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Sunday, May 31, 2015

The Daily Chai Had a Busy Weekend

Today's chai was just mocking me with every Starbucks I passed because I was too busy to get one.

Had a great weekend with the kids, although it didn't start out to well. Saturday morning, I get a text from my ex saying the rats that Kate keeps as pets have chewed through their cage and are...somewhere in the house. Awesome. Not sure what he expects me to do about it and told him so, he said he was just telling me. Okay. Well, have fun with that, I'm going to Doon Heritage Crossroads with the kids for Ecofest with my friend and her kids. Admission to the museum and the village were free and we had a great time, even though it poured rain the entire day. Lots of really good info about conserving energy and water as well as interesting things to see in the village. Kate loves all the old-fashioned buildings and we stopped for a while at the blacksmith's and he showed us how to make an "S" hook. Hmmm, maybe I should become a blacksmith. I bet my arms would look awesome! Well, at least one of them would.

By the time we left, we were drenched to the bone and I told the girls we were headed back home instead of to the mall as I had said earlier. Kate lost a tooth on Friday and she knew one of the things we were doing at the mall was getting money for the tooth fairy as the tooth fairy had no cash for a Friday visit. We were also going to shop for shorts and dresses for her because she is constantly growing out of everything she owns. The news that we would not be going to the mall brought on a lot of whinging and I got angry with her.

"Kate, my darling, love of my life, have we not just spent four hours having fun? Are we not soaked to the skin? We need to get home and dry off and you need to be grateful for the things you did get to do today and stop complaining about the things we are not going to do. There is always tomorrow for goodness sake!"

She stopped after that, but I was irritated. I've mentioned before that Kate likes to know the plan, so I will often explain ahead of time what we are doing that day with the disclaimer that things can and probably will change. She has an annoyingly good memory and will hold me to what I've said, but conveniently forgets about the disclaimer.

By the time we got home, I was exhausted, realizing that it was probably too much too soon. While I feel fine, I've been getting tired more easily and I think I'm not taking into enough consideration that I did just have my abdomen cut into and altered. However minor that surgery was, it was still surgery and I have to remind myself to take it a little easier. I told both kids that I would like some quiet time, in which they do not ask me to do anything for them or ask me any questions about the meaning of life. For the love of god, I know I'm awesome, but I do not know why they call it carpet. Or why Anna has birth marks. Or why it's raining. As Kate says though, how does she know that I don't know unless she asks? And, she says sweetly, buttering me up, I often DO know the answers. Okay you little manipulative nut, but can you not ask for about thirty minutes? Thanks.

Anna looked up at me with that sweet smile and said, "When you're done having quiet time, will you come down and snuggle with me?"


"Okay." And off she goes without further protest.

Today, it was off to my mom's classroom as she gave us first crack at her class library before she gives the rest away because she will retire at the end of this month. Kate was thrilled to be going to my old school where my mom now teaches and I showed her some of the hot hangout spots from my youth (the girls's bathroom in the basement and the lunchroom). Then we finally made it to the mall and got Kate clothes for the summer and I got a dress for me for my birthday party. Which I don't technically need, but hey, it's my birthday and I have to make sure I don't look my age, right?

We made it to the theatre in time to see Tomorrowland, which I quite liked, although I fell asleep a couple times. Not because the movie was bad but because I was that tired. Getting old! While the movie was good enough, I would really like to see a movie that I love, just once. The last few have just been meh. I saw the Star Wars trailer on the big screen and I was more excited about that than the feature presentation to be honest!

Made the kids go off to bed double haste some time after dinner because Game of Thrones was coming on. I'm not going to say much about it because I know a lot of you watch it and may not be caught up, but I'm not really sure I like the direction that it's taking. Too much like that other wildly popular show everyone watches, but what can you do? Gotta pander to the masses, I suppose.

I'm going to bed.


Saturday, May 30, 2015

The Daily Chai is Back...Okay, Partially Back.

Today's chai latte was a true blue chai latte and I loved it. Loved the company I was with too, good friends make everything better.

Day three of recovery. Feel almost normal, although not 100%. Right now, I am exhausted having picked up the kids after school, went straight to dance, ran some errands during Kate's class, went to Wimpy's (seriously full and gross feeling, I haven't eaten that much grease in a long time, but it was sooooooo good), got the kids home, saw my mom very briefly, figured out which school the kids will be going to next year, put the kids to bed, talked to a friend about a problem she is going through, made potential plans for next weekend with another friend, checked my email and Facebook and now I'm here. Phew! Early start to the day never seem to mean early to bed for me, unfortunately. God, I'm exhausted all over again reading that paragraph.

We're moving over big stuff in a two weeks and I haven't even started packing. My excuse right now is that I just had surgery. I really like that excuse. I've been using it a lot. I'm sure I've become very annoying actually, but I don't care, I just had surgery. My other excuse is that you don't have to pack the big stuff, it doesn't fit in boxes. So basically, in the moving department, I'm golden.

Sorry folks, I really am that tired that I can't think of a single thing worth recording, so I will leave you with morning coffee only half drunk and my apologies.


Friday, May 29, 2015

The Daily Chai is a Lucky Mama

Today's chai was steamy and hot and made me sweaty. I wish our Starbucks made frappuccinos!

I'm doing pretty well today, I was a bit tired after working all day and quite honestly, by the end of the day I was emotionally drained. Talked to a lot of different people about a lot of different things over the course of work stuff and just the day in general.

I went this evening to take care of the kids while my ex had a thing to go to and it was just a great night with them. Anna and Kate were very interested in my incisions and what happened, so I read them my blog entry (edited for some content, of course!).

I was very proud of Kate today as she told me about her day. She's had a lot of trouble with a kid in her class this year and has told me a lot of stories about him since grade three started in the fall. He was a new kid and she said he'd been in a lot of different schools. He sounds like the class bully, always hitting other kids, yelling, swearing, screaming and generally disrupting the class in one way or another. She's periodically reported back to me that this boy regularly calls her stupid and dumb and causes fights amongst the groups of friends she plays with and she complains often that she just wants him to go away. She told me his older sister is even worse. One day she came home to say that he was now sitting at her group of desks and she has to talk to him all the time now and she hates it. He is always disrupting her at work time and he is mean and always starting fights. He gets sent to the office regularly for time outs and he is JUST THE WORST KID EVER MUM!

I told her that it was not okay for him to act like that and she had to keep telling him to stop and if he didn't, she had to go to the teacher. She needs to stick up for herself and not worry about being rude or keeping the peace because it's never okay to hit, scream or call names. But I also asked her to have some compassion for him and think about why he might act the way he does. "Because he's a jerk mum!" she would cry with exasperation, "He's just a jerk and I don't care why he's a jerk!"

Well. Maybe. Some people are just assholes. I know plenty myself. I thought about what she had told me though, that both he and his sister were alleged trouble makers and although it's not entirely fair to make assumptions about other people's homes, I thought maybe this kid has a pretty rough home life. What makes both siblings into such disruptive and seemingly cruel children? So I continued to give her advice like asking him to stop, telling him she wouldn't play with him if he was mean, telling the teacher if it got out of hand, but I also asked her to try to have some compassion for him. I'm not saying ever that she should put up with that shit, but I think there are reasons that children, especially, act out the way they do. Things are never simple.

I've seen this kid once at the play ground. He is definitely a "bad" kid. He saw me with Kate and Anna, knew I was Kate's mom, looked right at me, smiled and yelled, "Fuck you guys!" to his friends. He then looked slyly back at me to see my reaction. The kid is nine. I ignored the little bugger, he was just trying to shock me, but little does he know I have heard that word once or twice. Then he told Kate with great glee that it was he who had dumped the (full) garbage can all over the ground. So I know from my own small experience with him that Kate has likely not been exaggerating her tales about him.

Tonight she was telling me a story about him being rude and outlandish and then she said, "He apologized to me."

"Wait, what? He apologized for screaming in your face?"

"Yup, he always does now. Whenever he acts like that, I tell him to quit it and he stops and apologizes to me"

"Wow Kate, that's really great! See! Being patient but consistent with him really has helped. I'm proud of you!"

"Yeaaaaahhhh...he told me the other day that he's been to a lot of schools and he never really felt like he belonged anywhere. I felt really bad for him. I told another kid later that we should think of a way to make him feel like he is part of our group, that he belongs with us."

Oh. My. God. I just about started to cry when she said that. This kid has been rotten to her all year and she still has the capacity to feel badly for him.

"Kate, don't you see? You've already made him feel like he belongs. He confided in you, he trusted you with something that obviously bothers him."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess. Well, he's still a jerk and calls me names, but at least he apologizes now. I don't even think he can help it half the time."

"Kate," I shook my head, almost laughing, "You are a good person."

And that's when I realized that she's not just a great kid, or a funny kid, or a silly kid...this goodness in her is going to stick, she is just this way. I am a lucky mama.


The Daily Chai is Awake. So Very Awake

It's 2:00 a.m. And there is no chai. Let me ask you a question. Does chai exist to be ordered or do I exist to order chai? Now I'm the one in existential crisis. 

Obviously I can't sleep or I wouldn't be writing this. I don't know why, I've been lying here for an hour trying to sleep and I can't. Might be the two and half hour nap I took after work. Or the two T3's I took before bed. I thought codeine made you sleepy? Not a chance. But apparently, unbeknownst to me, I've been snoozing and having wicked (drug-induced?) dreams. I just woke up with a start after dreaming my phone suddenly started playing music loudly, simply because I THOUGHT IN MY HEAD, "I wish I could listen to music, it might help me sleep," and loyal Bridgette the IX decides to play a (loud) lullaby for me. Well, of course the music wakes me up, scares the shit out of me, I grab the phone, fumbling to turn it off, ripping the plug out. My mom stomps by to close a window because it's raining (oh shit I woke my mom up and she's mad) and I'm trying to turn the damn music off, but the volume buttons won't work. God! There, it's off. My mom tries to shut my door but can't because there are fairy costumes in the way so she brings those in and puts them in my closet and tugs the door shut. I pretend to sleep to try to fool her about why she woke up. There is silence as I hide under my covers, but why did she leave my light on and I'm feeling guilty for waking her up with my music and it's so bright in here. Holy shit, did my phone really start playing music because it read my mind? 

I just woke up to realize the lights are not on, it's the moon on my white walls and my door has been closed the whole time and my phone is still plugged in on my bedside table. Not playing music. I still wonder if my mom was awake and walking around but at least it's not my fault if she is.  And wait a's not raining either. 

It's about that time something starts screeching outside. It sounds like a hawk screaming although I've never heard a hawk make quite that noise. I do not go to investigate, I'm still wondering if any part of that was real. 

Thursday, May 28, 2015

The Daily Chai is in Recovery Mode

Today's chai was non-existent. What does a girl have to do to get a chai latte around here? Have minor day surgery? Jesus.

I don't know if this is day one or day two of recovery...I guess day one since surgery was yesterday. Or do you count the day you wake up as day one? I have no clue and in any case, I feel alternately okay and alternately like shit. I haven't decided if I will go to work tomorrow or not, I'm going to make that call in the morning. I hate to get into that "I'm so bloody indispensable, the entire corporation will be ashes by Friday if I don't show up tomorrow" bullshit, but I'm a single mom and I have the fear. You know, the fear that if I don't kickass every day, I'm going to lose my job and then I will be really screwed. So I will call it in the morning. I might go in just to get my latte. I'm that desperate.

I watched a movie with my mom tonight called "This is Where I Leave You" and I loved it. Just on a side note, I am really glad I am here in recovery mode with my mummy. She did make me laugh so hard I almost died from abdominal pain, but that wasn't really her fault. She is concerned for me and takes care of me the way only a mum can, the way only my mum can. Whatever happens in this world, wherever I end up, whatever I do, I am grateful for the time I've been given with my mum. I don't just mean this time, this week, I mean all the years I've been lucky to have with her.

Moving on. Some movies stay with you and I think this will be one of them. It was a portrait of family life, married life, sibling rivalry, love, children and all the things that make life so complicated. That was the message that came across so clearly to me -- life is complicated and messy and nothing ever turns out the way you expect, but anything can happen, "anything happens all the time." It's a truly comforting thought.

Another theme was how unhappy and angry most adults are and I realized with a pang that it is true. I look around at people, myself included, and I don't see a lot of happy adults. We have so many cares, so many heartaches, so many disappointments, we forget the simple pleasures of a latte. It's a struggle every day for us to remember the good things as we dwell on the sad. Or we simply think it's normal to be sad and angry and we don't fight for something better.

So I'm going to challenge you, faithful readers, to remind yourselves. Remind yourselves of the simple pleasures like your child's laugh, or the sunshine, or the birds singing in the morning. A coffee with a friend. A delicious bacon-wrapped Canadian maple donut. A soft caress from someone who loves you. Your cares, your worries, your anger, your resentment can't be fixed just by taking note of these things, but it's good start. Maybe if I, or my ex, had taken more care to remember these things, I would still be married.

I apologize for the sap, but I think we can all do better.


Wednesday, May 27, 2015

The Daily Chai is a Disaster

Today's chai was forbidden as I was not allowed food nor drink before my surgery. I didn't eat for almost 24 hours and I thought I might die. I hope I don't have to do that again in a hurry. I really like food. And lattes.

Today I went in for my tubal ligation. Good times. I feel bloated and tired and pretty much like crap even after sleeping four hours this evening. However, emotionally, I feel great. I had a moment of "Am I 100% sure about this, really?" just before they were putting me under and briefly wondered how irritated they would be if I freaked out on the operating table, but then I thought...should I go completely mental and fall in love with someone who doesn't already have two kids to add to my current two kids and I want to have another baby at the age of 45, I will harvest some eggies and get a turkey baster.  I still have all my parts, they just aren't connected to each other anymore. On the other hand, the likelihood of that happening is nil. So I'm good.

Going to the hospital, even for a minor surgery like this, is a little nerve-wracking. I keep telling my kids that I'm a grown up that can handle the adult world, but I often feel overwhelmed when faced with adult stuff. I hate forms and info-gathering and info booklets and I'm always worried I'm going to miss some vital information and not be prepared and be turned away at the door after all this prep. Apparently, I''m pretty good at being prepared, I had everything I needed and I was not turned away. I registered and waited for my name to be called. I left my phone off at home (and suffered withdrawal the entire time) and sat reading my book for a long time before I was called in to start my IV. Gross. Definitely hurt more than your average blood collecting needle. My nurse was happy with my veiny hands, at least someone likes them. Useful after all.

Then it was back to waiting again, this time with my handy drip on wheels. I especially loved my paper slippers, I felt like I was getting real surgery in a real hospital. Someone pushing a bed down the hall called my name and asked me to follow her. Mutli-tasking, good stuff. I went down with her into the restricted area to another...waiting room. Balls. Let's get on with this! So many waiting rooms. Thankfully this was not much of a wait and the same nurse came to collect me and take me to the operating room, which was every bit as bright and cold as you can imagine. It did not have the softly lit ambiance of an operating room from Grey's Anatomy, I can tell  you that, but we all know that is just so they can talk about their sex lives and not have to really see each other in too much cringe-worthy detail, plus their skin looks a lot nicer under those less harsh lights of TVLand.

Moving on. The attending put a warm blanket on me, which was nice because it really was freezing in that room. My nurse asked my name and what procedure I was having done and told me my doctor would ask me the same difficult questions before she began the surgery, so best to be prepared and do some practice tests first.  After all, you never know when I might forget my name or why I was there. My anesthesiologist came in and I recognized him from when he did my epidural for Anna and I told him so. He said, "Oh that's great! Did it work?"

"No, but I won't hold that against you. Just make sure it works today and we can be friends."

I started to get a little nervous when the attending brought the stirrups out and attached them to my bed. I thought they were going in through my stomach, why do we need those?  And then I realized, I just didn't give a shit. And the drugs have kicked in people!! It was about that time the anesthesiologist said I would start feeling sleepy.

And then I woke up.

The end.



Just kidding. I woke up and felt like shit. Groggy and with a little pain at the incision point. On a scale of one to ten, with one being no pain and ten being the worst pain you have ever experienced, what are you? About a three. Okay, yeah, getting to four. And now it's five. Plus I feel like I'm going to vomit. And I need to pee. More drugs and I felt better. Then I started shaking, which was fun but it soon passed. On a scale of one to ten, how do you feel? About a three. Good. I still need to pee. And then I fell asleep. And then I woke up and felt fan-fucking-tastic. And then I fell asleep and woke up feeling like shit. That was about the time they said I could get dressed and go home with my mummy who was waiting outside to pick me up. Went home, ate three wraps of different varieties, some yogurt and some pudding. Then I read that I should have started eating again by ingesting liquids (see what I mean about not reading everything and missing info). Went to bed and slept for four hours. Have now been up for three and been writing to various peeps about my fabulous day and now here I am.

Overheard this while in recovery:

"Okay sir, on a scale of one to ten, what is your pain at?"

"About an eight."

"Eight? Really? Because, like, ten is like being hit by a truck."

"Oh. yeah, I don't feel that bad. Maybe a six."

For whatever reason I thought this was HILARIOUS.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

The Daily Chai Had to Make Do

Today's Chai was of the London Fog variety. I know you're thinking. What the fuck is a London Fog? It's not just a trench coat, I can tell you that. Those lovely ladies felt sorry for me and suggested they make me chai latte using a chai tea bag instead of the favour shot. Well, wonders never cease. They whipped up some milk, put in some sugary syrup and popped a chai bag in there. Not as good as the real thing, but hey!  They gave it to me for free to see if I would like it first so it was win/win as far as I'm concerned.  Plus, when I actually have to pay for one, it's only $2.85 as opposed to $4.80. Single mom saves money.

Just one quick update before I get on with it. Kate's foot is healing nicely, yay! I should go back to school and become a doctor.

Awesome friends, moving, competing divas, resting bitch face. Hmmmmm. I have a lot of things on my mind and it's fucking with my writing mojo. I may be an open book, but there are several things that are off limits, that I will not write about. These include: where I work, what I do, co-workers, my ex's story and the real reason why we broke up, the stupid thing my ex is doing now and relationships with boys that I may or may not have. So! I have to come up with something interesting to talk about that has nothing to do with those subjects. Today I asked for help.

There is this girl named Jenna. She is pretty awesome. The end.

Moving sucks. Packing sucks even more.

Divas are good people that have taken a wrong turn. They don't mean to be selfish bitches, but they honestly do not even understand that other people find their self-absorption offensive, irritating and rude. Shit, I think I may have just described myself. Oops.

Ahh...resting bitch face. It's really a pity, because so many people have it and they can't even help it. Some of you may not have heard of this syndrome, but it's quite serious. It's when you have what you think is a totally neutral expression on your face but you actually look like you are about to murder puppies. If people tell you all the time that you should smile more, it's because your resting bitch face is scaring the crap out of them. People may ask you what's wrong a lot, or think you're mad at them. And you get exhausted trying to explain all the time that you aren't mad or upset or anything. You are just thinking about what you might make for dinner. Or when they find out you are actually really nice, they act surprised. Like, really surprised and you're like, what the fuck? And then they think you aren't that nice anymore. In an effort to be less bitchy, you might even try to smile more, but it just hurts your face. Or people are always apologizing for bothering you when they aren't bothering you at all, but they apologize again and all you can think is, "Can you please just get on with it because now you are bothering me and you're wasting my time apologizing for wasting my time. Please stop." This definitely does not help with resting bitch face because now it's real bitch face and it scares people even more. They might even apologize again and you are starting to feel like you might scream if they don't get to the point. Or your spouse accuses you often of looking at him like he is an idiot even though you have very carefully made your face neutral in order to avoid that very accusation. That, my friends, is resting bitch face. You couldn't make a neutral face if your marriage depended on it. Sadly, there is no cure. Your face just looks like you hate everyone and everything and for the love of god, did they just use "lay" instead of "lie" AGAIN? WTF? If you have resting bitch face, you should just own that shit. There are some bonuses, after all, to having resting bitch face. People tend to get out of your way so you don't need to waste time saying, "Excuse me." They don't even start an argument with you because they take one look at your "expression" and know you will win anyway, so it's hopeless. You might be really crap at winning an argument, but you don't even have to try, so it's all good. Also, smiling gives you wrinkles, so why bother?


Monday, May 25, 2015

The Daily Chai Loves Her Mom

I haven't gotten my chai and I have a feeling I will be disappointed because I was told on Friday that they don't have any chai mix and might be out for awhile. That damn chai is having another existential crisis. 

This will be a quick entry because I have to go to bed but I just had to say, I love my mom. She was just leaving the house as I was getting ready to go out on Saturday night and I said, "Have fun tonight, I'll see you tomorrow!" This was her response:

My response was, "Of course mummy. No sex IS safe sex!" 

And yes, I am well aware that I used the wrong "by" in my text. Sue me.


Sunday, May 24, 2015

The Daily Chai Had a Good Time

Today's Chai has been very tardy. Not sure I will get this published before my midnight deadline!

Another childless weekend comes to a close and I have to say, I spent most of it sleeping. Thrilling, I know, but honestly, I get so little sleep during the week, this old gal needs it when the chance arises.

I do like the single life for its spontaneity. When I was married and wanted to have a girls' night, I'd have to plan something weeks and sometimes months ahead of time just to make sure my kids' would be cared for while I was out. Plus, you have things going on with other families that mean you don't have a lot of weekends free to go out dancing. However, with my new-found freedom every other weekend, when someone says, "What are you doing tonight, do you want to go out?" I can say yes please!

So last night was spent drinking and dancing and generally having a good time at a local club with one of my closest friends. I am reliving my youth! Ha! And feeling how very far away that youth is when I wake up in the morning! I had one of those Norwex parties to go to at noon, which was great because I got to see a couple of my girlfriends that I absolutely adore, but I went home after and went to bed. Also great!

I also got a chance to FaceTime with my girls and for once, it was a good conversation with no crying and fuss about not wanting to say goodbye and they both actually talked to me instead of wandering away or sitting there picking her nose (that would be Anna, because Kate thinks it's super gross and would never EVER do that mummy). Lovely little people they are. And Kate has decided she wants me to buy her a mermaid tail that she can really swim in while wearing it. Did you know this is a real thing? After we hung up, I got about seven texts begging me to buy them both mermaid tails, complete with screen shots. My non-committal reply will mean nothing to her, I'm sure. These things start at $60! Jebus.

I leave you with dreams of mermaid tails and summer fun....summer is coming folks!!


Saturday, May 23, 2015

The Daily Chai Discusses Embarrassment

Today's chai was consumed right before the most amazing massage a girl could ask for. Anyone out there looking for an RMT, call Travis Bunyan.

I've been thinking a lot today about embarrassment and how I must be some sort of freak or something. Very little embarrasses me and my life is an open book which I'm starting (FINALLY) to understand makes other people uncomfortable. I will literally spill the beans to anyone I know, discretion has never really been a priority for me.

Now, you have to understand that I can keep a secret, especially other people's secrets. Those aren't mine to tell so I keep my mouth shut. I can also keep secrets that involve me and other people because those are also not mine to tell and I don't want to be the person putting anyone in a tight spot. I also stop just short of telling strangers on the street my problems (says the girl who publishes her troubles in a blog, but little do you know how much discretion and actual restraint has gone into the writing of this blog!). But to the people I trust, the people I like, the people I feel a connection to, there are few secrets between us. It's part of the reason I can write this blog with such freedom because I don't mind other people knowing about my happiness or my pain, as the case may be. I don't mind talking about my feelings or the things that have happened to me. I've even been told a few times that my openness has helped someone get through a tough time because they realize that their problems are similar to mine. Or, because I created an atmosphere of truth and confidence, they felt they could talk to me about their troubles.

Hearing that makes me happy. Like, truly happy. I live to hear shit like that. I know I talk a lot, but I also listen a lot too and nothing makes me happier than to hear I've helped someone. There is, however, a drawback to my lack of discretion. It embarrasses the hell out of people, it makes people uncomfortable to be around me because I will come right out and say the reason I will be off for a couple days next week is I'm having surgery to get my tubes tied. Most people think of this as private information. So do I, I just don't care about sharing it. I've never been especially good about lying (unless it was about how much I spent on that pair of shoes to my ex) and I've never been quick to make up fake, comfortable stories to make people feel at ease and added to that, I feel the need to explain myself. So the fact that I will be off for a day next week and then working from home the day after needed an explanation and I chose to tell the truth. Because I don't see anything wrong with what I'm doing except that it involves my lady parts. But not even the good lady parts, just the hidden, inside lady parts. So who cares?

Evidently, a lot of people. It's almost amusing to watch them squirm, but I realized something. While I wasn't embarrassed to tell people the truth, I was embarrassed that I made them feel that way. It was like, after the words were out, I realized that it was too much information and I probably should have kept my mouth shut. You have to understand, I didn't tell everyone in the world (until now maybe) that I'm getting my tubes tied. I told a few co-workers that needed to know I wouldn't be in the office. I said, "I'll be off on Tuesday to have surgery and I'll be working from home the next day." and then there was the concerned, oh jeez, are you okay? And in waltzes my silly need to explain because I don't want people to worry, "Oh, no, no, I'm fine, I'm just getting my tubes tied."

"Oh." Let the uncomfortable squirming begin.

The funny thing is, once I've told people this uncomfortable bit of information, they feel the need to tell me I'm making a mistake. Ha! I'm almost 38 years old and I have two kids and I'm on my way to a divorce. I'm just being responsible to my own self and to my kids. 'Nuff said.


Friday, May 22, 2015

The Daily Chai Needs Some Excitement

Today's chai was good. Really, really good. Plus, I got a laugh out of that sweet girl that serves it every morning and it made my whole day.

Judging from the lack of readers from yesterday's post, writing about being tired is not an attention getting subject. Sorry about that. 

Once again, I face my last night before leaving my kids for a week and they are now in bed asleep and I have a little quiet time. It's been a good week with them, especially having them over the long weekend. It makes me laugh because we get stir crazy in the winter, staying in most evenings, just watching TV or hanging out and spring comes and all I want to do is be outside, walking, exploring, biking etc. Today was a beautiful evening and instead of begging to go to the park, they insisted we have a movie night.  They've actually been begging for it all week and with one thing or another, we just never had enough time to watch a whole movie. Tonight, I got them ready for bed right after dinner and we watched Pitch Perfect. Not entirely appropriate for a nine and a four year old, but they seemed to enjoy it since it was a lot like Glee, which is a family favourite. Our favourite line was, "I'm going to finish him! I'm going to finish him like a cheesecake!"

After the movie Kate insisted that I feel a lump on her foot that she said hurt so much she couldn't walk on it. Wait, what? When did this start? I hadn't noticed her limping and Kate, the Queen of Complainers, had not once said her foot hurt her until tonight. 

"I don't know, remember I said I thought stepped on cat kibble at Nan's house?" 

"Kate! That was on Monday, it's now Thursday! Let me see!"

I dutifully look at her smelly foot (ew) and sure enough, there is a hard lump on her heel. I make the mistake of pressing on it and she starts screaming bloody murder at me and pounding the bed with her fists. Okay, so it hurts when I do that then. Good to know. It is red and swollen and looks infected, but why, I have no idea. I can see a little spot in the middle of the swelling and wonder if she'd been stung by a bee, but I'm positive I would have heard about something like that when it happened. So then I think maybe it's just a little sliver that's become infected after being stuck in there for three days.  The only thing I can think to do is open the hole a little bit with cuticle clippers and squeeze the mother effing shit out of this lump. You can imagine this plan of action does not go over well. I ask her to please not kick me in the face and her reply is a shrill, "I probably will!" She does not kick me in the face, but she shrieks and cries and coughs so much I think she's going to barf on me while I'm working over her foot. 

Then a little bit of pus comes out so I tell Kate there is indeed an infection in her heel, but I still can't see why. I squeeze some more, hoping something, anything, will come out and give me the source of the infection. The entire time, Kate screams in my ear that she hates me and that I have to stop and it hurts SO MUCH, please please, please stop. Anna, after standing there watching and yelling at me to stop hurting her sister, flees at the sight of pus and blood oozing from her sister's heel. She stays put in her room, crying in her bed and still yelling at me to stop hurting Katie. I start feeling a little frantic myself, as I'm sure you can imagine, with all this screaming going on and one daughter in what appears to be genuine pain. 
Remember this?

All of a sudden, a tiny sliver of glass pops out, clean as a whistle! Kate is so shocked, she stops crying and says indignantly, "Glass? I had a piece of glass in my foot for three days?" She immediately starts screaming again about how she hates glass and she is never going barefoot again and why was there broken glass on the floor ANYWAY?!??!! Because Kate, three and half weeks ago, my ass broke a glass and apparently I didn't do a very good job cleaning it up.

Mom guilt explodes. Of course, I didn't actually tell her it was probably from my broken glass, she would never let me forget it. She has a memory like her mother.

On second thought, I can live without excitement, thanks.


Thursday, May 21, 2015

The Daily Chai is Really Very Tired

Today's chai was tasty.

I've been staying up until about 1:00 am every night, writing this blog, editing this blog or researching for this blog. Okay, that last part is more like...facebook creeping, reading tweets and general web surfing, but I believe that "researching" makes me sound more credible and honestly, where do you think I get my inspiration for this blog? So, I feel that it is fair to call it researching as long as I put that little disclaimer in there.

Moving on. My point is that I'm tired. Like, really tired. I grab my chai most mornings with this one friend of mine and he asks me how I am and every day I laugh and say, 'Dude, I'm so fucking tired, I stayed up until 1:00 am writing" and he looks at me like I'm nuts and says, "I don't know how or why you do that to yourself." Dude. I do not know either. Compulsive obsession? Pig-headedness? I've challenged myself to write every day for a year, but no where in that challenge did I specify that I needed to stay up until 1:00 am to write it. However, I am just that stubborn and if it means I'm up late writing, then I damn well do it.

Unfortunately, that sometimes means the quality of my work suffers. I write about stupid shit like how late I stay up to write. RIVETING. #sorrynotsorry.

God, the #soullesslattedrinker strikes again.

Someone asked me in the elevator, "How are you?" And you know, I was well aware that he was just asking to be polite and he expected the "I'm good and you?" answer. Poor guy did not get that answer. I decided, in all my wisdom, to verbally vomit all over him and tell him in one minute each excruciating thing that happened to me the day before and that was just yesterday's story. I didn't even get to last week, or the week before that. We walked out of the elevator together and I'll give him this, he didn't run for his office like a normal, over-loaded human being. He stood there, looking completely stunned at my revelations and just shook his head in awe. Like, this educated, well-spoken man was speechless at what I told him. We have worked together for years, he is a good guy and I consider him a friend, don't worry, I'm not so nuts these days that I would unload that shit on an acquaintance. But he is also a busy guy and doesn't have a lot of time to chat. I just looked at him and said, "I'm sorry, you asked me how I was and I'm sure you immediately regretted it. I'm great! Thanks for asking!" and we both started laughing and went our merry way. The thing is, he's asked me every day I've seen him how I'm doing for the past few weeks and I want to answer with, "I'm a women on the edge! I'm losing my shit to be honest!" But I always chirpily say, "I'm good! Living life! How are you?" I listen politely to his noncommittal answer and then continue on with what I'm doing.  Today, I just couldn't fake it. Weak moment.

I also had a moment with another employee (not someone I work with, just someone I know) today that I actually laughed about later, it was so ridiculous. She asked me how my role was going and I said it was very good and that I had a great working relationship with my boss, so I'm happy to stay where I am for a while longer. She said that was wonderful, "You know Meg, if you can do a good job and you're happy and then you can go home and be a good mother and a good wife, that's what it's all about." And I replied with, "Yes, well, I'm getting a divorce."



Wednesday, May 20, 2015

The Daily Chai is Starting a New Chapter

Today's chai was had with a tiny bit of guilt knowing I indulged in all the bad food this weekend. But I can't give up my daily chai. What would I write about?

The offer on our house firmed up today and I signed the acknowledgement with a little bit of sadness and a little bit of relief and sent it back to my realtor. Ambivalent is the very best word to describe my feelings this afternoon. 

Someone once told me that each step of divorce comes with its own little whammy of "go fuck yourself" and just as you've been doing fine for weeks or months, some new step comes along and kicks you in the teeth. With that first heartrending decision to separate to the actual divorce, there are many steps in between that come with their own set of "fuck my life" feelings. Separation agreements, selling your house, moving out, signing divorce papers all come with their own baggage. And it's still not really over because the next whammy (or maybe it happened already) is your ex starts seeing someone. Or they get married. Or have a baby. With each event, you just have to deal with the emotions that arise or you will drown. Maybe you don't really care that much about one step or another, but one of them will hit you in an unexpected way and suddenly you find yourself sobbing in your car on the way home from work and wondering how everything got so fucked up. 

While I've had a lot of other things happening these days that have made me sad, I've been trucking along concerning my separation and inevitable divorce. I've been doing the whole cohabiting thing on the weeks I'm with the kids and it's been awkward, difficult, and, at times, infuriating. It's also been kind of just normal. I don't like being here because it used to be my happy place and now it is very much not, but I just do my thing with the kids and get through the evening and do it all again the next day. Basically it's just been like this for weeks, nothing changing, nothing happening. Life. 

Today, however, we sold our house. The house we bought with such high hopes when we still lived in Germany. The house I thought was my forever home because I was never fucking moving again. The house my kids were supposed to grow up in. And while I know that selling it is a good thing and it means I can really move forward and stand on my own two feet, come hell or high water, I found myself fighting tears of anger and grief and just plain hurt as I sat at my desk working on a bloody budget. This is what I wanted, what I chose, but it doesn't make it easier to live with, I can tell you that. I told myself I was being ridiculous, but I was honestly fighting the urge to call my real estate agent and begging her to find some way to reverse the process, that I didn't want someone else living in my house. Perhaps that is just because I really hate moving, but I doubt it. 

This is just another step on the road to divorce, but it kicked me in the teeth today. Par for the course, I suppose. I'll bounce back, I seem to be unstoppable, but that's because my heart just keeps beating and life marches on. I can't stop and I can't stop life from happening. The hurt about the house will fade a little as I settle into my new place and I will hunker down and prepare myself to deal with the next step. You never know how it's going to hit you, but I suspect, as sad as I will be about signing divorce papers, I think I will also be a little euphoric. I will be free. 

Moving on.


Tuesday, May 19, 2015

The Daily Chai Says Farewell to the First Long Weekend of the Summer

Today's chai didn't come out to play. Balls.

I took the kids to see the Avengers: The Age of Ultron today. I don't even know what to say about this movie. I loved the action scenes and the silly humour is always appreciated, but when they started waxing philosophical about the fate of the human race all I heard was, "Blah, blah, blah." Save the deep introspection for the dramas and get on with the six or seven plot lines you've pasted together. With so many super heroes, there were a lot of separate stories to keep track of, but I will say this: I have to get me a Chris. Pine, Hemsworth, Evans or Pratt would do just fine. Now, I know, I know, two of these Chrises are not even in the Avengers, but hey, my mind was wandering so much while watching the movie that it doesn't even matter. Hmmm...I wonder if any of them are single? And after a quick Google search it looks like I can narrow that down to Evans and Pine. Hollywood, here I come!

Just kidding, of course. I could never date a guy named Chris.

I took the kids to the fireworks tonight and I can safely say that a good time was had by all. Those girls spend so much time together and of course they squabble, but they really do have fun with each other. I heard Kate say yesterday, "You're my best friend Anna, but don't ever force me to eat grass again, that's just mean." We were in the outfield of the baseball diamond to watch the fireworks and they went off to play tag with each other before the show started. I lay on my stomach, watching them run and felt like a kid myself again. Nothing like lying in the grass on a warm night while the sun sets to make your cares seem far away. I always love to watch Anna run, her little legs pumping up and down to keep up with her sister. I think she might be a runner one day, she is rock solid. I also love how Kate laughs when she is truly having a good time. Nothing can keep that kid down.

After they came back, sweaty and laughing, Kate wanted me to tell ghost stories. I obliged with this one:

"In a dark, dark forest [MOOOOOM, I know this one, it's not even scary], there was a dark, dark house. And in the dark, dark house, there was a dark, dark room [Mom! Seriously, you can't scare me with this one, you've told it a MILLION times]. And in the dark, dark room, there was a dark, dark closet. And [Mom! Tell me a REAL ghost story, come on!] in the dark, dark closet, there was a dark, dark box. And in the dark, dark box, there...was...a...GHOST!" And as I yelled ghost, both Anna and Kate screamed and jumped about a mile. Not scary, my ass. Those kids have no faith in me to tell a good story. Jeez.

Anna, especially, thought the fireworks were amazing but about halfway through, she wanted to know when they were going to be over. Very short attention span, that one. No idea where that com....SQUIRREL!

As we walked the half kilometre back to the car in the dark, Anna started saying she was scared and that we were lost and we would never get back to the car. I just laughed and said I knew perfectly well where the car was, don't you worry little chicken. Then Kate gets in on it with, "Mom, I don't think this is the street we came down, I think we're lost. You don't know where we're going, do you?" Of course, that got Anna going even more and she starts whining about being lost and were we just going to wander around looking for the car all night and she was SO TIRED MUMMY! Jesus. Have some fricking faith!

"Kate, Anna, seriously. I'm a grown-up. I know how to get around. I know where the car is. I know what street we're on. Did I not get you safely to Vancouver and back? On a plane? Plus drive you all over Vancouver without getting lost very often? I also managed to get us to Victoria and back ON A BOAT and we somehow managed to survive, even though I know the chances were very slim that I could handle the situation. Trust me. Grown up. I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, but mom, that was on a boat. The boat knew where to go, you barely had to do anything."

Jesus! Those little ingrates!

Then I looked around and realized we had indeed turned down the wrong street and I did not, in fact, know where we were. Dammit!

Not to worry faithful reader, it's a small town and we were just taking the scenic route! I found the car eventually and we made it home, both girls passed out cold by the time we got here.

Happy long weekend, hope y'all had as much fun as we did!


Monday, May 18, 2015

The Daily Chai Talks About Grief

Today's chai was of the frappuccino variety again. I'm hooked.

I recently had someone tell me that my trip to Vancouver was heavy and that maybe I need a debrief with the counsellor I was talking to after my marriage imploded in the fall. I said that was probably true,  but I've thought about that a lot lately and I call bullshit. I'm sad because my friend is dying. It's a completely normal feeling to have when someone you care about is dying, especially from a terrible disease. It's called grief.

Let me point out that I'm not lying in bed, crying for absolutely no reason. I'm not lying in bed, unwilling to get up because I just can't. I'm not lying in bed wishing I was dead. I'm not spending my days isolating myself from the people I love. I'm not sitting here wondering why I feel so fucking sad all the time. People who feel this way are suffering from clinical depression. They need help to cope with the feelings that debilitate them, that stop their lives from moving forward. They need help to guide them through it and come out on the other side and I wish everyone who suffered from this invisible disorder could get the support they need. Depression is a shitty, terrible condition to suffer from and I've lost people I care about to that selfish bitch.


I have very good reasons for being sad. I'm grieving. I'm losing someone I care about. I said goodbye to her a few weeks ago knowing I would likely never see her again. Since she is fading and unable to communicate very much, I will not be able to talk to her again. My last moment with her will be my last contact with her in this life. I worry about her husband, whom I've grown to love and her kids, one of whom I still don't know very well, but regardless, I care a great deal for him and see what a sweet kid he is. The other kid, oh what a kid....she holds a special place in my heart that no one can touch. I love these people and I worry about their future and I can't do anything to help them get through this time except send them a text or give them a call and tell them I'm here. I grieve for myself and my own loss, but I grieve for them too. I grieve for Margriet and all that she will miss. Fuck you cancer.

And I'm angry. Oh lord, am I ever fucking angry. Anyone who has lost a loved one to cancer will comprehend the anger I hold in my heart about this turn of events.

So to be sad about this, to be angry about this, this is NORMAL. It's okay to feel things. It's okay to express those feelings. I don't think we need to run to a counsellor every time we have a feeling. I'm not, by any means, saying that talking to a professional during a trying time is a bad idea. But I think people in general have become so dependent on seeking help that they don't know how to help themselves. They can't cope with even the smallest problem without saying, "I need a counsellor, I need therapy."

Listen up folks, you aren't always going to get it right. You are going to make mistakes. You are also going to get it right.  You are going to feel pain. You are going to feel euphoria. You are going to FEEL. And it's all good. It's okay. Seek help if you feel you need it, it's out there and it's readily available. But don't feel guilty because you feel sad or angry or even a little depressed and you choose to deal with it in your own way. I choose to express my feelings by writing about them, but you may express them by lying in bed and crying. I do that too! And I talk to people. And I write. And write.  If you know WHY you are crying and you know one day this too shall pass, then you are halfway there. If you aren't hurting anyone and you depend on your friends to get you through it, that's okay too. That's what your friends are there for and I guarantee you that they will need you one day too. All you can do is be there for them the same way they were there for you. all my friends that have listened (or read about) my troubles for the past few months, thank you. I guarantee that I will be there for you when you need me.


Sunday, May 17, 2015

The Daily Chai is Having a Mad Max Marathon Weekend

Today's chai is a little tardy this weekend. Sorry about that. I can't always be available to entertain you, I can only promise to be entertaining when I am. Besides, it's the long weekend, give a latte a break, would ya?

In honour of the new Mad Max movie out this weekend, I've been watching the trilogy this weekend. I think I loved the movies as a kid because my brother loved the movies as a kid. I remember very clearly that David had a birthday party and we watched one of the Mad Max movies in our awesome attic family room and I was just riveted. I was probably six years old. Which makes me laugh because I wouldn't allow Kate or Anna watch any of those movies in a million years! I watched the second one last night and even as an adult I cringed at a few of the scenes of carnage and destruction. Remember that one part where the guy is working under a truck and a car comes flying through the air, smashes into the truck and the guy underneath is crushed? Oh. My. God. No wonder I am so dark and twisty inside, growing up watching that violence. Amazing how I haven't turned out to be a serial murderer though, isn't it? And I still cringe at the graphic violence so I'm not completely desensitized to violence either. INTERESTING. Take that, analyzers of the effect of media violence on children! Just one dark and twisty grown-up.

And yes, I had to look up the difference between effect and affect ONE MORE TIME because I can't remember the difference, but at least I know there is a difference and I am obsessive enough care enough to make sure I use them correctly.

I have decided that everyone on Facebook gets the same amount of likes as everyone else, but you can't go by the numbers, you have to go by percentage. So those of you who are like, omg, that girl gets so many likes...check her friend list...does she have 1900 friends? And she got 162 likes for that fucking awful picture of her feet that she posted and you only got 38 for that adorable kitty picture you posted?  Well, you need to look at the percentage. Only 8.5% of her "friends" liked that post. Meanwhile, you have a much more modest list of 360 people, of which 10.5% liked your post, so don't worry, your kitty picture IS actually better. Don't you feel better about yourself? In this world where the number of likes is the basis for your self-esteem, this is an important distinction.

And that folks, is why you should have paid attention in math. And why Facebook is basically ruining society. My favourite, by the way, is people posting nostalgic pictures of their childhood and why it was SO MUCH BETTER when we didn't have video games, the internet, smartphones and social media to ruin all our good times. You do know that you wouldn't be able to share that picture without three of those four things, right?



Saturday, May 16, 2015

The Daily Chai Visits the Aunts

Today's chai was hot and milky. Must remember to ask for extra spice.

Happy Victoria Day weekend everyone! Isn't the first long weekend of the season the best weekend in the world? Love it! I remember when this weekend meant camping and fires and getting completely shit-faced and spending the entire weekend either drunk or hungover. Good times! Next year I might even have my shit together enough to organize some camping/fires/drinking, but this year I'm spending it with my lovely little people and I couldn't be happier.

When I'm with the kids, I do seem to spend a lot of my time getting things for them and doing things for them before I put my foot down and say, "That's it, if you want water, you know where the tap is!" I don't know how I fall into the servitude trap with them all the time but I'm finally starting to wise up to the fact that they are old enough to do a lot of these things themselves. I have to say, Kate knows I like to sleep a little later than 7:00 am so she got Anna and herself breakfast this morning and even put the dirty dishes on the counter and wiped the table clean. I fricking love that kid! I got to sleep to most wonderful time of 8:43 before Anna had a tantrum about Netflix not working on my iPad.

All of us wearing socks my grandma knit
Two of my aunts recently moved to London, one from Toronto and one from Kamloops and they are setting up house together so today I took the girls to visit them for the afternoon. It was a lovely afternoon with lovely hosts and they are so good with my kids, they have made firm friends out of them. Both of the aunts are artists, one paints and the other makes jewellery and they promised the next time we come, they will have all their art supplies organized and available for the kids to use. I imagine that will mean the girls will never want to leave again. Maybe I can drop them off for a week this summer and run for the hills!

Got back into town and dropped in on my bestie for an hour chat -- study break for her and a little bestie time for both of us! Love that girl, just being in her presence makes me happy. You know when you find someone who laughs at the same silly crap you laugh at, you better take care to love that person hard for the rest of your life. We did a little planning for my birthday shindig which is coming up soon and discussed the only thing either of us wants for our birthdays (which are within three weeks of each other)...that's right, ICE CREAM CAKES. I suggested we share one big one and she looked at me like I'd grown another head. She's right of course, that is just madness. I don't know what I was thinking! I love her, but even I have to draw the line at sharing my ice cream cake.

Since the girls slept all the way home from London, they are currently not even a little bit tired and I can hear them giggling like mad in bed still. Sisterly love can't be beat. I find it astounding that these two can spend the entire day together and still be on speaking terms at bedtime.


Friday, May 15, 2015

The Daily Chai is Yammering About a Bunch of Random Things

Today's chai was having an identity crisis and turned out to be coffee. I was not impressed. I almost threw up. I almost dropped it. I almost had kittens. 

I have decided that I'm going to make internet a verb. As in, I was interneting today and found this really funny article about chai lattes. Just kidding, chai lattes are nothing to joke about. And I actually googled "funny chai latte" and came up with nothing, so I'm sorry I even brought it up.

Anyway, I believe this could become a thing. Interneting. Ever notice how most nouns are also verbs. These are the things I think about. My mind never shuts up, it's very annoying. So the next time you are standing there thinking I talk too much, just imagine what it's like inside my head and be grateful that you aren't in there. Things could always be worse. Lesson learned. 

Also, here is your grammar lesson for the day:

Instantly is an adverb and therefore describes a verb or action
"He died instantly."

Instantaneous is an adjective and therefore describes a noun
"It was an instantaneous response."

"Instantaneously" isn't really a word.  People use "instantaneously" when they could just use the word "instantly". 

Dammit. It's already a thing:

That's it. I give up. There is nothing original in my brain. Everything has been said and done and therefore there is nothing to say anymore. 

Just kidding! I still have plenty to talk about. Just not tonight.


Thursday, May 14, 2015

The Daily Chai Thinks Humanity is Screwed

Today's chai is just a blur as I frantically tried to keep my head above water at work today.

So the net is buzzing about this guy that said, "fuck her right in the pussy" to a news reporter yesterday and has subsequently been fired from his job as a result of his incredible stupidity and vulgarity. In case you have not been checking your feeds on any of your social media, you can read about it by clicking here. Also, #FHRITP does indeed stand for "fuck her right in the pussy." Apparently this hashtag has been "trending since last year".

I have so many, many things to say about this hoopla.

First of all, what kind of phrase is "fuck her right in the pussy" anyway? You seriously couldn't come up with anything better? Being as there are limited places you can fuck a woman, this is the type of blatantly obvious instruction that stupid guys apparently need because if you didn't say it, they wouldn't know what to do with their penises. I just don't even understand how this phrase became an insult to yell out to random strangers.

Second of all, why on earth is this phrase TRENDING for the past year? What is there to trend? Do people bitch about women on Twitter and then hashtag it with #FHRITP? I mean, I get why it's trending TODAY, because of the hoopla over this incident, but trending for the past year? Why? It's a ridiculous phrase that barely makes sense as an insult. Oh jeez, my old lady is really bumming me out better #FHRITP. Whoa, did you see that hot bitch #FHRITP. Seriously? Is this how we talk to each other now? Is this how we communicate our ideas?

Third of all, What. The. Fuck? Who the hell yells such a vulgar, sexually explicit, disrespectful and, let's be honest, violent bit of filth a) to a women, b) to a stranger, c) to a reporter and d) on camera?

a) Men, seriously, MOST OF YOU ARE A THREAT TO MOST WOMEN. I'm not saying all men are rapists, very far from it. But almost all men can, if they wanted to, overpower most women. You have physical strength over us that cannot be denied. I have never in my life felt safe walking down the street at night alone. I have made sure, my entire life, that I do not put myself in situations where I could be raped or murdered. Not because I think most men are rapists, but because some men are and if they spotted me alone and decided to attack me, I would be powerless to fight them off. Do you have ANY IDEA what it's like to always, always have to be on the alert to strangers, to men that might decide that I'm their next victim? I bet you don't. I bet you have never thought twice about going for a stroll in the evening on your own. I bet it doesn't occur to you to have a safety plan when you go out drinking with your buddies. Sadly, this is just reality to women. Again, not because all men are rapist pigs, but because you all have the potential to be one. So, yelling, "Fuck her right in the pussy," is threatening, it makes women feel unsafe, it makes them feel vulnerable and it reminds us, ONE MORE TIME, that if you choose to be a rapist pig, it's very likely you will succeed.

b) Strangers are people just like us. Just because you don't know her, know her thoughts, know her dreams, know what she had for breakfast, whether she has kids, if she's married, is she smart, does she look at the stars at night, just because you don't CARE ABOUT HER, doesn't mean she doesn't feel embarrassed, angry, sad or hurt the same way you do. If I just randomly screamed at you, "Go fuck yourself, ya creepy bastard!" for no other reason but I thought it would be funny, would that bother you? I'm guessing at the very least, you would be confused and little angry that this crazy woman yelled something so rude at you for no reason. I bet you'd even indignantly tell your buddies about the crazy bitch that screamed at you. So just because she is a stranger and therefore no consequence to you, your words hurt. They leave scars. They are cruel. They are stupid. Think about your own self and your own feelings before you randomly insult strangers.

c) Reporters are public figures doing a job. You may not like what she's reporting, but she's just doing her job. It doesn't give you the right to scream obscenities at her, especially vulgar, threatening obscenities. I fucking hate paying for hydro, but you don't see me screaming at the meter-reader when he comes around to see how much they're going to gouge me this month for the power I need to keep my house running. The other thing about reporters is that they are symbols of our freedom of speech. We live in a pretty great country where we can speak our minds and give our opinions without fear of prosecution, but that freedom is limited to not hating on people with our speech. You can't hide behind "freedom of expression dude!" when your speech infringes on everyone else's right to live safe lives. Living in a safe society, where people, both women AND men, are never assaulted or harassed OVERRIDES the freedom of expression argument. You can't just shout out whatever you want, whenever you want and say it's freedom of speech. That is simply not how it works. There are higher laws than that and you damn well know that's true. Yelling filth at a reporter just shits in the face of your precious freedom of speech.

d) On camera dude. Seriously. It's 2015. That shit is all over the internet and the internet is forever. That one simple moment in your history was caught on camera and that is all you will ever be for the rest of your life. The guy that yelled, "Fuck her right in the pussy!" To a woman reporter. On camera. You are pretty much the dumbest human being on the planet. Oh, besides the other five or six guys that were involved and yelling the same thing. You are also stupid. I hope you all get fired when they identify you. Having read the article that I pointed out above, I am absolutely flabbergasted that this is a thing that is yelled at women reporters often. One reporter had it screamed in her mic three times in one day. Why?

Some of you may be offended that I typed out the full phrase, "Fuck her right in the pussy," but I will tell you exactly why I'm writing it out in full and not sugar-coating it by using FHRITP and F**k her right in the p***y. Because, my faithful and wonderful readers, maybe if people read it enough times in its full vulgar, hateful, sleazy, obscene, plebeian, rude, offensive, violent and disgusting lowliness, it will hit home what a terrible thing it is to say. To anyone. Ever.


Wednesday, May 13, 2015

The Daily Chai Discusses the Bonuses of Being Short

Today's Chai was perfect because it was accompanied by the most delicious carrot cupcake I have ever eaten in my life.

Yesterday, I wrote about all the negatives to living in my midget-y little world. Today, I thought I'd count my blessings and quite my bitching, so I bring y'all the best reasons why I love being short.

1. I can stand up almost straight in my VW Golf which makes it easier to buckle my kids in.

2. I can stand up straight in the cabins of most boats without hitting my head.

3. I rarely hit my head on anything (unless it's an object falling from a grocery shelf).

4. Cute, tall boys offer to help me in groceries stores.

5. I buy children's shoes which is advantageous because, for example, Converse are usually about $30 cheaper in the youth sizes and kids' shoes under $30 don't have sales taxes added.

6. I've purchased capris that double as full-length pants when I roll down the cuff.

7. Most guys exceed the "must be taller than me" rule.

8. I can usually just try on the sample shoe instead of waiting for the salesperson to go to the back and get a pair in my size.

9. It's easy to dart through a big crowd because I'm like a little kid and can dodge under people's arms.

10. I've become an expert at using those pole thingies to get clothes down from the top peg in clothing stores so I don't have to wait around for a salesperson to help me (although I often get in trouble for doing it).

11. I've learned to be resourceful to solve my problems, like using empty cartons to grab things off the top shelf and using barbecue tongs to reach stuff in my kitchen.

12 I always have lots of leg room on planes and in the backseats of cars.

13. I never have to duck under doorways.

...ummmm...Damn. I can't think of anymore. Sorry for the short entry. Oh yes, bad puns. You're welcome.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

The Daily Chai Discusses Short Girl Problems

Every day is Short Girl Appreciation Day
Today's chai was lovely.

I've never minded being short. In fact, I always wanted to be even smaller than I am because I had a girl crush on this tiny person I went to school with and I envied her stature as well as her kickass Levi's with The Doors patch sewn on the tiny butt of her pants. Maybe it was more about how sassy she was than her size, but I digress. 

As I struggled to reach something that was too high today, I started thinking about all my #firstworldproblems short girl problems. I'd like to share them with you so you can understand the struggle is real.

1. Most people seem to think it's okay to comment on how short you are, like you've never noticed or it is somehow your fault that you turned out this way. And it's not the same as being told, "Wow, you're tall," because most people envy height. People rarely envy the short girl.

2. You get a step stool for Christmas and it's literally the best present you've ever received.

3. You can't sit all the way back on a deep sofa because your legs will stick straight out like a five year old's.

4. You have to shorten (or pay to shorten if you aren't handy with the sewing machine) every skirt, dress or pair of pants you have ever purchased.

5. You often produce short children and people comment on their shortness like it's some sort of character flaw. Or, conversely, you manage to produce tall children and no one can get over HOW TALL THEY ARE BECAUSE YOU ARE SO SHORT.

6. Restaurants and bars pose considerable risk for shorts girls. Sitting at a bar is a nightmare because you can't actually reach the bar to rest your feet comfortably, so your legs eventually fall asleep from dangling. Which results in you staggering around like a drunken sailor from pins and needles when you hop off the stool. Which results in lots of jokes about how you can't hold your liquor and how it must because you are so short.

7. Because you can't reach the ground once you're on the stool, you have to rock it back and forth, trying to inch your way forward so you are close enough to the bar to reach your drink. Yes, because your arms are too short to reach it otherwise. This also sometimes results in you falling off said stool which again results in jokes about how you can't hold your liquor and how it must be because you are so short.

8. Or you have to ask your much taller date (because, let's face it, most of your dates are much taller than you) to push you in like you are a child.

9. Or you choose to sit at a normal table, in a normal chair and you STILL can't reach the ground. Booths are also not friendly seating for short girls.

10. Then you have to visit the washroom and your feet don't reach the ground when you sit on the toilet.

11. You sometimes aren't taken seriously because of your childlike stature and when you get mad, people just think it's flipping ADORABLE. And you can't even retaliate by gouging their eyes out, you have to settle for their ankles.

12. People laugh at you when you hop out of a van because you can't comfortably step down without falling flat on your face.

13. People laugh at you while you clamber like a mountain goat into a van because you couldn't possibly step into it like a normal human being.

14. When you gain five pounds it's like a normal person gaining 15.

15. Being the shortest person in a crowded elevator often poses a real risk of suffocation.

16. If you don't wear heels one day, everyone suddenly realizes and can't get over how how amazingly short you are.

17. Your nine year old only has three inches to go before she surpasses your height.

18. You can't sit on a bed in a showroom to test its firmness unless you launch yourself up and onto the mattress.

19. Your favourite tool in the kitchen is a pair of barbecue tongs so you can reach stuff on the top shelf. To add insult to injury, half the time the tongs betray you and the object falls out of their grip and hits you in the head.

20. You often forgo putting anything on the top shelves of your cupboards for this very reason which results in a lot less usable storage space in your kitchen.

21. You can't reach the pedals in your car unless you sit so close to the steering wheel that you are in constant danger of being impaled by the steering column or a broken nose from a sudden airbag deployment should you suffer an accident. 

22. Guys think you are adorable or cute even when you were going for sexy. Or, again, when you are mad as blazes and ready to kill someone. AWWW, look at the cute, short girl being all mad. ADORABLE. This is guaranteed to make already angry short girls even madder.

23. People can always see the top of your head and therefore the exact amount of regrowth in your roots.

24. You can't reach the drivethru ATM while a sitting in a car without taking your seat belt off and more often than not, you actually have to open the car door to be able to hit the buttons. And you are often faced with the real risk of losing your money as you try to grab it out of the machine because you can't quite reach it.

25. Similarly, you are not able to reach the coin slot of a pay parking lot meter while seated in your car. And then you have to scramble to get back in and shut the door so you can rush through the gate, the entire time being terrified that the parking lot arm is going to come down on your car because you took too long. Even if this would never, ever happen because it's not on a timer, it's based on the weight of your car passing through.

26. You can never hang pictures or mirrors at the right height because your eye level is a good four to five inches lower than everyone else's. Or you try to over-compensate because you know full well that your eye level is that much lower and you hang everything too high.

27. Grocery stores also pose several very real short girl problems. The first is that you often have to step on the bottom shelf to get at the top shelf and you are in constant danger of getting in trouble from store clerks.

28. Even stepping on the bottom shelf often isn't enough to get at the coveted top shelf grocery item and as your finger tips just brush the object of your desire, all you manage to do is knock it over and/or push it further away.

29. That's when you scan around for empty boxes to use so you can try to scoop the item towards you. It usually hits you in the head as it comes rolling at you and your hands aren't free to catch it because one hand is desperately gripping the front of the top shelf and the other is still holding the empty carton scoop.

30. And then there is always the danger that you might break the bottom shelf as you gingerly step on it and while you try to keep one tip toe on firm ground, you never can because you need to be fully on that bottom shelf, on tip toes, to even attempt to peek over the top shelf to see the item you want. You are always waiting for that crack and smash while you, as quickly as possible, try to grab your purchase.

31. And of course, most of the time, the front of the shelf you are gripping for balance comes away and you fall off into the aisle. And you still don't have the ingredient you were trying to get down. Usually at this point you give up and walk away, hoping nobody noticed your fail while mentally casting about for ideas on what ingredient could be used as a substitute.

32. Sometimes the product you want is so important that you get bold enough to ask a stranger for help, but most often those groceries are just not worth it. Especially heavy ones. When a short girl sees a heavy item she wants is on the top shelf, she goes without. Too dangerous.


Monday, May 11, 2015

The Daily Chai Forgot What She Was Going to Say

Today's chai was a tall and came late in the day. Better latte then never, I suppose. Like I've said, you can't control everything, not even uppity drinks. Or girls who make bad puns.

I already posted today, but now I'm going to write for tomorrow to get back on schedule. I hope you enjoyed my history lesson, even if it was a personal history and nothing that ever hit the text books. Sometimes those are the best stories anyway.

I went out with an old friend from high school tonight who is going through a similar situation to mine right now. It was great to catch up, as always. I have to say, one positive part of ending a long-term relationship is you suddenly have time to see people you haven't seen in ages, people that were maybe not on the approved list. This is a freedom I do not think I will ever be willing to give up again, which may mean I'm single for a long time.

Anyway, it was so good to see him, we were figuring it's probably been close to twenty years since we last hung out. Again, I'm reminded at how crazy fast time flies when you reach your thirties. My twenties are now a blur, although that might have more to do with how much I drank back then. On the other hand, I feel like the last six months of my life have been the slowest I've ever experienced. Time has slowed to a crawl. Funny thing, that sultry mistress, that deceptive bitch, that thing we call time.

Writing about time passing makes me think of memories, both good and bad. I have a ridiculous memory and it is both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing when I was writing exams and could picture my study notes in my head and "read" what they said so I could then reproduce my answers on my exam sheet. It's been a blessing as I recall my children's lives thus far and can picture so many detailed events clearly in my head, like watching a film. It's a blessing when I think about my dad, six years after his death and I can still hear his laugh and exact timber of his voice when he said, "Hiya, Megs!" as I arrived at his place for a visit. However,  it's a curse when I can still picture how the ground rushed up to meet my face when I crashed off my bike last May. It's a curse when I want to forget conversations I've had in the past because they are irrelevant now, but I can remember them word for word. It doesn't help that a lot of my correspondence is over text message and I seem to have better recall for the written word than for the spoken.

The funny thing about memory though is that while I seem to have this amazing recall for certain things, I can't seem to remember to bring my fucking lunch to work.


Sunday, May 10, 2015

The Daily Chai Gives You a History Lesson

Today's chai was a frappuccino and it was better than the best sex I've ever had. 'Nuff said.

This is a year of firsts as my ex and I navigate holidays, birthdays and other special occasions. I suppose it will always be like this from now on, trying to figure out how we still do things for the kids, but as separate parents. I've said in the past that we both have reasons for ending our marriage, but despite not wanting to be married to each other anymore, we maintain a decent relationship with each other. I would say that we do only for the sake of the kids though and not because of any abiding affection for each other. Today was no different, even though it was his weekend, we worked out that they would come with me to a Mother's Day lunch with my mum and my dad's side of the family. I am glad that we can work those things out and not be vicious to each other about who gets the kids when. The girls had so much fun seeing their second cousin again and meeting their other second cousin for the first time. The four littles got along so well, it was lovely to see.

Grandma was a war bride from World War II. She is now 92. I can't even imagine all the stories she has to tell, although I've heard plenty of them. My grandpa was a pilot in the second world war and we used to joke that it was a good thing he wasn't a very good pilot because otherwise he wouldn't have crash landed in Ireland and met my grandma. The last time I saw her I asked her how she met my grandpa and she gladly told me, her voice full of affection and love for the man who had crashed into her life.

He was taken as a prisoner of war because Ireland was neutral and handing him over to either side would have been a conflict of interest to their neutrality. So in Ireland he stayed.  My grandma's family owned a restaurant and all the prisoners of war would go to there to eat (sounds like being a POW in Ireland was a bit of a holiday!) and she loved to listen to their voices talking because there were so many different nationalities and different accents and while fights did break out, they generally got along pretty well, all things considered (I suspect the German POWs were kept separately from the Allied POWs, but she never mentioned Germans).

One night, my grandpa walked in and he was so full of life and so funny, she couldn't take her eyes off him. While she told me this part, her eyes became unfocused, she paused and then shivered. I asked her if she was cold and she said, "No, I was just remembering."

My grandpa, she said, was kind and gentle and could charm the birds out of the trees. He was also big and commanding and it wasn't long before she fell in love with him. He felt the same way and they soon married.  It was 1943 and she was 20. She knew if she married him, she would leave her family forever because he was a Canadian and they planned to live in Canada after the war was over, but that didn't dissuade her in the least. She loved him and she was perfectly prepared to start a new life with him.

Eventually the war did end of course and my grandpa was released and sent back to the Allies. By then, my grandparents were expecting their first child and my grandma stayed behind in Ireland with her parents where she would give birth to a little girl, my eldest aunt. When my aunt was nine months old, my grandma and she set sail for England to meet up with my grandpa, who was awaiting orders to return to Canada and eventually to civilian life. My aunt did not like being on the ship and wouldn't sleep unless she slept with my grandma, so by the time they arrived in England, they were fast and firm bedfellows, much to my grandfather's dismay, or so my grandma told me, "He wasn't too impressed that he had to share his bed with both of us. After all, he hadn't seen his wife in over a year!" Oh Grandma. TMI.

I'm not sure of the rest of the story after that, if they went on together to Canada, but I think not. I believe, after a brief amount of time together,  that he went first and then she went separately with hundreds of other war brides in ships specially consigned to transport all these new brides to North America.

My grandparents had five more children after my aunt was born and lived happily in Canada together until my grandfather's death in 1980. My grandma was widowed at the age of 57 and never remarried.  I always thought that spoke volumes about her love for him and her subsequent deep grief when he died.

It has always been interesting to me that despite the horror of war and the devastating losses both sides suffered, there are thousands of stories like my grandmother's. Men and women who met during this conflict that otherwise would never have crossed paths, their destinies forever changed. My own grandparent's story resulted in six children, 11 grandchildren 10 great-grandchild, none of whom would exist if my grandfather had been a better pilot.

Saturday, May 09, 2015

The Daily Chai is Building a Wall

Today's latte, as per usual on a Saturday, has failed to appear at my bedside, that selfish bitch. I'm really going to have to have a chat with her.

I stay up pretty late most days, but last night I went to bed at 10:30 and consequently awoke, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 7:30 this morning. I have nothing to do and no where to go, which is somewhat refreshing, but also mind-numbingly uninspiring. I finished the last two hundred pages of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and I'm deciding whether I pick up a book from my mom's extensive library or if I go buy something brand new to liven things up.

I had a good friend over last night for a girlie night of drinks and smokes and we talked for four hours and probably could have talked another four hours if exhaustion and other responsibilities hadn't kicked in. Nothing like a good girl chat to vent about things that basically just sound like a scream inside your head because you can't make sense of anything anymore. Yesterday I was starting to feel like...several patches of fabric, held together by threads, but being stretched in different directions, the threads snapping one by one as parts of me floated off into space. I feel an empty hole in my gut, I can actually picture it, a gaping, black wound that has opened up after recent revelations and left me unwhole and unable to believe in anyone. I need a distraction from my distraction, something that will turn me away from the abyss in my heart and bring me back to reality.

So in response to this intense longing and heartache that has invaded my soul and made me into a crazy person, I have decided that I need a few more bricks in my wall. It isn't safe to trust people or love them because they disappoint you almost every time. I learned long ago that I can't control events or people, but I can control me. I can choose what I will put up with and what I will walk away from, even though walking away is almost as painful as staying. I am an open, caring, passionate person that sees the best in people and makes excuses for the douche-baggy parts, but that attitude has only caused me grief and it's time to face reality and truth.

Mindset is everything.


Friday, May 08, 2015

The Daily Chai is Totally Winning at This Parenting Thing

Today's chai was the perfect temperature to drink fast, however, I just realized I forgot to eat the leftover foam with my spoon and now I have regrets. So many, many regrets.

This morning with Kate was a challenge. She is a very slow person and I am a very fast person. I eat fast, I drive fast, I talk fast. It is absolute agony to watch her brush her hair or button up her coat. Or eat. Or basically anything. AGONY. I have lots of patience. Days go by where I patiently say, "Hurry Kate, my love, my darling, we have to get out the door." "Hurry Kate, love of my life, baby girl, we're already running late." I hate that I'm always hurrying them out the door, but it seems like no matter what time we get up, we are always leaving at the same time which is ten minutes later than I wanted to leave. Any smartasses out there that want to say, get up earlier Megan, you can just shut the fuck up, because I have tried that.

And after dozens of mornings where I am Mother Theresa, I lose my shit and start yelling. This morning, Kate ate breakfast with her dad while I got myself and Anna ready. She came upstairs and said she ate with Dad and I said that was great and could she please get dressed and ready while I fed Anna? I went downstairs, fed myself and Anna and made Kate's lunch. I was just packing it in her bag when she came downstairs in her PJ top and underwear to cut the tag off her new jean shorts. While I had fed Anna and finished Kate's lunch (15 minutes, at least), she had managed to GET HER PJ BOTTOMS OFF. I wanted to scream in frustration. Like, why do I have to stand over her telling her what to do? She's nine! I was driving boats by the time I was nine. I was riding my bike to the mall and negotiating the price with the petstore owner of my baby mice that I was breeding when I was nine. I was running petting zoos by the time I was nine. WHAT. THE. FUCK? And also, I was a weird kid.

There are days when I walk into her room and she is half-dressed and sitting on her bed, playing with the dog's ear and staring into space. I want to tear my hair out. There are other days when she is dressed but playing on her iPad and hasn't brushed her teeth or her hair. I want to shriek in anger. Plus, to add to my frustration, my rule is no iPad in the morning, she doesn't need to watch a video first thing in the morning and it drives me crazy. As a special treat, if she is all ready and I'm still getting Anna done or myself, she is allowed some iPad time. But only then, only when she is done everything. You can imagine how often that happens.

After she came down half-dressed, I told her to get her butt upstairs and get dressed this instant! Ten minutes later, I went upstairs to brush my teeth and have Anna brush hers. Kate was standing in her room with her shorts on and no top. That was probably when I started to lose my shit. I yelled at her to get her shirt on, ANY SHIRT. AND BRUSH YOUR TEETH. AND YOUR HAIR.

And then I stomped away like a child. And felt awful for yelling. I know parents yell, mine yelled at me and plenty of my friends tell me they yell all the time too. Being a parent is frustrating as fuck.  But it doesn't matter because I feel like for all the times I am a great mom and I'm patient and kind and fun and funny with them, it is negated when I have a bad morning like that. When I said good bye to Kate, I gave her a hug and said, "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm still frustrated and mad,  and we need to work on your focus, but I shouldn't have yelled." Felt marginally better, but she was still upset and as I drove to work, I felt like I had failed at parenting this morning.

This evening, a friend took Kate after school for a playdate and then I went there after work with Anna so I could have my playdate. We stayed until 8 o'clock and since we were up late the night before, it was "Right to bath and bed my ladies. Oh, Kate, I noticed you have a practice math test in your bag. Promise you'll work on that this weekend when I'm gone. I'll let your dad know" And suddenly, Kate is losing her mind in the back seat, total meltdown, "BUT I JUST GOT IT TODAY AND I HAVE TO DO IT TONIGHT!" WHAT. THE. FUCK? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I took a deep breath. I counted to five. I very carefully and very calmly said, "You should have told me you had homework. We would have left an hour earlier to do that."

"I forgot!" she wailed from the backseat.

I took a deep breath. I counted to five. I very carefully and very calmly said, "It is your responsibility to remember your homework and to do it before you play with your friends. I am very disappointed in you."

Kate continued to sob in the backseat, but eventually we got home, she had a bath and felt much better. She did her practice test and we went over it together and then she went to bed.



Thursday, May 07, 2015

The Daily Chai Has Lost Her Mojo

Today's chai wasn't hot enough, but that is why God invented microwaves. Oh wait, that was science.

I'm not feeling overly chatty today. I took the kids to McDonald's for McHappy day. Shit, as I wrote that sentence, I realized how often I've written that sentence. Seems I don't like to cook and I was doing so well this week too!

My car is leaking oil.

It's 10:00 pm and the kids are still awake because we had a showing of our house today at 8:00 and bedtime came late.

And then Anna head-butted me and gave me a fat lip. I've decided I should wear red lipstick more often. And maybe get Botox.

While we waited for these people to waste my time look at my house, I took the kids to the park and then for a walk around the block. I was walking with my arm around Kate's shoulders while she held the dog leash and I held Anna's hand with my free hand. We were walking jerkily along because we are both very graceful girls that way and we were singing "I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane" complete with exaggerated arm gestures and wounded expressions. Then I started laughing and telling Kate I felt like a homeless person because we had no where to go while these people looked at the house and we were just wandering aimlessly around singing. I'm pretty sure that old woman thought I was drunk and leaning on my daughter for support while I sang loudly in the street. It reminded me of a scene from A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Then I realized what a delightful human being I am and how all my friends must be just so embarrassed happy to have me in their lives. I'm THAT girl. Yay.

I was also very impressed by a boy that smiled at me and gave me a wolf-whistle while I walked with my two girls and my dog. I do so enjoy being treated like an object, especially when my girls are with me. Ah well, as my mother said, one day the wolf-whistles will stop and I won't know exactly when, but suddenly I will realize it never happens anymore and I will miss it. I agree that this is probably true although the feminist in me is howling in rage right now. Honestly, it was a little creepy, even if the kid was young and cute. Like, seriously? I have my kids with me. Don't be a dick. At least wait until I'm alone and offer to buy me a drink. Jesus.

I would like to defenestrate the next person who pisses me off. Thank you and your handy word of the day. Who knew there was a word for that, but it describes perfectly how I feel about sucky people at the moment. If only I was a bigger person, I might actually manage it.

And with that, I have some reading to do. Until next time, I remain your faithful and nutty blogger with a bloody lip.