Anchor

The great test results wait!

Day one.

First of all, has NO ONE figured out a way to get results faster?! Really? We can do everything from our phone in a nanosecond but apparently medical test results take a zillion freaking years. /rant

Anywho, I’m trying not to panic & fixate, but I’m so good @ these things! Since I’m gonna do it anyway, I reckoned I’d regale everyone with tales of my thought process through this fantastic week.

I’ve decided the person I most resemble as a fictional character is Jennifer North from Valley of the Dolls (minus the good looks, fame & drug problem). Like Jennifer, I’m a small town girl from a messed up background who just wanted to be @ the top. Much like Jennifer, I’m called a doormat. But also, I sometimes feel like walking boobs.

It’s stupid, because I have a lot of great features, but the thought of the highly unlikely outcome that this lump may be cancerous & I may lose my breast (again, worst case scenario) actually made me feel…ugly. Like, super mega ugly. A lot ugly.

I know breasts don’t equal good looks, but I’ve always been proud of my curves. So, when that thought creeped into my head, it was really odd. Do I value myself by my breasts?

I guess I’m sort of writing in the hopes that I will learn I’m not the only woman who feels this way in a sitch like this. Do all women look @ their diet, bras, deodorant & wonder? Do they all look @ their ever changing menstrual cycles & wonder how those are connected? Do they have a moment where they think “I might lose my breasts & be ugly?”

I’m sure it’s nothing, but as I’ve said, we as women are conditioned to think lump = death sentence so it’s hard not to let those thoughts creep in my head.

This is day one. I’m hoping there won’t be more waiting in my future & I can’t put this behind me.

Unapologetic

Today has been one of those days. Long, stressful & blah. Because I’m too lazy to reblog, my day was marred with this (complete with the order form from the doctor because cred). Normally, I like to distract myself from stressful things by not talking about them or writing philosophical drivel. As part of the ASH Life mission statement to focus on positivity through adversity, that is what I shall do. So, here is a play by play of the worst day of 2013 for your entertainment.

0600: wake up for work sick.
0620: decide makeup isn’t worth it
0627: question whether or not the lack of makeup was the right call
0655: get on the bus
0730: start work. Listen to jingles on TV. Jingles remind me to switch the overlord’s perscriptions to Target.
0900: call clinic & ask if I should drink a litre of water for a boob ultrasound. They laugh. I don’t.
0945: become super thrilled that the alarm on the iPad is being fixed.
1016: make conscious effort not to bite off nails. Celebrate little victories. Wish I was listening to Little Victories by Matt Nathanson instead of work jingles.
1040: take bank deposit to bank. Contemplate Starbucks. Wonder if caffeine causes health issues. Contemplates cutting out caffeine. Remembers I’m an insufferable bitch when sleepy. Decides caffeine must remain a staple.
1107: makes official decision on caffeine

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1308: realized I have less than an hour of work & my appointment is in 82 minutes. Resist urge to vomit as I feel Target guests would not like that.
1345: seriously contemplates pulling the plug on the headphone testers so I never have to hear Clarity again.
1350: coworker says I look like crap. Asks if I’m sick.
1415: bus is late.
1419: started blog post about two conversations I had, one with my ex husband & one with the Texan. Will finish later.
1421: bus is finally here. Nine minutes.
1429: one minute to spare!
1435: get fitted for sweet gown

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1455: leave to catch bus. Put on David Cook. Cry. Compose self enough to catch bus.
1530: chill in my bed with the two smaller ones & enjoy this playtime. It’s not ideal, but I’m so drained & sore & frazzled. This way, I can enjoy them & get some rest.

Now for the longest week EVER. Waiting for results. It’s really sucky but we do what we have to in order to get through. I know this might seem flip, but I’ve always bottled up scary things. Now, I’m going to trudge through with a sort of sarcastic wit & keep up my own spirits while I hopefully hear everything is okay.

Ass Back Home

As part of my never ending quest to be completely self sufficient, I do things that could be viewed as…stupid.

For example, I said I had full shift availability, even though buses stop running two hours before my shift ends. So, what’s a girl to do? I refuse to hitch rides like a bum, so…walk!

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Naturellement, I used social media to amuse myself (or leave a time & date stamp if I died), so I shall leave you with “the things that MH thinks on the long way home.”

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Thank U

I am a person who tries hard to be grateful.

I’m grateful to God for the life I live. I’ve accomplished so many things professionally, I’m successful @ my new job, I have been blessed with beautiful & wonderful children who will grow into successful women. I have awesome friends, the best you could ask for, a skill set that I am passionate about, & I’m not too bad looking.

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Because I try to be grateful, I like to show my appreciation for people who do things that enrich my life. As you’ve all known, all of my blog’s titles are actually song titles of whatever I’m listening to, unless there is one that happens to fit. Music is a huge part of my life & my all time favourite band is Lifehouse. So, when I couldn’t afford tickets, two of my friends used their Caesars total rewards to get us some & I got to see my future husband Jason Wade live.

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I’ve thanked them a million times, but thank you again, amazeballs friends.

Secondly, I’m blown away by the support, love & feedback for my new project, The ASH Life. I’m blown away by the number of readers, the comments, emails & texts from people reading & loving what’s started. This is my baby, a chance to give parents a voice, a chance to offer support & a community for people to come together & show positivity & I’m so glad you enjoy it. Thank you to the awesome writers, readers & friends for helping this take off.

If you haven’t seen it, check it out here.

http://livetheashlife.wordpress.com

Thank you for reading ASH Multimedia too. I appreciate all of it. It means so much to me that people read & enjoy my words. I hope you continue to in the future.

xoxo MHC

My Blog Beats For Love

I love my children, even when they are being mouthy pains in my butt.

During summer vacation, the crew often holes up in my bed in the mornings, usually @ 4:30am because my 3yo wants to play “Grumpy Birds”(I often wake up to find her playing hahaha).

Well, they were playing with my phone & my 6yo says:

“What’s Oke?” (It took me a minute to realize what she was asking. She was pointing @ an app on my phone)
“Oh. Um, it’s an app Auntie _____ signed me up for (& flirted with guys for me) so that I could make new friends.”
“Like e-harmony?”

My 12yo’s ears perked up.

“WHAT?! NO! YOU CAN’T USE THAT!”

Later that day I discovered my account had been deleted, as was the app. I began to give my daughter a lecture about stealing Mommy’s phone while she’s in the tub & how sometimes people have to go, blah blah blah, hope they’re happy & I got this.

“Why? No one cares that we’re not happy. The right thing is the thing that makes the most people happy & you & Blank as a family made us happy, G happy, you happy & him happy. He said it all of the time when I was eavesdropping; no one made him happy except for you. He needed to marry you because he was so happy. Now only he is happy. How is that fair? If this was right, everyone would be happy, not one person & if they were a good person, they’d want to make us happy too.”

Then she threatened to take off on her dad, show up at his work & tell him that he promised that we could have anything we asked, so go home with us. I threatened with groundings & no camp. FYI she still hates me. I’ve reached a point where I say “yup, I know, I’m awful. Now check the attitude.” I think I’m handling it rather well.

I guess I taught my daughters tenacity too well. They want one person (much like me) & since I’m the worst liar, they see through my statements of wishing him well, blah blah blah. They know I want him here as much as they do & resent my inaction. Of course, I’m a grown up & know if he wants to be here, he would come back for me. He would do what he said & swallow his ego, his pride & be with me. I won’t reduce myself to chase a person (I will write about my attempts to move forward though. But I do get a lot of comments from people appreciating my candour, as they’re in the same boat, so maybe it’s helpful). I don’t want someone out of guilt or obligation. I want them to be where they want to be. So, I’m trying to muddle through life alone, bowing to the peanut gallery & allowing myself to be forced into dating again & opening up the prospects of finding someone who will suffice, or maybe Mr. Right (even though I met him & blew it).

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But how do I introduce someone new to the girls (which wouldn’t be for a year @ least) when they appear to have their mom’s stubborn streak & only accept one person? They come first & if they don’t like the man in my life, well it’s curtains for him. Obviously, that date with the substitute teacher is on hold permanently, as they’re just not ready for the idea of Mom having male friends (12 even resents my platonic male friends, because they might get ideas & ruin it for when he keeps his promise & comes back).

I guess I should be thankful that they are capable of loyalty, even if it is misguided. Their devotion to the man they wanted to be their stepdad (& who told them he would be) is very sweet. I also feel guilty because I didn’t tell them anything right away. He had left & come back so many times before that I just believed that he would. It was always the same; he’d leave, talk to me after a period of time claiming we should be friends & then after we talked, he would profess his devotion to me & ask to be with me. My friends said it would be the same, so I waited, my now ex best friend said it might take up to a year, be patient. So, I was. Then when they said that they lied (& blamed me for their callous disrespect. I don’t miss them, nor will I. Own your own deceit), I was forced to finally explain that there would be no more Blank, no more G. So, now we’re here & I feel so guilty, like I broke my kids.

I don’t want them to get attached to another man, just for him to leave us. I don’t want to meet anyone else, I’m still in love with him. The girls want him & I’m sort of outside looking in wanting to please everyone but I can’t & living with the guilt of knowing I hurt my girls & stupidly wondering if it would all go away if he came back, even though I couldn’t really trust him to stay.

Welcome to parenting, MHC style. Sometimes it ain’t pretty but it is what it is. Unfortunately, we’re learning to muddle through together & hopefully we’ll all get through it & be happy.

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It’s Not Over

I think it’s time I unretire from the world of print journalism.

Now that I have a full time job & my economic future is bright, I’m going to assemble my portfolio & shop it to various Windsor publications to freelance. I know it’s only been three months, but that’s too long to not have a byline if you’re me.

Maybe I should explain; this is all I know how to do. I’m sure I have other discernible skills, after all, I’m employable, but writing is the only true career path I want or that I choose to pursue. Freelancing will give me back my byline, which will make me a happy MHC.

Thank you wise hot sauce.
Thank you wise hot sauce.

This sort of factors into that “stubborn” thing I referenced. I could be a law clerk; I don’t want to. I don’t want to work in office administration either. It’s alright, but it’s not for me. Writing is my passion; my one true love. The day I meet someone who understands that they will ALWAYS take a backseat to my career, I’d actually want to marry him. My girls & my career come first. Bitchy? Of course. But I didn’t want to be seven different things & then settle. Much like every other major decision in my life (I believe there is one partner for me, one signature scent, I rarely try on more than one outfit with shopping, I know what I want) there was only one profession for me. Since I was eight years old, this is what I’ve wanted to do & I’m damn good at it. Now that I’ve stroked my own ego, it’s time to get to work.

I’m excited about this. If I get picked up, I may have a new “beat” (although I love entertainment journalism) & break into a new facet of my beloved world of the written word. I’ll work with new editors, new publishers, make new contacts! I’ll have DEADLINES! The idea of pulling an all nighter proofing a piece makes me giddy!

So, wish me luck, I hope someone wants to pick up a determined journalist ready for the next challenge.

Stupid Girls

I just realized that my entire adult life can be described in about 8 P!nk songs. I’m not sure if this is really cool or horrifying. It’s entirely possible that this means I need more sleep & between work, raising the fam jam, setting up the ASH Life in time for launch (cheap plug, insert cheap pop here) & stopping my friends from leading a revolt against The Adventures of Tintin, I’ve gone crazy.

Or I need to stop making Red Bull a staple in my diet. Whatever.

PS I love P!nk.

Gone Gone Gone

Today I went on a hilarious shopping trip with a friend whom I met in college. We talked about a great many things, including why I will never be “Gangsta.” But we also talked about why words can’t hurt if you don’t let them.

I recently received a letter from a former friend, that was full of scathing vitriol and a bunch of other negative things. The timing of said letter was amusing, as I had been very vocal about my recent academic and employment successes, weight loss success, and how my life is basically all around awesomesauce. It almost seemed like the former friend was trying to drag me down because I frankly, didn’t care that they weren’t in my life right now, as they don’t fit in the plan and had damaged my trust beyond repair. It was like this person was almost bitter that I carried on without those people in my life, so they needed to try and knock me down a peg, either because of jealousy or pettiness, or whatever, but people handle things differently and all feelings are valid and should be respected. However, I laughed and threw it out.

We talked about something I mentioned awhile ago, which is that we need to stop sugar coating words like “fat” or “depressed” and just take them for what they are. We both said that words, once embraced, lose their power. During my last year of school, I often took shots on my GPA, calling myself “the dumb one.” People often wondered why I did it, but it was because I knew there were certain students that would attempt to use my academic probation to make me feel lower, and damage my self-worth. So, I owned it: “Yup, I’m dumb. I have a crappy GPA. I suck. Hahaha.” However, that meant that those people couldn’t do that to hurt me anymore.

I said to a friend the other day, that I use things that people use to bring me down because by owning those things, whether true or not, you cannot hurt me with those slurs. I am most certainly not dumb. In fact, when it comes to certain subjects, I often had the highest grades in the class and the reviews of my published work are almost completely flawless. However, if I let those insults roll off of my back like that, they lose all power. Much like the idea of the word “fat.” I’m fat, which is why I’m working on a diet and weight loss plan, which has allowed me to lose 31lbs so far. I’m not going to hide behind sugar coating to make things feel warm and fuzzy. A spade is a spade. Blonde is blonde. Fat is fat. A big nose is a big nose. None of these things are a reflection of who you are as a person. It’s just what is, just like having blue eyes. If you don’t like being fat; fix it. If you want to expand your mind; read a book. But don’t sugar coat your life.

These words only have power if you allow them.
These words only have power if you allow them.

So, if someone needs to send me a nasty letter to try and bring down the place I am in, good for you. I hope that you feel better that you got all of that out. I’m perfectly fine with people thinking I’m a half crazy, over-sensitive crybaby with a fat ass and is destined to become a cat lady while pining away for someone & their child. I’m also completely awesome; strong and beautiful, a double college graduate, a published writer who has interviewed 26 of the world’s most popular celebrities and has been published in various magazines over 200 times. I’m gainfully employed at a job that is not in my field, but offers me great financial compensation and benefits. I have great kids who are gifted in athletics, my 6yo is a straight A student and can read at a grade 3 level and my 3yo has the vocabulary of a child twice her age. They learned that from me. I’m charismatic and charming, witty and funny and a fund of useless information. But sure, I’m a nutcase too. Whatever.

Words are just that. Words. Don’t let them hurt you. Take them back, own them. Even if they are not true, it doesn’t matter. It’s just a matter of showing people that they can’t bring you down with their hateful words. Embrace your best self and don’t let people nitpick your flaws to hurt you by embracing them too.