What about friends?

What about social interactions?

Don’t you think the actual teachers are better to teach your child?

Homeschooled kids are weird.

You just don’t want to vaccinate, huh?

When people approach a family who has chosen to homeschool their children, they are so full of misconceptions and ignorance that they just usually spew it out like a Venetian fountain.


Who says that friends are only found in a public school classroom? I know that many of my BEST friends were found while I was out experience life. People with common interests. Not people I was forced to congregate with based purely on age and regional location. Forced interactions don’t friendships make.


In the same breath, social interactions don’t only happen with peers. My child interact in stores, doctors’ offices, with their siblings and family. Nobody define social interactions as those only had within the walls of a government funded school.

Ahhh. Teachers. Teachers are great people. I’ve personally had some amazing teachers in my years. And I’ve had some who had checked out and didn’t care much. I actually had an Arts and Humanities class in 11th grade that was required for graduation. The teacher, who was a French teacher said that she didn’t like this class and she didn’t like teaching it. So why the hell should I like learning it? All of this is a moot point to the fact, I don’t have 25+ children running around that I have to attempt to teach. I have 3 that are being homeschooled. Each of them, my own. I carried them, birthed them, and subsequently taught them through their early development. I think I am perfectly capable and qualified to teach my own children.

Homeschooled kids ARE weird. If by weird you mean not pretentious jerks that are easily swayed by their peers and all follow Kanye on Twitter. (Not saying there’s anything wrong with Kanye but Yeezus, he’s not who I want my children aspiring to be.)  I’m going to make a massive generalization here, from my experience many kids in the public school system are ignorant, rude, sex driven little beasts with unrestricted access to the internet on their computers and iPhones. They’re self entitled titty babies who cry, “That’s not fair” when they don’t get to play first string.  Everyone gets a participation medal even if they suck.


Children are never allowed to learn to cope with disappointment and failure. Failure is a part of life. It happens. Its how we learn to do better but now, they expect something for nothing just because they’re there.

Now as to my children’s vaccination status…

PUBLIC SCHOOL, PRIVATE SCHOOL, HOMESCHOOL, NO SCHOOL— my vaccination status and their medical records are nobodies business. Ohio currently allows children who are not vaccinated in the school as long as they have the proper exemptions filled out. This may change in the future but for now, it is what it is.

So the next time someone says, “Oh we’re homeschooling”. Don’t be that guy. Don’t be the person who tells them they’re making a bad choice. Just because it isn’t the choice for you doesn’t mean its a bad one. People have their reasoning.


It is 11:51 am and I’ve yelled 12 times.

For the last four years or so, I’ve been practicing gentle parenting. I don’t normally yell. I don’t spank. We use our words but the last few weeks have been hell.

My patience is wearing thin. My oldest is 9. She tests my patience to a point where I want to cry. I am so defeated that a 9 year old is getting the best of me. We start bed time routine at 8PM. They’re still fucking around at 9PM and 10Pm and occasionally even 11PM. They don’t even try. I’ve asked. I’ve pleaded. I’ve been nice about it and now the only thing left is being not nice about it.

My four year old laughs at me when I tell him to do something. He legitimately falls on the floor laughing at me. He cries and screams and tantrums to no end and then when its all over, he laughs.

My two year old doesn’t speak. She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t care. You try to talk to her and she just pokes you in the eye and says “Mama Eyes” and proceeds to point out everyone’s eyes.

So I’ve yelled and yelled and yelled and threatened to take away all of their toys. I’ve tried scaring them into submission. I’ve tried saying, “I’m calling dad!” Nothing works. They’re still not listening.

I’ve come to a simple conclusion:

My children escaped from my womb to make me want to run away. They elicit this fight or flight response every time.

So if you need me, I’ll be binge watching ID while eating giant Reese’s because #adultingsucks.

An unending cycle of dependence

In February of 2016, my husband lost his job. He had a very good job. It paid well and we were able to pay for everything we needed and have extra left over for fun stuff. We were middle class and I was okay with that. We didn’t depend on any sort of welfare to get by.

As soon as he lost his job, I applied for assistance to make it less stressful. My husband applied for literally hundreds of jobs and I applied for some as well in addition to my design work and art. He went to a few interviews and never heard anything back. After 5 months, he found a job making half of what he had earlier but I told him, “We’ll make it work. We always make it work.” 

So he’s been working for over a month now and he’s make 1/4 of what he normally does so far. The money is gone before the weekend is over with paying bills.

A few days ago, I got a letter from the ODJFS that we needed to verify income. That’s fine. I’m not trying to scam anyone and we send it in. They’re cutting our benefits in half. So seeing our predicament, I started applying for more jobs. Seeing as I have a college degree, I figured I could make more than minimum wage but alas— there are no jobs where I live that aren’t minimum wage.

So I look into daycare.

$500 a week. So I look up child care assistance… by working, I make myself ineligible.

So then I think, “What if we work alternating shifts?”

All jobs in my town seem to require open availability and won’t let me just work one shift and my husband has been working different schedules because of training.

Its a never ending cycle.

My birth stories…

I have just recently came to peace with the stories of my children’s births. For so long, I thought that if I didn’t talk about them, it was like they never happened. So…

At 20 years old, I found myself pregnant and very uneducated about birth and pregnancy. In all my infinite knowledge, I allowed my doctor to induce me the day after my due date. I wasn’t dilated at all and barely effaced. After 16 hours of back labor, they deemed it “failure to progress” and at 10:02PM, my daughter was born via cesarean. I was very heartbroken. Later I found out that my OB had a golf tournament early in the morning which just upset me even more. Fast forward four years and I am pregnant again. I had heard about VBAC but I was really uneducated about it. I wanted my vaginal birth so I switched providers four times. By 36 weeks, I was so disheartened at the lack of VBAC support and providers, that I consented to a elective cesarean. It was much more relaxed than my first and I felt a little better about it but I still was very upset. Two years later, I am knocked up again, and my OB said I could try for the VBA2C as long as I went into labor before my due date. I was so excited! I went to every appointment, made sure to stay healthy and keep myself in prime shape. Then I started realizing that every time I had an ultrasound, he’d find something wrong and send me to the high risk doctor. At my 30 week appointment, he said he was going on vacation from the week before until after my due date and we should just schedule my section for the his last day before he left. I refused. I was given the opportunity to try for my VBAC and he wasn’t taking it away for his convenience. At 37 weeks and 2 days, I had a growth scan scheduled. I went and after the ultrasound, the technician sent me upstairs for a “non stress test”. Okay. Not a big deal. I get up there and the nurses are all looking at me and they walk me to the pre-op room. I have my mother-in-law with me, my husband is home with my two other children and they’re trying to give me a section right then and there. He said that the fluids were dangerously low and she had to come right there or she could die. He also said, “It is in and out and we’re done.” Business as usual, right? I was so scared that my baby was going to die. I called my mother and asked her to meet me at my house so she could take my kids and I could grab my husband and I went back for my third section. (I am getting so mad even just writing this out.)

Nothing makes me more angry than just typing this out. It hurts my soul to think that a chance at a normal, natural delivery has been taken away from me because of choices my first doctor made. A man who is no longer a practicing OB/GYN. That man ruined everything. My perfect birth— gone out the window. My subsequent births— ruined.
I know people say that your births are what you make them but I honestly find that to be the biggest load of garbage that I have ever heard. A woman can only fight so much before she gives in from sheer exhaustion.

Being A SAHM

My day started at six am with a poopsplosion from the youngest. She has had tummy issues for the last two days and it has resulted in numerous outfit changed on both of our parts. So bright and early before I’ve even had a cup of coffee, I am giving a 10 month old a bath and singing her a song because she hates baths— with a passion.

7 AM rolls around and the oldest is up. She’s hungry and I better make her cereal right then or she’ll do it herself and make a huge mess.

8 AM brings the boys awakening. He’s screaming and punching the door because god forbid I take my time. He also managed to pee through his diaper and the bed, his jammies, and he are all soaking wet with the awesome smell of piss and he crapped up his back. Just another bath to another kid who hates baths even more than Charley.

I have to hurry though because Adison has to be in language arts class at 9 AM and I have to stay on her like white on rice. She wants to go to Youtube and watch Frozen videos or play stupid Frozen games. She wants to fight with her brother because he’s being a jerk. Class runs until 10:15ish and then I have 45 minutes to go to the store and get what I need to get.

I get home at 10:50 and unload three kids plus all the crap I bought and then I have to get everything ready for my husband to get up to go to work. So 30 minutes to roll his cigarettes, make his lunch, get his clothes, and put everything into the bathroom for him. I wake him up at 11:28. I have to change two diapers in between there too because they all shit at the most inopportune time.

I haven’t eaten anything nor I have I sat down besides to drive the car.

My husband leaves for work at 11:44 and then I have to get the kids fed their lunch and then Adison into her school work which she has to work on until 1 PM when its time for math class. I have to keep Benjamin busy while Adison works and Charley naps and I still haven’t eaten anything.

Benjamin finally goes down for a nap around 2 PM and I get stuff done around the house. The last few days, I’ve painted the entire downstairs. Charley wakes up from her nap and Adison plays with her for a few minutes and then around 4 or 5, Benjamin wakes up and he’s hungry. So I start dinner and that takes usually 45 minutes. While I am cooking, I am asking Benjamin to “quit touching the lamp” or “stop climbing on the chairs.” Its always the same thing, every single damn day.

“Stay out of the fridge.”

“Quit licking your sister.”

“Quit hitting each other.”

“No, you can’t have a cookie. It’s almost dinner time.”

I feed everyone dinner and its yet again, a whole lot of me telling Ben to sit down and eat. We usually spend over an hour at the table. Everyone calms down and watches a bit of tv before bed. Charley falls asleep in her pack and play around 8 PM. I take Benjamin upstairs and put him in his bed and we read the ABC book (EVERY SINGLE NIGHT) and I tell him “Good night Tookie. I love you.”

And I get a cute little, “Lub du.” He doesn’t even take the cup out of his mouth.

9 PM rolls around! Adison’s turn. I then spend the next hour telling Adison to go upstairs with her coming back down to tell me something or ask if she can do my hair or something ridiculous. It goes on and on and on until I finally say, “Dad’s on his way home.”

She finally goes into her room for the night.

I spend the next hour or so picking up after everyone. I put all the toys away and do the dishes. I feed all the animals.

My husband walks in the door.

Me: “How was work?”

Him: “It was work. What did you do all day?”

Me: “The usual.”

Him: “Sooo nothing?”

I spend the next two hours getting homework done and making taking a bath or shower. Then I go to bed.

In addition to all these things, I am also supposed to take the garbage down to the end of the driveway, shovel the driveway, and in the summer— I mow.

What the fuck?

So men, if you have a stay at home wife, don’t be a dick. She doesn’t stop all day. Even if she did nothing else but take care of the children, that’s more than your job. You can at least escape to the shitter at work. If she says she needs a break, trust her. She does. Don’t ever say you have a vacation every day.

Lastly, don’t make her do what you’re supposed to do.

77 Days!

In 77 days, my husband and I will welcome our new daughter, Charlee into the world, in an operating room.

Why you ask?

Well, to give the short version, I have never dilated or effaced on my own. None of my babies have ever became fully engaged and even with pitocin, I have only gotten to 3 or 4 cm after 16 hours. My OB has said that if I go into labor before my scheduled c-section, I can attempt to VBA2C. I would love that. In fact, it would make having a 6 year old, 2 year old, and newborn much simpler but I have a bad feeling that Charlee will be as stubborn as the rest of her siblings.

Funny story.

I was talking to my mother the other day about my awesome breast pump (which I still use for Benjamin who has been given exclusively pumped breastmilk for 18 months) and she told me that I shouldn’t be giving him breast milk anymore. He doesn’t need it. I am honestly agitated at her lack of knowledge about it. She didn’t breastfeed any of her three kids. She says its because her “boobs were too small.” Apparently, breast size is in direct correlation with ability to produce.

She also told me to get my tubes tied and to not wear this baby so it wasn’t a titty baby.

(Let’s avoid the lynch mob. FOR NOW.)

When I was a teenager, I promised myself that I would never be like my mother.

I would never put my needs and wants above those of my children.

I would never let my children CIO because I needed a “break”.

A crib wasn’t and still isn’t a place for the baby to hang out.

A baby needing love isn’t impeding on my life as an adult.

I will never lock children in their rooms at night so I can sleep in.

I would never practice their so-called “unattached parenting”.

I was five, maybe six years old and I remember being locked in my room in the morning because I didn’t want to wait for my mother to get up at noon. I am twenty-seven years old and I still remember freaking out and banging on doors and windows because I had no idea why I couldn’t open my door.

I don’t want my children to carry around memories like that. I don’t want them to ever feel unimportant or abandoned by the one person who is supposed to always be there. NO MATTER WHAT.

I chose to be a stay at home mom. That means above all, I am a mother.

4:52 AM

Well, I haven’t blogged in awhile so I woke up and can’t get back to sleep. What better to frivolously pass my time but to blog. Ehhh…

In the news, Adison comes home from her father’s today and by father’s, I mean his mother’s.  This entire summer has been spent with her paternal grandmother and her dad got her every other weekend. Don’t ask me why but I am pissed. Her summer is ending early and its probably due to his mother not getting something she wants like custody or child support. Ha Ha. What a joke!

She will be back with me permanently and I am super excited.

Benjamin doesn’t walk and everyone seems to want to point that out. I personally would be okay with it if he didn’t walk until later because I hate chasing running babies.  He is learning lots of words and likes to say to the dog, “Jack Sit.”  He has also began to show his excitement with everything, even mundane things.

We’ve decided to cloth diaper exclusively. Now I am not rich so I am sharing a link and site with everyone I know who wants to use cloth. There is a website called Cotton Babies. They have started a cloth diaper bank and there are some near your house. I am super excited to get them on Tuesday!

Share the Love Locations

It was super easy and Lisa was great and very helpful. I doubt Lisa will help all of you but just in case, she’s really nice!

She also has a SAHM mom blog and reviews a lot of products… Check her blog out!

Back to the nitty gritty.

I have decided that with all the possible options for wearing your baby, I am a ring sling momma. I love my ring sling. I recently made myself a new one. It’s gorgeous! (At least I think so!)


This is my new baby! It was originally brown and white plaid linen. With the help of some Rit Dye and a bunch of rubber bands, I was able to create this. It is turquoise and kelly green ombre with aqua ring slings. I have also since put a huge pocket on it so Benjamin can throw his sippy cup and other random things in there. 

I also made my own mei tai this past week. I am not a fan of them. They’re nice but I prefer my sling. I guess after nearly fifteen months of slinging my child, I have grown accustomed to it. I will keep trying the mei tai because maybe it is just me.

I bought some Osnaburg to make a wrap. A member of my FB and personal friend of mine, Ashlee suggested it. I am a texture person. I can’t stand so many types of fabrics and how they feel against my skin but I actually like this fabric. Its good by me.

Still learning the different wraps and Benjamin doesn’t want to sit still long enough to let me back wrap him. He also thinks it HILARIOUS to pull my freaking hair every single time I try.

So that’s it. I am a ring sling lady. I will always be the ring sling lady. I am going to order more rings and just sew myself a million ring slings until I run out of room for my fluff.