Some days…

Some days I feel like a super hero.

I know I am a good mom and a good person.

Perfect I am not.

And I hate that word.


Nothing is perfect.

Life is messy. Life is trial and error.

Life can be calm. Hectic.

Every day I grow and learn.

But, some days I am completely on point.

I feel like nothing can stop me.

I feel empowered and strong.

I feel pretty and my self esteem seems settled at an acceptable point.

Then you have days when the whole world comes crashing down.

The evil that lurks in the shadows lashes out.

Looking for control, looking to strike you down.

Everything suffers.

You suffer. You can’t breathe. You struggle to get ahold.

Slipping and losing grip at the mercy of your destroyer.

I will not allow the forces to win.

I will battle for what is right no matter the consequences.

The consequences of watching myself temporarily weakened, broken down and feeling defeated.

But, I will still not let them win.

The things that keep me fighting are always in my heart and mind.

They are the images that let me know that it is okay not to be perfect, but to always be the best I can be.

At every moment, even when I feel like I am failing.

I am my best for them, even when I believe I am not enough.


Life sentence

I am doing a life sentence. No, I didn’t murder anyone, I merely got a divorce.

November 13, 2015 is when it was official, but somehow I am still dealing with the mental and verbal abuse.

He doesn’t specifically call me names, not to my face anyways. He saves that for telling the kids so when they get back home with me, I can hear all about what daddy said or what there soon to be wicked step mother has said about me.

And I don’t mean to retaliate, but I am almost 40 years old. Getting really tired of having to hear highschool drama. I bite my tongue most of the time. I know, just say nothing. But, it’s hard not to when it is so hurtful.

But, the never ending abuse is that no matter what I do or say, it is never the right thing, by his standards anyways.

I am not him, and I will make certain never to be. I don’t parent like he does, but that doesn’t make me a bad parent.

Their clothes aren’t new enough, or don’t meet his approval.

A long sleeved white t-shirt and pink sweatpants does not make a kid a hobo. As he called her that right to her face.

Loud flowery pants are not ridiculous if the kid likes to wear them. Kindergarten is not a fashion show and why can’t she within reason make some of her own decisions. It’s called having a mind of her own.

They obviously frown upon that considering they are all treated like little soldiers.

And it all comes back to me. I am a bad parent for allowing my kids to make small choices in their lives. Why does it matter what design was on her pants. She didn’t look “ridiculous”, she was happy with them and you made her feel bad.

They have clothes on their backs. Yes, the majority are hand me downs, because I just can’t afford to hit the malls and buy them the latest and greatest.

They have plenty of food to eat. They have a roof over their heads, running water and electricity. They have heat. They do homework and go to school each day. I buy them new shoes one at a time as I can afford it. They have backpacks and lunch bags to carry their stuff in. They have beds to sleep in. We do stuff as a family. I make homemade meals most nights.

I punish them when need be and revoke privileges when necessary. I take care of them when they are sick and I urge them to talk when I know something is wrong.

We play, we laugh and we love.

I don’t do things his way, but that doesn’t make me a bad parent.

I shouldn’t have to always defend myself. I shouldn’t have to always feel judged and scrutinized. I shouldn’t have to look over my shoulder constantly worrying that if I don’t do something to his standards that he will threaten to seek full custody or call children’s services on me.

I shouldn’t have to live with constant anxiety.

And yet I take the abuse. Being talked down to like I am a child. Berating me and my decisions.

It is a life sentence of constantly having to hear about how bad of a mom I am because I don’t force my kids to clean baseboards as a punishment.

Because a coat is old and worn and needs replaced, but I just don’t have the money for it right now. I don’t even have a coat.

Or hear about how my one daughters hair was a mess because she didn’t want it pulled up and quite frankly doesn’t give two shits about being perfect all the damn time.

I have to hear about how he gave me everything in the divorce and how he still needs to pay for two households.

I am tired of being beaten down and harassed about everything he doesn’t agree with.

It is abuse.

When my kids are skipping school, not doing homework, running the streets with no clothes, malnourished, doing drugs, stealing, living with no heat or electricity, unclean and unhappy, then he has every right to attack me.

But, that is not the case.

Every day of my life revolves around the lives that I carried in my womb for 9 months. Every sacrifice I make is for them so that I can give them the best that I can give them. I give them my best, always. Doesn’t that count for something?

It doesn’t make me a bad mum.

And yet I am bullied and broken down and because of him, I feel like I am.

I have no leverage to make it stop. He won’t stop and I don’t know what to do. There are no laws or rules that can make it stop.

I just want to live in peace. It has been nearly three years since the separation and I am still being punished. I am still being treated like I am garbage. I am still being made to feel inadequate. I am still being bullied and talked down to.

It makes me sad, it makes me want to cry at times. It makes me angry. It makes my anxiety shoot through the roof. It makes me second guess myself and feel like I am not good enough.

I received a life sentence of being treated like shit from a narcissist. An angry bully who feels superior.

All because I wanted a divorce.

I can draw!


I am a super creative person. Crafty and artistic.

I laughed recently as I was cleaning out the closet and reorganizing some boxes.

On any given day, I can pretty much guarantee that if you need or want to do some kind of project, I have the tools necessary to complete it.

Need a basket? I have some, with or without a handle?

Iron on letters, ribbon, artificial flowers, several types of adhesives…beads, buttons and yarn. To name a few.

I am literally a tiny craft store.

A lot of my stuff comes in handy when a makeshift repair needs made. Like a jewelry making ring to act as a zipper pull.

But, drawing is something I am only so so with.

I used to put little notes in my 9 year olds lunch bag.

But, that got boring. Recently, I began making drawings of some of their favorite characters.

I google pictures of them, and after my kiddos go to bed, I draw.

So now, it has become such a hit that I get special requests.

My preschooler doesn’t do lunch, but she has begun to make requests.

I don’t draw every night. Sometimes I am just too tired. I have also tried and failed with some.

There are way better artists out there.

But, I can only imagine the smiles on their faces when they see what I have drawn.

My oldest has started to hang them on the bulletin board in her room.

She loves Mario and a game called Five Nights at Freddies.

We all like Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon.

It’s fun to see what I can actually draw.

It is also super fun to do something special for my girls.


I’m gonna’ write a book

Yes, I know “gonna” is not correct.

I excelled in school at english and writing.

It has always been something I enjoy.

I used to write poetry all the time.

So now, I am going to try my hand at a book.

What about, you ask?

I could write about my life. All its ups and downs and twists and turns.

But, one little girl inspired me.

I am going to write a kids book.

One evening, my 4 year old was drawing with her sisters.

She came to me proudly holding a piece of paper. She was happy to show me her latest picture.

As she explained to me each character and what was going on, my eyes kept going back to one specific doodle.

I kept thinking how damn cute this little guy is.

He needed a name. So I asked her what she would name him.

She called him Barnie. I went for the non-traditional spelling so as not to be confused with that other once famous character.

So, here we have Barnie. This cute, little, and happy character.

I have to write a story about him.

I have actually finished a rough draft of the story and what goes on each page.

And because my daughter created this character, she is going to supply the illustrations.

This may take time. But, it will be so worth it. I am going to gather her drawings and use them in the book.

My idea may go nowhere.

And that is ok. I will get to scratch something off my bucket list and make a memory with my child.


Meant to be a mom

It occurred to me just a but ago, while I was making an ass out of myself to entertain Peyton, I am meant to be a mom.

Go back about 20 years and I would tell you differently.

I was never really around kids and babies growing up. I didn’t hate them, but I also had no opinion on them.

I have never been able to pinpoint where exactly in life I belong, but I sure as hell didn’t envision myself having 4 kids, all girls.

I have had my doubts, and haven’t we all. That moment where you just don’t think you can take much more.

My journey is a little bit different than most.

I also never planned to get a divorce.

Of all the obstacles I have faced in life, getting a divorce has been the most difficult.

The challenges continue.

You resolve one issue and have another one. Or there are things that remain hurdles and you just have to realize that it comes with the territory.

Like they say, “there are no winners in war”, and divorce is just that. No matter how ugly or amicable they are.

There are still casualties.

Through it all, I have primarily remained unchanged when it comes to how I am as a mom.

I have changed. I have grown. Life has changed. It is all just part of the aftermath.

I realized, that even though I didn’t see my life going in this direction, I had no planned direction to begin with.

I am literally writing my book of life as I go along. The following pages are blank, and I can write them as I wish.

Even though I didn’t go to college, get a degree, buy a big house, travel and whatever else goes along in the package of a “successful” person, I am successful.

I am good at being a mom. I am meant to be in this position.

If I were to sit down and list all the tasks and duties I perform just to keep them alive and well, the list would have no end.

Add in all the extras and well if it were a job, I would be getting totally screwed on pay and benefits.

But, I don’t bitch. Even though I struggle every day with the complexity of life in general.

I sometimes get tired. I get angry and sick just like everybody else. I am not perfect.

When I truly look at where I am, I am doing something I love. I am caring and nurturing and loving and it comes naturally.

I have improved my motherly abilities and damn it, I am proud.

4 little lives depend on me and I go above and beyond for them.

I am truly meant to be a mom.

If someone would have told me 20 years ago that I would have 4 beautiful lives to love and to hold and to help them to grow, I would have just laughed.

I have been through so much in recent years. I have quit and given up on things. But, my love and desire to be a mom is still as strong as ever.

I have succeeded at something.


I did it

I challenged myself to at least one thing.

It wasn’t big. But, it counts.

I have been wanting so badly to make my Jamberry business work.

One day I will get all pumped and want to really start putting some serious effort into success.

Then the following day a kid gets sick, then I get sick. Bills aren’t going to get paid and the stress just has your brain going through all possible outcomes. Or an old dog has become increasingly tough to handle.

There is always some obstacle that pops up to knock any positivity out of me.

And that there my friends is an excuse. In which I used to boast about making no excuses and going after what I wanted.

I lost that spark. I lost that fire.

I can not believe the path of destruction my divorce left.

But, Today, Today I did one thing different.

I exposed myself a little.

I made little packages, only 5 and left them in the mailroom. A flyer, business card, some samples and application instructions. Just as a test run.

A few hours later, I went to get the mail and they were all gone.

I have a feeling they did not disappear the way that I intended.

But, I did it. I did something I have been making excuses not to do.

I need to make more and I need to take them with me whenever I go.

And tomorrow, something else.


In the “write” place

I never planned for my life to go the way it has. 

In fact, I never really envisioned anything other than being happy. 

Is it careless to allow life to go as it should?

Should I have made sure that I had a clear and precise plan?

What I am sure of, is that everything has happened for a reason. Even when I have had doubts. 

With every step, each obstacle or victory or test or reward, has shaped my life the way it truly needed to go. 

I am not a religious person, but I understand why having something to believe in is so important. 

It gives you the hope to continue going when you don’t think you can. 

In my mindset, I have been through a lot. In each persons mind, their fight is unique and worse than anybody elses. 

Just remember that, and don’t try to down play their struggle. 

I believe my journey, no matter what I thought it was supposed to be, happened the way it was meant to. 

I have found that I have come almost full circle. 

I have found that “person” I was supposed to be with. 

I have learned about the importance of love and trust and family. 

I am coming back to that creative and unique chick I once was. 

All I can feel is that I feel more at home now in my skin, and I lost my way for a bit. 

I have always been driven by my desire to create, to make, to be a part of anything that pertained to art. Music, writing, drawing, painting, giving, creating….those are things that drive me and keep my heart alive. 

I always hoped that one day I would be “famous” so to speak for something that involved my talents. 

Things I had to learn, but things that I taught myself and had an abilty for. Things that made me happy to share with others. 

I have always loved to write. 

I have always loved being creative. Making floral arrangements, crocheting or coming up with my own ideas for something new and neat! 

I love photography and taking pictures of everything. Capturing moments and memories and beauty. 

I love to sing even though I am only so so. Music has always been fuel for me. 

I would love to show my girls to never give up on their dreams. 

I am almost 37 years old, and I feel like I have a whole hell of a lot to still offer.

Just want to find that thing that helps me to connect with the world. I want to make a difference!