In the spring 15 years ago high school had started with a  bang and I had made some bad decision.  I ended up in a place where, unknown to me at the time, the guidance counsellor I was assigned to see at my school had called in a counsellor from an additions agency because she didn’t think I was going to live to 18.  At the rate I was at, I wasn’t going to be finishing school.  I wasn’t going to be doing much of anything, actually. And I looked around and I just didn’t want to go there.  I don’t know what moment hit me, or when I decided to try and turn it around, but I know in my head I felt like I was having fun where I WAS but didn’t want to go where I was GOING. So feeling guilty for pulling away from my friendships and conflicted on what the ‘right’ thing was, I made a choice. Full Disclosure – I don’t own a decent picture of me in highschool.  So this is the summer after graduation. In the spring 14 years ago I was back on track to finish high school but I was lonely and a little lost.  Then one day an old childhood boyfriend popped back in my life and everything changed.  We knew it was different.  We knew we had to see where it went. So knowing he was months away from basic training and with my college acceptance letter in hand, I made a choice. In the spring 13 years ago I knew I had 3 years of school left for my Undergrad degree, but…

Lately, Drama has taken up a habit of arguing over what’s ‘fair’. When things don’t go her way, when she gets in trouble, when she gets angry at me or her father or her brother’s, her first reaction lately is to cry foul. “That’s not FAIR!” And I tend to react the same way every time. “Life’s not fair, my dear.  That doesn’t change what happened.  Sorry.  Move on.  Deal with it.  Listen to me.  I don’t care what you think is ‘fair’. Because really, I need to teach her something. She can’t hit her brother, even if he started it.  Sometimes, she has to pick up the slack when her brothers are somewhere else and she has to clean up.  If she had a few late nights, she needs to go to bed earlier tonight.  It doesn’t seem fair to her, but that doesn’t need there’s not a purpose to what’s happening. Well, the irony was not lost on me when this week, God and I had a little throw down. He does not understand my concept of fair. And why is that? Why do I have a beautiful, kind, compassionate friend who can almost field a baseball team of boy children in her home, who lost one child in pregnancy. A girl. That’s not fair. Why did Jesus Freak carry her beautiful baby boy only to see him live in this world for moments before he slipped away? That’s not fair. Why are there so many families living without their soldiers when mine is…

Lately, poor Monster started having headaches. When the first one happened he asked to come home from school because his head hurt and then all he wanted to do was lay there, covering his eyes.  We thought it was the change in surroundings, his aunt was there babysitting him for the week and he isn’t fond of change. But a few weeks later, the same thing happened.  And then one night, he woke up screaming, holding his head and dry-heaving from the pain.  Some water and soothing talk and he eventually calmed back to sleep. The poor guy is developing migraines. So I made 2 appointments.  One with the doctor, because it seems like due diligence to make sure there is nothing the doctor believes is physically wrong (and he doesn’t) and the chiropractor.  Because I love the Chiropractor and I know it’s been known to help for other’s so I thought we’d give it a shot. And Monster had a great time!  There was some checking, a few minor adjustments and thankfully my sensory child is the opposite of most and really, really, REALLY likes being touched.  So it all went well. But as I discussed it with friends and on facebook, the most common response that I got was to ask about changing his diet to see if eliminating a certain food might help. And I don’t blame them.  I’m all for finding a natural remedy for things.  And I normally appreciate suggestions.  But here’s the thing. Monster eats less than 12 kinds of food at any given time. Cheese  (preferably string, occasionally Babybel, rarely block) fried egg sandwiches (were…

I’m starting to get over the embarrassment of saying ‘this person I know on Twitter’…. But seriously, this person I know on Twitter, she has a book out. It’s called ‘Falling For Your Madness’ by Katharine Grubb And the other day, after seeing her post about it, I went ahead and downloaded it onto my Kindle. I thought, what the heck.. It’s $4!  I can support this independent author and add to my library. So then this morning, I’m sitting with my tea and opening a book I’m not super into but trying to finish anyways, and I remember I bought this one So I start. I’m not a ‘romance’ reader.  I tend to like crime drama and thrillers and such, but I thought, hey, lets give it a try.  It’s got to be better than what I’m reading now! And friends, several hours later and much neglected work and I’m done. It was adorable!  It’s quirky and completely different from the most popular type of romance out there now (the ones about colours and such). I’m not going to summarize.  You can read that on the Goodread’s site.  I’ll just say it made me heart happy and let me escape for a morning instead of stressing about the upcoming dentist appointment. And so, because this book 1.  made me happy and 2. supported an independent writer who needs to get noticed I decided to let you all know about it! You can check out Katharine Grubb’s Goodreads page where you can buy the book for $4 (which…

My last few posts have taken a lot of emotional energy. So I thought I’d lighten the mood by getting something off my chest. When I was in high school (which was, you know, not that long ago….*cough*) you could only like a one kind of music. You could like EITHER hip hop and dance music, OR alternative/rock music. Not both. If you liked both, you didn’t FIT anywhere.  And high school is all about where you FIT.  So you just had to choose. And I fell into the alternative/rock category.  Dressed in silvers jeans and halter tops with ball chain jewelry and rings on all my fingers, undone plaid shirts for jackets and a big yellow Sport Walkman on my hip all the time. In order to fit into the skater crowd I surrounded myself with I needed to do just two things: 1. Love punk/rock/alternative music.  The more obscure the better. 2. Passionately hate rap/hip-hop/dance music.  And obviously country, too.  I mean, that was a whole other group of kids who wore trench coats and cowboy hats!  So I did.   It was all lamenting that the Sex Pistols were before my time (shut up!  They were way before my time!) and listening to the Rainbow Butt Monkeys before they changed their name to the radio friendly Finger 11. While simultaneously mocking the preppy kids and their gangsta-rap in the suburbs. I wore a black arm band when Kurt Cobain died.  My first concert was Green Day when I was 13 and they had *just* made it big. I tried desperately to sneak into the dirty rocker bar in town to see Hole.&nbsp…

Today, I have a new post. But you have to work for it. Today, I talk a little about what it means to do it alone and what it means to ask for help. So check it out over at my girl Erika’s blog, Chambanachik, and while you are there, stick around for more of her.  She’s pretty awesome herself and she makes cute babies! Need another link to click on to find it? >>>>>> click here<<<<<<<<   (I like to make it painfully easy for you…

I shared a little while ago about the new, rescued, Border Collie addition to our family, Trooper. Since that time, there has been Obedience Training. And quiet time. There’s been family walks.  And furniture that now looks far more ‘lived in’ than it did before. But so far, we’ve started the adjustment to life with a dog. And so has Dh. Because here’s the truth – Dh doesn’t really like pets. Not his.  Not other people’s.  He likes animals, don’t get me wrong.  But not enough that he’s ever been willing to put up with any possible inconveniences caused by them. Not shedding, barking, puking, accidents, jumping, scratching, or any and all costs associated with an animal he is responsible for.  He’s never had a desire to have a dog.  Never a willingness to deal with any aspect of owning an animal.  Never an attachment to one. I was actually a little worried about how much he might dislike Trooper when we agreed to get him. But so far….. so far he’s shocked not only me, but his sister who was just here visiting with how much he LIKES this dog. He does things to help him. He goes out of his way to make sure he’s looked after. He…. cares. This, my friends, says a lot. But I didn’t know what it meant, I was just happy it happened. A couple weeks ago, I mentioned here that while Dh and I were talking on vacation, we both spoke up.  He told me some of his dreams for me, and I did the same for him…

About 7 months ago, I sat at Monster’s last case conference at his old school and we had a talk, his teacher, Occupational Therapist, Home Support Worker, Psychologist and I.  And they gave me what basically came down to checks and balances. He loves puzzles. He has a fine motor delay. He aced the intelligence test. He doesn’t understand tone of voice. He shares. He doesn’t like changes in routine. He will sometimes play well with others. He only eats 5 different foods.  Ever. He has a great imagination. He needs to touch. Everything. He seems to focus OK in class. He doesn’t look you in the eye. And it went on. What it came down to:  Every time they want to suggest an assessment or course of action or diagnosis, Monster does something that goes against what a child with that diagnosis would do.  So they were just going to wait and see.  Maybe it would all even out in the end.  So I took my assessments, paperwork, referrals and binder of notes and moved to a new province. And this year at his new school, it’s been more of the same. In fact, where the last school wanted to hold him back, this one wants to push him forward. Sometimes, I swear I have no idea what the right answer is. Last week, after long awaited specialist appointments where the first one told me there was no point to pursuing a diagnosis as long as he was coping well in school, and the second one told me that without a diagnosis there was no way for me to seek help for those issues that are most pressing, I had to take a…

So, this past week DH and I packed up and went to Mexico for our first ever take-a-plane vacation together, house hunting trips not withstanding. And if you follow on Facebook, (which you should, if you don’t.  It’s all kinds of fun) you saw that.  I’m sure you were absolutely spellbound by my instagram pictures of feet at the beach. There was sand, sun and a wedding.  Actually, there were about 2 weddings a day at the resort, but the one I was there for was to stand with my new sister and brother on their big day.  And it was lovely. Dh and I were honoured to be a part and blessed to have just been there. And my new sister?  Ah-mazing. While there, Dh and I got some time to just… talk.  And share things that we think about during our days and then forget in the homework, lunches, dances classes, MMA sessions and bedtimes.  And they never actually get expressed to each other.  Even though we really, really intended to say them. I got to try and verbalize my hope for Dh these next few years at this job.  And he got to really hear it.  And that?  That’s a whole other post that may never be written. But also got to do the same for me,  and my tears came as soon as the first words left his mouth (current time of the month not withstanding). “You’re 31.  And I’ve known you almost 2 decades.  I want you to finally realize who you are and care as much about her as I do.” I…

I have been struggling, writing, rewriting and scrapping posts on entitlement for weeks now. The fact that military families seemed to have moved passed ‘gratitude’ to ‘expectation’ kept stewing in my head and my heart, and while it’s there it’s been doing what makes me the most annoyed…  Making me take a good hard look at myself.   I wanted to write that I think maybe we need to apologise to the rest of the country. Stop with the hissy fits over who does or does not offer discounts. Stop the spoiled backlash about deals you didn’t qualify for or free items that you didn’t receive. Stop the ridiculous one-uppmanship and us-against-them attitude that seems to be seeping in against non-military families. Stop the slow take-over of entitled attitudes from various sectors of the Military community are doing nothing but making the community as a whole look bad. But instead I couldn’t seem to get my thoughts on paper, and so they sat and did nothing, like so many other useless blog posts that start as ideas that never become words. And I’ve learned, when that happens, it’s because I was trying to write about other people instead of writing about myself. Then this weekend came and went. Sunday was Remembrance Day. Hubby dressed all up in his DEU’s as he has done every year of his adult life that he has not been at war himself. The kids and I pinned on our Poppies and drove with him to a cenotaph. There were bagpipes, there were wreaths. We sang O Canada and God Save the Queen. We stood for a moment…