If You Find There The Meaning Of What Happiness Is Then A New Life Will Begin

I got a cat.

If you knew me before, you’d think wtf C. You hate animals. Which is exactly what my older sisters response was when I posted about him on Instagram. But the thing is, people can change. People can grow. People can realize that maybe the circumstances under which they were living their lives previously were not ones which they chose themselves. So people can evolve to recreate their own more suitable environment in which they will thrive.

Me. I’m people.

And in this case I was at the point of such loneliness that I decided that I would overcome my fear of animals, yes I said fear, and adopt a cat. You see by this point in my life, every circumstance and previous interaction had built up not only a dislike of cats and dogs, but a small fear. They bite. They scratch. They were just an overall nuisance in my mind.  And to be honest they would mess up my very organized life. Potential poop everywhere. Extra expense. Hair. The list could on and on. Not to mention the most important fact being, I am supposedly allergic to fur and feathers. At least I was back in the day.  This was of course found out at a young age when I went for a horseback ride at my great-uncles farm for 0.02 seconds and had to be pulled off the horse and thrown in the shower to wash off the horse hair as my mom called the ambulance. The result are hazy to me since I remember mostly not breathing, and flaring up like the GOODYEAR blimp as far as the rash went. But after a series of allergy tests soon after, it was determined that animals were not in my future thanks to allergies to fur and feathers and the dander found in them. So we said goodbye to the cat and bird we currently had and miraculously my life long eczema I’d been living with started to get better. Yeah… you’d think my parents would’ve considered that possibility sooner.

Anyways, that’s probably another reason I don’t really like animals. We’ve been enemies so to speak from the start.

But here I am. Almost 32 years old and finding out that yep. I want to add another dimension to my life. So I haven’t had an allergic reaction in a long time. A bunch of my friends have dogs and I’m at their houses all the time. Granted I’m not letting the dogs lick my face or anything (ew on so many levels) but I’m not ending up at the hospital in any case. We house sat for our friends a while back while they went to Zambia and they had the 3 cats. We fed them and did the poop duty, and I was fine. So I’ve come to think at this point in my life I’m pretty sure I can’t use the allergy excuse anymore. I’m thinking I’ve outgrown it.

So, since I’ve moved to Kelowna, I’ve been considering a pet. I know at this point in our life we don’t have the time to invest in a dog. The walking everyday and all that. The kids are in school and I’m at work and I’m NOT willing to have accidents in the house from a puppy. So I’ve been browsing the SPCA site every once in while, just to see what was there, but not telling the kids. Then last week I saw him. His name was Baxter, and he is a 14 years old domestic long haired (I may or may not have choose him based on how well he would match my house, I’ll never tell). Yes, that’s old for a cat. Which I’m fine with. I’m not ready to make a 15+ year commitment to something if I don’t even know weather or not I like being a cat mama yet. The day I saw him I went to the shelter for the first time in my adult life with the sole purpose to pet a cat. He was super chill and laid there and let me stroke him. I’ll be honest, I was probably more scared of him than he was of me, just based on…. well nothing at all. I just was. Because of my body’s past reactions to animals. Because of avoiding them in the past. Because of the potential of getting scratched or bit or anything.  Just because I let fear grow over time with my avoidance.

But I put my big girl pants on and filled out the paperwork and took him home that day anyway.

I picked up the kids from daycare and we went to the local pet store to get all the supplies we needed, which was everything since this was unplanned, and went home.

We have renamed him and thankfully our naming skills have greatly improved since fish one and fish two. We finally settled on Benjamin Maxwell (insert our last name here) the Fourth. Or Benji for short.

He spent the first day in my bathroom since after my extensive Google research I found they need their own space after a move and to calm their nerves. The kids were disappointed that he didn’t want to play with them right away. Oh who am I kidding, they were disappointed I didn’t get a dog. Little E even went so far as to mention that I made a big decision without a family meeting first (fair point, but too bad), but he was happy with the result.

How do I feel now? A week into it?

The first little bit was rough I’ll be honest. After the first night I let him out of the bathroom obviously, and he made his way straight under my bed where he’s spent most of his days since. His nights? OMG. At first, he would just go eat, drink and poop then head back under the bed. So I would wake up to every sound he made since I’m a very light sleeper and he would pause his eating or drinking if I woke up and we would both freeze. I didn’t want to disturb him and he… well I couldn’t tell you what he was thinking. But after a few minutes he would continue. This would happen ALL throughout the night. So needless to say I didn’t sleep very well for the first 2-3 nights.

He also would avoid the kids at all costs. Which was sad since all they want to do is play with him. But slowly he’s coming around and now the last few nights he’s been up on bed throughout the night meowing at me to pet him and letting me brush him and purring non-stop.

Last night he FINALLY let the kids both pet him for a bit while I was reading to them. We started reading the Chronicles of Narnia as a family and Benjamin decided to join us. I promise you it made Z’s week.

So, yes. I’m glad we got him. He’s a very calm and quite cat. There’s been no scratching or biting. No poop where there shouldn’t be. Yes there’s a ton of hair everywhere, but he’s worth it. Because as I sat in bed last night with him snuggled up to me, I realized this unfortunate thought.

This is the most simple and long-standing, healthiest relationship I’ve ever had with a male. He has met more of my needs than any man ever has over the course of seven day without draining anything from me in the process.  He hasn’t requested anything from me. He hadn’t left me feeling like shit. He hasn’t frustrated me. He’s made me smile. He’s given me affection. He’s kept me warm at night.

I needed this a long time ago, so I’m glad I got over my fears and did this for myself. Now I’m one less lonely girl.


-CATS/The Moments Of Happiness-

Advertisements

Shawty Said The Ni**a That She With Ain’t Shit / Call Me So I Can Come And Prove It To You

So bar boy came over again. Two weekends in a row. And you know what. It was nice. Really nice. His dick is still too big and that part is annoying, but the part of having someone in my bed holding me throughout the night and waking up to morning sex and the intimacy part where he is so considerate of what I need and how I respond to his touch… that part is what I’ve been missing for too long. Just good old fashion guy with girl beauty. In bed talking and touching and being with someone. I need that in my life so much. My love language is definitely touch and feel and to be alone for so long has been very draining on me on such a deep level. I thought I’d be ok just having my one night stands and getting what I needed that way, but that was ultimately more draining than fulfilling and probably let me worse off than before.

So I got in touch with army guy (I know I know to many guys) from a few summers back who I never actually slept with but for some reason we got along fairly well. At least well enough that I didn’t sleep with him (because our conversations were so good) that I told him straight up that I was in love with K and there was no way we’d end up together. I know I’m so messed up, if I have feelings for a guy I don’t sleep with them? I’m backwards. So anyways army guy and I have a 5 minute chat every 4-5 months just to keep in touch and so I asked him his opinion on the following since he’s a guy I can just be honest with.

How do you tell a dude his dick is to big, but you still wanna keep him around for everything else? C he said, if you tell a guy that, he’s not going to be offended, but he’s not going to want to come just to hold you and stroke your hair. You gotta learn how to take a dick.

Annnnnnd yet another reason I never slept with him, our conversations were honest, but he was an ass. Ok. For starters. I can take hella dick. It’s when it feels like it’s gonna break a rib or trying to give you CPR and restart your heart with each thrust that I have no interest in it anymore. I like sex to be pleasurable, not feel like I have to wiggle away each time he humps me because I’m feeling like it’s hitting a brick wall inside and going to break me.

The thing is, I don’t want to fault bar boy for being so well endowed and sweet. Like he texts me everyday to say good morning and ask me how I’m doing on top of the caring vibe I got from him while he was around. Don’t worry I’m not catching feelings. Like I have zero interest in this guy long term. He already told me he’s only in town until December, which is probably why I felt comfortable enough to have him around in the first place. I knew there were boundaries from the get go. I knew it wouldn’t have a catch to turn serious, so I felt safe. I told you I’m broke 🤷🏻‍♀️

I’m not interested in getting attached to anyone anymore. I’ve been through enough heartache, but a girls gotta get her bed rocked WAY more often than I have been and as much as I fooled around with my toys every so often, it’s not the same for me and I don’t get the same enjoyment out of them as I do real sex. I like to be touched. I like to be tasted. I like to be pushed past my limits and I can’t do that to myself. I like to be kissed and held. Oh my god I like to be kissed. And held.

So here’s my lame dilemma. Do I risk telling him his dick is uncomfortably large, and have him stay away, losing out on the only enjoyable male companionship I’ve had in over a year? Or possibly yes I tell him and he decides that for the next few months he’d rather want my company with no sex but still everything else. Do you think he’d still stroke my hair until I fell asleep? Do you think he would sleep over and not expect sex. Or should I just keep it as is and awkwardly wiggle away each time he shoves his massively huge cock in my apparently small tight pussy, in order to keep the other benefits until December?

Like I said, it’s a lame dilemma, but a choice I need to make nonetheless.

So blogging word… recommendations?


-Lil Wayne/Lollipop-

When The Working Day Is Done Oh Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

I went out Friday night. For the first time since my work Christmas party, I went out.

I asked a girlfriend here for a deeply needed girls night and dancing and even though she said she didn’t dance (everyone dances) she agreed to go. I asked her for her advice on where the best places in town were, since I’ve only been to one since moving here. She gave a couple of options and after researching them, yep I googled them to get a read on the vibes in the clubs… all three of them lol, we finally decided on the country bar. Country music is my least favourite. It’s not my style, not as fun to dance to, normally doesn’t provide an ideal environment for my type of men if you catch my drift, but I understood that she was more comfortable there, and I’m pretty easy going. I was just grateful to be getting out so the country bar it was.

I found a sitter through the daycare. Turns out one of the teachers there lives in our park so it was pretty convenient. I realized on Friday that I really don’t have anything appropriate to wear since I never go out (second time in a year) especially to a country bar, but I managed to pull something decent together.

My girlfriend and I did the whole pre-drink while getting ready and then taxied to the bar to watch what was supposed to be a live music competition around 9. Well it turns out the post we saw on Instagram was wrong and the competition was from 6-8, so by the time we got there it was over and the place had about 20 people in it.

H, had repeatedly told me it was one of the best places in the city to go to, and I’m just trusting her, but here we get there and it’s dead. The only thing happening is some square dancing lessons. So we grab a few drinks and literally just try and look half cool while there’s nothing to do. But slowly the bar starts to fill up and thankfully I find out it’s flashback Friday so they aren’t playing purely country music all night.

About, oh I don’t know 6-7 drinks in I finally convince H to join me on the dance floor and the night gets going around 11.

Honestly. It felt so good to just dance. I love dancing. And to just let it out and have fun with no worries for a few hours…. I needed it. H wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t dance, but she swayed in good faith. It was cool though. Drunk people flocked around and we had fun with everyone. In a situation like that, when I’m on the dance floor, I don’t just stand there lol. I dance with anyone and everyone.

I may have taken it a bit to far when we went outside to cool off and started making out with a guy though 🤔. I just felt bad for H. I was having fun, but she’s married and just kinda stood there quietly. So it was only a few minutes and I walked away. I mean I came with a friend I can’t desert her for a dick right? Anyways she was like go back! Have fun! But I felt bad.

Needless to say, we danced the night away instead. Well I did. H was such a good sport and leaned side to side while I let loose. It was fun, it was what I needed. And I’ll probably do it more often, although not the country bar.

Also, I have this dude calling and texting nonstop since then. He called me 3 times THAT NIGHT, after I left. Not sure where to go from here. I mean he’s pretty cute, and has been legitimately nice, soooo, I’ll keep you in the know.

It was a long overdue night out. And I was so hungover the next day it was ridiculous. But worth it. Sometimes, it’s worth it.

-Cyndi Lauper /Girls Just Wanna Have Fun-

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-

Here We Are Now, Entertain Us I Feel Stupid And Contagious

So it’s happening.

Little E is growing up, and I can tell by his less than pleasurable aroma that has been filling the house lately.

Yesterday we went to buy his first stick of deodorant. Hand to my heart we were in the pit stick aisle for no less than 10 minutes smelling every different kind while he choose his first one. Our time was doubled since each time he smelt one, Z had to have her chance to smell as well. He finally narrowed it down to two. Axe – Swagger (please no, please no) and Old Spice – Tundra. Old Spice ended up being the winner by a hair based solely on the fact that he could open and close the lid easier. I told him I wasn’t coming into the bathroom each morning to open his antiperspirant for him. I figured part of growing up and using your own deoderant should come with being able to open it yourself lol.

Anyways, he finally choose his “signature scent” and held it all the way throughout the rest of the shopping trip. Apparently the cart wasn’t safe enough for his new found piece of adulthood. I let him go through the self check out himself, although I paid for it, because he obviously isn’t toting around money for personal hygiene at this age, and he carried it like his life depended on it to the car. Little does he know how much his social life might!

As soon as we got into the car he asked to put some one and I recommended that he go home and showered first and then put it on a clean body. I had to explain that even though it smells great, it’s different than soap and he will still need to shower regularly. Well this conversation must’ve fell on deaf ears since later, after I had showered and the kids were playing after dinner, I asked him if he had showered yet. Here he is still in the same clothes and dry ashy skin, yet he has the 8 year old nerve to go ahead and say straight to my face “Yep, smell me” and shove his arm pit in my face.

Like dude. First off, nope. I never want to smell you, thanks but no thanks. But on passing yep, I did catch a whiff of Old Spice Tundra mixed with B.O. so thanks for that Little E. Now FYI just for future reference, rolling on a little deodorant does not amount to bathing. You can’t fool me. He’s adamant that he showered. I know that he didn’t. His dry skin hasn’t seen water in days. So I’m like child, how about you just go now, before this gets to real for you and you get nose deep in shit from me, and take this opportunity I’m giving you to have a REAL shower with soap and scrubbing head to toe. Lotion up when your done, and THEN roll out that fresh pit stick. The world will be a better place because of it.

So he walks out 5 minutes later, damp and REEKING of Old Spice. Felt like I just walked through a collage locker room, I was tryna catch my breath so hard. But hey. He was clean, and not smelling the least bit like body odour. So good for him.

Although I’m trying to decide if this was a win/win situation?


– Nirvana / Smells Like Teen Spirit –