I go to the same Tim Horton’s every single day because Canada. Every day a well dressed man holds the door open & proceeds to flirt with me. I politely tell him I have a boyfriend & I’m not interested & maybe go away. So, today, this happened;
Because naturally “no” means “please sir, grab my ass.” Duh.
I’ve always considered myself a feminist, but I also understand that I suck at it. While I believe that all women deserve equal pay & treatment, I also sort of victim blame. I’ve lost a lot of weight & I am confident in my skin (I’m still trying to lose that last 15lbs so I’m in the normal range of the BMI). One of the things that frustrates me is the lack of fitness lately because I pride myself on getting in shape. But I also know I dress in a manner that some men catcall. I believe you can wear whatever you want & you shouldn’t be catcalled, but I also understand I’m in the minority. I play up my cleavage, I wear tight ass pants. I know I’ll get attention, both positive & negative, but let me make one thing clear, you DO NOT EVER TOUCH ME.
I’m not touchy feely on a good day. I don’t like people hugging me (unless we are close friends or I gave birth to you), so I especially do not want some creepy bastard putting his hands on me. But then I got thinking, maybe the creepy bastard doesn’t actually realize he’s a creepy bastard! So, I decided to help. Here’s a helpful list of rules to help you for future dealings with me (or any other woman):
1. Do not EVER touch me.
2. In case of any confusion, please see rule number one.
3. Repeat rule number one.
4. My name isn’t baby. I am not a baby, and even if I was, I most certainly not your baby.
5. My name isn’t sweetie, pumpkin or honey. Those are foods.
6. My parents gave me a name. Stick with that (the only exception to this rule is that my boyfriend calls me Dollface sometimes. But I’m sure we all have friends who call us by a nickname).
7. If you had a daughter, would you want a strange man interacting with her the way you are treating me right now? If not, don’t do it. If you don’t have a daughter, you have a sister or a mom. Would you like it if a random stranger slapped her in the ass?
8. The friend zone isn’t real. If you choose to remain friends with a woman after she’s declined your advances, then you made your choice. A woman doesn’t owe you anything because you listened to her or were a good friend except a thank you.
It’s not hard guys. It’s about basic respect. I shouldn’t have to have my boyfriend with me every second to keep you from hitting on me (and just so we’re clear, had he been there today, it would have played out the same, because he respects my desire to take care of myself. He probably would have laughed at the creeper limping away covered in tea. That’s about it) & I’m sure every woman feels the same way. I’ve heard the best pick up line is not acting like a total douche. Try it sometime.
Have you ever had a moment where you’re like “eff this, I’m going to move into a hobbit hole & cut off communication with the outside world forever?”
Because that’s me right now (well, not really. I don’t eat enough to be a hobbit & I like human interaction too much. Also, living in a hole would freak me out because claustrophobic).
I feel like I’m failing in my professional life. My rep sent me the most disrespectful email, complete with claims that I’m irresponsible because I didn’t come in on my days off & explain something. The other quit because I am “mean.” It’s impossible to work when your team respects you so little that they feel comfortable calling you names in the body of a corporate email. But I feel like quitting will seem like I can’t hack it. So, I cry because I had to leave my kid’s birthday party to deal with something that I’m not 100% sure means I’m a bad manager. But two weeks in & my team says I’m a bad manager. I’m too hard on them. I expect too much. I don’t really know what to do. But, maybe I’m too sensitive because I actually take it personally. It’s reached a point where I loathe my job. And the logical part of my brain says, “if you hate it, quit!” But I don’t want to be a bad person & leave my company in flux. Sigh.
However, my week of stupid has helped me realize something (actually, I realized it last night after I met Seth Rollins. None of this has anything to do with anything, I just wanted to point out that I met Seth Rollins, because I am a giant child);
I AM SUCH A GEEK
Maybe it’s because I’m a woman & we’re taught to apologize at work a lot, but I struggle to accept my feelings, or my difficult days as valid.
I would like to stress that this is not a learned behaviour from my inner circle. I have great people in my life & they love me. This is just a weird quirk I’ve noticed. As my professional life continues to challenge me & I continue to struggle to settle into a routine here, I find I don’t talk to my friends or love as I should. In fact, I’ll do everything but; I’ll make small talk, I’ll crack wise, anything but express fear that I’ve made a mistake, or my writing career isn’t going well & my professional life is a mess & I feel like a Mighty Morphin Failure Ranger. I always make an excuse. Today, while talking to one of my best friends who finally demanded I talk about why I haven’t been texting much or talking much or whatever, he asked if I had called my beau to express why I’m so frustrated with my job & that I’m lonely & homesick & I basically said he’s working & busy & felt badly enough about his schedule & I shouldn’t bother him. This isn’t something he does to make me feel that way; If anything; he’s the MHC whisperer. He loves me even when I’m being overly dramatic & whiny. He gets me when I’m in a tizzy & knows how to make me feel better without being a condescending dickbag. He’s the one person on this planet who knows how to deal with bitchy, frustrated me in a way that makes me feel loved & respected. But I simply said “he’s so busy & he works so hard & I’m not going to bother him with my overreacting to my professional annoyances & my missing my friends. These things are stupid.”
This applies to all of my friends. Damanda is busy at the law office, Melissa is swamped with work & her own life. Sarah is working with her husband to get her business going. Gleason Table has a family & a power plant. I can’t bother them with my petty annoyances at my non-important job. They have important stuff to deal with! All of my friends are amazing. They would totally listen to me rant. As would my brother. I’d do the same for them. But instead, I’m like “Nah, I got this,” and then cry.
Maybe it’s because for years I felt I had to cultivate an image of someone who never gets angry or upset. Maybe it’s because my alleged best friends stopped talking to me when I went through a weird phase a few years ago where I was so dissatisfied with my professional & personal life that I just became a huge downer. They basically told me had I faked it & just kept my feelings to myself, we’d still be friends. Maybe I just need to feel like I can handle everything myself, like no one can kick you while you’re down if no one knows you’re down. Or somewhere, I just decided that everything I feel that isn’t happy is actually stupid & unimportant & therefore isn’t worth discussing. People love positive MHC. I love her too & I strive to be that person, but because I like who I am; the rest of y’all can deal. I am awesome. But pretending that I don’t have weeks where I feel scared, lonely, inadequate or insecure isn’t good for me. These emotions are actually normal. It’s okay to feel them. They are valid. It’s okay to talk to someone you love about why you hate everything & let them help you figure out your next move. It doesn’t make you less bad ass, I swear.
Now, you’re probably thinking “MHC, this was a terrible life lesson, you’re just writing, you’ll never actually give up on the idea that you’re the eternal optimist or actually build a support system!”
But, admitting you need to work on something is step one. I need to recognize that being grumpy does not detract from my eternal optimist, happy sunshine shines from my behind personality. Not to mention walls that one has put up aren’t so easily torn down. They come down slowly, a few bricks at a time. And I’ve done fairly well in letting people in past them, but there’s always a couple of bricks we hide behind. And those who love me will understand that I’ll probably write about my feelings before I’m ready to talk to them. They get it. They’ll let me sort out my frustrations on my own & let me decide when I need someone to talk to & help me figure out how to get through & that I need to muddle on my own for a bit. But they respect that this is my way & to let me figure out for myself what I need.
So, I’m going to sort out my professional life while also learning how to sort out that it’s okay to be mad, sad, or just plain bitchy. Maybe I’ll watch Inside Out with the littles & learn what happens when feelings have feelings, because feelings have feelings too.
It drives me nuts. I will actually will myself to be happy, even when everything around me is awful & stupid & I want to punch something. This has been the last three weeks of my life. There are random snippets of awesome mixed in with stupid, but the more I fixate on proving some kind of point that I’m totally kicking ass at this “I moved across the country, now watch me be a super success,” the more I want to sit down & cry.
Literally me.
I’m tired of fighting with the dad as he lays the pity trips on the girls about how he might not come for Xmas, because he can’t afford it & has no job (seven counts of sexual harassment & misconduct will do that), even though I’m paying to fly him out here for Xmas. Every extra cent I have goes to ensuring he can see his kids. I even offered him a way to never pay child support again if he wanted to move closer & be a parent. But then I get the blast of how I don’t care about him & I’m selfish & boo hoo & I know it shouldn’t, but it gets to me. I get personally offended when he doesn’t call on the first day of school or when he tries to worm his way out of visiting, making the kids cry. Like, why can’t you put aside your pettiness & be a freaking dad? I know I shouldn’t care, but I keep trying to help him be involved & I am always the bad guy.
Then there’s my job, that adds more responsibility (as now I may be traveling to our sister store twice a month), which I should be grateful for, but I’m just tired. This means more time away from home. This means more time away from writing, which frustrates me so, as I’m working so hard on an article that may never see the light of day because my editor doesn’t return my emails & won’t give me an official Greenlight to work on it, but wants me to write it. I’m jumping through hoops, so I blog more almost for validation, like please someone think I’m talented. My schedule lends me little free time, so I spent most of my day off scrambling to put a birthday together for my six year old because I had literally done nothing. That brings working mom guilt. I used to be good at time management. I used to be queen of making my kids birthdays the best ever. I barely have my kid’s party planned & I still don’t own a table. Oh, and I forgot to make anything. Like, at all. It’s in two days. In the age of Pinterest moms, I’m pretty sure I won’t be winning any mom of the year awards any time soon.
And of course, this is all exacerbated by the fact that I’m lonely af. My birthday is in 10 days & it’s the first time in six years I’m not working/in school/caring for a newborn. I know four people in this city. One is super pregnant. The others are working (& you literally cannot be upset with someone because they have to work, you just can’t. It’s so rude). I know the kids & I will have a blast (until WWE ruins my life later on in the evening), but it just makes me feel so incredibly lonely. *sniffles*
I try to pretend it doesn’t bother me, but I’m just so freaking lonely. Sometimes it feels like my boyfriend is my only companion & then I feel guilty because he has friends & a life & I really don’t. And I don’t want to be a drain on him or rely on him as the only adult I spend time with. It’s bad enough I feel like a broke ass because he pays for everything & I would like to feel like I somehow improve his life & make him happy & not poor. But I miss having my inner circle. I want my best friends with me on my birthday. I don’t want to wait until November to see them (if I can swing it, as I’m also trying to make sure the dad can see the girls for Xmas), I just want my best friends here for my birthday…
…I want to go home.
Yes, I’m a huge Debbie Downer right now & that actually pisses me off. I hate negativity. I’m the happiest person in the whole wide world. So there. But I thought this would all be easy. I’d be a good cell phone boss lady, and right now I don’t feel very good at it. I’d get a writing job easy peasy. I’d make friends like I did in London. But I feel like I’m sinking under a ever growing tidal wave of self doubt & loneliness & I just want to feel like I belong here or that my presence in this stupid cow province meant anything.
I also understand that I’ll be fine in a couple of days. I’m super bad ass & I don’t need anyone to make me feel better. I just feel guilty that I was so unprepared for my kid’s birthday & lonely & kind of like an island. But even the happiest girl in the world is allowed to feel sad, or homesick, or like an island in the universe with no one else on it & the rum is gone.
But the fact that I’m whining actually pisses me off more than my recognizing that these feelings are perfectly valid. Hence the late night blog rant. I recognize that it’s okay to feel this way, I just won’t allow it, because I am amazing & I will just power through & smile like the happy little creature that I am, because that’s the expectation I’ve set for myself & I’m determined to succeed here, even if right now it feels like I’m drowning.
Every single thing about my week (professionally) was super stupid. Between hiring and interviewing and being challenged by my editor, I honestly just kind of wanted to punch something in the face. Add in the realization that I’ve gained 10lbs since I moved here because my fitness mojo has been all off and you had a down right bitchy MHC (just ask one of my reps when he told me “I think I know why you’re gaining all of your weight back,” while I was eating a piece of banana bread. He’s still alive, I promise).
Fortunately, my spirits were lifted today with a series of events that made today not stupid, from snuggles with my five year old, and early access Pumpkin Spice Latte and a helpful pep talk with Matty the Bastard, my journalistic BFF. I even got my replacement cell phone boss lady phone, complete with a screen protector, because apparently you break ONE phone with your ass and Sony doesn’t trust you or something.
DO NOT put a Sony Z3 in your back pocket. Just DON’T DO IT
I guess I didn’t realize how much pressure I was putting on myself to be successful, and that caused me to make rookie mistakes that a nine year journalism veteran like me should know not to make. The hiring process at my store had me on edge. I mean, hiring the right person feels like it should be some kind of precise science and hiring the wrong person could spell disaster. And if I screw up either of these things, then I pretty much uprooted my family for nothing!
(If you’re thinking, Gosh MHC, I feel like you’re being a little bit melodramatic. I’m going to assume you’re new)
This made me pretty much the least tolerable human being for most of this week. I don’t like venting to people about why my life feels stupid. Hell, I don’t even like it when my significant other tries to pay for milk (although it’s very sweet and I need to learn to be more appreciative of his attempts to do nice things for me and not just flip out because I’m independent God damnit), so I’m especially not going to go crying like a little baby because I’m feeling overwhelmed about stuff that is largely made up and actually stupid. I need to handle stupid stuff on my own, without being melodramatic or crying. Why? Because I’m a grown ass woman, or so I’ve been told.
Instead, I decided to focus on finding GOOD in this situation. This involved changing my thinking. If this magazine doesn’t work out, there are others. I wouldn’t be the first writer to realize the first magazine offer I got isn’t the right one for me. I need to think of my editor calling me out as a positive thing. After all, she must see some potential in my writing to challenge me to do better. Otherwise, she would have just cut me loose. Freelancers are easy to come by. I should be grateful that she is trying to get my best out of me, because when she gets it, I’ll be a better writer! It’s okay that I’ve gained a little, this helps me remember why I started going to crossfit in the first place; to get in better shape and be healthier. Maybe I needed that bitchslap from the scale to get some motivation mojo, as I’ve been so bummed that the new gym isn’t as welcoming as my old one. Also, the girls will be in school, so I won’t feel guilty that I missed a month of their lives so I feel like if I go to the gym before work, that makes me a bad mom.If anything, I’ll be teaching them good habits that make me a good mom. I was chosen to be the boss, I need to act like it and start making decisions and standing by them.
But most importantly, I need to stop thinking that everything I do here, good or bad, means this whole thing was for nothing. I did this to better my family and that’s what I’m doing. I’m gaining management experience, which I can use to continue to move up in the world and earn a better living for my daughters. I’m growing as a writer and improving every day. I’ve made some rad new friends and I’m really happy with the current state of my life. I just need to stop worrying that if I don’t become the most successful person that I know, then I’ve somehow ruined my life. My success as a person is not defined by how quickly I became the best writer in Western Canada. My success as a person is defined by my being a good person and role model for my daughters, so that’s what I’ll do.
Success is rad, but success comes when you work for it, not stress over it. So, I’ll put in the work and the effort and the success will come when the work is done and in the interim, I’ll take stupid days and find the positive, even if it seems like there is none to be found.
Five years ago, I started this little blog to help endorse my ex husband’s photography career. The photography & the husband are gone, but after 511 posts, over 65K views & five years, I’m still writing & that’s kind of rad.
I don’t even recognize the person I used to be. I look at old photos and wonder who that woman is. I don’t recognize her (not just because I’ve dropped 100lbs) & I’m so glad. I love the person I found while muddling through life & finding that my life needed many things; passion for my career, a commitment to being a role model to my daughters, all the Crossfit, and the strength to stand on my own & become the woman I always was meant to be.
The five year evolution of MHC
I no longer fear being my overly determined, impulsive & flighty self. I no longer fear being left to deal with life on my own. I no longer fear anything, except for geese, because they are terrible. I don’t take life too seriously anymore; I’m not going to make it out alive anyway. Now I trust that the universe will put me where I need to be & I’ll sieze those opportunities & make them my bitch. I’ve finally hacked away all the poison friends, relationships, self doubt & fear & have only the good left. And I love it.
NEVER take life seriously
I used to think that I needed to conquer the world (this is lies, I still want this), but now, I just want to work towards my goals & make my daughters proud of me. So, I’ve decided to build my life on three basic rules. All I need is this;
1. Something to work for (whether it’s to be a better writer, or a better mother, a better girlfriend, Crossfitter, or human).
2. Someone to love & love me in return (my children, my friends, my mom & brother & my beau, whom I have always loved & always will)
3. Faith in myself & my path, whether it’s the one that was well worn, or the one I forged myself through the mountains.
The rest are details that mean little to me. I may never be a staff writer (this is lies, I for sure will), or a wife again (which is so low on my list of priorities, under “get root canal”), or a size six. But I will always be MHC & that’s the most awesome thing ever.
Thanks for hanging out with me & my kooky life for five years. I’m sorry if you applied any of my ideas to your life & probably screwed it up for you. Might I suggest Taylor Swift or Beyoncé as a role model? They’re much better at this. I hope you don’t recognize yourself from five years ago because you’ve grown into the person you were meant to be. I hope you’ve found joy, happiness, & you’ve found the love of your life.
I look forward to what the next five years will bring…
I have a confession; I waste a lot of time on social media.
When all of your friends are two time zones away, I get lonely, so I waste time on social media. My favourite places to waste time are on George & Brad Takei’s respective FB pages. Today he posted a hilarious meme that had me cracking up;
Don’t worry, all the Tumblr Social Justice Warriors were out in full force, explaining how Barbie was designed to fulfill men’s fantasies & create an unrealistic standard for women & He-Man was half alien (no he wasn’t) & little boys know the difference between a doll’s body & a real one because it’s make believe & girls shouldn’t have Barbies or Princess a Dolls because they teach them how to be damsels in distress.
Let me tell you that all of this is bullshit.
When I was a little girl, I played with Barbie. I had Dr. Barbie, Rock Star Barbie, and yes, I was gifted Reporter Barbie at the age of six. I didn’t see Barbie’s waist or hair & think “I have body image issues!” I was excited that she had a bad ass job & after work, she could dress up to go out with my Jordan Knight doll.
Anyone who thinks Barbie is somehow hurting little girls makes me sad, because Barbie gets a bum rap. Barbie has had 150 careers, owns her own house, her own car, stables, an RV, a moped, among other things. No disrespect to the men out there that do respect women and their career choices, but I’m pretty sure a doll designed to fulfill the desires of men wouldn’t be an independent bad ass who owns her own stuff & works hard. What I learned from Barbie is that girls can do damn near anything they want. My daughters play with Barbie (although the younger two prefer Ever After High) and they always liked that Barbie was a vet, or a nurse, or a pilot. Yes, there are cooking sets, or beach dolls, but all people eat & go to the beach. That’s not sexist; that’s liking to eat & go to the beach.
even Barbie understands the importance of converged journalism
What grinds my gears is the idea that boys wouldn’t feel body image pressure from a toy, but girls are fragile flowers that must be protected. Boys have body image issues too. While I don’t feel that the media or celebrities have the power to make you feel badly about yourself, as you choose how you feel about yourself & have the power to change it if you don’t like it, saying a little boy wouldn’t feel inadequate because it’s make believe play (you know, like BARBIE) is silly. Personally, I don’t get it because everyone on Eterna looked like He-Man, even Bo, that dick that pined for Adora. Maybe Eterna’s schools have a heavy focus on PE.
Every super hero for boys is ripped. Did Captain America have the dad bod? Nope. What about Chris Pratt, who women say “got hot” when he got in shape for Guardians of the Galaxy? Men are bombarded with images of the triangle body. Again, I don’t think a magazine or a celebrity can give you body image issues, you have them because of you & only you can learn to embrace them or fix them, I’ve said this before. But if you did believe that, then why wouldn’t you believe that a toy could also affect a little boy as Barbie would a girl?
At the end of the day, no toy, no magazine, no celebrity can make you feel badly. No words can hurt you unless that’s how you already feel about yourself. People call me fat, crazy, whatever, but I choose to love myself & focus on being healthy with a eating healthy & the odd treats in moderation & Crossfit. Words only hurt if you give them the power to hurt. But if He-Man is make believe & kids can’t learn body image issues from toys, let’s stop saying it about Barbie, as she’s cut from the same plastic.
I used to be that person who was way too open with my life online. Then I got burned & now I’m not.
My personal life isn’t “out there” on FB, with memes & sap. I’m not that girl anymore. There have been random tweets, but again, this is rare. In fact, I don’t even think I tell my friends when I’m dating someone (aside from my closest friends). I’m very guarded about my life, whom I trust, because it’s something I struggle with. This is why it weirds me out when people put their personal lives all over the Internet.
WWE Superstar Darren Young took some heat from fans this week when he posted screencaps of an Instagram DM (which can still be found on Young’s Twitter), where a cameraman for the E! series Total Divas sent a shirtless snap to the former Tag Team Champion. He then sent back a photo of his partner & put the man on blast for trying to “break up his happy home.” Young defended his airing of his dirty laundry in some other tweets after fans called him out on his poor behaviour. As my friend Matt Bastard & I discussed jealousy & whether it means a lack of trust in your partner, I thought this whole thing was sad & really embarrassing for Darren Young.
I used to be a bit jealous. Not much, but there was one friend of my boyfriend’s that made me feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was the fact that they used to date. Maybe it was the fact that she was overly flirtatious. I’m not sure. But it bugged me. Now, I’m indifferent. Somewhere along the way I became more confident in who I am as a person. This helped me realize that he loves me. It doesn’t matter if she’s pretty, if they used to date, if they were neighbours, or if she hypothetically showed up at his house naked. He loves me & chose me. And he respects me enough to be faithful to me. I’m sure he notices pretty girls, but in the end, he loves me & chooses to be with me & demonstrates this with his actions. And I need to be confident in his choice & trust him. After all, my being insecure in his choice makes him feel like he needs to do more to prove that I’m his choice. My questioning his choice makes him question it. Lack of trust brings more mistrust. Now, I understand that he chose me because he loves me & I have no reason to question this, because I know he feels it’s the right one. So, instead of being insecure; I’m proud to be the woman he chose.
I’m sure lots of women hit on him. He’s a good looking, intelligent man who works around people all day. I’m sure girls send him flirty Facebook messages & texts. But he loves me, so it doesn’t matter. However, I would question his character if he put these women on public blast, instead of just politely telling them he has a girlfriend. This would show me a lack of respect for people on his part & an even less respect for me. If you need to put a human on blast to prove your home is happy, then your home isn’t that happy. I don’t know Darren Young or Nick Villa, his partner. But I do know that they don’t seem terribly secure, as they had to put humiliate a stranger to validate their love. Maybe this cameraman wasn’t aware that Young was in a relationship. I’m not married, I don’t wear a ring. I’ve had men ask for my number because there is no obvious indication that I’m with anyone. So, I tell them & life goes on. A simple “thanks for the invite, but I have a boyfriend,” would have sufficed. Maybe they could have become platonic friends? Now, some poor guy has been shamed & humiliated for what could have been a simple misunderstanding.
The only thing I took away from Darren Young’s tweets was that his relationship appears to be full of insecurity, jealousy & a lack of trust. So much so that he needed to humiliate a total stranger to prove how “happy” he is with his partner. Anyone who needs to go to such immature lengths to showcase a happy relationship can’t be that happy. The fact that these two make such a public front to appear happy makes me think their private is actually stressful.
A little bit of jealousy is normal, everyone who loves someone might feel a small pang of jealousy from time to time. It means you are protective of your relationship & (when discussed) can help you & your partner find a comfortable place. But when your jealousy & possessiveness leads to you attacking someone & hurting someone else to defend your “happy home,” then you need to evaluate your partner, because there is obviously no trust there, and you can’t have a successful relationship when you’re looking over your shoulder wondering who’s looking at your mate.
All of my deadlines are met, my articles are submitted, I totally forgot to FaceTime Matt Bastard & I’m tired af.
Yay! (Unless you’re Matt Bastard. BUT I HAD A DEADLINE)
Sometimes when you burn the candle at both ends, you run out of wick & you start to feel it, which is me right now, but whatever, I get a day off soon, so there. This week is busy af as it requires some major choices about my current job sitch. Do I do what’s best for me or continue to be a nice person? The struggle is real.
Speaking of jobs, hey guys, remember that time I got offered a job in my field & I couldn’t take it because I didn’t know how to drive?! Because Pepperidge Farm remembers. And today, IT HAPPENED AGAIN.
I was actually caught in the rain, but the despondent look remains
I was offered a job in a place called Golden BC (I need an atlas because I never know where these places are. I assume they are small & have no Starbucks & probably scare me). They asked me to relocate, so I said “I did that not even two months ago. My children would kill me. I signed an 18 month lease. Uhhhhh…why don’t I work remotely building my portfolio because sleeping is stupid anyway?” I haven’t heard back yet. This may have prompted some kind of childish rage tantrum because for the second time in a year, I couldn’t take the job I want more than I want air.
You’re probably thinking; MHC, aren’t you overreacting just a little? The answer; Duh. Have we met? Overreacting is where I’m a Viking.
If this popped up a year from now, the girls & I would likely be headed even further west, but it hasn’t even been 60 days. So here I stay. I found a temporary maternity leave contract that I applied for, and we’ll see how that goes. But I’m determined & I’m so over the Universe’s cock teases.
I’m nothing else, if not honest.
So, I look at the positives, because that’s my thing. Obviously, Western Canada has opportunity for an ambitious little creature like myself. And I have never lacked ambition. Or tenacity. I’m on the right track, as I keep getting offered jobs. In 47 days I can have a Cow Province license & learn to drive on the cow roads. And I can continue to reign as the Queen of cell phones until I reach the goal, as reigning over my phone kingdom gives me money. And I love money.
This has nothing to do with anything , except this is how an Ontarian & a Eastern Canadian talk about my home
So, I’ll learn that these random things that make me want to scream & throw things are actually reminders that I am a good writer & I am someone that a reputable publication will hire & I am in the right part of the world (sort of) to do just that. I just have to keep building my portfolio & plugging away and I’ll finally reach the goal.
Because I’ve spent many years covering entertainment media, I read a lot of celebrity gossip.
Let me rephrase: I read comments on celebrity gossip.
I prefer the comments because I think it’s funny that people waste their days calling celebs names. I comment, but even my constructive comments get maligned with replies with poor grammar & calling celebs whores. Such fun. I love the Internet. I once talked about how parents wonder where their children learn bullying from. They learn it from you BULLYING STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET.
But the Kelly Rutherford/Daniel Giersch custody case has been interesting, as it covers a world of issues, from parental alienation, international coparenting & what is truly in the best interest of the children (you can read the decision here). As someone who is now attempting to cross country coparent, I was very interested in seeing how this plays out.
The decision references that while both are good parents, Ms. Rutherford’s attempts to marginalize her ex husband’s role as dad prompted the judge to choose to give him primary custody of the couple’s two children, as the minimum time he proposed for mom to see the kids was more than the maximum time he would have seen the kids with her plan. As Ms. Rutherford demands her American children be returned to America (the kids hold dual citizenship with the EU), one of the comments I see most is;
“Children belong with their mother, only their mother. What a horrible dad for taking those kids from their mother.”
Wait. What?
One of my favourite blogs is Daddy Doin’ Work. Doyin Richards is committed to promoting the role of dad & encourages women to also allow dad to embrace their parental role. Kids need two parents that are active & emotionally present. You only need to step up when one parent doesn’t step in. And we need to stop with the antiquated idea that dads don’t matter.
One of my best friends is a single dad with full custody of his son. I won’t violate his privacy with details, but he stepped up in a situation where a lot of men wouldn’t & he rose to the occasion & is raising a fine young gentleman. Another one of my friends from public school is fighting tooth & nail every day to be a hands on and present father for his children. Yes, there are deadbeat dads & yes, they suck. But if you are a mom lucky enough to have a partner or former partner who wants to be an active father, don’t be like Ms. Rutherford. Don’t shut dad out.
Dads are damned if they do & damned if they don’t. Look at Stephen Curry, who brought his daughter Riley to all of his playoff games, & press conferences, etc. Women pissed all over him for not “leaving his brat at home with mom” instead if commending him for wanting to share his big moments with his family. But if he left his wife & owed back child support, we’d string him up for being a deadbeat.
I know some of you are thinking “But MHC, you just moved across the country. Didn’t you shut dad out?” I once let myself think that way, but then I realized the difference. Mr. Giersch wants to parent. My former partner blows off Skype dates, and spent less than 10 days with them during his month with them, often leaving them with their grandmother for days. I would call & ask how Daddy was & if they were having fun with him & they answered “he’s at home”. He doesn’t call often. I can give all the access in the world & even offered to help him if he wanted to move closer to give him more access if need be, but he didn’t exercise his access when they were nearby. However, I will always try to encourage him to be a father, to the point where I practically force him, telling him he can’t send our teen daughter home after a few days because she’s annoying him, or demanding he call. If he wanted to parent, he’s got the opportunity. Maybe this idea that dads don’t matter bugs me because while I would kill for my kids to have a dad that’s invested in his children, other dads are being denied the opportunity to coparent.
The other question I read from the “moms are the only option” supporters are “what would you do if you were Kelly?” If I were Ms. Rutherford, or the NCP, I would do the only option; I would move to where they are. Part of being a parent means making the tough choices. This was not an easy choice, but making more money & having full time hours while being able to supplement my income doing what I love made so much more sense than working two jobs & never seeing my kids to put a roof over our head. Sometimes you’ve gotta look at the big picture & do what’s right, not what’s best for you. If I was the NCP, I would have packed my bags the minute the CP said this was the plan. I would have been in the same city with them, so I could attend parent teacher meetings, doctor’s appointments, and birthday parties.
We could all take a lesson in “what’s best for kids” from another celebrity; Britney Spears. 2007 & 2008 weren’t kind to Ms. Spears. But she got it together. We should all commend her for pulling her life together & conquering her mental illness & personal struggles to be the successful woman she’s become. But when she had it together, her sons Sean & Jayden were happily well adjusted in their father Kevin Federline’s Tarzana home. So, she didn’t try to get custody. She put her sons’ needs over her own. And Federline & Spears coparent well. She’s been spotted playing with Federline’s daughters with new wife Victoria Prince while cheering on her sons at soccer. They throw joint birthday parties. Her sons spend all their school vacation time with their mom, and Sean & Jayden win.
Dads matter. If dad doesn’t want to be there, stop forcing him to try to be there, a lesson I’m learning. Trying to make a man parent only hurts the kids. But shutting out a man who wants to parent (or ridiculing a man for wanting to be a parent) hurts them too. So, even if he wasn’t an active dad, but wants to turn that around, let him try to be a dad. If he’s been a good dad all along, let him be a good dad. But what’s best for the kids isn’t just mom. It could be living with mom, or living with dad, or living with grandma. What’s best for kids is the life that is actually best for the kids.
I’m sure that doesn’t make a lot of sense to anyone else, but it does to me. What is mine I like to keep mine. My personal life never goes on FB. Only a handful of people know when I am seeing someone. Any blog posts pertaining to my love life do not get shared on my personal or blog’s Facebook pages. Years ago, I got burned when I was open about my love life. Now I am not. I am far more reserved. I save that part of my life for me & only those closest to me. I don’t need to publicly shout from the rooftops that I am with someone & in love. As long as I’m willing to introduce you to those who are closest to me (my children), then you’re special to me. The rest I like to do slowly, in baby steps, so that I don’t feel in over my head. I once dove in too fast & was engaged after three weeks & married a little over a year later. I always felt like I was drowning, doing too much, too soon & ignoring the red flags. When I was here before, I knew I was with the right person, but I didn’t understand that you can know you’ve met your lobster but not be ready for the major steps. Maybe I’m a lobster that likes to wade in the ocean & not get flung into the pot. Truthfully, I like to let my partner take the lead on major steps & I can let them know how I feel as we go. I like to know their comfort level beforehand. I’ll have a timetable for the next logical step (ie; meet my parents) & unless they take the lead & suggest it much sooner, I’ll bring it up then. If that makes sense. Mostly because I want to do it right; quickly isn’t always “right.” Comfort level is key & mine is “wading pool.”
Everything needs a random Friends reference
Also, my taste in men is generally horrible. I once joked that I was going to buy a shirt that said “I attract losers.” I dated men that didn’t see my worth. I dated men who weren’t there for me when I needed them. I dated abusive psychos & my marriages ended when he tried to smother me with a pillow. I generally pick emotionally abusive or generally horrible people, with the exception of my current love, who was always the right person, just never at the right time. But it is now & it’s wonderful. But I also want to do things in the right way, so I’m more mindful of giving space. I’m more mindful of making sure we take things slowly & do things right & when we are ready, not just jump in, because this lobster likes surf. But I’m also protective of my choices & when those closest to me question my affection for someone & my willingness to give them another chance, I get annoyed. I’m a grown up, I know the risks & I am fine. But, I guess it’s the reasons that annoy me.
“He won’t talk to you every day. He doesn’t even have the decency to send you a good morning text every day. That means he’s not that into you.”
“He’ll have free time & go out with the guys & NOT EVEN INVITE YOU & then leave again because he’ll rather be single & I’ll tell you I told you so…again. You should be his only priority, and you know you’re not.”
Or my favourite;
“You’re dumb & this is gonna blow up because he has no respect for you & I’m going to laugh at you when it does.”
Barf. Not all. Not unless it follows with “I am on my way with Starbucks,” because prioroties.
Nope. My boyfriend & I do not talk every day. Sometimes I’m busy & doing my own thing, as is he. Besides, we are grown adults, who needs someone to check in every day? Blah. I am not his only priority. He isn’t mine. My number one and two priorities are my daughters & my writing career. Everything else is secondary. If I can’t make someone my number one priority, how could I ask that of someone else? All I ask is that I am one of your priorities, as you are mine.
Besides, cutesy words are highly overrated.
(Before you say “MHC, you write novels in greeting cards”. I sure do. Those are actual feelings. Canned sentiment is not)
There are entire webpages dedicated to templates of “Good morning beautiful,” text messages, in case you were wondering about the romance level. It’s not original; nor is it romantic. It doesn’t mean he thought of you, it’s part of the dude playbook. If he wants to go out without me, go out! Have fun. My love is based on free will. This way, I know the choices he makes when it comes to me are 100% his & I respect them. I understand the concern of my inner circle, as historical precedent predicts a sudden and swift exit, and he’s not telling me what I used to think I needed to hear every second to make me feel secure. But I am secure & I know I’m with the right person for a great many reasons, which likely sound so stupid to my friends, but make perfect sense to me;
He knows my Starbucks order & brings it to me every time he sees me, & even makes sure my name is spelled correctly on the cup, because I am convinced that they don’t spell my name wrong.
He brought me ice cube trays because I mentioned I didn’t have any & would have to pick some up later to make iced tea.
He has remembered my favourite colour, book & movie for four years.
He laughs at jokes I’ve told a million times.
He listens to me babble away & is almost amused by my obsessive need to be the best at everything.
He sits with me at the hospital when I’m dealing with a family emergency & makes stupid faces at me because he knows I won’t listen to his attempts to help anyway. But he doesn’t leave the room to go smoke, or go home when he’s obviously exhausted. He just sits & makes dumb faces or tells dumb jokes so I’ll laugh for 10 seconds.
When he asked to be in my life, I asked why I should believe him & he said he would show me. Words are great, but actions are everything. I set timetables to make sure we are ready & he bends them to show me is ready & committed to being with me. He shows up at my door after time apart to show me that he missed me. Any one can type out a text & not hit send until morning, but someone invested will be there when you need them, or remember something stupid you said that would make your day brighter.
I am in love with both
I may have terrible taste in men (or so I’m told), but I know I would rather be with the man who brings me ice cube trays than the guy who says the right words. I’ve been with men who know how to say the right words, but they never did the right things. Now, he sometimes says the wrong thing (not lately, but it’s happened), but despite how my friend sees it, I am a priority. He shows me I am a priority in a million little ways; with his time, with his level of commitment to me, by respecting my comfort zones, & even finding it oddly flattering when I write about him (which I never truly feel comfortable doing, but I’m overtired & had an idea which likely read better in my brain) & often texts me to tell me what he thought; once in such a sweet way it rendered me speechless (for the first time in my entire life).
When given the choice ladies; pick the guy that brings ice cube trays over pretty words. Or if they can do both; pick that guy. The guy who brings the ice cube trays was listening to you & knew you needed them & wanted to make your day easier. That will make you smile far more than a cutesy message (although they can be nice). My father always said pick a man of substance, not a man who knows smooth lines, so I did. Over & over again. And of all the choices I make in life (which are mostly terrible), it’s the best (not parenting or journalism) one I’ve ever made.
The Misadventures of MHC 