Rethinking Pink

I’m not a girly girl, never have been. I grew up wedged between two sisters. I was the middle, uber-eccentric child. I never wanted to play ‘princess’ or had any desire to wear dresses, experiment with make-up, or play with dolls. Instead, I would strong-arm my sisters into playing ‘work,’ my best friend (I use this term loosely) in grade one was a boy named Michael, and my fashion accessory obsession at that age was a pair of boyish, navy-blue tap shoes- quite the opposite of pink with frills. Luckily, my parents never Continue reading

The Mighty

A couple weeks ago I read an incredibly thoughtful and introspective post. It was written from the perspective of a retired teacher reminiscing about a student that made an indelible mark on his teaching career. It actually brought tears to my eyes because the story highlighted everybody’s ability to touch another soul without ever knowing their affect on others. I personally don’t know the writer (I follow his blog) but his commitment to teaching and the compassion he had for his students really came through. It touched me greatly because it reminded me of my favourite middle school teacher, Ms. Motsch.

As a young girl, my homelife was Continue reading

I’m An Asshole

My husband and I have been held hostage. It will be 3 years this coming April. The cavalry isn’t coming; hostage rescue has been halted mainly only because the offender is my 2-year-old toddler, and well, she won’t leave. 

Most days it feels like we’re being held captive by an unreasonable foreigner who we have a Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexelsmajor communication barrier with (and other days, we wonder if there are a few cards missing in her deck). In other words, my toddler is absolutely insane! I’m sorry, that’s not entirely Continue reading

On Motherhood

I’m walking down a corridor in a popular mid-town mall with a couple of my best friends when we pass an adorable baby with endless chub. Then it suddenly occurs to me- I also have one of these. I, too, am a mother. This scenario always happens when I least expect it. It’s an odd feeling, as if it only just occurred to me that I also created human life. “Someone actually let you be a mother?” is a thought that pops into my head every single time; like I needed permission to push a 10 lb. meatloaf out of my own vagina. No, there is no aptitude test for parenthood. One day you’re not a parent and the next day, well, you just are. Here is a quick synopsis of what actually happens in the process (in case you weren’t aware): Continue reading