Like Mother, Like Daughter…for reals

So like most angst ridden teenagers I was 100% adamant that I was nothing like my mom growing up. 

Like 1000% sure. 

I loved tattoos, piercings, weird hair colour and clothes. I mean, I was super edgy and unique (insert eye roll).

As I got older I was even more convinced of my separateness, especially when I birthed little humans, I thought I’m so progressive, I’m going to forge my own motherhood path with little to no need for my mom’s advice & her not so subtle probing that I was doing it all wrong.

I most likely was.

We butt heads, we argued, we went without speaking for small snippets of time, born from pure stubbornness on both our parts which should have been an inkling of the similarities.

But see, when she passed last November it wasn’t until now that I realize how fecking similar we actually were. 

Let that one digest for a titch.

All you daughters out there who think you couldn’t possibly be like your mom. You are so very very wrong. 

I volunteered to write my mom’s eulogy for her Celebration of Life which was equal parts an honour, and terrifying as shit. 

Would I have a complete melt down and ugly cry in front of all those people? Would anyone get the jokes? Should I even tell jokes? Can I swear in church? Would I be able to sum up her life and do her justice in just a few short minutes? 

A fair bit of pressure, yes, but I wanted to do it for her. It was something I could do that she would have done for me.

The perfectionist in me also wanted to hit it out of the park. I mean, if you can’t nail a eulogy, what good are you?

When I looked back on her life, I began to see the patterns we shared. Now, my mom loved God and hated when I swore and her personalty was definitely unique and diverse to mine, that’s not quite what I mean by patterns. Our likeness was more in our actions.

Firstly, when I would look at old photos I noticed she had attended a crazy amount of costume events in her life, and well, um, hello, yes. She loved a stiff drink and full blown dance parties well into the night…again…me!

Secondly, she loved getting dolled up, creating a full matching ensemble from the shoes to the bag to the jewelry, a cosmetician for many years, she repped some great brands and had more makeup then me – it’s true people!

I spend an exorbitant amount of time doing my hair, and nails are done once a week. The hair stylist in me would never to leave for a trip without a curling iron, blasphemy, and you can catch me every Sunday in the summer mulling over the right shade of red lipstick to wear to baseball. I had essentially turned into my mom and didn’t even realize it.

In fact the one thing I asked for from her belongings was her 1970’s Manhattan makeup case that sits in my living room on display and comes with me for every overnight trip. It’s heavy, satin lined and fits all my stuff perfectly.

It’s my prized possession.

Thirdly, I found similarities on the crafty front. Mom’s creativity was something I took for granted and honestly I didn’t think too much about growing up. She would sew, and tole paint, knit and do needlepoint but I didn’t give it a passing glance if I’m being honest.

I thought I was ‘so cool’ with my graphic design and computer skills (insert second very large eye roll), but nope, we were the same, it’s just the medium that changed. In another life I would be crocheting plant hangers and whipping up barbie outfits just like her.

Since she passed I’ve actually taken up the old timey cross stitch which I never thought I would, but I actually love. It makes me feel close to her when I sit down and spell out ‘Fuck’ surrounded by pretty flowers. She would HATE that my patterns are silly and contain multiple swear words, but it’s that teenager in me that smiles when I work on them, knowing she is shaking her head very ‘mom like’ at me wherever she is.

I feel such sadness that I never got to tell her how proud of her I was, or how proud I am that I turned out so much like her. Maybe she saw it. Maybe she figured it out well before me and knew I would never really ‘get it’ until later on. I like to think she did.

It’s super trippy to take a minute and extricate yourself as the daughter to your mother. To think of our moms as a person independent from us, how crazy similar we actually are. It is a comforting idea that my own daughter will carry a little bit of me in her through her life, and you know, not end up in jail one day.

I hope.

I love me a good Futurama bit.

a wee feminist rant (you’re welcome)

The other week I read a tweet about the term ‘Girl Boss’ and how we should rethink the usage of it, what it really implies. I mean it’s not like my husband refers to himself as a ‘Man Boss’. Imagine? You think guys would wear a shirt that said #dadboss! 

Not a chance.

I hadn’t thought about it before but then it stuck in my brain on repeat. Why as women do we need to give ourselves labels to feel powerful or validated. I am a boss, I am a girl, but why shouldn’t I just say yup I’m a boss. I’m awesome. Who gives a fuck if I’m a girl? I am also not a ‘girl’ anymore. I am a woman. There is much wrong with this term.

Which spiralled into my strong dislike for the term ‘Mom-preneur’. Sure I’m a mom, and a business owner but why do I have to label myself as one? Who gives a fuck that I’m a mom if I can sustain self-employment for 10 years? The two aren’t related at all. Men would never do this. Again, Dad-preneur? Nope. No one says that. Ever.

I totally support other mothers in their quest for greatness, I completely do, but firstly I support the woman. The fact that they have a baby isn’t relevant to me. I feel like some women use it as some sort of exclusive club. Like in order to be a strong independent business woman, ready to multitask and sustain a great living as an entrepreneur, well, of corse ‘moms’ must do it best because they are running on zero sleep, making kids lunches, picking gum out of jimmy’s hair while having conference calls and developing marketing strategies as a kid sucks on your boob. 

I get it. It’s hard. I went back to work with both kids after like 2-3 weeks off work. But I never wanted the fact that I’m a mom define my professional life or who I was as a person. In fact I hated that suddenly I wasn’t myself anymore, I was a ‘mom’. I love being a mother, don’t get me wrong, but being one has zero to do with my ability to build website for a Growth Marketing firm, or develop an instagram storyline for a Cystic Fibrosis charity, or write 4 books as a hobby.

I know a TON of women without kids who work way harder then myself and I know a crap load of moms who work harder then everyone combined. It should not matter. They are all equally as awesome. And some are jerks, but that’s a whole other story.

No one avenue is the better choice. You have to be you. You have to do you. You have to be true to you.

I have a lot more to say about this but I need to get back to work as do all the females who are still reading this because I certainly can tell you that not one man read past the Dad-Boss comment :) Happy Thursday ladies!

The Procrastinator Files Something!

I think it’s probably a fair statement to say that I am a terrible procrastinator. Now that statement shouldn’t be confused with lazy or messy or uninspired. It just means that when I have to complete a task that I hate such as emptying the dishwasher or doing my taxes, or organizing my closet, well, let’s just say that I need a hefty push (or kick) in the ass.

It came about yesterday as I was sorta cleaning my office desk, very half heartedly and only because I need to find Finn’s baptism certificate ASAP. I came across two items that made me think: you are an adult, get your SHIT together. One was a new credit card that I received in 2014 and had yet to activate, the other was a health card which I recall a nurse providing for me telling me that it is IMPERATIVE that I enter my kids immunizations online for whatever reason…and that was from 2014 as well.

Let me preface that over the weekend a friend found it hilarious that I always have food on hand to entertain spur of the moment, or just in general she has no idea where I store anything because our house is so small. The bottom line is that I hate clutter, I dump to goodwill regularly and viciously. But there are some things I just put off until I have a melt down like yesterday and realize I need to get something done. It was time.

That something was a big metal container that I have on top of my filing cabinet in my only closet, in which I have thrown every bill, every child project, everything papery from over a year ago. I didn’t even properly file it during tax time. I took out the right documents and then shoved them back in the container and back into the closet.

Well last night I made that closet my bitch. I ripped everything out of it, and cleaned out my paperwork. YES I DID!

So some interesting things I found caused me to write this list today…


  • My dogs file was the  biggest file inside of my cabinet. I kept every vet bill since 2005 and those who know my dog know how many bills that would be, prob 100 sheets of paper inside that baby (and countless visa statements – GAH).
  • Troys TWO birth certificates because it was so cluttered before we had to get a new one done up – but now we have two baby!
  • Finn’s baby book – check! Wren’s uh…Wren’s…holy shit did I not do one for her? Quick hide Finn’s we shall never speak of this again.
  • Two DVD/Blue Ray players that we have never used…one is gone to goodwill, we kept the other, the reason I am still unclear but it seemed wasteful.
  • A perfectly good printer that was only used to hold my slouchy boots…gone.
  • A box for every electronic we own – does anyone else do this? We had an apple TV box, Mac Air box, Kobo Box, Acer tablet box..I mean why are we keeping the boxes?
  • Along side that we had a box of remotes from TV’s, and other DVD players we no longer even own. Apparently DVD players are like toilet paper to us.
  • I found my old businesses cheque book which has been out of use since 2008 but for some reason I kept a zillion non useable cheques.
  • A birthday gift I bought for my great friend Rosie from last JUNE. I’m not sure I can still call her a good friend after that shitty stunt on my part. I suck.
  • A four foot high stack of kids crafts from birth to now. Next weeks organizing task.
  • A fog horn – what the?
  • A glass skate beer mug we stole from a bar during the olympics which I think Finn has now stolen from me because he was eyeing it and I can’t find it anywhere.
  • A suit bag – like for business suits. Why we have this I have no idea?
  • A canada saving bond I got as a gift 23 years ago.
  • And finally (drum roll) we found Finn’s baptism certificate! Now he won’t be kicked out of catholic school for terrible heathen parents who can’t even find a basic document that prob should be in it’s own folder with a sticker telling me where to find it…wait a minute…whips our sticker and new file folder…now I can!

Dear Diary

So, a number of weeks ago, my gorgeous british bombshell friend, Rosie, bought me a book – a diary type book. I’ve had it perched on my desk for weeks now, because it’s pretty and matched my gold objects office fetish. But today I decided yes I am NOT using it for a pretty prop, or even for a boring work notebook — I am going to use an actual pen and write stuff in it old school! Yes, I am now writing to Dear Diary…

Dear Diary

So after 3/4 page written, my hand hurt. My freaking fingers ached. So that made me think, when was the last time I wrote something, by hand? Honestly I can’t remember. I’m assuming it was a note to Finn’s teacher, or perhaps a to-do list for Troy? Or more likely a packing list for one of our weekend jaunts. This made me sad.

These days it’s way easier to type, text, video blog, skype, instagram, snapchat (even though I don’t know what that is), join a what’s app group (detroit tailgating whoop!), or just tweet your life to the masses about dumb things like I do.

Whatever your choice of communication is, typically it does not involve poor Mr. Pen and Paper. They’ve become the sad relics of yesteryear, left behind in the land of misfit toys. Last night I watched Finn write note after note about nonsense and realize my 6YO writes more then I do. That’s sad.

This week I read Fangirl, which right away I obsessed over, specifically the protagonist chick Cath, holing up in her dorm room writing fanfiction on her laptop. But in strolls a guy from her writing class, who still wrote in a scribbler. A scribbler! Who could do that these days? As I writer myself, I can’t even fathom using an ancient typewriter, although I secretly fantasize about doing just that. Perhaps your words would have more girth, more meaning, you wouldn’t be blathering on about shit all in a blog post. Opps.

When Cath tried the notebook and pen method, she wanted to cut and paste, the amount of time to write longhand far outweighing a laptops quick and effortless story production. Her frustration was obvious and relatable. I typically find myself, on a daily basis, mentally Command ‘Z’ing when I want to erase something. Occupational hazard I guess. Keyboard shortcuts are my life.

Ok so this post really doesn’t have much of a point, and I ‘should’ be working and Command ‘C’ing the crap out of everything, but felt it an interesting question to ask my readers: have you written anything lately? (and does anyone think of the Wedding Singer when I wrote that question?)


West Elm curtains are my best friend

I’ve been on a curtain rampage like a zillion times looking for something new to update my rooms. Call me nuts as I know some (or most) of you will, but it’s a bit of an obsession for me.

I’ve been to all the big box stores, and I HATE them all. They’re cheap, the patterns are typically lame (please no more embroidered florals), the fabric mostly cheapy (no more sateen, NO!) and my living room requires over 100 inches in length due to the high ceilings which leave me frustrated beyond belief when I’ve found one I sort of like and they are all 84 inches – grrrr. I’ve always gravitated to IKEA for this reason and I have about 7 different colours of the infamous grommet IKEA numbers.

I’ve done it all, and this is what I’ve discovered. I will only ever get a curtain custom made, or buy from West Elm. So much so that this winter I woke up in complete frustration, chucked Wren in the car, drove straight into the city, bought my curtains and picked up and left immediately to avoid traffic on this 90 min commute. So in  my inbox this morning, they are having a sale and I thought I would share some of my favourites from the glorious West Elm.


In my living room and I adore these, the fabric is thick for privacy and I can see the design from outside which I equally love.


Who doesn’t love stripes?


Ikat is a bit of an obsession for me.


Another ikat and this is in my kitchen :)


These were a close second to the living room scribble design.


So pretty.


Awesome for summer.


I have these in my bedroom, got them on sale at end of season, I love them inside or out.