Blinking counts as exercise…. right?

Today I learned that just sitting in your work out clothes, doesn’t actually burn off the 3 doughnuts you ate for breakfast.

I think maple doughnuts should be considered a health food because technically maple does comes from trees, therefore anything with maple icing is healthy.

In all seriousness though, just putting on the workout clothes took extreme motivation. Who the hell invented the workout bra INSIDE the workout shirt anyway!? I almost strangled myself twice while trying to get that stupid thing on.

Then, to make it even better, the fabric clings in all the wrong places (ie muffin tops), and squishes the decent ones (goodbye boobs).

Sadly, the “myfitnesspal” app doesn’t acknowledge, blinking, sitting, getting dressed, or reaching for the remote as exercise… and yes I actually did search those in hopes that there was other users out there as desperate and lazy as I am.

Apparently, there isn’t. They’re probably using their time wisely by napping or watching Netflix.



I like oreos.






I’m alive…. really.

No, I did not fall off the face of the earth… although I’m sure it would be nice and quiet there.

I’ve just been my usual slacking self, watching Netflix, telling myself to eat healthier, and drinking way too much coffee.

Since I blogged last, our family dynamic has changed a smidge.

We said goodbye to not 1, but 2 of our fur-baby friends.

Both are very much alive, but after 3 of my moms cats passed away she decided to take our 300lb cat (who’s actually hers), back home. Then, after 1 year of trying to find the cause of Oscars behavioral issues, we finally made the choice to re-home him somewhere with older children and no other animals.

I have spoken to his new owner many times and received multiple pictures and he is LOVING his new home. She also managed to discover that he go bonkers for olives- who knew? We are glad that it worked out though. It was a really hard decision to make, and despite the fact that he was an ass, I still loved him.

So, after we found Oscar a new home, and were waiting for his new owner to come get him, (they needed a week or so because they were in the middle of a move), I was still very upset that he was leaving.

While I was in Petsmart getting Oscar’s last tub of cat litter… I passed the adoptions section, which works with local rescues to find homeless animals a home.

Some of you may or may not know, but when an animal is picked up by animal control or a high-kill shelter, they are given 3 days to be adopted before being euthanized. That is heartbreaking!

Rescues go and save the cats not only from the high-kill shelters themselves but even animals right off the street. In this case, they saved a pregnant cat and her kittens and that’s how we came to meet “Boots”. For me, it was love at first sight…but I knew I’d have to convince the husband.

For those of you who don’t know Aaron, he has a bit of a soft spot for black cats. So, despite his “no nonsense” view of not getting anymore animals after our previous pets, as soon as “Boots” turned his little head and looked up at Aaron, he instantly turned to mush.

We went in for cat litter, and left with a rescue kitten.

I’m also glad to say that we renamed “Boots”, (partially due to the fact that Dora the Explorer makes my skin crawl, and also because I think animals should have people names). So after debating on names for DAYS, we decided on “Max” for our new furbaby.(I also call him”Maxi-pad” when he likes to climb on my face at 3am, fart beside me on the couch, and climb through my fridge)

Also, “Alfred” was a close second! This was because:

a) it looks like my cat is wearing a dinner jacket


b) Every batman needs a butler ūüėČ


Referees Wanted

My apartment is currently a warzone.

Between the sound of my older two trying to kill eachother and the construction people “fixing” the roof of the parking underground I honestly can’t think straight. I’ve had a headache for 2 days.

I’ve given up trying to referee the kids so now when they fight I just send both to their room where they can either learn to like eachother or fight to the death with beanie babies. Have fun.

I now understand why my mom hated when my brothers and I fought all the time. However, one of the benefits of having 2 younger brothers and no sisters is that you have the space to be girly but you also have to learn to be a little tough (unless you want hotwheels chucked at your head). Abigail is also the oldest of three kids with two younger brothers… poor thing. I survived, so she will too.

On the bright side she won’t have any sisters stealing her clothes.

P.S The 80 year old woman who lives above us has now decided to add to the noise symphony by hammering her wall for 30 minutes and moving around furniture. How the hell she does it I will never understand. Luckily for her I think she’s mildly deaf and can’t hear my kids… unlike the rest of my poor neighbours.

Coffee is my friend.


I’m still alive!

Theres been a ton of stuff going on lately so I was bad and ignored my blog for awhile.

My oldest 2 have had croup for about 6 days now but at least aren’t barking like seals anymore. For those of you who don’t know what croup is, its like a really bad cold but rather then coughing, the cough sounds like a bark. Abigail and Owen have had it 3 times each now *sigh*.

In other news, it looks like spring has decided to finally show up. I was one snowflake away from losing my mind…. except now that its getting warmer I can’t wear oodles of frumpy sweaters and loose jeans to hide my post-baby rolls. Guess that means i should maybe start eating better and excercising *shudder*. Anyone that knows me well, knows that I’m the least athletic human being alive. I run like a penguin and apparently ride a bike like Mary Poppins. In fact, my family and friends used to tell me that all the time when I was a kid (laughing included).

…. I haven’t ridden a bike since I was about 9. (You guys suck.)

In an effort to eat better, Aaron and I signed up for an organic food share from Plan B Organics. We pick up our share of local and imported organic fruits and veggies every other week and this wednesday was our first pick up.

It said in the location description that our box was located in the front foyer of a local restaurant close to us. Turns out the crate was on the front porch which I didn’t discover until I walked around the restaurant like a moron twice. Foyer and porch are two TOTALLY different places.

Also, the description failed to mention that the crates were reused by the company and that the customer needed to bring their own bags before leaving the empty crate.

I had no bags or boxes so I improvised….. with my diaper bag. The adjoining restaurant has massive, curtain free windows where the packed bar of drunk people got to watch me, the weirdo blonde chick, shove random root vegetables into a diaper bag and onto the van floor.

I felt like a criminal.

I also had to google pictures of vegetables to determine what some of the vegetables we recieved were. Sugar beets do NOT look like what I thought they did… they’re kind of ugly. I also have no idea what to do with them.




After my recent post about how much it sucks having “mom nails”, I finally caved yesterday and got bio-gel nails done. It was more so because Aaron had been working a lot of overtime and I needed an hour to myself before I ripped my hair out.

I LOVE getting my nails done. I don’t however enjoy trying to hold a conversation with the nail technicians (who have very thick accents), and then they keep trying to upsell a pedicure to me. Luckily, the new nail salon down the street seem to be as anti-social as I am. They have flat screens behind each nail station so you can watch the T.V rather then talk. I got to watch Christina Aguilera prance around half naked while the male nail tech (yes, a man!) did my nails. I’ll take “Burlesque” over a language barrier any day.

I did however just about have a heart attack when I went to go pay. Generally a full set of bio-gel nails is around $40-$45 and me being the genius that I am, didn’t bother to check their prices. He handed me the debit machine where I was charged $62!!!!!!!!!!

HOLY CRAP! Did you coat my nails in gold!? Jesus!

I think its back to the cheap, social, and foreign nail salons for me.

My nails do look fantastic… even though I am deathly afraid I’ll scratch the baby….

I have no idea whats wrong with me.

I am quite possibly the biggest klutz to ever exist.

In fact, I’m pretty sure almost all my friends and family have at least one¬†“Jade” story. All of which generally ending with me either hurting myself, or doing/saying something remarkably stupid.

I also am aware that I am a “fly by the seat of my pants” kind of person. I have no effing clue what I want to do with my life or what I want to be “when I grow up”. The fact that I’m already a grown up and I have no freaking clue what the hell I’m doing kind of terrifies me. Like the average person,¬†I tend to learn my strengths and weaknesses in a trial and error fashion. However, my errors tend to turn out catastrophically worse then I think the average person’s would.

2 days ago I learned that esthetics are not one of my strong points.

I decided to have some “me” time¬†and¬†took a bath. Then afterwards decided I was going to put a biore strip on my nose for extra “beautifying” purposes.

Turns out the part on the box that says “leave strip on for only 10-15 minutes” is kind of important.

I got distracted and forgot how long it was on, and when I took it off it seemed to hurt more then usual.

… I’m now missing the top layer of skin from my nose.

Hopefully it took most of the blackheads with it. I went to bed with polysporin and a giant bandage over my nose. I think I scared the hell out of Aaron the next morning when he saw my face. I was walking around like I had a botched nose job. *sigh*.

Its finally starting to heal and now just feels like a sun burn.

I did however manage to hurt my arm this morning when I tripped over a pink scooter and smashed into the wall… breaking a framed picture in the process….

…. I think I might be worse then Jennifer Lawrence.