An Open Letter to the Sweatpants that Almost Ruined my Marriage (Eva is right!)

Young woman at home sitting on modern chair in front of window r

You weren’t my usual type, yet I felt drawn to you at first sight. Your allure was undeniable, and before I knew it, my hands were all over you. Inspecting, caressing, and imagining you on me.  At the thought of all the things we’d do together, I made a decision then and there.  You were coming home with me.

$16.99 later, plus the $100.00 worth of additional and inevitable Target purchases, we exited the store and were homeward bound.

I could hardly wait to get out of my restrictive yoga pants and into you.

The sky was the color of you, grey. Not quite fifty shades of grey, but grey nonetheless.

It was the perfect kind of day for the two of us to share some quality couch time together.  I didn’t know it just then, but you were about to become my favorite mistake.

The moment I slid my legs into you, I knew you were a good fit. You felt like home to me—saggy and baggy in all the right places. I’d never felt so comfortable, so accepted. That moment marked the beginning of a love affair so foreign and all-encompassing that I became blinded for days, as to what was going on (or not going on) around me.

We’d become inseparable.

The moment I woke up, I reached for you… Ok, ok- who am I kidding?  We slept together every night.  I just couldn’t bear to part from you (I did shower, though!). It’s just that you felt so good.

I wasn’t ready to admit it, but the truth was: with you in my life, all other things had fallen to the wayside. My husband was away and, to be frank, I wasn’t even missing him.

It wasn’t until day three, that I started to tap into the adverse effects of our time together. We’d “become one” so quickly that I’d, sort of, lost my bearings. You were hindering my productivity and my connection with my husband.  He had called several times but… I was with you, on the couch and … I couldn’t move!  This needed to change but I felt completely helpless to your lure.

I would verbalize my intentions daily, hoping that would give you hints as to what I needed from you. “I am going to be cleaning this afternoon,” I’d announce each morning, feeling hopeful.  But when the evenings rolled around, I’d be no further ahead.  Still optimistic that you were good for more than just one thing, I’d end the day with plans for a better tomorrow. “What a busy morning I’ll be having,” I’d say, willing it to be true.

I’d wanted so much for you to have my back, for you to support me in the things that I needed to do. But you couldn’t do that, could you? You cared more about your own agenda, which was just being with me, on the couch.

Cracks in our union were starting to show.

And, I admit it- the affair was beginning to feel trashy. Dirty, even.

My daughter’s birthday party was the next day, and having indulged myself over the past days with you, I now had tons to get done around the house. So, I ignored your silent pleas and I went out to cut the grass.  I also decided to drain some rainwater off the pool cover, with a pump that would send the water across the front lawn and out onto the street. The decision to combine these two activities would be one that I’d soon regret. In the short term, anyway.

I was only a few laps into my lawn mowing venture, when a cruel twist of fate landed me on my ass. My foot had slipped in the waterlogged grass and somehow, I ended up with wet slicks of dirt on my left knee and on my right ass cheek. I was up in a flash, though, and with an energy level that you’d most certainly disapprove of, my lazy lover.

So, I finished cutting the grass looking like a lopsided Sasquatch.  I then went immediately back inside to do laundry. It was the first load I’d done all week.

And there it was. A forced separation. I felt naked without you as I squeezed into my yoga pants. Yuck. They felt awful. I was eager to get back into you, where I belonged, yet a little part of me knew that a break would do us both some good.

The dinner hour arrived, and then it was bath and bedtime. After that I vacuumed and dusted, hung up streamers, blew up balloons and filled goody bags. I was in motion again, and it felt pretty great. Many hours went by and, I’m sorry to say, you didn’t even cross my mind.

I’d forgotten about you. And, man, did I ever get a lot done!

We spent the rest of the night, and all of the next day, apart. It was a fun party and, if I’m honest, it wouldn’t have felt right having you there. You’re not really classy enough.

Sorry, but it’s the truth.

We were reacquainted later that night, and though it was good to be together again, something felt different. Had the washing machine rinsed away your appeal? It seems our time apart hadn’t made my heart grow fonder.  I didn’t know how or why, but the fact was, the spark just wasn’t there for me anymore.

The honeymoon period was officially over.  Our short-lived love affair had been a case of too much too soon, I’d say.  It’d been good while it lasted but you need to hear this, my dear sweatpants, you’re too needy! You’re also selfish and indulgent and the fact is: I’ve got shit to do! I’ve got a husband, you know. And a family who needs me. I’ve also got work to do and I just don’t have time for you, right now.

I’m sorry it had to come to this. I really am! But, Eva Mendes is right! Sweatpants cause divorce. With you around, there is no question in my mind, that my husband and I were heading for the big D!

So take heed and beware, ladies, sweatpants are more (much more) than just comfy…

This is an altered version of a piece that was originally published on BLUNTmoms.

From Cocktail Girl to Tipsy Squirrel

 

Female bartender is squeezing orange juice into a cocktail glass

With the clarity of hindsight, I’ve been able to sum up (into 6 stages) what almost appears to be a carefully planned journey! But, I’ll admit, this is not the case.  I am more of a follower of whims and instincts than a planner… 

1. My Foundation

My initial attempt to combine studying with cocktail making went down like a Flaming Sambuca, leaving me with a degree in Journal Writing (instead of a Journalism) and a job as a bartender. But, always one to go with the flow, I quickly concocted a plan B! I got a degree in English and Communications followed by a teaching qualification which became my ticket to travel and work.  From Japan to China, (where I met my British hubby) and then on to England (to be with him), I went.  There, he and I sprouted a family: three little ladies, in fact. The first: a creative dreamer, the second: a future engineer and the little one… well let’s just say she has a flare for the precocious.

2. Relocation

After 10 fantastic years in the UK, I felt it was time to head back to my home: Ontario, Canada. I was able to convince my husband that Canada is, in fact, the Promised Land! As in, it promised to put forth all efforts to freeze off the asses of its residents.  But only for 5 months of the year!  I chose to focus more on the beauty of the other seasons and the low crime rate and friendly atmosphere in the town, where we now reside.

3. Story Creation

Once settled back in Canada, I soon found myself putting to use my degree in Journal Writing. I started my little blog: Martinis & Motherhood, in late 2013.  It was there that I wrote my first piece about parenthood and, for me, it seemed very natural (logical even) to pair my tale with a martini.  It crossed my mind that stories + martinis for moms would be a great book idea…

In 2014, I was lucky enough to become part of the BLUNTmoms writing team where I *met* some amazing, funny, and talented women.  One of whom was Tara Wilson, from Don’t Lick the Deck.

 4. Partner Identification

Tara made me laugh with her quick wit and effortless one liners. Realizing that she and I lived in the same town, meant we were soon meeting “in real life” and her humour and clever ways drew me instantly to her.

I sensed that Tara would make a good partner and that together we could bring to life an awesome book of stories and martinis! Her background in Business and Accounting was the perfect match for my lack of knowledge in all things business and number related.

After a few casual meetings, over coffee and cocktails, I dropped my opportunity bomb on Tara. She loved the concept for the book and the idea of working on it together.

5. A New Vocation

It seemed the creation of a book label was the next logical step. Tara’s casual references to “being distracted by squirrels” in her life, due to the effects of her ADHD, coupled with my pre-disposition for martini-making, made Tipsy Squirrel Press the perfect name for our book label.

My 10 year old designed our martini-sipping squirrel logo. Because who needs a graphic designer when you live with a creative dreamer, right?  And that was it, with a logo and plan, we were ready to begin…

6. Collaboration

Martinis & Motherhood: Tales of Wonder, Woe & WTF?! is our first venture as publishers. And it is my hope that the quality of the writing found within its pages, the deliciousness of the martinis, the quirkiness of its cover (because we all judge books by their covers, right?) and my partnership with Tara that will, hopefully, make this book a welcome addition within its genre. And as for our next book? We’ve got a few ideas on the burner! So stay tuned by following us over at: Tipsy Squirrel Press FB

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 UPDATE

7. Celebration

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000038_00067]The book is here and it is being received so well by readers. We are all proud and confident that the journey is just beginning. Have you ordered your copy yet? Click here for more information.

 

 

You’ve Gotta Know When to Fold ’em

SARK

“Always remember to hold on to your dreams, your path and, most importantly, yourself.

For when it comes to love, sure we get lost in it, initially, but we should never settle or accept another person’s insufficient version of it nor should we sacrifice ourselves along the way.

Don’t be hard on yourself or define yourself by mistakes that you make because it’s never too late to get off a detrimental path or to create a new one.”  – Me

If you relate, at all, to my above attempt a words of wisdom, I am over at BLUNTmoms with the story that inspired them.

Click here to read it.

Marriage Isn’t Safe

klimt kiss

My husband says I’ve still “got it” and he laughs at my jokes, or perhaps he’s laughing at me. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. There’s laughter happening here and that can only be a good thing, right?

We also annoy each other. Such is life when a man and a woman decide to shack up and procreate.  In fact, I think it’s part of our “spark.”

Our marriage is hitting the 10 year mark, this June.  We’ve survived (and been blessed) with the addition of 3 little people into our lives. And we continue to co-exist, in general harmony, with these 3 little people. One is even a tween. Just let that sink in for a minute… Continue reading

But First, I’ve Got Towels to Fold…

image
I love my kids.
I love my husband.
And I am grateful for my life.
BUT
sometimes,
the weight of motherhood
and wifehood
and
all that mess
can take me to my breaking point …
BLUNTmoms published one of my posts, last week. Is it a first-world-problem piece? 100%. But it’s also raw and real and in it I share a personal moment of emotional weakness, paralleled with strength in my convictions to remain true to myself. I also throw in a bit of humour because it’s good to laugh, right?

Continue reading

All I See are 50 Shades of Red

50 Shades of Red

So, the new 50 Shades of Grey movie is set to release next month.  Just in time for Valentine’s Day. Will I watch it? Likely. Did I like the books? No.

It’s been over two years since an army of  exhausted women with kids from around the globe mustered up some energy and went buck wild for the EL James’ Trilogy. I’m sure husbands everywhere are looking forward to another surge of action when the film hits cinemas, although ideally it would just go straight to DVD…

I was one of the last to get on the 50 Shades bandwagon and was the first, and only in my crew, to hop the hell off.

The moment the young, drunken Anastasia Steele fell at the feet of the composed and sober Christian Grey, was the moment the judgmental realist in me was awakened.

She’s 21. Let her figure it out for herself, Mr. Grey. Even if that means puking in a bush…

Yet I chose to read on. Continue reading

How to Tame Your Shrew (+ Handy Quiz)

angry big wife with rolling pin screaming at lazy small husband

Hey there husbands! Welcome. I assume you’re on the hunt for some shrew-taming pointers and that, my friend, is exactly what I’m going to share with you. For more on the topic, see: Taming of the Shrew (Or is the Problem You?)

Now, to begin with, you must truly believe that you have the power to turn your shrew into the supportive, happy woman that you long to be with. Just to confirm, I am not referring to an actual rodent-shrew but the human version, defined by Merriam-Webster as: an ill-tempered scolding woman.

Ok, so let’s get to work!

This formula: Happy Wife= Happy Life, is the foundation from which you will build upon. Refer to it when times get tough for there may be some rocky patches along your taming journey.

Now, let’s first determine if you have asshole tendencies, which is an essential step in the shrew-taming process. Continue reading

Taming of the Shrew (Or is the Problem You?)

big angry woman and small man on the field

Under her Thumb and you Wanna Run?

Is your wife bossy, moody and difficult?

Does she make you feel like a bird in a cage by hindering your freedom and standing between you and the things that you want to do?

While you’re chillin’ on the couch, just watching the game and having a few beers, does your wife dampen the vibe with her evil eye?

When you go out with your buddies, do you suffer your wife’s wrath the next day or even worse, does she forbid you to go in the first place?

If you’ve answered yes to any of these questions, you may, in fact, be living with a shrew. Not an actual rodent-shrew but the human version, defined my Merriam-Webster as: an ill-tempered scolding woman.

But, fret not, my friend. I’m here to help you tame your shrew. Continue reading

The MILF (Nomad Mom Diary)

Did you hear that?  No? I’m not surprised because I landed very gracefully while implimenting, yet another, leprechaun kick to the side. Today’s kick has been inspired by my featured post: The MILF!  I am really excited to be sharing a husband story. This always makes me happy.  And I am beyond joyous that today’s story, has been written by Lynn Morrison from The Nomad Mom Diary.  She is one of my most favourite writers in the entire blogosphere and she is here on my blog! Woo hoo (another graceful landing, I’m getting good at this!)

The following tale takes place during a family outing at the local drugstore…

Continue reading