Resume of a Three Year Old Boy

Profile: Charming, handsome and precocious male child with over three years of experience in human existence. Sweet, outgoing, very smart, and prone to occasional bursts of rage. The Boy is extremely capable in all aspects of art, music, physical activity, humour, and snack food negotiation.

Highlight of Skills:

  • Able to recite ABCs, count to 20 using mostly correct numbers, write name, and perform a vaguely-inappropriate, music video inspired dance to ‘Uptown Funk’
  • Proven ability to sleep in on school days (but not weekends)
  • Exceptional selective hearing; independent leader and free-thinker (possible anarchist)
  • Excellent capabilities in grandparent manipulation, particularly in the areas of extended bedtimes, television exposure and sugar consumption
  • Highly capable in Timbit acquisition from a variety of sources (see: excellence in unapproved sugar consumption)
  • Innovative (see: using t-shirt as napkin, using napkin as hat, etc)
  • Confident (see: thinking he can swim/fly/drive a car, etc)
  • Encyclopedic knowledge of dinosaurs, reptiles, sharks and some mammals (“the good ones”)
  • Outstanding conversation skills; demonstrated ability to project voice across rooms, public spaces and/or entire provinces, regardless of appropriateness
  • Experience in one-on-one sibling combat; skilled in provocation and takedown (conflict resolution skills emerging – beginner level)
  • Exceeds expectations for cuteness, hilarity, affection, and amount of physical injuries to self/parents (see: two sets of stitches by age two; mild facial injuries to mother)


  • Attended preschool; not expelled (yay!)
  • Completed several extracurricular programs; only kicked out of one sports class for fighting (moderate success?)
  • Watches lots of Little Einsteins (must count for something)

Work Experience:

  • Has done nothing to earn his keep, ever, really
  • Will perform menial tasks in exchange for snack foods


  • Depending on the day, parents may oblige
  • Same goes for friends
  • Grandparents are probably your best bet (see: manipulation)

Hello, 32

it is your birthday

It’s the eve of my 32nd birthday – but no, wait! It’s after midnight now, so really, it IS my birthday. And here I sit, alone on the couch, wrapping up an assignment at nearly 3:00 am. There is an empty can of coke on the side table to my left, and my hair is ‘styled’ into the same top-bun that is always is when I’m staring into my laptop. Honestly. Has much changed since I turned 22 a decade ago?

Well, yes and no. I still love writing, live music, art, travel, adventures, and coffee. I still sleep terribly, cry easily, drink too much caffeine. I still leave my clean clothes heaped in a pile near my closet, but not in my closet. I’m with the same person (married now, and with two children) and I like him just as much as I did, most days. I’m getting paid more and writing less for free, but I’m not exactly living the high life yet. I assume that will happen sometime in the next six months, because that’s when EVERYTHING happens in my imagination. Oh, the future me, so attractive and successful – you’re always right around the corner! It’s good to have goals.

Obviously, a lot has changed. I’m a mother and a (semi)functioning adult member of society with a house, a minivan and a responsibility to be out of bed before noon. I love the first part so much, and will forever hate the last part.

(My daughter has inherited my love of sleeping in, but my son has yet to discover the joy. COME ON, KID. Catch up to the rest of us so we can be lazy AS A FAMILY.)

I have many of the same friendships, though some of my closest loved ones are far away at the moment.

I have many of the same goals, personally and professionally, though I’ve achieved far more than I give myself credit for, when I make myself think about it.

I’m still anxious, emotional, and obsessed with all of my minor and major regrets.

But I’m still hopeful, ambitious, loyal, and filled with love.

I’m definitely going to be tired in the morning, and my son is showing signs of (another) (goddamn) ear infection. It may not be the same birthday as it would have been ten years ago – in fact, it definitely won’t be – but it will be a good one. I’m going to get up early because I have to, work even though I’d rather be napping, and probably get yelled at by my beloved children for ridiculous offences such as offering them the wrong pants. THE WRONG PANTS, again, how dare I hand them weather appropriate clothing? I’m clearly a monster.

In conclusion: happy birthday to me. I’m going to try to squeeze in a mani-pedi, but if not, whatever. I already have everything I need.



Sometimes you take a break; other times you break a little

There is a lot I could write about right now, at 2:00 in the morning on a school night, when I’ve finally cracked open this page and typed words into the screen. A lot has happened since my last post – when was that, anyway? not recently – but honestly, it all seems too big to tackle right now. An adult-parent divorcing their spouse, critical life and career choices, the sudden death of a much-loved friend. It’s all hovering in the back of my mind at all times, waiting to be talked out and written about. And yet, right now, I’m tired, or not there yet, or both. Maybe I’m tired because I’m not there yet, and the idea of putting my feelings into words is still overwhelming. I don’t know. (It could also be because I never sleep, and my brain is in a constant state of fatigue that can only be fought with the venti-est of caffeinated beverages. Does Starbucks sell IV-drips, yet? Well, JUST GIVE THEM TIME.)

But on writing – a part of me has probably been procrastinating to protect my own mental health, knowing that some hills are too high to climb until you’re ready. Anything I would have written over the past few weeks would have felt inauthentic, knowing that my heart and mind were elsewhere. Sure, I could have banged out a few half-assed paragraphs about the crazy shit my kids are doing – they are never NOT doing crazy shit – but it didn’t matter. Not to me, not at that moment. Of course, the kids always matter – but I wasn’t up for taking a funny spin on poop-disaster stories and the other indignities of mom life.

So what brought me back here? Well, two things.

1: I took a four day vacation to visit my brother in northern Ontario, along with my sister. We hiked until our limbs nearly fell off in protest, we drank bad caesars (and later, delicious ones), we talked and laughed, and then slept in for hours. I feel recharged, and somewhat recovered, even if I was deluged with calls and emails the second my plane hit the tarmac back in Toronto. Thanks, reality. And also…

2. I saw a headline I was interested in reading, and clicked the link, and it led to a podcast. I hate podcasts, so naturally, the raging writer in me burst forth. DAMN YOU, PODCASTS. I just wanted to read words on a screen, not listen to a full-length radio show! Do you know how much effing commitment a podcast is? Seriously. And now you know what my next post is going to be about, maybe. (Actually, it’s what THIS post was going to be about, before I tried to explain my absence and delved into the emotional rabbit hole that ALWAYS opens up under me. DAMN YOU, FEELINGS.)

So it’s a new day in many ways, and back to the grind in others. Let’s see how long I can last before I break again, in the way life tends to break me, if only a little bit. And soon: podcasts, aka, UNREADABLE SPOKEN WORD THINGS THAT YOU CAN’T READ ON YOUR PHONE OR SKIM BEFORE BED OR REALLY DO ANYTHING WITH UNLESS YOU HAVE 45 SOLID MINUTES TO DEVOTE TO THAT SHIT, seriously, it’s like radio mixed with internet but disguised as typed-word articles, always, just to fuck with me. Why are they so popular? Am I this old and lame? Am I even allowed on this internet thing? Someone bring me a thick paper storybook that smells of dust and pine, and I’ll be happy forevermore.

sea lion