Yadda, Yadda, Yadda…

Wow, I feel like I have so many things to talk to you about today. I know they say nobody likes a Chatty Cathy, but I’m pretty sure that’s the general point of blogging…right? I got a new phone, I’m trying (mostly unsuccessfully) not to eat meat or dairy (pie doesn’t count right?), the weather is…I can’t even talk about the weather, what is this, a first date? Anyone in North America knows the weather is drunk and needs to call it a night ASAFP. Possibly other parts of the world too, I dunno…I don’t sit around watching the Weather Network so I’m hideously uninformed about what’s happening in other parts of the globe, weather-wise.

So I broke down and started a Facebook account, a page, and a Tumblr account. I’m on a roll. I’m fighting with Facebook already because they won’t let me name my page after this blog…apparently the title isn’t an accurate reflection of the page contents. Um, what? Ok, so maybe I don’t strictly confess stuff in the most true sense of the word, but I think I admit to a fair amount of nonsense online, and I think I should be the judge of whether or not I’m a basket case, and I most definitely am middle-aged. So what’s the issue here? Maybe I should just spam my own page with actual confessions about all the weird buffoonery I get up to, maybe that would make Facebook happy and boost my follower base; I’m not handing over my “payment info” anytime soon, so I gotta figure something out. I feel like I need to tread a bit carefully though, since Facebook pretty much owns the universe; Marky-Mark and his Techie Bunch can probably figure out a way to collapse my house of cards just for saying the word Facebook without proper authorization. And for calling him Marky-Mark. GULP! Stay tuned peeps, I feel like shit’s about to go down. And by that I mean that I’ll probably just post a few random confessions and then passive-aggressively accept my fate when The Book says I still can’t have my page name…

🎶…makes me that much stronger…🎶 ok, maybe jumping the gun a bit there. I like to pretend that my life has a soundtrack; I don’t think I’m alone in that either so don’t give me that look.

Hey! I have a crazy idea – maybe y’all can join me! It feels good to get stuff of your chest…and people must like doing it because, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I don’t think that the hashtag #basketcaseconfessions was a thing until I “hashtagged” it and now it seems to be getting some use so…wow, I feel like a pretentious ass saying I created a hashtag…is there a non-asshat way to say that? Sadly, I don’t think there is. I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t pretty sure about it though…just know that I know that I sound like an ass. Anyway, maybe if you guys mosey on over to my page(s) and “confess” some of your own shenanigans, you could help me fight the good fight…what do you mean, I’m unabashedly plugging my own social media accounts? For shame!

Ok fine, maybe I am. Sorrynotsorry. So what else is new and exciting? Ummmm, well I got a new iPhone…I’m actually not overly thrilled about that to be honest. I was so excited because I thought that I was going to run out my contract for once and not have to pay an upgrade fee because I’m impatient and can’t go two whole years with the same technology, and then I dropped my phone with less than 5 months to go. Now a cracked screen I could deal with for a few months, but whatever happened to the phone when I dropped it messed up the inner workings too. It wouldn’t connect to my home wifi, and it would pretend to be connected to the cell network but wouldn’t actually load anything. Considering the number of social media accounts I now have to keep up with, that just wasn’t gonna work for me. So I had to early upgrade again, and there were no current promotions to get a zero-dollar iPhone 8 or X, so I had to settle for the 7 Plus (which is still technically an upgrade from the 7, but not the significant upgrade I was looking forward to). Wah, wah, wah right?? Po’ baby had to get a new phoney-woney and it wasn’t the one she wanted, boo-freakin-hoo.

Anyway, for those of you who may be wondering, the Plus line is HUGE! For reals. The phone’s like Sputnik; It’s a virtual planetoid – has its own weather system! Okay, okay, I’m done, I’m done. Ah, I kill myself…don’t let my shrink hear that, I’ll be back in the bin faster than I can say “Orange on a toothpick”. Now that was offside wasn’t it? I’ll be crying myself to sleep tonight on my huge pillow…seriously though, it’s ginormous. I have small hands, so that doesn’t help matters – no, I don’t smell like cabbage – okay! I said I’m done! I’m actually LOLing right now, if you guys find me even half as funny as I find myself then I think it’s safe to say I’ve found my calling.

So the phone is very big, it’s taking some getting used to. I like that it has a better camera, and the speakers are definitely louder. I’m struggling to figure out what to do with it when I’m out…I stopped carrying a giant sack of a purse some time ago, I’ve been surviving with a small clutch and my pockets but my pockets can’t hold this beast. How many dudes say shit like that; I actually mean it though and I’m a chick. Bazinga.

So I guess that brings us to my no-dairy, no-meat, no-fun lifestyle change and my raging success with that. That was sarcasm, in case you missed it. Heavy sarcasm. I did pretty well until the weekend…it’s dance competition season, so weekends can be pretty hectic. I found out the hard way that trying to be vegan on the go is no easy feat – kudos to all the real vegans out there who can actually make it work. I’m going to stick to using descriptors like “plant-based” and “mostly”; I feel like I’ll be much more authentic that way. It didn’t take long for me to tire of asking about vegan menu options and non-dairy dairy replacements – it only took me until my morning tea actually, because tea with almond milk is gross* – and we all know that I’m about as energetic as a sloth, so preparing ALL my meals beforehand and dragging them around with me just isn’t going to cut it. And so we’re back to “mostly”. I can’t tell you if I feel better or not because all the meat and dairy slugging through my system from the weekend is definitely clouding my judgement, coupled with the crushing guilt from my horrific failure to last even one whole week, and adding frustration from the colossal effort it takes to plan even one meal that’s not just a fancy salad. Throw all that together and I can’t say with any amount of honesty that I have even the foggiest of ideas what it’s like to actually be vegan. Other than endlessly disappointing. I am trying though, for serious.

🎶…give me tiiiiiiime….🎶Nah, I’ve already realized my crime. Snubbing meat and dairy. That’s my crime. Don’t worry, my digestive system is already punishing me. So I think that’s it for today, I wasn’t planning on such a massive information dump but maybe my brain is taking it’s cues from my intestines…

🎶…it’s my potty and I’ll-


Fine I won’t. Ok I’m gonna go now, while I still have a semblance of a following – shout out to my Mom and Hubby – plus it’s getting late and I have to figure out how to make spaghetti without pasta or meat. So basically like a hot salad in the form of a sauce. Ge’ in mah bellay, Ah can’ stop eatin’. Ah eat because Ah’m unhappy an’ Ah’m unhappy because Ah eat. It’s a vicious cycle….FACK, sorry. Seriously, I’m done now. Muahaha.

Eat well peeps,


*If you have to use a milk replacement for hot beverages, I recommend oat milk. It’s the closest one to actual milk, in my humble opinion. Besides, nut milk sucks – it’s milk made from nuts, whaddyou expect??

Finding the Magic

I woke up this morning to a fine dusting of snow over the ground. No chocolate eggs anywhere to be found. No baskets filled with that fake grass stuff that seems to multiply as you try in vain to throw it all out. No Kinder Surprise waiting to hatch “toys” that are really just tiny weapons of foot destruction, like legos but seasonal. Just snow. “April Fools!” shouts Mother Nature. Biatch. Does this mean Jesus stuck his head out of the cave and decided there would be six more weeks of winter? That doesn’t sound right…maybe I should brush up on my theology. The snow on the ground is clouding my brain.

I think what the whole lack of Easter egg hunting really means, besides the fact that I can no longer count on surprise chocolate rewards for dusting, is that my kids aren’t little kids anymore. They’re teenagers. We got them chocolate bunnies and pre-paid Mastercards for Easter; it’s the beginning of the end. Maybe Jesus (the groundhog??) had the right idea – disappearing into a cave until the teenage shitstorm is over sounds like a pretty good plan actually; but no, I can’t do that. Raising a semi-functioning human being for at least 18 years is what we sign up for when we shove those little love terrorists out of our howling honey pots. Hunkering down in a cozy little cavern with some snacks and a taser isn’t part of the deal.

I always thought I would be so relieved when the whole Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy/etc. ordeal was over. And I am, a little bit – it’s way less work – but I didn’t count on wishing the magic was still real to my kids. Losing that piece of childhood wonder seems to be hurting me more than them and I wasn’t expecting that. We spend so much of their childhood teaching them how to grow up…but once they actually start doing it, the instinct to reel them back in becomes almost desperate. We all know that growing up is a trap, and I think it’s natural to panic a little when we realize that our kids are heading straight for it and we handed them the damn map. Here ya go kiddies – follow that magic right into the lions jaws #bestaprilfoolsjokeever!

Perhaps slightly dramatic, ok, but kinda true. We hold their hands and kiss their boo-boos, and convince them that magic is real, and then we kinda just pull the ripcord, throw the first aid kit at them, and beg them for the love of fucknuggets to pay absolutely NO attention to the man behind the curtain, because that man is us and most of what we told you is a lie. Congratulations, you just graduated childhood; welcome to the jungle. Sound about right?

A little heavy, perhaps, for a holiday; but you know I’m all about being honest with you. I guess it has to be this way; I mean, it’s not like you can tell a toddler to get a job, or explain to a baby what it’s like to live in a world with no Easter Bunny. We want them to stay kids as long as possible, while at the same time pushing them to become self-sufficient about as gently as you pushed that time that Labour Day took on an entirely new meaning and you finally understood what the Grand Canyon feels like on a personal level.

Parenting is a tough job; there’s no foolproof way to do it. There’s no returns or exchanges. Most of the time it’s thankless, sleepless, and horrendously unsanitary. The rewards are seemingly small; watching them (finally) sleep and wondering how you ever made something so perfect, that little smile when they say “I love you”, the unexpected hugs, and a million other little things that are a million times better than the words “thank you” (you won’t hear that magical phrase until they have kids of their own, but they’ll probably mean it so there’s that). Those little things are the real magic. The cataclysmal tantrums, the whining, the peeing, the barfing, the spilling, the snotballs…those are just nature’s way of reminding us that the nest does need to be emptied at some point. Preferably before 30, but nowadays that may be just wishful thinking. FML.

So keep the magic alive as long as possible; we all know that the road to adulthood is usually not easy, and a little bit of soothsaying along the way to cushion the journey never hurt anybody. Especially since it’s a one-way ticket to more types of fuckery than most of us ever dreamed was possible, and we don’t get any fancy ruby slippers to send us back. Teach your kids to live in the real world, but at the same time leave some room for wonder. Pretty rich, especially coming from the girl who literally counted the years until she could kiss Santa and his fat red ass goodbye, but now that he’s gone I wish I had taken more time to enjoy the idea of him and his magical sidekicks because they were my last chance to make magic that my kids believed in. Someone once said that it’s still magic, even if you know how it’s done. I think if we could teach our kids one life lesson, that one might be a good place to start.

At the end of the day, the pretend childhood magic is just that. Pretend. The real magic is being here, being part of the human chain, and possibly creating the greatest magic of all – our whiny, snot-nosed little rugrats who grow up way too fast no matter what we do. Enjoy the magic, embrace it, love it, and never give up on it. The proof that it exists is right there in your living room, eating all the Cheetos and hogging the WiFi.

Stay Magical Peeps!