I’ll tell you my secret – I am jealous

It’s true. 

I hate jealousy – it rears its ugly had so often and destroys people and relationships.  However, I can’t help but let the green-eyed jealousy monster take over whenever I hear about friends and their children visiting the mall Santa, or decorating the tree with their little ones. 

I have a few friends who are pregnant and they have their ultrasound photos posted on Facebook for everyone to see – and I love to see it, don’t get me wrong, I am so happy for my friends, they are 100% deserving of this special time, but I am jealous.         I want to stand in line and wait for Santa, I want to bake cookies with a little one making a mess and I really want to see the smiles on a child’s face when they realize Santa has come.  All this fun that my friends are having, I’m happy for them, but inside it hits me like a Mac truck me every time I hear or read about it. 

I’m a horrible person, I know.  Maybe not horrible, but foolish.  My time will come right?  When Koko is ready to be mine, he or she will here to love me and me them, and I will be the lucky one.  Sure, I know!  But I feel like my patience is wearing thin. 





I have now had a fourth friend tell me that they have dreamed I was having a baby.  Sometimes it’s a girl, sometimes a boy – and twice TWICE it was twins! 

Yes I have had my third insemination, but I am waiting till Monday the 23rd for the results so I don’t know if I am.  I don’t feel pregnant.  I feel paranoid – as per usual.  Every time I move a weird way or breath heavy or lean my stomach against my counter to brush my teeth or put on makeup I jump back realizing I could be squishing Koko if he/she is in there. Plus I feel like a butter knife is ripping apart my ovaries which I’m pretty sure means I am NOT pregnant. 

But am I pregnant?  I don’t know, and I won’t know for a week.  I want to be – obviously, so badly.  But I refuse to be upset if I’m not.  I can’t control my body; it’s in God’s hands now.  I am becoming more patient the longer this takes. 

If I’m not pregnant, I found out last week I need to have surgery again.  I have had three surgeries to remove a pilonidal cyst and my dermatologist confirmed its back.  If I’m not pregnant I must have it removed.  I will not however have the work done at Scarborough General Hospital again, not that they aren’t great, they are, but my anxiety surrounding the  hospital since my dad passed hasn’t dissipated so I will have the surgery done at Toronto East, which I hear is also a great hospital. 

If I am pregnant, I will need to do the surgery sometime after the baby is born, which is ridiculous because I can’t take care of a newborn, a dog all while lying on my side, taking pain meds (which I would have to wait till after I am done breastfeeding because T3’s aren’t to be taken while nursing).  All as a single mother.  

I do not regret my decision to become an SMC (single mom by choice) at all, I have thought it out, the pros and cons and I still believe in my choice.  I know I can do this.  This surgery (or possible surgery) may just be a setback, that’s all.  I will somehow take care of Koko and Simba and myself and we’ll get through it together.  

P.S. I hate the needle they give you to knock you out for surgery, it burns my wrist for three seconds and for three seconds I feel like Bella in Twilight where I’ve been bitten by a vampire and I’m making the “change” but I wake up, still me, still human, with no Edward…boooo





Today’s youth and education

For the past few years I have constantly thought about what it would be like to go back in time and re-do high school.  I mean, I loved my high school years.  Sure there were some bad times – my first boyfriend cheated on me with a very rude, sometimes hostile violent woman and she made a few months of my life miserable – especially when he dumped me for her.  However, I had some amazing times as well – great classes, teachers, friends and the drama club which was like a small family. 

I miss the ease of those days.  Where waking up and figuring out what to wear was my biggest worry.  I thought to myself how great it would be to go back and re-live those days, change some things and redo many of the other things I loved so much.  

Last night, I stepped back into time and went to my high school, creeping through the hallways, looking at my grad photo, swimming in memories that forced me to gasp.  The hallways look the same; the smell of the school is exactly the same.  Then I woke out of my haze and listened for the sounds of laughter and chatter…instead I heard “fuck you guy, you’re dead!”  Yo man she’s nasty, stay away from that biatch. 

Really?  Okay. 

Then I saw how rude and rough and cruel the kids were to each other and I determined no, maybe I don’t want to go to high school in this day and age.  I want to go back to high school circa 1995-2000.  As I looked around at the kids,(because regardless of what they think, that is what they are) I realized my child will be involved in this insanity, this cruel, heartless culture where teenagers are allowed to run free and say what they want when they want and no one stops them.  There was teachers in the foyer as kids were swearing and running and being an over bearing “presence” to the families that were there to see a Holiday concert/event.  I was disturbed. 

I was even more disturbed when during the Holiday event the film students feature a short film they created of a girlfriend who sees her boyfriend hugging another female and she stabs him in the eye with scissors and then walks away.  The students were cheering at this point – the parents (and myself cause I was there as an aunt) looked at each other like … uhhhh this is not okay.  

It’s disappointing and not saying much for tomorrows future stars if this behavior is not only tolerated, but praised.  I worry so much more now about my friends children and my future child(ren).  I am sure my parents had the same fear for my brother and me, but it just seems to get worse and worse every generation.  Do I need to move a private island – wrap my child in a bubble to keep them safe?  All I know is that there is not a chance in HELL that my child will go to this high school or any high school – where such blatant violence and disrespect is celebrated and enjoyed. 

I’m scared. 




Project Life: My life…your life…everyones life

At my work, a colleague – I would call her a friend – has really opened my eyes to creativity and change.  She is the one who has me on Pinterest and has me couponing and now she has introduced me to something else… 

Project Life 

One photo will be taken every day for a memory book, documenting a year in my life.  Now why would I need to do this?  I take photos all the time right?  Those who follow me on Facebook or Instagram know this!  In fact just a year and a half into having my Iphone I need to transfer my photos onto the computer because I can’t hold anymore and I have used up so much space I can’t download the new ios7 (or is 8 or 9 now? Who knows…)? The point is, I love taking photos!  I love capturing moments.  I’m praying 2014 will be a much better year than 2013 was (though in 2010 I said “how can it get worse” and in 2011 my grandma passed away – I got the picture, it can always get worse!) 

So whether it is good or bad, I am going to document the crap out of my life in 2014.  I am going to write notes and photograph my surroundings.  I will update you on here of course, of how it’s going and I will turn to you all who read this (and my friend as mentioned above) to give me advice of what to photograph, what to document (besides the obvious – dog, friends, family, good food) and look for feedback to make it a great scrapbook and an even better memory book for the year I’m hoping and praying my whole life changes. 

Here are some examples from Pinterest if you have no idea what I am talking about:

Project Life - I life this format. Nice, clean lines.

Project Life Debut {Freebie Alert} | Inspired By Peanut & Bean

Project Life Planner by brandyseitz on Etsy

Project Life 6x12 insert

So those are some examples, mine will look similar with my own flair…I am excited.  At the very least, I have something I know I can look forward to in 2014, while nothing else seems to be very certain?!





Third times a charm?

Or maybe three strikes I’m out? Good things come in three?

There is a lot to be said about the number three and today, December 10th 2013 I’m hoping 3 is my lucky number because this is my third IUI. The third insemenation. I’m not feeling confidant and that bugs me cause I know how my body is feeling is going to affect the egg, the fertilization and everything else that’s going on.

All I can do is wait. Wait and pray. Please pray with and for me.

Thank you



It happens, when you live alone, isolation can set in.  It is very easy to not notice it, to ignore it and justify it with weather and things to do.  Psychology defines isolation as the failure of an individual to maintain contact with others or genuine communication where interaction with others persists

How is isolation possible when you work with 100+ people?  When you are constantly at doggy day care, fertility clinics and therapy…clearly I am surrounded by others on a regular basis.  

But what happens when I am home?  When I come in after work, when I have a Saturday or Sunday with no responsibilities to pursue?  What then?  Do I go out?  Do I make plans, eager to run out and see a friend or a friend’s child?  

I used to.  Before.  Before my world ended, the world I knew at least.  My father used to complain all the time that I was never home – always rushing, coming in one door saying hello, running downstairs to change my clothes and slipping out the back door screaming good-bye as the screen shut behind me.  

I am social by nature – not like my father or my brother at all.  I crave the attention of others (I mean really who blogs that wants to be hidden away).  But lately, since that day, I haven’t been.  I tried at first.  I went out, even when I didn’t want to.  I made plans.  But the last couple of months, even the last few weeks, I have been tired of being around lots of people.  I can handle one or two at a time.  The weekend with my sister was great.  The evening I spent this week with a friend I rarely get to see was good, but I was also so relieved and happy when I was snuggled up in bed, with Simba by my side watching tv and sleeping.  

This happened once before, and it was part of the reason I lost my relationship with my ex.  When Alvin and I lived together, he would try to engage with me, but I would shish him while my tv shows were on, going to bed early, napping during the day and I swore when he broke up with me (for numerous reasons) that I would NEVER become that girl again.  But for some reason I had become depressed , when at that time I had no reason to be.  I had everything I wanted.  Or thought I wanted. 

Now I am just trying to make it through a day.  Now I just want to be left alone.  Now I am sensitive to noise, whether its colleagues or clients being loud or I’m turning the tv volume down, noise bothers me.  When my family comes over I am extremely happy, but half way through the visit I feel bothered by the noise…and they are teenagers so they are by nature noisy.  

My therapist I am seeing is aware of all this, and has concerns.  She wants me to explore these feelings I have, when normally I would go out, I stay in.  When the noise starts to bother me.  When I find myself wasting away a day.  Explore the voices in my head, explore the feelings in my heart.  

As if there isn’t enough craziness in there.  





It Happened

I knew it would.  I have been dreading the holiday season because I. KNEW. IT. WOULD. HAPPEN.  


I got a Christmas card for my dad. 

There it was staring up at me, a red envelope with black lettering, snowflakes dancing across the front.  A gentleman’s name I was unfamiliar with on the return address stamp.  Inside was a personal message to my father.  My heart immediately sunk.  I had been having a good day, a good week even.  But like a rock, I sunk to a pool of emptiness.  I had to find out who this person was, who didn’t my family consult on when we had the funeral back in July?  

I called my brother and he didn’t know.  I did what all young people do, I went on Google.  I searched the address.  It was an RBC building, I ran to grab my dad’s paper work, and it is from his financial advisor.  We haven’t closed my dad’s stocks yet, haven’t informed his FA that my dad passed because we didn’t have the certificate allowing us to cash out the stocks.  Ironically, I had also gotten that paper work completed yesterday.  

Thankfully, I don’t feel bad about not informing this man of his passing because they weren’t friends, I doubt he would have attended the funeral; he (I assume) was a voice over the phone advising him of when and what to invest in.  My father never mentioned him by name and I never had to drive him to appointments so I am guessing their relationship was not a close one.  My guilt was relieved, my heart started to beat normally again.  

I will be contacting this gentleman soon to cash the stocks so I will advise him of my father’s passing and express my thanks for the Christmas card.  I just pray I don’t receive anymore.  I believe everyone knows…I hope.