Halloween This Or That Tag Questions

1. Chocolate candy or fruity?  FRUITY

2. Witches of Vampires? WITCHES

3. Trick or Treat? TREAT

4. Halloween Party or Scary Movie? SCARY MOVIE

5. Skeletons or Zombies? ZOMBIES

6. Trick-or-Treat or Hand Out Candy? TRICK OR TREAT

7. Hay Ride or Corn Maze? HAY RIDE

8. Scary Costume or Funny Costume? FUNNY COSTUME

9. Pumpkin Seeds or Pumpkin Pie? PUMPKIN SEEDS

10. Bottle Feed A Baby Zombie or Walk Alone Through A Dark Forest? WALK ALONE

11. Bats or Black Cats? BLACK CATS

12. Pumpkin Spice or hot Chocolate? HOT CHOCOLATE

13. Celebrate in your neighborhood or at the mall? NEIGHBORHOOD

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : Write a blog post answering the This Or That Halloween tag questions

Leap

“Look before you leap” was something my mom said a lot to me, I’m sure she meant it as a warning, that I should make sure that I was leaping into something safe.  I’ve always been a leaper, when I jump in, it’s all in or not at all, and I’ve always looked, but probably not in the way my mom intended.  I tend to decide I’m going to leap, then look, mostly out of curiosity, then leap, no matter what I saw.

One of my best childhood friends described her role in our friendship as being the person who follows me around grabbing me by the ankles when I leap to make the trip down at least a little bit slower.  She knew me well enough that no warning can prevent me from leaping when I have decided to.

I’ve always had a “why not” attitude.  Always believed in living without regrets, not wanting to be saddled with “what ifs”.  I can honestly say that the vast majority of my leaps worked out well, when they didn’t they served as lessons, but I don’t regret a single one.

The only leap that has eluded me was a physical one.  In my many bouts of depression, I have often had suicidal thoughts, fantasies even.  How would it feel to die by X? Psychologists tell me that this sort of morbid curiosity is pretty normal for people like me, but like any fantasy, it needs to remain just that.

I’ve always come back to the one of what it must feel like to jump.  Having the final moments be of exhilaration, freedom.  I’ve never been tempted to try however, mostly because if the fear of failing.  If I were to jump, but something went wrong, I could end up stuck living in a body that has become a prison.  It always seemed counter intuitive, in my search for freedom from this life, I could end up even more imprisoned by it.

I’ve thought about a bungee jump, or skydiving, but neither really feels like it would capture that moment of standing on the edge, alone, and letting go.  Then I saw this thing called Skyjump.  You jump off a building or tower wearing a harness and cable attached to your torso, and fall.  This weekend, I’m jumping off a 20 story tower over a river.  I will get to have my fantasy without the depression and death side effects.  In just a few days, I will finally know how it feels to literally leap.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : Write a blog post that ends with the word: leap.

My must haves

Lately things have been even more hectic than usual, between preparing to have the kids 5 weeks this summer, my sister’s hair salon burning down and the usual baby momma drama, I have spent the past few months just trying to keep our heads above water. I was also doing so well with my weight loss that I didn’t want to lose the momentum I had built up, so here are a few things that have made my life bearable.

#1 – Bandelettes
These are a godsend for anyone who suffers from chub rub when wearing skirts. A few years ago my body decided to break out into hives at any opportunity. Stressed=hives, sweaty=hives, any skin rubbing=hives. Because of this, I dramatically reduced my skirt and dress wearing since every time I wore a skirt my thighs would rub together and then break out into gigantic itchy angry hives.  Then one day I was killing some time on Pinterest (see #2) while waiting in line and I saw these. I looked them up online (www.bandelettes.com) and bought 3 pairs. They are comfortable, they work really well, and are much prettier than the giant spanx I had been wearing before to avoid the chub rub.

#2 – Pinterest
While I am a creative person, I am not an inspired person. I rarely have a new idea, but always have great modifying ideas. Pinterest has helped me a lot with saving money on our home by helping me find cheaper alternatives and DIY projects to achieve what we want. Whether it’s ideas for keeping the kids occupied, ways to use our space more efficiently, or how to make our own taco seasoning, Pinterest helps me make the most of what we have.  Also, it makes me look way more put together and on the ball than I actually am :)

#3 – Bicycle
My father in law just bought bikes for the kids for their birthdays, and I got myself one to be able to go with them. Then I figured out that because of the lovely bike paths in my city, it would only take me 3 minutes longer to bike to work than to drive. Since then I invested in a gel seat and a cup holder for my morning coffee/smoothie and I have biked to work every day that it’s been nice. It’s helped me get my 30 minutes of exercise without having to set aside time for it, with the added bonus of cutting my gas consumption.

#4 – Collapsible water bottles
These are especially great when we take the kids out somewhere. They are flat and you can even roll them up so they take up very little space in a purse/backpack, and they are easily fillable at any water fountain or tap. I got them in some fun prints and they are enough of a gadget that the kids love using them and so I avoid the argument about buying soft drinks or juice at a venue. Saves money, and encourages healthy habits.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : List some of your most recent must haves…tried and true purchases the rest of us should ownYou saw it on Pinterest…does it really work?

My 2014 Goals update

 My 2014 Goals

#1 – Finally get out of debt – I am down to 3000$ so just a few more months (If you recall I was at aver 9000$)

#2 – Get active/Lose weight – I want to shed my depression/stress weight and get back to feeling good in a tank top or bathing suit.  Only 23lbs to go.(18 lost)

#3 – Let it go - I have come to the realization that I have fought for my BF and step kids as much as I can in my position.  The rest has to be my BF, I need to let go of the steering wheel and focus on being a great co-pilot.  Also, I need to let go of drama that is not mine.

#4 – Rediscover me – For quite a while now, I’ve been feeling a little, I don’t know, lost maybe.  Everything has revolved around the BF, the step kids, the Ex, and I just feel like my identity has gotten a bit lost in the mix, at the very least needs me to rediscover who I am NOW.  I’ve even been at the point where I don’t recognize myself anymore.  Goal #3 should help with that, #2 also.  I’ve been reading A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, and it’s helped me see that I have been falling into a lot of roles lately, when I should be just being me.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop: Update your readers on your 2014 goals. How are things going? Are you staying on track or facing some challenges?

Vacation

I was talking with a friend the other day, a fellow stepmother, and we came to the idea that since mothers and fathers get parental leave, we stepparents should get an extra week’s vacation per year. I know I could use it.

In the past three years of stepmother hood, I have lost my job 3 times, and because of this, I have only gotten one week vacation per year instead of the usual two since I have always been starting over. Since we get the kids for one week in the summer, I’ve taken my week then. This means that between jobs, the kids, and the custody battle, I have gotten exactly zero true vacation days in the past three years.

This realization stemmed from the fact that I have been a little too eagerly looking forward to my BF going away this weekend. He’s the one going on a trip, but I am more excited than him. I will have about 50 hours all to myself, no kids, no BF, just me and the cats. I plan to make them count. I know most people are thinking “hey, that’s life with kids, there is no vacation” and I understand that point of view, but my reality is that I live alone for over 10 years before my BF moved in, and I loved it. I work as a receptionist, my job is to be social, so when I get home, I like the quiet, and I miss the quiet.

All of this made me think of an episode of Sex and the City, where they talk about their secret single behaviours, for some people it could be peanut butter on saltines while reading vogue, for me it’s reading a good book, or sleeping in. I just need to be accountable only to myself for a little while. I will probably clean or organize a closet or something, but the point is that I will do it because I want to, not because I have to, or someone needs me to. I guess you could say I need to be selfish for a couple of days to recharge.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my BF and step kids more than I thought possible, and I don’t begrudge the attention they need, but lately I have just been feeling so empty, more apathetic than I usually am, and I know it’s just that I need to take care of me.

So this weekend, I am going to sit in my living room, close my eyes, and listen to the quiet.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : Write a blog post inspired by the word: vacation

Stepmommy issues

This time last year I was writing a lot about mother daughter issues, mostly my issues as a daughter/daughter in law.

It seems ironic that this year the issue would be about my issues as a stepmother.  Anytime now we should be getting the judge’s decision about custody.  Anytime now I could be more than tripling my time as a parent.

I recently told my best friend that I was scared either way.  I’m scared about the challenge of day to day parenting, something I never expected to do, and I’m also scared about losing.  Either way, the coming months are bound to be crazy.  I’ll either be trying to find my groove with the kids, or trying to deal with everyone’s grief at not getting joint custody.

The bio mom has intensified her attacks, I feel like every time I think she has reached the point of ultimate viciousness, she ups her game and hits even lower.  My best friend keeps reminding me that things can’t really get much worse than they are now, we can’t see the kids any less, and my BF is already paying the maximum in child support. 

I feel like lately all I have been doing is trying to shield everyone around me, and then I go to bed at night and worry about how I will get through it all.  That is when I remember my Nanny telling me that when you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, just focus on your feet, and put one foot in front of the other.  Eventually, you’ll get there.

So I’m just focusing on the simple things, my new job, getting a Christmas tree for the kids, and trying to fit in all of the family parties.  This year I’m just gonna cross my fingers, let go, and hope for the best.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : What were you blogging about a year ago today? What has changed?

Thank you Pinterest for making me look smart

I have a Pinterest bord on parenting / stepmom humour. This past weekend, however, I actually used this one. 

 On Friday night, I got up around midnight and as I always do, I checked on the kids while I was up.

When I looked in the boys' room, I was furious to find them with the TV on playing video games. They had actually woken up, turned on the TV, and muted it so we wouldn't hear and were playing. When I busted them they jumped about two feet, and turned everything off and went to bed without saying a word. We thought we had it covered by bringing their remote and Nintendo DS with us to bed, and making sure they were asleep before going to bed ourselves. They had outsmarted us, for the moment.

The next day I talked it over with my BF. What to do? The TV in their room is 40'', so too big to take it out. They had apparently found the buttons behind the TV so keeping the remote was useless, and there were just too many things hooked up to make taking anything out of the room an option.

Then it hit me, I looked at my board and thought, hey, it's worth a shot. That day I stopped by a dollar store and picked up a luggage lock and that night when we put them to bed, we unplugged the TV and put the lock through the plug. At first I don't think they quite understood what we were doing, but when we left the room we listened at the door. We couldn't help chuckling to ourselves when it dawned on them, without the key, they couldn't plug the TV in, and no TV, no games.

The next morning, the oldest asked why we did that, we told him that it was to make sure they couldn't get up and play video games in the middle of the night. He conceded that it was a pretty smart idea. I didn't tell him I saw it anywhere, we figure it will be better off if he just thinks we're that much smarter than them.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : You saw it on Pinterest…does it really work?

I am thankful

This week I am thankful for the people around me. 

I am thankful for my godson who was cool with me doing his birthday thing with him a week early because we were going to be in court on his actual birthday.

For my cousin who went shopping with me to get my mind off everything for just a few hours.

For the friend who is also a stepmom and who knows exactly what I was going through who helped me feel normal and let me vent my feelings without me having to try and explain why I felt that way.

For all the people who kept our spirits up telling us that we were doing the right thing and that i twill all work out.

For the guy at the court who smiled at me every time he walked past me sitting alone on my bench, he knew that it was my BF in there and would tell me not to worry he was doing fine.

For the judge, who stayed until 6pm to make sure he heard all of the case and that nothing was rushed, I know he was fair.

For my coworkers and boss who were very understanding with my absences and my general stressed out sate of mind.

For my BF, who helped me stay strong by being strong himself.

I am thankful for everyone around me who knows that waiting for the verdict is much more hellish on us than on them and not pestering me every day to know if the verdict is in.  They actually believe me that when I have news, they will.

I am even thankful for his ex, for leaving me the hell alone and not speaking to me this week, thereby allowing me to mostly pretend she doesn’t exist.

This week I am thankful to be so blessed as to have all of these people in my life.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop Something you’re thankful for this week.

I was wrong

I thought it would be different than everyone said, but it was worse.

I thought I could fix things, but I couldn’t.

I thought she would see the good I was doing and come around, but she didn’t.

I thought I could protect the kids, but I can’t.

I thought she couldn’t hurt me, but she found a way.

I didn’t think I would have to fight this hard, apparently I do.

Most importantly, I thought I wasn’t ready for all of this, but I know now that I am.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : Something you were wrong about

Before I grew up

When I was little, I wanted to be a nun.  Go ahead, laugh, take your time.

I had some very catholic grandmothers, and I went to catholic school, mostly because it was the only way to go to French school.  Though my mom was not religious at all, she fully supported that I loved going to church.  I loved learning about the saints and reading the bible stories.  I used to beg to go to Sunday school, and my mom would always find someone to take me.

I also had a lot of faith in God, though I do suppose that since I really only had one notion of God, it was by default a catholic one.  I remember how peaceful it was to sit in mass, how much the repetition and ritual of it all was soothing compared to the chaos at home.  I said my prayers every night like a good little girl, and when I learned that in addition to the peacefulness of it all I would probably get to spend my life learning, well then it was settled.

Then when I was 12, that all changed.  When I was in 7th grade, we did our confirmation at school.  I started my first real crisis of faith.  If God loved me so much, why didn’t he help me with all that was going on at home?   I said my prayers, ad did my charity, helped others, and yet my suffering worsened.  About a week before my confirmation I told the priest that I didn’t feel comfortable going up in front of everyone and making a promise that I didn’t feel in my heart.  I loved God and believed in him, but I just wasn’t ready. His reply was that since it was a part of the school curriculum, I would receive a fail grade if I didn’t do it.

I couldn’t believe my ears.  He was telling me that it was preferable that I lie, that I just go through the motions, than wait a year or so and really mean it.  I was devastated.  My faith was shattered.  I stopped going to church except when it was mandatory.  My mom was supportive, she told me I would either find my way back to the church, or I would find God somewhere else.

That year I changed schools, and the new school did their confirmation in 8th grade.  I told my teacher that I had already done all of this, and asked if I could have extra work in English since it was the subject I needed improvement in.  I got the same reply as the priest the year before.  I would not have to perform the actual ceremony, but I still had to do the rest or else my grades would suffer.

That was the last nail in the coffin; I lost faith in the church.  I still believed in a higher power, but not a church that placed more importance on appearance than belief.  People who know me find the idea that I wanted to be a nun quite hilarious, especially seeing the person I’ve become.  I am far from the traditional idea of a nun, I’m known for being a rebel and non-conformist who questions authority.


And when I look at the church now, and what it’s become, I kinda feel sorry for them, they could have used some nuns like me, nuns who would modernise.  I look at the group of nuns in the US who protest for readily available contraception and I can’t help smiling to myself, that was probably the kind of nun I would have turned out to be.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : Something you wanted to be when you grew up

Brave

When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up and be brave.  At the time this meant that I would be an archeologist or an anthropologist, travelling the world to obscure and secluded places a la Indiana Jones.  I remember reading somewhere that courage was being scared but doing the right thing anyways, and I believed in that.

Then the teenaged years hit, and I no longer wanted to be brave, I wanted to forget, to not feel.  By my late teens, there was no more need to be brave; I was so self destructive that no one around me thought I would make it past 27.  Since the future and the unknown/uncontrollable is usually what scares me the most, not expecting to have a future made being brave easy.

Then in my early 20s I wizened up, moved here and started over.  After my first year here, the thing that scared me the most was normalcy.  I didn’t want to get sucked into what I saw as a mind numbingly boring life with a husband and 2.4 kids and a house in my teeny tiny hometown.  My family tried for years to stuff me into that mold, and I fought just as hard to do the exact opposite.  By this point I had realized and come to terms with the fact that I was pretty messed up and I decided not to impose my craziness on anyone else.  I would brave my life alone, independent, no man, no kids.

After a few years, a couple of relationships, a total breakdown,  a bunch of therapy and the was even more secure in my idea that I should be alone, and that it would be fine.  My definition of bravery had gone from grand adventure to facing a future alone, and I was ok with that idea.

Then I met my BF, and as I got more and more involved with him I encountered a fear more intense than any I have ever encountered before.  I realised that this relationship was different, whereas before I had loved someone and taken the risk of losing that person, this time I was quadrupling my risk, this time around I risked losing a family.  There was a turning point where I had to make a decision.  The more involved I got, the more I would have to lose and the less control I had over the future, and the more terrified I was.  Then I remembered that bravery was being scared and doing it anyways, and I dove in.  Almost immediately, another realization hit, I was headed head first into that mind numbing boring life I didn’t want.  That second fear I rationalized away, I told myself that I was only a weekend stepmom, and that I wouldn’t have the day to day boring parenting stuff to do.

I spent the next year and a half or so patting myself on the back, I had conquered my fear, and had triumphed, all would be well…or so I thought.

A few months back we got hit with a whole lotta crap, and we hit another crossroads.  It was starting to look more and more like the best thing for the kids, and us, was to ask for shared custody.  Then one day, SS1 came right out and asked for it.  My BF, being the wonderful guy he is put no pressure on me other than to say that he was seriously thinking about it, but that he would not, and could not, do it without me being 100% on board.

Just as I was finally hitting my stride with this whole step-parent thing, BAM! Right in the kisser.  The fear was even more intense than the last time; there were so many more questions, and doubts.  We discussed it over and over, the pros, the cons, the uncertainties.  I wasn’t sure if I was ready, or if I would be any good at the day to day stuff.  I knew the Ex would have a fit and would take out all of her rage on me.  Was I willing to give up the faint, yet still present possibility of a adventure filled life to devote myself to his kids for the next 14 or so years.  Anyone who knows me will tell you right off the bat that I am not a long term commitment person.  The longest I’ve had a job is 2.5 years, same for relationships.   Lucky for me, I have a lot of supportive people around me who whole heartedly believe that I will make a good parent, even if I’m not sure.

The truth is, I still don’t have any answers to any of those questions, and I am still terrified, which is why I’ve been hiding from the interwebs for the past while.  The only thing I do know, is that I have decided that I am willing to dive in even further, and that this family we have created is worth the fear.  We started proceedings for shared custody this summer, and have our court date for November.  This time the fear is not going away, or even lessening, but I am doing it anyways, and hoping it’s the right thing.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : Write a post inspired by the word: brave

Lament of a Bra

The humble bra...such a small thing to take up such a big place in my life. 

From ages 10 to 13 they made me cry. I was a flat chested at the time and as girl after girl around me started to blossom I would look down and see nothing happen.  The boys even had a rhyme, not a very good one I admit, but it still hurt.  "Roses are red my watch is gold, you’ll never wear a bra cus you’ll have nothing to hold".  20 years later I can still hear them taunting me.  My mom tried to reassure me that all I had to do was look around me and the women in my family, surely I could see this would not be an issue for me.  I wanted to believe her but another thing I knew was that my family were notoriously early bloomers, not near as late as me.  I remember even wearing a bikini top under my shirt so that I would have something like the other girls when we all changed for gym. 

The summer was 13 I went to see my family in Quebec and my cousin went through her clothes like she did every year to give me what no longer fit.  I told her about my fears and she reassured me that it would all work out.  She then gave me a baby blue bra with a little pink bow in the middle she told me that she didn't need it anymore and that she was sure I would need it soon.  I remember thinking it was the prettiest thing I had ever seen.  It was not long that it was not long after that maybe too much that I actually started to use it. 

Then at 14 BAM! Everything happened at once.   It even happened so quickly that there were rumors that I had a boob job during the summer.  By age 16 I was a very full DD.  That was when I started having trouble buying bras.  The ones available either offered very little support or were too small.  Even finding a 34DD was hard, the stores usually started at 36 so I had an aunt who would take in the back for me.  Less than ideal, but the best option I had at the time.

Then about 6 years ago I gained weight, and the DD's didn't fit anymore.  The regular stores had 34 36 but stopped at DD and Plus size stores had bigger cup sizes but the bands started around 40, too big to even take in.  I started buying online.  I would pick a few try them out and if all was good buy more of the same model.  About 1 in 3 fit well enough to wear, the others I gave away because the shipping for returns made it more trouble than it was worth.

For the past six years I've been wearing "OK" fitting bras, none of them really fit and supported the way I wanted them to but it was better than nothing. 

A few months ago a miracle happened.  I was on a freebie site and got a coupon for $20 off $50 purchase at Addition Elle, a plus size chain.  I knew I couldn’t buy clothes there, but I figured they had shoes and accessories, so I may as well use the coupon.  I was walking around the store I saw magical thing, a big sign that said "now offered in 36".  I tried not to get my hopes up as I moved closer to be sure.  Then I saw it, a 36G bra.  I turned over to the sales lady and asked if she had any more.  She said I could have a fitting; she would bring me the options.  I went to the changing room and removed my much worn out bra as I waited for her to come back. 

She had six bras with her, SIX, and in colors and patterns.  Tears welled up in my eyes; it had been years since I had had a pretty bra.  They fit like a dream; I didn’t know which to choose.  She saw my dilemma and told me that since I was a new customer she could sign me up for the free store card and I would get more coupons by mail, and that that weekend they were doing a promotion that if you buy for over $50 they give you another coupon for $50 off a purchase of $100.  She suggested that I take one of every model and try them out for a month, and then come back with my rebates to get other colours for the ones I like.

I don't remember the last time I so badly wanted to hug a complete stranger.  I went home at a floating on air, excited to show off my new turquoise lace bra to my boyfriend who chuckled a bit about how happy I was over such a small thing.

Over the past few months I've been slowly rebuilding my bra wardrobe and getting rid of any that don’t fit right, slowly because even though they are a necessity, they are still crazy expensive.  I still marvel every day at the comfort of properly fitting bras and every time I put on a colourful or lacy one, it feels just like that first blue lace one with the pink bow that my cousin gave me almost 20 years ago.

I guess you could say that the right bra is a lot like the right shoe; it can change your whole outlook and make your entire day better.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : Write a post inspired by the word: bra

Pinterest Win

I want to start off saying that I absolutely love it when things like this happen.  Here I was, just finished with a Pinterest inspired success, thinking that I really should write a blog post about it, and when I open up this week’s writing prompts, I see « Pinterest Inspired! Share something you pinned and actually tried. ».  Serendipity.

As you probably know if you are reading my posts, we area household comprised of 2 adults, 3 step kids, and 2 cats in a large 3 bedroom apartment.  By large I mean large for an apartment, not large enough to hold all of our stuff without a f***ton of creativity.  So I often turn to Pinterest for ideas on how to maximize space and attempt to keep us organized.

Then last weekend we took the kids to the local library’s annual book sale.  I usually don’t allow myself to go being a book addict and all (which is best saved for another post), but I want the kids to enjoy books and learning.  The books are sold by weight, so initially when the kids asked how many they could choose I said about 4-5 each.  We got there, grabbed a box, by which I mean my BF grabbed a box while we started to fill it up.

We told them that the plan was to grab all of the books they liked and that after we went around, we would sit down and sort out which ones we wanted to bring home.  So we did that, and when I started to look through their choices, I immediately knew I would have trouble.  They made fantastic choices, 75% were reference books, or books of science experiments and the like.  Just as I was starting to add up the daunting total in my head, a volunteer came by, and told us that he was in charge of choosing winners for the day and that he had chosen us.  He then handed us a certificate for 15 kilos of free books.

We weighed our box, 18 kilos, I told the kids that we could keep all of the books they had chosen (57 in all) and it cost us a grand total of 12$.  When we got home, reality hit, and we realized that we had nowhere to put the books.  I went to my computer and opened up my Pinterest board labeled Kids to see if I had pinned any ideas that would work.  I saw this: http://pinterest.com/pin/132504414008802258/

And this past long weekend, we built this :

My very first Pinterest win.

Inspired by Mama Kat's writer's workshop : Pinterest Inspired! Share something you pinned and actually tried.

Sekhmet

I decided that this would be a good time to properly introduce my kitten of mass destruction, Sekhmet.  I wasn’t planning on getting her, she sort of decided for us.  I kind of touched on the story of how we acquired her in a previous post, but this is a great opportunity to present her to the unsuspecting world.

I have a cousin; she is pretty much my favorite cousin.  She is sweet natured and gentle and soft hearted, basically the opposite of me.  Seriously, she seems to have infinite patience, and if it weren’t for the fact that I have known her my whole life, I would be suspicious.  She is one of the very few people that I can honestly say I trust completely and who, when she says something critical I don’t get defensive because I know she wants the best for me.

Anyhow, there were these two stray cats that would come to her door every day and she would feed them, and when it was really cold in the winter she would let them into the basement for the night.  One was an all black tom, and the other was a brown tabby female.  The female was very friendly, and would purr like nobody’s business when you held or pet her.  Eventually, the female got pregnant, by the male, and when my cousin found out, she let her in to give birth in the basement.

She had a litter of 6 black and white kittens.  I was unemployed at the time and went over to visit; they were only a couple of days old.  From that day on, every time I would go over to my cousin’s, this one little kitten would come right over to me.  When I got my other cat, I had wanted a black female, but I ended up with a gray and white tom.  Here was this tiny black fur ball, with 7 toes on each paw and a purr that visibly shook her little body.

My godson started bugging me to bring the kitten home with me, I immediately started to delay and give the multitude of reasons why I couldn’t, the main one being that my other cat, who is almost 12, was a very solitary cat and got nasty and territorial whenever I had tried to bring another pet into the house.

Time went on, and all of the other kittens were spoken for, except this one.  Finally I caved and said I would try it out, but that I would bring it back if my other cat didn’t accept her.  I brought her home, and after much hissing and spitting, three days later he was playing with her and grooming her.

I had been had, but I had no idea how much she would change our household dynamic. 

I named her Sekhmet, after the Egyptian Goddess.  Sekhmet was a fierce lioness whose name means « the (one who is) powerful ».  She is clumsy, very vocal, and adorably stupid.  Though she spends most of her time running and playing, she is double her ideal weight.  She unintentionally destroys most things she comes into contact with, but will then come up to you, with her mother’s loud purr, and snuggle away all of your anger.  

Inspired by Mama Kat’s pretty much world famous writing prompts - Introduce a pet

***UPDATE***

The Berlin wall

I was almost 8, my mom called me to the living room and told me that I had to pay attention.  There was a wall in Germany that was coming down.  I knew almost nothing about Germany at the time, except that mu aunt was from there.  I knew even less about communism.

My mom told me to pay attention, that this was important and that I would be happy later that I could say that I had seen it.  I sat down cross legged on he floor and watched.  At first I didn’t understand how something so violent, so destructive, could be good.  I asked my mom about it and she explained about communism, and world war 2 etc.

Again, I was confused, communism sounded good to me in my child’s mind.  Everyone sharing, wasn’t that what the grown ups were always telling us to do.  My mom eventually gave up on trying to answer my questions and suggested we go to the library.  This was pre internet, so we headed to the encyclopedias.

This event sparked a life-long interest in history, politics, and world events for me.  From then on I would watch what was going on in the world, and become active whenever I could.  It sparked the journey of learning that would mold my ideals and beliefs and help to create the woman I am today.

This made me curious about other cultures, other religions and belief systems which mold and shape other people’s ideals, and affect how the world works, and evolves.  That day showed me that not all that seems peaceful is good, and not all violence is unnecessary.  That one man’s terrorist an be another’s freedom fighter, and that things are always more complex than they seem.

Today I must admit that my mom was right, I am glad that she made me sit down and watch that day, and you better believe that I will make current and world events a part of my stepchildren’s education whenever possible

Inspired by Mama Kat’s pretty much world famous writing prompts - How old were you? Share one of the first news stories you remember caring about

A year ago

A year ago this week on my blog, there was nothing.  A year ago we were living one of the hardest things one can as a family, the possibility of one of the children being abused, and not knowing by who.  We were meeting with children’s services, and generealy just trying to keep our s**t together.

A year ago I had hope, because the kids’ mom and us were acting as a unit, a team, in the best interests of the kids.  I had hoped that it would be a new beginning for us all.

Sadly, my hopes were dashed, and while everthing worked out last year, this year is different.  

A year later we are having to fight for my BF’s visitation with the kids, and with the constant threats on her part that she will make sure we never see them.  This year, instead of her asking for my help, she is hurling insults and threats at me.  It has been over two months since she said she no longer wanted to see me or hear from me, and I have respected that.  Now she says that she wants a court order to make sure I can’t have contact with the kids, that I would have to leave my home when they are there.

ven if I know I have done nothing wrong, the threat is there.  I wonder what vile thing she will say, what will she accuse me of in order to get her way.  I know she can’t simply say «  I don’t want my kids to see her » as a reason, so what will she say?  I worry constantly about what she says to the kids about me, and how she may be making them feel conflicted about their feelings.

A year has passed, and though the particuliar situation has changed, I am still just trying to go one daya t a time and keep my s**t together.  This time it is much harder to hope and have faith that everything will work out.  I keep trying to remember my Nanny’s words, « when things are so dark that you can’t see the light, you just look down at your feet and focus on each step, eventually you will reach the light. »

Inspired by Mama Kat’s pretty much world famous writing prompts - Look into your archives. What were you blogging about a year ago around this time? Are you still dealing with the same thing? Your thoughts?

My 6 favorite quotes

Inspired by Mama Kat’s pretty much world famous writing prompts - My 6 favorite quotes

****UPDATE**** Just a few more :)

 

A couch...or is it more than that?

The last time I faced a fear isn’t even over with, it’s in progress, and it's to the point I am breaking out in hives.  It is a fear that most people would say i stupid, or irrational.  My fear is a couch, though I guess you could say it’s not so much the couch as what it represents.

For the past 8 years, I have had the same couch.  It’s a nice couch, very comfortable, my cousin gave it to me when I got my first apartment here.  I have spent a lot of time with that couch, and even gotten many compliments on it.  When I met my boyfriend, the first time he came over he immediatly started laughing because he had the exact same one at home.  I remember joking that it meant we were meant to be. 

When we moved to the new apartment, we decided to bring my couch, since it was in better condition.  Another important thing to note is that though we have lived together for a year and a half, we have no common possessions.  Everything is either mine or his, it’s all very cut and dry.

Then a while back we started talking about how the next thing we would like to upgrade is the couch, because as nice and comfy as it it, it’s starting to show it’s age.  We weren’t actively shopping for a replacement, but we got an offer we couldn’t refuse.  A one year old Lazyboy, in almost new condition, still under store warrenty, but for a third of the price of new.  The couch in question was even in our current colours, no no redecorating.  We discussed it, and after some creative budgeting, we said yes.

The couch gets delivered today, and I’m not ashamed to say that I had a mini panick attack last night and became suddenly, irrationally attached to my old couch.  All it took was my BF asking what we were to do with the old couch when the new one came and it hit me like a ton of bricks.  My couch would no longer be a « my couch », it would be an « our couch », half his.  It is a significant investment in our home, the first major one, as in over 50$.  For someone like me who had nothing but instability growing up, having owned the same large piece of furniture for almost a decade is in itself a big step.  I hadn’t realized it, but my couch represented a lot to me.  It was a symbol of my growing up, adulthood, reponsibility and stability. 

In just a few hours that symbol will be gone, replaced with another symbol.  A symbol of us, and our home, and our building a life together, and while that is stilla great symbol, of great things, it scares the bejeezuz out of me.

Inspired by Mama Kat’s pretty much world famous writing prompts - The last time you faced a fear

A love story the makes me happy.

It was summer 1943, a 17 year old girl went with her sister to go meet a young man that her parents thought suitable for her.  Being in a rural area, they were to go and sit with the boys on the porch at the boys’ home, dating the way we think of it didn’t exist.  The went by buggy, since the boys were one town over, and while they were to be chaperoned with the boys, for the buggy ride it was just the two girls.  The eldest was used to her independance, as she had been working for the family from a young age, either carrying homemade jams into town to sell, or helping out for women who had recently given birth.  A sort buggy ride was nothing new or daunting to her.

Meanwhile, two young men, aged 18 and 19 were making themselves as presentable as possible after a hard day of clearing forest by hand.  They washed away the sweat and dirt with the help of their mother and then sat on the porch to await the young ladies coming to meet them.  Meanwhile, another young man, only just 16, teased his brothers about their "wife shopping".  He did his usual quick wash up after a days’ work, and sat with his brothers.

They would later say it was instant, fireworks.  The 17 year old, fiercly independant girl, and the shy barely 16 year old boy.  In those days i twas almost unheard of for a girl to be older than her fiance, and it turned out to be quite the scandal since she had been intended for his eldest brother, but from that day on, they only had eyes for eachother and neither would budge.

Almost two years later, after a long courtship due to the groom being on the young side and a little cought unawares and unprepared, they were married in a triple ceremony.  Two sisters and a brother married two brothers and a sister.  The war was coming, and this was not a rich area, so no one thought it odd that they would all share the ceremony since the guest lists would be the same anyways.

For their time and their place, they were quite the odd couple to an outsider’s eyes.  He was a tall, stocky man, she a tiny wisp of a woman who only ever weighed 100lbs when she was pregnant.  She hated cooking, so she bought ready made food during the week, and he would cook the family dinners on the weekends when he was home.  During the week she wore pants, and drove a car, and took care of most aspects of her husband’s affaires.  It was widely known that it was he who was the soft touch.

They would share in 15 pregnancies, 11 births, and 9 children who survived to adulthood.  At the wedding of their second child, she was pregnant with the last.  When people would ask why she didn’t demand a second bedroom as most women did at the time, she would just smile, and say that her husband belonged in her bed.

Years later he would be diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, and as his health deteriorated, people would ask why she didn’t just place him in a home, she would just smile, and say that her husband belonged in her bed.

Eventually, he was so sick that he had no mobility whatsoever, and it was then that her children decided to force her to put him in a nursing home.  The home was a 20 minute drive away, but she went every day.

In 1995, he died, less than a year later it was her in the nursing home.  She gave up driving, shopping and most activities, the only thing she enjoyed anymore was visits from her family, where she would always repeat the family is what is most important in this world.

In 2009, when she was nearing the end, her mind started to wander, and often happens, and she would spend most of her time reliving other periods of her life.  They all included him.  Once, she asked for her blue shoes, when asked why, she replied that the blue shoes went with her blue dress and that she had to hurry and get ready because Nelson was on his way to take her dancing.  Almost 15 years after his death, he was still alive, and well, and young and handsome in her head.

This story makes me smile because it is the story of my grandparents.  They were far from perfect, but they had an amazing love and a true partnership.  No matter how jaded I became, I would imagine them young, her in her blue dress, dancing, and I would remember that though it is rare, that kind of love does exist.

Inspired by Mama Kat’s pretty much world famous writing prompts - A love story the makes you happy

How I met his kids

We had been dating for a couple of months, things were going well so far, and we had been keeping things on the down low because we wanted to see if things worked between us without adding in any extra variables.  I had always refused to date guys with kids before, and I knew that his relationship with his ex was complicated to say the least, but I had a good feeling about this one.  I was beyond freaked out though, I wasn’t sure I was up to the task of being a stepmom, or even if I wanted to be.

Then there came a point where we had to see how things would go with the kids.  As much as we were into each other, we know that my bond with the kids, or lack thereof, would be a deal breaker.  So we took the plunge.

We decided to start with the boys, as they were older, and his daughter was only 18 months old at the time.  We picked a nice neutral place, bowling.  He had told me a lot about them already, so I had an idea of what to expect.  Boy 1, the oldest, was friendly and outgoing and affectionate, Boy 2 was quiet and reserved, mostly due to his dysphasia and lack of verbal skills.  We met at the alley, played a few sets.  Boy 1 didn’t take long to warm to me, Boy 2 only gave me a few smiles, but my BF said he thought it went well, the kids liked me, and I liked them.

A couple of weeks later it was Easter, and I was invited to meet his family, as well as his daughter.  Everyone was there by the time I arrived.  I opened the door to my name being shrieked.  Boy 1 ran to me and gave me a great big hug.  My future MIL smiled, so far I was making a great first impression.  Then as I was taking off my shoes, Boy 2 calmly walked up to me and gave me a quick hug around my legs, I didn’t realize then how meaningful that was.  My MIL was shocked, but in a very pleasant way, she knew how rare it is for him to demonstrate physical affection, even if I didn’t at the time.

Next was the Girl, who proceeded to not say a word and give me the stink-eye all through brunch.  Even an Easter chocolate only got me a warily opened hand.  She was only 18 months old at the time, but her little personality was starting to show.  It was only late in the evening that I got a small smile from her.  I know now that it’s just the way she reacts to unfamiliarity, she basically shuts down, no sound, no expression of any kind.

I focused on the boys, and the in-laws that I had just met.  I remember it felt like a really stressful job interview, both sides trying to figure out whether or not I could one day fit into this family.  MIL1 was distant but polite, but the fact that I obviously made her son and grandsons happy encouraged her.

Fast forward to my BF’s next visitation weekend, he gets the kids in the car, put the key in the ignition, and immediately hears “Where’s Damsel?”, and that was it, I was in for the ride of my life.  Now I think of easter as our family's anniversary, the day our new family started.

Inspired by Mama Kat’s pretty much world famous writing prompts - An Easter memory