Tag Archives: female bloggers

Suck it, Sanipod!

Public bathrooms have really upped their technology game.

Toilets flush themselves, water magically appears when you place your palms in the communal sinks, hand dryers have become so powerful that you can literally watch your skin get sucked dry in a matter of seconds.

What a time to be alive!

Most of these newfangled public bathroom upgrades are pretty self explanatory and have been implemented to make doing your business away from the privacy of your own home a less disgusting experience.

Last week, I was with my family at a museum out of town when my daughter and I needed a bathroom break. We found a seemingly standard public restroom and used stalls next to each other. Lucky for me, it was my time of the month and I needed a fresh sanitary napkin. Just as I was about to swap my old pad for a new one, I noticed there was nowhere to dispose of my “waste”.

No tiny silver box drilled into the stall wall! What was a girl to do?

It was then that I noticed a white plastic tube fastened to the wall beside the toilet. It looked exactly like the picture below.


I don’t know why, but when I first entered the stall, I thought that it was an overly large air freshener and didn’t really pay it any attention. Upon further scrutiny, I discovered that this tube was in fact a space aged, feminine hygiene disposal unit. The word “Sanipod” was written across the front of it in cursive writing.


I wrapped my used pad in toilet paper and was excited to use the Sanipod for the very first time, but then I got totally confused. How the hell was I supposed to get my feminine “waste” inside the tube? There was no obvious opening, no little trap door or tiny garbage shoot. There were no directions visible on the Sanipod. What was I missing? I knocked on it a little and then my daughter started to ask me what I was doing. Wanting to avoid a conversation about maxi pad disposal with my five year old in a public bathroom, I panicked and put the used pad in my sweatshirt pocket. Feeling like a moron, I washed my hands and then stealthily tossed my pocket pad in the garbage on our way out of the bathroom. For the rest of the afternoon, I couldn’t get the stupid Sanipod out of my head. Why couldn’t I figure out how to use it? What was wrong with me? This was a product designed for menstruating women. I WAS A MENSTRUATING WOMAN, DAMMIT.

Our day at the museum was coming to a close and I knew that I couldn’t leave without solving the riddle of the Sanipod. I informed my children that they all needed to use the bathroom before leaving. My daughter and I entered the very same bathroom and used the very same stalls.

There it was again. That smug little Sanipod. Hanging on the wall like it was better than everyone else.

I channelled my inner Crime Scene Investigator as I scrutinized the Sanipod. What was I missing?

Suddenly, I noticed a small black circle on the very tip of the Sanipod. I touched it and nothing happened. Frustrated and about to give up, I held my right hand just above the black circle thinking that maybe it would somehow sense my presence like the faucet in the communal sinks. Like magic, the top of the Sanipod popped up exposing a small compartment for my personal feminine “waste”. I hurried to change my pad and giddily placed it in the Sanipod. With a cool swishing sound, the top of the Sanipod collapsed back down on the tube as I faintly heard the dull sound of my pad hitting the bottom of the inside of the tube.




Researching the Sanipod for this post, I discovered that it comes in both black and white and a variety of sizes.They are available for both personal and commercial use. You can also get decorative wraps for your Sanipod if you desire to make your feminine “waste” tube more cohesive with your bathroom decor. In my opinion, the best feature of the Sanipod is its unique shape. Does it remind you of anything?

Anything at all?

sanipod 2

Thanks for reading and I wish you all positive Sanipod experiences!

Your friend,



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This Is Diabetes.

It’s three in the morning and Adele’s voice is lulling me awake from my clock radio.

I groggily shut off the alarm and rub my eyes.

Two more minutes…I’ll get out of bed in two more minutes.

The next time I open my eyes, forty minutes has passed. Panic washes over me as I get out of bed and grab my son’s kit off of my nightstand.

I squint under the hallway light as I fumble for a lancet and a test strip.

I stumble into my son’s room and prick his finger with the tiny needle while he stays fast asleep. I hold my breath as the meter calculates his blood sugar. I want the number to be over ten so that I can go back to sleep.

It flashes 3.1.


I wake my son and inform him that he needs a “Midnight Buffet”. He angrily gets out of bed and follows me downstairs. He chugs a juice box in a daze while I try to stay awake beside him on the couch.

After fifteen minutes, I test him again.

The meter flashes 4.2.

It’s buffet time.

Still groggy, my son manages to eat a granola bar and some apple sauce. I figure that should hold him until his six-thirty breakfast and morning shot of insulin, but with Type 1 Diabetes, you really never know.

As I tuck my son back into bed and kiss his little face, I’m hit with the realization that this is diabetes.

This and so much more.

It’s the sleepless nights and the never ending worry.

It’s the panic in the pit of your stomach when your phone rings and you see that it’s the school calling.

It’s double guessing yourself as you meticulously calculate insulin doses.

It’s needing a degree in math just to make your kid a snack.

It’s knowing that there are exactly twelve grams of carbs in thirty-seven Goldfish crackers.

It’s having your son yell at you impatiently to hurry up when you have to haul him off the ice to test his blood during hockey.

It’s the mountain of paperwork involved with every new school year or extra curricular activity.

It’s the guilt that your kid has a stupid fucking incurable disease and you can’t make it go away.

It’s your husband switching careers and working the night shift so that one of us can be available in an emergency twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

It’s people saying ridiculous things like, “but he’s not over weight”, or “I could never give my child a needle”, or “he’ll grow out of it”, or my personal favourite, “my uncle has Type 2 and he’s doing great”.

It’s wanting my son to never be left out of anything because of his disease.

Before my son got sick last November, I thought diabetes was just about drinking orange juice and avoiding sugar. I’ve learned over the last nine and a half months that it is so much more. It’s a complicated and relentless disease that never takes a day off or gives my son a break.

There is no cure for Type 1 Diabetes, also known as Juvenile Diabetes. All donations made to the JDRF go directly to research.

If you’d like to donate or if you’d like to learn more about Type 1 diabetes, check out the JDRF Canada website at http://www.jdrf.ca.

Furthermore, if you’re curious about Type 1 Diabetes signs and symptoms in children, I’ve compiled a handy little list;

-excessive thirst

-excessive hunger

-rapid weight loss

-constant urination

– unprovoked mood swings

-always being tired

-looking pale

-dark under eye circles

-sudden stuttering or losing their train of thought

-a sudden loss of interest in previously enjoyed activities

I also just want to say that if you ever feel like something is “off” with your child, trust your gut and follow your instincts.

Thanks for reading and also a huge shout out to all of our friends and family who have been so supportive. You know who you are and big love to you all!












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Paragraph #9: Haiku Roulette

Do you know what this paragraph challenge is lacking?


I’m not a big fan of poetry, but there’s something exhilarating about writing a haiku. When you find the right word with the right number of syllables to complete a line, what a rush!

I was thinking about writing a haiku or two this morning, but was having a hard time narrowing in on a subject. I sat and stared at my computer for a while and then the room got brighter as I got a glorious idea…


It’s by far the best, and DORKIEST game that I’ve ever created!

Here’s how to play…

Google “random word generator” and a bevy of websites that randomly generate words (duh) with appear on your screen. I used http://www.randomlists.com/random-words and was not disappointed. Once you’ve found a website you like, set it up so that it generates three words at a time. Then you’re all set to play! The goal of Haiku Roulette is to take your three random words and seamlessly weave them into a beautiful haiku.

Get it? Good!

Let’s get this haiku party started!!!

Haiku #1

Random words;

  1. request
  2. check
  3. bump

I requested drugs!

Bump up that epidural!

And check for the head!

Fun, right?!?!?!  Let’s do another!!!!

Haiku #2

Random words;

  1. lamp
  2. sweater
  3. hurry

Hurry up, he yelled.

She fumbled with her sweater

and turned on the lamp.

Scandelous! We can’t stop now!

Haiku #3

Random words;

  1. poison
  2. noisy
  3. teaching

Stop being noisy

while I am teaching robots

how to shoot poison.

Say what? That was a weird one. What’s next?

Haiku #4

Random words;

  1. natural
  2. best
  3. dear

Oh dear! Your poor hair!

I like your natural hue.

Green is not the best.

Hair haiku! Ha! I should really go to bed, but this is TOO FUN!

Haiku #5

Random words;

  1. present
  2. girls
  3. parcel

He presented her

a parcel wrapped in gold twine

and all the girls swooned.

Okay, seriously, I could do this all night. But I HAVE TO STOP NOW or I’ll be zombie tomorrow.

I hope you enjoyed my HAIKU ROULETTE.

Did you try some? SHARE THEM WITH ME!!

Thanks for reading and I’ll see you tomorrow!













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Paragraph # 8: Dream Career, Fantasy Life.

dream life fantasy life

Have you ever taken a career aptitude test?

I remember taking one in my last year of high school and it determined that my ideal career would be as a sports broadcaster. I’m not sure how out of the hundreds of choices available, that one was flagged for me. I’ve never been on a sports team and I’d rather get a bikini wax than watch sports on TV.

I’ve never had a career. I’ve had a plethora of jobs, but nothing that required a degree or a power suit. I’m currently classified as a grown up human but I totally don’t have my shit together when in comes to having a serious, grown up career. If I didn’t work at the toy shop, I have no idea what I’d do to earn an income.


I can figure out a way to make my dream career a reality…

Please, hop inside my head and let me give you a tour of my ultimate dream career in my fantasy life…

I wake up and spend the morning getting my kids ready for school. I do this already in my everyday life, but in my fantasy life they get dressed on time and nobody has a meltdown about wearing a winter coat in January.

After getting the kids on the school bus, I walk home in my light green tunic and wide legged pants. My outfit is comfortable, yet stylish and is best described an updated version of Dorothy’s signature look on the Golden Girls.

Once I return home, I poor myself a cup of coffee and retreat to my office. It’s a beautiful space in the basement of my four bedroom house. The walls are painted bright yellow and adorned with funky art and framed pictures of my family and friends. There’s a big wooden desk against the wall, right below a large window. My desk chair is red and plush and so comfy that I could sit on it for days. And who’s that purring under my desk? It’s the cat! In my fantasy life my kids aren’t allergic and we have the cutest, smartest cat ever with a whimsical name like Muffin or Steve.

Sitting on top of my desk is my computer and three to five house plants that I’ve managed to keep alive for more than a week. I admire them as I sit down on my comfy chair, fire up the computer and get to work.

The first thing I do is check my email. There are usually dozens from publishers and editors and film makers who all want to exchange my quirky stories for disgusting amounts of cash. I sift through their requests and pick the ones I like best. Then, I get into the zone and I write. Hours pass and I only take breaks to eat and pet the cat. The ideas flow like draft beer being pored from the tap. Every word I write is genius.

After an exciting day of writing for money, I pick up the kids at the bus stop and we hang out while I make a nutritious yet delicious dinner that they all devour without complaining. Once the kids go to bed, my husband and I enjoy watching the exact same shows together on TV. We go to bed at a reasonable hour and have a solid eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. The next day follows the same schedule as the last; Kids, write for money, kids, TV, bed.

And that my friends is my dream career, in my fantasy life. If any of you beautiful readers have any tips on how to make this a reality, I would LOVE to hear your thoughts.


If you want to give me money to write stuff, I’m like totally down.


If you need someone to broadcast your sporting events, I could be persuaded… if the price is right.

I hope you enjoyed your tour of my dream career in my fantasy life. Thanks for reading and I’ll see you tomorrow.

Yours truly,







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