It’s official. I am over the bullshit. You should be too.

Lately I have ready many articles about how Moms are over it – tired of mom guilt, mom shamming, holier than thou bullshit. Article after article about being spread too thin, not being able to even function at the end of the day, juggling dance and soccer, along with feeling guilty for not putting together a 3 corse homemade, perfectly balanced meal like Sara without the H down the street does, “Every school night and on Sunday’s” Fuck off Sara, no one gives a shit.

Look – I’ve never been a Pinterest perfect mom. I never tried to pretend that I was 100% into motherhood like it was the reason for my being. It’s not. Well at least not 100%, and for a long time I was side eyed at school functions, sports events and birthday parties for being “That Single Mom.” Most of the time I was surrounded by women whom I adore and knew my story inside and out. My tribe, but there were the other women that . The ones that hold the “Stand by your man” mentality, and who talked in whispered voices out of my earshot about what I was wearing or who I was sleeping with. I’ve been to this rodeo for 8 years, these bitches never really bothered me. I’m as real and raw as can be if someone asks my opinion, or my story. And HOW REFRESHING is it that so many amazing articles have been coming up in my news feed about the same bullshit. Like seriously, who the hell are these women?

If you are able to cook your family beautiful dinners, blanked with whole grains, organic veggies and grass fed beef – fucking awesome. The rest of us don’t, or can’t. I cannot make a meal every night of the week, I’m a working mother who sometimes isn’t home for dinner. Therefore I rely on my neighbor down the street to feed my kiddo when I can’t. and guess what half the time it’s chicken nuggets and some kind of side cause she’s got two of her own little monsters who wear her patients thin. God bless her soul for adding my little turd face to the mix without hesitation. She’s the one who texts me mid shift saying, “I have organic chicken nuggets tonight with farm fresh milk and organic carrots for your son.” followed by a , “JUST FUCKING WITH YA WE’RE GETTING MCDONALDS!!!”

BLESS. HER. SOUL. This is the kind of friend I need. And so do you.

These are the women I want to be around and its becoming more and more visible that other women are feeling the same and ACTUALLY SAYING IT. I’ve been like this for years. I’ve cut those social media perfect mothers out of my personal life ’cause my life is messy, and sometimes deep-fried and over salted and covered in ranch and ketchup. It’s pasta and pizza three nights a week, followed but survival of the fittest the other four. It’s weeks of planned well-rounded meals, lots of outside activity and perfect bed times after a long hot shower. Let’s be real, it’s barely ever the latter. That’s okay with me because I do the best I can, and I think we all need to remember that we’re not only mothers. We’re human. We crave things, a good  coffee alone at a cafe, a hobby or project that is our own. Those things are normal and nothing to be ashamed of. Yet mothers are still getting shamed for it. Come on, really? Still?

Next time you are scrolling through Facebook or Instagram, click on that ScaryMommy article about deciding to not give a fuck. You need to read those. I promise you, Sara without the H, you will feel a little bit better about life, even if you don’t want to admit that you aren’t perfect. It’s okay. When you’re ready to allow your imperfect side to be seen there will be a bunch of us assholes over here, having cheap wine before the kids get off the bus, between shitty loads of laundry that we have been letting sit for days, and using the word “fuck” like a comma. Cause remember motherhood is the scariest hood you’ll ever go through, and there isn’t one of us here that’s perfect.

This is Hard. This Shit is Hard.

“My son is 6 and he is smart and funny and creative and kind. He is also caught in the cross fire of a separation between his father and I, something that I fiercely tried my hardest to protect him from, but couldn’t completely. Today I found out that I do not have the power anymore to shield him from the hurt that life will send to him. The hurt that I have hand a hand in. His poor broken heart apologized to me for making me sad as I sat beside him and cried. He doesn’t understand this separation. He doesn’t have the support at his fathers that he has here at home. Not that his dad doesn’t love him. He does but in a way that I do not understand.”

Navigating life in general is hard. It’s tough as hell just being a person. Relationships and children, work and play. I have met no challenge like I did this day. My son and I broke, together. I am sitting here looking at the above paragraph over a year later. I am over a year stronger, smarter and healthier. I’ve made it. If you are separated, divorced or widowed you get what I mean when I say, ” You made it.” It’s making it past the hardest portion of your adult life and coming out the other side still fucking alive. You are alive and you made it.

I remember looking at my son during this epic meltdown the summer before last when he was first introduced to REAL separation. His father had moved his girlfriend and her children into his home, one that our son had never had to share with anyone. All the changes and growing pains were working together to completely break him down, which in turn broke me down. That summer, the summer of 2016 was by far the most magical and most painful summer I have ever had. Looking back at that summer it was the summer that we both needed. My son grew up a little more in that moment and the moments to follow during that summer. I let him, because I had to.

I met the most amazing man earlier that spring. Little did I know that he would ultimately be the man I would fall in total real love with and wouldn’t you know it, love me right friggen’ back. This man really reminded me that humans are amazing creatures. Humans capable of love and kindness, humor and hugs. Capable of honesty and truth, things that I had forgotten I found myself and found my voice through my own work but also through being reminded that I deserve love.

There is so much more to this story, my story, but for now I just want to remind you that you can make it and that if you ever question that in your life, just come hang here with me. Cause if I can make it, you can too. Welcome to my Crazy Simple Life.

Here I am….30.

So here’s the thing about being a 30-year-old woman and single mother you ain’t got time fo that! No time to dick around with men (or women). No time to pretend that everything is roses. No time for fake shit. When you get to this point in life shit becomes easier.

I have been a single mother of the better part of my 6 year olds life. Between the diaper changes, snotty nose, work, daycare, college and whatever else dating was hard.Looking back now it was almost like a warzone. Limbs scattered, reattaching limbs with jagged stitches- thats what it was like being with someone off and on. Tying to reattach every few months only to have gangreen set in again slowly…

I was in my mid to late 20’s during all of this and had no idea whether I was coming or going. Dating consisted of “hanging out” in a man’s house or mine after hours when my son was asleep. Occasional dinners out only to head straight back home for the evening. Relationships were mainly through text messages and there was little effort, on my part as well, to make that leap into reality. When that happened it was always a fail.

I remember when I decided that all of that was bullshit. I was going to be 30 soon and shit needed to change. So i decided to change it. I decided that all of the past relationships that were back and forth and just so hard to keep moving and never getting to the next level needed to stay in my 20’s. No moving them forward into my 30’s. I wanted a fresh start that was mine. My rules and my decisions about what it was going to be like to date. What it was going to be like to date me and stick to it. A people pleaser by nature I decided that the new year, the year I turned 30 would be different for me. And its been AMAZING. Heres what has changed about my life.

I no longer look to others for approval. Ok- we all do BUT I decided that I was the one that was in charge of my life and my happiness. I always look to my closest girlfriends and my sisters to give me that final push, but I stopped trying to please EVERYONE. I started focusing on pleasing myself.

I stopped forcing relationships. The second I decided that I was going to let my past go I felt lighter. Our past is a huge part of who we become, but we have the ability to decide how it shapes us. Like our favorite baboon Rafiki once said of the past, “you can either run from it, to learn from it.” I decided to learn. I wanted something different and realized that I had a say in how I wanted to be loved. It hurt people and that sucked. It hurt me and that sucked too. So I grieved the past and let it go. Sent it away from my new self with love and light, got up and took a step. Things are much better now. Things got so much fucking easier!

I managed to get actual advice from Jewel the day after my 30th birthday about getting older as a woman, more specifically about turning 30. She looked at me and said basically everything. She told me that she enjoys getting older. I agree with her. As we women age we are scrutinized about EVERYTHING. I’m 30 I look 25 and feel somewhere in-between. I look the best I have in 10 years and I am genuinely happier. My heart is happy, and healthy.

Turning 30 has changed me because I made it change me. I used this age-old dreaded milestone to awaken my soul to everything that I had been missing about myself. I read books because I want to now. I look at the world in a different way and I do this because I am consciously making that effort every day. I decide that I am happy. That is a choice you can make every single god damned morning. And as I write this I am drinking coffee on my porch in the warmth of the July sun. HAPPY. Being passionate about something in my life again. So if you’re dreading 30 or anything for that matter. Stop. Stretch and change the outcome of your life. Chose to be happy, choose to rid life of shit in every aspect. I want you to be happy.


The Other Side of My Mountain

So here I am. Sitting in a new rental home, roasting in the late July heat. Writing. Life has taken a turn. A really good turn for the most part. I recently turned 30. Recently found what I think is my lobster(google FRIENDS Lobster episode), and I found the strength to really cement the separation between my sons father and I. Things are going well.

For the most part.

Have you ever felt like everyday is just a fucking struggle? Like EVERYTHING. Getting to where you want to be in life sits at the top of this ominous mountain that is dreadful to look at. Huge and forbidding you to take a step without tumbling back three. But the magic of that mountain is the fact that its clear at the top your prize. You can always see it and that’s the beauty. So as I write this I have made it half way up my mountain and guess what? The climb is so hard, and so worth it. There are nights that I look at my sons empty bed and sigh. This is the hard part. Missing him while he’s away with his dad. Having fun with him and the girlfriend and her kids. Leaving me second guessing my entire world and view of it. There is a strange emptiness that I feel in my soul when he’s gone. BUT in a split second that is gone. Not missing him, that’s always going to be there when he’s away but the second guessing of what I have chosen for myself. I turn and walk down the hall and see that lobster sitting on the couch. Or wrestling with my dog and realize that yes- I’m climbing that mountain every second and at the top is the calm that I have been seeking for so long. During my climb I have stumbled and I know that I will stumble some more. Bruised and scratched up, maybe a sprain even but there is no stopping my climb. And on the other side of my mountain may not be a mountain at all. Maybe its a gentle rolling hill, no sharp slope, no loose boulders to run me over, just a few rocky spots in the path.

I have many tales of unhealthy habits, unhealthy relationships and screwed up stories that aren’t my best moments. I realized that we all have them. I’m a “single mother” who has managed through all the fucked up things I have done to raise a 6 year old who is kind, and beautiful and thinks that the sun and moon rise and set on me. I have found that my happiness is worth my patience and my time. I am better because I am climbing.

Cry if you must. As Elizabeth Gilbert once described a good hard cry as “Double Pumping it”- you know taking two breaths back to back before returning to open the flood gates-it will cleanse you. Sit and cry on a boulder for just one day. But know that this mountain of yours will allow you to climb it. Its made for you to climb. The universe created it for you and when you reach the top you will be breathless, exhausted and so full of light you will forget much of the painful climb.

Hungry No More

Our home is warm and safe. The arena is gone and the capital a memory. Life is good for everyone again. Food is plentiful and my children have no worry of the reaping. Every year since my Prim was twelve when the time of the old reaping would waft through the air the nightmares would return; and double once her brother Cinna was born. “Why name your children after two people who meant so much to you? Why remember those horrid times my child?” the old woman with one arm at the Hob asks one day. I shrug and hand her my money. Without an answer I pick up my bag and shrug my shoulders, leaving the woman and her one arm muttering something under her breath scratching her head. I walk back to our home. The same one we came back to after the final games.

The Hob is no longer a black market. A fully working farmers market with real money and goods. District 12 no longer exists though. Renamed to Seam officially our community is thriving. I remember as I walk the days coming to the Hob with squirrels and rodents Gale and I had hunted. Those were grey days. Dark Days. To the children playing in the square in the center of the Hob a history lesson in school but to most of us a real life event, or rather series of events. A painful past that haunts our sleep in one form or another. But here we are survivors of The Hunger Games and of the Capitol.

Peeta became a steady oak tree in my world. He knows me and my demons because my demons and his are family. They dance around us every day. Sometimes poking us with steaming hot iron pokers until our knees buckle and we cry out. Peeta is there most nights to comfort me and gently rock me back to sleep. I dab his head with a cool cloth when the nightmares come to him.

Even with all the years of sleepless nights and soul crushing days of flashbacks Peeta has managed to strengthen us. I take no credit in this. He has dodged dinner plates and glasses in my fits of rage when I miss Prim and Cinna and Rue. When I scream for them he has a way of wrapping me in his arms and holding me tight. Like he is squeezing me back together. He became a champion long before I realized it.

Tonight he is baking. It’s the eve of our Prim’s18th birthday. A beautiful birthday cake with dozens of tiny yellow primroses all over. I watch him in the light of our kitchen. There hunched over the counter gently placing each flower in its perfect spot and I see the boy from the bakery. Blond hair sweeping across his forehead that is wrinkled in deep concentration. His hands are the most steady when he is decorating. Like he has never seen death, never felt loss or pain ever. Peeta places flower after flower upon his daughters cake. He stops and looks up at me leaning against the doorway watching him and gives me a child like smile. I smile back. He was right all those years ago. It is okay. We still have each other.

The still night wraps me up in its darkness the gentle firelight dancing in the hearth. I pull my shawl around my shoulders tighter and breathe deep. My Prim is sleeping soundly.  My mind wanders back to the day I lost her aunt for who she is named. Primrose was my little sister. Killed at the capital in a blood bath that only people can think of as fiction. But her father and I know it was real. We were there. We made it out alive. Every day I ask myself why it had to be Peeta and I to survive that day. All of those children dead. In the blink of an eye. My precious Prim among them.

I stare at our Primrose asleep in her bed. A beautiful dark haired girl destined for a career in medicine, like her aunt once was and her grandmother. “They would be proud of you Prim.” I whisper in her ear as I gently kiss her cheek. I turn out the light in the hall and make my way to the bedroom Peeta and I have shared for so many years. He is there like every night, waiting for me. Waiting to talk about our day and about the demons. Ready to carry me through yet another terrifying night. The possibility of the nightmares coming. But he reminds me, we are ok.


**A fan fiction project I did for an American Studies class called Girls on Fire. This is inspired by The Hunger Games. Enjoy*

Elmer and the Purple Pond



Once upon a time there was a little boy who loved exploring in the woods behind his house. The boys name was Elmer. He had red hair and freckles and was tall for his age. He had nobby knees and long arms. Elmer didn’t have a lot of friends at school but his neighbor Bets was his best friend.

Bets had raven black hair, dark eyes and olive skin. She was tiny, only reaching Elmer’s shoulders but was a year older than he was. They got along like best friends would. Their parents teased them that one day they would marry, Elmer would scoff and Bets would laugh and roll her eyes.

One morning the two went wandering as they usually did in the woods behind their houses. They packed snacks and jars to collect bugs, rocks, bark or anything else that caught their eyes. The path was warn and gently rolled. They walked along chatting away about the kids at school or what their siblings got them in trouble for the night before. Elmer was the middle child of three kids. His older sister Williamina was in high school and the baby was, well a baby. His name was Micah. Bets was the youngest of her family with six older brothers. They really had so many differences but shared so many similarities. As they chatted the birds sang songs and the world warmed under the late spring sun. They wandered toward the frog pond that had become a favorite hang out of theirs. It was at the edge of the thick woods about a mile away from home. The pine trees blocked most of the suns rays from hitting the forest floor. They walked on, until Bets noticed something weird about the light around them. She stopped. “What are you doing now?” Elmer groaned. Bets was always just stopping, and most of the time Elmer would get a few yards ahead of her before he realized it and would have to walk back and fetch her. “Something is different Elm.” She said. Elmer took a deep breath and studied her face. She was really concerned looking. He looked around and there indeed was something different about the woods today, but what was it? They stood in silence for w little while and finally Bets spoke, “Its purple. The woods are turning purple Elmer. Do you see that?” Elmer agreed, although he didn’t understand how. He was indeed seeing that everything around them had a purple tone to it. “Maybe we should head home?” Elmer questioned. They looked at each other and laughed. They were too adventurous. They started walking on toward the pond that sparklywas just ahead.

Bets broke through to the opening where the frog pond was, and stopped in her tracks. Elmer smashed into her back and down in a heap they went. “Damnit Bets why on earth do you have to just stop like that. God one of these days…” his voice trailed off as he stood up and looked around. Where the normal murky, green and brown frog pond once was sat an amazing purple lagoon. There were purple flowers and vines and the water of the pond was a light sparkling lilac color. Bets got to her feet and stood next to Elmer and looked around in awe. They looked at each other after what seemed to be an eternity and then looked back at the pond, as if they were both dreaming the same exact dream. They weren’t. Everything was purple. “Bets?” Elmer whispered, “Yeah Elm?” Bets whispered back. “What in blue blazes is going on?” Elmer stammered back to her. Bets was silent for a moment and then she took a deep breath and said matter of factly, “Who the heck knows but lets go find out.”

The two wandered to the edge of the pond and looked at their sparkly purple reflections and giggled. Elmer dared himself in his head to touch the water. He quickly stuck his hand in and out again, it was silky. The sparkly purple water dripped from his outstretched fingers and made ripples in the water. Frogs sitting on Lilly pads of gray-purple croaked their good mornings and plopped into the water all around them. Bets took a jar out and filled it with the water and closed it tight. She held the jar to her chest for a while as she tipped her head back and took the purple world in. Elmer took his place beside her and did the same. “How do you think this happened?” He asked out loud, not entirely to Bets but more to the forest around him. Bets was silent. A huge bull frog croaked and startled the pair from their silence. “Excuse me?” The frog croaked. Bets’ eyes grew huge as she looked down at the frog. “I said excuse me.” The frog repeated. Bets was frozen as she stared at this bullfrog, bright purple with brilliant lavender eyes and eggplant colored spots all over him. Elmer slowly knelt down and examined this frog that was patiently waiting for Bets to move her foot from his path. “What are you looking at?” He bluntly asked Elmer. “Well,” Elmer stammered, “we have never seen a talking Bullfrog, sir.” The bullfrog laughed a deep belly laugh that made his mouth open wide exposing his toothlessness. “Oh come my child, surly you have!” He studied Elmer’s face and then looked up at Bets who was still standing as a statue in awe of the conversation that was happening at her feet between her best friend an fat old bullfrog. Elmer assured the frog that neither he nor Bets had ever aboutwitnessed the pond like this much less spoken to a bullfrog. “Well, I’ll be.” The frog introduced himself as Satchmo. He was six hundred and fifty-six years old. Bets finally decided to take a seat on a royal purple log with purple moss. The two sat intently as Satch told them the story of the purple pond. “It appears to only those that have the spark of adventure that is true in them. Only people who believe that adventure is a nessisity snappedand those people cannot live without adventure are able to find this pond. It has been four hundred and twenty-seven years since we last had any visitors. You two are special.” Satchmo snapped his tongue and swallowed a dragonfly whole. Bets looked about and asked Satch why they had never happened upon this place before and Satchmo explained that only one day out of the year the pond appears as they see it now. “It is purple because only those who have the spirit of adventure can see the purple hue beyond the forrest, as you two did.” He smiled and he snagged another dragonfly from the air.

A huge splash made all three jump. Satchmo landed atop of Elmer’s head and Bets Hid behind him. “What the heck was that?” Bets screeched. She was still not as comfortable in this purple world as Elmer was. “It sounded like it was close.” Elmer calmly replied. The three started toward the splash.

Elmer halted and grabbed Satchmo who was still clinging his sticky frog toes to Elmer’s forehead for dear life, and shoved him into Bets’ chest. “Here you two stay here behind this boulder and don’t move!” Bets did as she was told. Normally she would come back at Elmer for this, she was in fact the older of the two and didn’t care much for being bossed around by him when she received enough of it at home, but she did as she was told without question. Elmer Marched toward the yelps and splashes that had become increasingly violent sounding. He poked his head through a patch of purplish magenta reeds and saw a massive alligator and snapping its jaws toward a just as massive catfish. The fish hit the water and bolted toward the middle of the pond only to have the alligator slam his enormous foot down on its tail hauling it mid swim. The catfish tail wiggled and flopped free and smack the face of the alligator with such force that Elmer was knocked to his knees. The catfish was not like any cat fish Elmer had ever seen. This cat fish was in fact part cat and part fish, which left Elmer a little befuddled. The fish had a the look of a Siamese cat in the face, the first time that he had seen a different color besides purple the whole time he had been here where the catfishes lime green eyes. Its nose was deep purple and its scales were sparkly and bright. The alligator roared and the catfish hissed back. As soon as the battle began it was finished, The two creatures looked at each other and Declared a truce. “You and I have been competing like this for years Albert. When are you going to admit that you are not stronger than I?” The catfish said breathlessly. “Mildred, you are a worthy appoinent, if I were one hundred years younger I’d have you for sure.” Albert sneered back at her winded. Elmer relaxed his breathe and caught MIldred’s eye.

“Excuse me dear boy, who are you?” Mildred swam over to the edge of the reeds where Elmer was hiding. “Come out I dont bite humans” she chuckled. ELmer glanced at Alber the alligator that was the size of a minivan and then he looked back at Mildred. “Oh don’t worry about him child. He may as well be a little bunny rabbit when it comes to humans.” She winked. “Are you alone?” She asked Elmer. “No Ma’am.”He called to Bets who was huddled behind the boulder with Satchmo. Bets and Satchmo both peeked out from behind the rock at Elmer as he motioned for them to come out. The three of them sat at the edge of the reeds and listened to Mildred tell the story of how a cat became a fish. The whole pond had been created by a wizard, many many years ago. Bets shot Satchmo a look to which he replied, “I was getting to that part.” He rolled his eyes back at Bets and snapped yet one more dragonfly from the air. MIldred told them the story of how there was a powerful boy wizard named Constance many years ago and that had no friends. He studied and practiced his magic for hours on end. He only had one real friend, Her name was Winifred. Together the two created a world where creatures got along, where everyone lived peacefully and because Winifred like the color so much, almost everything was purple. “The two grew up and continued to live in their world together and create different animals, like me, the catfish” Mildred purred proudly. Bets thought it sounded like a boat motor on idle but gave her slimy scaly head a rub anyway. Albert wandered over and plunked down beside Elmer and let out a groan. Mildred continued to explain that while the two created and explored their world, theirs with their families started to fade away, and before they knew it, it was lost to them forever. The two decided that they would only allow their world to be accessed by those who were able to find balance between the two worlds. “They must have an adventurous spirit and an equal love for their home and family.” Albert joined in the story. Bets looked at Elmer who was already staring at Bets. “Constance and Winifred got so caught up in their world and each other that they forgot how to have both. That is why we are hidden except for one day a year. You two have this gift that is required to be in our world, and now that you have found us you will never lose this place.” Mildred nudged Bets hand for more pats.

Albert was snoring and Satchmo was nodding as if Mildred was taking the words out of his mouth. Bets finally spoke, “How do we go home?” Elmer smiled and nodded in agreement. Albert grumbled, “The way that you came foolish girl.” Mildred splashed him with her fin and he growled never opening his eyes. “What he means is, this world is always here, you may come and go as you please just the way that you found us. We are always here waiting and always will be. For adventures keep the soul young and the spirit free, and for humans like you adventure is your life, and you will suffer without it.” Mildred then disappeared into the glittery purple water and Elmer held his hand out for Bets. She took it and stood. Looking around once more before making their way back to the forest. They held hands the whole way in silence. Neither saying anything as they walked into Elmer’s back yard. They had an unspoken agreement that day that no matter what they were going to be adventuring together for the rest of their lives.

I feel like an awful Mom when I….

I don’t know if its total and complete cabin fever that has taken my nerves and run off with then dragging behind stretching them out into paper thin shreds of what they once were. Or if its that I have a four year old little gremlin living with me. Or both.

I understand that he is curious and learning how to get his way, and that he is sensitive sometimes and that winter has probably been hard for him (because going outside when its -14 isn’t even for the birds or any other living creature for that matter), but MY. GOD. I swear some days he is really trying to see if my head will indeed pop off my neck in a fit of frustration. And for all of you parents out there here are some things that I do because I cannot handle one more second near my loving, crazy, psychotic, kind Tasmanian devil.

1) Turn the TV on. I know this is an age old trick. I will rent $325.54 worth of movies on Amazon some weeks because if this maniac comes near me one more time I may walk out the door and drive away.

2)Give him a snack. YUP I said it. I will give him fruit snacks or something and send him in his room (and turn a movie on) and shit the door behind me. This one REALLY kills me at night when he is asleep and I am looking at that angel face wondering how I could love something so much. Then the guilt fills me. OHEMGEE I fed him shit to keep him occupied. Im the worst mother ever…not really but I feel like it at that moment.

3) Kindle. WAY better than the TV. Games, shows, books that read to him. Its a genie in a green kid proof case. And I am guilty of bringing that bitch everywhere. I have a charger in the car. I shit you not. And this i feel way less guilty about because he is getting educational stuff from it. Plus I can steal it when he goes to bed.

4) IN A MINUTE. I am constantly using this phrase because i don’t want to be a zombie for the 47th time trying to suck his brains out and getting kicked, hit or head butted in a fit of pure excitement by him.  Its exhausting after a while.

5) Put him in the shower and leave him there until he is ready to come out. Cheap shaving cream color fizzles and bath gel will keep that kid occupied for sometimes 45 friggen minutes. I love it.

Now if you have sone one or all of these things, congrats! You aren’t alone. Sometimes our little snotmuffins just wont quit and we are seriously considering eating them like a wild beast if they touch us one more time- we resort to whatever trick we can find. Cheers and heres to early bedtime!

The things I notice- part one?

So being away from home for a week in a different area opened my eyes to many wonderful things. I also noticed some unnerving things. Well I guess I shouldn’t say unnerving -that’s to harsh- rather, saddening. As a woman, a single mother and a human I noticed that race still plays a huge role in my interactions with other women around me. Walking around a mall where I seemed closer to the minority I felt slightly awkward. I’m a smiler. I smile at people in passing, say hello and am generally pleasant. Being in this different state and different atmosphere I found that being the smiling pleasant person wasnt like it was at home. I got stranger looks and even one eye roll. This was mostly women. I like kids and I like when people say how cute my son is and so I smile at children, maybe to reassure them that the whole world isn’t terrifyingly scary, that there are some kind people out there. Anyway I digress. I was baffled by how looks of what looked like to me disgust when I would smile at women around me that happened to be African-American (or Black because I have no idea what is politically correct or what is appropriate to say here). I am BY NO MEANS saying that every single time I interacted with an African-American woman I was shunned but a majority of the time I felt like I had crossed a boundary of some kind. It’s so heartbreaking to me that women are still so divided. I know that there will never be a unity and a handholding circles around a campfire. All I’m asking is that when someone makes a friendly smile or gesture you don’t assume that person is weird or crazy. You have children so do I. I have ovaries and go through the same struggles as you do no matter what color skinner have. Maybe its a regional thing. Where I come from its normal, maybe that’s the problem. Maybe it’s my small town mentality that’s making me feel his way about visiting other places. It just struck me on this trip and I felt the need to put it out there in hopes that I am not alone here.

Good morning, Ugly Rectum Gobblin.


Here you are. The only thing that you will ever need to reference when needing the best insult ever. My sister and I were sitting at my table a while back rifling through the many hilarious eCards and funny pictures and she came across this gem. The combinations are amazing.

If you are and your friends are anything like mine then the insults never stop and it is out of love that we come up with the most gross and totally inappropriate ones for the ones we love the most. Please share and enjoy the hilarity that is The Ultimate Insult Creator, you Stupid Taint Monster.



This is one of the most beautiful places to live on this earth in my opinion. I have made more of an effort to tote my camera around with me and take some pictures of the beauty I see around me. This life here in Maine is full of natural beauty and wonder. It is also filled with hardship and tough times. We are a hardy bunch here and I couldn’t be more proud to be a Mainer.