Gargantuan

I took an enormous leap yesterday when I sat in a beautiful conference room in Dartmouth that looked across Halifax Harbour and filled out about 30 forms to start my petition for divorce. It was a big step for me. Gargantuan, even.

Divorce. 

It's a word I never wanted to use to describe my actions. I could never have anticipated that I'd be a divorced, single-mum by the time I was 26 but here we are. Congratulations, Universe: you got me good. It knocked the wind out of my sails for the day yesterday, and I'm like a wobbly-legged foal this morning but I'll get there. But I'll admit that I'm a little nervous about what the future holds.

Life probably won't be much different, really. I'll have closure. I'll really be able to move on. I'll be able to be truly happy, and finally put my fears and doubts and "what ifs" to rest. And I hope that it will mean that my ex will be able to move on and have happiness, too.

During this journey, just as I always have I find myself returning to a quote I heard when I was in my early teens. It's a quote that describes my approach to life. It's the quote next to my photo in my yearbook. The quote I share with students who are worried about what will happen after graduation.

You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way. -- E.L. Doctorow

But just for fun, every now and again, I like to turn off my headlights and imagine what's out there in the dark.

XO

September 3

Two years ago today I got married.

Two years ago today, at this exact time, I was running around like a headless chicken, with a tear-stained face trying to be excited while fear gripped at me. Was I about to make a big mistake?

Then, with F.

You know that thing where they tell you to listen to your gut? Yeah. I didn't.

We had a beautiful ceremony and an equally beautiful reception which I spent separated from my new husband, as he was busy "consoling" his mother. I danced to S Club 7 with my best friend, drank a lot of wine and I mingled with family and friends until it was time to pack it all in. I remember vividly the moment we got back to our rental house for the weekend - some of our bridal party opted to stay up and keep the party going. I went to bed, exhausted.

When we separated six months later, I was devastated but things immediately felt right.

I don't even remember what I did last year. But today I'll go to school and I'll go to work. I'll drink about five cups of coffee. I'll call my parents. I'll talk to friends. I'm hoping to get to Home Depot to pick up a couple of little things. Just for the Hell of it, though, I'm going to reflect on the milestones of the last two years.

Such as:

J has seen our son 0 times in 2013. In 2012, the grand total was 6.

I haven't heard from J in more than six months. He hasn't contacted our son since he texted me ON F'S BIRTHDAY to say he was drinking and couldn't come over. He didn't even send a card.

Classy, right?

I'm also going to pick up a bottle of wine tonight and I'm going to toast myself for not going completely crazy. I'm going to raise a glass to F, because he's the driving force behind every single thing I do. I'm going to toast my amazing parents and friends who have supported me, held my hand, offered a shoulder to cry on and given me a healthy dose of reality when needed.

Now (in matching shirts, no less!)

And then, I'm going to climb into my big, beautiful queen size bed with my stuffed sheep and the terrorist kitten and I'm going to sleep.

Alone.

And totally happy.

"Too pretty to be sad..."

... and other things you should never tell someone immediately post-breakup.

I get it. You love your friend. You're upset that someone could hurt her, and you want nothing more than to make her feel better. I've been there, too. I've been the concerned friend, and I've been the heartbroken friend. It's hard to watch someone you care about hurt, so you try your best to cheer her up. Mend her heart. Show her how great she is.

But sometimes the things you say just aren't OK.

Your friend doesn't need to hear what a dirt bag her ex was. She doesn't need to hear how much better off she is, or how she was wasting her time. She needs a friend. She needs someone to hear her out, feed her broken heart ice cream and show up with Kleenex and nail polish for a girls' night in. There are lots of things you can say, but here are a few things you shouldn't say:

"You're too pretty to be sad."

"You're better off without him."

"He was cheating on you, anyway."

"He wasn't good enough for you."

"You can do better."

"There are plenty more fish in the sea."

"Don't waste your tears."

"Just get over him."

Thumbs Up for Thursdays! (August 8)

At the risk of sounding dramatic, this week hasn't exactly been filled with thumbs-ups. It's pretty hard to be sunshine and rainbows immediately post-breakup, but my broken heart hasn't totally gotten in the way of my realizing how blessed my life is.

This Thursday was a bit quieter than the norm. I was lucky enough to send some stuff back to Mom's yesterday (read: laundry), and having her here the last couple of days meant that my toilet was probably clean enough to eat out of (don't worry, I didn't). It wasn't an easy week. Many tears were shed, but things were looking up faster than I could have hoped and I've learned that things are rarely as bad as they seem.

With that said, here are a few things that deserve a Thumbs-Up this week!

1. I'm only half-jobless. This is a bit of a mixed blessing. On the one hand, I have my job temporarily. On the other hand, it's temporary. When I handed in my resignation on Thursday, I didn't think twice about when my position would be filled. Now my life sort of hanging on it. But I've got a broad skillset, so I'll find something somewhere.

2. I have the world's best friends. Seriously. The best. From late-night, lengthy, sob-filled phone calls to the hung over, "OMG-we're-both-crying-what-is-wrong-with-us", I never felt alone. Then there were the tweet-ups, emails, texts and hilarious pictures and the "hey chicky, should I come over with wine?" messages that reminded me just how full my life is.

3. Sick Days. 'Nuff said. Although I'm feeling better, I still needed a day to myself. A day to spend with F. A day to just be. So yesterday, I used one of my sick days at work and it left me feeling totally rejuvenated. Never under estimate the power of a good snuggle and a bubble bath to bring you back to life. Props to F for his mad snuggle-skills.

4. And directly related to sick days, undeniably the greatest blessing of all: I am healthy. I am not facing a serious medical issue, I can get up and go every morning - even on the days I don't want to. So I will. And I'll be thankful every step of the way.

It's amazing what the right perspective can do for you mood.

Perspective

Sometimes, our plans can change in an instant.

It doesn't matter whether we like it or not. It doesn't matter if we had all of our ducks in a row, and our heart set on something. Sometimes, things are out of our control. Not meant to be. Sometimes they are.

It's easy to drown in the sadness and frustration and anger that comes from disappointment and heartache. It's just as easy to float away with elation, forgetting to keep your feet on the ground. Emotions can feel larger than life, they can smother us with their intensity and we can lose our focus.

It's cliché, but true: In every ending, there comes a new beginning.

Though a chapter of my life that has been full of love, happiness and growth has come to an end, I can see another chapter on the horizon. I don't know what it has in store, but I know that it will be wonderful and beautiful and I will make it through the rough patch I currently find myself in.

Wherever you find yourself in your journey today, remember how blessed you are to be in that exact place. Count your blessings. You make a life with what you have, not what you wish you had. Let it go. Happiness, as always, is waiting.

Be strong and stay positive. XO

Thumbs Up for Thursdays! (August 1)

Crazy coconuts, you guys! It's August!!! That means summer is half over. Insert sad face here, amiright? It's also Thursday, meaning it's high time we bust out the positivity as we head into tomorrow's Beautiful Friday and enjoy a long weekend! 

It's not quite 8 am and my day already feels crazy. After my 9-hour work day is finished up, I've got laundry and packing ahead of me! Red and I are off to Moncton, NB to celebrate his good friend's wedding. Thursdays, you guys, Thursdays. UGH. If nothing else, remember that Thursday helps you get to Friday and everybody loves a weekend! 

So, without further ado here's a round-up of what I give Thumbs-Up to this week:

1. Red is home - although I can assure you there was at least one day during the almost-week he's been home that we both wished the other was in Timbuktu, it's really nice to have him back. AND, in spite of a little tiff or twenty, I don't think I'd send him back to the woods. 

2. KIDCATION. I miss little F a lot, but it has been so nice to only get myself ready in the morning. His kidcation is coming to an end, and he'll be back to the grind next week. I think it's important to explain here that it's less that I need or want time away from F, but I needed some time for me. Now that I've had PLENTY of it, I'm ready to get the little rascal back!

3. My long weekend begins tomorrow! I'm out of my second-job office by 2 p.m. tomorrow at the latest and off to Moncton to enjoy a long weekend. BONUS: The last time I spent a night in a hotel, I was legit LIVING in that hotel with my Mom because my apartment had been broken into my the rental company and cleaned out because I'd given notice to move. #Bastards. ANYWAY, staying in a hotel will be a nice treat!

4. The weather has been fantastic this week! I'm all for high heat, but sitting in an office sweating through your carefully chosen outfit is just no fun. The slightly cooler weather and great days have made for comfortable office mornings and easy-to-sleep nights. What's not to love about that?

5. Last night might have been the highlight of my entire week! Red and I went out for dinner and then went downtown to walk and drive around, just enjoying the city. It was great - and the best part was, I got a MASSIVE piece of Cheesecake at Broadway Cheescake.  You guys, yum.

What deserved a Thumbs-Up this week in your lives? Tell me below or on my Facebook Page.

Spitting Images

"He looks just like his father," the man said, smiling at F.

I guess it's a part of our vanity as parents that we long to hear how much our child looks like us, and depending on who you ask, F either looks just like me or just like the sperm donor (which, for the record, is what I choose to call my ex since he doesn't deserve the D or the F word, unless the  D word is douchebag or deadbeat and the F word we're talking about is fucktard - but I digress). I always flutter a bit of pride and happiness when I hear how much he looks like me - lucky kid, right? - but for once I didn't feel a pang of anger when this strange, kind man exclaimed how much F looks like his Dad.

Because this man thought Red was F's Dad. I don't think you could have smacked the smile off of Red's face.

It's funny how people see similarities in the appearances of others. I'm told all the time how much I look like the Carmichaels, and my brother is "the spitting image of his grandfather, Allister" but the truth is that I'm no more related to the Royal Baby than I am to the Carmichaels or the MacInnis clan. Which brings me to thinking, how lucky would the Royal Baby be to look like me? I'm kidding, you guys.

Kind of.

But, I can see how people would say I look like my Mom (the Petersons), or my Carmichael cousins and I can even see how one might liken my brother's thin frame and small face to my late-Papa. I can also see how it might lie in our mannerisms, the way we laugh, the way I tell stories the exact same way every other MacInnis does... with a lot of wind and hopefully a beer or two.

I spent a lot of time believing that family meant something very different than what it does - a surprising thing, given my own family. I believed firmly that F needed his biological dad. Maybe because I didn't have mine. Maybe not. What I've learned is that family is what you make of it. Pets become your children and friends become your sisters and brothers. You love people, and that is what family is.

Thumbs Up for Thursdays (July 18)

In an effort to be just a leeeeetle more appreciative and positive, I've decided to pay more attention to the great things in my life each week and let the not-so-great things roll off my back.

It's no secret that everyone loves a Friday, leaving Thursday to be little more than the day that stands between us and the beginning of our weekend. Thursday is often the busiest day in my week, as it's my day to try to wrap up loose ends at work, laundry day and if I'm heading home to visit my folks, it's also the day I do my packing and clean the apartment from floor to ceiling. Yikes. As I'm sweating profusely and cursing the dog's fur all over my floor, it's much too easy to let the stress of my busy life get to me. 

But, nobody wins that way. It doesn't make my day any better, and it sure as Hell doesn't get the floors cleaned so pumping out a little positivity is especially important. No one likes a Debbie Downer!

So, without further ado, here are the things that deserve a Thumbs-Up this week!

1.  Red, F and I had a great, super low-key weekend. OK, so technically this was partially last week, but we really did have a great time. I feel especially blessed to welcome Red into our little family, and to have him in my life as a friend and partner. 


2.   Accident-free days with F! Potty-training is a big adjustment, on top of adjusting to his daycare and moving to live with me in Halifax. We like to celebrate the little things at my house, and any day where F doesn't miss a trip to the potty is a special day in my eyes. Congratulations F, and a super-big thanks to Red for all his work in making F feel comfortable with the potty. 

This, you guys, is home. Breton Cove, represent!

3.    A fun surprise! On Tuesday, while casually scrolling Twitter I caught glimpse of a tweet from Lost Cod Clothing (follow them @LostCod) featuring this image. As I would quickly learn, the Cabot Trail Ranch belonged to my great uncle. I hauled ass (in my fabulous heels, no less) from Sackville to Lower Water St. where I nabbed a pile of merch with featuring the sign. Surprise gift for my cousin Merrill! Toot toot!

4.    THIS. Free clothes guys, free clothes. In addition to snazzy new clothes (courtesy of an awesome colleague), I scored great deals on new glasses. As a bespectacled babe, and a fashion-obsessed kind of gal, I'm more than a little excited. 

Another week of summer is *almost* behind me, which is pretty hard to believe. Tomorrow night, I'll be heading to Breton Cove to see my folks and hopefully log some time on the beach! 

Don't forget to tune-in tomorrow for another Beautiful Friday, and make sure you like my Facebook Page.

Disposed

Pro tip: Never wash a disposable diaper or pull-up.

Groan.

Bless Red's heart, he often does the laundry for all of us and this weekend is no exception. Since he just got back from another week at training camp, he had a bag-full and though I had done a mid-week load, I had a handful of F's things and a few of my own to throw in the load also. Like the awesome guy he is, Red made the trek downstairs and through the hall to the laundry room in the basement and threw the clothes that I'd given him into the laundry basket.

It wasn't until he came back from switching everything from washer to dryer that I realized what a dumbass I am.

"Do you think there was something in F's pockets?" he asked me, holding out his hand full of white weirdness. "There's this weird gel stuff all over our clothes."

DING. I knew. I knew right away. IDIOT.

I googled what to do while Red went to clean out the wash. Not knowing what the culprit was, he threw the entire wash load into the dryer - hidden diaper and all. Down the stairs I ran to stop the dryer and remove the diaper which, might I add, took forever to find.

We shook out the clothes, took out GOBS of goo, and wiped down both the washer and the dryer. Might I add that we have a shared laundry room? Efffffffffffffff.

Just in case you ever have a slip of the mind and forget to make sure that there's no pull-ups or diapers hidden amongst the clothes, here are a few tips for dealing with the disaster.

1. Use swear words. Seriously. The same way muttering a profanity helps reduce the amount of pain you feel when you stub your toe (I'm not kidding. Read about it here and swear away), it also helps you curb stress and generally makes you feel better. So, drop an F-bomb or thirty and get your rear in gear. You've got work to do, sister.

2. Shake it off. You may choose to have a dance party to further reduce stress. Do it up, just make sure you grab some of those gel pellet-covered clothes and shake the bejeezus out of them. Shake, shake, shake. Shake out the frustration of your own stupidity! You go girl! The more you get off the clothes, the happier you'll be. Sweep that shit up and discard it all. Marvel at how one little pull-up/disposable diaper can hold so much hateful gel-pellet goo.

3. The dryer is your friend. My Google-search told me to throw my clothes in the dryer and let it work its magic. Apparently the gel just dries up and falls off. Don't be surprised if you require a good lint brush after the clothes come out though. The good news: Your clothes are not ruined.

4. Clean out your washing machine. The washing machines in our laundry room are front loading, so it was easier on the back than reaching over but harder to actually clean because it was stuck all over. Use your hands to scoop as much out as possible, then an old cloth to get the remnants. Wipe down well to remove all trace of the gel pellets.

5. Caffeinate. It's necessary. Just accept it.

Hopefully you'll catch the goo/gel-pellets before throwing it in the dryer. I had to wash the dryer out too. Sigh.

Happy Saturday!

Partners (In Crime?)

Titles.

I kind of hate them. Boyfriend. Girlfriend. They seem so packed, and yet sometimes they just don't carry the merit which the person holding said title deserves. I had this realization when, mid-conversation, I struggled to decide how to describe Red. Using his name wouldn't mean anything to the stranger with whom I was speaking. Boyfriend sounded too... um... juvenile. Husband he's not - I have one of those. They're overrated and I'm trying to get rid of him the way one might try to get rid of a Planter's wart.

In a split second decision, I went all willy-nilly and threw "partner" into the mix and felt immediately pretentious and douchebag-y because it just sounded off.

And yet, it's kind of the only way I can describe him in one word. We might be here all day if I get into the way I really might describe him, and I don't want him to stumble upon this post and get all puffed up. I like to keep him on his toes.

Girlfriend

Apparently, I do my best thinking in the bathroom - particularly in the bathtub, but I'm sure I've hit a stroke of genius while sitting on the throne in the past too.

Today, my stroke of genius hit me as I was rubbing coconut oil into my skin and trying to remember what I was going to do after I got dressed (I still don't remember). As I was frantically rushing around, Red ran in with F to help him use the potty, and then the two made their way to the kitchen where Red prepared F's breakfast.

Standing there, I realized why I've had so many crap relationships. I realized why I'm so happy, so in love.

I used to want a boyfriend. I had boyfriends. I was their girlfriend.

I didn't have real relationships. Real relationships aren't husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends. They're made up of partners - and for the first time, I can honestly say that I've got one.

But, every now and again I'll slum it and refer to myself as his girlfriend.

Sing-a-long away

The couple who sings together, stays together…

… or something like that. In the middle of the super-duper crazy week that saw Red and I spend our first stretch of days apart since we started dating and F move from CB to Halifax, get into daycare and Mommy almost go through a window (don’t ask), Red and I cut out some time to talk face-to-screen-face on Skype. After a busy day, it was just nice to talk to him the way I normally would… except that he was 5.5 hours away.

When he took out his guitar and started playing some of our favourite songs, I could feel my heart absolutely melting. And then we both sang. Miles away from eachother, and with the god-awful lag that comes from shitty internet connections we sang a couple of songs we both love. It was really awesome, and possibly totally cheesy but there he was, all adorable smiles and sexy as all get out with this guitar. *sigh*

I know, I know… I’m the luckiest girl ever.

The end of our first week apart is coming to a close, and I’ll see him tomorrow evening. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t completely over the moon with excitement – which makes me worry that I might be a complete wreck when he’s gone for, you know, weeks or months at a time down the road. I know it’s going to be a reality in our relationship – so is the life of a military partner.

I also know that Skype conversations won't always be a possibility in that reality. Maybe long phone calls won't always be in the cards, either. There will be lots of long weeks without him, and weekends will always be too short. Sometimes there won't be weekends.

How do you maintain that closeness when you're miles apart? How do you explain that situation, the dynamic of our relationship, to a toddler? It will be an adventure, and we have a learning curve ahead of us.

 Got suggestions for how we can make the days apart a little easier - or how to keep our relationship fresh? Share 'em below!

Lacy

Feeling pretty is important.

Regardless of whether I’m going to work, school or the grocery store, I like to feel good. While I don’t usually pile on makeup, I’ll throw on some lip gloss or mascara and try to make myself look presentable. I think it’s important to feel good about yourself whenever possible, and while I have more hang ups than an art gallery, I usually get the job done by wearing clothes/jewelry/shoes/whatever that make me feel pretty.

It is for this reason and this reason alone that I own a lot of pretty underwear. Any woman will tell you, pretty underwear make you feel pretty. Unfortunately for my butt, it can also leave you looking absolutely effing hilarious.

Before you hop on your soapbox and lecture me about the dangers of tanning, let me assure you that I’m well aware of the research, findings and warnings that are associated with tanning. But, like wearing my fancy underpants, it makes me feel really good and it also helps me clear up some of the problems I have with my skin – so I do it. ‘Nuff said.

Even when laying (or standing) in a bed at a tanning salon, I absolutely refuse to go nudie. If you’ve ever had a sunburnt ass, you know why. I pack a pair of bikini bottoms in my purse any time I know I’m dropping into the salon across the street from work to make sure I’ve got full-bottom coverage.

Except for last week when I forgot. And then, in a moment of pure brilliance I decided to wear the lacy underwear I happened to be wearing into the tanning bed. Everything was fine and dandy when I got out. I wiped the tanning lotion off, rubbed some moisturizer in and ran across the street to finish my day at work.

My first mistake was using tingle-y lotion. I sat at work for 2 hours with itchy arms and legs, but the itch wore off around quitting time so I figured I was in the clear. The rest of the afternoon went by like any other, but as evening set in I started to get increasingly uncomfortable so I decided to have a bath. My itchy arms, legs, belly and back had long since gone but I had a new, super-annoying itch.

My butt cheeks.

I got undressed for my bath and decided to check myself out, and that’s when I saw it: a delicate, floral lace pattern sunburned onto my otherwise pasty-white ass. Red laughed at me, and the redness stuck around for about 3 days before fading to a light brown.

Lace patterns on my butt are best left to overpriced undergarments, it would appear.

Oh, and that tingly lotion sticks around: just ask Red about how red he was post-snuggles when I forgot I had it on. Oops!

Left

No matter how hard I try, I've realized that I'll never erase the damage that J left from my life.

I foolishly convinced myself a few months ago that I was over thinking about what J put us through. Fat chance. Whether I like it or not, I will live with the hurt that he caused for as far into the future as I can see. Sure, the pain has dulled and sometimes I completely forget about him, but every now and again it pops back up the way your finger stings when you get nail polish remover in a hangnail you'd forgotten you had. Ouch.

I've undeniably been the happiest I've ever been since Red came into our lives. F adores him, and I have to admit that I'm pretty smitten myself. We have fun, and we laugh and my heart nearly bursts when I watch F and Red playing together, or listen to them talking about the solar system, trucks or what they did while I was at work. Maybe it's because I'm so happy with Red that I find my mind wandering back to how unhappy I was a year ago, but it's a place I often find myself revisiting: the place I never want to go back to.

When J and I split up, I selfishly shut down. I won't lie and give you the "I did the best I could" line, because I didn't. I spent my days on the couch or in bed, I spent hours on the phone crying to my Mom or my friends, and I left F to play with his toys while his Mommy felt sorry for herself. When I finally got my shit together, people would offer up their condolences - hoping that they could ease my pain with "better now than later" or "at least you're still young".

When I decided to come back to school, I heard the same lines: "do it now while F is still small, he won't notice as much", or "it'll only get harder from here on out, girl". Just like the day I admitted that one of my biggest fears what that F would be damaged by J's leaving and then my own, I'm bombarded with "F's too young to understand" or "F doesn't even notice that you're gone".

Bull shit.

F is three-years-old. He's not stupid. He's not unaware. He knows damn well that his Mommy is away most of the time, and that shocking reality crashed into me this week.

We were wrapping up a fun time at the pool. F had been laughing and splashing, "swimming" and learning his own limitations while Red and I looked on. In anticipation of a toddler meltdown (leaving the pool is, afterall, a tragedy), I decided to dry off and get dressed to make it easier. I went back into the pool area armed with towels and a Kinder Surprise, and watched as F and Red swam around for a few more minutes. Then Red started walking up the ramp to leave the pool.

"I don't want to go!" F cried, though he slowly followed Red up the ramp.

"Well, I'm going to go," Red told him. "I need to go and get dressed."

F stopped and Red kept walking along the side of the pool, until F started to cry.

"Everyone leaves me. Every body just leaves me."

Heart. Broken.

Earlier in the evening, as we were getting our swimsuits on, a young family with two small children was drying off to leave the pool. F pointed out that the man was a Daddy. Two hours later, he's announcing that everyone leaves him.

F's never really had a Daddy, and while it's not my fault I find myself riddled with guilt over it. Hearing him say "Every body just leaves me" rips the heart right out of my chest. This is what I was afraid of. This is what makes being away from him the hardest.

I tell him all the time how much I love him, and explain the whys and the hows of Mommy going away for school. I promise him that I'll never leave him, and assure him that no matter where we are, he can always find me in his heart. But the fact is that I leave him almost every week, and it's taking a toll on him.

In the last couple of months, Red and F have formed quite a little relationship. F really needed that. He talks about Red all the time, and I couldn't be happier that F finally has that special relationship with a guy. But Red is leaving soon. I haven't quite decided how I'm going to approach that bombshell, or when or even if I want to.

Maybe we'll just have to go along for the ride.

Lessons

Being in a relationship again is kind of weird – but in a good way.

As much as I was really beginning to enjoy hanging out in my sweatpants and being totally disgusting when hidden behind the walls and doors of my apartment, I have to admit that I’m a much bigger fan of having the companionship I've found in Red. It’s such a drastic change from my last relationship that I sometimes find myself overwhelmed with the urge to find a way to go back in time and smack myself upside the head. We just laugh all the time. There’s no nitpicking (except for the occasional, fun pick-at-each-other-sprees we tend to go on – but it’s all in fun, really), and I feel genuinely appreciated every minute that we’re together, and the warm feeling stays with me all day long.

Last night, after consuming far too much food, we laced up our sneakers, put Daisy’s leash on her and hit the pavement for a walk/jog together. I've never done that before. I've never wanted to spend that time with someone, and it’s a little bit overwhelming. I’m not an expert on relationships, but I've had enough of the shitty variety to be assured that I've got a good thing in my life right now. I’m not 100% convinced that I know how to keep a relationship on solid ground, but I think I've learned enough over the past few broken hearts to have a bit of a grasp on this notion.

1. Always think the best of each other. Believe strongly in the good, and doubt the bad.

2. Talk. (Crazy, right?) If you can't talk about it, you have no right doing it - whatever it may be. Sex, love, relationship, whatever. Just talk.

3.Go to bed angry. Go to work angry. Stew, if you must. Have a sip of coffee by yourself, and deal with it when you’re ready. It’s highly unlikely you’re going to solve whatever you’re facing when you’re both overtired, or when you have 15 minutes until you leave for work. Whoever said you should stay up arguing until 3:30 AM, sleep-deprived and frustrated was an idiot. 

4. Don’t complain about your partner to your friends. They don’t love him (or her) the way you do, and they’re less likely to forgive, assuming they ever do. If your friends hate your significant other, it makes your relationship a lot harder. Trust me on this. The same goes for your parents. Need to vent? Talk to his Mom. She'll forgive him. Yours probably won't.

5. Let. Shit. Go. Seriously. Those little things will drive you crazy, so check it where it needs to be and move on whenever possible.

6. Finally (even if a little contradictory to my point here): If it’s that bad, just leave. You’ll both be happier. Life's too short for a shitty relationship. Someone great is waiting. 

I strongly believed for most of my life that being alone was the worst thing in the world. It’s not. Being lonely in a relationship is the worst thing ever. Feeling unfulfilled or unappreciated breaks you down, and it sucks the life and energy from you. My year of singledom was enlightening, occasionally lonely, but it has been and will likely remain to be one of the most educational, fulfilling experiences of my life.

And I can’t wait to see what this next phase brings me.

Happen

I am a planner.

I like to orchestrate things. I always have, from planning out the way my friends and I would play our games as kids to planning (or, ahem, rehearsing) how I want important conversations or interviews to go. It's everything from attempting to plan my outfits to planning my career, my life, and possibly my death (I totally plan to live-tweet it).

For over a week it's been F, Red and I and it's been wonderful. As per usual, I made a solid attempt to plan everything out - from meals to adventures, swimming pool visits to movie nights on the couch. What I didn't plan for was F to get sick. Or for Red to spend most of the weekend laying in bed exhausted from the excitement of chasing a toddler around.

It was an impromtu snugglefest that reminded me that you can't plan for the best things in life. You can't plan the best way to fall in love. You can't plan for those magical, impromtu hugs that seem to grab your heart and soul and warm them up with a squeeze. You can't omit the occassional meltdown and hiccup from your plans, no matter how hard you try.

The beauty of life is that things come as they're meant to, whether we realize it or not. Timing is everything - we just don't have the clock. Blessings and surprises are hiding around every corner, but you'll never see them if you're trying to pencil them in somewhere else.

I didn't plan to fall totally head over heels this spring. I didn't plan on giving up so much of my independence to be a part of something bigger than just me. I hadn't planned on introducing someone so important to F. But, I would have missed out on a lot of I'd been so busily wrapped up in trying to plan it all out.

If there's anything I've learned so far this year, it's this:

Just let it happen.

Full

I am lucky enough to live in a big, bright apartment in a fairly quiet neighbourhood just outside the city. My neighbours are mostly quiet, my building superintendent is lovely and I feel safe and secure inside the unit that I call home. But it’s huge.

Daisy, my loveable Beagle, and I cohabit a spacious two-bedroom apartment. In the run of an average week, I might pop my head into the second bedroom once (twice if I’m cleaning or need something), and I rarely use my 8-seater dining room table at mealtimes, but sit for an hour or two working at my laptop. I park my ass in the exact same spot on my couch every time I sit down to watch television or read. While I love my apartment and the neighbourhood, and even though Daisy is surprisingly good company for a dog who chews expensive shoes and pees on the floor, I often felt so incredibly alone within the walls of my place. Even with all of my furniture set up, paintings on the walls, music turned on and candles lit my apartment never felt cozy. It was just too big. Empty, even.

But, for the last 24 hours, my heart and my home have never felt so full.

After a fantastic weekend with our families in Cape Breton, Red and I packed my car – complete with F, lots of toys and that big-eared thing I call the dog – and we started the trek for Halifax. After arriving at my apartment, the process of settling in began: suitcases unpacked, beds made, laundry put away, groceries bought. Within an hour, my living room floor was peppered with toy cars and trains, crayons and colouring books were strewn across my dining room table and giggles could be heard from one end of the hallway to the other.

My apartment has never felt so small and cozy. 

As I made my coffee this morning, I could hear the gentle breaths from F’s bed, the occasional snort from the dog and the sound of Red rolling over, the sheets rustling around him. Standing alone in the dark I realized that my coffee has never tasted so good and being tired has never felt so rejuvenating. As always, the smallest things have the greatest impact in our day-to-day life.

I know that when F goes back to Chateau Grammy after a week with me, my apartment will feel big and hollow again but my heart will still be overflowing…

…and that crayon may never come off the chairs.

Uncovered

Easter has come and gone in a flash.

It's funny the way we anticipate events and holidays for weeks and weeks in advance. Just think of the craziness surrounding Christmas every year. I spent the last week or two worrying about this weekend - not because I had a lot to get done, but because F was meeting Red. My stress levels grew exponentially as we got closer and closer to the day.

My concern was certainly not that F wouldn't like Red. I knew he would. Red is funny and sweet, and he's a big kid himself most of the time. My concern lay in the fact that I felt there may be a real possibility that F would send Red running in the opposite direction. Don't get me wrong: I love F like there's no tomorrow, and I wouldn't change a single hair on his sweet, little head. But he's too much like me. He's wound so tightly that when he lets go, it's approximately the equivalent of letting 7.4 million bouncy balls (F's favourite) loose in a tunnel. He's often too smart for his own good, plus he has my red-headed temper and bull-headed stubbornness to boot.

In short, the kid is a handful.

But all my worry was for wasted. The boys hit it off right away, and within only a few minutes they were perched on the piano stool making noise music and laughing together. Before I could say "melt", F was telling me that Red was his friend. We're now about to head into a really big week - F will be coming to Halifax with me, and Red will be hanging out with him while I'm at school and work.

Watching F and Red blowing bubbles on the step yesterday afternoon, or seeing Red kiss F's head as they said goodnight at bedtime last night absolutely melted my heart. I couldn't have orchestrated a more perfect weekend if I tried. We enjoyed some quality time with Red's mom and dad, we watched movies and we snuggled a lot.

We're heading into a very big and exciting week, now. In a few short hours, F and I will pick Red up and head to Halifax for a week together. Red and F will hang out (with Daisy, of course) while I'm in school or at work. It's a little nerve-wrecking, but I'm sure it'll be fantastic. I'm packing away my fears while I pack extra big-boy pants for F.

It's hard - and often terrifying - but packing those fears away often helps uncover true happiness and wonderful surprises. What are you waiting for?

Introductions

Having a boyfriend is different than it used to be.

Once upon a time, having a boyfriend meant that I would have to go through the (sometimes) awkward process of introducing him to my family and meeting his. It meant mingling with his friends, while I slowly eased him into being around the wing nuts I call my girls. Now, though, there's a real twist to the whole thing.

I have a tiny, absolutely precious, little toddler heart to look out for.

I'm really lucky in that Red and I have known eachother since the beginning of time. In fact, I don't ever remember not knowing him - it's a different, kind of weird dynamic but I like it. In addition to knowing him forever, we've also always known eachothers families. He's sat in the gear shed at the wharf with my Dad drinking beer after a day of fishing.  I'm not sure if it makes it easier or harder to start a relationship with someone when you know each other's families so well (especially since our Dads are pals) but I do know that this relationship has come easier than probably any that I've ever had in my life.

But I still have to "officially" introduce him to F, and there's just no amount of mental preparation to get me ready for that one. Even though Red has seen F around the wharf and around the community, F will have no idea who he's meeting and they've never spent any time together. It's not really something I ever anticipated doing, introducing my child to a boyfriend, but it's a week away. I'm see-sawing between the excitement of seeing F with Red and dreading it, because F is a handful at the best of times.

I knew dating was going to be a horse of a different colour these days, and I feel pretty damn blessed to have found someone who totally accepts me for who I am and how my life looks, all messy and half upside down sometimes.

I wrote in the past that a Mom doesn't introduce her kid to a guy she's dating unless she really likes him, but the truth is that I won't let F meet someone who I'm not genuinely serious about. I've kind of surprised myself in being serious about someone, but it's a great surprise. 

And I have a sneaking suspicion F is going to love him. I know I do.

Be Happy

I used to believe strongly in the notion of being lucky or unlucky, and I felt that I fell into the lot of "unlucky" in the world. Whenever bad things would happen, I would sum it up to having bad luck and on the occassions that things seemed to be going well, I'd wait anxiously for the bad news to hit me. Kind of like when my stuff went missing or the time I found my car had been backed into.

The truth is that I'm neither lucky nor unlucky. Shitty things happen all the time to all kinds of people but good things do too. It's one of those circle of life things, and I'm really, really hoping that there's some kind of limit to all the nonsense because I'm looking forward to not having grey hair and wrinkles any time soon.

The truth is that my life really is a circus, but then... whose life isn't a circus from time to time? I make monumental messes that need cleaning up, and I trip over my own feet and make an ass of myself pretty regularly but I'm not alone. And things are really only ever as bad as you let them be, but this goes both ways.

You can't be happy if you're not willing to let yourself be happy.

I know this just as sure as I'm sitting here with a ridiculous grin I can't wipe off my face and a great big bowl of half-burnt popcorn. And it's not just my love of popcorn that has me so giddy. A little over a month ago, I decided that it was OK to let someone in. It's OK to peel away the layers and let my guard down. It's OK to be happy. After hanging out with a very handsome redhead a few times, I decided it was time to stop trying to pick him apart and give in. Around the time I made that decision, the ridiculous grin I just eluded to was painted across my face and it's been there ever since.

And I've never been so happy.

It's the feeling of being totally safe and totally vulnerable at the same time; it's being comfortable and completely out my element; it's feeling completely on edge and entirely relaxed and I wouldn't trade it for all the tea in China because it's the best feeling in the world.

When I decided to let go of the fear of getting hurt and the cyncisim that told me I could never be happy, I found happiness in a navy polo shirt offering me a glass of wine (and we all know how I feel about wine). After a week of trying to convince myself that I couldn't be happy, I took my Mom's advice. And, as she sometimes always is, Mom was right.

"It may be today or it may be tomorrow, it might be six months away, but there will come a day when you'll find someone who makes you happy again... but if you keep your blinders on, you'll never be able to see it."

She's a real philosopher, that Deb.

Be happy, stay positive and pour yourself a big glass of wine!

XO,

A