Hey people!

I’m feeling the writing bug. As in, I feel as if I’m on the verge of actively writing again (as in, starting a new book), but for now I’m just going to write random stuff on my blog. Stretch my fingers and all that. Today the post might be a bit of a wanderer, but I’ll try to focus and narrow it down for you.

Last weekend we had Luke’s third birthday party. As is customary once you have children, we invited our family in shifts. Because even though our house has four bedrooms and I’ve managed to shove beds into all of them, as well as sprinkle the house with daybeds so as to accommodate as many people as possible, we STILL cannot fit all of our family members in here at once. As such, we take turns. Or try to. But of course, I always seem to be on the losing side of my never-ending battle with fairness and so I’m aware that some people were disappointed that they could not stay overnight this go round. To address those concerns, I would like everyone to know that as of a month ago, I made an Excel spreadsheet of our five year financial plan, otherwise known as, “How We Pay Off All Our Debt So That We Can Buy A 10 Bedroom Beach House (Read: Hotel) One Day.” It’s going well. We are on target, people. I didn’t win the battle this time, but I will win the war. Eventually.

So this go round was my family’s turn. They descended on a lovely Saturday afternoon (Except for Dude, who joined us Friday. We loved having you Dude. Visit any time.). Saturday was about gardening for most of the day. My mom and dad, the green thumbs, were there and we hauled them all over Wilmington to look at flowers and trees. They dutifully picked out stuff for our yard and then we came home and put our should-be-retired-but-still-working parents to hard labor. The result was quite lovely. Thank you, parents. In the midst of that, my sister and her clan arrived and her kids and my kid swung on the swingset and ran around the yard for just about the rest of the day. It was, in many ways, how I always saw us ending up: drinking coffee on my patio with all my people, watching all of our little people play. The only thing missing was the faint sound of the ocean in the background (again, working on it people).

toddler, swing set, birthday

Skywalker in his PJs. Out and about as soon as the sun came up.

Kids, playground, playset

Miss Grace, giggly as ever.

Play set, swings, kids

Grif and Addison testing out the durability of said play set.


It was a lovely day with family. Oh and the dogs were there. They were nice too. Although between the four people actively picking up dog shit, I think we collected a trashbag that weighed around 20 pounds. Why do they not seem thinner? And where did all that shit come from?

Dalmation, dogs

Phoenix the dawg. Stoic as ever. I will tell you she’s ten, but she will not approve. A lady never reveals her years.

Golden Retriever, kids

Bailey the big golden seal and her wrangler.

Chocolate Lab

Frisco George. Poor Frisco George. Luke just sat around all weekend telling him he was a bad dog because he kept eating the grass. Sigh. Puppies.

Then, once everyone was in bed, Laura and I commenced to decorating all night. It was quite fulfilling. This is what we do people: we read, we drink, we ingest various forms of nicotine (cigarettes, e-cigs, nicorette, the patch, we’ll take it anyway we can get it) and we plan and execute parties.

Train Banner

Train banner.

Balloon Banner

Balloon Banner and Railroad Signs

More banners

More banners

Train Station

Construction paper train station by Becky and Addison.


We also made a barrage of Pinterest recipes. Coal Crispies and what not. It’s a train theme, people. Get with it. Dude sampled them for us. And that’s how we knew that the next day at the party, everyone would have black lips. Oops.

Ezra and Addison

Ezra and Addison

I have black lips? WHAT?!

I have black lips? WHAT?!

And with that, let the wild rumpus start!


Train Birthday Party

What’s this? A fully executed train themed birthday party? Why yes it is. Jen is right. We need to go into business.

Train Buffet

The Train Buffet.

Train Crayons, lollipops

The “Punch Platform” right before Mary broke the punch spigot. THANKS MARY. Just kidding. Oh and why yes, those are train shaped crayon party favors and train shaped lollipops.


Of course, I have to thank all the women in my life for making this happen, so a big shout out goes to Mom, Laura, Jen, Alexa, and Mary. You helped me put it all together. And watch the kids…









While the men do what men do…hide in the garage drinking green beer because it’s Luke’s birthday party, but it’s also St. Patrick’s Day.

The guilty.

The guilty.


Once they played for a while, we got them all hopped up on sugar…

The glorious cookie cake and the reason I gained five pounds last weekend.

The glorious cookie cake and the reason I gained five pounds last weekend.

I've never seen a kid enjoy being the center of attention quite like this one.

I’ve never seen a kid enjoy being the center of attention quite like this one.

They don't look high yet, but I swear sugar is like meth for kids...watch this...

They don’t look high yet, but I swear sugar is like meth for kids…watch this…


Sugar+People+Presents+Pinata = Anarchy

Little man's not holding anything back.

Little man’s not holding anything back.

It's like we don't feed them...

It’s like we don’t feed them…

I swear to you it's not what it looks like. He's not choking out baby Noah for candy. Love hurts with this one.

I swear to you it’s not what it looks like. He’s not choking out baby Noah for candy. Love hurts with this one.

All said they had a grand time. I lived my Pinterest dream. But let’s be honest ladies. It’s a clean house, clean clothes, food on the table, a happy wife, a showered-made-up wife, a happy mom, a perfect party planner or a good sex life: PICK TWO.

What a Mom really looks like after doing something like this for their kid. Note the curious lack of make-up and the 12 year old, stained UNCW sweat shirt.

What a Mom really looks like after doing something like this for their kid. Note the curious lack of make-up and the 12 year old, stained UNCW sweat shirt.













It’s been a while since I’ve written. Maybe it’s because I’ve been really happy? I tend to only write in my diary/blog when I’m angry. Poor Talin. I have two short novels from the ten years we’ve been together filled with all the things he’s done to piss me off over the years. It’s gotten to the point where when he sees me writing in it, he just rolls his eyes and stomps off. But I feel like it’s better that, than the alternative…(What could she mean? Yelling? Fighting? Divorce? Strangling him in his sleep? I’ll let you decide how dark and deep the rabbit hole is.).

But yeah, it’s an unusual time in my life. I am very, very happy. I’m off my antidepressants for almost a year now. I’m back to work at a job I’ve grown to truly love (first one of those ever). I’m working up some new hobbies since I still can’t afford to ride horses — I’m doing projects for the house, working out in the yard, and party planning (Oh, how I love to plan a party. Luke’s birthday is coming up so that’s kept me pretty busy.).

Soggy yard, yard work

What our yard looked like BEFORE.

Yard work, home improvement, projects

What our yard looks like after installing french drains, laying sod, making a bed for Luke’s new play set, and building a shed. We’ve been busy…

And for the first time in a year, I don’t want to throttle my own child. That’s right, it appears as if Luke has emerged out of the terrible twos just in time for his third birthday. Praise Jesus.

shed, yard work

Luke and Talin triumphant in front of their creation. Luke “helped” by throwing Talin’s tools across the yard so he couldn’t find them and running in and out of it during its construction.

Play set, yard work

A dark picture, but this is what it looks like at night with Luke’s play set all up.

Pinterest, gutter bookshelves.

I give you bookshelves made out of gutters. I say I do these projects, but really I just pin them on Pinterest and print them out and make Talin do my projects for me. I’m more of a project manager. I manage Talin.

train buffet, birthday parties

I had a bad dream that I beat the crap out of someone one night and I woke up at like 1 a.m. and came downstairs and made this train buffet for the Luke’s birthday party. The food will go in the little cars. Wut wut.

Now I finally know what people meant when they said, “Kids drive you crazy, but then they say/do the cutest things and it makes it all worth it!” I used to think that was a crock of shit. Because for the past year, he was such a little asshole (Sorry, Luke, but it’s the truth. Just own it, man.), that even when he did do cute things, I was completely unimpressed. Saying/doing one funny thing after you’ve just tortured me for ten hours on a Saturday does not equal “all worth it.” It equals “I don’t hate you for one second in this moment, but as soon as you start screaming about cookies at 8:00 at night after you didn’t eat ANY OF YOUR DINNER I PREPARED FOR THE SOLE FACT THAT I FEEL RESPONSIBLE TO FEED YOU A NUTRITIONAL MEAL AND IF YOU WEREN’T HERE I WOULD HAVE HAD NUTTER-BUTTERS FOR DINNER AND P.S. I HATE COOKING AND CLEANING I’ll want to lock you in a little cage with a bowl of water again like the rabid animal you’ve been acting like for the past year.”

Side-note: Parents are so annoying. So many parents I know are just enamored with their little geniuses. They are the smartest, funniest, most well-behaved little angels. And they are just smitten. And they just brag and brag. And oh what great parents they are, right? God floated right down from heaven and waved his magical perfect parenting wand over their heads and they’re just doing everything right. Whenever parents go on and on about their kids being so awesome I just know that there is karma in the world and that what goes around comes around and their little babies will grow up and cook meth in the clubhouse they made for them off Pinterest. I just know it. Thank you Karma, thank you. You are a gift. And something to be feared.

That said, although I don’t claim Luke to be a genius or especially well-behaved, he’s recently gotten hilarious. I take credit for none of it. Half the time he’s funny just because he’s two and almost everything he says is just all messed up. The other half of the time, I’ve realized, he’s finally developing his own little personality and the kid is funny. And I’m proud of him. For him. Because he’s a moody little shit like me sometimes. And he’s temperamental. And demanding. And I take credit for all that. That comes straight from my gene pool, baby (You’re welcome Bub.). And even though those things will on one hand make him a total bad-ass, a total take-no-shit-go-out-and-snatch-the-world-right-outta-space kind of a man (And thank God for that. At least I don’t have to worry about him making his dreams come true.), in the long run the only thing that’s going to save him in this short life from isolating himself from everyone he loves with that crazy-town behavior is if he’s funny and has a good heart. Thank God he’s got both. Otherwise he’d be terribly unpopular later in life. And rather unfulfilled. I speak from personal experience.

So while I detest bragging parents, I will now join them. And brag about a few of the hilarious things Luke has been doing/saying lately. He’s due, afterall. All I’ve done is complain about him for a while now.

Funny shit Luke says:

1. The kids in the house behind us standing in their clubhouse yelling over the fence to Luke, “Hey, dude, what’s your dog’s name?”

Luke, standing in his clubhouse on the other side of the fence yelling back, “Phoenix!” (Sounds like Penis).

Neighborhood kids, “What?

Luke “Phoenix!” (read: Penis)

Neighborhood kids, “WHAT?!”

Luke, “PHOENIX! (Penis)”

Neighborhood kids to each other, “I don’t think he’s speaking English.”

Luke, “I SAID PHOENIX! Phoenix! Phoenix! Phoenix!” (Penis! Penis! Penis!) … LMFAO…

2. Talin and I have switched parenting duties and now he is waking up with Luke and taking him to school in the mornings and I am picking him up in the evenings and putting him to bed. As such, I have changed the bed-time routine and we are now praying to God (because if we don’t we are TOTALLY going to Hell) each night. Luke calls prayers “Dear Gods” or “Amens.” As in, “Mommy lets do Dear Gods.” And then he slaps his hands together and rubs them like Mr. Miagi. The other night during “Amens”:

Me: “Dear God, Thank you for the stars…”

Luke: “Thank you for stars…”

Me: “Thank you for the sky…”

Luke: “Thank you for sky…”

Me: “Thank you for…(I can’t think of anything, so there is a pause)”

Luke: “For apples.”

Me: “Oh yes. Thank God for apples.”

Luke: “And for bananas.”

Me: “Yes, what would we do without them.”

Luke: “And ants.”

Me: “And ants?”

Luke sits up in bed. We are in the dark and I can barely see, but I can see how big his eyes have gotten. “But Mommy the ants bite me.”

Me: “Well it wasn’t my idea to thank God for them.”

Luke: “But they bite me Mommy.”

Me: “Probably shouldn’t pray for them then.”

Luke: “They’re gonna bite me Mommy.”

Me: “Well not right now though because we are inside and they are outside.”

Luke: “Thank God.”

3. Each night, when I get home from work, there is complete chaos. Luke is freaking out because he’s starving (and no, a snack will not do, he wants to sit down and grub immediately). Phoenix is crying because she wants to go out and then she wants attention. I am trying to make dinner just like Martie back in the day: I have my coat and purse on because I don’t even have a moment to put them down and I am browning ground beef for tacos in a skillet on the stove. Luke is standing at my feet screaming for food even though he can see with his sweet little eyes that I am trying my best to cook him something. Phoenix trots back inside from going out to pee and I run over and kick the door shut, Luke following me every step of the way FREAKING OUT. I dump Goldfish in a ziplock baggy, pour him some juice and shove it in his face and so he is now standing beside me sobbing and shoving Goldfish in his mouth and choking on apple juice and now we have Phoenix sitting on the other side crying to be pet. They are battling for who can cry the loudest. I swear to God they egg each other on. I just try to ignore them even though I think my head might pop off and I feel like I’m going to explode from sheer stress (I cannot handle too much auditory stimulation and in this way I know that I have fucking WRONGED someone in my past because God gave me these loud ass motherfucking family members).

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^SHOOT ME^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

At some point, Luke surrenders and stops freaking out for a moment, but Phoenix is still whining and moaning. I could stop and pet her, but my rationale is that the kid is the priority and I gotta hurry up and get food on the table. She cries cries cries. Luke stands there by the stove eating his goldfish and watching her, a look of utter disgust on his face.

Luke: “Mommy.”

Me: “What?”

Luke: “Mommy.”

Me: “What?”

Luke: “Mommy.”

Luke: “Mommy.”

Luke: “Mommy.”

Me: “WHAT?!”

Luke: “Phoenix crying.”

Me: “Yes, she wants some attention. Why don’t you pet her?”

Luke: “No.”

Me: Sigh.

Luke: “No Mommy.”

Me: “Ok, fine. Don’t pet her.”

Luke: “I not pet her Mommy. Phoenix is a big baby.”

Me: “Seriously? I know you didn’t…”


Posted: October 14, 2012 in Uncategorized

Hey faithful readers. Due to the sensitive material in my book I have password protected those entries. If you’ve been reading and would like to continue, message me and I’ll send you the password. Thanks for reading!

Protected: Chapter 13: Luke

Posted: October 9, 2012 in Uncategorized

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below: