Nice To Meet You. I Don’t Always Look This Brutalized.

An introduction to chaotic mind and life that inspires the crazy but TRUE stories I share.
Let’s talk about me. That is a terrifying concept for me. I would much rather talk about my crazy offspring. However, I thought I should give you a little background on myself before I start spilling the beans of my everyday life and struggles as a mom, a working mom, a wife and an individual that has thoughts and feelings outside of my family.

I have been riding the struggle bus for an introduction for a week now. Day after day the words escape me. It’s hard to think about yourself when it seems like the world is falling around you. Most days I go to bed frazzled, and in a daze feeling like I could have done a much better job as a mom, and promising myself, “I will do better tomorrow”.

Remember when we were all worried about the Y2K apocalypse? Those were the good ole days. Now we are moms, teachers, employees, wives and counselors to our own personal tribes. Let me describe myself as a mother in a pandemic, with national unrest and murder hornets. Kathy Bates in “Misery” maybe? Add a side of Diane Keaton in “Something’s Gotta Give”, where she cries for a week straight, Adam Sandler in “Big Daddy”(sure kid, name yourself Frankenstein I don’t care), and a very tiny, and I mean tiny pinch of Mary Poppins. Or, maybe Nannie McPhee? Scaring children into submission is always an option. Am I right, or am I right?  Okay, let me take a deep breath and a small, and by small I mean large, sip of wine and I will think of all the things that make me, me, and how I got to be here.

I grew up a tomboy in a small town in Tennessee, a middle child, loving parents and grandparents (mammaw and pappaw) that always lived within a mile from my house. I am a college drop out for a few reasons that we may revisit later. But, one issue with college was that I couldn’t pay attention. I didn’t know why I was there. I had no clue what I wanted to be, “when I grew up”. I felt like the pressure was on and I was crumbling.

Growing up I had dreams of being a large animal veterinarian. After I passed out during my first college biology class, I knew the blood and guts route wasn’t going to be my strength. The only other thing I knew I enjoyed was doing people’s hair, so I enrolled in cosmetology school. You know they say, the higher the hair, the closer to God. Working on my spirituality and my beauty. How southern is that? Anywho, while I was in cosmetology school I bartended and I continued slinging drinks after school while I built my hair clientele.  Let me tell you something, those two jobs go hand in hand. You might as well just tell people you’re a therapist because you will be treated as one. I fancy myself a good listener, so I have never minded that part of the job. As a girl who has “bad choiced” her way through life, I try not to judge anyone. We all have a story. Our stories are filled with good, sad, tragic, hilarious, romantic, thrilling, bad and sometimes REALLY bad chapters that eventually get us to an ending. Hopefully we learn enough to have a happy one. Sometimes people just need to tell their story, and I’ve always been happy to hear them. Hopefully you’re still awake right now at this part of my story.

Anyway, after dating a toad or two, I finally met my prince.  I’ll skip the boring details of our relationship FOR NOW.

We have two wild little boys. A day in the life of my boymom kingdom consists of a lot of snacks, the sound of crashing bodies after they have found a new piece of furniture to jump off of over and over. I hear the words, “fart”, “poop” and 87 variations of the word “butt” on repeat. In fact my 5 year old wrote a song yesterday called, “my butthole is my butthole”. It’s time for my proud mom honor student bumper sticker y’all! I hope the first word they teach my children to spell at school is, “butt”. Straight A’s here we come! Most days I have a nervous tick from hearing, “hey mom, watch this” over and over…and over.   I also get slapped, punched, shot with nerf guns and ran absolutely ragged just trying to keep them alive, and in one piece.

At the end of the day I get plenty of hugs, kisses, an “I love you” and sometimes a, “you’re pretty” if I’m really lucky. I would not change a single thing. They gave my crazy story meaning and purpose. Life would cease to exist without these crazy nuts sucking every ounce of sanity from me. They never stop giving me experiences to share and stories to tell.

I invite you to follow along with me as I share stories about my life, my marriage, my journey to and through motherhood. I promise you, there’s never a dull moment, or a second I can’t make you feel better about your life. We all have our moments, and I have a lot. Keep your heads up and hang in there with me!

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