Per our Society, Rape is just something that Happens.

Rape Happens. But it shouldn't. 

Yesterday, a friend posted a clip from CNN, about the judge who had the audacity to ask a young girl why she "didn't just keep her knees shut" to avoid getting raped while at a party. A few weeks back, Brock Turner was released with less than a slap on the wrist because he made poor decisions for "20 minutes of fun", after raping a young woman at a party. Another story today came through, about the 17 year old boy who raped a TODDLER, while recording it live for some perv watching over the internet, who was given a lesser sentence and basically probation instead of prison. A college student (football player) at a school here in NC was just accused of rape this week as well... and I KNOW he DID it... because two months ago, that asshole also raped one of my best friends. 

Sadly, the thing that most people hear and pay attention to is the part about how the girls were at the parties. Where was the toddlers parents? Boys will be boys, right? They have so many hormones raging that sometimes, they just can't think clearly... they don't MEAN to hurt her... they just got excited and got a little out of hand. Let me clarify for you in case you're one of the low life's that follow this train of thought... you're ignorant and disgusting. 

I mentor and counsel and console and love on so many girls, women, and children who have been through this, quite regularly. I'm not a therapist. I have never been to school. I don't always have the words or the answers, and it always takes time and is ALWAYS a different conversation with each person. I'm nothing fancy, but unfortunately, I'm *Seasoned*. I'm not proud of this, or bragging in any way... because the only reason I can help them through it is because I helped myself through it as well... I spoke to my friend (the one who was raped most recently) a few days ago. As we were discussing her situation, the anger and outrage that we both felt about all the times that a rape victim is shunned, and we started talking about the why's behind it. She asked me, why I haven't told my story. (Cause I don't, I never have, which to her point, seems totally unfair when I say that out loud since she's in the process of calling me constantly so I can pull all of that right out of her.) She said that it's because of my experience that I've helped her, and maybe I could do that on a bigger scale. I thought about that all night last night, and I prayed about it from Charlotte to Greensboro and then back again today. I'm constantly praying to be used as a vessel, to motivate and inspire and speak truth and life and all those things that God does that makes me feel fuzzy inside... and yet here I am holding back. I always feel like I'm not doing enough. She's right. I hate it, but she's right. 

When I was younger, I went to the fair with one set of my parents. I was walking around aimlessly looking for any of my friends (that's a thing here when the fair is in town) and somehow, I caught the eye of a boy. 17, super cute, funny, and he just happened to be the son of the guy who owned the entire fair. We skipped all the lines. He kept telling me how pretty I was, all night. We played all the games. He held my hand and introduced me to all of the carnies that traveled with him. It was like my own personal tour guide, showing me all the tents and trailers and behind the scenes attractions... ever been to the fair or a festival and thought, no way can we get through everything before we leave!? Yeah, it was the complete opposite of that. In my mind I thought the whole night would casually end with him walking me to the front, maybe a hug, and that be the end of that forever. I was so stupid. We were having so much fun, and it didn't even occur to me that I was following this random guy I didn't know throughout the fairgrounds in dark places where I wasn't familiar. The last field ruined  my life as I knew it. I'll spare you the details, mostly because I honestly don't won't to relive it, but my virginity was stolen and no matter how much I fought or yelled or begged, he did what he wanted to without any care or sympathy and then vanished back in to that same darkness I had just followed him through. I laid there crying. I used to get so mad at myself when I would remember the crying part... why didn't I get the hell up? Why didn't I fight harder? Why didn't I run and find someone? Tell ANYBODY!? Oh, wait. I kept my mouth closed because I was ashamed. And humiliated. I shouldn't have been there. I knew better. My own actions lead to this moment and life would never, ever, be the same. 

I could hear my name being called over the loud speakers. My parents were looking for me. The fair had been closed for an hour, and it was time to go. I walked back, dirty from the ground I had just fought on. Everyone watching me, all those stupid carnies looking at me... like they knew... like they had possibly known ahead of time and this was just the newest one on his list. Humiliation. Shame. Disgust. I reached the top of the fairgrounds, and although anyone could tell I was roughed up and crying, my asshole alcoholic ex-stepdad didn't ask if I was ok. He didn't ask where I was. He didn't ask me anything. I didn't say a word, but ironically, he called me a whore the entire way back to the car. He just knew I must have been out doing something inappropriate. I cried all the way home in silence in the back of the truck. I showered as soon as we got home and because I took so long, I got yelled out about raising the water bill. I cried some more. And some more. Two weeks later, I was still crying. I wasn't eating. I wasn't sleeping. And that same asshole alcoholic ex-stepdad beat me up, said if something had happened to me I must have deserved it, I'm the one that put myself in that position. I hated him, and even though I knew logically that nothing that ever came out of his mouth held any truth or merit, these words resonated and served as a confirmation to my own insecurities and shame. That's the night I was kicked out of my house. I wish... my gosh, how I wish I could say it ends there and I found some sweet home to take me in and begin my recovery. 

Over the next two weeks, friends would sneak me in to their houses and let me crash in their closets. In KM, everyone pretty much knows EVERYONE else... I was friends with a lot of older kids, and like any small town news travels, so lots of my "friends" knew I had been kicked out again. It had been two weeks, and I hadn't breathed a word about what had happened. I did not have a real relationship with God, so I had zero peace and was basically just ending up from one night to the other in one sketchy place or another... I could have told parents of a lot of my friends I went to school with, and they'd have taken me in, but again... so much shame. Being without a home was MY FAULT, because I made poor life choices. This all happened because of me. One night, I was house sitting/crashing on a friend's couch while her and her friends went to the beach for the weekend. That night, a mutual "friend" of ours had gotten drunk at the club, knocked on her door to crash since it was closer, and instead found me. He came in. He looked around. I guess at some point he realized we were alone. He did that thing that some guys do when the vibe gets creepy. I went back to the couch to go to sleep, figuring he would get the hint and find a couch or a bed of his own. A few hours later, I woke up with him on top of me. He tied me up. There was a knife. A lot of blood. A lot of tears. A lot of pain. I think he thought he killed me. I passed out, I woke up, and he was gone. When my friend came back on Sunday, she found me... still tied up, bleeding all over... all cried out. I had laid there in my literal blood sweat and tears for so long that I went through the weepy phase, and hurtled right in to PISSED THE F OFF. The first time, I was weak. I was terrified. I didn't even know his last name. I had kept quiet. F that. I knew exactly who this was. I had no choice but to seek medical attention, and the police came. I told them everything I could remember. I told them his name. I laid there, again, humiliated as they performed their stupid rape kit and tested me for STDs. It was like being raped for a third time all over again, but this time I had open wounds in everywhere and by a bunch of people hurting me but swearing they were going to make it all better. I cant breathe again now, just like I couldn't breathe then. 

These "experiences", "moments", "situations".... whatever you call it... it changes who you are as a person. You either let no one touch you, because if they do, it might hurt... or you let everyone touch you, because it you say no it will definitely hurt. I used to get so uncomfortable when anyone would compliment me in any way. You never know if there is a sketchy motive behind it, WHY do you feel the need to tell me I'm pretty? What does that mean to you? I remained homeless for a long time. I turned really mean. I got in a lot of fights. I wouldn't let anyone "help" me, anymore. That didn't work out so well the last time. It took about a year after that before I finally started staying under a roof with other people again. When I did, I finally had a chance to go back to school. I wore sweatpants every day. My hair was almost always up in a tacky bun. I was the only one of the "cool kids" that didn't wear make-up. I avoided attention and pretended to like the one boy that called me his girlfriend so I wouldn't have to deal with other guys. The flirting. The interaction. He dating. The being alone. No. I wouldn't put myself in that position again. 

I'm 32 now, and all of that happened to me over half my lifetime ago, and some days are still really hard. I had to re-learn my own worth, my value, that not only am I more than just a pretty face, it's OK for me to HAVE a pretty face. My skin tone or hair color or body doesn't make me a victim, it makes me ME. I can look back at all the people who I've spoken to, who claim that I've helped them in some way to work through their own stories and helped them find closure... when someone introduces a friend to me and says "I think she could really get a lot out of hanging out with you for a while" or "you two should talk"... it makes the beauty and the value of my own story *so.much.clearer.* I do now have a relationship with God, and if the sum of my experiences were the puzzle pieces he put together for me to be used NOW (as prayed for and requested), well, then THAT is something worthy of accepting. 

So back to the beginning... why does rape happen? It happens because people don't come forward. Victims stay quiet because of the overwhelming shame. They're ashamed because when they see other victims come forward, they also see those victims being doubted and treated as suspects and having their entire lives and choices interrogated and ripped apart, as if the rape itself wasn't violation enough. It happens because we have built a society where once, a rapist was given a severe penalty and thrown into prison to become someone's BITCH, to catering to the entitlement era, "they can't help it." We make them feel like as long as they show a little remorse, it's acceptable. I advocate now for those that have come to me or been lead to me and dropped in my lap, and I will advocate and fight for you too if you  have ever been abused in any way. It is NOT your fault. You're allowed to go to a party. You're allowed to go out with our friends. You're allowed wear pretty dresses and make-up. You're allowed to have a boyfriend. You're allowed to want to be wanted, without fear of being taken by someone you don't want back. It should not always be on the girl to keep the boy in check. It happens because we remove responsibility from the rapist and place it unfairly on the victim. Let's grow them up to be better people. Teach your boys that hurting a woman in ANY way will never fly at home, and he'll carry that out in to the world. 

Rape Happens. But it shouldn't. The first step is to support the victim and not the rapist. My hope is that this helps in some way, because Lord knows I did NOT want to share it. My hope is that my story is enough. Enough to give the victims hope and courage to come forward. Enough to make society think, open their eyes, and do better. 

(I haven't spell checked or grammar checked. Screw that noise. I need a beer. I might make those changes later, but for now, you get the raw version.) 

When Knowing Your Worth Becomes Confidence and Not Conceit

Well, Hello there 32. I've been challenged a lot this past year to really think about my story, and the part that I play in this life. I've reached this place where I know exactly who I am. Sweetly Broken. Wholly Surrendered for God. Loved & loving. Happy. Appreciated & appreciative. Momma Bear to my Littles, & the Crazy Counterpart to my Big. I know my worth & my value. I Pray Intentionally, always starting off with "Dear Jesus..." I say awkward things. I play Hide and Seek with "TheLight" every day, but I always find it. I am the child of many, but my Dad is the King Of Kings, & I own my place as His Pretty Little Princess. I give meds each night & kiss booboos & do homework & read the same stories 146 times & tackle mountains of laundry & taxi us to all appts & birthday parties & adventures & do yoga on playgrounds & practice my handstand & monkey bars & play dress up & run 5k's with 40 lb toddlers on my back & find all things lost because boys (and the man) never "move" things when they're looking & I make the best spaghetti (per my boys) & cut the pb&j's the right way & fluff the pillows right & buy the good toilet paper & make sure we never run out of milk or hair gel & this goes on... So I own my place as the Matriarch of our family. I make people laugh & I give the best kind of hugs, people know they can come to me in all things, so I own my place as the Therapist and Best Friend. I love to read & blog but always forget to make time for either, so I own my place as a Slacker. I have an obsession with Coffee, Wine, Beer, & Bourbon... So I own my label as a drinker. I donate time and love & energy to this world because I love it. I hug trees and homeless people, so I own my title as Hippie... But then because I'm a Working Mom, I go to my day job & make sure people are paid to knock said trees down so we can build houses. I learned to paint, bake, and I kept a cichlid alive, so I'm now crafty. I still hate cardio. I still love gluten. I am perfect & flawed & wonderfully made... So excuse me while I embrace Who I Am, plop my exhausted self down in this throne and own it...


Do not shy away from the person that you are, someone could be waiting on the real you.

Childlike Faith in the Face of Uncertainty... What's the secret?

I should be sleeping, because 4am and a cranky, sleepy kid will come all too soon. Alas, here I lay, slightly freaked out, because in the morning, my Crazy One goes under for surgery, and I'm his mom. I have a right to be a wreck, right? And I am. As I prayed with the boys tonight, I remembered a few of those talks that Bruce used to have with us, about having the unwavering faith or a small child... And sure enough, there they lay... Perfectly content and just KNOWING undoubtedly that here we were praying and asking Jesus for this, so OF COURSE, Transformer is going to be just fine... Duh Mom. I wish so hard that I had that tonight, and normally, at the annoyance of others, I do. Tonight is not one of those because I'm human. I'm a Mommy, and because he's my child. Yes, he has an amazing medical team, but he's my baby. Yes, I know this is the right decision, but he's my baby. Yes, I know this is out of my control and solely in God's hands, but he's my baby. No amount of verbal consolation can remove this weight... And until he's back home with us, resting in my arms, I'll keep barely breathing. Prayers, would be so greatly appreciated. Prayer that snow will hold off so Munchkin can go to school in the morning,and I won't have to worry about his care for the day or having to tend to him in the office. Prayer that Transformer takes this experience and rocks it like a champ (like he does all things.) Prayer that Mommy can maintain my game face, without a day filled with Rumchata in my coffee. Prayer that Boyfriend breathes through this as well, because he is also human and when our children hurt,  he hurts. Prayer for a quick recovery. Prayer for rest, for our whole mini family, both physically and emotionally. Prayer that other people don't cry, cause that just stresses both of us out more. Prayer that Transformer doesn't wake up in the middle of surgery, because chances are high that that could happen. Prayer for us as a whole, but mostly that we too could wake up and go in to tomorrow with that same kind of unwavering love and faith and "duh" attitude that Jesus told me to have through them. Nervous does not do the amount of anxiety I feel tonight justice, but I know that this is the best thing. 

The Yelling Kind.

MommyHood: In the RAW.

Today a coworker said that she wondered if I ever actually yelled, fussed at, or argued with my children, and it made her feel good to know that I too, am one of those yelling kind (paraphrasing.) Let me be honest. Most days, I have really good children. Most days, I do try try to rationalize and be MommyHood: In the RAW.

Today a coworker said that she wondered if I ever actually yelled, fussed at, or argued with my children, and it made her feel good to know that I too, am one of those yelling kind (paraphrasing.) Let me be honest. Most days, I have really good children. Most days, I do try to be a little "extra" understanding. EVERY DAY THOUGH, I'm there MOM. Here's a BRIEF snapshot of what those "OTHER" days look like. 😂😳😫🍷

Our Day Today:

This morning: I get out of the shower. Gabriel screams, "NOOOOO, I want a shower RIGHT NOW." "We don't have time for you to take a shower right now, it's too late. You can take one tonight." (While screaming), he strips down and starts climbing in anyway. Yelling... 3... 2... Mommy Explosion.
Transformer fought clothes so hard, Daddy had to step in and take over to give me a minute to BREATHE.
After fighting about why he has to have shoes at all and forcing them on his flailing feet, we finally leave, 20 minutes late and all cranky.
On THE WAY to school while stuck in traffic, he decides to start screeching because he threw his glasses in the floor (on the far passenger side where I can't reach). I looked at Kyson in the mirror. He covered his ears, and we turned the radio up the classical station until Gabriel finally said "I'm done now." Just. Like. THAT. 😒
AT SCHOOL, he needed his eye drop. He knew it was coming. He LIKES his eye drop... Normally. Today, he squeezed his eye shut and started yelling because he wanted his drop in the OTHER EYE (that doesn't get or need medication), the drop ran down his face, and into his mouth. He then proceeds to start SPITTING ALL OVER OUR CAR. Laughing. Cause to him, this is all funny. No, no it's not. I talk. I soothe. I try to peer pressure and even bribe. No. Spanking #1.
No more eye drop fights after that.
INSIDE school, even though I had just spanked him 2 minutes prior, he screamed and clung on to me and ripped part of my hair out because he "wanted to hold me." This is an every... single... morning... thing... Until I'm out of sight 10 seconds later and then the boy is FINE.
Go to hug Kyson, who had taken my keys into his classroom while I was contending with Gabriel, and had "hidden them" with his friends so Mommy would stay longer. I wish, kid. Give me my keys, Little Dude. No, he thinks it's funny. It's been 10 minutes, and it is NOT funny anymore. Arguing commence. Yelling. Threatening NO ADVENTURE DAY IF YOU DON'T GOVE ME BACK MY KEYS RIGHT NOW.
I work. I leave work. I come home from work. I walk in the front door and 3 seconds later...
Kyson hugs me. Gabriel hugs me, climbs up me like a TREE, and tries to swing out of said tree like Tarzan, using my hair as the vine. I was less than pleased for him being so rough, intentionally. Fussing commence.
Eat your dinner or no surprise. Eat your dinner or straight to bed. Arguing commence.
After dinner, I set up a movie on the bed. It's 7:30, and we're preparing for down time and cuddles before bed. Gabriel has to pee. I turn the light on for him, close the door to give him privacy, (hey, the privacy thing COULD catch on!?) I walk outside to move my car. I look up, and see Transformer STREAKING, half naked, out the door, into the road, right in front of my car and into the road (with cars in motion.) Never, NEVER... Have a threw a car in park and jerked up my child so fast. Maybe 5 seconds past? I held on till we crossed through our threshold and closed the front door, and yes... Spanked my child. Put him in clothes and time out. Yelled at him, A LOT. Explained in my really not happy voice that although Heaven is awesome, I'd like for him to not go there yet, and getting run over could do that. I. Was. FURIOUS. Because he knows better. Spankings, fussing, yelling, arguing... I had the angry parent jackpot and the words just kept coming. All Rated G, mind you. I do NOT feel bad for spanking my child. I actually feel proud for holding it together in front of the neighbors. High five Mommy Self. High. Freakin. Five. ✋🏻✋🏻
I let him out of solitary confinement. He joins us on the bed. He climbs on Kyson's head. He knees me in the stomach. Sit down G. He puts his feet on our faces. Stop jumping boys. Get off of his HEAD, G. I'M NOT TELLING YOU AGAIN, stay off of his head. K, STOP THAT. It is NOT PLAY TIME. Sooooo much fussing.
Time for bed. Go give hugs. For some reason, hugging translated to, "K, practice your hip toss and throw your brother on the ground." No. Just... NO. Spanked Kyson. Picked up an already whiney G. Bedtime. We fight over who's sleeping on which side. We fight over one pillow or two pillows. Sharing blankets or no? No, you may NOT have your flashlight for bedtime. No, you are NOT sleeping in front of the door. Get OFF OF YOUR BROTHER'S HEAD. No, no you can not "MAKE" Puppy sleep with you. I give hugs. I get trapped, and repeat hair rip situation all over again, this time with no backup to help rescue me. I hug and kiss Kyson. He's still giving me the silent treatment, because "why is throwing my brother unacceptable?" I kiss them both again. I tell them I love them. G yells, "NO, leave the light on." No. Go. To. Bed. I close the door. G opens up 45 seconds later. We argue, again. He hits me. I spank him. He wants to hold me. I say no, it's time for bed. He goes to bed to hold his brother and they talk about how mean I am. Repeat door opening, spanking, and closing 2 more times.

FINALLY, peace. So, yes. I yell. I fuss. I scream. I argue. I spank. Some days, I just have to walk it out.

2014 in review. Well, a week of it. ;)

Can you be productive AND lazy, at the same time? I'm pretty sure that's been the best way to describe my family this "New" year so far! It's only the 5th, but I swear, together, me and my clan of guys have done more cleaning and watched more football and cartoons in the past week than we have in quite a while! Finally had a little time at home and decided to make THE MOST of it I guess?! I explained to Munchkin that there are kids out there that don't have any clothes or food or toys of their own, so my 3 yr old opened his big ol heart, sat down with me, and we now have an overflowing basket of goodies to donate to the Crisis Ministry. He actually gave away more than he's keeping, and that's ok. Boyfriend tackled our laundry, so to him, I owe thanks for the jeans I'll actually be able to wear tomorrow in 20 degree weather, saving me from the maxi dresses that would have been my last resort clothing option in this time of frostbite. I, who is in love with naps, even skipped mine yesterday and only took a 10 minute power surge today to accomplish a whopping to do list. Dishes, kitchen, our bedroom, kids room, all done. I even vacuumed the whole house with a baby on my hip while standing on one foot most of the time. (The other foot was being used to move things around or pick stuff up out of te way, I have talented toes.) in the mix of all this heart happy decluttering, it was a great weekend for my sanity in FOOTBALL. Can we say WHO DAT and #PantherNation!? My Monster even learned to yell "TOUCHDOWN" clearly. Because my kids are MY kids, they paused during all this donating and football to of course, snap a selfie of themselves. Clever tots, I have. So far, this year had been filled with love. Big hugs, sweet kisses, open hearts and generosity, plans for our future, and some serious quality conversation between my whole family and God. I feel, no, I know, he had big mind blowing plans for us this year, and I can't wait to follow his lead if the happiness we've had so far is any indication of the happiness to come!

Ladies... Allow me...

Not to bust out an ego that I don't have, but I'm complimented time and time again, and have been asked to "teach classes" on certain things. I don't have time for that, so just read this for a few (what SHOULD ALREADY BE COMMON SENSE) pointers.

#1: Kill that Bitch. You know, the inner one that drives you to say something hateful just because you think you can. Oh, that's just your personality? People just can't handle you? You pick all the wrong men? Just can't seem to get along with females? Let me let you in on a secret... NOBODY LIKES A BITCH. Kill it. Let it go. No decent human being wants to be criticized, analyzed, insulted, physically-mentally-and emotionally beat on, your friends are not punching bags. The girl making your caramel frappe has feelings, and she'll spit in your junk if your snap your fingers one more time. Nobody thinks attitude is funny, so go ahead and ditch that excuse too. Can't find a good man? That's because they want chicks with SOULS AND CLASS... not a demon woman with a big mouth and bigger attitude they're ashamed to show mom or their friends. Do YOU like to be corrected? Neither do other people. If you look around you, and notice your friends bail on you every time you wanna hang out or only include you so you won't FLIP THE HECK OUT when you find out they have plans, if guys you're interested in just don't feel a connection with you, if coworkers don't want to hang out anywhere else, if your family only talks to you when they have to... guess what? It's not them. It's you. Take a look in the mirror. Figure out your issues, and let it go. In the meantime, until you decide to quit being a victim or thinking your cool or get therapy, stop taking out your frustration on society before the people you piss off start leaving cats at your door to help start your lonely old bitty collection. Seriously.

#2: Show class, not ass. Ladies, is it REALLY necessary to wear the TIGHTEST TINIEST LOWEST CLEAVAGE POPPING BOOTY FLOPPING outfit you own to Walmart or Harris Teeter? (Or anywhere, for that matter?) Here's a tip, dude's gonna see you, he'll buy you one drink, take you home for the night, and pretend you never met the next day. Dressing like a skank on Halloween everyday of your life doesn't scream sexy, it screams insecure with bad taste in wardrobe, bad financial management, (yeah, we know you bought that sleazy stripper ensemble, don't pretend your "friend" gave it to you, liar liar pants on fire!) and usually shows off your desparate need for a gym membership. You ain't meeting Momma. His friends at the club WILL giggle at you and post your drunk ass on youtube, ("drunk girl at Ultra 2012" anyone?), they'll also make sure they send that instagram pic of your cellulite trying to drop it low on some bar to almost everyone in their contacts list, (and its DEFINITELY gonna hit facebook before your nasty tail can get back down.) That dress will look SOOOOOOO much better in YOUR RIGHT SIZE. Your big ass ain't gonna try to squeeze your size 8 feet into a size 5 shoe, why would you think jeans work any different? STUPID. Muffin top is NOT attractive. If you can afford to buy clothes, you can afford to buy the right size. I managed retail establishments for a LONG TIME... unless you're in the big and tall section, you're not gonna spend a fortune so stop trying to save money by shopping in the little kids area, because a small and medium cost the SAME PRICE. Sharing clothes with your 8 year old daughter is not appropriate... EVER. Clean it up girls... your nasty's falling out... literally. UGH.

#3: TAKE CARE OF YOUR BABIES!!! This one's big for me. I struggled hard with conception, so seeing slack parenting is one of my biggest pet peeves. How can you sit back and talk about your kid's dead beat dad when every chance you get you're finding a sitter to go "out." Doesn't matter where. Occasionally, I get. Parents need a break. If you can't remember the last time you spent a weekend at home doing stuff that makes your babies happy, but are steady posting pics of you and your girls double fisting booze every weekend... your one lame broad. Get it together. Babies are BLESSINGS, figure it out and do better or drop your kids off at a DSS office near you. GIVING BIRTH or DONATING DNA DOES NOT MAKE YOU A PARENT. RAISING THE CHILD DOES. And PS: real parents have pictures of their kids... not just on FB, but in real life, especially in their homes and on their phones. Taking pics of these fly-by moments with your little ones is a lot more important then all those lame head tilt duck face photos you think make you look hot.

#4: I say it all the time. I am NOT a feminist. Relationships are give and take, 50/50, but sometimes ladies, you have to make them feel like it's a little off balance... If you want your man to step up and be a man, then LET HIM. Independence is awesome, but guys want an equal, he wants to KNOW she can handle herself, but still feel needed and important. Show him that you can be a strong woman, but that you still appreciate him as, yes, the even stronger man by your side. Let him open a door or a jar for you. Be a GIRL occasionally, lol. Nobody likes dead weight, but every man NEEDS to feel needed, supportive, strong, ... you know, LIKE A MAN. Just because you CAN do some of the same things he can, doesn't mean you always have to. Let him have time with the guys without complaining. Going out and doing man things is NORMAL and healthy, for both of you. Coddle and caress that ego of his every once in a while. They like it. Give him a chance, and let him prove to you he can be your backbone. One day, you may actually NEED him and not just want him, just look at this as practice. I am in no way saying play helpless, that's just ignorant and so are the women that do that crap. What I'm saying is men are geared and hard-wired to protect, bread-win, and show off a little testosterone... women are geared and hard-wired to nurture, to love, and to seek comfort... there's nothing wrong with letting your genetic intellect secretly guide your relationship in the right direction. Oh, and if you care about him, do NOT belittle him, privately or publicly... it'll get you nowhere but dumped, (see rule #1.) *Listen to Jamie Foxx's "She Got Her Own" and take notes.*

#5: Unless you have a medical condition, there is NO reason why you shouldn't have real eyebrows. Surely to goodness, plucking or waxing has to be easier brow maintenance than painting them on everyday.

#6: No heterosexual woman should ever have side-burns. They are dually as bad as the infamous mullet and bowl cut. Seriously. I don't care what your heritage is, which side of the family it runs on, blah blah blah. It is NOT baby hair, and yes, you can see it regardless of the length of your hair. Find your significant other's clippers (unless you fall into rule #1's category and are single and miserable, rendering you deserving of wacky weeds growing down your face), and shave them OFF. Don't trim and walk away. Trim, then shave. Or wax. It lasts longer. REMOVE THEM ENTIRELY.

#7: God already made your face a masterpiece. Quit trying to play Picasso with your Dollar Tree make-up. Same goes for your nails. Pick a color and roll with it... not one per finger (or 8 per finger... ugh.) Your face looks like Rainbow Bright had to much to drink and puked all over you. If you're gonna wear make-up, follow these guidelines: less is more. Make-up is meant to enhance your naturals beauty, not cover it up. Buy a set of brushes. Even a cheap set is worth it, and it'll give you practice. BLEND. Youtube it, I'm sure there's a how-to video somewhere. And remember, two things, just because you bought a new pallet does not mean you need to try out every single color at the same time, and if you're wearing neon, your make-up does not have to match.

#8: For pete's sake, stop using the word "Bestie." You're a GROWN WOMAN for crying out loud. Our generation had pig-latin. It's time you let go of the playground days, and you and your estbay iendfray leave the new recess slang to the tint tots of today.

#9: Pick your battles wisely. I'm not saying don't stand up for yourself, but try to look at every situation logically and from a third party view. I always pretend one of my friends is telling ME about something that happened, if it was someone else's issue, would I still be so riled up? Probably not. More importantly, will I care tomorrow? Probably not. Is sparking an argument with someone I care about or with a dimwitted cashier gonna make me feel better? Probably not. Is it worth it? No. It hardly ever is. LET THINGS GO unless it's truly grinding your gears. Calm down, lay it out rationally in your head, and then COMMUNICATE with the other person about the problem so that you can find a compromise and/or resolution. People are dumb sometimes... always fighting over petty things will surely cause you to miss out on the best moments life has to offer.

#10: DO NOT BE AFRAID TO LET YOUR GUY GO OUT FOR GUY TIME WITHOUT COMPLAINING. (Or inviting yourself along.) Guy time DOES NOT CONSIST OF VAGINAE. They say and do things when they're with their own kind that they will NOT say or do in front of a woman, ever. Regardless of how much you think you're one of the guys, you're not. There's a club, and to be a certified member, you gotta dangle, and sister, you don't make the cut. If you're worried about his fidelity, then pack your bags and roll out cause that relationship's already over. Watching the game or going to a movie without you will not kill you or the relationship. If it does, you were already doomed because real love is stronger than any other type of persuasion. Boyfriend is the envy of all his friends, cause when him and the boys make plans, I don't show up like a psycho off my meds or blow up his phone like the house is on fire. I let him have fun. It's a gesture of love that says "I trust you. I love you and I know that you love me. Go, have fun, and come home to me." If you stop trying to leash your boyfriend/husband, he'll stop trying to break free and appreciate you. More importantly, he'll WANT to come back home to you. That's the best part. 

Word. There it is. Some of y'all wont like this, but if you don't... pull that mirror back out, because more than likely you need one of my rules to live by.

Bunnies, Eggs, Babies, and JESUS

I had one phenomenal Easter weekend! It was the first one with both my babies and that incredible Boyfriend of mine, not to mention all of our wonderful family and friends... I don't think I had one meal since Thursday that wasn't prepared on a grill, Munchkin had his first real Easter egg hunt (and won a prize!), both boys were freaking ADORABLE in their outfits, spent some quality time with a few of my favorite people, I got to cook for everybody (which I LOVE), and Transformer and Munchkin both ate up all the attention EVERYBODY kept lavishing them with. At one point, I seriously thought I busted a stitch from laughing so hard, and yet again from playing with Munchkin. The highlight of my weekend, hands down, was our after church dubstep rock-out session (just me, Boyfriend, and Munchkin) in the car. :) I hadn't been able to go back to church up to this point, so today we took the parents to Warehouse with us... let me tell you... walking in that building... it's an unexplainable "coming home" feeling. It felt so awesome to be there, with a church community I've come to know and love. Hearing Bruce speak always does something for my soul, and after being down with the blues physically and emotionally lately, my spirit needed todays overdose of holy. Over-all, this turned out to be a pretty amazing 1st Easter for our brand new mini family. Family functions, hockey games, cookouts, babies, family, slumber parties, friends... the only thing missing was a few special people.... (Fairy God-Mother, Best Friend, Little Brother, Aunt Sherry and Uncle George, and OF COURSE, LEONARDO THE GODFATHER.) Life is grand when you let God run it how he wants.

Happy Easter y'all, I hope yours was as good as ours, and that each of you remembered to thank Jesus this morning. <3

I've been a bad, bad, blogger...

I know. I started a requested blog, and then I was neglectful and left you hanging... my bad yo. If it helps, it's only because I have definitely had my hands full with both babies that I've failed to update you daily on all of the awesome happenings in my life. Anyway, you're in for a treat. I realize I have some catching up to do so for the next few days, I'm gonna rant and rave and update away. :) In fact, I may need to google the blogging etiquette, or, rules... can you blog too much? Probably. I'm gonna do it anyway. 

So go ahead. Run out and buy yourself a pair of ugly drugstore reading glasses and a Java Monster, because we've got a lot of catching up to do. <3

Preggo-Free Fantasies

This morning, at the crack of dawn, one of Boyfriend's best friends asked me "What are you looking forward to being able to do again, the most (when I'm no longer pregnant)?"

I'm so close to delivery at this point, I guess it got me thinking because I've been fantasizing constantly about the endless adventures of a preggo free life all day. Here's my list:

1. Sleep. I'm talking sprawled out like Patrick the Starfish all over the entire bed, on my belly, knocked out, with yes, maybe even a little drool. I want to wake up with bed-head, hair all a mess, with those weird lines etched into my body where I've gotten tangled up in the sheets and junk... oh yeah. It may only last a couple hours at a time, but by golly, I'm ready for it.
2. Soda. Specifically Mountain Dew and Sundrop. More specifically, Cherry Lemon Sundrop. Here in North Carolina, this is Sundrop Country, where it was brewed, born, and bred. Boyfriend has restricted my diet throughout this entire pregnancy (out of love of course). I've had NOTHING red and only 2 Mountain Dews and 1 Sundrop for the past 9 1/2 months. All that talk about after a while, you're body stops craving it anyway... yeah... not so much. I've got walks and marathons coming up so I can only indulge in soda a little... but as soon as Transformer pops out, I'm popping the top of my yummy, caffeinated, bottled Heaven.
3. Shaving my legs. I already do this daily anyway, but trust me... it takes A LOT longer now than it ever did before. You never realize how much you appreciate those little comforts until they're gone... :/
4. Junk food. Like I said, I know I can't go sugar binging but dang it, for a small period of time, I will. And it's going to be wonderful. Brownies, chocolate covered anything I want, those sodas I mentioned earlier... I'm gonna deliver right around Valentine's, so potentially, if I play my cards right, I could catch those ENORMOUS bags of Reese cups on sale. ChaCHING!!
5. The gym. I know, right? I do NOT want to work my butt off, it looks AWESOME as is. In fact, I hope my butt stays pregnant forever. The rest of me... eh. I was never one of those girls that worried about my weight or what my body looked like before I ever got pregnant. Then I got pregnant with Munchkin and realized that was because I never needed to. Turns out, I was modest and vain at the same time, subconsciously. This time, I'm well aware and when I'm looking at my back fat or my second chin in the mirror, my eyes are WIDE OPEN. It's time for my thighs to lose some of that thunder they've been collecting. Plus, again, I've got charity walks and marathons and the dreaded Warrior Dash (yikes!) coming up, and as of right now, I'm gonna have a better chance of dying in a mud puddle somewhere before I have a chance at crawling across the finish line. I have visions of the wind blowing through my pony tailed hair, sun kissed skin dripping only that attractive sweat, and my body looking freakin AWESOME as I cross the finish line. Let's aim for that one instead of someone dragging me like a wounded animal... 
6. Mommy-Munchkin time. Until you've experienced it, you can never understand how much cuddling up on the couch with your kid curling his tiny little body as far into yours as he can to snuggle, while you both sing stupid songs (that he LOVES), along with Yo Gabba Gabba, truly makes you smile. I love lots of people, but none of them come close to Munchkin on the love scale. Bring on the vanilla wafers, juice, and Nick Jr.
7. Cocktails. Maybe it's a professional thing, like when people that roof ride around town checking out the shingles on buildings and houses without realizing it; but I can't wait to get fancy, go to the bar, and down a line of shots. I may only be half white but that half WILL be wasted. Not all the time, not often, and only on a night when we have a sitter for both kids, I'm just not the parent that drinks with my kid around. Maybe not soon enough, but definitely soon. Inebriation WILL occur.
8. Cooking. I LOVE being in the kitchen. It's my favorite room in a home, followed closely by my closet. I have this insane habit of cooking for the masses... even if there's only 3 people eating. I love food. I love variety and color at every meal. I have this absurd phobia that people will leave my dinner table still hungry... so... I over-compensate. Some people do it with body parts or personality... I do it with food. Eh, it is what it is. I'm damaged, but if the worst thing about me is that I'll feed you to make myself feel good, well then I'm the bomb.com.
9. Road trips. I have friends and family that I miss SO FREAKIN much. I can't work for a while anyway, and they want to meet my babies. They're all willing to feed us and house us, all I gotta supply are the kids and gas money! How can I say no to that?
10. Last but definitely not least, I can not wait to go back to work. I've been exploring new career options. Realistically, I'm pretty good at well, everything cause if you remember from #8, I have that over-compensating complex and HAVE to be the best at whatever I do or life will end. It just will. If nothing else I have the option of going back to my old job, but I hate it and don't want to work with that bunch of douche-bags any longer if I don't have to, so I'm keeping my options open. I miss working for lots of reasons that are too in depth for this particular post, but it's on my high priority list.

Are there other things on my list? Of course. These are just my top ten. Can you relate? What are some of the things that you missed most or most looked forward to during your pregnancy? I wanna know.

<3

WTH Did Preggo's Do Before the Internet?

So, I'm 38 weeks and 4 days into this pregnancy and counting down, but I've been on full blown bed rest since Dec 28th. For those of you that don't know, bed rest is hard work. I look around and see laundry, make mental to do lists, I wanna take Puppy out back and waddle around the back yard with him, I want to go scoop up Munchkin and take him to feed ducks and swing at the park, I want to go out with Boyfriend for pizza or to watch the game, I want to take this time while I'm not working and visit friends and family I never get to see, I want to get OFF the couch or OUT of the bed and GO... but alas... I keep my big ole barefooted planet belly plopped and propped like a good girl.

For a brief period of time, I attempted all of those things; but then I realized I was gonna give Boyfriend a heart-attack from worrying about mine and Transformer's well-being, after-all, I'm on bed rest for a reason. I was on bed rest from the day I found out I was pregnant with Munchkin, but THAT pregnancy was so miserable and I stayed so medicated that I slept through most of it, so I never needed extra mental stimulation. I recently found myself watching the 5th re-run of SportsCenter or some extremely old re-rerun of Law and Order, who can remember... and I had an epiphany: I have the Internet! Ah yes! The good old interweb... a vast oasis of life to explore. Sure, I already knew about YouTube and facebook, and various news websites (entertainment and world importance alike)... but I asked for recommendations and BOY of BOY, did I receive! I have now found myself addicted to reading blogs and "pinning" a million things a day on Pinterest. I terrified myself reading pregnancy/baby related stories and info. I have discovered new shopping sites that I have emailed myself so that I can set goals for when I finally get to go back to work. I have looked into new career options. I can house hunt or apartment shop without the clock ticking away my lunch break. I have learned new games to play with Munchkin and new ideas for stimulating Transformer once he makes his debut... it's an endless plethora of ideas, games, info, and stuff I never knew I cared about until now.

So now my question is, WHAT THE HECK DID BED RIDDEN DO BEFORE THE INTERNET?
There are days where I truly feel like without Netflix, The Dirty, or Kindle, I would go absolutely stir crazy.

Were any of you put on bed rest? What did you do on your maternity leave? Any of you have more AMAZING websites you'd like to share? After all, I've got nothing but time...

Let's Be Vain ;) (But only temporarily)

After a ton of requests, I finally gave in. I can't write a book right now, so, I created a blog. What now? Your first post is one of the most important. It's what draws people in and keeps them coming back. I have oh-so-many things to talk about, but I thought,... hmmm... to start off, why not talk about ME!? Might as well give off an overview and lay down my basics, so... here ya go! ;)


I am no ordinary little woman. I have lead an absurdly adventurous life and have gained more life experience than several members of the geriatric community combined in my whopping 27 1/2 years of life. I am passionate about many things (what's a life worth living without passion?), and I'm pretty verbal about it. I rant, I rave, I brag, I complain, I compliment, sometimes I just feel like letting it all out... and I have that right. People may not like what I have to say about EVERYTHING, people may not always agree with me, people may think I'm out of line or spot on... but it's MY opinion. It's how I feel. It's MY life. I do lack tact... in fact, I'm down right brutally honest, so don't ask if you don't want the truth, which I speak a lot of. I can't wait to get feedback from all walks of life and to hear how YOU feel about the truths that I speak. I look forward to sharing all of my life's ups and downs with you... my world, friends old and new, family... I'm a proud Mommy, I'm in the last stage of pregnancy, I'm a Tashia of many trades, I love and I dislike, I want to share the pictures that make my smile, the stories and thoughts that make me angry or giggle, the everyday experiences that happen that people consider too taboo to post on Facebook or say out loud... I want to go through this incredible life I've been given and share it with anyone who wants to read about it. I'm sure I'll ruffle a few feathers along the way, but when it's all said and done, I hope that I brighten up lives and make a few days. Happy reading to all of you and I hope you subscribe to this blog and keep on coming back!

<3  Tashia