Do you guys remember when Tom Cruise was on the Oprah show when he was married to Katie Holmes? And he jumped on the couch because he was so in love and made a complete fool of himself? I remember Oprah asked him “what’s one thing that drives you crazy about Katie?” He got this stupid grin on his face and he answered “her smile and how she bites her lip.” The whole audience of middle aged women all in unison went “awwwwww!!!” I was so annoyed. I wanted to hear the real dirt. Like…. “her farts are rank.” Or “she cuts her toenails in bed.” Or “she has stinky feet.” No. He had to be all romantic and say her smile drives him crazy in a good way. Like EW.

So I decided to go against all Valentine’s Day tradition and tell you for REAL what drives me crazy about Dane. And no, it’s not his smile or his eyes. These are things that he does almost daily and I kinda wanna smack him.

1). He closes the heat vent in our bedroom. This. Drives. Me. Crazy. He has to have the room at glacial temperature to be able to sleep, so therefore I have to freeze every night. When I get up to pee in the middle of the night, its like a different climate zone. Tropical heat (normal people temperature, but for me it’s tropical), and north pole temperature in our room. I sometimes get up to pee just so I can thaw out.

2). He throws my stuff out without asking. So here’s a fun fact about Dane. He HATES clutter. But it sucks for me, because if he sees something that isn’t being used, or to him looks like something he can’t use, he throws it out. Like my makeup bag. With the TAGS still attached. I could have killed. I’ll be looking for something, ask him where it is and he gets this nervous look and says “uhhhh I might have thrown that out.” And then I yell at him and he answers with the same answer every time. “I didn’t think you needed it!” What a guy.

3). The shower head. He’s tall, so he moves the shower head to the very back. So when I turn on the shower to let the water warm up, it’s hitting the back wall, in turn spraying water all of the floor and my hair. Which I did not want to wash that day.

4). He rinses the dishes and leaves them on the counter. Oh. MAN. This actually really annoys me. He will take the time to rinse the dishes and clean them off, but he can’t take that extra 3 seconds to put them in the dishwasher. Which is literally under the counter he’s leaving them on. So he wouldn’t even have to move a step. So I’m left with a ton of half cleaned dishes on the counter, as well as a huge lake of water to clean up. Just leave them in the sink so my counter isn’t covered in dishes and gross food water, or put them IN THE DISHWASHER. Dane- if you’re reading this…. c’mon. Get with it.

5). Makes fun of my eyebrows. For as long as i can remember Dane has been beaking ma brows. He says that I fill one in way darker than the other. I don’t see it, I’ve tried. The other day he looks at me and says “Claud. Your brows are brutal. One looks like you filled in with a sharpie, the other one looks like you filled in with a crayon.” Ouch. Too far, too far. My brow are on flick.Or fleet. Or flick, whatever you’re supposed to say about brows.

6). Eats my cookie dough. That’s it. I’ll be making cookies and he grabs not small, but big globs of cookie dough. And I hate it.

7). Coke. He hates that I drink Coke, I hate that he tells me I shouldn’t drink coke.

8). His french press. He is a coffee snob. I want a keurig cuz you can get fancy white ones, and then I can offer all my guests (no one) coffee in my cute over priced anthro mugs. But noooooooo, he has coffee in a french press. Which he leaves coffee grinds in, and again…. on the counter. So I’m always washing out coffee grinds and they get everywhere. I hate coffee. I want a white keurig.

9). Tightens bottles. Olive wakes up throughout the night. STILL. Ya, I know, feel sorry for me. SO at 3:00 in the morning when she’s whining “bottle” and I’m a zombie and walking to the kitchen to fill up her bottle, and I can’t open it because Dane thinks they need to be tightened so not even Chuck Norris can open it, it gets a little annoying.

10). Laundry. I know what you’re thinking. “Why are you complaining about your husband doing laundry?” Here’s why. He feels the need to do it constantly. ( I can just hear his smug voice.. “If I don’t do it, it will never get done.”) I’m the type of person who will put laundry through the dryer once more just to avoid folding it (asking for a friend). So he washes my laundry, great. But then dumps it on the bed so I’m forced to fold it. When I don’t want to fold LAUNDRY.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Dane.




I keep secrets from Dane. You can’t really judge…. because I can almost guarantee you one of mine is also one of yours. Or similar. Here are mine.

1). When I was 9 months pregnant we went out to State and Main for supper. As soon as we finished eating (it was late because it was dark out, thank GOODNESS), I felt sick to my stomach. I had beads of sweat on my forehead, I felt all clammy, lightheaded, and just needed to get out of there. We were crossing the parking lot to the truck when I just knew I was about to puke. And I did. Man did I ever. I went to the back of the truck and puked my brains out into a shrub. Like full on chunky barf. So I’m 9 months pregnant, and spewing my insides out and I may or may not have been bearing down fairly significantly. And there may or may not have been a few noises that came out the other end. So I finish almost dying and get in the truck where Dane is patiently waiting for his 9 month preggo wife finish barfing. He looks over at me and goes “Um… were you like farting really loud?” I already felt embarrassed enough. Like a baby whale barfing isn’t enough of a sight to see already. So I did what any normal wife would do. I lied. I said no. So the best part is that he actually says “What? I thought you were cuz I could hear super loud fart noises. Hmmm. Must have been my truck.” Um.. my husband has just compared my farts to a truck. Awesome. Thanks sweets. Nope, just your run of the mill 9 month preggo wife puking her brains out all while farting.

2). I get jealous of how he knows what Olive is saying. She’s constantly chattering away in the back seat while we’re driving and she’ll go “sjdhcjabdsjkkhs?!” And Dane just instantly says “Oh, no Olive. We didn’t bring your protein bar and green juice.” Or she’ll scream “jdywncsdkjhcdcsljduto!!!!!!” And he’ll laugh and say ” Oh Olive! That was such a good knock knock joke!” And they’ll giggle together. OK, OBVIOUSLY I’m lying about what they’re saying, but he magically just knows what her gibberish is. It’s like he knows the Olivean dialect. And I feel left out. And I feel slightly jealous.

3). On a few occasions, I have been known to hide a McDonald’s bag inside a grocery bag and throw it in the garbage. And then I may have piled more garbage on top of it.

4). Ladies- I KNOW I am not alone on this one. Dane – (looking at my outfit quizzically) “is that shirt new?” Me – (pretending to look surprised) “What? This old thing? No. I got it ages ago. I can’t believe you’ve never noticed me wearing it before. You clearly need to pay attention to me more.” The shirt was new people.

5). Dane- “What did Olive eat today?” Me – “for breakfast she had a kale and spinach smoothie. Lunch she has organic lentil soup with quinoa and a salad. Her afternoon snack was celery sticks with rutabaga. And she JUST finished eating supper before you got home. She had beets with peas, and a few roasted chickpeas. For dessert she had 4 organic raisins and a blueberry.” She had a cookie. And a fruit leather. Sue me.


Sometimes I know Dane knows I’m lying. But he can’t call me out because he has his little secrets he’s kept from me. How do I know? Because his phone dings off the kijiji sound 3-5 times a week. So I know he’s buying some stupid part for his quad or some tool he just HAS to have. Last year, he went to some auction. Called me from there to inform me that he has spent our retirement plan savings on counter top and random tools. One of which is still sitting in the garage, untouched. (Anyone want to buy a sander?) Why? Because it was such a “good deal.” So the next time I find a dress at anthro, this will be my strategy. “is that a new dress?” “You bet your countertops it is! It was such a good deal I just had to buy it.” Ah, the joys of marriage. What are your secrets? Any of the above sound familiar?




There are days where I truly think Amelia Bedelia is my spirit animal. I always cringed when she would screw up the simplest of things… but I’m now realizing her and I have more in common than I care to admit. Wanna hear about my day? Probably not. But I’ll share anyway because I’m an “over sharer.” And one day I’ll read my blog post and think it’s funny. But today I don’t think it’s funny.  I never have liked alcohol, I pretty much think it’s gross. But I may take up drinking wine after this fun day. My friends seem to think it’s the answer to most problems… So cheers to vino!

January 29, 2018: 1:00 am- Olive wakes up. Olive refuses to fall back asleep. She whines. She cries. She screams. I want to cry. I do cry. I’m exhausted. I’m laying on the floor begging her to lay down. She would rather jump up and down, cry, laugh at me, throw her stuffed animals at me. Anything but sleep. She finally fell asleep at 3:30 am. So needless to say, I was tired the next day. And my day only got worse.

Most Amelia Bedelia morning so far. I put Olive down for a nap ( thinking she would fall asleep right away based on how our night went) to which she refused to actually nap. But I left her in her crib because I was showing her discipline. Just kidding. I left her in there because I was hoping for a miracle. So after 20 mins of her throwing every stuffed animal she has, all her blankets, her glass bottle, everything out of her crib, I hear her whine and say “poopoo.” Not a huge deal. She thinks farting is poo poo. So I let her whine and keep “disciplining” her. After a few more minutes she’s getting angry and starting to scream at me. So I walk into her room. 4 of her bunnies are on the floor. Her two “blankies” are also on the floor. Her bottle with milk leaking out is on the floor. Her pants are on the floor. Her…… diaper is not on the floor. It’s in the crib. And yes ma’am you guessed right! DING!! DING!! DING!! She had indeed had “poopoo’ed.” Did I mention Olive had a LOT of blueberries for supper the night before? And that she had a blueberry spinach smoothie for breakfast? Ya. You get where I’m going with this. Fibre, lot’s of fibre. Greenish/blueish colours. Squishiness. Her bare, non clean bum hanging out. I put on my big girl panties (more like grandma panties) and dealt with the blueberry situation.

I made a fairly grand supper. A casserole, salad with homemade dressing (if you don’t make your own dressing- please get in touch with me. I’ll give you recipes and they are delicious and easy. Anyways, moving on). I even made dinner buns. Like…. from scratch. So I guess you could say I was pretty heroic. At supper, we force feed Olive at first. EVERY. TIME. It’s the only way she’ll eat. You force it in her mouth, then she realizes she actually likes it and then she’ll eat it on her own. So Dane forces it in her mouth and she starts wailing. But she swallows it. I give her a piece of bun and she chews it, gags and then pukes. She was not a fan of my heroic efforts. So she ate cucumber for supper.

I, for whatever reason think chocolate chip cookies should be made. So I make some. We have a gas stovetop. So when I take out my cookie sheet and place it on top of the stovetop, the edge of the cookie sheet turns on not one, not two, not three, BUT FOUR burners. SO the parchment paper where my perfectly golden, crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside cookies are situated perfectly, catches fire. Like an actual flame. I have oven mitts on, and I can’t seem to figure out that I need to take them off in order for my hands to actually work. So my cookies are engulfed in flames (slight exaggeration), I’m standing there with thick oven mitts on trying to turn off all the burners, Olive is freaking out because she thinks I’m hurt and she’s crying, Dane is staring at me like he’s just walked into a madhouse. Finally the flames are extinguished, the cookies have been saved, the burners have been turned off, Olive has calmed down. I take off my oven mitts and kinda chuckle while looking at Dane as if to say “oh man, what gong show…” then sear my forearm not in one, but two places on the cookie sheet that had just been in flames. The same arm that mere moments had a huge oven mitt on. I can’t make this stuff up.

There are days that are exhausting and they suck. This day was one of them. But man, that kid lights up my days. I love her laugh. How her tiny, soft hand feels in mine. How she scrunches her face and says “ohh! toot!” whenever she sees something she thinks is cute. How she runs down the hall and she thinks she’s sprinting. How she is obsessed with ice. How she loves all her stuffed animals. How she’s perfect.

The End.




My friend Julie had made these the other day when I went for a visit. She gave me one and I liked them so much she shared the recipe. I feel like they’ll be the perfect thing when you’re trying to eat healthy but are craving something sweet. You can just grab one of these and nibble on them. Or shove 4 at once. Your call.

Every time I see a recipe on pinterest that says “healthy” I tend to skip it. I think it might be because I have it in my head that healthy means hard ingredients to find, or tasteless. And what does “healthy” even mean anyways? You ask a vegan- means no animal products. You ask someone trying to lose weight- low carb, low calorie. You ask someone on keto- high fat, low carb. So whatever. To me, these are healthy. I made mine with regular peanut butter, but you could use all natural and it would be refined sugar free. Coconut oil is not low calorie, but it is good for your body (I think). This all besides the point though. I’m sharing this because it is one of the easiest things I’ve made and they are so good. They’re almost like fudge. Please make them.


Healthier Peanut Butter Cups
  • 1 c coconut oil
  • 1 c peanut butter
  • 1 c cocoa powder
  • ½ c creamed honey
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  1. Mix all the ingredients with an immersion blender until smooth.
  2. Fill mini cup cake liners
  3. Freeze and enjoy!
  4. You can obviously just use a whisk if you don't have an immersion blender. Also, i froze mine by putting the cookie sheet outside, because well, hello Alberta.








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You’ve done it. Don’t lie to yourself. We have at one point in time before kids said “I will NEVER do that when I have kids…” But you have to say that in a self righteous, valley girl kinda voice (what IS a valley girl anyways? Is it from sweet valley high twins from your preteen years? Is it girls who live in the valley? What’s a valley? These are legitimate questions I have). Here are my “I will never do that when I have kids” things that I now do regularly. Or things you swore you ALWAYS would do, but now never do. Tell me yours in the comments.

1). I will never bribe my kid. Real life- I bribe Olive everyday. Every hour. “If you eat this i’ll give you a “nanny” (candy in her words). Chocolate chips are my new best friend. “Olive, if you let me cut your fingernails and toenails Mommy will give you chocolate chips?” She ate 20 chocolate chips in one sitting that day… but she also had 10 fingernails neatly trimmed along with 10 neatly trimmed toenails. (Ok, “neatly” is a slight exaggeration).

2). I will always make my own baby food. I’m not really sure what to even write about this. I literally never once made Olive homemade baby food. I even went so far as to buy the plastic pouches. I returned them back to homesense for store credit and bought myself something for me, and just went and bought baby food at the grocery store.

3). I’ll never let her go on my phone or watch electronics. Insert *wailing, whining, screaming child* “Olive, do you want my phone?” I actually WISH she would sit for longer than 37 seconds in front of the computer watching whatever kid show I find on Netflix… but she’s still too little and would rather beat the keyboard, stand on it, or throw the mouse across the living room. But man, for those 37 seconds I sure do live it up.

4). I’ll only feed her organic stuff. I’m no Kim K, so I can’f afford that stuff. Also, because I’m able to use some of my brain cells to trick people into thinking I’m somewhat intellectual. Also cuz my behind … I got that from my momma and my Latina ancestors. Not from a turkey baster filled with silicone or fat from my love handles. No, I still got them handles.

5). I’ll never let my kid have a temper tantrum in public. Again, insert *wailing, whining, screaming child* “Ok, you wanna have a temper tantrum in the middle of costco? I don’t care. Mommy is gonna keep shopping. Let me know when you’re done.” All the while your face is red from embarrassment, your forehead has beads of sweat from tensing your whole body, and you’re fighting back tears……………….. because you just walked by the cookbook section and your husband said you’re not allowed to buy any more cookbooks.

6). I’ll never let my kid look like she just rolled out of bed. I hated seeing little kids in their pyjamas in the grocery stores, hair stuck out like they just got electrocuted. I dunno why, I just hated it. I technically hate seeing adults in their fleece pyjamas more, but that’s another blog post for another day. I haven’t taken her out in her pyjamas quite yet, but her hair has definitely been questionable at times. And I didn’t even care.

7). I will always sanitize my bottles. I don’t reminder the last time I sanitized them. Maybe a year ago? I mean, I wash them. With hot water and soap. But do you guys remember boiling a pot of water and dumping them all in there? That was short lived. Very short lived.

Wether you’re a mom who still sanitizes bottles, or somehow has managed to make mangosteen green smoothies for her kid every morning, or wether you’re a mom who gave her kid a donut for breakfast this morning, or wether you’re a mom who let their kid watch paw patrol all day, just keep going. You’re doing good either way. Could you do better? Probably. The one thing I’ve learned though is that your kid wants to laugh with you. They want to interact with you. They want to sit with you. They want to play with you. They want to be chased by you. They want to be held by you. They want to be thrown in the air by you. They want to eat next to you. They want to be hugged by you. They want to be kissed by you. They want….. you. Their Mom. And you’ve already succeeded in being that. So pat yourself on the back Momma, you’re tough as mother. Tomorrow is a new day. Tantrums are waiting. Poop is waiting. Messes are waiting. Freak outs in public are waiting. Refusals of eating are waiting. You got this. And if today you sucked, tomorrow is another day to suck even more. But there will come a day when you don’t suck. And that day is the one day that keeps us going for the next 3 sucky days. And they’re kinda worth it.


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