realize I'm bleeding. I've buffed the skin right off my arms but not the Nair. Nope, it's still there. In fact, it's everywhere, on the shower walls, on my tummy, down my leg. I think my shower lasted a good 30 minutes, and that should only be the case when I have someone to join me (wink, wink!) Oh, and stubble the next day. Grade: F (could I give it an F-, because I so would!) 3. Skintimates Cream. Do you see a trend here? Thick and pasty and sticks to everything. You might as well put icing on your legs and try to shave with that. It gets into the groves of the blades and in between the blades themselves. And water does not wash it away. It makes a 5 minute shave last at least 10. Not my idea of a good invention. And my legs felt no more soft than if I had used the gel. It did smell nice, though, so for that reason alone I give it a Grade: C. 4. Steel-toed Boots. No, I am not trying to start a fashion trend. I work on a dock with forklifts and 5-tonne trucks and big, heavy body bags filled with mail (shout out to Canada Post!!) I know, how very girly of me, huh! I told you, I am an oxymoron. Oddly enough, being a girl on a dock filled with men actually lets me be more girly but I digress. I wish someone would invent non-smelling steel-toed boots. Because I have to wear them. And no girl's feet should smell the way mine do at the end of a long 8 hour shift. It is 10x worse than revolting. I have tried absolutely everything. Odor eaters, copper socks, febreeze, bounce sheets, airing them out overnight outside. NOTHING works. And they're horrible for my pedicure. And, if anyone is reading this who is thinking of making non-smelly steel-toes, consider this...pink and jewelled. You would have a line up, for sure. I won't even take credit for the idea. Good luck! Definitely, Grade: F 5. Men. Ok, granted I've never actually purchased a man, but I have been known to use their services every now and again. Mr. 1st Crush is getting married. And not to me. It's not that I thought we would get married, 'cos that would just be silly. But I did believe the words he said, and I did believe he was different from any man I had met. So, the marriage thing hit me hard. I guess men are men are men, and they tell women what they know women want to hear. Maybe that's called flirting. But I thought it meant more. And that is all I am going to say. Currently, Mr. (un) fab is wearing down my defences. A little fact about Mr. (un) fab...he's a salesman. I'm a consumer. It sounds like a match made in heaven, doesn't it? He says all these amazing things, but I haven't seen him in about 3 months because of our horrid schedules. And this little voice inside me says, "if it seems to good to be true, it probably is..." There is however, something inside me that keeps hanging on and maybe, just maybe this weekend I will have a date. Oh, I hope so. Men in general: Grade D. Mr. (un) fab - possibly Mr. Fabulous: Grade B. But, I'll keep you posted on that front.

A Little Bit of Alright

A lesser known fact about me: I'm half Brit, half Newfie. As a result, I am constantly at battle with myself. The Brit in me is constantly chiding the Newf in me. "Grow up, don't be such an Idiot" I say to myself. "Oh please you're such a stick in the mud" I reply. I really keep myself on my toes, I must say. On the whole, though, I am quite pleased with the woman I've become. Of course I have my regrets. I know the 'in' phrase right now is 'live with no regrets' but I think anyone who has lived has some regrets. I do. I regret that I'm not as well read as I would like to be. There are so many wonderful words and theories out there that I haven't read. I wish I could refer to authors in casual conversation. You know, witty or thoughtful phrases that would make people go 'Hmmmm' and would make me look smart. This must be the Brit in me. Oh, and I regret that I didn't travel more when I was younger and had the chance. I'm such a homebody though, and seeing the world never really appealed to me until now...now that I don't have the means or the opportunity. But I wish I had seen the Taj Mahal, and Kangaroos down under, and oceans as blue and clear as post cards from Fiji. One day, I hope I will get the chance to ride in a gondola in Vienna. And, of course I have my character flaws. I wear my heart on my sleeve. If I don't like someone, I have a terrible time trying to conceal it. And oh how I hate conflict. Always have. I will avoid it at all costs. Usually til the breaking point and then I will blow up for some utterly ridiculous reason. I expect much of people. Probably because I expect much from myself. I am a perfectionist...well, let me clarify, I am a lazy perfectionist. So, if I can't do it perfectly the first time I give up. And I like everything to have it's place...just a little OCD...but then the lazy comes in and I just let it be. I never, ever clean on hot, sunny days. Hot, sunny days are meant for beaches and water parks and swimming pools. Rainy days were God's way of saying 'Dude, you gotta clean!' I learned this lesson the hard way...I cleaned one sunny Saturday so I could have the rest of the weekend to play. It rained the rest of the weekend. I will never, ever make that mistake again. I'm a procrastinator. I leave everything til the brink of freak out, and then complete it in a stressed out frenzy. I can't save money for a rainy day (or any other day, for that matter) to save my life. I wonder if I will ever learn this lesson. I am a cliche and an oxymoron. I'm a girly girl, but love to roll with the boys. I'm a hopeless romantic, yet an unrelenting cynic. I can be the life of the party, but would rather stay home. I love my singledom, yet long for a partner in crime. I have an addictive personality (which means I become addicted quickly to things...smoking, facebook, blogging...not that people are addicted to me...oh, how I wish!!) When Q was just a baby, I would get so frustrated with all the things I hadn't gotten done in the day, so I began to write down all the things I had accomplished instead. I've found it's a pretty fabulous tool to have in life. I'm a full time single mommy to a active (almost) 5 year old. School and dentist appointments and soccer and playdates and birthday parties and doctor's and laundry and dinner and cleaning AND I work as a supervisor full time in a high stress, deadline induced industry. I'm kind and passionate and funny and witty. Well, I think I'm witty - I amuse myself almost daily. This absolutely is the Newf in me, although the Brit would love to take the credit. I used to think I was a product of my choices, like it was a bad thing. But I have to say that sometimes I stand in wonder at how I do it. I gotta say, single dating mommy (and to ALL the single mommies out there) 'You're a little bit of alright!'

Monday Weigh In (Week 2)

1kg. That is how much I've lost. For those non-Canadian types...that's 2.2lbs. I'm not going to lie, I'm a little disappointed. Okay, so I guess it's better than nothing, but with this heat wave we're experiencing right now, I probably sweat that out before I even got to work. And will power, I've been will power Queen this week. I said 'NO' to Ice cream, I said 'NO' to chocolate (and I was really, really tempted...really...) I even drank a whole bottle of water, then pee'd it out and weighed myself again, and it was still only 1lb, so I didn't even win by the water retention default. But I have started taking the stairs at work. I agree this doesn't sound like much, however I work in a 7 story building and my work requires that I be at all 7 of those floors periodically through out my shift, so it's bigger than it seems. I haven't worked up the courage for the gym just yet, tho. I have visions of me on a treadmill and people pointing and laughing and whispering to eachother "could she go any slower...and what is she wearing????" I know that most likely won't happen - or not so I'd notice anyways, but the fear still lingers in my mind and haunts my dreams. I'll get there though, I promise I will. Hopefully sooner than later...and at this rate of weight loss it definitely will be sooner than later!! Q's a great little cheerleader though, one day this week he whispered in my ear with a sly little grin "Mommy, I think you've lost weight. Yup, you definitely have!" Wow, his wife is going to be sooooo lucky...I'm training him sooooo well!!! Stats: Height: 5'5 (still, thank God!!) Weight: 160.6

Love, love, love it!

So, I thought I'd end the week (or start the weekend...) with some of my favourite things right now. *Sigh* I am such a consumer and a sucker for cute packaging - hmmmm... 1. I ran into the drug store to grab some chapstick today and OMG I found the cutest thing ever. I am loving this....BALMSHELL Lip Gloss. Crazy cool shades, all natural products, tastes and smells like cream soda. I picked 'Darling, You Look Fabulous'...because I just couldn't resist. And the coolest thing is the packaging...Check it out at http://www.balmshell.com/ and tell me you don't love it too! 2. My hairdresser, Chau. As a single mommy, I tend to be a DIY gal, but recently I decided to splurge and get my hair done. Out comes this little Asian man, wearing an apron fit for a bus boy. I gotta say, I kinda freaked out. He started picking random pieces of hair around my crown and slapping dye on it. It felt totally haphazard. Then he cut my hair in much the same way. I was fearing the outcome to say the least. The finished product....AMAZING. It's a masterpiece. I love it. And the best thing is the price. Cut, full colour, and hilights - $100. If you are EVER in Vancouver, go to Chau (778-571-1516) Tell him I sent you. He'll probably say "Who?" but whatever. YOU will have an amazing haircut! 3. Arbonne Clear Advantage. It's totally unfair that being in my early thirties, not only am I plagued with the fear of fine lines and wrinkles, but I also have to worry about acne. I've been an avid supporter of Proactive, using it religiously for the past year until my best friend gave me a sample of this stuff. I had never even heard of Arbonne but man, I am hooked. This stuff is amazing. It's like a mini-facial every day. It's made from all natural products- like Wild Pansy Extract and witch hazel. It is not tested on animals, and is developed in a Swiss laboratory (I know sounds so haute, huh!) I've been using it for a month now, and my skin is glowing! The greatest thing is that it doesn't dry my skin out like Proactive and it doesn't bleach my pillow cases and towels. So, if you're interested... http://www.trinar.myarbonne.ca/ Tell her I sent you -I'm pretty sure she'll know who you're talking about!

4. E-Bay!!!!!!! E-Bay fills every single one of my yearnings. First, there's the thrill of the hunt - finding what you want, anything you want - for cheap, cheap, cheap. Purses and shoes and dresses, oh my!! Next, the bid. Will you be the highest bidder? If you're competitive like me, your heart pounds, you bite your lip as you place your bid. When you win, this great little friend named Paypal pays for your purchase! I know, how nice is that! You almost forget Paypal is linked to your credit card, but that's a minor detail. Finally, a few days go by or maybe a week and then there is your gift (because by this time, you've totally forgotten that you've paid for it using credit) waiting for you in the mailbox. What could be more perfect than this! http://www.ebay.ca/, folks, it will change your life!! My fav purchases so far...Nike Shox for $30.00 US (Brand spanking new, and not knock-offs!!!!) and a Lululemon hoodie in PINK for $60.00 US (there was a spelling error on the tag - msde in China!!)

5. The Time Traveller's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. Absolutely my all time favourite book. A part of me died when the book ended. I love this book so much, I wish I had written it. wish I could have called it my own. It is the beautiful love story of Henry and Claire. I'm super stoked for the movie. I hope they do it justice. But definitely, READ THE BOOK!

Crazy?!?!?!?! I was crazy once....

(FYI...click on title to go to Post Partum Support Society...) How's this for crazy...in roughly 3 weeks I will be the mother of a five year old. Geez, where did the time go? Where did my baby go? Life wasn't always so peaceful... Q was born on Friday the 13th. I was hoping to hold on for another 2 hours, but when you're in labour you a) don't have a choice and b) really just want to get that thing out of you as soon as possible, so he was born on Friday the 13th. He was 10lbs 6oz, 21 inches long and his head was 14 inches in diameter. And it was his shoulders that got stuck. Yep, I gave birth to a 3 month old. He was huge. After the doctor painstakingly put me back together she told me that if they had known he was that big the would have done a C-section. Are you effin' kidding me???? Strangers on the street commented on how huge I was, you think she would have noticed too. Thus began a difficult journey for little Q and momma. For the first six weeks after he was born I was terrified I was going to die. Or that he was going to die. Or that something horrible would happen. I would obsess about it for hours, usually instead of eating or sleeping (or anything else that would have been actually useful!) And of course, I was his mother so I could do everything better than anyone else. I would hover over his dad. It didn't help that I was a perfectionist, so being a perfect mother meant I had a baby that didn't cry. Makes sense, right? Ya. So, I drove myself nuts. I would feed him before he was hungry, I would change him before he was wet, I would bathe him before he was dirty. All of this left little time for me, so days would go by without a shower or brushing my teeth or hair. If I were in the shower, who would look after Q??? Did I mention I would hover... Six weeks crept by and I had my follow up appointment with the doctor and guess what...I was perfectly healthy. Q was perfectly healthy. What would I worry about now??? The first thought popped into my mind the next day, 'What if I threw him down the stairs? What would happen?' Of course I didn't WANT to do it. It was just a thought. The thought became an obsession. 'What if I put him in the microwave? What if I put Javex in his bottle?' The thoughts just kept coming and the more I obsessed about it, the more they came. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I would bawl uncontrollably. This was not the 'baby blues' folks, this was post partum depression, and I was in deep. I would beg my partner to sit with me but he had 'a life of his own, you know' and couldn't spend all day with me. Of course. I was alone. My parents were 'back home,' my best friend there too. I was in a new city, and I had no one, save for the one friend I had met since I had moved. She was wonderful, but couldn't understand what was wrong. I had a beautiful, healthy baby...why was I so depressed? A few frantic calls to my mother and she put me and Q on the next flight home. That night they took me to the hospital to be sedated. I spent the next 10 days in the 'observation ward' (haha, they don't call it the psych ward anymore!!) while they regulated my meds, convinced me I wasn't evil (nor was my baby,) gave me strict orders to sleep and eat (and shower), and watched me interact with my son. I was diagnosed with severe post partum depression with generalized anxiety disorder. My partner never once came to see me. I spent 3 weeks with my parents as I learned to be a mother to my child. When I came home, I had a message waiting from the Post Partum Depression Society. The night of my first meeting, I was so nervous I almost didn't go. I couldn't admit to these strangers that I was depressed, that I was a horrible mother who thought I was going to harm my baby. They wouldn't understand, they couldn't know what I was going through. Maybe, they would take my son away. But my brother showed up at my door, with keys to his truck, and said, 'I'm looking after Q. You're going to this meeting.' So I went. You know what met me on the other side of those doors? Kindred spirits. Women, just like me, who loved their children. Women who were well educated, women who were normal, women who were wives and sisters, and teachers and nurses. Five years later and I am fortunate to still call these women my friends. They saved me in more ways than one, and often times they didn't have to say a word. We listened, we spoke, we cried together. We gave each other strength and courage. The biggest thing for me was fear. If I couldn't control my thoughts, how could I control my actions? I didn't want to harm my baby. I loved him more than anything. He was everything I ever wanted. His smile lit up the room. He was the meaning of my life and the core of my being. I learned a lot on those weekly meetings, in the circle - things I use to this day. I learned breathing techniques to calm my body and my mind. I learned that medication wasn't a crutch, but a tool to help me heal. I learned self care - that is by taking care of me, I was taking care of Q. It could be small things - an extra long shower, enjoying a hot cup of tea, reading a book. It was time for me. It meant letting go. Letting go of this stupid perception I had of a perfect mother. I learned that I needed to believe in God, that being a mother wasn't something I could do on my own. Having post partum depression didn't mean that I didn't love my baby. It didn't mean I was a horrible mother. It meant I had a mental illness caused by a number of factors - hormones, exhaustion, dehydration to name a few. I despise the stigma attached to mental illnesses. I was not the woman on the news drowning her babies. I was not the crack addict who just didn't care. I did care. A lot has changed in 5 years. I still worry over silly things, that will never change. But, I'm no longer with Q's dad, obviously. Ours was not a healthy, supportive relationship. I now make time for me. As Q gets older, I can feel my uterus flipping over, my clock ticking. And I wonder, if circumstances were different, if I had a supportive, loving partner, if I didn't sweat the small stuff, could I? Could I go through post partum again? Would it be different? I would love to have another baby, and I hope that fear wouldn't stand in the way. I've learned so much...about compassion, about love, and patience -and Q has taught me all this and more. The wisdom of a child is beautiful. Happy Birthday, Q!! Thanks for teaching me how to love. Love always, Momma

Monday Weigh In (Week 1)

Evidently, gaining weight is soooooo much easier than losing it. **Sigh** Week one weigh in and I have lost...absolutely nothing. Not one pound. Nothing. I even weighed myself at different times throughout the day just to see if it was true. It's not my fault tho. My dad came in for the weekend, and all we did was eat. You can only go to so many restaurants and eat so many salads before you just have to say "Eff it, I'm ordering an ice cream sundae." I mean, frig it was calling my name. Look at it. Wouldn't it call yours too? Wouldn't YOU give in to temptation? Twice? Because I gave in twice. Ugh. Gonna have to kick it up a notch. I was super stoked too...I did a mid-week weigh in and I was down 2 kilo's that's 4.4 lbs. Woohooooo, I thought. Damn water retention. Time for plan B. Unfortunately, I didn't have the foresight to think up a plan B...

So, stats:

Height: 5'5

Weight: 162.8 (ugh)

Please Pass the Midol

In light of how I am feeling right now, enjoy: (An actual letter sent to Proctor and Gamble) Dear Mr. Thatcher, I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core (tm) or Dri-Weave (tm) absorbency, I ' d probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I ' d certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favourite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can ' t tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there ' s a little F-16 in my pants. Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from "the curse"? I ' m guessing you haven ' t. Well, my "time of the month" is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I ' ll be transformed into what my husband likes to call "an inbred hillbilly with knife skills." Isn ' t the human body amazing? As Brand Manager in the Feminine-Hygiene Division, you ' ve no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers ' monthly visits from "Aunt Flo". Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behaviour. You surely realize it ' s a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend ' s testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey ' s Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in capri pants . . . which brings me to the reason for my letter. Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: "Have a Happy Period." Are you fucking kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness - is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you ' re some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don ' t march down to the local Walgreen ' s armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn ' t it make more sense to say something that ' s actually pertinent, like "Put Down the Hammer" or "Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong", or are you just picking on us? Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullshit. And that ' s a promise I will keep . . .

I have a secret

The inevitable happened today, although I must admit that I hadn't prepared for it. Q came up to me and whispered something in my ear so quietly I didn't hear, so I asked him to repeat it, and he did..."Daddy has a girlfriend," he whispered. "But don't tell Daddy I told you." My heart sank. And not for the reasons you think. Hell no, I do not want to be with his dad. In fact, I pity the poor woman **Shudder** It'll go down one of two ways...she's either a) smart and she'll figure out what an a-hole he is sooner rather than later or she's b) dumb and then they deserve each other. The last one lasted 6 months before his gf was telling ME how horrible he was. Oh ya, that wasn't awkward AT ALL!!! No, my heart sank for a few other reasons: 1. Q's innocence. Most almost-5 year olds have secrets about the penny in their pocket or something else completely innocent. My son told his Mommy that Daddy has a girlfriend. Whether or not he feels the burden of it, I certainly do. Q is fortunate in that we split very early on in his life, so he doesn't even remember us together. This is a blessing for him and was done intentionally for this reason. However, Mommies and Daddies are supposed to be together, and his are not. I ache that I couldn't give him that. 2. Is she kind? Are her children kind? Will they love my son? Oh, my greatest fear is that someone will come into this little boys life and be mean to him. A woman competing for his dad's attention could be that person. And it terrifies me. She has two grown children, and so the last thing she might want is to raise someone else's. We sat on the couch and I asked him if she was nice to him, and apparently she is. She buys him stuff, so she's okay in his books!! One more person to love my child is NOT a bad thing. 4. Ugh, I cannot believe that another woman has fallen for his shit. Seriously. This will be the second one (that I know of) since we split. The last one moved in after 3 months. And then moved out after 6. Women are coming and going in poor little Q's life before he can remember what their name is. Conveniently, they've all had the same name which co-incidentally is also MINE...which is a little weird, to say the least. But whatever. He misses K. He tells me this often. And there is nothing I can do about it. Helplessness is a horrible feeling for a mother. Not to mention that I am still SINGLE. Something must be horribly wrong with me if this eff'd up guy can be in a relationship and I am single. I don't get it. I wish I understood that one. I really, really do. 3. He said it's a secret. That most likely means his dad told him NOT to tell me. This is a horrible burden for a little boy. It's hard enough for him to keep a secret. Even harder to keep one from his Mommy. It makes me sad. Here's the amazingly fabulous thing...he TOLD me!!!! He trusted me with his secret. I smile every time I think of this. We have a bond, my little man and I, and I am so glad...not to mention a little relieved! It was a great opportunity to remind him that he can tell Mommy anything. I won't get mad, I won't freak out, and I won't tell his secret. And my only question about her was how she treated him. hmmm, I wonder how long this one will last...

Oh, the possibilites!!

One of the most wonderful things about being single - and I will be the first to admit that there are many, many wonderful things about being single - but my favourite is this: the excitement of knowing that today may be the day I meet "the one." You single gals know what I mean, right? The one who makes our hearts go pitter patter, the one who makes us smile for no reason, the one who loves us just as much as we love him. I wonder if I will know it right away. I wonder how it will happen. I wonder how and where we will meet. I wonder how long it will take before we realize that we are meant for one another. I hope I know to take in every single moment of the experience. I hope when I recall our first meeting that I am overcome with scents, colours, thoughts, words, expressions, feelings. Oh, I hope I don't let the moment pass me by. I hope it lasts forever. It's excitement, it's hope, it's FABULOUS!!! And a little bit of romanticism, but hey I'm a girl. I think it's innate in us to be romantics at heart. I mean, seriously, how many men do you know plan their wedding in their head from the time they're like 6? Okay, I know one, but that's another story for another day!! I was reminded of this hope as I was running to catch the train after work. I was skipping down the stairs and a handsome, mid-thirties man had bent down to tie his shoe, and I thought, "What if? Could this be him?" My thought was a whisper so it didn't jinx the moment. As it turns out, fate did not plan our meeting by mischievously untying this guy's shoe when he wasn't looking. But that just means that maybe it will happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. It doesn't matter really, does it? Because it will happen and I will be open to it. Here's your reminder to do the same!

Better Shape Up!

Here are the stats:

Height: 5'5

Weight: 162.8lbs

Goal: 130-135lbs

Okay, so 6 1/2 months ago I quit smoking. Cold Turkey -or so I thought...

I ran into a girlfriend of mine that I haven't seen in a few months. We were chatting for a while, when the most horrific thing happened...she asked if I was expecting. I looked at her blankly (or maybe I was in shock) and I said, "Expecting? Expecting what?" and then as it sunk in "You mean, a BABY?" The smile slowly faded from her face as she realized her error, and we both tried to back pedal. But what was said, was said. As the shock wore off, a decision was made.

I got on the scale. Okay, okay I knew I had put on a few, hell I had to buy new pants in a LARGER size, so while I knew I had gone up a size (alright alright, I've gone from an 6/8 to a 10/12...moreso on the 12 size) I certainly never thought that I looked pregnant. 74kg....74!!! Or for those of you who think in pounds...162.8lbs. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN????? I like to think I'm a take charge kinda gal, so here's the deal. I need to lose 30lbs, or roughly 14kg. I'm on day four of my new diet. Actually, it's not really a diet. It's a lifestyle change. Since I've stopped smoking, I've been substituting the craving for a cigarette with a chocolate bar (or two...) or Ju Jubes or chips or pastries or anything I want really. I've cut out sugars, bad carbs (like chips). I'm eating more fruit, fiber and fish (ha ha, the f'in diet!!!)

I'm starting slow and I don't have a time line yet. I take the stairs at work instead of the elevator (okay, I'm starting REALLY slow!!) I know that I need to join a gym or something but I had a very embarrassing experience in high school, and so I'm a little hesitant to go. But I bought this fabulous pair of pink NIKE shox on ebay, so how could I not go? I'd look so cute :)

What the F?!* does .: mean?

I have a few items of clothing that I have paid a fair amount for (ie: Lululemon yoga pants that I LOVE!!) and I want to continue loving and wearing them for a long time...so I decided to 'google' what all those cryptic washing symbols mean. Oh my goodness, I never knew washing clothes could be so complex. I'm afraid to admit I have been falling short. What happened to the good ol' days when you'd grab the washing board and a bar of soap? Then after you were done, you could sit around the fire playing the washing board while grandma played the spoons. There are entire sites devoted to HOW TO DO LAUNDRY. No kidding, step by step instructions....this does not include reading the labels on your clothes. What started as an exciting Sunday evening watching 'Desperate Housewives' and folding piles and piles of laundry has become an insanely stressful situation. I am trying to decipher the difference between .: and :: and sigh, nothing comes easy these days. However, I have included a link for those of you who also look at the hieroglyphics on your clothing trying to figure out what the hell it's all about. Good luck trying to figure out the charts. It's as confusing as the symbols. No joke. I wouldn't joke about my lulu's and that is a fact, my friends. http://www.apparelsearch.com/care_label_symbols.htm FURTHERMORE, what has happened to parenting these days? Have we become so out of touch as parents that we don't even teach our kids how to separate darks from whites? This says a whole lot about our society. If we're not talking about laundry, you can be damned sure we're not talking about the birds and the bees. And why should we? Our kids can google it (totally tongue in cheek)

Help me choose a tatt

Abstract Dragonfly

Dragonfly

Thinking of branding myself with a dragonfly. Dragonflies symbolize freedom which is soappropriate for me. So help me pick!! The first one would have 08-13-04 for my son's bday, and the second one would curl into a Q - for his name. These are the two in the running right now, but I am a girl so this is liable to change at a moment's notice.

Please Play Again

Sigh. Remember the vacation I blogged about? The one I was sooooo excited to start. The one I said wouldn't matter if it rained every day because I'd be watching raindrops fall with my favourite people in the whole world? Remeber that? Ya, guess what...it rained...actually to be more accurate, it poured, like torrential rains, for THREE whole days. We came home early. Turns out, watching the raindrops fall - even with your favourite people - gets old. Fast. And how's this for ironic...the sun came out just how we drove away from the cabin. This is so my life. I've said before that if my life were made into a movie or a book - the title most definitely, without question would be "please play again..." My vacation, case in point. It's like 32 degrees there right now. Play again, Cat, play again. Men, unfortunately fall into this category as well. Two men specifically come to mind. First of all, there is Mr. (un) fab (formally known as Mr. Fabulous, but now is absolutely Mr. (un) fab.) When I first met him (on POF...I know...ugh, right????), oh he was fabulous...FABULOUS. He was kind and hilarous and a super single dad. We had this instant connection. We were inseperable for the first week or so, and then he disappeared. He'd text or call every now and then until even that dissolved into nothingness. For three whole months it was nothingness until about a month ago when he suddenly started texting, and calling, and telling me how much he missed me, and how amazing I am, and how he missed my kisses most of all. Sweet, right? Of course, I melted. I am a princess looking for my prince, how could I not melt? Well, we still haven't met. He always has an excuse. He always bails, usually the day before, but last night it was 3 hours before we were going to go out for dinner. I want him to leave me alone. I know he must be lying about something. I think he's married. Last week, he told me he couldn't chat because he was watching a movie with his mom and dad. He is so married. See, please play again. What started out as seemingly perfect,turned out to be the opposite. Guy number two came into my life quite unexpectedly. He was wonderful and kind, and I respected him totally. I just loved his friendship and saw it as nothing more than that. I valued his opinion and his thoughts. Well, he started mentioning the attraction. So I let myself go there...what if? Maybe? Next thing you know and I am hooked. Totally hooked. Suddenly he is gone. Just gone. And then I find out he's in a new relationship. I feel so used. I think he told me the things he wanted to say to this other woman, because I was safe, until he knew how the other woman would react. I was a diversion until he tested the waters with her. I wasn't even asking for that from him. I was content on my own, as a single woman. I followed his lead, and fell hard and fast. Now, we're not even friends as far as I know. I haven't heard from him in weeks. Lets all say it together folks, "please play again." So close, and yet so far away. I don't get it. I don't know why I have such shitty luck. I am having a pity party for one. All I want is to be content. A fabulous man in my life would be awesome, but what I do not want is these bastards. Why am I a bastard magnet? Down in the dumps, I am down in the dumps.

I am Canadian, eh!

Well, let's get the awkward outta the way....beauty hurts. After a day of groaning every time I moved, the swelling (yup...) has gone down and I am loving the Brazilian. However, I do remember why I only do it once every couple of years. It is painful to put it mildly. It is torture. Thank goodness the torture only lasted 20 minutes. I'm good for another 2 years (yes, that is me sighing in relief!!) In fact, I'm so proud of the job, I want to show it off...too bad that would be highly inappropriate!!

HAPPY CANADA DAY!!!

I really must say I am so proud to be a Canadian. I mean there's the obvious, I live in the most beautiful city in the world. I have mountains and the ocean less than an hour away. It's almost surreal being at the beach on a beautiful, sunny day and looking off into the distance and seeing snow capped mountains. It is awe inspiring and absolute proof that God does exist. We're also known as the 'polite' country. How can you go wrong with that? We're known for saying please and thank you, and a Canadian flag on a back pack in Europe makes friends faster than a smile and a hand shake, that's for darn sure. We send troops into countries on peacekeeping missions, not invasions.

I have always been proud to be Canadian, but moreso over the past few months. Many saw or heard of the horrific incident in Iran where a young philosphy major was shot point blank, fighting for what she believed in - Freedom. Something I take for granted almost every day. I'm almost ashamed to admit I didn't vote in the last civic election, and this young woman died solely for that right. I live in a country where I can believe in God and not be persecuted. I live in a country where my rights as a woman, and as a single mother are protected. I live in a country where health care is free (or nearly so) and available when ever I need it. I have access to government funded programs that help me network with other young mothers, and teach me how to be a better one myself. There are programs to help me if I get laid off from work, both financially and education-wise. I live in a country that has back up plans for natural disasters and agencies that are prepared to save lives and provide a safe place (food, shelter, etc...) in event a disaster does occur. I live in a country that not onlyaccepts other nations, other religions, other cultures, but encourages them and prides itself in being a multi-cultural society. I live in a community with Philippinos, Fijians, Sri Lankans, and little ole white me...

The next time I feel like bitching about taxes or laws or the government that leads my country, I hope I remember how fortunate I am to be a woman in Canada. If I had been born in any number of other countries, it surely would be a different story . I am not only proud to be Canadian, I feel so fortunate to be so. I pray for the young women and men in Iran who are fighting for rights that I accept as reality every single day.

And if all that weren't enough, our beer rocks!! Yes, I am Canadian. Happy Canada Day, eh!