I Wake Up In The Basement I’m So Hungry/ I Must Be Here Sleepwalking

How to explain the unexplainable.

Sunday night I made homemade spaghetti and meatballs with ceaser salad for dinner and the kids loved it. Everything was all good. So I decided to send the leftovers with them to daycare for lunch the next day. I asked Z to get out 2 containers for me to divide it up for them. She made a big deal about her getting the green lid one and Little E said he wanted the green one too, leaving the blue lid unclaimed (seems like a stupid detail but just wait). I ignored them hoping they would forget about it by the morning, a pick your battle kinda situation and just closed them up and made my salad in my own Tupperware, with a red lid for anyone keeping track. Then I stacked all three in the fridge, thinking nothing more about it.

Skip forward to Monday morning when I tell Little E to get their lunches ready and he says there’s only one spaghetti container in the fridge. I yell from the bathroom to look harder KNOWING I just put it in there last night, three Tupperware one on top of the other. You can’t miss it. A minute later he calls back saying it’s not there.

So I’m thinking he’s just being lazy and not seeing something that’s surely right in front of his nose, and I stomp off to the kitchen prepared to whip the door open and prove him wrong and find the green lidded container that had most likely dropped behind something and go one with our day. I open the fridge. I look. I can’t find it. I LOOOOOOK hard. It’s not there. I look in the freezer. It’s not there. I check kitchen cabinets. Nope. I look in the damn garbage. Nothing. I call Z thinking she might’ve possibly hid it in some secret place to ensure she got the green top. She has no clue. I might’ve gone over board on my interrogation techniques, because seriously wtf could it have gone, but I could tell both the kids had no clue, and as a mom you know if your kid is lying. So I let it go as far as them lying went.

Then, since I was running out of options I even went so far as to check to make sure all the outer doors to our house were locked (lol I know) to make sure no one came into our house in the middle of the night and indulged on my fantastic spaghetti and then left leaving everything else untouched. Locked, obviously. So now I’m left with sleep walking/eating? And I’m like 100% sure it’s not my kids since I hear when they get outta bed to use the washroom. Little E is in a metal bunk bed that makes hella noise when he moves let alone gets in and out. And Z just doesn’t understand how to open a door quietly. So was it me? Like honestly did I eat or hide this stupid container? I’m not sure about anything anymore.

So I give Little E my salad since we’re running out of time and I have to get to work. When we got home I started a mass hunt for this thing. I looked through the fridge thoroughly again, under couch cushions and beds. Double-checked all the cupboards and drawers. Backpacks and purses. Everywhere and anywhere I thought of I searched and I can’t find the stupid Tupperware. And I know I used it because it’s not in the cupboard clean. It’s not in the dishwasher. I remember the kids fighting over it.

So we have some proverbial fairy stealing pasta making me go crazy. But I honestly have no idea what happened to it, and I don’t want to find it in a week or two based on the rotting smell coming out of somewhere.

And if someone in my house IS sleep walking? Well that’s just a whole other level of stress I don’t have patience for.

– Alice Cooper / The Awakening –

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I Wish I Could Be Every Little Thing You Wanted All The Time

Last night Z nearly broke my heart.

I was washing her hair, which could be considered a full time job, although we do it on average once a week if I’ve had enough coffee and sleep, when she made the comment that she doesn’t like her hair and wished it was like all her friends hair, which is in her words ‘smooth’.

Z has the most fantastic Afro, which I’ll admit at first I didn’t at first know the first thing about dealing with for obvious reasons, the main being I never had hair like that so why bother learning right? But over the years as her hair grew I realized it was getting more curly and thick and I would need more insight on how to care for her crowning glory to do it full justice, I started researching what the better quality products would be to use. I learned all about a wash n go and wet plopping and deep conditioning which to be honest were all very helpful for my hair as well since I also have curly hair, although not to the extent of Z’s 3c/4a curls. I learned not to use drug store brands that contain sulphates and other harmful chemicals that will further dry her hair out. I learned how to trim her hair myself to maintain it and get rid of dry, split ends on my own without spending a fortune on a hairdresser. I will admit though that I still cannot plait her hair, but I have learned twist outs and how to lay her edges so I’ll just take that as a win for now. One step at a time. 🤷🏻‍♀️

But when she was upset last night because her hair wasn’t ‘smooth’ like all her friends at school my heart fell into my gut. I can only be so much of a roll model for her in this area. I wear my hair as big, full and curly as possible, because I honestly feel the bigger the better, and I truly think natural hair is better. I’ve straightened my hair maybe once a year since finding out all this information about hair for Z. Little E wears his hair pretty close cut because he just has no interest in keeping a style and prefers it practically shaved, and even when he does grow it out, it’s not as curly as Z’s, it’s more of a thick bigger curl. Her dad maintains a bald head although they don’t see him often (as my regular readers know 3 visits when we went back at Christmas and before that it was February last year). So I guess my point with all these “examples ” is that she has no natural hair role models as far as her hair texture. I’ve shown her on places like instagram woman with beautiful hair like hers and how they wear it even bigger than hers. For reference, her fro averages between 6-10 inches but I don’t fluff it out on the bigger side often. She prefers to style it pushed back with a headband or with a few clips or two pigtail afropuffs. Which is for the best because those are the only ones I can pull off half decently.

Anyways this is a very roundabout way of saying I hurt for her. I want her to be proud of every part of her, but this is a way I can’t directly be a role model for her. Yes, I can wear my hair naturally and I do, but her hair is distinctively different, not only from mine, but from the streets of Kelowna and even where we were before and heck even in a Kenya because of the mix, and others notice. I think it’s fantastic and beautiful and many others do as well. We constantly receive compliments while out about how nice her hair is of which I reminded her last night. I told her that her hair is original and beautiful and she should never want to change who or how she is. I was detangling it and showed her how long it was while wet and stretched out and she was so impressed, since it reaches to her elbows. So after the bath, I did one long braid for her down her back and she was much happier and kept mentioning how long and smooth it looked. Albeit it only lasted about 15 minutes until it was completely dry and shrunk up to her neck but it made her happy in that moment.

I’m just wondering how to move forward from here. I’m WELL aware that my kids should have strong black role models in their life, but if there aren’t any around… I can’t just produce them out of thin air.

My in laws are not an option, her dad is out of the question. The black community in Kelowna is to be honest practically nonexistent (trust me, I’ve looked). But I know that it will be something they need to become the fullest version of themselves they can be.

I guess that’s the most frustrating aspect of this experience. Knowing I can be the best mom I can possibly be. I can make all the healthy lunches and arrange all the play dates and study up on all the hair care and do all the sex talks, to name a few examples, but facts are facts, and facts in my situation is that my kids are half black, there’s no denying that, and I would never want to. And that culture is not something I can provide them, and they desperately need it.

It makes me feel so inadequate.

Knowing no matter what, I’ll never be enough. And I can’t do it on my own.

And what’s worse it that the right people are not offering to help.

***update***

Just stopped at Walmart and saw this ironic and timely display showing Robert Munschs books on display

All had been picked through except the braids book (which Z owns). It’s a book about a girl with hair like Z’s and how she doesn’t like to have it braided since it takes a while and hurts. Etc. But anyways it’s literally just shows how no one in Kelowna has that culture in their life nor is trying to pass it on to future generations here and I’m on my own with my kids. 😑

*Z with morning bed head for reference*


-Dishwalla / Every Little Thing –

I Guess There’s Certain Dreams That You Gotta Keep ‘Cause They Only Know What You Let ‘Em See / They Don’t Care Like I Do Nowhere Like I Do

Google can suck my non-existent dick after they’ve shoved it up their ass.

How’s that for sexual content?

A little while ago I monetized my site with Google Adsense. I figured it’s here, you’re here, Google ad’s are there. Why not connect them all on my site for an opportunity to make a few extra dollars a month? Logical right.

So I spent pretty much a whole Saturday afternoon trying to figure out how to change the coding here on my wordpress site to allow the ads to display semi-decently, something I’m sure would’ve taken someone with experience 3 minutes. But I’m not experienced so I struggled with it and after a few hours persevered.  Then I waited while Google took over a week to approve my site (meanwhile it says it will take only a day or so to do it). I finally emailed once to see what was up, and magically it was approved later that Friday go figure. I watched over that first weekend as nothing happened on Friday, no change on Saturday, but when I woke up on Sunday to check my stats, I saw the most beautiful thing.

You my readers throughout the world had viewed ads enough times to earn me $2.94.

And I cried. Honest to goodness tears of joy. Not even three dollars but it was the most valuable 3 dollars I had ever earned.

I set this site up almost 2 years ago. On a computer that I bought with my own money. I created the name and content with my own brilliance and suffering. The blogs are FILLED with my own spelling and grammar errors, but more importantly my life. I have NO BOSS in this endeavor. It wasn’t a job that paid me. It was my outlet and in some cases my savior.  This brought me joy and relief and satisfaction because it was all mine from start to $2.94 finish. And now, in that $2.94 I saw potential for freedom from much more.

Then a few days after I got an email  from Google stating they would not be allowing ad’s on my site until I complied with their terms. The item in question? Sexual content. The post they were referring to? My sex talk with Little E.

Seriously Google?

You think an educational talk that a mother is sharing with her child is dangerous and offensive sexual content?

I FIND THAT OFFENSIVE!!!

That you think you can sensor me and my parenting. Was I sharing pornographic videos to my child to teach him about the birds and the bees? NO. Did I link those videos here? Even more no! So, for you (Google) to yank my ads and therefore my money making abilities here, because I choose to be a good involved parent, is so much of what’s wrong with the world. You want children to be ignorant? You want parents to be afraid of speaking about these things to their own offspring? Well that’s not me.

I will not pull my post for you. I will not amend it in any way to bend to your sexual content codes. I will continue to teach my son and soon my daughter when she’s old enough (so you can expect another raunchy extreme x-rated sex filled according to Google post then) because I am a good parent, and my kids will be advised, aware, conscious, caring, loving SEXUAL humans.

So keep your money Google.

It wasn’t as valuable as my children’s lives anyways.


-Khalid Ft. Kane Brown/Saturday Nights-

I’m Not Your Gumdrop, ‘Cause I Walk All Alone I Got My Tough, Tough Power And I Call This Body My Home

Real quick personal post…. hahaha which of my posts aren’t personal, this whole blog is my life story lol. But anyways quick is my point. I’ve made a semi dedicated goal (let’s get real, all my goals are half assed, but let’s see where this one gets me) to get more in shape. Not a New Years resolution, but just something I’ve been complaining about for months and I now have the energy to deal with. So I went back to the gym today and got a body scan done before my workout by the trainer for starting reference and the results surprised me.

So in my head I had a good 50 lbs to lose and I’d be ‘happy’ or at least I feel I’d be more/most comfortable with my body. I’m not 100% sure since I’ve never been that kinda weight my whole adult life. Since all my recent fluctuations I’m now officially back up to 225 lbs. Not something I’m proud of but it is what it is. My goal was always the 170-180 range. I’m 5’9 pushing 5’10 and I felt that was reasonable, but wanted to feel it out along the way. I’m in no way now, nor have I ever been considered petite or small framed. I’m big. Which is just fact. Like I have curly hair. I’m fat. Nothing good or bad either way.

Anyways, one of the trainers at the gym did this scan to figure out weight vs. body fat and muscle etc, and the main thing that stood out to me is that right now I’m at 21% body fat which is less than 50 lbs. And my muscle mass was crazy high in comparison. So I thought being a certain weight would change everything, but this scan made me realize how deeply weight is I only a number. If I get down to my ‘goal weight’ there’s a high possibility that I start to deplete muscle mass which I’ve worked hard to gain. So it just led me to discover that yes, I’m overweight but I’m also quite strong, which I knew. It helped me recognize the work I’ve done so far at the gym has been not in vain and also that sometimes numbers on the scale are just that… numbers.

So while I do still want to lose weight, I think it’s more of a focus on body shape and my image of myself as opposed to just reaching an arbitrary number on the scale. I want to be healthier and mainly I want to be happier. Happier when I try on clothes and they fit the way I want them to. I can’t do anything about every god damn pair of jeans being to short, but I can change how my massive muffin top/beer belly hangs over the front. I can’t change how saggy my boobs are after nursing two kids and the fact that ones more saggy than the other, but I can tone up and be able to have more choices in bras in stock since I won’t only fit the absolute largest one. I can’t do anything about my stretch marks, but I can tighten up my tummy so they aren’t stretched to the max still. So as much as I’m not NOT impressed with my body, there ARE things I can do to improve it. I guess I just needed today to show me how far I have come already and the possibility that my goal of seeing a certain weight reflected on the scale was an unhealthy one. Each body is different and I learned my body is far stronger than I give it credit for. And although I’m not gonna win Miss Universe anytime soon ever, I’m also not going to be blown over in the next breeze and I can be counted on to help you move your couch… and I’m not just talking about holding the door open. This chicks got muscles 💪🏽.

-BAUM/This Body-

Callin It Quits Now Baby I’m A Wreck

2019.

Here I am.

Taken me a while to…. not necessarily find the time to do this recap of the last year of my life, but more specifically find the desire to share what I’ve accomplished and overcome as well as my shortcomings in 2018.

So where to start.

I guess the most obvious place would be the easiest.

I moved. I uprooted my family and moved 900 plus kilometres away to resettle once again, for hopefully the last time. So far I’ve enjoyed the new place. The house specifically I’m not a fan of, but the city is good and the lifestyle is good. The kids have made good friends and are enjoying it here. So I count that as a win.

I lost 50 pounds and then regained 25. So obviously that’s not exciting for anyone who’s interested in getting more fit and not as fat, but it is what it is. And since I can’t hide 25 pounds I might as well just say it like it is, and what it is is crappy. I did start the year with a water fast and lost the 4-5 pounds that I gained over the holidays at my parents but now I’m just back to my plus 25. And really just couldn’t care at this point. No ones looking at my body but me and I’m used to it so it’s not at the top of my priority list right now.

I reached over 1600 followers on this blog, for which I’m really thankful for. I don’t write often now because my minds in a messed up place but I try to keep it real and hope that y’all can appreciate that the way I’m thankful you take you time to read about my life. It still blows my mind that anyone would be interested in someone else’s story, but it helps me continue to write knowing there’s a few of you out there who find it interesting enough.

I turned 31. All alone without leaving my house or blowing out a candle or opening a gift and realized birthdays are a sham.

I finally got divorced. Again all alone, but it was a somewhat momentous occasion for me as it had been years in the making and when it finally came it was a weight off. I won sole custody (duh) and it’s just good to know that won’t drag on forever.

I stopped fucking around. To most of you that’s not a big deal, but for me, who used guys and let guys use me, it’s phenomenal. I haven’t had sex in too long and see none on the horizons but I’m somewhat ok with that. It just wasn’t as valuable to me as it used to be, and no longer brought me any joy whatsoever. So I stopped messing around. It’s like a double-edged sword, but I think it’s best for me, both for now and probably long term.

I realized I don’t really like my job. I mean it’s fine and all, but definitely not something I’ll want to do long term. I’ve been doing some soul-searching as to what steps I could take and what direction I want to take my life, but my dilemma right now is that I can’t feasibly get an entry-level job in the genre I’m considering that’s anything close to what I make now. So I’ll just wait it out right now.

Other than that…. I’m still the same old C.

Divorced, overweight, mom of two. Working only to pay the bills, and chilling at night alone.

Do I have goals for the upcoming year? Not in particular. I know me. I know when I set goals, I never achieve them, I have no self-discipline to follow through. But if I end up just doing something in the spur of the moment, then damn I’m so proud of myself instead of being disappointed for not doing something.

2018 in the bag. Whatever that means.

2019…. I’m not looking forward to you, but to be honest I’m not looking forward to anything these days.


-Subflower/ Post Malone & Swae Lee-