Being Single….

When you’re newly single, there’s a rush…  an excitement…  it’s like the world is yours for the taking.

Some people are easily able to keep on with that lifestyle; carry on with that feeling.  They have no problems with single and the single life has no problems with them.

Then there are others, like me, that don’t thrive in that environment very well.  We can do it…   and we do it…  but that’s because, for one reason or another, there is no other choice.  

But it’s not a lifestyle that we embrace when it carries on for too long…  nor is it a lifestyle that we can find any type of comfort in.

Instead, it almost suffocates us.  

We change.  

We become….  almost…  invisible.  

Everything changes…  it’s gradual, but it happens.

Our friends drift away because they tire of the ‘third wheel’ and really only want to do things with their couple friends…  so we don’t see our friends anymore…  or don’t get invited out…  or…  well, it’s like we don’t get thought of much at all.

Meeting new friends is hard because you do everything you can to keep busy that you forget how to just go out and say ‘HI’…  so you keep busy with whatever fills your days and your nights.

If you’re like me, you go through a phase where you put yourself right out there… and you try everything…  but it all seems fruitless because the only thing you end up with at the end of it all are a bunch of questions:
What’s wrong with me?
Am I destined to be single forever? 
Why doesn’t anyone want to take the time to get to know me?
What’s wrong with me?

And then you burrow yourself deeper into whatever it is that you’ve been doing to try to keep your mind off of the fact that you’re single.  

And you wrap your invisibility cloak around you just a bit tighter.

You try to go out; strike out solo…  catch a band…  grab a drink at a bar….  have dinner…  walks in the park…  shopping…   All of it in hopes that you might catch someone’s eye… Or that someone might catch yours…  But it never seems to happen.  And if it does, you’re so fucking scared of further rejection that you talk yourself out of even saying ‘Hi’…

And time marches on.  The sun rises…  the sun sets…  you crawl into bed every night exhausted wondering why all of this is happening…  wondering if it will ever stop…  wondering if you’ll ever stop being invisible to everyone; including your friends.

Some nights you cry….

Some nights you’re too tired to cry because you are literally pushing yourself harder to forget the empty space in your life…

Until you get to where I am now…  


Working 60 hours a week.

Hardly going out anymore because well, really, what’s the point?  

Seeing one friend out of the bunch that you used to think you had…  because no one has time for the third wheel…  

And contemplating asking your ex husband to ‘make it work’ just so the lonely isn’t there anymore.  

It’s a big house…  

Wee would have both of her parents back….

She could have all of the great things that other people can give their kids that I on my own can’t…..  

And maybe I’d feel less invisible.   


If Everyone Would Do Their Part….

Wouldn’t the world be a lovely place if everyone would do their part?  If everyone would be accountable?  If everyone would pitch in? 

Wouldn’t it be lovely?  

They say many hands make light work.   That is more true than you could know.  

If we all pitched in and did our part, everyone’s lives would be a bit easier and run a bit more smoothly.  

Good logic, right?

So then why the fuck don’t we all do it?  Where the fuck has common sense, common courtesy, and the desire to fucking well be accountable and do your part gone?  

Let me back up…  oh….   twenty-nine hours.

My phone rings.  

Shit.  It’s the day camp where Wee has gone for the summer.

“Oh really it’s no big deal.  Really.  It’s just lice and we found some eggs on your daughter.  Treat her once and you can bring her back tomorrow.”

By this point in the conversation I’m hyperventilating; quite literally losing my shit.  

Lice…  I’ve read about these nasty little fuckers…  Fuck.  I’ve heard about them.  Hell, I even knew a kid or two who had them when I was growing up.  But I’ve never dealt with them personally. Never once have I had to deal with them personally.  Even growing up in a family with SIX kids…  Six kids who were into all sorts of team and group and camp and outdoors and tons of friends and activities…  NEVER ONCE was their lice in our house.

Why?   Because if someone we knew had the fucking things, you wouldn’t see them until it was fixed.   

When I was a kid…  When I was growing up, if someone had lice it was a big fucking deal.  You wouldn’t see that kid for seven days.   After those seven days, sure, you’d see them, but they’d have that pesticide aroma around them for a few more weeks. 

There was no fucking around.  There was a “No Nit” policy.  People would take care of the shit and it wouldn’t spread like wildfire through the masses. 

Now the general attitude seems to be “Meh, they’re kids.  They get lice.  They’ll get over it”.

FUCK THAT.  NO.  That’s not right. 

You keep your buggy kid home till that shit gets fixed! 

There should be no ‘treat once, bring it back’ option.  Fuck.  That’s how this mess started in my house.  Some kid had the bugs and the parents were told ‘treat once, bring it back’…  Now half the fucking camp has the bugs… A WEEK BEFORE SCHOOL.

Do you know what the lifecycle is on those fucking things?   FUCK!!! 

Fuck no.   A letter like this should go home:

Maybe people would wake the fuck up and be accountable and be responsible and do their damn jobs right.

Maybe people would stop and think. 

All I knew within the first hour of the phone call was that I needed help; I needed good solid advice…  And I needed a drink.

I have a week to clear this shit up.

Then I thought about all of the people impacted if I didn’t clear this up right.  Everyone from my neighbour who has a lovely daughter who makes sure my Wee gets on and off the bus okay all the way to the lady down the street with TWO kids who are going to be in my Wee’s class, one of which has leukemia.  She has eight people in her house in total.  EIGHT DAMMIT.  And I’m sure her little one with leukemia would not be able to have anywhere near her the chemicals needed to properly get rid of the lice.


I needed help.  I needed help NOW. 

And I wasn’t going to turn to anyone who was an ‘old hat’ at dealing with lice.  If you’ve dealt with it that much, you’re not the person I want advice from. 

I wanted sound advice from people who felt the sense of pressure and panic that I was feeling AT THAT MOMENT, who handled the problem, and who have never had the problem again. 

Off I go to my mommy bloggers and the CDC website:

Off I went with both of those printed out to the pharmacy, with our hairdresser texting me instructions, and a nurse from the Health Unit on my phone. 

Fuck this.   

A whole lot of money later, the process started. 

Now, twenty-nine and a half hours after the phone call, we have a routine in place that is going to involve one load of laundry every day, vacuuming twice a day, nit picking with a lice comb twice a day, two runs a day with the Robi Comb, and enough tea tree oil to float a ship in. 

I’ve got this. 

I’m mad…  I’m tired…  I’m frustrated…  I’m MAD… 

Because on top of all of this, I’m still working, my daughter is home from camp because I don’t want her to infest anyone else (or get re-infested) because it is my responsibility as her parent to ensure that this doesn’t spread beyond her. 

I can’t control what everyone else does, but I can control what I do…  And the lice stop here. 

Some people who know about the problem are saying “oh, you’re making this harder on yourself than you need to.  You don’t need to do all of that work.”

Oh yeah?   The CDC seems to think this IS a big deal.  So does every mom out there who has had to deal with this who never wants to deal with this again.  So does my hairdresser, our pharmacist, and the nice lady at the Health Unit. 

The only people who seem to believe this isn’t a big deal are those who don’t want to spend the time and money getting rid of the little beasts properly and who don’t want to do the work to keep the fucking things gone; the people who are ‘too busy’ to keep their buggy kids home; and the people who just plain don’t give a shit. 

Fuck that. 

I don’t have the time, the money, or the desire to do what I’m doing right now; battling lice with everything that I have.  But it’s my responsibility to ensure that MY kid doesn’t infect everyone else.  So I have to make the time.  I have to find the money.  I have to have more desire to never see them again than I have to turn a blind eye to the problem and assume Nix is gonna handle this shit for me. 

That’s not a solution; that’s a fucking copout. 

Getting rid of these little shits is a full time job.  On top of that I’m still working my full time job.  And I’m doing it all as a single mom.

Have YOU ever tried nit picking your own hair?  It’s not fun.  It’s not easy.  But I’m fucking doing it because I HAVE TO.  That’s my fucking job. 

My fucking job is to make sure that come September second, my kid is not going to give anyone else any bugs. 

And dammit, I’m gonna do just that. 

So to all of those thinking and saying that I’m making a big deal out of nothing…  Sure, okay.  That’s your opinion.   We all have one…  but think about this:
If I wasn’t making a  big deal now, if I didn’t stop it now…  Who would be at fault when your kid and my kid met up in a few days and my kid and your kid put their heads together…  And then your bug free kid ended up with bugs?  And then your kid and my kid were buggy best buds.  Who would be at fault?  

But all kids get them…..

Perhaps if THAT thinking went away, all kids wouldn’t get them…  Because we’d all be responsible for making sure that we didn’t spread them around.    

Lice:  Not a rite of passage.  What they are is a huge money drain, a huge inconvenience, and a huge pain in the ass. 

It’s Amazing….

Time has passed so quickly.  

This summer; our first summer break from school; it is almost over.  

It honestly feels like summer is busier in general, with less opportunity for me to get any kind of down-time than what I get during the school year.  

And I suppose that’s because of the morning routine, the evening routine, and all of the extra lessons that my Wee was wanting to fit in.  

But amongst all of the busy, we kept the fun.  We kept the love, we kept the laughter, we kept the learning…  

And we kept the fun.  

Did we get to do everything that I had wanted to do?  Take the trips I wanted to take?  No.  Sadly, no.  But that’s okay.  We had fun.  

And the trips we did take meant more to us.  Better memories were created.  More laughs were had.  

And that’s what matters.  

But I just can’t believe how the time is slipping.  How it is passing like water through my fingers.  

I was at the kitchen sink last night doing the dishes and a storm rolled in.  It reminded me of a storm almost three years ago…  a storm of great power.  A storm that marked another day when my life took a complete change and became something entirely new.   

And then I couldn’t believe it’s been three years.

And then of course, as my mind will, it started sorting through its memory snapshots…  pictures of times that it remembers just like they were yesterday.  Some great moments; some moments I wish I could forget.  

All of them snapshots.  

Some of those snapshots would dig up more memories…  or an actual complete replay of the events so detailed that those replays would be full of the of sights and sounds and smells that I was perceiving in those moments.  So detailed that the feelings that I was feeling in those moments would flood back like I was reliving those moments again right now.  

Some of those snapshots made me chuckle and smile…  

Others made me sigh…

Others made me cry…  

Hell, sitting here right now, writing about my recent trip down memory lane, my recent sorting of my snapshots…  I’m crying.

Time is passing quickly…  It’s marked by some great achievements…  some amazing laughs…  some great friends who continue to stand by my side.  Some new friends have come into the picture; some old friends have left…  but some great friends are still standing.  

And time is passing…  Some of that time has been full of more than a lifetime worth of sorrow and pain for me…  Some of those memories have left dark marks on my mind and demons in my heart…  

Despite that though, there is still the fun. 

Words Of Wisdom….

That’s right…  I’m just about to spill words of wisdom for each and every one of you who reads this….

And do understand… I know that we all have different levels of tolerance for stuff… and a great love of nurturing our children and their ideas.

But sometimes you just have to say no.

And I’m going to advise you, right now, from one person to another….

If your child ever says anything that even remotely resembles the phrase
“Can we raise Cecropia Moths?”
Run…  Just run…  Run like the gates of hell have just opened and every demon has spilled forth and is chasing you.


What is a Cecropia Moth you’re asking?

Let me enlighten you….

cecropia-moth-cats  Here’s how they start…  cute right?Moth_Silk_Cecropia_catAnd then if you’re lucky, you get to here….  cecropia3And if you’re even luckier you get to here….  Cecropia_Moth_Gap_Mills,_WVAnd then if you’re luckiest of all…  this is the                                                                                   end result…  After MONTHS of care and                                                                                         feeding and cleaning and concern and…

By the time you get to photo two; depending on how many of the little things you started out with; you will be worrying constantly…. 


And a whole list of other neurotic worries that you will have.  But again, that all depends on how many you started with out of the gate….

For your first shot at this, to have any hope of making it to picture two, you had best damn well start with A MILLION!!!!   

And once they get to picture two…  hold on to your tree leaves…  cause they’ll eat them all in a BLINK.  

If you have more than one get to picture two, you’ll likely also have more than one container on the go; one for the house, one for the ‘hospital’ where you isolate the one that is looking or acting a bit funny.  Why you ask?  Well because let me tell you, illness spreads through these little monsters faster than a cold spreads through a daycare.  One drops dead, if you don’t handle that shit PROPERLY right away, they’re all dead.  

And I’m not talking just scoop out the little mushy corpse…  Oh hells no.  You have to sterilize the shit out of whatever container they have been calling home before inspecting all of the survivors for signs of the illness and putting them back in their home.  

That’s where we’re at right now with our Cecropia Moths.  Most are at picture two.  I have two ‘laggers’ who I have isolated into their own peewee container.  The larger of the picture two caterpillars each have their own jar.  Two picture twos are smaller in size so they’re bunking together.  And then we have the hospital.  I insist that they spend three days in isolation before I will even consider reintroduction into a home environment.  

I’ve lost enough of the little monsters to their diseases.  I am not going to lose any more!!!  

And feeding?  I’m up to EVERY DAY.  Clean their homes, get new leaves, look them over, back in, here’s your grub, don’t die on me kay?  

And this all started with an ‘over the summer’ project from her school….  

*Slams head off desk*…

I’m all for engaging your children and helping them learn and grow and experience but…..  

Just run….  Run like the wind.

A Little Bit Of Shock… A Little Bit Of Awe…. A Lot Of Fun….

So I have to say first and foremost; Wee and I are having a BLAST.  This weekend has been so much fun…  And really, it’s brought us closer together.  

We’re not spending a million dollars.  We’re not travelling to new and exotic places.  We’re not even really doing anything exciting.  What we are doing though is rolling it all back to the basics and just spending time.  

It’s been amazing.  

I love her so much.  She really is an amazing little girl.  So full of compassion and empathy…  and FUN!  She is so fun!

And then we had a visitor.

I knew the visitor was coming.  I invited her out.  But I didn’t EXPECT her to actually come out.  

But she did.  

And she brought with her news and stories that I know all too well.

I think she was going to try to pass everything off as ‘being great’…  but then I think she saw me seeing…  I think she saw me listening and hearing….   I think she saw me knowing before she said a word.

My poor sister has gotten divorced. 

The absolutely wonderful man who she had met, fell in love with, and married…  well, he claims that he decided he just couldn’t do it anymore.  He says that he decided that he had had enough.  He states that he decided that the weight of her illness was far too heavy for him to bear any longer.  

So he cut all ties; even the ones that she had with his children.  

And she’s left….  Broken.  Absolutely broken.

She misses him horribly.   Misses the children.  Misses the life that they had.  

She’s been shattered by someone who meant well; but who just couldn’t bear the weight of their own past and the future that they were trying to build.  

Hm, sounds familiar.  

She then told me of his exit strategy; make everything her fault so that she felt perfectly small.  Everything.  Right down to the tumour that he knew about long before they said ‘I do’.  Somehow that tumour is her fault.  

Hm….  that sounds familiar too.  

That all sounds a lot like where I have been.  

It sounds a lot like the shit I’ve had to swim through.  

Why are there so many broken people out there in the world?   And why do they insist upon tearing up everyone who tries to love them?  

Why can’t they just gracefully say you know what, I made a mistake.  I’m so sorry.  So very sorry. 

Why must they make everything everyone else’s fault, point out every flaw that everyone has, tear them down, tear them up, and leave them broken?  

Why must people behave badly?