I hate being a hockey mom.

Not because I’m a mean mom, most simply because I don’t the little “hockey mom clicks”. I don’t want to meet up during the week and plan fun outings outside of the arena, fundraisers, or gossip about other teams and their hockey moms.

My ex and I pay out the hundreds of dollars every fall for my daughter to play the game. I simply want to come sit back and watch her play the game she loves so much. She most probably won’t ever get onto a NHL team, or the Woman’s Team Canada Olympic Hockey team (although if she made it, I would totally support her).

My daughter is the team goalie and that presents me with another stress. It’s alot of responsibility for her if no goals go in then she’s the hero, but if by chance some pucks get by her then she gets judged by her teammates and sad to say but by some, not all, but some of the parents.

Below is a brief clip of her from this past sunday’s game, she’s the goalie ­čÖé


I also know that some of the parent’s talk bad about me because I am not at EVERY single game. I can’t be at EVERY single game. I don’t have a car, the team she plays for is for the country township in which her father lives,, and sometimes these games are very late at night.

I’m a loner hockey mom, I like to sit and read my book on a bench while I wait for her to get all her gear on. I sit off by myself in the stands and cheer quietly from afar for her and the rest of her team (sometimes I sit with my older daughter Big C). After the game I return to reading my book while she gets out of her stinky gear and shoots the┬áshit with the girls in the change room. We walk out into the cold winter air I give her a hug and tell her how incredibly proud I am of her.

She hugs me back and say’s “thanks mom”. (then she usually bribes me for a drink and snack, cause she knows I love her).


I’m out and now I can’t sleep

It’s 1:52 am and I’m sitting in my children’s father’s living room wide awake. Mostly I think i’m so awake because I fell asleep at 8pm after having so little sleep after the events of the night before. Also, maybe i’m awake because I don’t have to be worried anymore, I’m in a safe place with a very optimistic future.

When I left yesterday, I left a note to the ex, that I would have the movers there next month on the 16th, and to please make sure he was there (I want him there so he can’t accuse me of taking any of his precious crap), I didn’t tell him where I was going, just that I had found a place to stay until my apt is ready.

Shortly, after I left and was with my kids and their dad,,I found myself thinking/warning myself of things not to do, things that the ex was always complaining about for example,,,older daughter got into the car and slammed the door as teens do, inside I cringed,,,don’t slam the door it upsets ex,,,,

Watching tv,,I realized my kids were asking my opinion on what to watch and I realized it was ok to give suggestions, I found myself joking with my girls and later when I was tucked into bed with my older daughter,,I found myself giggling with her over a Family Guy episode (I was never aloud to watch that crap at ex’s) and it felt good to laugh and feel happy again.

I have another job interview tomorrow it’s for a seasonal position at a Hallmark store so that’s good, and I’m now reunited with my kitty:

She doesn't like her picture taken,

She doesn’t like her picture taken, scaredy cat.

Most people that I talked too today, are concerned that he will take his anger and revenge out on what little I have left at his place. I truly think and know that he won’t do anything to it,,,mostly because it would inconvenience him to have to make the effort to get rid of my stuff and also because he knows that I will tell his friends and neighbours and that would make him look like the “bad guy”. Also, I don’t really care if he takes his anger out on it, because it’s just stuff and stuff can be replaced with newer stuff.

True to the Narcissistic character descriptions that I have ┬áread I have not heard one word from him,,,I’m gone, he doesn’t care because life simply revolves around him, he truly believes that everyone is wrong and out to get him. I hope he enjoys living in his little wonderful, perfect world.

I pity the next unsuspecting woman who enters that world.

My story:

One of the reasons I ┬ástarted this blog was too tell my story, I will do it in parts, cause it’s long.

I pretty much grew up in my early years like a normal happy child. I don’t really remember any bad times, in fact I remember lots of happy memories.

I have a younger brother by 2 years and we had normal sibling quabbles and good times.

We were pretty lucky kids, we spent every summer at the family cottage. From the weekend that school ended at the end of June until Labour Day weekend we were at the cottage. Dad would come up on the weekends and often bring a friend or two of ours to spend the following week with us.


There was loving grandparent’s (on my father’s side only,,I never knew any of my mother’s side, strange I know), lots of uncle’s, aunt’s, godparent’s and cousin’s.

Summers were spent in the lake, hiking, fishing, campfires, with sweet’s of marshmallows, penny candy from the tuck shop, berries, and hot dogs and burgers.


The summer’s always ended with a trip the the CNE (Canadian National Exhibition) and back to school shopping.

Life was good back then.

My brother likes to say that we were poor. But, I don’t agree with him. My father always had a job and we were never homeless, we never went to bed hungry, we lived in a nice suburb in a nice townhouse and we had a nice cat and dog.

happy home

My mom was a stay at home mom. We would come home for our lunches during our junior school years. We always had home made meals, homemade cookies, cakes and snacks. I never had store bought snacks or packed lunches until highschool.

That was when my mom went to work.

That’s when I start to have memory’s of things making a turn for the bad.