Heartache & Soul.

When I set out on this journey, I remember my mom telling me that it wouldn’t be easy. My dad told me that he would support whatever decision I made, but that I needed to make sure that the boys were taken care of.

It’s been months of feeling trapped. Feelings of discomfort. It was similar to not being able to handle the growing pains. Do you recall when you’d get them in the middle of the night and they hurt so bad, but “you were growing” so it was fine? That’s how I felt. I felt like I was growing but there wasn’t enough room for me.

So I walked away. I walked away like I said I would never do. It’s scary. Scary knowing that I’m walking into the next chapter of my life without the person I thought I’d spend forever with. It’s funny how things can change for you. Change in so many ways that make you feel lighter. Like everything is going to be okay. The feeling of peace. How is it that I’m so okay with everything? I emotionally detached myself for months. I watched myself do it. I read books, I started working out harder, hell I even started writing more.

I can feel myself being fine. I think the trauma is watching my boys miss their dad. Not knowing why he’s taking his stuff from the home we once shared. Having him come and sit for a movie, only to turn around and go back to his own place. It’s watching my oldest cry on my bed as I hold him without either of us saying a word. I see myself in him so terribly much and I know he’s trying to be strong. So, the moment I saw him breaking down, I knew that he didn’t need words, he just needed to be held. And that’s what I’ll continue to do until he says otherwise.

My heart breaks for them. I keep thinking that maybe it’s just me being selfish. Maybe I should just stick it out until they turn 18 and then I can start my life, right? But then I remember, they deserve me at my happiest. This is me at my happiest in a very long time. It just took some risk to bring it out. And for that, I can only apologize and keep moving forward. Moving towards making sure the boys are better adjusted before school starts. That they are continuously reminded how much we both love them, but we are going to love them from two different homes.

It won’t always be like this. Not forever. It’ll get better. It just takes time. And lots of patience.

The A Word

I had an abortion. Every day since then I have never been the same. I have never forgiven myself. I’ve gone through multiple therapists, I’ve spoken to others that had been in my position, yet I’m still in the same position, hateful.

It wasn’t that it’s what I wanted. It’s what I needed. I needed to have it; it was me choosing my life. It was me ensuring that my boys had their mom for the rest of their lives. It was making sure that Eric didn’t raise them in just sport shorts and t-shirts. It was making sure that my mom didn’t raise them to be spoiled because they truly believe their Nana is rich rich.

My body couldn’t sustain another human. I was going to continue having seizures if I didn’t terminate the pregnancy. I just wasn’t healthy enough. How can you have a body that just lets you down like that? It was and sometimes still is the biggest hurt I have ever felt.

So last week when I saw the Roe V Wade ruling, my heart sank. My heart sank for the women that are going to go through unthinkable and unimaginable things because some old guys think they know what’s best for a woman’s body. Women that are too young, don’t have the money, the insurance or even the sense (because sometimes you just mess up) are going to have to bring a child into THIS world that they can’t take care of. So what happens when the foster families won’t take children? Or when child abuse becomes greater? Then what happens Mr. Old Men? People think that by “saving lives” they’re actually saving lives. Newsflash, y’all aren’t. You’re making this Country look like a damn fool and you’re turning the clocks back way too far. I hope that when you were making this decision, you were thinking about your daughters, your granddaughters, nieces and every female in your family. It’s going to hit you one day, but it’ll be too late. Your actions are going to have consequences and karma will always come around.



PS: I’m always down for a good road trip. If you ever feel the need to go to another state for help, I’ll gladly take you. No strings attached, other than a nice road trip followed by unhealthy road trip snacks.

And The Thunder Rolls

I feel like I was sidetracked, and this made sense to start another part of the story. About a month ago I felt compelled to begin the decluttering process in my house. I did a small amount of the “Does it bring you joy?” I think it was more along the lines of “there’s no more room, let it go.”

I got rid of clothes that didn’t fit, blankets that were definitely from the old days and then I started with random household items. As I was going through my closet, which has only just begun, I sat on the floor and wept.

See, my mom had given me two of my baby dresses that have sat in my closet for years. The dresses have followed me from apartment to rental to the house I now own. They’re a part of me, my story.

Ok. I know I had some bomb fashion as a child.

So why the hell was I crying about these dresses? I feel like a part of me was always expecting to have more kids. I mean my kids are a lot. I don’t know how my mom had four of us and managed to stay sane. But, hey, I wanted a girl. I felt like that was going to complete the family.

When I was diagnosed with epilepsy in late 2018, I think I became even more hardheaded than I already was. What did I decide to do? Go against every doctor’s advice and try for another baby. By March 2019, after a lovely stay in the ICU that I cannot even remember, I had done it. Until I couldn’t.

I’m not sure I’m ready to feel the wrath of the world knowing more. Maybe not yet. Or ever. Time will tell.



How Did You Know?

Was there ever a moment when you were looking at child one, two or three and decided at that moment, nope, no more kids for me? Maybe they had just really worked your nerves that day. Maybe the pregnancy was everything less than stellar. It wasn’t the flaunt your belly and look so graceful like so many show off on social media. There’s almost always a reason. I’ve even heard that after something special happens, you’ll feel “complete” and just know that your family has everything you need.

I don’t ever remember feeling completely done. I didn’t think I’d want more kids after I had Preston. But I also didn’t think a lot of things in my life would happen. After I had Owen, which was such a gross pregnancy, I can recall the moment my OB told me the chances of having any more kids was slim to none. Oh okay. That just got decided for me. I mean it’s not like I ever liked being pregnant. It was rough, to say the least, but for someone to tell me that I couldn’t, well that was a challenge.

It wasn’t until 2016 that we were brave enough to try for that baby girl. Between the constant all day sickness, the multiple trips to the emergency room, followed by brief stays in and out for dehydration and antibiotics for who knows what, we found out it was going to be another boy. Oh, how hard I cried. It wasn’t that I was mad or disappointed, I think it was just the idea of knowing I was risking so much and I thought The Big Guy would cut me a small break. The months that followed and leading up to Little Lucas Quinn coming into the world were rough. We tried to hide it for as long as possible knowing that at any moment something could go wrong…

Alas, after a long evening/night of walking Town Center for the boys to trick or treat, a fresh shower was everything I could want. Unfortunately, there’s nothing like laying down and feeling like you’ve peed yourself. Whoops. Possible TMI. But it’s my story. With my mom laughing at me as I waddle to the bathroom, I tell her that no, it’s still happening, and she explains my water must have broken and I should probably go to the hospital. November 1, 2016, Lucas Q came into the world looking exactly like his daddy. He was everything I could’ve imagined. Another amazingly perfect baby boy. My heart had never been so full. Why is it that I still wanted more? Why was I set on trying again? There was something telling me to.

But for now, I was content. Content with being a boy mom to the most wonderful trio I could imagine.


There are so many moments in life when giving up would’ve been the easiest solution. I’ve lived in this “fight or flight” mode for most of my life. I can’t fully understand why, but I’ve told myself one too many times that I needed to learn how to manage this mode. Not manage but decrease the urge.

I saw a quote the other day and it hit me. It hit me because as I’m writing this, on the outside everything is fine. I take care of my boys, my job keeps me busy, and I run the house as semi as any other bat shit crazy mom. Inside, I’m broken. There’s no amount of working out, starvation or sleepless nights that’ll change it.

No amount of medication for anxiety or depression will save me. I have to save myself. I have to rescue the part of me that hasn’t been able to heal. Heal. It’s like when you put Neosporin and expect your cut to be fixed instantly. That’s not how it works. Healing takes time. Healing takes patience. Patience is something that I have never been good at. This time, I don’t have a choice but to be.

Now, the journey continues, and I hope that one day, the pain I’ve caused, the pain I feel, can heal. I refuse to let myself stay toxic and hurt inside. I refuse to push everyone I care about away. I refuse to continue the ugly cycle. I have to be the change. I have to be better. I have to show my boys the best version of me. And I’ll keep going until I get back to her.



And Here We Go Again

I don’t think there is an exact feeling I haven’t felt since my last episode. I’ve drowned the pain in loud music and as much busy work as I can handle. Hell, maybe more than I can handle. But I just keep going. That’s how it goes, you keep going until you don’t have any more in you. At least that’s the pattern I follow.

I’ve been told I do too much. I’ve been told that I need to rest. My nights have become restless, and my mind continues to wander. Don’t forget this. Did you make sure to do that? It becomes never ending. I don’t really know what it’s like to fully rest. Is it something you learn? Ha. I will say, it’s been added to my bucket list of things I’d like to make happen this year.

On to the next phase of testing 🤞🏼

But back to the main focus of writing tonight. I was forced into tests on tests of my brain. It’s mainly to show the world what a genius’s brain looks like. (insert corny laugh) I actually had to take one to ensure that I didn’t have any abnormal growths, which I don’t. For that, I’m grateful. I have to make sure to continuously remind myself of that. Not that I don’t believe it, but I actually am. I’m grateful to still have my boys, my job and my ability to drive myself around. I know that at any moment it could be taken from me. Or vice versa.

The second test, an EEG, it wasn’t as pleasant. It’s why I felt the need to talk. It’s why I started to panic and think that something really is wrong with me. I got to lay down while a lady put wires and glue all over my head. I have excellent test skills. But my EEG said otherwise. It’s showing that maybe my wavelengths aren’t as strong as they should be. Maybe the medication I’ve been on for the past three years has been a waste. A waste of time and money. A waste of trial and error that could’ve been used on some other options.

Getting this glue out of hair is the WORST.

I called my mom. I needed her. No matter how low I am, it’s something about her that reminds me of peace. It took her reexplaining that the medication I’m currently on is to control my seizures, it cannot fix my actual brain wave lengths. I will always have to live with epilepsy. Fudgeeescicle. I never ever wanted to believe that it was something I’d long term, forever and ever live with. A part of me still doesn’t want to believe it. I feel like maybe I’d be able to continue my semi healthy lifestyle and keep trudging along.

So what are my next moves?

I get to take another test in five weeks. I get to go to the neurologist and fight her on the medication she feels I need. I get to try other methods of relief that people may or may not feel a certain way about. Legally. I get to keep moving at this fast pace because it’s the only way for me to not go crazy. But most importantly, I get to spend the next seventy days with my boys and enjoying our summer together. Now that’s the best and most grateful feeling I can have right now.

We just don’t know what the otherwise outcome would be.



Getting Caught Up

It’s crazy to me how well things can be going, only for it to blow up in your face. Not in the literal, holy cow look at that dumpster fire, but you know what I mean.

It all started out as a normal Girl’s Night. My sister-in-law and I were all kinds of prepared for what the night would bring. We ate, we drank and we danced the night away. You see, she’s a stay home mom of the youngest of my nieces. Then there is me, who of course never lets loose anymore. And boy did we. We danced and sang all night. It was everything I needed to start out Mother’s Day weekend. Yes, yes I get an entire weekend.

What I didn’t expect was the next morning everything would be flipped upside down. It’s like the past two years didn’t mean a thing. It’s like no matter how hard I had worked, had trained my body, it still failed me. I can’t remember much, only what Eric told me happened. And I don’t think it gets easier seeing the look on his face when I wake up. Do you know what it feels like to disappoint someone? You aren’t human if you don’t. It’s bound to have happened at least once in your life. Well, that’s the face I get to wake up to. Even though it isn’t my fault, even though I had no control over what my body would do. And that hurts. It hurts knowing that something is supposed to keep you safe, your body is meant to keep you from harm, and it still has the ability to fail you.

I’m not sure what this next chapter brings. Believe it or not this is the first time in a long time that I don’t have a plan. I’m the biggest planner. I live with so many calendars to ensure nothing is forgotten. But at this very moment, I’m blank. I just want to hide away like a hermit crab. Run away from every small problem. Being afraid of your own life is the crumbiest feeling.

Grateful for Mondays

I’ve worked contract for most of my adult life and in 2016 I started a part time gig I never expected to have come so far in.

What started as working Monday mornings from 8-12 turned into all week phone calls about random stories. It’s giving out my number because he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. It’s a full time job without it being a full time job. I don’t get the benefits. I don’t get sick or vacation. What’s a 401k?

So what keeps me going? How have I lasted through ups downs, good and bad?

Visiting the cows 🐮🐄

I stay because every summer since I’ve started my kids have come with me to the office. I stay because when I got sick or when I was pregnant, I had him coming to me instead of me having to leave the house. When Covid hit, there I was dropping off groceries outside of his door and making sure he had plenty of Lysol and working from across his lawn. It’s the small moments of hearing stories and being reminded of my grandpa. It’s him watching my kids grow and them getting to hear the stories of the good ol’ days.

I don’t stay for the money. I stay for the happiness and the chance to watch my kids grow. To be there whenever my kids need me, when my family needs me. Because a job isn’t supposed to consume your life. Make it about your happiness and everything will fall into place 🖤

We had a full office today & I wouldn’t trade it for the world 😅

The Long Road

I never knew what life would be like after raising babies. I mean, I’d been raising babies since I was technically a kid. And according to my mom I didn’t help her with my siblings, but my siblings said otherwise in a conversation the other day and I won’t call my mom out again! (wink wink) Even if you’re the oldest, you’re considered a parent to your siblings. Or so social media leads you to believe. We always believe the internet. Now we’re off topic. I’ve been writing, but it’s been more private and I thought how unfair it was that I was leaving every single four people that read my blog in the dark about my wild life! So thank you and maybe I’ll work on coming back.

Our summers are consisting of Pine Torch blankets & movies in bed 🤩😎 Yes that’s Godzilla 🔥

My youngest is 4.5 and I sure am feeling the baby blues. It’s a really odd feeling because I’ve always known when I would be done having kids, but now watching my three boys grow up, which is amazing in itself, has just been astonishing. Where did the time go? We’re in the summer of 2021 and I now have a third grader and holy cow a sixth grader. He’s literally right at my height and I refuse to admit it to him. With the kids growing like weeds and knowing how to wipe their own asses, I realized that it was time I started to buckle in and grow up too. Like look for something more. Because obviously the mom thing, DIY lady, bookkeeper, administrative assistant & fabric representative isn’t enough.

Do you ever feel like you aren’t doing enough even though you’re literally spread too thin? That’s me. So in 2018 when I started getting sick, everyone told me to slow down. I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but it’s just so difficult and I’ve found myself in the same place. The only difference is now my body just literally will shut down and I’ll fall asleep on the couch in the middle of the afternoon and miss things. Oh the battles I lose. I don’t think I had a real point of this, just a hey y’all I’m back. I’m working really hard on me, the family & trying to force myself to keep the classes in check and grow my adult life a little bit.

Ugh. On another note, the other day I was told by a former classmate how they were celebrating their ten year class reunion and it pretty much sucked because homeschooling and graduating a year early left me without friends, a prom and all of the “fun” things that I’m now missing out on. Please tell me I’m not missing out on anything and all the cool kids aren’t cool anymore.


Love Sunset

Don’t Look At Me Crazy!

I don’t think I can ever start by saying my life is calm. I’m Queen of Chaos. I’d say that I used to thrive on it, but at this point in life I’m just trying to survive.

My two oldest will be starting face to face learning on Thursday. YES, the school will have my kids starting a routine at the end of the week. I don’t make the rules, but I’m going to try and follow them. We’ve been working on getting school supplies organized and buying the “normal” school items. Clothes, shoes, lunch kits and oh masks. So we’ve got that going on.

Lucas has decided that he too needs to go to school. Look, he isn’t wrong. It’s just that he’s my BABY! He’ll be four in a little over a month and I’m no where near ready for it. Between me and you, he could stay with me forever because even though he is JUST LIKE ME, I am not prepared for him growing up.

Anyhowwww, I won’t start the water works. You’re going to see that Lucas Q himself is the King of Water Works. As I stated before, he’s my baby and he sure knows how to thrive on it. After we hit the milestone of going potty like a big boy, he realized that I would “treat” him as a reward system….We haven’t let that go, well I have, but he hasn’t. Last week, I finally had a day of no school and was able to venture out to Target with the boys. It wasn’t truly an adventure because I just needed my monthly medications, but hey you take what you can these days.

We go into Target, pack my purse into the cart and get a rolling. Drop into the pharmacy for them to tell me some of my prescriptions weren’t ready…Oh you need twenty more minutes, great! That’s when it happened. Lucas’s epic meltdown. I knew it was coming. I saw the signs. Lucas said “I get a toy” and I calmly stated that we weren’t here for toys. Whimper. I looked at Lucas and the puppy dog eyes come out. I responded with “No bubba, not today”. He had had it with me…His legs hit the cold floor and he began kicking and screaming with absolutely no care in the world and kept it moving. At this point I would give in and we’d hit that toy section. Not today, today I knew that even though my migraine was spewing I didn’t have a choice. I looked at his big brother, Preston, knowing that he was feeling the pressure of panic. Around this time, I see an elderly lady with her basket coming and I move my cart so she can get around me and the chaos clan that I surround myself with. I mean, they are my kids so I guess I have to keep them! (haha)

I can’t wait to show him this when he graduates 💁🏻‍♀️

That old lady was the biggest (insert lengthy cuss words) I had ever met. Her eyes were cold and her mouth was loud. She wanted to let me know how bad of a mom I was. My kid was on the floor and squealing at that AND I of all people was allowing it. It was probably one of my worst moments. I didn’t know why it made me so angry, who was she to judge when she didn’t know me. She didn’t know that I’ve been trying for months with balancing our work and home life schedule or that our potty training was rougher than expected. She didn’t know a dang thing about me but she was quick to judge it in this very moment.

Mama’s I know it’s rough and I know that some days are better than others. We get up and we keep going. We go until we can’t anymore and then some. I’m sorry that sometimes people think it’s okay to judge, it isn’t. I know your kids aren’t bad kids. I know that sometimes it just happens. I bet it’s their dad’s fault. If your Target has a Starbucks, grab that drink because you deserve it. You deserve it all. Screw that Karen who thinks she knows your life. If you are a Karen, please stop. You’re slowly breaking down women and that isn’t okay. We’re supposed to come together, not tear each other apart.