Happy Canadaversary

Exactly one year ago, my dog and I came to Canada. Mold in my home displaced me, so I ended up moving to be with my husband before we anticipated. How have I been the past year?

Well let’s see. I married my best friend, became a stepmother, and now have an awesome family. I got my permanent residency. Per my last post, I’ve found that I don’t mean as much to some people as I thought. It’s a lot colder here. I’ve been treated like absolute shit by my stepchildren’s mother. I’ve been treated incredibly by everyone else. I had a horrible job, then got a really great one. I’m a lot less stressed. I’m healthy and happy. I’ve learned a lot. I’ve grown as a person.

Canada looks good on me. I’m thankful that I had the ability to pack it all up to be able to be with my husband so that we could have a new life together. Happy Camadaversary. It’ll be nice growing old here.

Move On and Let Go

If you ever want to know how much you do or don’t mean to someone, move.

Since moving to Canada and marrying my husband, my life has been infinitely better. My stress levels have been immensely reduced. I’m healthy. Hell, I’m actually happy. I can’t recall a period of time in my life prior to this where I was genuinely happy. It’s nice to finally feel comfortable in life. Sure finances could be better and it’d be nice for it to be less of a struggle for my husband to get time with his children. But in the grand scheme of things, my life is pretty stress free by comparison. It’s given me a lot of focus and ability to evaluate things that are important to me.

Of all of the people I thought I was close to in the US, only three people put forth as much effort into our relationship as I do: my dad, my old boss, and the friend I gave a surprise visit to last month. That’s it. I have one other friend that moved to Georgia a couple years prior to my moving here. We touch base on occasion in the same frequency that we always have since she moved first, so I suppose she counts too. Beyond that? I’ve found that I mean a lot less to others than they did to me. It was a harsh reality to face. I realized there were people that I tried to nurture and continue friendships with that it was only me trying. The last few weeks I stopped being the first one to reach out to those I cared about. Did many notice? Nope.

What’s frustrating is all of these people are on social media. I see them active in Messengers, posting statuses or whatever, but can’t take 5 minutes to simply say hi. It hurt figuring out that I wasn’t worth 5 minutes to many people. Especially since most of them knew about my father’s recent grim medical diagnosis. No one bothered to check up on it. And I guess when your self absorbed, narcissistic, asshole of a dad cares more about you than some of the people you’ve poured your heart and soul into, it makes you realize that maybe it’s time to stop clinging to what once was and embrace the present and bravely move forward.

Its tough. I’m a creature of habit. I always thought that I hated change, but moving to another country was a huge one. Getting married was a big change. Changing jobs – twice – were major. Maybe letting go of people who don’t show the same kind of care to me that I have to them is a change I need to embrace too. I still have the aforementioned couple of people back home that care for me. I have a great family here (albeit by marriage.) And I’ve started making new friends too.

Maybe moving forward isn’t so scary after all.

Til Ikea Do Us Part

“In sickness and in health, til death do us part.”

Maybe there should be something about insanity and Ikea added in there.

My husband and I live in a small, but comfortable, two bedroom home. Here they’re called suites, back home it’d be considered a duplex or a mother-in-law apartment. The house was finished being built about a year and a half ago, the price can’t be beat, and our landlady is amazing. The downfall is that my husband has 3 children, so things can be a little cramped when they’re home here.

When we decided to lease this place, I started the hunt for some furniture for the kids. I opted for the Tuffing bunkbed from Ikea. It holds twin sized mattresses, but is also short and low to the ground – tall bunks make me nervous from a safety standpoint. Plus, of the two bedrooms, one is quite a bit smaller than the other. We’ve had the two older kids in the smaller room and the youngest in our room, which was fine, but limited their play spaces. This weekend we opted to change the arrangements around and put all three kiddos into the larger room, giving my husband and I the smaller of the two so that the kids have more room to play, even with their little brother’s bed in there too. The final result is fantastic, but it was certainly an adventure getting there.

As I mentioned above, the Tuffing bed is great because it holds twin mattresses instead of kid sized ones and it’s fairly low to the ground. (I can make up the top bed without having to climb up there.) The downfall? It’s a major pain in the ass to put together. Even bigger downfall? It’s an even bigger pain in the ass to take apart and reassemble. But we did it. There was blood. But we did it. There was cussing. But we did it.

We did it.

And you know what? It gave me this odd sense of added security in our marriage. My husband and I have always worked well together, communicated efficiently, and BOTH put a lot of effort into our marriage. Tearing down a large piece of Ikea furniture ad reconstructing it together with minimal issue feels like an odd token of our ability to work together. Take that Ikea!

I hope the kids enjoy their new space as we try to save up for the ability to move into a larger home in the future ❤️

Surprise!

On Monday, I embarked on a two day drive back to Kentucky. One if my closest and dearest friends went through a major life event that I wanted to support and show some love for.

The drive was exhausting. It’s a little over 1500 miles one way. My husband made that journey multiple times while we were dating long distance. It made me appreciate him so much more than I already do. Seriously. The drive sucked so bad. It was long, boring, and the last half of it was filled with a storm and heavy traffic. My husband did this many many times. Through rain, snow, and Lord knows what else. It was exhausting and I couldn’t imagine doing it multiple times no matter how much I loved someone. I would have flown if I were him. But it just makes me appreciate him so much more.

My friend had no idea I was coming. I coordinated everything with her other half and kept him up to date with my trip progression and arrival time. I parked a couple houses down with a gift in tow and he snuck me in the house. As I entered the house, her oldest daughter looked up and nearly squealed. I pushed my finger up, telling her to be quiet, and proceeded down the hall. “Ya know, the next time I decide to hand deliver a gift, I’m going to fly.” She was stunned and couldn’t believe her eyes. It was perfect. I enjoy making people that I care about feel loved. While I miss my home and my husband deeply, this adventure was important to me.

The next day, I got some work done on my car prior to selling her then proceeded to head to my old stomping ground of ten years. I wanted to see some of my coworkers, one of which is also one of my closest friends. They’ve got downtown torn up, so navigation was problematic. Plus, you couldn’t get down to security headquarters in the same ways you used to be able to, so I wasn’t sure how to get through the locked doors. So I went down to the other security office and started banging on the door. The look of surprise was a good feeling, and I secured an escort through the building for myself. We meandered down the back halls and made way to my old office. I really wanted to see my old managers. One looks more aged than I remembered, stressed from all of the company changes. My other was super excited and surprised. We had lunch together for old times sake, which was nice. I think I made him feel important. I hope so.

Eventually I sold my car. Not for as much as I’d like to, but I got it out of the way. Now I’m packed up and trying to rest a little before flying back to Canada in the morning.

This trip taught me something. Even though I miss a couple of friends, this place isn’t home. My birthplace doesn’t feel like home either. Canada. Canada is home and it’s the first time I’ve felt like that in a very very long time. I finally feel like I belong somewhere. And that’s an overwhelming, but secure, feeling.

Super Dad

Y’all.

My head has been pounding most of the day. It’s been an exhausting weekend. I’m not sure if they’re feeling off or if something happened before they were dropped off to us, but the kids have been in a crabby and erratic mood most of the weekend. It’s abnormal. Like the twilight zone. Like night and day. It’s been rough.

Somehow my husband has been magically hanging in there keeping the household ship afloat whilst I’m trying to take a nap. It’s not working great because the youngest is still squealing, but at least it’s a giggly squealing now. He’s been in that phase recently where if he doesn’t get what he wants or isn’t picked up, he just starts screaming. According to the other two kids, their mother just gives into it and gives him what he wants to make him quiet down. I hope that isn’t the case, as I really don’t want him to grow up thinking if he throws a fit he will get what ever he wants.

Anywho back to Super Dad! I’m a bit of a control freak when it comes to our household. I do the meal planning, budgeting, scheduling and all that. He just sits back and enjoys the ride since he’s been the one who had to do all of that on his own for years. I needed a break today to ride out this headache before it turns into a full on migraine. I know I struggle with just doing things myself and not asking for help. But he’s gone above and beyond to do all the things I would normally do. And without a single complaint. He’s got board games and story time going, keeping everyone relatively occupied and happy….and without the use of screens! It’s been good for the kids to have one on one time with Dad too. He’s been able to pick up the ball that I usually roll and is keeping it going no differently than how I would.

And ya know. That’s something I feel like every couple should be able to do. Give and take. But it’s not always 50/50. Sometimes its gotta be 60/40, 80/20, hell sometimes even 98/2. Thanks for being my better half today my dear.

Super Dad to the rescue!!

Stepmother’s Day

I am a childless mom and motherless. That sentence is incredibly hard to share. My own mother was a pillar of physical and mental abuse when I was a child. My step mom meant the world to me even though I didn’t get to see her as often as I’d have liked as a child. And after a multitude of miscarriages, full time motherhood was not the in cards for me. My husband did, however, share three beautiful children with me. Though I did not bring them into this world, I would do almost anything to make them happy and safe. My love for them did not begin from the womb. My love for them began by choice from the heart. It doesn’t make me any less than a mom.

My oldest step son made me a card for mother’s day, but I don’t think he knew how to get it here to his dad’s house. I can’t fault him for it and I desperately wish things could be a little more civil. I wish he felt he could be more open with the relationship he has with me instead of feeling like he has to hide. But it is what it is. It breaks my heart that he curls up in our arms in tears every time he has to go back to his mom’s, begging to be able to stay a little longer. I just tell him that I know how he feels, that daddy and I love him, and that daddy works hard to try to be able to spend as much time with him as he can. I won’t lie, sometimes it’s hard not to tell him it’s because his mother won’t work with us on scheduling and that almost every request for extra time with the kids he has made has been denied. But we can’t. We must never place blame or speak poorly, no matter how true it may be.

Despite not being able to see the kids for mother’s day (which is fine,) they made a point to make sure that I knew I was loved and appreciated. They asked their dad if they could pick out a present and card for me. They picked everything out themselves and it was beautiful. I cried. A lot. It’s amazing how tiny little hands can cradle your entire world.

And I made sure to send my step mom a card and called her as well. Because she deserved it.

So to all the stepmom’s out there, I see you. I feel you. I understand you. And your kids may not understand right now the lengths you go to be the duct tape that keeps the family wheel moving smoothly, but I know. I feel that deep in my soul. Hang in there. It gets easier. ❤️

Happy stepmother’s day

Agnostic Acceptance

I’ve been out for a bit! I took some time to recover from my first experience with the Canadian health care system. In addition to recovering, I also started a new job and am learning the ropes.

Anywho! Last weekend, I got a text from a dear friend asking if I’d like to bring my step daughter over for a small religious ceremony. I was so honored. I don’t hide that some days I’m an agnostic and some days I’m an athiest, all depending on how I feel. Despite not having any beliefs of my own, I feel that it’s an honor to be thought of by others. Spirituality is a very intimate thing. Or well… It’s supposed to be. Merry Christmas? Happy Hanukkah? Happy Kwanza? Happy whatever? Great! Thanks for being thoughtful! I don’t understand why people get so irritated and intolerable.

So I wasn’t entirely sure of the holiday or significance. My friend said she just had some prayers honoring children, and she gives out gifts. It was her son, her friend and granddaughter, then my step daughter and I. We joined in her prayer room, was fed a bite, had red thread tied around our wrists, and the kids received some gifts. After, we had lunch, which consisted of Indian bread, chick peas, something that reminded me of cream of wheat, and tea. It was a lovely time. Turns out that the red thread is a tradition of Hindu to ward off bad things. I’d always wondered! The prayers themselves were beautiful. I have no idea what my friend was saying, but she said her prayers with compassion and conviction. You could feel the energy and warmth flowing throughout the room. Plus the prayer room was ornate and full of vibrant reds and yellows. It was truly a pleasure!

I don’t understand why people get in such a tizzy about religions that aren’t theirs. So long as someone isn’t harming others, why is it any of my business what you believe in? So long as I encourage those around me to be wholesome and good, why does it matter that I don’t believe in anything?

I wish people had more tolerance for other beliefs.