I need a margarita…

Me: *holds door open for elderly gentleman*

Elderly Gentleman: “I’m not fucking crippled!”

….. and that’s sort of how my day is going.

The end.

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It’s not supposed to be like this…

“I am going to lose it..”

“I can’t keep doing this…”

“It’s not supposed to be like this…”

“What kind of mother feels this way?”


I think at LEAST one of those thoughts a day. More specifically in the morning shuffle as I’m trying to get the kids to school and myself to work. Those thoughts then manifest into “I’m going insane.” “Why can’t SOMETHING just be simple?” “How in the hell am I supposed to do this for the rest of my life.”

Picture this: Here I am, hiding in the laundry room and it’s not even 7 AM. I just screamed at my son because once again he is being a jerk and yelling at his brother. So I screamed at him, to express that him screaming is not okay or acceptable in this house. Totally logical right?

“I need a fucking break” I murmur in my head. But this is not something you can rejuvenate from in an hour. This isn’t a “girls night” (what’s that btw?) fix. This isn’t even a week long bahama vacation type of thing, although I wouldn’t turn that down for nothin’. This is a “create a life you don’t have to escape from” deal. Which some or most days, just isn’t in the cards



I have this taped on my fridge. Just in case I forget.

So I’m in the laundry room, trying to prevent an all out break down because this is about much more than a simple sibling tiff, and my little beast walks in and says,

“Momma, can I have some juice?”

“Just give me a minute bud. I’ll get it, okay?”

“Okay… Oh, Momma?”

Irritated again…”Yes?”

“You have boo-tuh-full hair.”

And JUST. LIKE.THAT my heart just combusts. Like the Grinch in that one scene, it breaks the cage around itself. I am brought back down from this reality I have created in my head that my house is an insane asylum and I’m this angry bitch of a mother. I am reminded that I have two sweet, gorgeous little boys who understand that even Momma’s need a reminder sometimes that

It is exhausting. I’m exhausted. LIFE is exhausting. I’m so drained some days that just typing this, saying it “out loud” makes my eyes well up and that is not an easy feat. Is this how we are supposed to feel? How can a mother feel this way about her own kids? That’s wrong. No mother feels like that. You’re alone in that. You’re a horrible mom.

Except you’re not. You’re not any of those things. Feelings don’t make you who you are. Actions might, but even then you aren’t your worst mistakes. You’re more than that. There is a million people out there thinking the same shit. If you are one that has never thought or felt any of this, well… come to my house and we can fix that.

You have to find things that you can control, to bring a little joy and humor into those moments when you’re locking yourself in the laundry room.  Write, find a hobby, mix a drink, buy some shoes, go workout, vent to some friends, hell even look in the humor section of Pinterest. I’ve done all of these things. My preference is the writing, shoes, and of course mixing a drink if my site title didn’t give it away. But that’s half the reason I started this blog. Something about putting all your shit on paper, gets rid of it… for a moment at least.


Once you’e done that, and drug yourself out of your funk. Get to work. Start creating that life that you don’t need to hide from. You will always have these moments, but the key is how often and how long those moments last. Take control of your life. Make an actual plan. You got this and for what it’s worth, I’m with you each step of the way. Me and my whiskey.

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The sign of my people…


I’m just going to keep it short and sweet today… We will survive this Monday #survivors.

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National Coffee Day and the Seventh Circle of Hell

Apparently I’m going to have two Monday’s this week. See yesterday’s post for reference…

Morning’s in my house make me want to become a real deal, alcoholic. Full on committed. None of this a beer after a long day at work bullshit. Like full on, drink out of a square bottle because the round ones roll away, alcoholic. .

My children. Those precious little beings that destroyed my vagina and sanity, are terrorists Monday- Friday at precisely 7:15 AM when it’s time to leave for school and work. It’s clock work. It’s as guaranteed as a bird shitting on my recently washed car. This morning for instance, my five year old was in mass hysteria because I put his english muffin on the table. Yep. Because how dare I remove it from the toaster, slather it in peanut butter, and cut into cute little shapes for him? He doesn’t LIKE his spot at the table any more. He NEEDS his brother’s spot at the table.

I lit the whole fucking table on fire.

Then my bestie, like she can see my mental white flag being waved in the air, text me that it was national coffee day. She has always been my voice of reason. But me.. .being the negative nancy that I am, responded with this…


Because again, I am committed to this whole alcoholic thing. I’m no quitter.

Also, I’m not currently drinking coffee SO while normally this would be a whole lot like celebrating my birthday, now it’s like it was created just to mock me. I don’t miss coffee, since I have my spark, but I miss the IDEA of coffee.

I’m holding fast. I will not give in. Not to the terrorists or to the nectar of the gods.

Instead I will go home, lock myself in a closet, pour some whiskey in my sippy cup and self soothe.. Also.. I’ll look into getting a new table.

Because after all, I have standards people.

Update to 7 mintues later: I gave in. I have no standards. Zero fucks will be given. This triple shot americano with sugar free coconut is sex in my mouth. YOLO. (for the record, I don’t seriously use the word YOLO except to mock anyone who thinks they can say it and be taken seriously… sort of like flat billed hats).


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Heaven and Ice

Just look at it…LOOK. AT. IT.



Put it in and around my mouth.

It’s summer in a glass, on this cold Fall day. I’m already in denial.

It started innocently enough. I just felt like some iced tea. Then I had some peach mixer and obviously peach ice tea sounded way better than regular ice tea. Then I had some Honey Jack too.. and well, alcohol always sounds better than non-alcoholic. So I decided we needed to have a little orgy of delight right here in this little glass.

This is what you need…


Look I even made it pretty for you guys. Believe me, ANY time I’m in the kitchen it’s a drunken fucking tornado. So don’t take this effort lightely.

Recipe below!


Peach Mixer (or any flavor if you want to switch it up)
Home Brewed Sweet Tea- If you don’t have a recipe, just ask.
Fresh Lemon
Honey Jack


FIll glass 3/4 way full with icel
Do two-three good globs of Peach Mixer depending on your taste
Squeeze of fresh lemon wedge
2-3 ounces of Honey jack (or 4-5 in my case)
FIll the rest with sweet tea.
Give a good stir and try not to stroke out from the goodness.

Quick, light, and refreshing! That’s what she said… never.

Enjoy kids!


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