I Do What I Wanna

Very few things piss me off. I can usually look at a situation, say “fuck it,” and walk away easily. I’m not hard to get along with, simply put if I don’t like you, I stay away from you. If you annoy me, I avoid you. If you offer unsolicited parenting advice and think it’s ok I may or may not throat punch you. I just can’t be held accountable for my actions once you throw advice in my face.

I know there are touchy subjects when it comes to parenting. I chose to NOT discuss those topics on my blog but at the same time I would like you to know where I stand on certain issues.

If I write something, it’s what works with MY family. So here’s a few things you may not know about me and they may even piss you off but I don’t care because I’m not here for parenting advice. If I want advice I ask my Mom, not strangers.

With that said welcome to my small mind…

1. NONE of my kids were breastfed. I never got milk, meds and techniques didn’t prompt anything. I tried with all 3 and it never happened. My kids were ALL bottle fed and they seem to be doing just fine.

2. I will not homeschool my kids. I believe socializing with peers is a big part of childhood. If you choose to homeschool, more power to you. I don’t feel smart enough to teach my children, I’d rather them receive an education from someone who is trained to do so. My kids will never be a Kimmie Schmitt, tucked away underground alone for years, being taught by a dumbass.

I know kids who were homeschooled and as much shit as I may catch for this; some of them are weird, they live in their own little bubble and walk around waiting for the world to adjust to them. That’s not how life works, and if they attended a regular school they might have figured it out earlier in life.

3. I immunize my children. I believe the benefits outweigh the side affects. If you don’t want to immunize, thats on you. In the event of an outbreak my kids will be protected. It’s like wearing a seat belt. Why not do something that can prevent your death? Whatever your decision was, I don’t care because it ain’t got shit to do with me.

4. I don’t tolerate excessive bullying. There’s a fine line with getting teased and being bullied. A little teasing from peers is good for kids. Excessive bullying is not. Life isn’t always easy, there’s always going to be mean people. We need to allow our kids skin to toughen up. But we don’t want to break their spirit. It’s a fine line to teeter on, trust me I’ve teetered it already.

5. I am completely against co-sleeping. None of my children slept in our bed. It’s a hard habit to break and I enjoy sleeping. Brandon’s lucky he’s allowed to sleep in the bed with me.

6. Co-bathing is disgusting to me. I have nothing else to add to this, I avoid all conversations related to this topic because it grosses me out. No matter how innocent you may see it, I believe it blurs the line of right and wrong and can confuse a child. This is MOST DEFINITELY not up for debate.

I grew up in a time where not every cut needed a band aid. Not every story was told to my mom. The streetlights were my curfew. I played outside alone. I rode my bike in the street. I peed outside. I rolled around in dirt. I ate “ABC” gum off the sidewalk. I don’t remember ever riding in a carseat. I never looked both ways before crossing the street.


I want every parent to know you have to do what’s best for your family. These are my thoughts and my views. What works in my house probably will not work in yours. That’s how diversity thrives and I never want it die.

Don’t lecture me and I won’t lecture you.



Nailed It

I was excited when Jaelyn asked for an Easy Bake Oven. I was even more excited when his Grandma bought him one.

After Jaelyn opened the gift, he started promising everyone delicious treats. “I’ll bake a cake for Jenna, brownies for Jace and I’ll bake Mommy cookies!” Do you see why I was excited? Cookies get me everytime.

The first thing he said to me this morning was, “can we bake using my Easy Bake Oven today?” I never turn down cookies.

I opened the box and pulled the oven out. It was so cute, much cuter than my old Easy Bake Oven. Jaelyn and I read the instructions together. Every new step brought a new level of excitement. I think in his head he was screaming,  “lets bake these cookies, bitch!” I know I was. 

We went to work. Preheated the oven, measured out water, formed dough balls, flatten said dough balls, and slid them suckers in the oven. The instructions said to bake the cookies for 9 minutes. We set a timer.

The instructions and manufacturer end result picture.


During the 9 minutes of bake time, Jaelyn was clearly on edge. He kept checking the timer, talking about the cookies and saying how he couldn’t wait to bake cakes. “Do you think it will have frosting? I like frosting, they should have frosting.”

When the timer went off he flew into the kitchen screaming, “COOKIES ARE READY!” I had to remind him they needed to be pushed into the cooling chamber for a 5 minute cool down period. He wasn’t impressed and Mommy wasn’t either. I was ready to eat my share of heat lamp cooked cookies but directions said we couldn’t. My old Easy Bake Oven didn’t have a cooling chamber, why did this one need it? Whatever.

When the 5 minute timer went off he was more excited than before and so was Mommy. We got our little purple wand and pulled the tray of cookies out….

“What the heck happened?” Jaelyn asked.

I replied, “I don’t know, we followed the directions.”

Jaelyn and I had a good laugh, compared our final product to the picture. I declined my share of cookies and gave them all to him.

He sat down at the kitchen table and started to eat his creation. I heard him talking to himself,  “oh boy, what did I get myself into? The cake will be better, I never really liked cookies anyway.”

Our end result.


Holiday Spirit?



Christmas used to be my favorite time of the year. I loved the smells, the food and the togetherness. I loved the smile on people’s faces when they open gifts from me. I loved the Christmas Eve party with my family. Maybe it has something to do with my first real buzz coming from swigging the adults leftover booze. Ahh, the childhood memories.

This year it feels different. I’m not quite sure what it is but the spirits not there for me. The decorations around the house are annoying me as I try to keep them safe from Jaces grubby little hands. All I hear from my older 2 kids is “I want, I want, I want.” They aren’t spoiled but lately they sound like they may be getting there. I’m not looking forward to scrounging together cash to fill 12 cards for our nieces and nephews. All these things once brought me such joy.

Maybe it’s the major changes we’re all going through as a family. We are all adjusting to my Aunt moving in and not knowing if it’s forever or just temporary is hard. We are all getting to know eachother still. We never know what the next day will bring.

Maybe it’s the fact that this is the first year we have to scrounge together money for gifts. Robbing Peter to buy Paul a gift is no fun. Especially knowing that the money SHOULD be spent on paying off bills. But I can’t deny any of the kids in our family a gift. It may not be much but at least it’s something.

I need my funk to go away. I want to enjoy this time of the year. This is the first year in almost 4 years that my Grandparents will be in town. This will be the first year since I was around 12 that I will be opening gifts Christmas morning along side my Aunt. All reasons to have the holiday spirit, but I don’t. And I don’t know exactly why.

Maybe if I bake a bunch of Christmas cookies and eat all of them, I will feel better… or worse. Whatever, it’s a risk worth taking.

Baby Fever

While pregnant with Jaelyn I was a single waitress living with my parents. My pregnancy was a complete shock. I had declared, 2 weeks prior to finding out, I was NEVER having kids. I always jinx myself.

During my pregnancy with Jaelyn I inguired about a hysterectomy. Yes, a hysterectomy. I wanted EVERYTHING gone. At the time, Jaelyn was more than I had bargained for.

Since I would be down for the count during Jaelyns delivery and they might go in for a tubal ligation, they could go ahead and take the whole shabang. No more kids or periods, that life sounded amazing.

I am thankful I didn’t meet the criteria for a hysterectomy or tubal ligation,  at that time. After marrying Brandon I couldn’t wait to have more babies and grow our family. 

Brandon begged me not to have a tubal ligation after Jenna was born. He wasn’t done making babies. I agreed. Despite being done making babies before I ever started but whatever. I am thankful everyone talked me out of it but I was even more thankful no one spoke out against it after Jace. Hallelujah! 

When I was pregnant with Jace my OBGYN asked me if I was interested in any kind of birth control after delivery. I repied, “yes, I ‘m interested in the kind that prevents this from ever happening again.” The doctor laughed at me. I wasn’t joking, I was dead serious.  

Recently I’ve been having baby fever. Leave me alone, my uterus aches. Their sweet little heads, the smell of their body, the whimper in their cries, I miss cuddling up to a newborn. I yearn to be the only one who can make the baby stop crying. I want to smell baby lotion again and make bottles. I want itty bitty diapers that accompany those tiny baby tushies. Oh, and those little gas smiles that make your heart melt even though you know they aren’t real. I miss all those sweet moments.

Then reality hits and I remember.

I remember the bad times. The time Jaelyn peed in my mouth, while smearing poop all over my arms. I remember the projectile vomit that made him look like a scene out of the Exorcists. He was our “sickly” baby

I remember Jenna turning her butthole into a water spout and clearing two feet with her poop stream. I remember her gas belly aches, all overs of the night. She was our “gas drop” baby. 

I remember Jace waking up at 4am, ready to play. I remember him not holding his bottle until he was 10 months old. He was the “baby of the family” and suffered from all the symptoms. 

I remember the cycle of 2 hour feedings in the middle of the night. I remember the endless ear infections because of teething. The antibiotics side effects were horrid.

The bad times are such vivid memories. 

Everyone says the good times outweigh the bad and they make it all worth it in the end. That statement is only partially true in my eyes. The good times do not outweigh the bad.

I have often found myself thinking back to when the kids were smaller. I always remember the poopy situations and the rough times. I can’t recall the first time any of the kids gave me a gas smile but I can recall every night they peed on me. I don’t think the good outweigh the bad but one way or another I do think it’s all worth it in the end.

With that being said, I am thankful my baby fever passed before I did something that would put me elbow deep in pea-green baby shit again.

As we change the diaper, we realize the diaper changes us.



Naptime WAS Sacred


If you follow me on my Facebook page then you know #NaptimeisSacred. If you are a SAHM then you know #NaptimeisSacred. Heck, if you are a PARENT you know #NaptimeisSacred. You know who doesn’t know this? Punk ass teenagers, that’s who. Parents of teens don’t be offended; I don’t think all teens are punks, just the three that ruined naptime for me.

I’ll never forget that day. I remember everything like it was yesterday when in reality it’s been over a month. Every time I lay down to sleep, I think about it. Every time I’m home alone, I think about it. Naptime hasn’t been the same since. Naptime is no longer truly sacred for me.

I had been up the night before writing a blog. I had only gotten three hours of sleep. Jaelyn was at school. I had just fed Jenna and Jace soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch. I could barely keep my eyes open. I was excited for naptime. I needed a nap, bad.

I put them both down to nap in separate rooms. They both fell asleep without any problems. I smoked a cigarette, made sure all the doors were locked and went upstairs for my nap.

I remember tossing and turning for about 30 minutes. I would doze off but wake back up within minutes. Which isn’t unusual for me during naptime, I’m always worried I won’t hear the kids when they wake up. I have this weird fear of waking up to the kids running around like wild banshees.

All of a sudden our dogs started barking. It was a crazy, loud and even ferocious bark. I thought maybe the UPS man had dropped off a package. I wasn’t expecting one but with the holidays so close sometimes my mom has gifts shipped directly to our house. I should have got up and checked but I was too tired. I knew the kids would be up within the hour and I wanted to get as much sleep as possible. The dogs barking calmed down. They slowly stopped, like dogs normally do when they’re barking at something outside and it disappears. It was 1:07 PM the last time I checked the clock.

I started to fall back asleep but was startled again when the dogs started barking crazy, just like before. I looked at the clock it was 1:19PM. For crying out loud, I want to freaking sleep! At this point I knew I had to investigate, if nothing else I needed to yell at the dogs so they’d stop barking. I grabbed a single package of wipes. The crinkling of the wrapper scares the dogs. I didn’t want to yell and wake the kids up. I was just going to toss the wipes down stairs and tell the dogs to go lay down.

I got to the top of the stairs and the dogs stopped barking. It didn’t slowly stop like usual, with a few growls and even a single bark. No, it was an abrupt stop, leaving a dead silence downstairs. Something’s not right. That’s not how my dogs stop barking.

Then I heard a male voice say, “Ahhh shit!” I swear on my life, I almost crapped myself. That’s not Brandon’s voice. Who the hell is in my house? I should have panicked. I should not have been able to think clearly but I could and I was! I don’t have a gun. We own two machetes; one in the garage and one next to my side of the bed. If I move, the floor will creak. They don’t know I’m home. I was thinking so clearly, to this day I am still shocked my mind was able to respond this way. Jenna and Jace are 10 feet from me, sleeping. I can’t wake them up. I have to get this guy out of my house, quietly. Holy shit, what do I do?

In a stern voice, while possibly peeing my pants, I said “You are on video surveillance right now. You have to the count of three to get the fuck out of my house, before I cock this son-of-a-bitch and come down GUNS BLAZING. One…… Two……” Just then my front door slammed shut. Holy shit, it worked. I just threatened to shoot a man with a package of wipes!

I ran down stairs and looked out the window by the front door. There was a young kid about 15 years old walking casually down my drive way with his cell phone in his hand. He was clearly making a call on speaker phone. He turned around and looked back at my house. I feel like our eyes met. I’ll never forget his eyes. Jenny, stop watching him and lock the damn door. He walked across the street to a vacant house. He was standing on the front porch. My door was still locked. How did he get in?

I ran back upstairs to get my phone so I could call the police. I decided to go into Jenna’s room and look out her bedroom window at the house across the street. The kid that was in my house along with 2 other kids, walked from behind the vacant house to the house next store. They’re body language and demeanor reminded me of a Big Foot sighting. None of them looked in the direction of my house. They weren’t talking. In fact one of them even put his hand on the side of his face, blocking his profile from my view. That little asshole, THEM assholes!

I handled the police. Then I called Brandon crying, then I called my mom crying then I sat in the chair and cried a little bit longer until the kids woke up. They slept until almost 3:15 PM, which could have been a glorious naptime had some punks not ruined it.


At the bus stop I told another parent what happened. She had woke up to texts from her sister, who lived a couple houses down, saying there were three teenage boys walking around looking in windows and knocking on everyone’s door. So they had been around the neighborhood stealing from everyone while they were at work. Punk ass teenagers!

We haven’t had any more problems but that doesn’t mean I feel safe. A teenage boy was able to gain access to my home, what’s stopping someone with more life experience?

Naptime was scared in my house and now it’s ruined. I have yet to sleep alone since it all happened. Maybe one day I’ll be able to get back into my daily routine of naps, I miss sleeping all day. One day I’ll be able to say naptime is sacred and really mean it.


I’m in denial with a lot of things in my life but the biggest one is weight loss.

I love all things bad for my body. I love tanning, I love eating, I love watching TV, I love drinking, I love smoking, I love chocolate and I love sitting on my butt all day. I hate exercise, I hate being outside, I hate sweating and I hate putting forth an effort on my appearance. I really suck at being a healthy human being.

I have the motivation in me. I’ve lost the weight before but I have always gotten pregnant and gained it back. With my tubes tied now I know that once I lose the weight this time it’s gone. But who the hell wants to spend hours at a gym? Who wants to sweat? Not me. You know what I want to do all damn day; sit on Facebook.

I cancelled my YMCA membership 6 months ago. Brandon got me a treadmill and an Elliptical which aside from a few weight lifting machines is all I really used at the gym anyways. I haven’t really used either yet and probably never will. I’ll never forget the day I cancelled my membership. It was beyond awkward for me. I hate doing things like that, it’s like breaking up with someone face to face.

I walked up to the lady at the front desk. People came in after me and they needed to get their card swiped. So I leaned in close to the lady and said in a loud whisper, “who do I speak with about cancelling my membership?” She looked me up and down. I know what she was thinking. Shit, I was thinking it too. You NEED this membership. I did need it but screw her. I couldn’t afford it and my amazing husband brought me machines home! I had such high hopes.

The YMCA lady really had nerve though. She said, “before you cancel your membership you really need to ask yourself, is this the best thing for me? In a couple of months you may need our services again. Are you sure this is the best decision for you?’ I wanted to scream, “CANCEL MY DAMN MEMBERSHIP!” But I didn’t. I just said, “Yeah I’m good.” I wasn’t good. I needed that membership. I still do.

I had Brandon wheel the treadmill out to the curb. We put a “free” sign on it and someone took it home in a matter of hours. That particular treadmill wasn’t strong enough for my huge hinny. Excuses, excuses. The elliptical squeaks and hops when I use it. Excuses, Excuses. I’ve only used it for 5 minutes. I was scared for my life. I don’t want to die on an elliptical. If I’m dieing, it’s while having sex and eating chocolate. Excuses, Excuses! So I decided I will just cut back on my food intake and whatever I lose I’ll be happy with. I haven’t lost shit. Not one pound in six months.

I would love to continue writing but someone gifted me a bix of chocolate candies and they aren’t going to eat themselves. You see folks, that’s denial at it’s best. Excuses, excuses.

Completely worth it.


Growing old


As I’m fixing my hair something catches my eye on the crown of my head. I lean in closer. Why is that piece of hair standing straight up, and why is it so short? Shit. It’s the gray hair I just plucked 4 days ago. I can’t believe that it’s back already! There once was a time when I would dye my hair just because I wanted a fun new look, usually every 6 months or so. As I stare at that one gray hair I must laugh. I just dyed my hair 3 weeks ago. It needs a touch up already? I’m nowhere near as young as I feel.

When I’m with Brandon and the kids I feel young, wild and free. The kids remind me of my childhood and bring out my inner child. They keep my mind young by thinking quickly and acting fast. Brandon brings out the teen in me. He keeps my heart young and full of love. I need them around me every day or else I worry I may start to feel my age.

My mind and my heart feel so young and yet my body tells a different story. I don’t know why I expected it to keep up with the rest of me considering all the damage I’ve done to it. (Tanning, smoking, drugs, alcohol, junk food and every day normal wear and tear) I haven’t been the least bit kind to it. Why should I expect it to be kind to me in my old age? I may be a little vain. But really, who isn’t?

When I was younger, I wanted to look like a Kardashian. I know right, please shoot younger me. I had the long black hair, and great complexion. It was awesome at the time but lately I can’t help but think how stupid I was. Why a Kardashian? I believe I’m naturally more beautiful than they are. Why black hair instead of my naturally dark brown? Why tanner skin, I already have an olive complexion most women would die for. I don’t know where my head was; it had to be up my butt. I’m over the Kardashian phase now. I just want to be me because I’m awesome.

I want my kids to see me for who I really am. I want my daughter to grow up knowing that she’s beautiful. She doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone. I don’t want my son’s growing up thinking women have to change what they don’t like or them thinking they need to change themselves. I want them to have normal expectations of their future mates, and not photo shopped Play Boy/Girl images.

I just recently finished watching the Showtime series, The Big C. You ever see it? It made me cry, it made me laugh and it made me think. Cathy, the main character, didn’t abuse anything in her life. She always wore sunscreen and was straight edge. Here Cathy is fighting for her life against Cancer and look at me. I have abused everything that can be abused. (except kids) I had so much fun and lived such a wild life. Why should my ending be any better than hers? I know the show’s not real, but it could be. Any one of us could be Cathy.

How does one enjoy so many fun things without a negative impact? I always thought I looked old if my skin was pale. I used to tan every day. I was like tanning mom; my mom even referenced her when talking about me. I know, right? I wasn’t that bad, at least I didn’t think I was. Now I look at my skin when it’s tan and think I look like a brown leather briefcase. Tanning has me very paranoid now. Cathy was diagnosed with melanoma.

I love climbing in the tanning beds. The warmth from the bulbs always makes my back feel good. I love the way it would clear up acne or tan away skin flaws. I enjoy a good-looking tan and I love sunbathing on the beach. I’m just so paranoid about melanoma now!

No one wants to show their age. I am no exception to that. However, I would rather be a hot mess in my 30’s and alive in my 60’s than be cute in my 30’s and dead in my 60’s. Before I had Brandon and the kids I never gave any of this a second thought. But now-a-days growing old is all I can think about.

I can’t wait to be a Grandma. I can’t wait to retire and grow old with Brandon. I can’t wait till his beard is all white. I’m excited to see how my kids turn out. I’m excited to watch them learn life’s lessons the hard way. None of those things ever sounded appealing to me when I was younger. I thought I would fight growing old and by the time I hit 50 I’d kill myself. That’s not even a funny joke anymore. I NEED to be there when my kids are older. I WANT to be there. I want to get senior discounts with Brandon. I NEED TO GIVE MY GRANDKIDS A WEDGIE!

None of these things ever mattered before but now I have a future. The kids give me a reason to want better. Brandon gives me a reason to want more. I really mean it when I say forever never sounded sweeter.

I don’t care about growing old anymore. I’m just excited I get to experience it with my family. Not everyone does, Cathy didn’t. 

Rock on my Butt and flowers on my head…


The other day Jenna and I were driving past a cemetery. She got really excited, in her eyes they were big rocks with flower trophies on top. She wanted to climb them and bring all the flowers home. “Can we PLEASE go there? I really need to go in there, PLEEEEEEASE!!!” Damn it. 

I should have just told her not today but that would insinuate that it was acceptable to play in cemeteries. There was never going to be a day we could play there. So instead I told her we couldn’t play in there BECAUSE it’s a cemetery. She asked, “what’s a cemetery? Can we go there and play? I will be good at the cemetery, I promise.” Damn it.

I explained when you get older, things can happen and people pass away. Their body stays here but their spirit goes to Heaven. We bury their body in the ground and we put the big rock on top with their name on it so we have somewhere to go and talk to the person. A lot of people bring them flowers and leave them by the big rocks. It’s not a place to play.

She was content with that explaination and didn’t ask any follow-up questions; which lead me to believe we’d never speak of it again. Hallelujah! 

A couple of days pass by and we drive past the same cemetery again but Jaelyn’s with us now. Jenna says, “Jaelyn when mommy gets old and dies, we’re gonna bury her body in there and put a rock on her butt and flowers on her head. It’s ok though because we can talk to her whenever. Mommy I will bring you flowers and talk to you everyday before nap time.” Damn it. 

Jaelyn looked horrified. “What’s she talking about mommy? Are you dying? Mommy I’ll miss you when you’re dead.” Daaamn it.

I know that despite Jenna being half Jaelyn’s age she comprehends things better than he does. This may have been a car conversation for Jenna but it shouldn’t have been for Jaelyn. He needs to be sat down where he could ask all his questions and have my undivided attention. I tried so hard to avoid the conversation in the car but he wouldn’t drop it. He was forcing me to answer. Damn it. 

There are so many reasons my kids might end up on a shrinks couch that I have to answer these kind of questions vaguely but truthfully. It worked enough to stop the conversation but from the look on Jaelyn’s face, I knew this wasnt the last time we’d discuss death. It was just a matter of time. Damn it.

A week or so passes by and Brandon comes home from work. It’s late and the kids are already in bed. Brandon goes upstairs to take a shower. Jaelyn comes to the top of the stairs and in a loud whisper says, “mommy I’m gonna miss you when you’re dead.” DAMN IT! 

First off, I totally spaced telling Brandon about the whole cemetery conversation with Jenna and it had been over a week. Secondly, I never told him about the car conversation with Jaelyn either. Brandon works long, hard hours. When he gets home he’s not just physically tired but he’s mentally tired too. I always give him run downs of that day’s happenings but for some reason it never came up. But it did that night. Damn it. 

When he walked into the hallway Jaelyn called him in his room and gave him the sob story on how much he’s gonna miss me. Brandon comes downstairs and says with an exasperated look, “So, Jaelyn’s crying because he’s gonna miss you when you’re dead.” Damn it.

With the look on Brandon’s face combined with the week I had just had all I could do was laugh. This was the first week of the summer and Brandon was working extremely long days. I explained it all to him. His reactions were the same as mine. We both knew that conversation should have never happened like that but it couldn’t be avoided. After Brandon had talked with him that night I thought it was finally over. Hallelujah!

At 3 am the next morning  Jaelyn came in our room crying about my death. I was as understanding as I can be at 3 am, “dude, I’m not dying, now get your butt back in bed.” I’m not lucky enough to die anytime soon, DAMN IT!

Why am I the one whose death we have to keep talking about? Can we pick someone elses, ANYONE elses, death? What about Brandon? Yeah let’s talk about him dying. Let’s throw him under the bus damn it! It was 3 am and I had been hearing about my death for weeks now. I was willing to throw anyone under the death bus.

We haven’t had any more death talks and it’s been a couple of months now. I know the war isn’t over but I feel like this battle has been fought and won. With any luck it will never be spoke of again, until I actually do die. Then Brandon can have this talk with them because I’m done talking about my own death. By the way, I’ve already called dibs on dying first…