Someone I’ve never met DM’d me a couple weeks ago telling me she loved reading my blog, thought I was funny and relatable, and that my bluntness “was a breath of fresh air.” I’m writing this 100% to brag to you, and have you guys know that someone out there thinks I’m funny. And that I’ve been compared to a “breath of fresh air.” No other reason other than that. So ya, that concludes this post.









Just kidding. I got to thinking about the word relatable. So I looked up the word.


2 “enabling a person to feel that they can relate to someone or something: Mary-Kate’s problems make her more relatable.”

I’m not Mary-Kate, but I do got problems. So I hope that in some way I can ENABLE you to feel like you can RELATE to me. So this is my blog post today. It’s about telling you guys the truths of motherhood. And maybe it’s the truths you won’t say out loud, you just think them in your head. It might be the truths you feel you can’t say out loud because you’ll be judged as a mom. Or it could be the things you do as a mom that you would be horrified if someone found out. So I’ll say them for you. And you can judge me, just not out loud. Only in your head. Capish?

1. Have you ever considered (or actually given) giving your kid tylenol when they didn’t need it, only because the label said “may cause drowsiness?” Ya, me neither.

2. Kids books are boring. And so not believable. Like, you’re telling me this stupid hungry caterpillar ate chocolate cake, a pickle, a lollipop, salami, an ice cream cone, cherry pie, sausage, swiss cheese, a cupcake, and watermelon, plus all that fruit… and he magically becomes a beautiful butterfly? If I ate all that there would be very little about me that would be “beautiful.” A more accurate story would be that the caterpillar was a glutton and died of clogged arteries and diabetes. And that is why gluttony is a sin. And that kids is why you drink a green juice. THE END.

3. Do you ever worry your kid might grow up and not be smart? I’m being honest. It is a legit worry of mine. What if Olive sucks at school? I did. What if at parent teacher interviews you get the “Olive is a bright student, if only she would apply herself….” (I only know the wording because, well….. my parents kept my report cards). Whatever.

4. You are somewhat happy your kid can’t quite talk yet. Or her words to her dad might be “west ed” and “McDonald’s.”

5. Your kid is boring. Like, they’re cute and all, and you wanna kiss their cheeks…. but you can only play peek-a-boo so many hundred times in an hour before you start to wonder “Does this kid seriously not know that I’m not hiding?”

6. “Leave me ALONE.” DO you ever think that? I think that a lot. Like when I’m cooking. Or on the toilet. Or in the shower. Or at 6:00 in the morning. Or trying to eat. Or trying to enjoy a friends company. Or trying to make out with your husband. Or vacuuming. Or doing my makeup. Or doing my hair. Like I said… I think that a lot.

7. Wishing naps lasted all day. Or at least until your husband came home. I ONLY think that when I have a ton of stuff to get done (*wink wink*) But man, a 6 hour nap would definitely help a mother out.

8. Ever given your kid fruit snacks and junk food for lunch? Or completely forgot to feed your kid all together? Cool, me neither.

9. Used them as an excuse to not go out? “Olive is super tired, so I won’t be able to make it to the book club this month. And she’ll probably still be super tired for next month’s as well. Thanks so much for the invite though!”

10. Here’s the one that I probably shouldn’t admit. But Mary-Kate and me gotta stick together. I sometimes wish for my life before her. And I promise it’s not often. It used to be, but not anymore. But there are days that are really hard. And not physically. But emotionally and mentally you’re spent. You have nothing else to give. You’ve been screamed at, smacked, whined at, had food thrown at you. Been puked on. Had poo go under your fingernail. Had them “help” empty the dishwasher. Found your keys in the garbage (true story). Had a hard book corner hit you in the eye. Your arms are are tired from holding them. And you still have to clean up the trail of mess they’ve left and make supper. Those are the days where I think “what would I be doing 2 years ago?” I would probably have been baking. Or shopping (in peace). I could have watched a movie by myself. I could have hung out with a friend without lugging around 18 lbs of diapers, wipes, extra clothes, snacks, etc. I could have been organizing my sock drawer. Anything. And sometimes when I think about it I get the slightest of tears in my eyes. Like last week. When Olive sucked all my energy and I went into the pantry to take a deep breath and cry. And when I came out Dane asked why I was crying and I said “it’s the onions.” (luckily I was chopping onions right before).  It wasn’t the onions. It was Olive. Those days are hard. Those days I think back to two years ago. Before Olive.

11. “If the baby wasn’t here, my life would be normal.” Ever have that thought? And then immediately think to yourself  “I can’t tell people that. I can’t say that out loud. If you say these things people will think you’re an unfit mother. Someone will try and take my baby away. They’ll put me in a mental hospital. Maybe there’s something wrong wth me? Maybe I’m actually a bad mom? Moms don’t think these things.” Well, I’m here to tell you that I don’t know if these are normal thing to think. I’m here to tell you that I don’t know if other moms think this way. I’m pretty sure (like 99.9%) that it IS normal, and that other moms DO think these things, but I can’t say for certain. I CAN tell you, that I, Claudia Redel…. think these things.


Olive has changed my life. I’m not gonna write “for the better.” Not yet. But she has changed it. I’ve become more patient. I have become more nurturing. I’ve somehow learned to run on no sleep. I’ve become more organized (most days that isn’t very apparent). I’ve become more understanding of what my mother went through (AT 20!) I’ve learned to trust my instinct more. I’ve become more sure of myself. I’ve become more confident (not in the mom bod department). I’ve become more protective of what is mine and my territory as a mother. I’ve become less judgemental of other women. I’ve become more compassionate to other moms. I’ve had to learn to stand my ground on what I think is best for my daughter.

I’m learning to juggle what it means being a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend. Some (most) days I feel like I’m failing at all of the above. But I’ve kinda learned to not give a flying squirrel’s booty. Because Olive needs me more than anyone in this WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD. And while that is some intense pressure, it’s also one of the most rewarding (so cliche, but also kinda true). Because when she sees me her brown eyes light up and she runs to me and says “MAMI!!’ Or when she grins with her teeth when I’m being a silly brain and she laughs at me like I’m literally the funniest person ever. Or when she puts her head on my shoulder and pats my back and says “Shh, Shh” cuz she’s trying to put me to sleep (nice try Olive). Or her little hand that insists on helping me put lotion on my skin after the shower. Or when she wants a sip of my drink she makes eye contact and bobbles her head up and down and points with her tiny finger and says “ya? ya?” Or when she needs help or wants something she shows all of her little teeth and says “peaaaassss.” Those moments are worth it now, when she’s asleep in her crib. But not in the bad moments. In the bad moments you just wanna scream so loud and cry so hard. (See? Honesty).

Hey Olive, have you changed my life for the better? Ya. You have. Thank you.


So it’s mine and Dane’s dating anniversary on Saturday. F-O-U-R-T-E-E-N years. When I mentioned it to him a couple days ago and asked what we were gonna do, he rolled his eyes and said “what the frig, nothing. I think its lame. I don’t ever wanna celebrate that anniversary, I think it’s stupid.” I know guys, I know… no need to tell me how lucky of a gal I am. Found me a prince charming I tell ya! In my defence, we don’t celebrate our wedding anniversary either. And he also thinks birthdays shouldn’t be a thing after you turn 10. So can you really blame me for wanting to celebrate 14 flipping years with this dude? I think I deserve a medal for putting up with him this long. I know I’m making him out to look like an ogre, but that’s only because he is. But I love him. While I might be dreading when we’re 80 and sitting on our front porch and he’s waving his cane at the neighbourhood kids and yelling profanities to get off his lawn he so meticulously waters, fertilizes, mows, whispers “I love you” to (he’s obsessed with perfect lawns and he’s a perfectionist), I’m still looking forward to the rest of this life with him. My grump. So here’s the story of how Dane Redel was the boy of my dreams (we lived in Whitecourt, it wasn’t hard to be a girls dream guy, it was slim pick ins’ people!)  and how we ended up together.


We met in grade 8. He claims it was math class I walked into, I swear it was social. Point is, I didn’t even notice Dane. NOPE. I saw this other guy and I blushed because I thought he was cute. I’m pretty sure this kid had facial hair already at 13, and he had a chain around his neck… and a ski jump hair do, so I was smitten. But he was kind of an ass and he smoked, so I was over it pretty quick. Then I noticed this other kid. He was tall and had messy hair and was wearing velcro sandals (he may kill me). He was wearing sweat pants and a blue Hawaiian button up shirt. But it was cool cuz he wore a white tee under it and left a few buttons undone. You know, cool. And his smell. I swear I can still smell him. Adidas cologne. He was confident and cocky, he was smart, he was witty, even his smile was cocky, his teeth were straight, he was good at pretty much every sport, he was athletic, he was a jock, he was perfect in my 13 year old eyes. Only downfall was his name was Bob, so I moved unto the next best thing… Dane Redel. KIDDING. It was Dane. I don’t know any one named Bob. So this kid Dane….

Turns out he was a jerk. No, seriously. He was. We basically had no interaction all of grade 8. I was invisible to him. Then grade 9 came along, and he was still a jerk. He teased me. He would say the rudest things to me. He would steal my notes between my friend Megan and me. He would steal my pencil case (to be fair… what 13 year old has a pencil case? Me). He would steal my gum. He even made me cry a couple times. That’s kinda how the whole year went. Everyone knew I liked him. Even good Ol’ Mr. Northcott, who bless his little heart even tried to set me up with him. (Mr. Northcott was like 5’3, chubby cheeks, thick moustache and and even thicker newfie accent). We were in English class one day and we had to pick partners for this project. So Mr. Northcott  goes “Wellll, maybe I’ll set Claudia up to be partners with Dannnneee.” His friend AJ pipes up “Dane has a girlfriend!” THANKS AJ. I DIDN’T ALREADY KNOW THAT. You guys, this might be funny now, but it was traumatizing. To be a 14 year old, going through the awkward weird looking phase (sometimes I wonder if I ever grew out of this phase?) and have your crush tease you mercilessly, and now your teacher? I feel like there should be laws against this. Anyways, Dane and me were not partners.

Know what else might be just as traumatizing? Once in the summer between grade 9 going into grade 10, I was working at Dairy Queen (which should give you an idea of how embarrassing this story is going to go), and in walks Dane and a friend (shoutout to Cam). The two jocks of our grade. They ordered milk shakes while I was on cash, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never looked that red in my life. (Dane got blueberry, and yes I LITERALLY remember).  I’m cringing while I write this, but me and this other kid that were working BOTH wanted to get the milkshakes. And we fought over who got to hand it to them. Me, because I wanted talk to Dane, and the other kid because he was a couple years younger and wanted to get in with the “cool” older jocks. Legit. So embarrassing.

Then grade 10 started. We were “friends” but not really. I say not really because I was terrified of him. He intimidated me. I was always nervous around him. But every once in awhile we would talk. He “dated” other girls (the word seems silly when you’re referencing it to 15 year olds, sorry). I pretended not to care. He would flirt with me, I would flirt back. That was it. Then the summer of us going into grade 11, for whatever reason, we kinda became friends without the quotation marks. We met at the river a couple of times. He held my hand going up against the current. We floated back down in our shoes and clothes. I think we even talked on the phone a couple of times. He met my parents.

Grade 11 starts and we keep talking. I remember I walked with him to pick up his parents car from the shop once and he drove me home. That day, when he dropped me off he turned towards me and asked “can I take you out for lunch tomorrow?” We went to Dairy Queen the next day. (I mean, I paid for myself and AJ came along, but it was kind of like a first date, haha). It’s been 14 years, my memories are fuzzy, but On November 25th, 2013, Dane had basketball practice. Which he went to. But he made a detour to my house first. We were hanging out and 10 mins before he had to leave he asked if I had a pen. So I gave him one. He took my hand, and in the palm of it he wrote “will you be my girl?” That was 14 years ago.

In fourteen years we’ve never been “on and off.” We’ve never broken up. We’ve never taken a “break.” Its been 14 years of togetherness. Girls have this notion that it’s so romantic, and “oh man, you’re so lucky you found a guy like Dane.” NO. Luck has nothing to do with it. You know what does? Work. And hard work. I’ve never quit or given up on him, and neither has he. But I think what makes us work is that I’ve never wanted to. I’ve never wanted to throw in the towel. Even if I said “I’m done, I give up,” I was never done. I never wanted to be done. Have we ever considered divorce? No, not even once, not even a little bit. Sometimes I think I might have loved Dane before we even started dating. And I mean that honestly. I remember my friend once had us write down our “wishes” and put them in a film canister and bury it. My “wish” was to date Dane. Even after 14 years, 7 of which have been married, I still love him, even more than at first. I want to hug him all the time. I want to be around him all the time. I wanna go on adventures with him for the rest of my life. He’s someone I admire. I look up to him. I aspire to have more of his traits. He’s my husband, he’s my rock, he’s my headache a lot of the time, but man oh man, he’s also my everything.

I give Dane a hard time because he’s so straight forward and not lovey dovey, but that’s just him. He don’t beat around the bush. He’s my strength when I’ve needed him to be. But sometimes, I’ll be jabbering away about the most pointless thing and he’ll tell me I’m cute, and my knees just about give out. Or he’ll bring home flowers from the grocery store when I’ve sent him out for eggs. And every night, without fail, he puts his hand on my leg and squeezes it before he turns over and says goodnight. He always kisses me goodbye before he leaves in the morning. He loves me a lot. Which is a weird thing to say about yourself, but it’s true. Dane loves me and I know this because he shows me everyday. He lets me feel it everyday. And I hope that he knows how much I truly love him, and how thankful I am for the last 14 years. They have shaped me into who I am today, and I cannot wait to spend another 14 years with the kid who would steal my pencil case, but also the kid who held  my hand that day at the river in the freezing water. I’ve never been more in love with you than I am today Dane Redel. Thank you for loving me.

14 reason why I love Dane:

1). He has the best work ethic of anyone I know

2). He’s smart. Like he can talk to you about politics, the physics of why that thing is doing that other thing, economics, and about Lord of the Rings. Pretty much anything.

3). He is curious about everything. He wants to know why and how, and to just know.

4). He is a clean freak, which benefits me.

5). He can cook, which doesn’t benefit me because it annoys me that he’s better.

6). He’s hot. Nuff said.

7). He’s super talented and handy and basically can do anything around the house.

8). He lets me be the little spoon even though he hates cuddling.

9). He loves adventure.

10). His laugh is infectious and I love it.

11). His hands are always beat up and dried out from working, but I love them.

12). He’s loyal till the end.

13). He thinks I’m funny

14). He loves his little family and would fight ninjas or orcs off for us. And he loves Olive and she loves him. And I love them.




2 jocks walk into Dairy Queen….






So I made a post last year with this exact title. Turns out, I still kinda suck as a mom a year later. Here’s the thing. Pretty sure we’re all gonna have sucky mom (and dads!) moments until our kids are adults. So this weeks edition of “I suck as a mom” is brought to you by yours truly.

1). I was at west ed on Monday, she didn’t wanna be in her stroller. So I let her walk beside me, but then she only wanted to be carried. So I carried her. Only to have her puke all over me and the mall floor. Right smack in front of abercrombie and fitch, you know… where all the teeny boppers go and are really mature. Shout out to the dude who made a huge dramatic face and covered his nose with his shirt. Bro, be happy you’re not the one with barf down your boobs and on your crotch (my daughter is talented in getting it in the best places). Joke was on him… he was wearing a Crooks and Castles shirt with a diamond stud I’m pretty sure he stole form his little sisters earring collection from Claire’s. I’ll take barf on me any day if my option were a). barf or b). his outfit.

2). Olive refused to eat the whole week.

3). On Wednesday I decided to have my monthly shower. I usually just let her in the bathroom with me. But today I didn’t wanna have a toilet brush, toilet plunger, toilet paper roll, or whatever else she finds thrown in the shower with me. All of these items have been thrown in with me in the past. So I closed all the doors to the rooms and let her roam the living room and hallway, free as a bird. I shower for literally 3 mins, and wrap my towel around me. *side note* Dane used my towel the night before because he’s constantly leaving his in our bedroom, so I yelled for him to bring me a new towel. He brings me the towel that I bought because it was “cute” and had tassels and pretty embroidery on it. It barely goes around me. So here I am in this barely there towel and I come out and start looking for Olive troll. I don’t see her. So I go into the bedroom. She’s not there. I come out to the living room. She’s not there. But the front door is wide open. I’m brown, I have the all year round tan going on…. but I’m pretty sure I looked like a white chick in that moment. I run out into the street (in my barely there towel) screaming her name over and over again. I can’t see her anywhere. I realize the gate to the backyard is swinging because it was raining and super windy that day, so I run back there somewhat relieved because she’s at least not on the street. But she’s not there either. So now I’m running back into the house to call 911. I can’t find my phone because that’s what happens in situations where you desperately need your phone. I start screaming her name again inside and I hear “mama, mama, mama?” I run to the pantry/laundry room and swing open the door. She’s not there. I’m just kidding, she’s there. She’s trying to get to her fruit snacks, and decided the best way to do so without getting caught is to close the door behind her. I grab her and my knees kinda buckle and I just hug her. I keep telling her she scared me, and that I’m sorry, and she just looks at me and points to her fruit snacks. I get it kid, I like them too.

4). Because she’s barely eating, and she clearly likes fruit snacks, I decide I’m gonna make some. You know, the healthy kind. So I scour Pinterest looking for recipes until I settle on one. Its got spinach, strawberries, no sugar, blah blah, healthy, you get it. I make a huge batch and wait for the pectin to do it’s thang and set into delicious healthy fruit snacks. My fruit snacks don’t really set and look like whale blubber. Dane pointed to it and went “Sooooo……. not really hey?” No. No Dane, not really. Not at all. I put them in baggies and he thinks they’ll be good in smoothies. That’s his way of saying “I saw all the organic crap you put in there,you’re not allowed to throw that out.” We’ll see how many smoothie get made.

5). Here’s the real doozy. I had to go back to west ed on Friday (it’s a long story. Ok wait, it’s actually not that long. I like shopping). So I had to go back. And that morning Olive cried for 3 hours straight and would not let me put her down. I thought she was just being whiny and I was getting super impatient with her. So at the mall I did what I had come to do, and on our way out, Afton and me just happened to sneak into Anthropologie for a quick gander. Afton was in line paying and Olive was getting fussy in her stroller, so I took out fruit snacks (not the whale blubber ones), and offered her one. She shook her head and said ” no!” and stared at me. It was in that moment white, chunky, smelly lava exploded for her mouth. Like SO much. And it wouldn’t stop coming out. I just stared at her in shock for a few seconds, and then I calmly went up to Afton and told her I’d meet her in the bathroom. She took one look at Olive and her eyes went all wide eyed and her mouth just made a huge “O.” I walked calmly to the bathroom, people giving sympathetic looks the whole way. I just smiled and gave “haha, just a bit sick… I’m fine, I’m fine, really! I’ve got it all under control” look. As soon as I got to the baby change area of the bathroom I may have freaked out a bit in my head. Taking of her barf soaked shirt was fun, when I pulled it over her head it got on her face, her neck, her hair. Her pants are covered, the stroller is covered. She managed to get it inside her shoes. It’s basically cottage cheese that reeks and is EVERYWHERE. Afton comes in and is slightly looking like she might also puke, but she runs off to winners and buys a towel, baby soap and wash cloths. So Olive had a bath at the west ed bathroom. In the sink.

6). We go straight to the walk in clinic and she gets seen right away. She has a fever of 39.4 and they tell me she has a chest infection. They prescribe her antibiotics and send us on our way. I give her the antibiotics against my better judgement (I’m the granola mom that doesn’t immunize her kid and isn’t fond of antibiotics. You can judge me and send me hate mail, all good!) After her second dose of antibiotics, my kid is COVERED in hives. Face, arms, legs…. covered. And I’m pissed. So turns out my kid is allergic to penicillin. I’m pissed because I didn’t feel comfortable when the doctor was rushed in seeing us because the clinic closed 15 mins after we got there. I’m pissed because she barley checked her and then said “I’m gonna say it’s a chest infection, but I can’t be sure. If she gets worse take her to emergency.” I’m pissed because I should have known better than to go against my judgement. I’m pissed because my baby has huge welts covering most of her body even as I write this.


Ok. Before I get death threats, calm your self. I 100% believe in doctors, and I am grateful beyond words for them (Uhhh… have you not read my post “The C- word?”) Will I take my Olive to the doctor? Yep. When needed ( I took her this morning to our family doctor!) Do I go to the doctor? VERY rarely, but yes. I go. My mom works for the health care system, trust me…. I’m not against them. Will I immunize Olive? As of right now, my answer is a strong no. Have I researched as to why I don’t want to? Yes. Do I judge people who immunize their kids and themselves? Strong no. Will I ever change my mind on immunization? Possibly! Like I said, I’m not against the medical system, doctors, nurses, antibiotics, none of it. I just have my OWN opinions as to when they are needed for MY child and myself. This post isn’t about immunizations, our health care system, doctors. It’s not about antibiotics, or political views, religious views, or whether you think unicorns are real or not. This post (and this blog for that matter) is about me being a sucky mom that is learning to have grace with herself, patience with her daughter, love and even more patience with her husband (he drives me bonkers), and maybe a good recipe or two. Or maybe even a good hair day, or if I find an outfit that doesn’t make me feel like a baby whale, I’ll post about that too. Stranger things have happened you know.

The moral of this story, post, whatever you wanna call it is this. DO NOT BUY THE CUTE TOWELS. Buy the big Bertha (I was gonna wrote big, juicy Donna ones but then I got worried Donna is too much of a common name) towels. You know, the ones that wrap around your ENTIRE body. Also, if you have any good fruit gummy recipes that don’t turn out like whale blubber, please share.



One of the images you are about to see contains graphic content and may not be suitable for wusses, or for people who probably don’t have kids.


Picture 1). Olive snuck and got her gummies and has a mouth full. Picture 2). My “fruit gummies.” More like fruit fail.  Picture 3). No explanation necessary.


If I had a dime for every time someone told me I had really white teeth, I’d have a solid $1.60. That might not seem like a lot, but thats at least 16 people that have told me I have really white teeth. 7 years ago, I was getting ready for my wedding, and I decided I wanted white teeth. Like Ross Gellar in that one episode of Friends where he ends up with glow in the dark teeth he gets them so white. So I went to my dentist and got the trays made. Did they whiten my teeth? Yup. They did. I did have to make an appointment with my dentist, go in and get the trays made, wait a few weeks to have them sent back to my dentist, then go back to to make sure they fit, then start the process. So it took awhile. Also, I didn’t tell my soon to be husband how much I was helping my dentist out financially.

Smile brilliant does all that for you from the comfort of your own couch while you watch Friends reruns (“So no one told you life was gonna be this way, your job’s a joke, you’re broke, your love life’s D.O.A!” Admit it. You started singing it too). They send you a package with the instructions to make your teeth whitening trays. They have a envelope all pre labelled for you so all you do is mail it in. Once your teeth whitening trays are made you get them within 3-5 business days, and then BadaBoom BadaBing! You start your teeth whitening process. Its been 7 years since I last whitened my teeth, so when Smile Brilliant reached out and asked if I’d be willing to try their product, I figured it would be the perfect way to make another $1.60. Every time some one tells me I have white teeth I’ll just ask they make a small contribution of .10 cents.

I want white teeth, I think most people can say they do as well. Smile Brilliant offers so many options to fit your needs. If you have sensitive teeth but are heavily stained, theirs a package for you. Or if your teeth aren’t sensitive at all, but you have decent teeth already and just want to enhance your smile, theirs a package for you. Smile Brilliant makes it easy for you to have that white smile you want. So keep enjoying your starbucks, or Tim Horton’s, or your second cup (but don’t keep smoking… you should quit that), Smile Brilliant has got your back covered. Technically they’ve got your teeth covered, but you guys know what I mean.

Here are some other teeth whitening reviews about the whole process if you still need more convincing. I don’t know why you would though. A Ross Gellar smile and $1.60 sounds pretty good to me. Also, check out this helpful article on 7 things to know before buying teeth whitening. Might help you out with your decision.





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This post is sponsored by Smile Brilliant, all thoughts and expressions are my own. Thank you for supporting companies that make my teeth white and my smile brighter. My teeth thank you.










How Much Is Teeth Whitening

I turned 30 today. That’s kinda of a big number. I remember freaking out about turning 25, and to think that was five years ago is insane. I know 30 isn’t old. It’s not. I hopefully haven’t even lived half of my life yet. But saying bye to your 20’s is what’s kinda throwing me off. Whatever. My boobs aren’t hitting the floor yet, and that’s nothing a push up bra can’t fix. Cheers to 30, push up bras, and saying goodbye to the girl in her 20’s. *CLINK*  Here are some things I’ve learned in 30 years of living, and some things about me you might not know.

Things You Might Not Know About Me:

1). I’m a homebody. I may have a passport with a few stamps here and there… but my favourite place to be is at home.

2). I hate crowds, busy places, parties, bars, pubs, social events. You know… where there’s people. Ariel had it all wrong. Sebastian knew what was up. (ps- if you don’t get my Little Mermaid reference…. you are younger than 30).

3). I’ve never been to a bar. Which I suppose would make #2 wrong. Because technically I can’ hate somewhere i’ve never been. But I’m pretty sure I would still hate it. And this is my list so bugger off.

4). I can imitate people pretty good. I can’t do accents (I literally can’t even do a Mexican accent. No joke). But I can imitate you. Do not ask me to imitate you.

5). I love weddings. I love the details. The dress. The decorations. Heck, I even like the speeches. My dream job would be for you to pay me lots of money and I plan your wedding. And then you tip me. A very generous tip.

6). I love old people. I really do. I could talk to them all day. Listen to their stories, their life, their opinions. I love old people. However, I do not want to be old quite yet.

Things I Have Learned In 30 Years:

7). People want to be validated. They want to feel useful, needed. They want to feel like they helped you and you’re thankful for what they did. So remember that. Tell someone that you appreciate them.

8). People also want to be offended by something. It’s 2017. If you wanna transform yourself into a unicorn, or a flamingo, or flip, even a beaver (if you’re thinking about it- go for the unicorn), have at er. Just don’t shove it down my throat or get offended because I don’t agree with it. Last time I checked, you didn’t need my approval to feel validated did you?

9). Click bait. If you came from Instagram, I needed you to come read my blog. I get more traffic that way. Thanks for the support and coming to read my blog. Also, sorry you thought you were getting something juicy.

10). Admitting you’re wrong is one of the hardest things to do. It like…. very RARELY happens to me, but when I am wrong, I hate to admit it. We should work on that together. *Fist bump*

11). Your hairdresser will NEVER, I repeat NEVER get your hair to look like the picture your bring her. When I was 21, I took a picture of Jessica Simpson (she’s the “dumb” blonde with a couple mil in the bank who thought tuna, AKA “chicken of the sea” was chicken that…. lived in the ocean? She was a singer in the early 2000’s… you know, if you’re younger than 30). I came out looking like Dora the Explorer. Wanna know how I know I looked like her? A). I’m brown and speak Spanish, and B). because when Dane saw me he literally said “You look like Dora the explorer.” Literally his exact words.

12). Here’s the last thing I’m going to share. It’s probably the biggest thing I’ve learned over the years. Ready? You can’t change and you will not change someone who doesn’t want to change. That person can be a millimetre away from the edge of a 100 ft cliff. You can be telling them they’re going to fall if they don’t move. You can be screaming, kicking, crying, they will not move. Unless you start making the move away from that cliff yourself, that person will not budge. Be the change you want to see, the rest will follow. You don’t tell people they need to change. That will just piss them off. They need to see you make the first move. So make that first move.

If you take anything from this, it is this. Don’t set the standard to Jessica Tuna Simpson. Set the bar to Dora. That way you won’t come out disappointed.

I’m 30 today. My heart has not stopped beating in 30 years. I hope that when I die, someone will say “that girl was happy. She lived a happy life.” (Notice how I said someone? Can’t say “people”, as in plural. Can’t set the bar too high). I’m happy. Not everyday. But most days. Last night, at 11:00 pm my whole family decided to go for an almost midnight swim. So we did. We swam outside in a 30 degree pool underneath stormy skies and patio lights. We raced, we laughed, and we were happy. My heart was happy. I am a happy 30 year old. I hope you are too. And if you aren’t, I truly hope you can find it. That is my birthday wish. For you to be truly happy. That, and the dyson hand held vacuum. Happy Birthday to me, happy day to you.





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