It’s My Birthday Song, In My Happy World I Know It’s Gonna Be A Good Day Oh Yeah, Today Is My Birthday

I’m 32.

My birthday this year was what I’m assuming everything I should expect for my life from here on out. It was last Sunday, and I decided instead of wallow around at home for the day, I’d get out of the house and just basically try and forget I’m gonna be old and wrinkly and grey and alone soon.

I took the kids out to Denny’s (SUPER fancy I know) but I got breakfast for free and I’m trying to maintain a strict budget so this way we still had a nice sit down breakfast that I didn’t have to make and I didn’t have to clean up after. So to me, nowadays, that’s fancy. I should mention while we’re on the topic of fancy, Little E dressed up for me. He is a strict sweatpants and sports shirt kinda boy. Athletic wear all the way. So when I told them we were going out for breakfast for my birthday he pulled up in his one pair of jeans I make him keep in the depts of his drawers in case of like a funeral or something, and a collared dress shirt. I guess I’m raising him right after all. Z wears dresses 24/7 so it was just nice that she brushed her teeth for the ‘occasion’.

I came out of the bathroom after doing my makeup (for once) because if there’s any day to feel extra beautiful, I guess 32 years old is the day and the kids had made me little homemade cards ♥️. Adorable hey?

So anyway on the way to breakfast we stopped at one of the wineries that we live beside and took a few pictures because 1) it’s my birthday 2) who knows when I’d see Little E looking so sharp and it needed to be documented. Then off to breakfast.

Afterward we wandered the mall for a bit, I obviously got my free Starbucks to enjoy and we just browsed like 16 year old VSCO girls. While we were at the mall my oldest friend S called to wish me a happy birthday. S and I haven’t been tight during our adult life since our respective lives have taken us on our own paths but we’ve known each other since we were in grade 4, and we always come back to each other. It’s those friends that you have that no matter what, you can just pick up where you left off, trust levels the same, bonds not broken, you just know that yep your good for life no matter what shit happens. That’s S and I. And it’s so unlikely if you were to look at us, or even our lives. I’m a towering 5’10 overweight white girl and S is barely 5 foot and comes from a strict Asian home and has obtained a Masters Degree. She travels the world with both her family and her partner, and just basically…. is so different than me in every way. Which is great because then we at least have stories to share when get back together, it not the same stuff we’re struggling with, we have different experiences and view points, yet maintain respect for each other. Anyways chatting with her was good.

My little sister also called and I sang the itsy bitsy spider for my niece in the mall, which has become her billboard #1. My parents did FaceTime and I was expecting my dad at least to sing happy birthday as is was his tradition every year, so when I saw the name pop up on the phone I braced myself to be put through the song, but for some reason this year there was no song. He used to even call me in Kenya to sing, but this year no song. I guess 32 is finally the year when you’re to old to have your parents sing happy birthday to you. 👎🏼

My co-workers all forgot about my birthday which was fine and disappointing at the same time. I know that doesn’t make sense, but on one hand, you want to at least be acknowledged, but you don’t wanna stand there awkwardly while they sing to you. So fine/disappointing.

Anyways I guess the main point of this post is….

I’m 32. And I managed to not cry on my birthday. I realized that I’m going to have birthdays and get older weather certain people acknowledge it or not. I understand it is possible to have a birthday pass, a “celebration” of a year of my life, without receiving a single gift or intimate hug or a bite of cake. Those things don’t stop the passage of time. So I can just choose to age gracefully and with dignity based on the choices I’ve made in my own life, not on how others have chosen to pour into my life, or chosen to remain absent. Either way, I’m getting older. And as they say, age is just a number. You don’t become a year older in a day. It’s the whole years worth of experiences and wisdom and time that got you there.

It’s how much you value it that is most important, although just one gift would’ve made it a little more special, not gonna lie.


-Madonna/B-Day Song-

We Coming From A Long Bloodline Of Trauma We Raised By Our Mamas, Lord We Gotta Heal

I’m here, and alive.

I truly have nothing of value to say in this post, I just have the urge to write. I know it’s been a while and so here I am.

Many things have happened in my life since my last post. Little E turned 9 last week, and Z’s birthday is also coming up this Thursday. She’ll be 6. E didn’t even call on his birthday to wish him a happy birthday, I had to remind him the other day that he missed it and then he finally called to wish a happy birthday. Who forgets their own child’s birthday? Obviously my ex does. Every time he does hurtful things like this I’m ashamed at my own choice of a partner in life. I chose that man. I must’ve been so broken at that point to have made the actual decision that he would be the best thing to join with moving forward. And all I can do now is forever work at filling the holes I created in my own children by choosing E as a father. I have to be double for them. And that’s no ones fault but mine. I made that idiotic choice, and I’m the only one who’s got any sense at this point to realize the damage he’s caused/causing, so I have to so my best to keep them whole, even with this gaping figure missing in their life. But the show goes on.

My sister N and her little family came and spent the week with us for their summer vacation last week. It’s weird being the vacation destination for others. I mean it was fun, we pretty much spent the majority of the time at the beach just doing nothing, as a proper holiday should be. But as it is with other people in your house, sleeping arrangements get all mixed up and her daughter had only just turned one so there were a few crying sessions throughout the night. But all in all it was a good trip.

Since this post has somehow turned into a little bit of odds and ends, I guess I throw in this short story.

I took my kayak out on the lake for the first (and only if I’m honest) time a few weeks ago. Now when I first bought it, I had grand dreams of going out all the time. I don’t know why. I literally had done it once before out on the ocean when I was 15/16 and just remembered it was really relaxing, so why not attempt to recreate that atmosphere? Well, for starters I ordered my kayak online through Canadian Tire since I’d been looking since last summer and finally in April they had a 30% off sale, so I ordered online. I did all my research and read all the reviews etc and found what I thought would be the best one. I needed it to be delivered since it wouldn’t fit in my car and I don’t have a roof rack or anything, and my plan was that once it was at my house, I can just carry it down to the lake. It was only 50lbs and my logic was if Z if 60lbs and I and carry her and Little E who’s 80lbs ok, then this should be fine. Well. First, Canadian Tire’s ‘delivery program’ is ridiculous. After so many calls back and forth with them, it took close to 5 weeks from the date I ordered until the date I got it delivered. Then, it turns out to just be some dude in his mini-van. I happened to be getting home from work right as he drove in, and we started talking, and he said he just got the call that day to do the delivery. But the people I was talking one the phone with told me multiple times that there were no availability for the past 4-5 weeks to get anything to my house. I’m like common I don’t live out in the boonies! The guy says he could have done it like any day in the past month and that he’s their normal guy, they just didn’t ask him. I was pissed.

Anyways, my kayak story wasn’t going to be about the purchase and delivery, that’s just extra for you because you’re special and I think you’re cute and needed a tip about Canadian Tire’s crappy delivery.

My ACTUAL story, was when I finally got it into the lake. I had Little E help me carry it to the lake, because even though it advertised being 50lbs, it’s an awkward 50lbs. It doesn’t wrap it’s arms and legs around you when you go to carry it. It’s 10 feet long and too wide to grasp across. So Little E helped me get it to the water. And off I went.

Great. Fun. Beautiful. I was having the time of my life so far from the shore, until I actually LOOKED DOWN INTO THE DEEP BLACK ABYSS OF THE WATER BELOW, and remembered my crippling fear. The fear of not knowing what was below me. The fear that some massive fish (go ahead and laugh) would come and tip the boat and I wouldn’t even see it coming because I couldn’t even see it coming.  The fear that a huge wave would come and rock the kayak and I would flip and a combination of drowning and being eaten alive by a bunch of unknown lake creatures would kill me.

Needless to say, I had to take more than a few moments to compose myself. I took a few deep calming breaths, then I steadied the kayak and turned it to head closer to shore, not realizing in my previous enjoyment that I had practically rowed out into the middle of the lake. I forced myself to stay out on the water for another half and hour, rowing at the point where I could see the lake bottom on one side of the kayak, and the other side was black, like it dropped off right below me. I listened to my music, and even took a few pictures to remember this moment.

Basically I needed to know for myself that, even though I don’t have many fears that I struggle with on a day to day basis, the fears I have are deep, and I can eventually overcome them. Did I overcome it that day? Well, probably not considering I haven’t been back out on the kayak yet. But on the other hand, I haven’t put the kayak up for sale so it’s not a lost cause lol.

I’ll go out again. It was beautiful and initially calming. But who says I can’t just say I did it once and use that as my victory for  life?

Me. Because I know that nagging feeling is still within me. That I’m letting something hold me back from enjoying something. Yes, I still go swimming in the lake all the time with the kids. But only in the clear water where I can see the bottom. Where it’s fish/seaweed free.

Just like us all, I’m a work in progress.


-J. Cole / Middle Child-

Lately, I’ve Been, I’ve Been Thinking I Want You To Be Happier

Yesterday I got my head outta the clouds and took my kids out. We went to Toys’R’Us and after browsing around for a good hour, they each got to pick out a toy. I figured this was the best way to treat myself for my birthday and get over the birthday blues, would be to buy them something, which in turn would give me a hypothetical few hours to myself during the day.

Little E chose a new LEGO set and Z picked out a toy phone with a pair of keys to put in her purse, which she had brought with us. Then in the parking lot we saw the local hockey team was doing a fundraiser so Little E got to play some street hockey for a bit and Z got her facepainted, and they both ended the adventure with some cake. Fitting since I didn’t get myself any cake the day before.

Anyways the kids had fun with their toys yesterday. Little E was even up early this morning so he could finish off his LEGO set. Something I told him to please not do again, because he woke up everyone in the house early and he has all the time in the world after school instead. So now I’m anticipating a grumpy boy to deal with when I pick them up from day care today.

Other than that, nothing new.

Thank you everyone for all the birthday wishes.

Here’s to starting out my thirty second year of life.

Hoping it’s better than all my others.


-Marshmello and Bastille/Happier-

We Gon’ Party Like It’s Your Birthday And You Know We Don’t Give A Fuck It’s Not Your Birthday!

Yesterday was my birthday.

I feel like that’s all that needs to be said. Since my day was as lame as that sentence.

I “celebrated” 31 years of life by just making it through the day.

No cake.

No gifts.

No flowers.

No nothing.

No one even told me Happy Birthday to my face until I lost my temper with little E over something petty at night and raised my voice (which I hardly do), and so I had to apologize to him. I explained that even though it wasn’t an excuse, I was feeling frustrated that it was my birthday and I had had a bad day, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on him. So that made him cry and then it made me cry and that made me feel even more shitty. All because I was feeling sorry for myself.

So I called him over and gave him a hug and he explained that he felt bad for not saying Happy Birthday and I told him I wasn’t mad at him at all, I was just pouting. So we hugged and that was my one “Happy Birthday” all day.

It’s stupid and pathetic, and normally I don’t make a big deal about my birthday anyways, but this year I thought it might be different.

It wasn’t.

And the reality of that hurt more than anything I could imagine.


-50 Cent/In Da Club-

Give Your All To Me I’ll Give My All To You Your My End And My Beginning Even When I Lose I’m Winning

You know what they say, picture or it didn’t happen 😏.

I meant to post yesterday, but just ended up being so busy with life that, well, here I am.

I did originally by the flowers for myself, as promised but since yesterday was Z’s birthday I decided to gift them to her by the time I got home. She was so excited but not as thrilled as she was when she opened her little kids makeup kit! I let her do her own as well as mine and needless to say we both looked like clowns by the end of it.

But I decided to give her the roses as more of a…lesson? Nah not really a lesson, but I want her to feel like she should have high expectations from people and that she deserves special things especially on days like her birthday.

When I was young I envisioned my husband taking our daughters out on dates while they are young, to teach them what they should expect and show them what it’s like to be treated respectfully by a man. To show them what they deserve, and so they can know what is good vs. crappy date behavior. Now, since Z’s dad is not around to do that, I still think it’s important for her to know, and also something for Little E to learn, how to treat a woman. So I gifted the flowers to her.

I heard a quote a few months back that I’m going to slaughter, but it was roughly like this;

“Don’t teach little girls that when a boy teases/bullies her it’s because he likes her, because then she’ll grow to learn that being bullied is the definition of love.”

This stood out to me like WOW! It made a lot of sense. Probably to me more than some of you, but it definitely was something I wanted to incorporate into my family. First to teach Z that love is love. Not teasing and bullying and name calling etc, and therefore she should never accept that from any man or woman for that matter. And next to show Little E more positive ways to express his emotions when he does start to have feelings for someone.

Anyways, keeping it super short and simple for today. If anyone knows the actual quote I’m trying (and probably failing miserably) to refer to, give me a shout.


-John Legend/All Of Me-

Happy Birthday To You Happy Birthday Dear Little E, Happy Birthday To You.

Today is Little E’s 7th birthday. And I have so many things I’ve been wanting to post about, but decided to write about the day he was born. Because that’s a story of its own!

My pregnancy with Little E went great. Absolutely no morning sickness, none of the uncomfortable sleeping at night, just a tiny bit of heartburn near the end which I’m pretty sure can be attributed to all the hair he was born with. I’m very lucky to have had such a good pregnancy because E was no support. Throughout the 9 months, he would often suggest that the baby was in fact not his, and that the night of my failed housewarming ( https://shewassetfree.wordpress.com/2017/04/12/house-warming-it-was-cold-as-fuck/) I had slept with S, and therefore who knows how many other men. As you can imagine this was difficult to deal with while pregnant, and I didn’t feel very supported, so it was nice to at least feel like the baby was working with me.

The only thing that really changed for me was that I craved steak like nobody’s business. I could eat steak for breakfast, lunch, dinner and still want more, until some blood work revealed that it was amazing I was still up and walking since my iron was SO depleted. Once I got on some iron supplements, the cravings slowed and then the only that bothered me was smell.

EVERYTHING stunk to me. Especially E. He would get home from work, I’d have to ask him to shower. He’d come home from rugby practice, where he just showered, and I’d make him do it again. Before we left anywhere, I’d ask him to reapply deodorant, or shower. I know he didn’t actually stink anymore than before, but to me? Oh god the smell was awful. At one point we went to my parents for supper and I actually apologized to my mom for how E smelled and she’s like ‘honey, he doesn’t smell, it’s your nose/hormones’ … didn’t matter to me, I still needed him to shower 3x a day if not more.

So, anyways as we neared, and then passed Little E’s due date, I found myself doing all the preparations for the baby. E didn’t put together one baby item. He didn’t purchase one particle of clothing for our first child. He was barely interested in conversations about the name even. Except of course to throw in the lies about the middle name “tradition” and confuse the shit outta everything. But as far as first names go, it was basically up to me, which I’m so grateful for! At least now I don’t have to say my kids names every day and have regrets about them. I picked them both out and love them thoroughly.

Since apparently my womb is so comfortable, Little E stayed 10 days past his due date and I had to have an appointment to be induced. E decided he didn’t want to come with me, so I drove myself to the hospital. He basically said let him know how it goes and if anything happens, he would come later.

So I was on my own. 22 years old. About to give birth to my first child. And my husband chose work over supporting me.

I went through the process and stayed for about an hour when the nurse came to check me out and said there was no signs of labor so I could head home for now, but to come back if anything changes. So I drove myself home. I had some slight back pain but since this was my first time, I kept waiting for ‘contractions’ and yet had no idea what they would feel like. My back pain kept getting worse and I had no way of relieving it, so I took a shower. E was home from work by the time I got out of the shower but my back was in so much pain all I could do was sit on my towel on my bed. This ended up being probably the best thing for me, since while I was still on the towel, my water broke and I finally clued in that my back pain was actually contractions. #idiot
I told E we had to go now, and his response was that I had to wait since he needed to eat since he just got him from work and was hungry. So while E did whatever he did in the kitchen, I got myself dressed and hauled my hospital bag out to the car, all while in the beginning stages of labor.
E finally moseyed his way to the car and we went to the hospital where I was admitted ASAP.

My mom met us at the hospital since at this point I knew E was going to be probably not too much help and to be honest I was scared and needed someone to actually be there as a support. Most women have their husbands for support, but well, I had E soooo, mom was like my plus one.

My mom came into the room and then E left! I was like what the? And he told us that he didn’t think he was going to stay in the room because where he’s from the men don’t stay, it’s more of a woman’s thing. I was like you get your ass in this room right now! You got me into this! You are going to help me through it! I don’t care if you just stand there silently or even faint! You stay!
So he did, although he just stood there quietly, he stayed in the room.

Meanwhile, because everything was happening so quickly, my room was buzzing with people. My maid of honor from my wedding is actually a labour and delivery nurse and was working that night, which was the only thing keeping me sane. She tried to make sure I had the best Dr. and nurses and when the actual delivery came she was right there helping out too.

I didn’t have a big ‘delivery plan’. I never went to prenatal/Lamaze classes  I knew I was all for the drugs though. I mean if I can do this pain-free, then load me up. So they started with the laughing gas (which did nothing to help) while my MOH/nurse tracked down an anesthesiologist. The anesthesiologist came and did his poke, but for some reason, the epidural didn’t work either, and this baby was coming NOW.

I remember the Dr doing that dumb counting thing, like for your breathing, and everyone’s saying oh you’re doing great, good job, keep going, and I just snapped. I yelled ‘SHUT UP’ at everyone. In my mind I just wanted quite so I could focus on my own thought in peace, plus their words were doing nothing to help so I just wanted silence. After I yelled though I felt bad so I kept apologizing, and trying to explain how I just needed quite, and everyone’s like no it’s ok, you can yell all you want.

So, the pushing is going on and there’s so much happening in my room with me and E and my mom and about 6-8 staff (I don’t even know for sure) because something is going wrong…. as I’m pushing, the baby gets stuck. So my MOH/nurse gets a stepping stool and stands on it, holds her arms out like she’s about to perform CPR and then literally JUMPS off the stool and pushes onto my belly to push Little E out. Who let me tell you, WAS NOT LITTLE!

Little E was 9lbs 7ozs and a short little sucker. He looked like a sumo wrestler no lie. A cute sumo wrestler. The Dr who delivered him felt the need to comment saying ‘Oh if I had known he was this big, I would’ve done a C-section’. Oh thank you for that. Thanks for saying that NOW! When there’s no going back. Thanks for talking about the huge new life I just pushed through my vagina while you use a dozen plus stitches to close me up. Yeah, thanks. Real professional.

But, aside from having my genitalia ripped open, the drugs not working, and E not being interested at all in being there…

It was the most beautiful day of my life. No I didn’t cry. But that’s because I was very broken at the time. I did cherish it though. I remember Little E had no problem starting to nurse and the feeling of having a new life, a human, so small yet fully functioning, look into your eyes while feeding off of the life you bring it? Priceless.

I stayed up all night just watching him. Making sure he was ok. Changing diapers that didn’t need to be changed, but just to do it. Waking up E so he could bring me the baby in my bed. Holding him. Touching him. Stroking his hair. Looking into his eyes. Singing to him. Just loving him. And I would do it all again.
Everything I’ve been through with E, I would do again just to have the amazing experience of Little E’s life it has brought me.

7 years ago today.


-Patty Hill&Mildred Hill/Happy Birthday-