I lost my funny.

Well I am still funny. I just can't make it do something for me.

My humor and I have been great friends most of my life. I remember being a kid and just saying some of the most random funny things ever. My mom once asked me if I was born in a barn and I looked at her and said Jesus was born in a barn and he is a great fellow. I got in trouble anyway.

 I have wanted to be a comedian for a long time. I think I am just different enough to really make it once I get going. And here folks, is the problem. Getting going. Motivation.

I am my own worst enemy when it comes to going for gold. Watching the athletes on the Olympics I admire them and the courage and commitment it takes to get there. Its the same with being in the arts. Yes comedy is an art. I have to mold it and write it and edit it and finally perform it. I have to time my facial expressions, read the crowd. I have to have comedic timing. I have to put myself out there and just freaking try. And here I still am. Not doing it. I am terrified to succeed. I have all these wonderful talents that I do NOTHING with. I can write I can sing I can move I make people laugh. I speak in public without batting an eye. I am an amazing story teller. I have people listening to me even if its only about nothing....but will I do anything with this gift? Nope. Not yet.

So let me roll up my sleeves and figure out why I am just not doing it. Ok. Motivation. That's a good start. I just don't have the time or energy to add another thing into my list of stuff to do. I work full time. I am a mother of 6 kids. I have a huge house that I hate cleaning. I have meals to prepare. The Mount Everest of laundry and a husband that is another work in progress. I have friends that I love spending time with. I have a large family I love spending time with. I have a whole bunch of emotional crap to fix. I AM EXHAUSTED!! And now I want to chase my dreams too???!! I'm crazy.

This is hard to believe but I am not confident enough to  put myself out there yet. I have been judged so much in my life that to put myself up in front of people and ask them to like me is a little intimidating. I keep thinking that if I resolve all my fears of judgement I will be able to just do it and do it well. I need to slowly go through in my mind the things I believe people are judging me for and just...let it go. Did these people have to make the tough decisions I have had to make in this short life span? Did they have a life full of horrible pain that made them unable to pick themselves up for 13 years?  And why is it that the people the judge you the most harsh are the ones that are a joke themselves. They live this easy life that they can't stand. They have no one that really gives a crap about them. They have had no life experiences that have make them learn the very important lesson of empathy, or they have it but only use it for themselves. They feel really sorry for just themselves. Who are these people that judge others. My head races around and finds these people that have judged me harshly and ... they fall into two categories. People that have had an easy life and judge because its easy to judge someone when they don't freaking have a clue about real life. And people that have had it tough but want the spot light shone on someone else so they can get away with being horrible people that haven't grown or evolved.

Ok here it is. What do I deserve to be judged for. Holy crap I don't believe I am doing this on a public forum. But here it goes...GULP.

1. I AM FAT AND LAZY.
2. I HAVE DONE NOTHING WITH MY LIFE.
3. I GRIEVED REALLY POORLY.
4. I CHOOSE TO HAVE A LARGE FAMILY.
5. I HAVE BEEN BROKE MY ENTIRE ADULT LIFE.
6. I HAVE THREE DIFFERENT DADS FOR MY KIDS
7. I HAVEN'T COMPLETED ANYTHING I HAVE STARTED.
8. CHOICES I HAVE MADE HAVE CAUSED PAIN TO MY PARENTS, MY KIDS AND MYSELF.
9. I NEVER MADE MY PARENTS PROUD.
10. I LOST PRIMARY CUSTODY OF MY CHILDREN FOR A WHILE , DUE TO POOR CHOICES.


Holy crap this is hard to do. I am crying and writing and sorry all at the same time.

OK MY JURY!! You have all that on me!!! Do you think as a child I dreamed of blowing it this bad? Do you think I wanted to do all these things and that I am proud of it? Do you think I have any pride left after all this? Well I do. I am proud that I survived this. I am proud I fought to live through this pain and destruction. I am proud that I am STILL HERE!!! I made all these decision alone. ALONE!! I didn't have a sounding board of reason. I didn't have someone there to help me with this stuff. My judgement isn't sound and strong like I guess it needed to be with this life. I will never regret ANY of the choices I have made to have my kids. I have three different dads for them, but while I was train wrecking my life I was bringing on this planet 6 amazing kids and if it took all this to make that happen I would do it again and again. Losing them while I was going through huge amount of stresses like watching cancer take my mom, like dealing with my strained relationship with my dad and trying to save up to get my kids back was something I can't forgive myself for. What right do you have to judge me? Where you there? If you were. Why didn't you help me? Help my kids? Help in anyway? Because the answer is this. Its easier to stand by and watch someone go down in flames then to step inside the flames and pull someone out. Its easier to judge them and scorn them than to rescue them. Most of my tormentors are Christians. God must be proud of you. Make a nice poster of you and place it front and center and say...I am a Christian. I let people fall flat on there asses and judge them. Join today. Be one of God's people. SICK. I don't judge you for that, I can't, its not the way I was raised. But maybe you should spend more time looking at you and have a conversation with God. You don't have the right to judge me or anyone.

THERE. That's out there now. Doesn't seem so powerful to me anymore.  Ok a  little powerful still.

I guess once I forgive my yesterday I will find my tomorrow.

Stress

Stress has been part of my life since... oh crap I can't even remember not being stressed out. That’s stressful. I have a maximum quota of stress before I lose it. I can feel it welling up in me, choking me up in my chest cavity and then suddenly it wells up into my throat and then bang, I cry and cry and cry and cry. And get a nose bleed from my blood pressure, to add insult to injury.
There are all these self-help books out there about stress reduction and how to live a better life. I have read a few, and then threw them across the room when I was stressed. These people must be high to think that smelling scents like lavender will relax me, or chant or meditate or own a dog, A DOG!! I have owned a dog and stepped in crap and found that not soothing at all. I have done so many stress-relieving things that I could write a book on how NOT to relieve stress. I actually believe that I am where relaxation goes to die.
I once bought a stress ball. Mine busted and spilled all over my car. Note to self: Sue the stress ball company.
I am sure all of you have seen me at my stressed max. I get that twitchy eye and I look crazed and say random things...oh wait that’s me everyday. SEE!! And if you have been following, you know that while I am stressed like this I suddenly have this motivation to make a life altering decision that messes up my life. I need an intervention, or a get out of shit free card or a sponsor. SIGH.

I need a vacation. Sipping drinks over- looking a beach. AHHHH.

Or maybe I should just be glad that I have such a busy amazing life full of people and things that surround me with love and ambition and crazy random things that make me crazy. Yeah...that works a little. ARGH.

Giving Credit

Look I may have the worst credit in history. But I give credit constantly.

I look around me and see the great things about everyone. Everyone has self esteem issues. Even the most confident person you know has something that makes them fell like poo. A few compliments always make things better for a while.
Want to know one of my phobias? Compliments. I don't really feel comfortable getting them. I squirm like a worm. I guess I don't feel like I earn them. Sure I am funny, quirky, a great friend and family member but I don't think I earned that. I think of all the people that gave that gift to me first and then I gave it back. Like funny for instance, I got that from a series of people. Dad. Geez he is funny, Jason...funny. My mom in her dry dead pan way...funny. It was bound to catch. And I guess like others, I think I could have done better.

My motto is this: "What you think of me is none of my business". Good huh? Hard to live by though. Especially when there are people out there that have a very strong opinion of you. I have a bunch of people that have hard feeling towards me. Some I know about. Some I don't. At the end of the day, I shouldn't care what they think. But I do. Sometimes I wish they had the whole story before they formed those hard feelings. Sometimes I earned them. Sometimes I enjoyed making them mad. Sometimes while they were mad about the first stuff I added some more to make them even madder. That's how I roll. I guess sometimes, in my own defense I decided they don't like me; they will never like me, so I will make them like me the least possible. Look if they don't like you, you might as well have fun annoying them some. SIGH. I guess I have some more work to do in that department. Again people, don't expect me to find ALL the solutions to my problems. Some of them I still cling on to.

The ideal is to get to a place where you don't need to hear compliments to feel good about yourself. You get to a place where good or bad comments don't get to you. Either hard to hear or good to hear...they don't really impact you one way or another. I guess that is on my goal list. Right now, I will still avoid the bad (including the credit collectors wanting money) and squirm like a worm in the good. Again. I am a work in progress.

In the Motherhood

Being a mother is the hardest job I have ever had. It’s also the longest gig I have ever held. Usually I get annoyed with a job and quit or suck so bad they fire me. I have tried both with this job and still have the position.

I am not a natural mother. I have had to grow into the role that’s for sure. Then again I was only 16 when I had "T" and so I really had to grow-up. That was torture to both "T" and I. Here I was young, selfish, a irresponsible disaster, trying to take on a role that takes experience, knowledge and lots and lots of patience. I was doomed. I remember lots of times asking "T" what was I suppose to do. He would drool and smile at me... then spit up all over me. Obviously he isn't the guru I needed. So I looked to my mom for guidance. She, with her knowledge, patience and love taught me the basics and hoped that the rest; meaning bonding, love, respect and patience would follow. It took a while. I sure fought the system. Here was this drooling, loud, annoying early riser, stinky, needy being, intruding on my life. I remember waking up at his 6am morning time and complaining to him. "T" I feel its unreasonable to be up at this time. I feel you should just lay there and wait till a more reasonable 11am." His answer was to crap himself and cry until I wanted to rip my hair out of my skull. I tried to feed him, I tried to sing to him, I goo goo ga ga'd and yet the crying persisted. I finally called my mother at work, crying with "T" and said " He hates me...it's nothing else but that!!" My mom told me she was on her way home. And when she got there she took the sobbing, wet and hysterical mess away from me, told me to shower cuz I smelled like sour milk and anger and then an amazing thing happened. He stopped crying. She cooed to him and he sighed and fell asleep. ARGH!!!

It went on like this for a very long time. He took his first steps to my mom, he smiled at my mom, he said his first word to my mom. I was sucking bad.

Then one day my mom took me aside and said "This is your son. You have to be there for this stuff. You will regret it if you don't." She stepped out. I stepped in. ARGH. The minute "T" noticed I was in charge again he freaked. He kicked, he screamed, he freaked again. And then one day...it stopped and he reached for me to comfort him and I wanted to. We became great pals. Not really mother and son yet but pals. We went for walks, played, when to the beach (he got a sunburn, I learned about sunscreen and hats) and really finally bonded.

How wise of my mom to know how important that was going to be. While playing and hanging with him I was learning how to mother as well. I learned to carry Kleenex in my pocket because he was always slobbery, to bring extra bottles in the diaper bag when I went out with him because he was always hungry. Diapers were everywhere because he crapped like a full grown adult and the times I didn't have one I paid for it. I knew his sleeper size because after trying to wedge him into some that were to small and watching him try to walk around on bent toes I learned two things. One. You can cut the feet of the sleeper off to make it last longer or. Two he needs a new sleeper he is growing. I learned to keep us both on a schedule because being up late at night then up at "T's" morning hour was painful.

Before I knew it, I was a mom. A full on mom. Was I the best mom? Probably not. No for sure not. Was I still young, irresponsible and unorganized? YEP. But I was the best mom for "T" I don't think he would have traded me in for anyone...well maybe Grandma. She was his favorite. I was a very close second.

Yesterday I cried

So I was driving to the local grocery store, minding my own business when suddenly I ran into my past. Past was driving a gray truck and waved me through. I started to proceed when I recognized past and waved happily at him. I waved like a best friend waves to another. It was G.

When I realized what I was doing I stopped and parked the van and...cried. At first I was stunned by my minds natural reaction to G. My unthinking mind sees him as a friend. Not just any friend but someone I care deeply about and react with excitement and happiness. At first I was furious with myself. Why are you waving at that man like that? He is your sworn enemy. He has hurt you over and over and over again and you wave at him like a close friend? WHATS THE MATTER WITH YOU?
Then the answer slowly ebbed into my brain. This wasn't supposed to happen to us. He should still be your friend. He wasn't supposed to ever become your enemy. You had babies together, you were teen parents together, and you grew up together, laughed, cried, loved, fought, struggled, won, lost and did it all together. If true friendship isn't made of that...then what is it made of? And here is the kicker, because we ended everything while I was mourning Jason, I never mourned this relationship. I just sauntered off and went on living as though this relationship never happened. That was a gross injustice to this love. When did this become a contest on who can hurt who better? When did it become ok to tear each other apart and not own what we were doing? When did we say that this person wasn't worth respecting?

That in its self is a long story. Here is what I am willing to own about it right now. I hurt him. I left him without a back glance. I walked out of his life into his best friend's. I didn't grieve him or miss him. I didn't think about him or his feelings. I just left. After I left I closed him out of my life completely. He wasn't the only one; I cut out all my friends at that time, cut off my parents, shut out everyone. I just quit. I was pissed off. I know why.... now. When I couldn't get out of bed, when I was sad beyond anything, when I didn't want to take another breath, when everyone was judging me and I couldn't defend myself they G, Mom and Dad ( by no fault of there own, they were grieving a son) those friends...let me fall, hard, alone and to the bottom. I didn't know how to get up by myself.... but I did, somehow and walked away from them all. I walked from the betrayal, the heartache and never looked back until yesterday...until today.  I finally have healed enough to see it all. I am sorry that I been so angry for so long that I was blind to my part in all of this.
In that parking lot I finally grieved that relationship. I cried because I missed G. I cried because I let him down too. I collected myself. Dried my tears. Drove home and forgave us both.

Ode To the Fat Suit

In order to start the process of fat suit removal, I supose I should should be thankful for what it has given me then bid it adieu. I mean there is a reason it was put on, a reason I kept it so long and now there should be a reason I want to strip it off.

So here we go.

Thank you fat suit for keeping me warm in the winter. For teaching me to love my flawed body and giving me a new perspective on people and their journeys. I would have never known that its socially acceptable to pick on people for their weight, to sneer at them, to make horrible jokes and to automatically judge them as lazy good for nothings. I learned the truth to that. These are men and women, that have feelings that can be hurt, live everyday avoiding sneers, are trying to be happy regardless of judgement, and generally live better lives because we don't judge others for anything, because we know its not fair. We are hard working, *yes thats right you try doing the same jobs as everyone else with extra weight strapped to you*smart, beautiful inside and out, determined to get better, and the only real difference we have from "the skinnys" is we have one of our flaws out there where people can pick it apart and decide who we are based on it. Knowing that has made me a better person.

Thank you Fat Suit for giving me safety. You made me invisible for a while. I could go out anywhere without men paying attention to me before I spoke. I liked that I wasn't approached for my body, I was approached for my personality and wit first. That was a gift. Its something that every woman should have. Thank you Fat Suit for teaching me calorie counts, diets don't work and that motivation is the key to weightloss. Thanks for teaching me I wasn't motivated. I still might not be. Thanks for being something soft to hold when people needed hugs, a shoulder to cry on and a warm place to snooze. Thanks for storing my insecurities, my sadness, my loss and grief, and my anger. Thanks for storing cheese doodles( I will probably still lick the cheese off), lava cake (mmmmm lava cake) fried chicken, Mc Donalds , creme brulee (my favorite) icing, chocolate, salt and vinegar chips and everything else I tried to self medicate with.

Thank you fat suit for being there when I met Jon. It helped find someone that looks inside the person and loves them in what ever size or shape they come in. Its nice to meet people that don't care what you are on the outside, they only care about the inside. I am one of those now. I admit I wasn't before.

And last but not least Fat Suit, thanks for bringing with you all the problems associated with you, so that I have to let you go. You were safe, you were comfortable and easy to keep around, but your not healthy for me anymore.

So I bid you adieu.

Quite Honestly...Being honest sucks.

Hey we all struggle with this one. We all have insecurities that lurk inside us...festering there making us hesitate in our life's goals. I seem pretty confident. I say what I want most of the time. I answer truthfully most of the time. I own my crap like a pro. But I am super insecure inside. I constantly wonder how I am preceived by others.

Don't you wish that one day a year, you could have a open house inside everyones minds to see how they really see you. I think it would be liberating and a little painful. I mean how are we suppose to fix what is wrong unless someone TELLS us what we do wrong. You could live a whole life thinking your doing the right thing and in the end you find out that everyone actually thinks your horrible and wrong. That would be devastating  to me. I honestly want to do right onto others. I actually would like to never hurt another person again if I can. But sometimes it happens. Sometimes I will do or say something stupid and inflict pain or anger onto someone else. I don't like it. But I am human and a work in progress.


Why don't we have the power to be honest with each other? Don't want to hurt feelings? Especially women. WE should be the MOST honest with each other, but we are the worst at having how we really feel about someone in our head and put out a fake way we treat them on the outside. There isn't a person in this world that hasn't insta judged someone. Its not wrong to have an immediate impression of someone, what is wrong is to build a whole story about that person inside your head without involving them in the process. If you didn't like one thing someone did its not fair to assume that ..THAT is who they are. There is a whole story that made that person get to that place and your not that author. You don't have copy write to that story. Writing this just now, I realize that I have to re-read peoples stories and let them tell it. How do we do that?

 Call each other on our crap once in a while. Catch us doing something stupid and call it!!! Make the circle of deceit end. That inner dialog that we all have rolling around in our head about someone...share it. Not all the time. Maybe once a year. Have a meeting with your closest friends and lay it out. Not just the flaws but the solution to it. I think that would be powerful. A better way of handling it would be to bring a list of your insecurities with you and share them with your friends or family that you trust and get their opinion on it. Make the rule of no bull crap at the beginning of this meeting. And most important. Listen. Hear it. Own it. Painful as it could possibly be its better than living a false life. Honesty is a power we all have the right to have.

I AM FLAWED!!!

Well this could be hard. Admitting your own flaws. WOW.

I guess we should start with my judgement. I have horrible judgement. I would make friends with serial killers all the time if they wanted to be my friend. None have so far they think I am stalking them.

 Where do you get judgement from? Is it a learned thing or is it an instinct? Hell if I know...remember I am the one that sucks at it??!! Here is something I have learned. The choices I have made were made in huge stress. When your making choices under stressful or horrible situations I think you should get a pass card. A get out of shit free card. If I had those said cards I would be able to lay one down on the table and say " I know you want to be mad at me about this but...I have a pass card." but instead I have to face my mistakes.

Owning your bad judgement is also kinda hard. After you see your aftermath of crap, you have to say to yourself, wow I did all that with one choice. CRAP. For instance. I was married with three kids. I lost my brother and was devastated. . *Here comes the making a decision under distress* So I decide to leave my husband and not deal with a very flawed marriage. Not now. Not while I grieve. Not ever. *Here comes next bad decision* So I decide to hook up with his best friend Jerry *damn that was even a bad one for me* and forever make Glenn hate my guts. Glenn hating my guts has made our custody battle just beautiful. Its like World War 3!!! He, there for, makes decisions based on hatred and there for screws me over and over and over and over again. A little over kill I say...but ....deserved. A pass card please. Ok Glenn I know your pissed but here is my get out of crap card. TA DA. Life would rock with that pass card. But instead..you have to own your part in the crap. Take your medicine. Pay with heartache and tears and live with what you did. Argh.

You know what else I need? A person that has excellent judgement that hangs out with me all the time and says..."ummmm thats a bad idea." MAKES me listen and then chooses a better idea. Play this back with this wonderful person. "Glenn I want out of this relationship!!!!"  Good judgement person says "Bad idea for now just wait until your not crazy" TA DA..another bad choice gone.

Its not like I go out and try to cause trouble. I honestly don't. It ACTUALLY finds me. Anyone that knows me knows I am totally random. I don't have any reason or rhyme. I lose my purse, bank card, keys, important things like passports.(ok I found that one...in the bathroom)  As I age I am starting to keep better track of my stuff...sorta. I know how random I am and know the good places I normally leave things. I break lots of stuff by bumping into tables, walking into walls and knocking off pictures. I can never eat without leaving a blob of ketchup or sauce or crumbs on my shirt. I AM A DISASTER!!! There I said it. I own it. I annoy me. I have managed to surround myself with people that know I am a random disaster and they find my stuff, remind me of appointments and fix the things I broke. I hope to someday do that for myself... but I am already 36 and ...nothing is taking.

Choosing your family

When we are born into a family...its yours no matter what. They may drive you crazy, they may judge you or be your best friend, they may just not get you. Its a flip of the coin what you end up with. Some of us are blessed with a family that is close no matter what happens and others have a family that is broken and even all the Kings horses and all the Kings men can't put this family back together again. I have seen family feuds, families come together in hard times and family that don't speak anymore.

I personally have a little of it all. I have less than half of my immediate family left. Its just my dad and I. We have weathered the loss of my sister, my brother and finally my mom. Just the two of us. He drives me crazy, he's been known to judge me, he has been my friend, and he will never GET me. He has held me up when I was falling fast in my own bad choices and he loves me in his own way.  He is the last of that family. Over the last 7 years we have been investing in learning how to cope with each other. We still scrap over little stupid things, we still piss each other off, we still go long periods of no communication but we are learning and trying to be better to each other. I am understanding him better everyday. He is war weary. Lived a complicated life and still stands. I am built from that. I admire that. As a child you can't choose who your parents are and how much they are part of your life, but as an adult you can. Everyday I choose to be closer to him. To have a relationship that tests the pass of time. I know we can do this. Its painful figuring it out, but we will.

I've discovered that being without siblings is kinda hard. You don't have someone to complain to when your in a rip roaring fight with your parents, you don't have someone that understands your history, and your kinda lost to be honest. For the last all most 13 years I have been really lost. I was bitter. I own that. So I wouldn't make friends with anyone because I didn't want to share myself with anyone BUT a sibling. I became horribly private, secretive and lonely. I have cousins that have stepped up and taken great care of me when I needed it. A couple Aunts that have heard me out and picked me up and dusted me off and sent me off again. But I still felt like an orphan. Not by anyones fault by my own. I wouldn't let them in. I was protective of that place in my heart reserved for Jason. I'm sorry for that. I lost a lot of time and friendships mourning him.

Then one day I met Wendy. She was quirky and funny and outrageous like me. She was deep and good at pointing out the crap I was so full of. She called me on my bullshit constantly. I needed that. She challenged me to become part of the living again. She told me she was here to stay and that I can push all I want...she isn't going anywhere. And push I did. I yelled and cried and ranted and raved. I pushed and screamed and and and...healed a little. Then she got to me. She said to me this.... " What you are is a work mule. You tread along looking down because if you look up there is more work and its depressing. You see a life without Jason and its horrible to you. I challenge you to look up and see your children, see your family and see me. We are here to help you see that life isn't always hard work. You can rebuild with our help. Just give us that chance."  I did. I have choose Wendy to be my sister for life. She makes me feel like a sibling all over again. We call each other when our parents make us crazy, we know each others history, we cherish our differences and we are growing up together. I feel safe for the first time in my life. I can make mistakes and I know I have people to pick me up and get me back on. Its really empowering.

Another wonderful addition to my family is Holly. She and I met while I worked a short gig at Tim Hortons. The moment I met her I knew she was forever. It was weird that either of us worked at Tim Hortons in the first place. She is experienced in bending metal and working on the field and I am office and accounting. Crazy that we both decided to go to Tims for our between gigs job. Holly is like a big sister. She mothers me like one. She constantly makes sure I take care of myself and is the rock when I'm my space cadet self. I can screw up, get lost, forget my appointments, break stuff and she comes along and fixes it. You know when I knew for sure these two girls were my sisters was when I was at Holly's hotel with her and Wendy. I fell over the side of the bed holding my glass of pop and spilled it every where. Without stopping conversation both Holly and Wendy just cleaned it up and put a towel on my head which was dripping with coke...it was automatic to fix my disasters!!! Made me laugh so hard that they are so used to my crazy random ways.

There are more amazing stories to tell. I have a few sisters now. These two have been here through the disasters and the victories. I will of course introduce you to others through the course of this blog but remember these two...they will be making quite a few guest spots.

In the end, your family is who you choose to be with forever. They can be blooded or not blooded. Its who supports you at the end of the day. When Holly was getting married the clerk asked if we were sisters and I didn't even hesitate when I said we sure are. The clerk said "I could tell, you look a lot a like." Joe, Holly's husband rolled his eyes... because Holly agreed....under oath. HAHAHAHAHAHA.

I AM FLUFFY!!

I am fluffy.

I am 5'3 256lbs. Yikes. Writing that makes it even more real. I have been fluffy for 13 years. I was athletic most of my teen years. I was great at most sports. I was one of the best sprinters in our school and no one could out wrestle me. I swam contantly was good at it and it calmed me. (anyone that knows me, knows that calming me isn't easy) I am very competitive. If someone thought they could beat me at something, I made it my lifes goal to do better. I miss that body. I miss that passion

I began my weight gain when I was 23. I was triggered into gaining weight after I lost my brother Jason. All passion died. I can't explain it to people. We had a bond that isn't understood by most. We understood each other without words and we could just be with each other and be content. We fought hard. Some of our best battles were about nothing. I learned my best wrestling moves from him...or should I say practicing on him. We would agree to disagree about his choice of girlfriends. We would try to fly homemade kites made of plastic bags and string (they don't fly...case you don't know) and run for hours trying to get some air time. We would plot how to get ourselves a walkie talkie so we can talk at bedtime. (our parents were on to us and would refuse to get us one) We snuck out of our rooms at night and watch SCTV and Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show and our favorite Saturday Night Live...back when it was amazing.

 Jason was my best friend and soul mate.  My humor, which you will see later came from him. He and I would look for funny things in everything. A smarties box could entertain us for hours...we were simple creatures. Some of my funniest moments happened with him. I remember....so much. His death shook me to my core. I wear this fat suit to protect me from a life that doesn't have him in it.

So that my friends is my fluffy story.

I should drink.

Well my new friends I guess we should have a group pow wow and get to know each other. I should tell you a little about me and then you can decide if you want to follow this blog. Hell I don't even know if I want to follow this blog.

I am a divorced 36 year old mother of 6. Thats right 6. The weirdest question I always get when I tell people I have 6 kids is " Are they all yours?"  Um. Is there an option to say no? Maybe I could get a DNA test? I am the mother...of course they are mine!!!  The ages of my children are 19,17,14,10,6 and 3. Yes siree we are a busy bunch. My oldest "T" is living on his own. He keeps me busy with his fast driving, his lack of judgement concerning jobs, and his motto of drive fast live hard leave a good looking body. I should drink.

My daughter, we will call her "A" is graduating this year. She is tall and beautiful and sweet. She is the one that drives me the craziest. She is so naive and believes the best in everyone all the time. See. Drives you crazy already huh?

The next in line "M" is short and overly developed for her age. I should drink. The boys at school pick on her so much. I know that she will develop character by letting her deal with it herself but...is character letting people dictate how you should look and feel and be??!! I think that judgemental people start in junior high. I think that they should be shut down now before they reak havoc on the earth by treating people like crap and making them hate themselves. Who raises these monsters anyways??!! If my brother and I picked on anyone and our parents found out...death. Not even kidding. I keep giving her one liners to use on these creatons, so far it keeps them at bay. But they are strong at being arseholes. Probably come from a long line of abusive jerks.
"E" is blonde and green eyed. Skinny and smarter than anyone in our family. She gets super great grades naturally. She makes friends and loses them all in one sitting and is a natural at mothering everyone. She is super good with her siblings. She is easy to raise....so far. I mean she isn't a teenager yet...but its only around the corner. ....I should drink.

"Boo" is my youngest son. He is sweet and kind. His little sister "Tiny" owns him. When she gets mad at him she will grab the cat shake it up and throw it at him. Claws come flying at him at 100 miles per hour. What other mother hears " Mom "Tiny" threw the cat at me again...I'm bleeding!!" She uses weapons this young? And a cat!!! Only my family. I should drink.

So there is a little about my family. There is a bunch of main characters in my life that you will be introduced to...my friends...hold on to your hat for that blog.