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Saturday, October 3, 2015

Why I'm Awake

  • 2 am: girl goes to bathroom. Leaves hallway and bathroom lights on.
  • 2:30 am: boy is lonely and climbs into bed with me.
  • 2:30 - 3:30 am: boy proceeds to touch me with his feet for an hour.
  • 3:30 am: cat jumps on chest and proceeds to make nest.
  • 4 am: cat bores of sleep and decides to attack boy's head.
  • 4:30 am: girl comes in inconsolable because she can't find her unicorn (I can't make this shit up).
  • 5 am: girl returns to bathroom and leaves all lights on again.
  • 5:30 am: husband begins snoring so loud he even wakes himself up.
  • 6 am: oh, fuck it. I give up.
If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Being Nice vs Being Kind

As I approach my 36th year on this earth, I have come to the conclusion that I have spent the last 35 years of my life trying to be nice. But I am not nice. And when I try to act as such it comes off as disingenuous. I am not good, or attractive or of good quality. I am loud, brash and often off-putting.

What I actually am is kind. Empathetic. Caring. But not “nice”. Though I may be loud, brash and overly outspoken, at the heart of things, I care deeply about people. About helping them when they are hurting. About putting their needs in front of my own. Sometimes to a fault. That is why I am honest about how broken I am at times. Because if bearing my soul a little too often helps even just one person, it is worth it.

I see niceness as trying to placate others with personality. That is bullshit. Being nice won’t help a person in need. Being kind will. Being nice just projects a rose-colored view on the world. Being kind changes the world.

So stop being nice. Start being kind. Start being the change you wish to see in the world. With kindness. With empathy. With love.

(Drops mic. Steps off soapbox. Opens beer.)

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Living life in color, once again

Lately, I have been struggling with changes that are going on in my life. A new job, my oldest beginning kindergarten and other changes have been hard on me. Not just because there is a different routine, but because it is slowly showing me that I am becoming myself again in many ways. I have come out of the shell of grief that my brother's death created and started to become the person I was before it all.

Unfortunately, I am realizing that the person that I was/am again might be a lot for certain people to handle. I am loud, and brash and honest. A lot of people have become used to the broken me and aren't as accepting of the new/old me. When I was grieving, I was subdued, quiet and did more listening than talking. Because I didn't have words. But the words are back, along with my annoying asshole personality.

So I am at a crossroads of whether I need to tone down who I am or whether I need to get rid of people who I like in my life but aren't excepting of the new me. Which is actually the old me. Dizzy yet? Yeah, me too.

I am just trying to get my bearings so I can start moving forward and decide who I want to be by my side along the way. It has been a painful struggle, but one that I know will help me grow in the long run. I have been blessed with a semi large group of friends. But I can't tell if they are friends that should be in my life or friends who I just keep there because we have history together.

But as I get older, and possibly wiser, I am sometimes finding it painful to go forward staying friends with people who are no longer supportive. So do I keep doing the work to stay friends with people out of loyalty or do I just slowly fade away from them? I'm not sure what the right answer is and it is a very big question to pose.

I struggle daily because I want to be liked. But my personality isn't very likable. I rub a lot of people the wrong way. Some people choose to embrace that as a positive quality. Others are just frustrated by my lack of social couth.

I guess this is all a somewhat apology for being absent here on the blog. I'm not exactly sure who I am or where I am heading so it is hard to give perspective on myself, let alone anything else.
Living life in color, once again.
I will end this post by letting you know that I am happier now than I have been in a long time. Maybe my whole life. I am just trying to make sure that I keep heading in the direction that leads to my own needs and happiness and not others'. That is a very hard path for me to take. But I am working on it.

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

Friday, July 17, 2015

Diaper-free is the life for me!

Well, it's official: we are now a no diaper household. Yep, I finally bit the bullet and potty trained The Boy.

It may seem like a time for nothing but celebrating, but I feel a bit of sadness at the lack of diapered booties running around my house. (No, I am not getting knocked up again so don't even go there. Not today, Satan!)

Sure, tiny toddler whitey tighties are cute and all, but there was just something about an itty bitty booty in a diaper that I have always loved. A diapered booty is just so sweet and innocent and pure (unless said diaper is overflowing with poo, of course).

Also, my son has the aim of a drunken sailor so every bathroom in my house smells a whole lot like pee. Seriously, it's like my son thinks that his thing is a damn garden house and every surface in my semi-clean bathroom is a thirsty plant.

Before we made the final call to go full-undies, I made sure to take some pictures of his last day in diapers.

My baby boy.


I especially liked the Seventh Generation diapers in the end because they just looked so simple and clean. No cartoon figures or cutesy patterns, just an earthy tone that harkened simpler times. I wish I had been using Seventh Generation diapers sooner so I could have given more of my photos a timeless feel when I took nakey bakey pics. I also like that they aren't harsh on a baby's skin--in fact they are the ONLY diaper on the market with an unbleached core. Believe it or not, I actually care deeply about what I put on my kids and into the earth.

And the best part? From May through September, for every pack of Seventh Generation Free & Clear Diapers you purchase at Whole Foods, Seventh Generation will donate a pack of diapers to nonprofit organizations that provide services to families in need across the United States. Win-win!

This post is sponsored by Seventh Generation, but I proud to be partnering with a company that cares as much about what goes into their products as I do about the ones that I choose to use on my children.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Fatty has diabeetus

Fatty has been sick lately. Really sick. We thought she had a UTI, but it just wasn't getting better after two rounds of antibiotics, so we took her in for more testing. $300 in blood tests later, we got a diagnosis:

So what does that mean, besides that Fatty is now only one Werther's Original away from officially becoming the curmudgeonly old man from Cocoon? Well, it means that I have to chase her geriatric ass around the house twice a day to dope her up with insulin. YAY! Because I needed one more thing to make getting the kids to school and me to work in the mornings any more difficult. It also means that we now have $200 in insulin, needles and special food to buy a month.

I am sure some of you are asking if all of this expense and hassle is worth it, to which I reply, "Of course it is you heartless fucking douche canoe." Because that cat is a part of my fucking soul and all of this crap is totally worth it to have her glare at me lovingly for however much time we can buy her.

Bitch, I will cut you.

The other morning I literally had to comb through every damn room of the house for 45 minutes trying to give her her damn medicine so she won't DIE!

Damn you, Fatty. You awesome geriatric ball of fat, fur and love.

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Father's Day on Fleek

Father’s Day is nearing and I usually try to get the hubs something I think he will actually like. This year, Zazzle sent me a gift card to buy him some goodies and I was totally stoked about what I found.

ADD Daddy loves Ralph Steadman’s art. We actually have a signed print by him in our dining room that I got him for our 5-year anniversary. So when I saw this St. Louis print on Zazzle’s site, it totally reminded me of Steadman’s work and I thought the hubby would like it. So, I ordered it up and put it in a frame I bought on clearance at Marshalls. Boom. Cheap, easy gift.

Damn, this pic makes us look classier than we are.

My husband also, like most people with a penis, likes to grill. So when I saw this tray, I had to have it. It does Sir Mix-a-Lot (and pig butts) proud. I figure the hubs can put his meat on this tray (HA!) and take it out to cook it. Win-win.

Ha. They said butt...

And, since my husband is a daddy to not only two humans but also an overweight and lazy cat, I wanted to be sure Fatty got something for him. He wears this shirt with pride.

To tie it all together, I made him this card from the kids to go with whatever crappy, I mean priceless art they make him for a gift. I love these card because they are so much cooler and more personal than the store-bought variety—usually cheaper too!

Loads of cute.
Gross, I know.

Overall, Zazzle had a great selection of personalized, art-driven and creative gifts to choose from. Plus, they always have great discount codes available so be sure to seek them out before you send your order. You can even apply multiply codes!

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

This post was sponsored by Zazzle but they didn't make me the opinionated, feminist, she-beast that I am. My mama did and I am damn proud of it. 

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Happy Mothers' May!

I think Mothers' Day is just swell. But I also think that getting just a single day to celebrate the things that we moms do all year to keep our families afloat is kind of a crock. Giving a mere 24 hours to recognize the women that are literally wiping the asses of and shaping the beliefs of our future generation is BS.

I vote that from now on, May is Mothers' Month. I mean, come on, even jazz and zombies get a month. And let's face it, mommies are pretty much zombies most times, I mean, minus the whole surviving on human brains and all. I want all the moms of the world to have a whole month to embrace their awesomeness and be honored for the sometimes shitty job that they do 365 days a year.

Does that mean that Moms need to be worshiped and groveled at the feet of for the entire month of May? Fuck no. It just means that during May, maybe people can be a little kinder to Moms, give them a few kudos for a job well done, forgive them for their absentmindedness or just watch their damn kids for 10 minutes so they can play Dots and poop in peace for once this year. Just sayin'...

And while I'm at it, let's make June Fathers' Month. Because dads are just as damn important and deserve a month to honor all of the incredible work they do through the year, as well.

In honor of the first annual Mothers' Month, I let myself be a little selfish this week. I did things solely for me for once in the last 5 years. I bought girly wallpaper to redo our hallway because it made me happy. I went to a girls wine night and let the hubs hall the kids to his school play by himself. I took the entire giftcard Zazzle sent me as a Mothers' Day gift and spent it on my damn self.

I bought this custom cutting board that makes me smile.

And this tray that suits my type-A.

And this canvas that kills me.

So let's get this Mothers' Month started, shall we. What are you going to do to make May all about Mama? Get a mani/pedi instead of shopping the Target clearance aisles for next year's school clothes? Call your mom to tell her you are sorry for watching her poop for the first few years of your life? Cook a dinner that you want to eat, not that the kids will tolerate? Buy the fancy $6.99 wine instead of the 30 dime? Share your ideas with me in the comments section or on social media with the hashtag #happymothersmay. And happy Mothers' May!

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.

This post was sponsored by Zazzle but they didn't make me the opinionated, feminist, she-beast that I am. My mama did and I am damn proud of it. 

Friday, April 24, 2015

Flying your freak flag.

When I was younger, I was awkward. OK, even more awkward than I am today. I was tall and skinny, but not in a supermodel way. More like in a newborn-giraffe-on-water skis kind of way. I was all knees, elbows and a bouffant of home-permed hair.

I was also a weird fish in a very traditional fish pond. I didn't understand why I was different from all of the people around me, I just knew that I was. I also understood that if I showed my true colors to anyone, things would be difficult. Even more difficult than the hell of being a weird kid in a town full of non-weird kids.

I recently reached out to someone from high school to catch up. I wondered if she had changed and thought to myself, "It is kind of embarrassing how little I have changed." But then I realized that I have changed in a huge way: that little girl who was afraid to show her true colors now lets her freak flag fly on the daily. I have grown into my oddities and grown to love them. My diarrhea of the mouth and flamboyant style are no longer things I try to hide, they are things that I wear with pride.

I hope to instill this willingness to embrace your weird into my children. I hope they don't end up hiding their quirks like I did and being paralyzed with fear over being different. I hope the wave their freak flags with wild abandon and use them to attract like-minded beings that love what makes them different.

I wish the world promoted individuality instead of imitation. I wish we could all try less to conform and more to be unique. Because how boring is a world filled with beige carbon copies of one another?

If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.
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