Message in a bottle

“Hide your crazy and start acting like a lady.”  Miranda Lambert is my girl crush. For sure. But this song, speaks to me on levels I can’t even put into words. Basically, if you haven’t heard it, it says I ain’t a Kennedy and I can’t paint on a happy face and pretend like I’m ok. This ain’t my mama’s broken heart. SO MUCH TRUTH Y’ALL!!!

Recently, events have unfolded that made me realize I have handled some situations in my life totally and completely wrong. Wanna know why? Cause it’s like old people and sex. You just don’t talk about it. That’s what is wrong with us as a whole!! We are taught to not talk about certain things. So then, when said things occur we don’t know how to handle them and are afraid of reaching out to receive the assistance we need to deal with things. So, we bottle them up inside us until there is so much hurt anger and sadness inside us that we blow our tops. Literally. Like when Mt St Helen erupted. Massive explosion. National news. This lady: Batshit crazy. Don’t talk to her. She’s insane. Next level guys.

News Flash!!!! YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THAT!!!! This is the 21st century. We talk. A lot. In so many different forms. You don’t wanna talk to your mom about your issues? Find a support group on Facebook and message a stranger about it. Call an 800 number and talk about it. Dude, start a blog! Seriously. We have to stop acting like we live in the 1950’s!

My most recent problem? Addiction. Not my addiction. My brothers. He essentially raised me. My mom was a single parent and worked a lot. He was my rock. It’s me and him against the world. For a good 10 year stretch, I thought that wasn’t the case. I was so mad at him for everything that he was doing “wrong” in my eyes. I ruined our relationship because no one told me how to handle my feelings.

Addiction is a terrible terrible DISEASE! Yes! You heard me! DISEASE! In the beginning, addiction is a choice. Just like me choosing to drink a lot more than the recommended daily intake of Mountain Dew. And just like I choose to put chewing tobacco in my mouth. But, unlike Mountain Dew and Grizzly, drugs change your chemical makeup in your brain. They change who you are entirely. Addiction is a nasty little monster that changes a person entirely. She sets up bunk in your brain, your heart, your stomach, and your muscles. She controls EVERYTHING you do in your life. You evict her from one part of your body but she’s still there. You get her out of your heart when your girlfriend decides to have a baby. But, she’s still in your head. And your gut. It takes so much will power and desire to evict her entirely. And even once she’s out; there’s always remnants of her. Just like a breakup. You here a song and it takes you back to your first kiss. You smell a certain smell and you go back to that place. It is so hard to overcome addiction. I don’t think we give enough credit to those who successfully evict her and fight the desires day in and day out. And I don’t think we are compassionate enough with those trying to overcome it.

Very frequently, there is an underlying issue that causes a person to do drugs in the first place. Go back to that second paragraph. Old people and sex. WE TRAIN PEOPLE NOT TO TALK ABOUT THINGS! Maybe a person is dealing with their sexual preference and are afraid to talk to those who matter about it in fear of rejection. Maybe a person is dealing with mental disorders and don’t know how to get help. Maybe a person is struggling with their surroundings and don’t know how to change it or how to talk to people about it. We don’t know. And we don’t ask. We put on our judgement pants and stare them down. Degrading them in our heads. Steering clear of them in the grocery store and at the park. Walking between them and our kids in town. Fearing the unknown.

The addiction insert there was just to let you know what I’m feeling at the moment. The take away from this one? TALK!

I’m struggling really hard with turning 25. Like I cried on my way into work today because of it. I’m halfway to 50. I’m almost 30. There were so many things I wanted to do before I turned 30. Know how many I accomplished? 2. I traveled out of the country once. And I got married. Now, I’m not saying I don’t love my life now! Lord knows I do! I have two littles and a husband waiting on me everyday in a house that we got all on our own! I have so many things to be thankful for. But, I talked to people about being sad about turning 25. And guess what!? Craziest thing ever. I FEEL BETTER ABOUT IT! In one more year, I’ll legally be able to rent a car. oh! and a condo! In another year, I get to take a new license picture because 26 is when licenses expire. I just bought my second handgun. People might start taking me more serious from a business perspective cause I’m 25 now.

If something is bothering you, there are billions of other people in this world. Chances are, there is someone somewhere dealing with the same issue. Reach out!

 

A day in the life of tank

Tank. Never in my life would I have thought I would have a child with the nickname tank. A child so ferociously curious. So impatient. So strong. So large. So loveable. So sweet. So… just everything that he is.

So, let me tell you a little about our adventures with tank. When he was born, he was a tiny little 6 pound 15 ounce bundle of sweet perfection. I breast fed. We coslept. He was attached to my hip. When he was a little over 3 months old, we ended up in the hospital because he was having some digestive issues. Well, after 2 nights in the hospital, my mom gut determined he was lactose intolerant. So, we did the lactose sensitive formula for a minute. Then we put him on lactose free whole milk. And holy mother of all things good in this world the kid started growing. A lot. In a hurry. And hasn’t really slowed down since.

He weighs in at 43 pounds. Of pure muscle. He outweighs his 5 year old big sister. I only outweigh my 1 year old son by 60 pounds. He is a brute. Hence the name tank. Somedays I swear he isn’t human.

This past Tuesday, we were outside like usual in the evenings. Going about our merry little blessed life on the farm. He was in his little baby swing (which I knew he was creeping up to the weight limit on.) and I turned my back for 2 seconds. Maybe. He leaned forward while the swing was going backwards. The principle of Kinetic Energy or something like that says that objects in motion tend to stay in motion. Well, let’s just say that’s a fact. The swing stopped to change momentum to go forward. Luke did not get the memo. He does a front flip out of the swing towards the shop. Lands on his back. Hard. I panic. Clayton Panics. Dude cries for a mere 3.76 seconds. Then he’s off.

I picked him up to see if it “knotted out.” Ya know, one of those things they teach you in motherhood school. If the belly hurts, ask if subject has to poop. If they hit their head, check for a knot. If no knot, no sleep. Well, here’s the thing about tank. He has so many knots on his head! My dad used to call me a knot head. I thought he was just being silly. Luke really is a knot head. So, I’m watching for other signs of a concussion. Ya know, stumbling, pupils dilating, etc. I’m watching him plow his way across the yard. Next thing I know, he is halfway up the slide. Climbing. Up the slide. I think it’s safe to say at this point he has no concussion.

I then decided to put the children on the trampoline. Yes, I know. My daughter just broke her leg on the trampoline. No, she isn’t scared of it. No, I didn’t sell the damn thing. And no, I don’t think I’m a bad mom for putting them in there. Shit happens. Freak accident. We’ll do better. Anyway, back to my story…. Luke takes off in a full force run the best he could do on a trampoline. Runs face first into the pole that holds the net. <<< see. I’m a responsible parental type figure. We have a net.>> big black bruise with a gnarly knot on his nose. He laughs. Literally. Cackles that cute little baby laugh. Well, his actually sounds more like an evil laugh. Like Pinky and the Brain when their plotting their earthly takeover. But none the less, he laughs.

Then, we go to a friend’s house. Where Tank proceeds to eat. again. He just ate a whole plate of spaghetti at our house and now he is eating hot dogs. String beans. Cottage cheese. And whatever else he can get his little paws on. He is all over the place. He goes to pick something up from under the table and hits his head on the wraught iron table. And moves it. With his head. Laughing the whole time.

Every one says boys are a different world than girls. I thought I was prepared. But for real, no one. No one at all. Could have mentally prepared me for life with tank. I am always on my toes.  Literally and figuratively. He pushes me to my breaking point. He tests the limits. He enjoys risks. He purposefully does things that may hurt him. But, his hugs might possibly be one of the best things in this life. And his new thing is when he kisses his mama, he grabs my cheeks. And when he wakes up crying and I go in there, he just relaxes. And I know he needs me. And now I know why mamas of little boys are so tough. ❤

 

Hypocritically hypocritical

Hypocrisy. What a dirty little bastard. Think about it. How many times has someone said: “you shouldn’t chew, it’s bad for you.” As they light up a cigarette. It’s usually a very negative term. Well, I’m going to bring some light to the topic. 
Five years ago, if you would have told me that I would be proud of this picture, I would have laughed in your face. Literally. The wrinkles. The bra straps showing. My hair a hot mess. My makeup smearing. I would have been embarrassed to know that this was the picture circulating. I wouldn’t have cared if it was capturing memories. 

Flash forward 5 years. Those wrinkles? They mean I smile. And laugh. Like a lot. Because I am blessed beyond measure. And I have two wonderfully beautiful babies that put those laugh lines on my face. 

My bra straps showing mean I spent more time making sure my kids were presentable and happy and didn’t look like neaderthals like they do 99% of the time rather than picking those flaws out of my outfit.  

My hair being a mess means I have two wonderfully beautiful children that I had chased around the yard and helped find Easter eggs. 

My makeup smeared means I worked up a sweat chasing those sweet babies. 

I’ve never been one of those people who say “I was born to be a mom.” 85.5% of the time I think I’m failing miserably at it. I question my actions more so than not. And the 14.5% of the time I think I’m killing it is when their asleep and can’t do anything to make me question my parenting abilities. 

But looking at this picture, seeing the pride in my eyes and the happiness radiating from me, I know with 100% certainty that God knew what he was doing when he made me their mom. 

Even during weeks like this where my husband has worked 114 hours in 1 week and I am pulling double duty as mom and dad and I am so stressed I can barely comprehend what day it is. I know that when I see those babies my whole day will be better 

Even during days like today where I was a little too insensitive for my sweet daughters innocent heart and made her cry, I know that God knew what he was doing when he made me their mama. 

Friends in low places

Funny story about this song. On our flight home from Cancun a few years ago, our whole flight sang friends in low places. Even the flight attendants. 

But seriously, friends in low places are sooo important! And I’ve snabbed a few favorites in the last few years. You need a concrete guy? I got one. You need a bank? I got one. You need help with math? I got a guy you can call.  

It’s kind of a “you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours” situation. They help when your in a pinch. And you help them when they’re in a pinch. It works. 

But you have to take care of your friends in low places. Call em and see how they are. Send em a card. Take em to lunch. “Scratch their back” so to speak. Let them know you appreciate them. And for the love… when you see them, SMILE! Seriously! Fake it til you make it! Paste a big ole cheesy one on. Run up and hug em. They’re your back bone sometimes. Show em. 

Just a run down of my friends in low places that have got me out of a pinch recently… 

Kelsey kept my kids last minute when my babysitter had a baby. Alyssa also kept my kids. Jaden is keeping my kids. Rene gets my kids a ton. Like a lot. Lisa bought my lunch today. Kim helped around the house. RC came and towed my husband home at 11:00 one night. Austin helps us a ton. Kayla helps us a ton. And you know what they ask in return? Friendship. Like how do I get this lucky? I musta been a helluva nice person back in the day! For real!! 

Y’all, do me a solid. Take care of your friends in low places. You’re gonna need them sooner or later. Promise. 

Oh, and be safe this weekend with those friends in low places! 

Do you need any change?

Life requires change. Love requires change. All good things come from change. It’s hard to step out of the comfortable monotonous slug that we grow accustomed to. But, CHANGE IS GOOD!!!!! 

Most of this is directed at my dear aunt Stacy, this ones for you love!! 

We deserve the best we can get. Being walked on and torn apart by someone who doesn’t deserve us is heart wrenching. And unfair. And stupid. So, I challenge you to step up and take the initiaitive and do what makes you happy. Is it leaving? Then do it. Is it a new job? Then do it. Is it a boob job? Then do it. (Maybe start with the new job first so you have money to get said boob job.) but, do it!! Is it some time apart? Then sweetheart pack those bags and show him what he’s missing! 

You are a beautiful soul. You are an amazing flower in this world of ugly. But as with all beautiful things, you need nurturing. Sometimes we nurture ourselves. Sometimes we rely on others to nurture us. 

Much like a flower, the flower adapts to the earth with roots and defense mechanisms. Very independent if you think about it. But, flowers rely on the sun to help it grow. And humans to water it when Mother Nature is lacking. And to take it indoors when the weather is too cold. Flowers are hard natured, and independent, but fragile at the same time. 

Women need love. And nurturing. And sunshine. And support. Do what you need to do to find the things you need as a woman. 

But, remember what my daddy says. Don’t be afraid to do it. And don’t be afraid of the consequences. If you decide to leav, accept the consequences that he may not take you back. If you get a boob job, accept the consequences that your back may hurt. A lot. 

Most importantly, remember to put yourself first. My dad always said you put your life in this order: god, your husband, your kids. I disagree with this. God, yourself, your husband, your kids. You can’t rebuild a house in a hurricane. And you have to accept that you need to rebuild yourself to care for those around you. 

And for the love of all things holy, don’t forget to lean on your family in your time of need. We are family. That’s why we’re here. You may not always like what we hav to say, but you best believe we always have your best interest at heart. ❤️ 

Daddio

Dads. They’re the first man we fall in love with. They’re the first man to tell us like it is. They’re our whole world for a small snippet of our lives. Then, we grow up and move out and move on. It’s easy for us. Dads are annoying and repeat themselves and have the cheesiest jokes that they insist on telling at the most inappropriate times. 

But, for dads it’s much much harder. It breaks them down with each of us that leave the nest. That’s why grandkids get away with so much. We soften their hearts with each break when we leave home. I’ll tell ya there’s things my daughter does that my dad lets her get away with that if I would have even thought about doing he woulda jerked a knot in my tail so big it’d need surgery. But it’s because I broke him. 

“Ain’t no hill for a tall Indian” is the slogan I look at life with. One of those totally cheesy things my dad said when I was a kid that I obviously love now. It basically means that your circumstances are what you make them. If you think you’re a short little Indian, that hill is gonna suuuuuck. But, if you hold your chin high, tighten up, and tighten your boot straps, that hill ain’t shit. All of the things I’ve encountered in life I’ve overcome by remembering this. Yeah, it’s gonna suck. But this will make me a taller Indian for the next hill. 

My dad is extremely old school. Women shouldn’t cut their hair or cuss (oops. Sorry pops) they should put god first, then their husband, then their kids. In that order. No ifs ands or butts. If an elder tells you what to do, you don’t question it. And you follow your response with yes sir and no sir.

He works his ass off everyday. He knows the value of earning a dollar. And the importance of teaching that to your kids. He also thinks no matter what you do, you should do it with the best intentions and to make yourself happy. But he also taught me that if I make a decision with good intentions and to be happy that I have to accept the consequences. Unhappy at your job? Leave. But, when you’re next venture sucks big dick, don’t be mad when your last job won’t take you back. 

He loves with his whole heart and puts all his eggs in one basket. He will do anything for anyone. Even if he don’t know ya. 

I was not a bad kid, I don’t think. But, I had a mouth on me (surprise right?) and I could spat and spew with all 7 of my siblings like I was one of the guys. But he loved me unconditionally. I don’t ever remember my dad losing his patience with me. Except once when I was doing too good of a job at painting a fence. He consistently tells me he’s proud of me and how good I am doing at this life gig. Even when I doubt myself he reinforces me and supports my decisions. 

The thought of losing my dad makes me sick. It makes me weak. He is my biggest fan. I talk to him at least once a week. He is the best man I know. My kids adore him. I don’t know what I’d ever do without my daddio. But, I do know that I’ve learned a lesson that many people my age don’t know. I need to make time. Seeing my dad is wayyyyy more important than cleaning house. Or mowing. Or whatever other excuse I used to come up with. My children having the strong relationship with him that they have is a crucial part of strengthening my kids’ foundation. And I need to do whatever it takes to allow them to opportunity to know him like I do. 

When I look at my life as a big picture, he is my foundation. I am beyond blessed to have a dad like mine. I hope that one day my kids will look at me the same way I do him. If I am half the parent he is, my kids will be just as lucky as I am. 

Do me a favor y’all, hug your daddies. And tel them you love them. And thank you. 

Marriage, or something like it

The hubster and I had date night for the first time in quite some time this past weekend. It started out sweeet enough. I got to get dolled up. I put on makeup, fixed my hair, the whole bit. We go to dinner. Shazam!! I notice the first “thing.” He isn’t wearing his wedding ring. But guess what, that’s ok by me! Here’s why: ever see those YouTube videos and pictures of men with their ring and their skin and muscle hanging off their finger cause their stupid ring snagged? Yeah, I like my husbands finger being attached to his body. Besides that, I know he is mine forever without a ring. I know because the way he looks at me. And the way he laughs at the booger hanging out of my nose. And the way he pushes all my buttons like it’s his job. And just when I’m seriously contemplating a good ole throat punch, he pulls me into a big ole bear hug and all my worries wash away. 

So, after dinner we literally sit in the truck and say “what now?” Uh……. “are we old and boring?” Yes. The answer is yes. And I’m am also ok with that. 5 years ago we would have went bar hopping and felt awful on Sunday. But ya know what we did instead? We came home and snuggled in bed and talked and watched movies. And because we are old and boring, our Sunday  was super super productive. 

Enter Sunday, the day my patience usually runs thin for some reason. Clayton and Austin made mushrooms that they found the other day. (Gross) so austin is trying to get me to try them. Claytons trying. Leah’s trying. Clayton literally tries shoving one down my throat. I’m so frustrated. But I can’t help but smile. Because I get to put up with this big bafoon for the rest of my life. Pushing me off the hammock. Picking on me. Trying to push me out of my comfort zone by trying new things. And teaching me patience. 

Let me tell you about how he teaches me patience. Sunday I’m vacuuming my car. Extension cords ran from the shop to the shop vac at my car. The shop vac keeps kicking off. Im getting hot pissed. I said “Austin I know he’s in the shop fucking with me” he says “oh no. He’s going pee.” LIES!!! Long story short I keep going to the shop to check the plug. Clayton is behind my car unplugging the shop vac from the cord. Over. And over.  I haven’t laughed that hard in ages. But then, another bear hug. And all was right in the world. 

So basically what I’m saying is this. Men are a handful. They will always be your biggest child. And they will ALWAYS push your buttons. No lie. Always. But, they will always be there for you. They are always your biggest supporter. They will always be able to make you laugh. No lie. Always. Their hugs can solve the worlds problems. And just maybe, if your lucky like I am, they will always be your best friend. No lie. Always. 

Why I can’t drive trucks. Specifically my husbands truck.

Ever had a kidney infection? Well… if you haven’t, count yourself lucky. It hurts. Awful. 

My car was down for whatever reason. So I drove a farm truck to work one day. Half way to work I’m crying in pain so I decide to go to urgent care. I pull in the lot. I’m crying. I shut off the truck. I’m crying. I think I set the e brake. I’m crying. I think I put it in gear. I’m crying. 

I’m sitting in the waiting room and we hear a crash. And I think oh that poor bastard. That sucks. Enter lady in the white pants. “Does someone in here drive a white truck? Anybody?” LIGHT BULB!!! Oh god!!! I do!!! What happened?? 

My truck. Well, my husbands truck. It went down the hill in the parking lot. Ran over the urgent care sign. Knocked the sign down. It was an ordeal. And not the good kind. 

Lucky for me they were getting ready to take that sign down anyway. So, really I did them a favor. I wanna know where my check is for that. I worked hard to take that sign down for them. 

So, this is why I can’t drive trucks. Specifically my husbands truck. 

You can paint shit. But it’s still shit.

Today we were going to Kentucky to visit family for easter. We usually take my Tahoe cause it’s more “family friendly” than my husbands big jacked up 6 speed 5.9, and I’m allowed to drive my car unlike my husbands truck. (That’s a story for another time.) 

So anyway, were driving and my Tahoe starts smoking. I know you’re thinking “quit being a drama queen.” But it was coming from the INSIDE! Where literally my whole world sat. So, I panic and pull over and turn my flashers on. I get out barefooted, cause who drives with shoes on? Grab Leah, broken leg and all. Run to the other side and grab Luke. Run away from the smoking car. Claytons still putting his boots on. So, that settled my fear of being able to get both my children in an emergency. No worries there!! 

Clayton deems the car drivable and we continue on our merry way. So much for “family friendly” right??? 

I guess what I’m saying here is, stop trying to keep up with the jones’! I feel like my Tahoe is relatively nice. I paid a decent little chunk of moolah for this hunk of metal. And it still screwed up. 

Havin stuff doesn’t make you any better off. Havin memories and laughter does. We jumped back in my Tahoe and continued to my dads where I laughed harder than I have in some time. I saw my nephews. I met the biggest fighter ever, my sweet little nephew Noah. Life is what you make of it. Yeah my life is chaos right now. I’m sure yours is too. But in the grand scheme of things is it worth being that upset over? 

A few years ago, my whole day would have been ruined. I would be cussing up a storm and throwing a fit because I paid “X” amount of dollars to have a car that won’t break down and on. And on. But, my babies were safe. My car is still drivable. I got to snuggle sweet Noah and wrestle the others. I got to visit with my daddy. I got to eat some delicious Kentucky cookin. And I got to create memories with my littles. 

So, if you choose, keep on paintin yer shit to keep up with the Jones’. I’m gonna go paint sweet pictures with my littles and enjoy this weather! 😘

Just in case you’re wondering.

This is what my evening looks like. In fact, most of my evenings. So, I’m snuggled on the chair. Leah’s snuggled on the couch. Luke’s in bed and Claytons in the shop. I’m fighting a hella bad cold, so whiskey is the drink of choice tonight. I can already tell it’s working awesome. 😜 

Outside of this, I worked. Picked up my littles. Picked up my husband. Changed my mother in laws tire. Got dinner. Played outside. Put the boy in bed. And now I’m working on homework. 

Perhaps the biggest thing that happened today is we took the first “big girl” steps in Leah’s little world. We enrolled her for kindergarten. She shined bright like a diamond during her meeting with her teacher. I filled out the paperwork while fighting back tears. Leah was too cool for me to sing my song to her. And that’s when I realized it’s happened. I’ve become my parents. She was embarrassed. 

Everyone tells you time goes by too fast. Being 20 when I had her, I of course knew everything and didn’t listen. Looking back I wish I would have taken those extra baby snuggles instead of making her sleep in her crib. I wish I would have played with her in the floor instead of washing those dishes that could have waited. Because literally, i feel like I blinked and now she has her own friends. Her own processes. Her own personality. Her own dances. Mommy is embarrassing. She’s starting her first leg of a long journey that will lead her to amazing places. 

I’m talking of it like she’s going away. But really, my favorite phase of her life so far is almost gone. The phase where she still needs me to wash her hair. And read her bedtime stories. And fasten the barbies dress. And wants to hold my hand at the grocery store. We’re preparing for sleepovers. And dances. And homework. And making “decisions” and riding the school bus. My heart is aching. 

I’m not usually an emotional person. I cried when this sweet little 6 pound 7 ounce baby entered my world and saved me. I cried when she hit her head the first time. I cried when she took her first steps. And when she said I love you. And when she said she didn’t need me to help her. And most recent, when I enrolled her in kindergarten. She has made me what I am today. I will forever be in her debt. She makes life worth living. 

She is so head strong and stubborn. So intelligent. So sweet. So friendly. So just… perfect. I know without a doubt deep in my soul that she is cut out to do amazing things. Being her mother is one of the single greatest honors of my life. I will be by her side supporting in every decision. Even when she wants to get a stupid tattoo on her back. And pierce her belly button. I will support her in her failures. Celebrate her triumphs and do my best to teach her to always be better than she was yesterday. 

To my sweet shugar booger, thank you. And I love you. And please please please just slow down. 💕 

Now that I’m crying, again, I’m going back to my jack and ethics. Have a good night y’all! And snuggle those babies. Even if it means the dishes wait until tomorrow.