My Guardian Angel Was A Teeny Bopper...

So back in 2004, I was raising my kids on my own after escaping the Militia. Sorry, I shouldn’t joke about that...It wasn’t the Militia, it was my ex-husband. But trust me, depending on the day and the way the wind blows, they can be confused. 

I had hightailed it out of my abusive marriage a year before and he had cut me off financially, in order to “smoke me out” he said. Make me “come to my senses” and “get the hell back home where I belong”. I had no money and I was broken. My brother in law let me stay in his townhouse that was available at the time in Ontario. I was still on maternity leave and had to make the decision to go back to work in Montreal. It was a crazy year of driving and white knuckling the steering wheel while driving through snowstorms with 2 little kids every single day.  

One of my best friends called me and told me that he felt I had to come back to Montreal, back where they could help me more and be a support system to me. He found me a place to live. It wasn’t cheap and would most likely gobble up all my paycheck, but it was worth it in, my mind, to be close to them. We moved into this house in a nice area. We were on the bottom floor of a duplex. It had nice wood floors and freshly painted walls that were this beautiful butter yellow and the kids would have their own big rooms. I, on the other hand, had to turn the front porch into a bedroom for myself. It was right on the road! Oh yes, it was interesting to say the least. If anyone tried to come in the front door while I was sleeping, they would be joining me under the sheets. I’m not gonna lie, I could have run a very profitable little business right off the street into my boudoir, but I didn’t. I’m just kidding! But am I? Oh, hell yes. I had a 2-year-old and a 4-year-old, no energy and a pot belly to deter me from doing that. So, unfortunately, being a hooch would have to go on the back burner for the time being. 

You’d think that being back home, back at work and having a regular schedule would have been good for me. Structure, right? Sadly, I kept sinking deeper and deeper into a depression. I would put the kids to bed right after supper in order to fall apart. I knew I had to get into therapy and fast. But how? My friends already helped me so much. How could I ask them to watch the kids again while I try and fix myself? Maybe someone knew a good babysitter? 

Oh, sweet Kayla, I think back now, and wonder was going on in your head and what you were thinking all those years ago when you came into my house to watch the kids for me. What kind of a mess was I? I never thought about it until now because you were always so sweet and so accepting and nothing was ever a problem for you. Well...not nothing really. Barf and mice were a problem, but I will get to that later. 

I explained to you that Jack made lots of noise while he slept and that unless he called out for her, she should just leave him and listen for him on the monitor. The kids were asleep, and she could just watch TV. I came home 2 hours later and walked in the house and into the leaving room. Kayla was lying on the couch and Jack was fast asleep on her chest and they were cuddled under a blanket. I stood in the doorway and looked at her with my swollen raccoon eyes (yes, it was a good session) and thought, if I had any tears left, they would be rolling down my cheeks. I knew right away how special she was. That was the beginning of my relationship with Kayla and where my journey to getting help for all my scars began.  

  

She came to the house every week and the kids quickly fell in love with her. We would have great talks and would always laugh about the upstairs neighbor and wondered if she was in a marching band and held their practice there or if the TLC show My 600lbs life was being filmed upstairs. It was brutal! 

Once I started to feel better and the meds kicked in, I was ready to get in shape. A friend of mine was using a personal trainer, let's call him Satan, and she said that I could join the group. Kayla offered to come and watch the kids while I “worked out”. No, this wasn’t working out. This was bullshit. Do you know what a burpee is?! These are no laughing matter. They should have been called barfees! Have you ever worked out before while gagging? Do you have any idea what that looks like!? I have flashbacks to this day. He’s standing over me yelling at me to do a pushup. “Lift yourself off the ground”! “Come on! Higher''! Higher? Please keep in mind that my arms are completely extended at this point! I’m higher than a tree planter in B.C! Poor guy, when he saw this his face dropped. He realized I was ‘up’ and what remained on the ground, without effort, was my stomach and boobs. Our eyes lock, Fu@%ker! To this day we have a love hate relationship. 

Then out comes the Kettle Bell. Kettle Ball? Kettle Bomb? Whatever it was, I still to this day get a twitch when I see one. That finished me off. I was seeing stars. And not the good kind like back in college when...uh, maybe I’ll save that one for another blog. So, ya, stars. I tapped out and quickly realized that I couldn’t walk. I mean, I actually couldn’t walk. What the f#@k was I going to do? I had the kids and the babysitter, and I had to somehow get them home. Panic set in. 

All I remember was me staggering over to Kayla and seeing her face drop in horror at the sight of me. I looked like I had been lost in the desert for weeks. Parched, cracked lips, sweaty and as red as a tomato. Do you have a visual? Good, now add to that visual. Add in some intermittent heaving. There was no question in my mind, she was ‘shook’. I was barely able to get the words out.  “Kayla, I know this sounds scary and you are only 16 years old and don’t have a license but I’m going to need you to drive this car with us in it home”. If you knew her you can now just imagine her big eyes looking up at me terrified. Her sweet little voice saying “But I can’t. I don’t know how to drive”.  

Don’t worry! I didn’t make her drive, but we did have to stay put for a very long time for me to catch my breath, rehydrate and crush back a half a dozen Tylenol. 

Kayla became my saviour through the years. With her, I was able to have those moments to seek help, fall apart, get together with friends for grown up time and later, through the years even go on some terrible dates.  

I have so many amazing memories of Kayla but there are two memories of her that we still talk about and have a good laugh. I went to Ottawa for the day to meet my boyfriend's parents (BK- *before Kev). I got this panicked phone call and I excused myself from the dinner table. By the sound of her voice I thought something terrible had happened to one of the kids...She was in a full panic and in tears. She would get a few words out and then she would let out this high-pitched scream. When she was finally able to get her words out, she said “There’s... a ...mouse in... your ...house! And we just trapped it in your bedroom”!  Oh, wait, what!!? Seriously!? Shit, thanks a lot!!!!  

She was hyperventilating and all 3 of them were standing on top of the couch and the kids were crying so loudly in the background mixing with Kayla’s heavy breathing over the phone. All I could do was laugh. Please note, that I did NOT sleep in my room for weeks and when I did go in for clothes, it was on my tiptoes squealing. I sounded like Mariah Carey hitting those high notes. 

Another one for the books was this one time that Kayla was watching the kids and Jack came down with the stomach flu. She called to tell me that he was sick and so I came home right away. When I pulled up into the driveway she was sitting on the front steps with Grace and Jack. I walked up to them and asked what they were doing outside? Kayla just looked at me and said “Ummm, we needed fresh air”. I walked into the house and stopped dead. What I saw looked like a quadruple homicide had taken place in the house. There were blankets and towels covering mounds of god knows what all over the floor scattered throughout the house. Kayla walked in behind me with half her face inside her sweater, looked up at me and said 

 “I’m so sorry, I just can’t do barf, so I just covered it up every time he was sick”! We laughed for years over that and thankfully, Kayla and the stomach flu weren’t ever in the house again at the same time. 

Kayla started to date and to ‘get a life’...a social life, a boyfriend and all things that kept her busy and not always available to babysit as often as she used to.  

Sooooo, we tried a new babysitter. Uh, so, I’d like to take this opportunity, if you are reading this *unnamed babysitter*  

“I am SO sorry for how my children treated you. Spitting in your face and kicking you in the shins and screaming repeatedly in your face “we want Kayla” was wrong and I DID punish them for it”. 

Kayla is now a new Mom and we still keep in touch. I have watched her grow up over the years and she has watched me heal. I will never be able to thank her enough for her support and love for me and my children.  

Guardian angels come in all forms. Mine just happened to be a Teeny Bopper. 

Is Pole Dancing In My Future?

I have spent the last 15 years sore and tired. Literally. When I tell you that I have been to every type of doctor and tried every gimmick in the hopes of getting my life back I would not be exaggerating.

As bad as the fatigue was or the weight gain and swelling or the lack of energy, dealing with Fibromyalgia was the worst of it. I had chronic pain and was suffering with depression…All the time. Silently most days.

Walking a short distance was like dragging my body through a desert. I haven’t been able to exercise at all and don’t “move” much anymore. When a friend of mine started telling me about these vitamin thingies, a shake and a patch there was a heavy eye roll as yet another pyramid product was out there and to me, another let down for something that didn’t work.

What got me was her saying “It gives me too much energy so I had to cut the shake in half”. 
Too much energy!??? Is that like too much sunshine? Too much money??

She got me…my interest was piqued. I’m in the market for too much energy.

My box of product arrived and I ripped that sucker open and laid it out on the counter for the next morning. I was scared to get my hopes up. It sounds dramatic but I no longer felt like I was living. I might live to be 80 but I felt like I was slowly dying. Every movement and getting out of bed took everything in me to do.

I woke up in the morning and took the 2 pills (vitamin thingies) waited 20 minutes and mixed the shake with water and then slapped on my patch. I ordered the supped up patches that have a mood enhancer. Your welcome family ;)  I didn’t expect to feel any different right away as these things probably take time, if ever. I'm such a skeptic. It was a matter of hours when I realized that I was walking normally. I forgot what that felt like. Nothing hurt. I tried not to cry as I didn’t want this to go away. 

Day 3 I felt alive again. I have energy, my body doesn’t hurt and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. 

Day 5 my husband just laughs at me…”Who are you”?

Day 10 which was a Sunday, my only day off. Usually, I wake up, drag my ass to the living room, crawl into the corner of the couch with a big blanket, and shut down. I sip tea and watch trash on TV with all the intentions to clean, do laundry, groceries and prep for the week and perhaps, even put on pants. That never happens. This time, I woke up before the dogs and jumped in the shower. I put pants on, went out to breakfast and then shopping, and came home to cook a big batch of sauce to freeze. Wait, what?

Day 12 I’m a believer. Don’t ask me the science behind it! You can read about that and make your own interpretation. I have always known that I was deficient in vitamins and minerals but hated the 50 bottles of supplements I had to store and more importantly to remember when to take them. Which I never did! Hence, the shut down and ‘Pant less Sundays’. I'm sure it's a thing and I didn't make it up.

My biggest revelation? I haven’t been sad since I started on this. I wasn't always sad about anything in particular. Just life. It's been a tough one. I've lost a lot in the last year and yet...I'm good. Who would of thought? 

I have 2 jobs, 2 dogs, 2 kids and a husband and no extra time on my hands, so I won’t be filling my social media trying to get you all to join me but if you are curious click the link below. I don’t have a group page but if you order, I get credits towards my purchase. And if you get friends to join, you get free stuff too.  Ah! I see the pyramid playing out in my head now. Did I mention I am blonde AND tired? #deadlycombination
So that’s it! I actually have no clue what is in this stuff and should probably educate myself! I will get on that right away.

It’s expensive as hell (considering I'm a cheap ass) and I may need to start stripping to pay for it but at least I will have the energy to swing around the pole.

Wanna Thrive? Jo's LE-VEL link

Finn Stiffler...

Just as our life had topped out on the stress-o-meter…We decided to bring a new puppy home. I’m not really sure what we were thinking, but nonetheless we were doing it.

We drove 2 ½ hours to meet our new little bundle of joy. We were so excited to get there and meet him and his parents. We pulled up in the driveway and standing there at the front door was the puppies’ dad. He was a cross between a Boxer and The Hulk. This dog did NOT look like this in pictures. Can dogs be on steroids? Kev and I stopped in our tracks and our jaws dropped. Dear god if our new puppy grows up to be half this size we are screwed. We tried to play it cool and walked up to the front steps, not before being kidney punched and crotch kicked by this gigantic beauty. Don’t get me wrong, this dog was gorgeous and sweet as hell but I’m not so sure I could afford to feed him or survive playtime! 

We went inside the house to meet our pup and were greeted by all these adorable puppies! We met our little one and fell in love instantly. It was love at first site. We have a chat with the family and assure them that we will take good care of him and will send pics and updates. Then the Mama dog came over to us and jumped up on my daughter and gives her a nuzzle and a kiss and then to Kevin and then me. Was she saying ‘please don’t take my baby’? Or was she saying ‘take care of my baby’? Either way my friends, this is where I lose my shit. I went into the famous Joanne ‘funeral cry’. I tried to hide my face, which I couldn’t and then I heard Kevin say ‘Oh love, are you ok’? Oh god, I couldn’t control it and was in a full blown cry. I felt awful for taking this dog’s baby. I pulled it together out of shear embarrassment and thanked them and we head home. My eyes continue to leak all the way home as I watch my daughter cradle this sweet sweet puppy.

We went back and forth on what to call him. Our six year old pup’s name is Ben, so we thought about calling the new puppy Jerry. Get it? Ben & Jerry. We thought it was so clever. Until our teenagers told us it was “cringy”… (*insert heavy eye roll here). We contemplated Riley but he didn’t look like a Riley. My husband and 16 year old son wanted to call him Stiffler, which was a hard NO from me as that would make me, Stiffler’s Mom. For those of you that have seen the movie American Pie, you may find the humor in that. For those who haven’t, please don’t google ‘Stiffler’ on your work computer. You will be flagged by the IT department and find yourselves unemployed. In the end, we settled on Finn. 

Our creator was very wise in deciding to make these little assholes so cute. Without that, they wouldn’t live past the first few months of their lives. He went from the angelic bundle of sweetness to lunatic fringe overnight. Between 24/7 pee clean up and the chewing of anything he can get his teeth on, it’s a full time job. Playing with him is like wrestling with Edward scissor hands. His teeth are like little razor blades. He pierced my husband’s ear this morning without his consent. His pillow had so much blood on it that it looked like he had been shot. He was also single-handedly responsible for me exposing myself to the neighbors. I took the dogs out for a pee first thing in the morning and wrapped my housecoat around me securely, or so I thought, and stepped into my backyard. It didn't take much. His teeth snagged the corner of my housecoat and like a Chippendale dancer and their tear-away pants, it was off me in a flash. "Sorry about that Harold" or whatever your name is looking at me from across the backyard. Imagine that, he didn't even have to buy me dinner first. #humiliated

His first family told us that he was a Boxer Collie Mix but I am positive there is a Basset Hound somewhere in the blood line. Guaranteed our neighbors think someone is being tortured in our house. I tried having a shower this morning and like you’d do with a new baby, you bring them into the bathroom with you so that you can keep an eye on them. It was eventful to say the least. ‘ChewBARKA got up on the side of the tub and started to knock over each bottle balancing on the side of my tub. Now close your eyes and imagine this scene…I’ve just put conditioner in my hair and now the bottom of the tub is a slick danger zone. As the first bottle connects with my baby toe I am howling as loud as this little devil. I dodge the other bottles falling on me as the tub became an indoor slip and slide. I turn the shower off and whip the curtain open like I’m Jack from the SHINING. I was spent. I had been awake for 15 minutes and I was already done for the day. 

I wrestled my bra out of his teeth, got dressed and made it out of the house alive.

“Not today SATAN”…

Chubby Is The New Black...

Today was the day…I reached out to my personal trainer, Craig.  We’ve been “on a break”…for a while. For a really long time...Like 6 dress sizes long time. 

We set up a time to meet and I head over to his gym on my lunch hour. I leave work and start the drive over. I’m sick to my stomach. I get winded scrubbing the toilet, how am I going to work out!? I know deep down that I am screwed and may even take my very last breath in the next 30 minutes.

I walk into the gym and head to the changing room. I start to get undressed and fold my clothes in a nice neat pile when my apple watch starts vibrating. I glance down thinking I’m getting a phone call. Nope, it’s my watch asking me if I had finished my workout!? Ok, no no no, All I did was take off my pants for god sakes!! I quickly look around for a window I can crawl out of and envision how to come up with a plan on how I will just block Craig on my phone and move to another city where he can't find me.

Instead, I slowly open the door and decide to just do it. I’m at my heaviest weight and need to get my shit together. So, out I go!

Craig is smiling at me as I walk out. Why is he smiling? He’s one of those sickos that loves to see his client’s writhering on the ground heaving in a pool of sweat. Keep in mind, they are heaving while using their full 6-pack stomachs! Jerks… Maybe if I stopped breaking up with him I would have had mine by now too.

Craig explains to me how we are going to take it easy. I feel myself relax and I breathe a sigh of relief. Which I shouldn’t have because he then points to that metal contraption machine that you see all the football players pushing across the field while grunting like enraged gorillas! Ya…THAT one! But “don’t worry Jo”…just 8 times across the room. What happened to the honeymoon period when you get back together? I’m literally dying. I’m 4 minutes into the workout and I have an Oprah
‘Ah Ha’ moment. I want to be Fat! I’m suddenly ok with it. I can make “Chubby the new Black”. Muffin tops honestly have such a bad rap.

Needless to say, I continue. We walk over to what looks like a treadmill with big red leaning pads. I get up on the machine and ask the obvious questions…Where do those go on me and where do my boobs go? Craig responds “just squeeze your boobs together and wedge them in between the red pads”. Ummm….what!? Can this get any worse? Seriously!?  I ask him to look away, this isn’t the Playboy Channel.
I finish this and move on to the other torture chambers. The workout comes to an end and I am spent. I say goodbye and hightail it out of there. I get to my car and can’t get the door open. I wrestle with the key and the door and then realize it’s not my car. It’s not even the right color!!! I'm delirious. I find my car and get in and turn the air conditioning on full blast to try and dry my hair.  

As I listen to the whir of the fan and start to catch my breath, I feel proud. Maybe I don’t have to block him or move away to hide from him. Maybe I can finally get my bod back! I’m going to focus on being more positive and have a better outlook on training…right after I down 2-3 Tylenols with my Cabernet Sauvignon tonight.

"2 to 3 glasses of wine per day, reduces your risk of giving a shit"