It’s all-consuming, isn’t it?

It does something to you the minute that you find out it’s real. It takes over your soul, your mind and your body. It quickly takes control of your heart with a grasp so tight that it almost takes your breath away. It screams so loudly that it’s hard to hear anything else. It turns you into we.

It makes you a better person, but it makes you so unsure of yourself. It makes you stronger, but it causes you to drop to your knees more often than anything else. It fills you with unspeakable joy, but it’s quite often wrapped in tears. It causes you to beam with pride while you hope that no one notices the bumpy road that got you to that moment. It is everything you ever hoped and wished for, but until this moment, you had no idea what that even meant.

I became a mother, and my world as I knew it completely fell apart.

From the moment of conception, I’ve been consumed by something that’s hard to even describe. It’s a fire that fuels my every thought, my every hope and my every breath. It’s a voice that roars from the core of my being. It’s a force that pushes and pulls me in ways that I could never have prepared myself for. It’s a warmth that fills every empty spot within me. I simply do not exist without them, and that’s the most terrifying yet incredibly wonderful thing ever.

My children changed me.

Because of them, I am a much better version of who I used to be. Because of them, I am braver than I ever dreamed possible. Because of them, I’m learning how to do things I didn’t even know I wanted to learn. Because of them, I’ve experienced true love without strings attached. Because of them, I’ve laughed, I’ve cried, I’ve screamed, I’ve worried and I’ve accomplished great things. Because of them, I am strong. I am fierce. I am awesome.

Because of them, I found myself.

Motherhood has consumed me. It has not made me weak. It has not made me less than. It has not made me “second”. It has made me who I was meant to be.




Just say No to Tough-Love

Every day when you go online, you can expect to see a blog post or YouTube video or a status that is hacking on a specific group of people. Fat people, gay people, ugly people, old people, etc. It’s ongoing and constant, and pretty much always guaranteed to be there.

Similarly, you can also expect to find just as many posts and video’s reprimanding the people who wrote them and/or shared those posts followed closely by the encouraging posts that are meant to uplift and encourage the people who have been beaten down. They are everywhere.

Fact is, I’ve written many of them myself, and more often than not, they’ve been about Fat Shaming and/or judging people based on their looks alone and then justifying it with “love”. I’ve talked about Mom’s needing encouragement and not judgement, and about shutting-up without knowing all the information or owning your own crap.  Frankly, I’m tired of writing them. Not because I think they’re dumb posts, but because they even have to be written.

If you don’t like what I look like because I’m fat, don’t look at me. You also don’t need to share or make vulgar or vile videos telling me and everyone else how disgusting and horrible fat people are. And please, for the love of all things, don’t justify those videos and statements by concluding them with: “I only say this because I love you and I want you to live longer”. You can’t share a video filled with ignorant and horrible statements and then say, “excuse the language, but this is how I feel. I love you”.

The second you called me, or shared something by someone calling me fat & disgusting, you lost me.

The reality is, these “fat shaming” crap videos are based SOLELY on what I or the other million overweight people in this world, LOOK LIKE. The videos and rants are 100% inspired by what I look like and NOT who I am. These people don’t know me, they’ve never spoken to me or taken the time to get to know me. They don’t know my history, what I’ve been through and what I’m struggling with. They don’t know if I’m on medications, how many babies I’ve had, how much weight I’ve already lost, or what my personal goals and dreams are even about. They ONLY “know” what I look like. That seems to be the point that everyone misses, these posts & diatribes have nothing to do with how much you love me and/or worry about me, they’re about my appearance.

Am I saying that being overweight is healthier than being a “normal” weight, nope, I’m not saying that. Am I saying that you have no idea what my normal, or anyone else’s is for that matter, Yes, I am. Am I saying that I don’t have room for improvement and could make healthier choices for myself, no I’m not. Am I saying that ignorance veiled as motivation is wrong, I most certainly am.

But what I’m mostly saying is that you don’t need to be a jerk when sharing your opinion. We all have things we need to fix in our lives, in our bodies, in our hearts and in our brains. Sometimes these hurdles are massive and will take every single bit of strength that we possess, and no amount of tough love will push the majority of us over those hurdles. Fact is, they make many of us want to run in the opposite direction of what you’re “selling”.

Will mean words, quotes and Old Testament bible verses make someone less gay? Will beauty tips, jokes and rude memes make your perceived ugly person more beautiful in your eyes? Will stats about diabetes and heart disease, or pictures of people in bikinis and funny nicknames make me want to run to the gym? Will your strong personal opinions and preferences build up the people around you or push them farther into the walls that they’ve built up to protect them from all of the world’s nonsense? Think about those things before you take the time to “love someone better”.

MY weight doesn’t change YOUR quality of life. How someone LOOKS doesn’t change the number of days that you have on this earth. If your neighbour is gay, it doesn’t make YOUR faith in God or church any less personal. I am responsible for every choice that I make, and at some point, I will have to answer for them, whether it’s in a doctor’s office or at the Pearly Gates. But please recognize that those choices are MINE, and that your opinion of me and the rooftops that you scream them off will only affect your “end”, not mine.

We shouldn’t have to write posts to lift each other up because the world has judged us so harshly. Be nice, be kind and be an example. We are adults, not small children and need to remember to honour the differences that make us individuals. Live YOUR life to the best of your ability, and let me worry about the story I’m writing for myself. Send love, good wishes, and happy, healthy thoughts, but please keep the “judge-y love” packages to yourself.

Let love & grace be your witness, cause those are the things I want my life to be about.

Skinny is not a personality trait, it’s just packaging.








Mirror, Mirror

this mom's got something to say ...:

It’s been one of those weeks. Sharing as reminder to myself and you.

Originally posted on This Moms Got Something to Say:

Crooked Tooth.

Double Chin.

Messy Hair.


Huge Feet.

Too Fat.

These are the things that I see when I look in the mirror. These are the things that the world sees when they look at me. These are the things that I hate about myself, and sometimes they’re all that I see. But these things are not Me. Or are they?

My crooked tooth has been there my entire life. It is the one tooth that messes up my perfectly straight teeth. It has driven me crazy. FOREVER. But maybe it’s what gives me my super amazing singing voice, and helps me to bellow like an angel. Totally grasping here, obviously.

My Double Chin. Well, that seems to come and go. But it’s most definitely been there more often than it hasn’t. And now as I’m seeing less and less of it every day, it’s freaking me out a…

View original 693 more words

The Road to Skinny … Or Not.

The beginning of a new year brings about the desire for change. It pushes us to think about what we want that is better than what we currently have. It seems to make our eyes focus on all that is wrong with us, and not necessarily all that’s right. It’s the time of year that people seem to think and/or hope will set off this huge firecracker under their butts and in their minds that will cause them to jump up and change. It’s a fresh start and a new beginning.

For me, the new year forces me to focus on my never-ending trek towards “skinny”.  It’s this thing that follows me everywhere I go. It’s the thing I cannot seem to conquer. It’s quite literally the very large elephant in the room that just won’t die, no matter how hard I try. Or maybe not.

If I were to be totally honest, I don’t think I’ve ever cared enough to really want to change it. I’ve got a couple of months worth of willpower, and about 47 seconds of desire. I’ve got all the knowledge in the world, and an incredible team of people willing to support and help me, but somehow I’m also good with where I’m at. I’ve got a massive desire to shop in any store, and not just the stupid chubby girl shops, but for some reason, I’m okay with not trying all that hard to change.

I’m Fat and Happy, and I don’t think this is how I’m supposed to feel.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to be 6 sizes smaller. I’d like to be able to walk around the block without wanting to die. I like the idea of wearing shorts when it’s hot – no I NEVER wear shorts. I’d like to have more energy. I’d like my knees to not hurt. I’d love to sit outside in the summer and not want to die because I’m SO hot, which is a problem because as you know, I don’t wear shorts and fat people have a whole lotta extra insulation. I’d like to not have people give me the classic fat girl compliment, “You’ve got such a pretty face”, to me. Ever. Again. I’d like to be able to touch my toes, for no other reason to say that I can. I want to just take up less space.

So … where does that leave me? The Happy Fat Girl that want’s to be skinny, but doesn’t really care.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand how I truly feel about this subject, or if I’ll ever fully figure it out but I believe that it’s leading me somewhere. In some weirdo, round-a-bout backwards way, it’s taking me to what I really want and need. I want to be more focused. More centered and just more Me. I’m happy, but I want another level of happy. I want to be overflowing with Joy, so much so that it oozes from me and into the world around me. Skinny won’t accomplish that …. but I can.

2015 is going to be the Year of April. I’m going to write. I’m going to write about anything and everything and just write because I can. I’m going to spend time making my new blog fun and super successful. I’m going to move into a house that is exactly what our family needs. I’m going to fall back into mad love with my husband. I’m going to finally put all of my anxiety’s behind me, and step forward without worry about stupid things that I can not control. I’m going to focus on getting healthy and not care at all about skinny. Maybe a smaller size will follow, but whatever, I don’t care.

I’m excited about what’s to come and even more excited to figure out that my “Road to Skinny” is officially on a detour to somewhere totally different.

This road is officially leading to me.




Little Girl No More

We are sending you to the hospital to see if your baby is still alive.

That was how our story began.

My baby girl began fighting for her life when my pregnancy hit the 13 week mark. For 28 weeks, I lost amniotic fluid, suffered through pain and cramping and listened to horror stories of what I could possibly expect at her birth. I watched her grow through the screen of an ultrasound monitor at 13 different appointments. I listened to her hiccups and snoring through the fetal monitors that I was constantly being hooked up to. I waited and prayed and trusted that she would make it, in spite of all the things that were being spoken over her.

We made it to her due date and when I went into labour, if it could go wrong, it did. It was quickly discovered that I had placenta Previa and a placental abruption. She wouldn’t drop and I was losing blood at an alarming rate. More praying, more trusting and boom, we had a baby.

She was perfect, and huge and beautiful and did I mention perfect. She was not at all what the doctors predicted she would be. She fought to stay alive in utero, she fought to survive her birth, she fought me on everything from that point forward.


My little Micah Joy didn’t always live up to her name, and Joy wasn’t always something she was putting out there. She was headstrong and obstinate and did nothing that she didn’t want to do. She was bossy and determined and fearless. Thankfully, she was also sweet and kind and very helpful. She had the biggest brown eyes and one of the best smiles around. She truly was my little gift and miracle.

She didn’t always appreciate being a girl. Not because she wanted to be a boy but because she didn’t like girly stuff. She refused to wear any girly clothes, whether it be in style or colour. She had to have her hair cut super short, and she lived in track pants and Velcro runners. (Oh how I hated those outfits, but she was bound & determined to wear nothing else). She thought Barney was the most amazing show on TV, closely followed by Rescue Heroes and Wheel of Fortune. She ate dill pickles like candy and refused to eat ANY fruit, until she 12 years old.

At 2.5 years old, my Mom made her dress, she put it on and pouted for the whole 42 minutes that it was on her body. It so traumatized her that it took 15 years to convince her to put one on again. Thankfully she graduated or we might’ve had to wait until her wedding to see her in a dress.

At 5 years old, she discovered sports and there was no stopping her. Her first love quickly became softball, followed by ringette and basketball. If she wasn’t at school, she was on a field or in an arena somewhere. She was one of those kids that was just naturally blessed with athletic ability and it was so cool watching her try something new and excel.

As she grew older, we quickly came to appreciate her strong willed and determined personality. Through the years, she got stronger and stood up for herself and the people around her. She continued to do only what she wanted to do, and wasn’t pushed around by anyone. She held steadfast to her beliefs and morals and as a rule, she usually took the high road out of most situations.

She insists on making silly faces in almost all of her pictures. She does some of the weirdest things and laughs at other things that aren’t even remotely funny. She is adored by children everywhere she goes and her smile can still light up any room. She is goofy and loud and so much fun. She is her father and I rolled into one pretty cool being.

She has now graduated from high school, and is looking forward to all that lies ahead of her. I know that she will make wise decisions because she always has. She is way more reasonable and thoughtful than most kids her age. She is smart and witty, and has the same horrible sense of humor as her father. She lives in a baseball cap and a hoody, but that cannot hide how stunningly beautiful she is, which she of course, got from her mother.

She is everything and more that I could’ve ever hoped for in a daughter. She’s no longer my little baby but she is one of my closest friends. That little opinionated child has turned into an amazing person.

I love you Micah Joy. Thank-you for being such a great kid. I am so very, very proud of you. Now please stop piercing things and forget about a tattoo. xoxoxo





Expecting Something Different

I know that we’re supposed to forgive and forget, and for the most part I’m able to do that. Well, not so much the forget part, but I am pretty good at forgiving. You hurt me and/or my family, and sincerely ask for forgiveness and you will get it. What you won’t necessarily receive is trust and “forgetfulness”.

Problem is, so many times we expect people to react differently than how they always have. We assume that they are going to see our despair or disappointment and not do that again. But then it happens, again, and we just stand there and take it.

Who’s fault is that? Theirs or ours?

At what point should we stop accepting the same old, same old and demand better? When should we stand up and say, I love you but you can be a real jerk. What day do we look at ourselves in the mirror and decide that enough is enough and just walk away?

So often in life, we begin relationships with people and we fall so deeply in love, or like and life that we spend a lot of time turning the other cheek. We decide that there are so many awesome things about them that we can just accept these little quirks or differences. And usually, that’s okay.

Slurping soup, leaving laundry all over the floor, stealing your shoes, listening to crappy music or loving really dumb movies. Those things are okay … annoying as all get out, but okay. But when their fun is at your expense, or when their needs and desires are ALWAYS put ahead of yours, something is wrong.

Relationships won’t always be equal, but more often than not, they should be. There should be more joy than sorrow, more peace than strife and more team than leader and follower. You shouldn’t have to sit there waiting, and hoping and expecting people to become something different from how they’ve always been. It is possible, but it shouldn’t occur at the expense of you.

I want to say that’s it and that even though this relationship means so much to me, I need to matter too. I want to turn around and run away.

But I can’t.

I don’t want to give up on people. I want to continue to expect more. So instead of walking away, I’m choosing to hang on for hope and change and something better. But from now on, I’m done accepting treatment that is less than anything I deserve.

I will expect, but I will not accept.

Now where are you in this equation? What relationships in your world need to have a playing field levelled out? Fix them. We need each other.


Be encouraged Fatty. Bah.

I was just tagged in another one of those, supposed to be inspirational and kind posts written by a skinny person, giving me permission to be okay with being fat.

It’s not too different from the post written by the person working out in the gym that says, I see you and all your fatness working out, and you’re so awesome. Keep it up.

Which is quite similar to the posts telling me not to let my weight get me down, and that I’ve got such a pretty face that my size doesn’t really matter. (I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve been told this one).

Sigh. I hate those posts. I hate those comments. And this is why.

They’re stupid and they shouldn’t need to even be written.

People’s sizes and/or appearance shouldn’t be the fodder for your next “make yourself feel better” post.

Sure, I suppose the thought behind them is to be one of encouragement and acceptance, but that’s not what they’re saying at all. They’re saying … I see you as a fat person, first and foremost. The FIRST thing you saw when you looked at your subject matter was that they were Fat. And that ONE FACTOR alone inspired you to write a whole commentary about them. That is what makes me mad and sad and annoyed. Fat isn’t all that I am.

Yes, you spotted me in a gym, but I’m pretty sure there are lots of other people there too. Do you make comments about the super skinny girl who can do nothing but ride bikes because she doesn’t have a lot of muscle mass. Do you feel inspired to write about the guy that is “normal” sized but just came to the gym for the first time in his life? Probably not because frankly, their “stories” aren’t as obvious and easy to pick out.

Why can’t you just look around the room and think, Wow, there’s a lot of people here today working on getting healthy and then go about your own workout without waxing poetic?

I don’t go to the hairdresser and comment about the lady with the horribly whacked out hair with more grey roots than blonde flowing locks. I’m not all “I see you with the sad and desperate hair coming to the salon with it all hidden in a ball cap. It’s okay, I understand. I’m happy that you’re stepping up to fix that mess”.

I don’t go for a pedicure and then come home and write a post about the lady with the horrible cracked heels, and hairy toes. “I see you and your slovenly feet, all tired and dirty and forlorn. I know how embarrassed you must’ve been to leave your house this morning to come here. But thank-you for being brave enough to come”.

Yes, those things are stupid, but there’s no difference.

Look at me as a person, not as a shape or a colour, but as a person. If, by some miracle I ever get up and go to the gym, don’t look at me as the fat chick. Look at me as one of your peers that is taking the same steps as you.




Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 789 other followers