oh canada.

as the sun goes down on your special day and all the little tattooed faces get washed off , flags tucked away for next year and back yards are cleaned up from epic family gatherings, i sit here and think how lucky we are oh canada the great, to live within your borders and i just wanted to say thanks for a few things…

like making me feel safe at night,

being able to speak whatever language i desire and say what ever comes to mind without judgment,

for having some of the cleanest water in the world (out of my tap!),

being loved across the globe because we flash your name around,

for your gorgeous beaches, lakes and mountains, with skylines that we (mostly) take for granted,

being able to afford a doctors visit

and drinking beer at 19,

i will even say thanks for your CRAZY amount (almost, all year long) of rain because without  it we wouldn’t value our summers so much!

oh canada, i’m proud to take your name… thank you!

happy birthday.

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mighty sea.

one part of you scares me, the other wants to explore every inch of your mysteries.

where is your end oh mighty sea?

no matter, i shall find it through the blustery wind!

for i am free here, to roam… safely in your cushioned, sandy highways and knee deep bathtubs full of living treasures.

today.

i.

have.

wings.

today.

i.

am.

free.

 

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scribbles from the right side…

the easiest gift for mother’s day…

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my little bull in a china shop

from the moment you were born, shit got real…you were never meant to be “normal”, whatever normal means!?  you my dear are the greatest love and my largest frustration i have ever felt.  yet i wouldn’t change one hair on that very large head that had to be vacuumed out of my vajayjay six years ago!

oh my littlest love…

you are a taurus through and through,

you still drink your “bubba” in my bed every morning,

you are emotional, so dramatic and you love the way food tastes (so does your mom!),

you love to play by yourself yet you say hello to everyone you meet or have met,

you are so kind, loving and a natural leader,

you make a mess like nothing i have EVER seen before,

you are  S T U B B O R N (sigh),

you sing (beautifully),

you imagine wildly,

you thrash around when you sleep (because your brain never, ever stops),

you are intelligent, far beyond your years!

happy 6th birthday my little bull!

xox mum

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tell the truth tuesday!

tell the truth tuesday!

i usually feel the urge to cry when a group of people are singing Oh CANADA (also while reading robert munsch’s LOVE YOU FOREVER or when someone else reads it or at the description of it or from saying the title out loud…crap, i need a tissue from  just typing it! dam that book).

#lifeunscripted

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personally, i’m loving this one…

 

if only i started at your age…the world is your oyster sweet baby girl!

 

#lifeunscripted

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how blessed are they.

i had one amazing vavo’ (grandma) when i was growing up.  sadly my other grandparents past before i got a chance to meet them.

this spring break got me thinking how unbelievably lucky my kids and (us) are to have both sets of grandparents alive and well (knock on wood), not only are they alive and well but they actually want to play, share and (sadly) spoil my children (yay for them, boo for me) when they are near them. this spring break they spent almost the whole trip visiting both sets!

i often hear from people how on earth can you spend so much time with your in-laws or my own family for that matter.  well personally, i think my real reason is (just like why i raised my kids from home) i don’t want to have ANY regrets!  i want my kids to know who their grandparents are and just how much they loved them.  period.

you know what, family is not always easy, you don’t always share the same views, opinions, vegitarian meal options, religious opinions (sorry mom)OR your kids behave like assholes (from all the late nights and sugar overloads)while their around them.  but here’s the thing, we are lucky, we are blessed and there may not be a “next” time as this crazy year has proved to me.  so i will share my time, my space and my life to make that happen whenever possible.

cheers to family. we put the FUN in disfunction (lol), kidding, it’s all pretty normal, i just couldn’t help adding it!

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HOLY CRAP THURSDAY’S

craziest looking duck i’ve ever encountered on a field trip, by far!  one of the mom’s said it looked like a superhero….does now.

lol, clearly i had some “extra” time on my hands yesterday.

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15 things that make disneyland and vegas feel like the same place.

1)     let’s begin with the “happiest place on earth”, some would say… so is vegas!  sure…           till 10 pm, then everyone is a hot freak’n mess, sun stroked, dehydrated, you want to          strip off  those “walking shoes” and go barefoot but you know that some dumb ass             will step on your pinky toe so you opt out and suffer through it and lets not forget               your so unbelievably tired that you have a bad parenting moment(s)…like when you           told  your kids to stop behaving so spoiled & ungrateful …and perhaps you said it                 (loudly), so then this would apply:

“what happens in vegas/disney, stays in vegas/disney.

2)    there’s shit you did there, that you will NEVER, EVER do again! (or perhaps till the            next trip!?)

3)     bad, inappropriate clothing EVERYWHERE!

4)      you feel the need to dress like the natives, so you buy a shirt, hoody (or perhaps a               pair of those mickey ears) looks good, feels good…till you get home.  NEVER                       WORN AGAIN!

5)     you can get your picture taken with a people dressed up as “characters” on the                    ”street”.

6)     your hotel doesn’t matter, it’s for 6 hours of sleep (or less).

7)     long (sometimes really, really long) line ups, unless you have a fastpass (or a                        VIP/club pass in vegas) to get in, or on the fun stuff.

8a)   fountain show, check!

8)     people puking, yuk and check!

9)     most people are “not from here” and  you can’t seem to ever walk in a straight line              (so many people)

10)   your visa is on FIRE by day two.

11)   drinks are served in bad tourist cups that you HAD to buy but can’t pack in your                  luggage so you have to bring it with you on the plane….the kicker, it sits in your                  cupboard for years, untouched (unless it’s the scull mugs from treasure island, then            you will use those on the dock for happy hour in the summer…that’s a for sure).

12)  line ups at the women’s washrooms.  shocker.

13)  there’s a “song” being played nonstop… EVERYWHERE!?

14)  after day three your fawking done!

 15)  you get home and within 24 hours you wish you were there again.

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portuguese women don’t use airplane washrooms!

dam you jaun pablo and your glorious performance in “how to be the worst bachelor in history”, it just had to be on the week i leave for DL.  chris harris didn’t help either with his snake charming tag line of ” MOST DRAMATIC ROSE CEREMONY IN HISTORY” (bullshit), but it sucks me in, yet again!  both of you helped me shit the bed in packing and being in bed by 11, i was not even close… 1am. exhausted.

oh god, the alarm goes off at 4am, i’m so sleepy.  kids are awake and bouncing off the walls asking for the 3rd time in 30 minutes “WHEN ARE WE GOING TO BE IN DISNEYLAND”??.

I NEED A COFFEE.

but lets get serious, i hate pooing on a plane, peeing is bad enough!  even though i’m a squatting over toilet “master”, been trained by a european coach (mom) since the age of 6 (minus that one time drunk in portugal last year, when I was forced to use a porta potty and it didn’t go well).

i avoid airplane washrooms at all costs, this is were i turn totally portuguese… i will hold it.  not to mention…planes appear to be clean, they are creamy /tan in colour by design to hide one thing and one thing only …bodily functions that have escaped the body!

SO, NO COFFEE  till portland, i don’t want to risk it!

5am, were out the door.

states side in ten minutes.

we arrive at the airport, park.

i’m not sure what happened in under a year but the bellingham airport no longer looks like their conducting flights out of a truck container!   looks nice.

good lord, i smell burnt beans brewing.  breathing through my mouth now. this is torture.

boarding the airplane and i’ve got coffee withdrawal.

were on the first plane and amara call’s  mommy shot gun.   g r e a t, i know whats instore…as i thought, she can’t stop talking and it’s LOUD talking (like hearing impaired loud, maybe i’m just that tired or maybe she takes after her uncle dave and needs to be heard ALL THE TIME).  i know that people two rows up can hear her ask if we get food on this flight!   AMARA, PLEASE LOWER YOUR VOICE and no darling, there’s “no real food” on this ONE hour flight.

good lord, i just need a little sleep, i start to dose off.  she is not pleased.  the nudging and talking begins.  i feel like i’m being bullied.  ”please let me sleep”, i plead.  she is relentless.

finally the ladies come around asking if we would like a “tasty treat”?

this is my chance, i can bribe her with my food (cinnamon toast pieces with pretzels in a tiny bag).  i toss it to her as though she is a wild beast and i’m trying to get her off my cent.  she takes the bait.  i sleep for 10 minutes.

arrive in portland.

lunch.

i crack at the sight of starbucks.  it taste so good, i’m weeping… it’s like sex in a cup.

three washroom stops later.

boarding the plane to california.

thank baby jesus, i’ve been blessed me with the odd seat on the flight. greg bragged about his “portable technology” and just like that both of the children “have to sit by dad” and he’s left to manage the offspring.

now by manage, i mean he puts on his sound proof headphones and is played that fawking jewels game on the ipad, leaving me to manage the “loud amara” from across the isle.  she has found a friend (third one in under two hours), the “friend” is sitting right behind her and amara is literally screaming “WE ARE SO HIGH UP, THIS IS SO COOL…DON’T YOU JUST LOVE THIS“!

i’m punching greg, greg is like “WHAT, what do you want”?

take your head phones off,  i sign to him with angry frantic jazz hand motions… pointing to amara…”umm, your daughter is yelling”??

(is anyone else’s husband this painful!)

the dude in the middle sitting beside me has way to much shit going on…business suit jacket, laptop and bag.  he’s a decent size, so really he’s crammed in the middle.  he has a PC (right away i’m judging).  the pc is taking up the entire tray and he orders a coffee (mean fawker…yes, i want another one, loaded with heavy cream and that knotty white sugar but shitting in the plane is not an option, hell i’m not even going to pee on this “bc transit” sky bus!) but that’s not enough for this beastly man…he wants water too,  where the hell is he going to put the water is a mystery,(is what i was thinking) and as “i’m thinking” his coffee has had a fight with that PC and it lost.  the coffee is running down the side of the tray and all down into MY SEAT, its made its way right into the crack of my ass.  yep, can anyone else see the irony here??  my ass is soaked with hot coffee, well played universe, well played.

after it’s all cleaned up, the guy actually orders another coffee.  OMG, seriously dude, shall I pour this one on YOUR ass crack??  i’m a little irritated but really theres worse things in life,  so i spend the rest of the flight sitting on a maxi pad sized wad of cocktail napkins to “absorb” that medium roast marinating in my thong.  fawk you universe, i’m not going into that washroom, no way!   your going to have to try harder then that!  btw, i’m loving the  black pants choice this morning, totally a  ”who gives a shit what others think but we do ” life saver or else people may have suspected diarrhea!

we land in california.

toilet and coffee…in that order please.

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