All About ME

The other day I came into a social setting with myself and a couple other people who don’t know me very well, but know a little bit about my, uh, ‘situation’ (thanks, honey!), who sat across from me and said something along the lines of

“tell us about YOU.”


What do you want to know??

I HATE that. Don’t you hate that? I don’t hate that they ‘asked’ (it’s not really a question, is it? More like an order; tell me NOW; tell me ALL YOUR SECRETS!!!) I just….hate the query.  I guess it’s just, so…. VAGUE.

Honestly, what would you like to know?

I’m loud. I’m overbearing and obnoxious. It doesn’t take too long for people to discern that, usually, though it takes some of them quite some time to figure out that the horribly blunt/crass/should-be-filtered-but-aren’t things that come spewing forth from my mouth aren’t usually meant to be negative. Honestly, there are probably a whole SLEW of people out there who just think I’m TERRIBLE because I regularly call my husband an idiot. Which HE knows means I love him. But yeah, I can take up a lot of space in a room, and not always physically. 😉

And sometimes people ask you to tell them about yourselves because they’re looking for your deep dark secrets, and others it’s because they want to know about your adoration for sunsets on sandy beaches with loooooooong walks hand-in-hand with your sweetheart. Or that, you know, you’re engaging in such (horrifically boring and cliche) activity in SEARCH of your sweetheart… (back off, girls – this one’s mine!!)

Sigh. And I never know WHICH set of ME information a person is looking for.

Do you want to know about my depression and how horrible and debilitating a disease it can be and my thoughts about the (incredible moronic) people who claim that it’s solely caused by choice and a lack of faith in [Christ] (here’s looking at you, Matt Walsh, you ignoramus)?


Do you want to know about my passion for Muay Thai kickboxing and how wickedly I can snap around a rear-roundhouse kick, or how I have trouble keeping my fists up before throwing a lead hook? And my dream to one day have Kru (basically black belt) in front of my name?

Do you want to know about my passion for reading and endless devotion to fantastical children’s fantasy such as none other than my BFF J.K. creates? Or our family’s one agreed upon ‘religion,’ Batman? Or our little band of Whovians and our trip to FanExpo in Toronto to meet Matt Smith and Arthur Darvill? (Best. Day. EVER.)

10615323_10154585632800523_8321023533099716766_nMaybe you want to know that when I was a kid I danced. And I was good. And I LOVED it. But I was stupid and I quit when I graduated elementary school to go into high school because I was convinced that high school was going to be hard and I wouldn’t have time to dance anymore.  So now…I can keep rhythm, but I dance like any overweight mother-of-two, with the white-man overbite and the ever-so-classic grocery cart move.

Do you want to know how much I hate sleeping with my feet covered? I love onesie pyjamas but they can’t be footies. Or I bet you’d be fascinated to know that I’m REALLY good at my job, which is basically touching naked people all day and making them feel good. O_o (I’m a massage therapist, you FILTHY people. My GOSH.)

Hey! I know! I have a bum left shoulder, but no one can figure out why. Maybe my depression leaped from my brain into my shoulder just to screw with me.

I know! I have a hard time with new, and a SERIOUSLY hard time with follow-through. I have  been in about a thousand different MLM companies. I’m too lazy to make anything work, though. (Pretty hopeful about this latest one, though – it’s a HOOT!) But in the meantime I’ll work my ‘real’ job and make money that way. Because I am an evil working mother who doesn’t love her kids enough to stay home with them.


I love sports. I love playing sports. Watching them makes me antsy because I hate sitting on my butt watching other people have fun. Yes, I find physical exertion to exhaustion fun. My dad thinks I’m psychotic. (My psychiatrist, too! hahaha If you’re crazy and you know it shake your meds!)

What do you tell people when they ask about you? Seriously, I want to know! I NEVER know what to say, or where to start, or what people REALLY want to know about me.  When you say to someone “tell me about yourself,” WHAT are you expecting to hear??


Am I Angry?

I was recently asked if I’m angry about my mister’s apostasy.

I don’t think it’s any surprise to you, dear readers, that I sure as heck WAS. VERY angry. My gosh. I was FURIOUS. How DARE he!?!? My perfect, picket-fence, Mormon dreams were completely DASHED because he had the audacity to RUIN MY LIFE!!!

(Remember this? Sigh. I do. All too well!)

But I’m not, now.  Really.

I tease and call him my moron, or that idiot or other degrading nasty names, but I’m a jerk in real life to everyone soooo…. it would almost be WRONG for me to ALWAYS be nice! 😉 And I know full well that he thinks I’m a brainwashed automatron, so…we’re good!

I don’t mean to sound flippant or crass, but I’m really not angry anymore.

Yes, of course, I wish things were different. I think anyone with huge differences in marriage wishes they weren’t so.  Especially unplanned for ones? I don’t know if it’s worse when you didn’t know about the divergence until later on in the marriage, as opposed to knowing ahead of time and barrelling on anyway?

But things aren’t different. So, what use is it for me to sit here and be a grump and be pissy and angry and treat him like garbage? Fun fact, I actually LOVE this man. I love him. Sometimes I forget WHY I love him 😉 but he’s delightful, and SUCH A GOOD MAN.  And we’re married, and to me? To him? That means something. EVERYthing.

We just don’t have the same religious beliefs anymore.

So what?

So get over it.

Up until recently he’s been so good as to even accompany us to church every. single. week.  True story. My apostate has a better attendance record since his apostasy than most ‘active’ members do! And why? Why would he do that?! BECAUSE HE’S NOT A BAD MAN! And even disbelieving its doctrine or whatever his beef is 😉 the church building itself isn’t going to cause him any harm. So he comes to help me juggle our two angels while I’m off teaching primary (and brainwashing the next generation muuahahahaha!)

But our baby isn’t a baby anymore, and is in Nursery now.


I figure here are my options. I can MAKE him keep coming with us (not actually, physically make him, you know what I mean. “I am wife, hear me roar” kind of make) and have him resenting me, my faith, my traditions, and everything and anyone associated with those things, OR…

Dude, stay home. NAP. Enjoy some time to yourself while I take the kids. Make us lunch for when we get home, and then we’ll leave a lovely Sunday afternoon together (read: he gets the kids while I take a turn napping!)

His first Sunday staying home our 7-year-old says to me in the car on the way to church “It’s sure nice of Daddy to stay home from church to make us lunch!” hahaha I love that! I love her so much.  And she is just pleased as punch that her daddy is at home on Sundays looking after things while we go off to worship services.

So no, I’m really not angry. Not anymore. I have more important things to do with my energy than choose such a destructive attitude. Ain’t nobody got time for that! 🙂

And now I have to go fix my bed head before I head off to work because…. gross. Until next time!

Where have we been?!

Holy crap.

I can’t believe it’s been since that disastrous holiday season since we’ve posted anything. How awful of us!

LIFE, eh?!

If I’ve learned anything in the last couple of years since my mister’s “coming out” it’s that life NEVER goes the way I plan or expect it! Newsflash, eh?

We’re doing great. We’re still married, in case you’re wondering, and though we have a long way to go (it’s really hard to pick up the phone and call a therapist! hahaha We’ll GET there!!) we’re doing really really well.

Our kids are fabulous – they are the light of our lives. And the torture – my gosh. I don’t remember being this tired when either of them were newborns, but whatever. They smile and the world disappears and all is perfection if but for a moment. I LOVE being their momma.

I have some things to say, and we’ll get to that, eventually. For now I just wanted to check in and remind myself that you’re still here, that I’m still here, and get the ball rolling again. We’ve learned so much, and I find things stay with me better when I put them out there. I study better out loud, and I express better in writing; if you think I sound like a babbling moron ONLINE you should meet me in real life! hahaha OY VEY!

Thanks, everyone, for all your love and support. And even the hate – it’s helped put us both in our places and keep the doors of communication between us open. Haters gonna’ hate, right? What can you do?

That’s all for now, but stay tuned and we’ll be back…. SOON.

The best holiday ever.

Christmastime is usually a pretty insane time of year for everyone; starting with deadly stampedes in Black Friday mobs running through the entire month of December with ugly sweater parties, work events, extended family get-togethers, in-laws, outlaws ;-), Santa, bankruptcy, and OH yeah, that whole remember-the-reason-for-the-season stuff we Bible-thumpers plaster all over Facebook (is it really offensive for someone with a different religious view to you to wish you a Happy Hanukkah or, heagen-forbid, generic Holiday Season? Really?)

The kids come home from school, the presents are hidden all over the house, the tree is a baby-and-pet magnet, the weather is FRIGHTFUL….

Well, let me tell you what made our Christmas holiday season just, just that WEE bit extra AWESOME this year.

We live in Southern Ontario. In Canada.  Which I know some of you think means we live in igloos year-round, but if you actually look at a map, we’re further south than about half of the United States soooo…. yeah.  So we don’t have weather as easy and balmy as I hear you schmucks out in British Columbia get (I’ve never been there, though, so excuse my naiveté on that one…) but the last few winters have been pretty easy peasy on us. At least where we’ve lived.

So when it actually looked like we might have a white Christmas this year it was a bit odd, and nice, because if there’s ever a day in the year to enjoy snow, December 25th is it!

Then the ice started.

Have you ever experienced freezing rain?  It’s quite something. It coats EVERYTHING, in a way snow can’t, because it’s RAIN; it’s wet, it’s liquid…and it’s ice.  And it was COLD.  Whether you’re on team global-warming-is-real or global-warming-is-a-giant-consipracy-theory you cannot dispute that we’ve had a pretty frigid couple of weeks down here.

(NOT as cold as the rest of you crazy Canucks who actually live in the North, OBVIOUSLY; how do you LIVE there?!)

So the rain, and the ice.  And it’s frozen.  Totally frozen outside.  The trees, the roads, the yards, the cars….. if it’s outside, it’s literally coated in inches of solid ice.

And ice is heavy.

So the trees fall apart. And take down the power lines, and thousands and thousands of people in the Greater Toronto Area and around are without power.


Ours went out Saturday, the 21st, at 7:30pm.

It was dark.

It got cold.

Thankfully there’s a gas fireplace and a gas stove here, so we were able to keep relatively warm and still cook our food; much more than some – we know we’re blessed and SO grateful.  My SIL lost her car to a collapsing tree, my MIL couldn’t get out of her home for all the wires down and debris…it was something.

So, fine.  No power.

At Christmas.

No big deal.  A little uber inconvenient, and increasingly cold inside, but we’re good.

This is how you wrap presents at night without power. Yes, I am this cool.

Sunday, Monday, no power.  Huddling near the fire.  Laughing at the predicament, enjoying time with friends, wishing for visibility at nighttime…going to bed at 9:30 hahaha


Guess what?

The basement is flooded.


Apparently the sump-pump runs on, you guessed it, electricity! Which we haven’t had since Saturday night.  So 3 inches of water later we discover the problem.


My hubs and my uncle get to work and hook up a generator to the sump pump to pump the new indoor pool out of the house. I managed to ‘evacuate’ the kids and get them over to a friends’ house, with heat and power for the day.  The boys worked and worked in the basement.

We managed to get our hands on a generator due to the awesome generosity of friends and keep the sump pump running, hook up the fridge and freezer and salvage food.

But the house was just getting colder and colder.

Sleeping beside the fire to try to keep warm 🙂

Finally the decision was made to leave the house and find a hotel; it was too cold in the house for the kids to stay and sleep!  So the boys took my girls and got everyone packed up and headed off to a hotel while my mom and I stayed behind, tidied up, and prepared for the potential of the next day’s Christmas celebrations, praying all the while that the weather outside would be warm enough that we could come back to the house and celebrate – Christmas is pretty stinking exciting for a 6-year-old. I mean, really.

Mom & I finish stuffing stockings, placing gifts, blowing out candles, securing the generator, and shutting down the house for the night.  And we head out to the car.  Start the car, back out of the driveway.

Start to drive.

“Check tyre pressure” (yes, my parents drive a car that’s so fancy it spells “tire” with a ‘y’).


Mom: “can you call Dad.”

……yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s a flat tire. On Christmas eve. On our way from evacuating the powerless, heatless house.

Me: “HI, Dad! The car says ‘check tire pressure.'”

Dad: “Don’t worry about it.”

… we don’t worry about it. But neither of us are TOTAL idiots, Mom or I, so…. we’re pretty sure we’re driving on a flat tire.  Which is brilliant.

And, honestly, we’re killing ourselves laughing; what are the odds?

Arrive at hotel. Verify flat tyre. Yup, it’s flat!  And now ruined, too! Cool!

Fun, eh?! You can feel EVERY bump in the road when the ‘tyre’ is flat!

Merry Christmas to us, Merry Christmas to us! Merry CHRISTMAS to uuuusssss…. Merry Christmas to us!!

Inside we’re warm, we’re comfy. The girls are both still wide awake at 11pm. But we’re snuggling and laughing and we’re okay – we’re calling it a Christmas to remember, the Christmas from Hell, Christmas by Candles, and whatever else.

Which one of those tyres is a donut? hahaha

Christmas morning.  My hubs checks the house, and all signs look like power has been restored sometime in the night! 4 days without power, and our own Christmas miracle; it’s back on in time for Christmas day, opening presents, and roasting a beautifully stuffed turkey. (Mom makes the BEST. STUFFING. EVER. You might think yours does, but I guarantee you you’re wrong. You’ll get over it.)

So we’re packing up getting ready to go back to the house; Mom & Dad take the kids down to enjoy a nice Christmas continental breakfast while the hubs and I get showered and ready to go.

So I’m in the shower.  Which, I mean, honestly, is a naked activity; I don’t generally wear clothes in the shower.  No, scratch generally…I NEVER wear clothes in the shower.  I find it gets me a bit cleaner to let the water actually get to the skin, you know?

I step out of the shower. Where I admittedly had been for and overly lengthy time (it was so WARM and there was a LIGHT and it was soooo….hot…shower….aaaaahhhhhhh) and the bathroom was PRETTY steamed up.  Like, a LOT of steam.

And the fire alarm starts freaking out.

What?! Crap! How long was I in the shower? How much steam is there in here?!

Until the hubs opens the hotel room door and verifies that the alarms are going all down the hallway.

Wait, what?

There’s a fire?

There’s a fire??

There’s a fire. 


We can’t see the fire, so, quite frankly, I’m not running out in the FREEZING cold, dripping wet, and NUDE.  I grab some clothes and dress as quickly as I can, we grab our coats and the girls’ coats, and we race to the stairs, outside, and around to the front of the building to find our kids.

And no one is outside.


We go back inside the hotel with the peeling bells of Christmas morning and everyone’s just going about their merry business like nothing’s going on.

Apparently someone burnt the toast and walked away to let the place burn down? Maybe he/she just knew we needed a bit more fun in our dull lives? No idea.

The fire department came, the toast was extinguished, the offending toaster not reused, the hotel company laughing merrily at the Christmas from Hell having a fire-and-brimstone aspect….

And we went home. And had a MARVELLOUS Christmas. It was just perfect.  We cooked, we gifted, we played, we ate… it was probably better a day than if everything had gone perfectly smoothly leading up to it, honestly.

And we thought it was over. I mean, there was still all the fallout – a basement full of ruined stuff to go through, sort, throw away, a hefty tire-replacement bill (Dad said it was the best money he ever spent, just getting us to the hotel! hahaha), attempts to de-ice and de-snow the vehicles…. on the 31st the hubs and I spent over an hour and a half trying to get one of our cars out of the driveway so I could go to work before we finally gave up and called a tow to drag us forward the foot we needed to get some traction – I was 2.5 hours late for work.

Then New Year’s. Nothing much to report thank GOODNESS. I had a rough day being so late for work and it putting me behind schedule so was a little on edge with my family when I finally got home, but apologies and hugs on the 1st and we’re all golden.

So back to work on Friday.

At least that was the intention.

I was driving SO carefully.

Wednesday night it had snowed down near where I work (about an hour drive from where we live), and partway there on the highway it wasn’t totally cleared; the plows had been through, the road wasn’t snow-COVERED, but there was some snow.

And as always happens, I didn’t know my wipers weren’t in tip-top wiping condition after the ice storm until after I’m out on the road and can’t blooming SEE anything.  So I’m driving, and I get behind someone, and I try to clean off the windshield….and it doesn’t work very well.

So I VERY CAREFULLY try to merge over to the passing lane to get away from the nice, thoughtful person driving in front of me spitting crap up all over my car so I can’t see anything.

And I pass, and I move back to the middle, where it’s clearer.

Do be do… driving when it’s hard to see is a bit more adventurous than usual driving, but I manage to actually CLEAR the windshield. Hooray!

Until I end up behind someone else.  Who, gosh darn it, keeps spitting crap from his tires up into was WAS my view!!

So I check. And I signal. And I’m aware of the car to the right of me, and the car in front of me that I’m going to pass.  And I ever-so-slowly begin to merge left to pass the offending vehicle.

And my tires decided they’d had enough.

I fish-tailed.

Fishtailing on the highway going 110km/hr? HOLY CRAP.  I worked with the steering to try to get some sort of control, but it’s just…not going to happen, honestly.  I got it from left, to right, and then right went to completely perpendicular to traffic, which was pretty exciting. And I got the car back to straight…and kept sliding left.  Left, left, left….until I SMASHED into the cement median, TRIED to throw my skull through the driver-side window, and then the car BOUNCED off the median, spun to perpendicular-again, and sailed ACROSS THREE LANES OF TRAFFIC and landed in the ditch.

Somehow I didn’t hit anyone else.

Someone stopped, called 911. Ambulance came, firetruck came (and left – didn’t need them, thank GOODNESS), cop came….

I’m fine. I was in shock. My head hurts. I don’t have a concussion, but I hurt. I feel pretty punk and just out of it.  Shock has worn off.  I’m bloomin’ exhausted ALL THE TIME, but it’ll pass when I’m all recovered.

School starts back tomorrow.  Our kiddo is disappointed, but apart from not seeing her constantly I’m SO looking forward to it, because I honestly can’t take any more of this “vacation” time!

How was your holiday season?? 😉

Not an Option

A dear friend of mine sent me a message on Facebook the other day after reading about my mister’s day off and our united devision O:-)  He told me how fascinating he finds our, uh, ‘situation.’

He said I’m tough.


So, some days I feel pretty tough. I feel like this is SO STINKING HARD.

But most of those days have passed.  I’m kind of over it.  It’s just how we are, now; we’re different.

And what are my options?

I’m married to a man who has different religious views than mine.  He’s a WONDERFUL man and a fantastic father.

So…I’m supposed to leave him because he doesn’t wanna be Mormon anymore?

And I’m supposed to give my girls a confusing, broken home, just because we can’t agree on this one thing?

I don’t think so.

Giving up is NOT an option.  My family is waaaaaayyyyy too important for that.

Speaking of, the baby needs me!  Ciao for now. Thanks for the support; you’re an amazing readership!