Food runs my life.


I have at least one fight a day with Charlotte over eating.  She just will not eat dinner!  Ever!!  No matter what I do, unless it’s chicken nuggets or grilled cheese, she refuses dinner.  Every night.  Tonight, Cody made delicious hamburgers and corn on the cob.  Charlotte ate a cheese slice.  No, not even “real” cheese.  An actual processed cheese slice.  Then threw a fit until we finally just released her to go and do what she wanted while the three of us ate.  It’s ridiculous.  I vow to turn it around… I have my books, my websites, and my recipes.  I will find a way to win this fight, so help me God!


My father in law is now doing chemo.  He’s had a set back, there seems to be an issue with his bowel now.  They are optimistic that it won’t become serious and he should be able to come home soon.  As with many chemo patients, food is unappealing at the moment and that will only contribute to his digestive issues… so what can Beanie do to help?  Food.  I bought a ridiculously expensive book with freezer meal recipes (along with my own favorite dishes that are good for the freezer!) and I am going to cook, cook, cook.  I will feed my family to keep them healthy and strong.  When my mother in law is too tired to cook, or my sister in laws are just too distracted to make meals, I want them to be able to reach for something homemade.  It makes me feel helpful.  It makes me feel useful.  I love to cook and I love my family – as crazy as they make me – so, I hope these meals will feed their bellies and their souls.


I am a binge eater.  There is no doubting that.  I have a terrible relationship with food.  Maybe one day I will get into it, but not tonight.  Anyway, I am always talking about how I need to be better, do better, eat better.  Better better better.  And then we started talking about having another child.  So, I started to “track ovulation” which is pretty much like trying to find a leprechaun catching a ride on a unicorn.  No period, bad period, random bleeding.  Off to the doctor I went and she decided to send me to an endocrinologist to look at my blood work.  Well, dear old diabetes is yet again totally out of control.  Like, super out of control.  We decided to switch over to insulin again, but a month later and things are still nuts.  I have an A1C that is literally double what it should be and a fasting sugar that is double and a bit.  No matter what I do!  At my appointment yesterday, my doc suggested that it was possible I am not Type 2 diabetic, that it is possible I am Type 1 diabetic and was misdiagnosed.  After reading about LADA, it makes a lot of sense.  And it fits me and my situation.  I was 24 when I was diagnosed and about 40 pounds heavier than I am now.  And since that time (10 friggen years!), I’ve gone from Metformin to adding in Diamicron, Invokana, Glumetza; tried Humalog, Humulin, and Lantus.  I am now currently taking NovoRapid and Levemir, which are bringing the numbers down… but I am also taking over 100 units of insulin a day!!   I go back to the doctor in 2 weeks and will be tested for Type 1 and hopefully we will be on a maintenance plan instead of more adjustments.

All of that said, I carb counted today and my numbers were good-ish.  However… I feel so hungry.  And its possible that it’s my mind just tricking me; it’s possible that I am adjusting; it’s possible that I’m actually hungry.  And most people would say to just have a snack, but WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN.  Everything is different!  I would have an apple with some peanut butter, but my sugars will be fucked.  My body is so super sensitive to eating anything.  No, I don’t always eat the best… but I am not the worst, either!


That was a jumbled mess.  Like my brain these days.  Stay tuned for something more coherent next time!




ps – I am eating the apple.


Tomorrow, my father in law will start chemotherapy.

I mentioned a few posts ago that he had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.  He had Whipple Surgery a couple of weeks ago.  He will be starting chemo now… it seems like a fairly aggressive protocol, but I don’t really know.  He will be taking oral chemotherapy drugs and also on an IV of the drugs once a week for 3 weeks and 1 week “break”, for about 6 months.

I am afraid to watch him deteriorate.  I’m keeping it in – my husband is optimistic and I don’t want to ruin that for him.  His dad is amazingly strong, but I am so scared to watch the battle.

That is completely selfish and this is not about me. 

Of course I will be there for my husband, his dad, and the rest of our family in any way that I can be.  It’s still terrifying.

Faith.  Hope.  Love.



Current State

Paw Patrol is playing in the background right now.  I can’t stand this show.  I really can’t.  It’s doesn’t teach anything.  Maybe distracted driving, and that’s about it.  But, I’m letting the kids watch it… I don’t care today.

My brother has started calling me.  It’s been 1 minute and he’s called twice.  Let’s see how many times he calls by the time I’m finished this post.

Anyway, my tank is empty.  It’s so empty, it feels like the needle is below the E.  And I just don’t even know how to fill it back up.

I’m a stay at home mom… I can’t be “empty”.  But… I’m just so drained.  I’m exhausted, physically.  I went to bed before 10PM and was up a little after 8AM, no interruptions… and still, I’m tired.  I am feeling so impatient with the girls.  I’ve snapped at them, I’ve gotten frustrated cause they’re whiny, or fighting, or wanting to lay all over me again.  I knew that being a mom meant giving your everything to them – and I have.  They literally have every ounce of me, but there is nothing left to give.  Then what?

We visited my father in law yesterday.  He looks terrible.  I am trying to be optimistic, but the stats do not support it.  It’s grim, and that’s the reality.  And pretending otherwise is what I my husband and his family want right now, but it’s exhausting me.  Still, I do it for them.

My FIL and Apple always had an amazing bond, from the beginning.  Yesterday, she stayed close to grandpa.  She sat with him watching tv, she brought and shared cookies with him, and then made him share his gelato with her.  Nothing made either of them happier than being together.

…So in a few weeks, months, hopefully years – what the hell do I tell her when she is looking for grandpa and he’s not there, never will be again?

I am able to recognize that I am not coping well.  I am seeing a new, much more helpful therapist.  I have a doctors appointment to discuss increasing my antidepressants.  I am using the medical cannabis as I should be… And still, I’m just empty.

My parents are of no help.  None.  All they tell me is to take care of the girls and think positive.  Oh how I wish it was that easy.

I know the depression is getting bad.  I need a lot of sleep, I am turning angry very easily, I have no desire or ability to do my job as a mom and wife.  I am letting my girls watch tv all day.  I make the very most basic lunch and then put them for a nap, and I also nap during that time.  I wake up and “take a break” while hubs deals with the girls.  I rarely cook dinner, I’m letting him do it.  Then I go through the motions until bed time… I get the girls down and then I smoke a joint and go to bed.  It’s not healthy.

Even if I could just perk up and be super mom again, I have my brother calling and texting me constantly.  He keeps giving me sob stories about this and that and whatever… I can’t listen.  I know he’s manipulating me.  I can’t stand it.  How can he treat me like that??  So my stress level shoots through the roof again.

How much can one person handle?  I need to get away from everyone, no phone, nothing.  Just be alone for a day.

I know I can get through all of this.  I can.  I have before.  But seriously, I am ready to be given a break.  Anytime.


So this is the end of the post.  It took me 20 minutes to write.  My brother has called me 4 times and texted once.  In 20 fucking minutes.  Lovely.





While adding the tags to this post, brother dearest called 2 more times.  Time to block his calls.


Yeah, its been quite a while since I posted.  I thought about apologizing, but why?  No one cares.  I’m not being negative, I am being realistic.  Life happens.  Would I expect a blogger to apologize to me for taking a break?  No.  So, with that, I don’t think it’s necessary to apologize.

Speaking of breaks though… I think I take them when things are good and I am not super stressed.  And then when something insane happens, I gravitate back to the blog to get my feelings out.

So what is the stressful event causing me to come back?

My father in law was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer yesterday.

I don’t know what to do or think.  I have no idea how to act.  I am so stunned.  And sad.

We don’t know too much at the moment.  He will be going for some scans to see if the cancer has metastasized, and then we go from there.  Surgery might be possible, which might be the best possible outcome.

I’m a planner.  And I’m also a fixer…. but neither of these two things are helpful right now.

I’ve only lost one person in my adult life.  This is so foreign to me.  And because it’s my father in law, I don’t think I can inject myself into the situatio too much.  I don’t think it would be helpful or appreciated, and I understand that.

My husband is a mess, as he should be.  All of our current marriage issues (which actually are very few at the moment) are put aside.  I already run the household, but now I have the extra task of comforting my husband which is something I’m not overly familiar with.  Cody is a very strong and silent kind of guy.  Seeing him cry is breaking my heart.

None of the information I’ve read is promising.  None of it!  And I just cant lie to Cody…. He knows, anyway.  He’s reading all of the same information.

I don’t know, guys.  I’m fucked right now.

My anxiety has already been off the charts.  My brother has been in contact with me, asking for money.  He’s back into the drugs, but this time it’s prescribed.  He’s abusing it.. and that’s because he is an addict.  I don’t blame him for anything, this is just who he is and his struggle.  It causes a lot of stress and anxiety for me… I live in fear of my phone.  If I don’t hear from him, I think he’s dead.  When I do hear from him, I listen to all of the ways he almost died that week (he’s epileptic with uncontrolled grand mal seizures), or trying to make him believe I don’t have money to give him.

And then there’s the problems with my own parents.

And there’s my binge eating, my own stress of being a stay at home mother, my secrets,  everything.  Just everything.

And now this.


Another month.  Another negative.

I’m not surprised.  In fact, I am able to tell about a week before my test whether I’m going to be getting a “+” or not.  I guess that’s not entirely true since I’ve only been getting negative results for the last 8 months of medications and timed intercourse.  So I guess I should say that I’m able to tell if anything is different about a week before my pregnancy test.

I haven’t had my meltdown yet.  I’m sure that will come… maybe later tonight since Cody is working late and I don’t do well with being alone.  Maybe tomorrow.  Maybe CD3 when I’m heading back to the clinic.  Again,  Right now, though, I feel alright.  I felt prepared for this.

I have a lot of things going on.  Too many, actually.  I just took a test last Friday so that I can start Academic Upgrading, which will put me into a Pre Health program, which will ultimately land me into a Pharmacy Technician program.  It was hard – and I’m pretty sure that I did horribly in math.  Ugh.  Cody is also starting school – night school – next week.  I have work things to deal with, a last minute visit from my BFF who lives in a different city.  I have another visitor and her husband coming near the end of the month.  We’re obligated with “events” every weekend for the next little while.  And on top of it all, I just found out my Auntie has lung cancer.

I’m devastated.  I don’t know what to think.  I feel like I should be doing something, but I don’t know what.  This sad news has pretty much made me forget about whatever fertility mess I’m going through.  There are bigger, more important things to deal with sometimes.

I call my Auntie Janet and I let her talk, laugh or cry – whatever she needs to do.  But I don’t let my emotions out to her because this is not about me.  This is about her – which seems to be something a lot of my family members are forgetting.  For example – my other aunt – Carol – was the one calling around and telling people that my Auntie Janet had cancer.  I didn’t think that was right.  Aunt Carol then started crying on the phone to me, to my stepmother, to my Auntie Janet – basically anyone who would listen – that this was her fault (how the fuck…… I don’t even know).  She bawled and bawled and bawled.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I cried when I found out too – TO CODY.  I get that people are emotional about this.  I get that my Aunt Carol and Auntie Janet are very close, so naturally, she’s going to be upset.  I don’t even mind that she is calling and talking to people about her emotions since her boyfriend is a sack of…. nevermind… but I think it’s selfish of her to call up Auntie Janet and cry a river of tears.  First of all – Auntie Janet needs people to be brave… especially when she might not feel so brave right now.  Second of all – How selfish can you be?  Why should she be needing to comfort you?

I’ve never had anyone in my family develop cancer.  I’ve also never had to deal with a death in my family.  I’m so terrified of this situation, it’s unreal.  My Auntie Janet and I have always been close.  I always tell her that she’s my favorite…and she is.  I’m scared for her, but I believe in her.  I know she is strong.  She is brave.  She is a fighter.  And if she needs a reminder, that’s what I’m here for.  

Since this is a blog about my fertility struggle, I will end off with that issue.  I’m waiting for my period and then I’ll be off to the fertility clinic on CD 3.  From there, we’ll be proceeding with an IUI.  However, if there is a moment when I need to be off and with my Auntie or my parents – I will abandon the medications, ultrasounds, and blood work in a heartbeat.



Pain. Loss. Grief.

I am writing with a very heavy heart today, friends.

On Saturday I said a final goodbye to my very dear cat, MOO.  Last year, he had a tumour removed.  A few months later, it returned.  Cody and I made the decision to let him live his life the best he could until the cancer started to effect him.  He was doing amazingly well until last week.  He started to not eat as much; he had trouble going to the bathroom; I noticed a big weight loss.  And there’s the huge tumour on his back – a daily reminder of how limited his time with us was going to be.

MOO wasn’t effected by the rapidly growing tumour.  He was a happy, well-fed, affectionate cat.  He loved to chase his cat-brother around and wrestle.  He even started to enjoy playing with our roommates cat, Teddy.  He didn’t slow down once, until a week ago.

I am so grateful to have had a whole extra year with him.  If the tumour hadn’t been removed when it was, he would have passed away much sooner.  I have cherished every second, minute, hour, and day with him.

In 2007, I was looking to get a cat of my own.  I was living with my cousin, Cody and I had been dating for a few months.  I went to the Toronto Humane Society website and saw the picture of “Freckles”.  It was love at first sight.  I knew I loved him and I didn’t even meet him yet.  We brought him home from the shelter and he was comfortable with the apartment and Cody and I very fast.  We didn’t like his name, so we changed it to MOO.  He liked it better too – and was able to recognize his new name easily.

I quickly became very attached to MOO, and he to I.  It was a little weird – all pets I’d had were always bonded with another family member of mine.  MOO was so different.  When I’d get ready to go to bed, I’d call him and say “Bedtime!” and he’d come running.  He crawl under the covers and stay there till I fell asleep.  When I was sick, MOO didn’t leave the bed for very long.  When I was sad, he always laid down beside me and let me cry into his fur.  He was so much more than a pet to me – he was a friend, a companion, a confidant, and my fur baby.  Life without him is not going to be the same.

Though I loved this kitty more than I can convey, I feared that we’d be branded as bad pet owners for not having the tumour removed a second time.  However, as I sat crying in Exam Room 4 while the doctor got ready for MOO’s euthanasia, she put me at ease.  She told me MOO was a beautiful cat.  She told me that he was ready to go, and this was the best decision for him.  She told me that putting him through a second invasive surgery would not have been fair to him.  She confirmed that she would have let her cat live out his life the way Cody and I let MOO continue.

I told Cody that I wasn’t going to be able to have him put to sleep if he was scared.  MOO knew this, and he sat in the backseat of the car the entire way to the clinic – which was an hour away, purring and snuggling me.  This was well received by me, since the last week he’d been reclusive and hiding a lot.  He purred when we were in the exam room; he purred when my cousin carried him away to the back to put an IV cathetar in; he purred while I held him and pet him as the injection was given.  It was his last gift to me:  to let me know he was ready to sleep.

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.  I didn’t think I was going to be able to go in the exam room while he was being euthanized. I was terrified to watch him pass.  I admit – I lost my shit a few times, but when MOO was there, I stayed strong.  I’m happy that I was the last face he saw and the last words he heard were “I love you, beebee.”

It’s been a couple of days and I still come into our room expecting to see him on the bed.  I get choked up when I see his brother looking around for him.  And when Cody is staring off into space, I feel so sad.  Cody had to make the appointment and watch this happen too.  He loved MOO just as much as I did.  He’s hurting like I am, but trying to stay strong for me.  I appreciate it and hate myself at the same time for somehow making him think he can’t grieve openly.

That’s my tale of the day, folks.  How does it relate to my pregnancy woes?  It doesn’t.  Not really, anyway.  I feel like I’ve lost a family member – someone who I cared for much like I’d care for a child, I guess.  All of this happened right in the middle of my 2WW as well, so I’m sure the stress will ensure I get to go for Round 6  next cycle.

I hope you’re all doing well and I’m thinking, hoping and wishing positive things for you all.