I'm a bad blogger.

Sorry.

I'm really struggling to keep it together and I'm thinking maybe this comforting blog will be a good outlet for my neuroses.

Why is it that everyones lives seem to be moving ahead, and yet mine is at a screeching halt, maybe even moving slowly backwards.

I feel guilty that I am not more satisfied with my life, after all I have a great job, a few good friends, a few bad friends and crushing debt. What's not to be happy about?

I struggle with so many things day in and day out, and yet never seen one bit of change. Why won't things change?

Sometimes I feel like I'm not actually living my life, merely reacting to the days events, if there are no events to react to, I may as well not even get out of bed.

I'm going to have a bath, deep condition my hair, and put on a mud mask. I may as well look like I have my shit together, even if below the surface, I'm falling apart.

You know who I hate, people that fish for compliments. You know the type, and if you don't you are probably one of them.

"I'm so fat" they say

"No your not, you're lovely" you say with all the fake sincerity you can muster up.

I have actually stopped hanging out with people because entire conversations were dedicated to ego stroking, and enabling those fishers of compliments to whore around their insecurities, while I struggle with not giving them something to be insecure about.

Well today, I must confess, I was a.....whore, (gulp)

I was dropping off a girl after dance class and casually mentioned that she may be the missing link in finding me a man, that she may have some attractive single guy friends.

She laughed

and then I said

"But then again how would you describe me, the fat girl who complains a lot"

And as quickly as the words vomited out of my mouth, I tried frantically to gather them back up and swallow them, but the damage was done.

"I would never say that, because I don't think that" she offered with that aforementioned fake sincerity, and quickly exited the car.

I won't see her again until next week, when we have class together again, hopefully she'll forget my shameful moment, or better yet she was listening to my original thought and brings an attractive single guy along.

I have mentioned before that I often try to lose weight, just look through the archives, the desperate yet half-assed attempts are poorly documented somewhere in there.

Anyways my latest attempt has me joining a well known weightloss group that might sound something like "Hate Botchers". I really like this particular group, I have be a member several time before, only to get too busy and have to drop out.

So the other day I tried a new meeting, with a different leader, I don't know her name, but she was wonderful. She actually made me cry. I don't know if I would give her all the credit for the tears, there were really a few things going on. First, I gained weight this week, second, I'm freaking alone, all the time, third, it's is soooooo hot here, greater than 30 degrees every day for 2 weeks, and my body felt it wasn't quite dehydrated enough, so it gave up a bit more moisture in my tears.

They got to talking about emotional eating, it's the majority of what they talk about. It's a valid problem, but unfortunately it's not my problem. If I'm unhappy i don't eat a package of oreos, or a pint of ice cream, no, you'll more likely find me in the bathtub with a razor. So fancy leader what quirky little tip do you have for that one, treat myself to a manicure, take up knitting...busy hands are hands out of the cookie jar, or the pill bottle.

So that's where I'm at, wondering what lies in store for me next, in my weight loss journey, in any of my journies.

There are 3 places you can spend your break at the hospital when you work nights, the staffroom, the parents lounge, or the cafeteria.

The staffroom is great if you want to sleep in the dark, with a bunch of other nurses.

The cafeteria is great if you enjoy the smell of french fries and coffee, and B.O.

The parents lounge used to be great, that was before a little girl shit on the floor and thought it would fun to smear it on the fridge, couch and walls.

So yesterday I spend my break reading a book on a folding metal chair in an empty office, at 3am.

Thanks little girl, you have, forever, ruined that room for me!


Sorry for the lack of posting....I'm really not sorry, but felt I should offer you some sort of weak explanation.

Yesterday a man got on my bus...I saw him coming before he got on and I said a quick prayer that he wouldn't sit across from me. Because he was missing an arm. The average person wouldn't care one way or another, but I do. Well he did, he sat right across from me.

Why do I care, you ask? It's not because I am the most insensitive person ever to become a nurse, it's because my mind will go wild dreaming up stories on how this man lost his left arm.

Was he born that way, did he lose it in a farming accident, or was it bitten off by a shark?

As I watched the creative way he tied his shoes with one hand, I became very aware of my 2 hands, and all the things I was doing with them. Drinking my coffee, while switching the song on my MP3 player, putting my hair in a ponytail, scratching my nose, holding on tight when the bus driver takes a sharp turn. I did all those things, a lot of them at the same time. And I wondered if he resented my left arm. As I used my 2 arms I felt as though I was rubbing it in his face, and I felt guilty, so until he got off the bus I purposely sat on my left hand, just so I might now how he felt...and if not, at least I wouldn't make him feel any worse about not having his arm.


Please don't hate me!

The other day I was walking to the bus stop downtown when a gang of over 50 skateboarders skated past me. Seriously there were 50, or more. Seeing all those guys, skillfully maneuver their boards over curbs, and down railings, made me think of a simpler time, a time when I thought I knew how to skateboard.

I was babysitting for the neighbors 3 sons, they were 10, 6, and 3 at the time, and the ten year old was teaching himself to skateboard. I sat with the other 2 on the step while we watched him work on an ollie.

"Dev, I think your footing is wrong" I said knowingly.

"I think I know what I'm doing, Jenne" He replied.

"I think I know what I'm doing Dev" with that I took his skateboard and climbed on.

I shakily tried to hold my balance while I positioned my feet in the correct way, and attempted for the first time ever, an ollie.

Well, I bent my knees and leaped into the air, the skateboard did nothing. I, on the other hand, landed not so gracefully on the skateboard.

The skateboard flew out from underneath my feet, and I fall backwards. Lucky for me, my head hit the edge of the boat trailer, breaking the fall before I came in contact with the concrete driveway.

My life didn't have the opportunity to flash before my eyes because I blacked out for a few seconds. When my eyes came back into focus, the kids were all hovered over me.

"Are you okay" they asked

I quickly got up and steadied myself on the edge of the boat trailer.

"I'm fine guys, I'm just going to go inside get a drink of water. But seriously I'm fine."

But the real reason I needed to go inside was because blood was pouring out the back of my head and I didn't want to freak them out.

I went in the house and called my sister to come watch the kids, while I got myself cleaned up.


Years later I was visiting those boys and noticed that they had a new boat.
When I asked them what happened to the old boat, they told me that they had sold it, and that the trailer still had bits of my hair and skin on it when it was sold.

I guess I failed to mention that Morgan lives just a few houses down from the home I spent the majority of my teenage years at, in Winnipeg.

Fast forward a few years from the last incident, and Morgan is now 6 years old.

It was autumn, my sister and cousin were sweeping the leaves off the driveway, and Morgan was circling the neighborhood on his bike.

My sister was feeling awkward as she tried to sweep the driveway in a short skirt.

"Look at me" she said "trying to sweep the driveway in a skirt, I am such a girl!"

With a squeal of tires Morgan brakes his bike at the end of the driveway.

"Um, is someone here complaining about being a girl" he asked

"Well, I wasn't exactly complaining..." she started

"Good" he interrupts "because you should never complain about being a girl, I WISH I was a girl....being a boy has ruined my life"

With that said he rode away, leaving my sister and cousin with their jaws gaping.



I haven't seen this kid since that incident, I wonder if he still lives a few door down, if he still as quirky, still outspoken, still a boy???

I'm gathering a set of vitals on a baby, when the young mother and grandmother walk up to the crib to watch.

This particular baby was born 6 weeks early.

"How much did this little sweetheart weigh when she was born?" I asked the mom, just trying to make casual conversation, while I count her respiratory rate.

"5 lbs 1 oz" the mother replied

"Oh that's a good size for being so early. Maybe the dates were off and she's not as early as we originally thought" I added

"Yeah I think she's actually a few weeks older, our family has small babies, I was 5lbs 15 oz, and my daughter was 6lbs 1oz" the grandmother replied.

"The acceptable average baby weight is going up and up" I said "8lbs used to be considered huge, and now it's the norm"

"You're right, people are having bigger babies than they used to" grandma paused " I think it's because less people are smoking when they're pregnant."

I didn't quite know how to respond...so I just said

"yes, and all the crap we eat".


And now a PSA from Jenne

Please don't smoke when your pregnant just so you can have a cute little miniature baby. Please, for the sake of the nurse who has to listen to your little spawn scream in agony as they withdraw from the cigarettes, don't smoke when your pregnant.

I know I'm not the only one who has noticed a sharp decline in the amount of posts that have been appearing here....I blame the fact that I have reclaimed my social life, and I love my job.

So I have decided to create a new installment called "Tales from the Sandbox". This will be a place I recreate some of the hilarious events that occurred when I was a nanny/babysitter. Think of it as a "Kids say the Darndest Things" without Bill Cosby.



I was sitting on the couch cuddling with a little blonde ball of energy, his name was Morgan, and he was 3 years old.

Morgan turns to me and asks "do you have little boobs like my mom?"

"What?" I stared at him, waiting for him to continue or change the subject, preferably the later.

He lifts up his shirt, and points to his nearly nonexistent little chest, "See I have boobs like my dad, so do you have little boobs like my mom?"

"Uhh..."

He sits back a bit and sizes me up, and if you've ever been sized up by a three year old, you'll know, it's awkward.

"No, you don't, your boobs are much bigger!" he states definitively

"Um thanks....I think"

I think I need to resign from my post as treasurer on the condo board. I'm not happy with a number of things, namely the sheer volume of information I am needing to process.

I don't care how the garbage chutes used to be cleaned 20 years ago, just clean them dammit!

I understand the construction men used your power outlet for 2 hours, one day, six months ago, but I will not review 3 years of past bills to determine the amount we should credit you for their power usage.

I also know that some areas of the building are dirty, in major need of cleaning, why are we paying cleaners when they don't show up? Why don't we fire those people and hire new ones? It's your job to clean, so clean!

Maybe the building is falling apart, maybe you're just a negative person, and nothing is ever going to be good enough for you.

Whatever the issue is, I think I prefer ignorance to whatever the alternative is.

Just like with politics, sometimes the most comforting feeling is feeling nothing at all!