Let’s just start out by saying this. I’m not 100% percent bitter, only about 83%. And not at all moms. Just 31% of them. But a title called “Why I’m 83% Bitter at 31% of Moms” gave my math phobic self severe heart palpitations.
One of my favourite bloggers once said “everyone has something”, a statement referring to the idea that each person is going through their own battle- a notion that has really hit home with me in the last few months. Bloggers with children are no exception. I read a lot of blogs of women in their 30′s and …READ MORE
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
It’s Tuesday right now.
Of course, you are reading this on a Wednesday. Or, if you are like me (and hate google reader), you are reading this 2 months from now on a lovely March day while preparing your liver for St. Patricks Day and stomach assaulting *Irish carbombs.
Either way. I’m writing this yesterday. (That sentence makes little sense but also blew my mind.)
So, the reason why I’m writing this a day before and using the romantic ability to plan a later publish date is on the day you read this I’m going to be in the hospital. …READ MORE
Let me start with this: when I heard that there was going to be a HARRY POTTER WORLD opening up in Florida, the only question in my head was when I would be going, not if it was reasonable for a 28 year old to round up her friends and trek to the tip of another country to partake in a magical world, based on books for pre-teens.
In short, I’m a fan.
But not like, a crazy one. I don’t have Harry’s name tattooed on my body.
So. There was a lot of people. It was like… visiting …READ MORE
One of the best reasons to have a blog (other than the free swag- I’m STILL WAITING FOR GAP TO START THROWING PARTIES FOR CANADIAN BLOGGERS- I’M JUST SAYING), is that it’s easy to see what you were doing one week ago, or one month ago or one year ago. You can simply just click in the archives and you will find your past feelings and thoughts and anecdotes perfectly preserved. You can hit a particular month and find out what was breaking your heart, how drunk you got on cheap wine at your friends party, what social causes were …READ MORE
I was thinking tonight about how I don’t know how to swim. I’ve always felt like this was a handicap, something that prevented me from living a life of glamorous weekend getaways, cuddling with Phelps abs (not his face, just his abs), fully appreciating the cuteness that is showcased every spring in the swimwear section of J.Crew. I’ve always seen it as a horrible flaw- yet one I’m too scared to overcome.
I’ve never experienced cancer like I am right now. I’ve never had a family member or friend get diagnosed, I’ve never felt engulfed like I do now. Submerged …READ MORE
I know people who don’t understand blogging. Some of them, happen to be my favourite people in the world. Sure, they get the idea of sharing your thoughts, but many of my dearest and closest friends struggle to understand what a blogging community is and why it’s something I adore. I mention blogging or 20sb in casual conversations and I can see them trying to fully grasp the importance of this world to me but I know the connection hasn’t been made.
To be fair, I’ve never been really good at explaining why I do adore the community and the …READ MORE
They didn’t tell you how fun blogging could be. How excited you would be when you got your first comment, when you saw your name on someone’s blogroll, when you plucked out a handful of words from the vast English language to make sentence you were proud to write. A sentence that you would re-read because you loved it so much, a sentence that would ring in your head and roll off your tongue like poetry. No, they didn’t tell you that.
They didn’t tell you about the community. My word, the community. The people you would meet, the friends …READ MORE
I’m sitting here in my classroom- one that was so ugly when I first met it, I almost cried. It was a thousand shades of beige with ripped construction paper and borders that didn’t quite meet around bulletin boards. It had dirty walls, smeared windows and it smelled like my grandmother’s basement. It had torn posters haphazardly dangling from the last cold remnants of sticky tack, a small collection of tattered books housed in a dirty plastic bin and 10 lonely desks stood in the center of the room.
I look around now. I have brightly colored material stretched over …READ MORE