Life and Times of a Mommy(:

Daddy’s Girl

There is a song that came out I don’t even know when by I honestly can’t remember. The name of it is “Daddy’s Girl”. The first time i listened to it was on cassette tape. (Yes those were still around when I was little, I’m not that young. Geez…) The chorus goes “Daddy’s girl, Daddy’s girl./I’m the center/of Daddy’s world.” It goes on but that’s the only part I can remember. I haven’t heard the song in about 8 years, but that song sticks out in my mind because that’s what I am. A Daddy’s girl.


Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my mom. It’s a hard to describe, always changing love. But between my dad and I? The adoration and love never stops. I mean, it did once or twice, but every teenager goes through that stage of hating their parents right?

I was 13 and my parents were divorcing. My dad thought it would be better for me to stay with my mom. Especially since our house had just burned down and he was living in a small apartment in a friend’s barn. I didn’t think it was a great idea. Especially after my mom remarried. I tried everything to get my dad to let me move in with him. Nothing worked. Then we moved to little rock. Three hours away from my friends, my home town, my daddy. He didn’t stop it. Que resentment, hurt, and abandonment.

I finally convince my dad to let me come home after missing a semester of school. I was grounded pretty much my entire junior year of high school. Then senior year I was pregnant. Then came the time for me to move out. It was like moving three hours away all over again. I hardly saw my dad, we fought almost non stop, and eventually we stopped talking. Recently, my step mom told me that my dad had still been there for me. Waiting for me to come to my sense, all the while making sure me and my little boy had a place to live.

Not me and my daddy. The only picture I have of us is my junior prom picture...

Not me and my daddy. The only picture I have of us is my junior prom picture…

Through everything, all the stupid stuff I did do, the fits I throw threw, my daddy and I are still best friends. He is the person I call if my car does something funny (he’s a mechanic), I accomplish something no matter how big or small, or I just have a random question (which happens a lot). Even when we do fight and he “stops talking to me”, he calls everyday to check on my boys and my husband, but I’m sure its just to hear my voice and know I’m okay. I’m 21 years old, a wife, and a mommy. But I’m still, and will always be, a Daddy’s Girl. And I wouldn’t have it any other way!



The challenge this week is to write about a moment that identifies us. One that has stuck with us. whether its from this morning or from years ago.

I’ve spent a good three days thinking about that moment. I’ve started, erased, started again, and trashed many beginnings. I’ve even gotten ha;f way though a couple. The problem is picking a moment and putting it into words. Taking a snapshot of life and describing the feelings, the emotions, the intensity of that moment. So that every body understand is. And doing it in 60 words or less.

There are so many moments in my life it’s hard to pick just one. (And you guys already know about my most defining one. The one where I almost redecorated the inside of my dad’s truck and then told him what was going on.) So, I thought I would do an overview of a few moments that stand out in my mind.

March/April, 2000. My great grandmother had just passed away, and it was up to the family to go through her things and decide what to do with them. I was seeing parts of her I never knew about.

September, 2000. I walked into a hospital room and was greeted with “hey baby!”. This was the first time in 5 years or so the my great grandmother remembered me. She passed away three days later.

February, 2001. My great grandfather left this world to join the love of his life on the most fitting of days, Valentines Day. His best friend and companion, his fog Buster, laid next to him for hours until a friend came to visit and found him.

Med-end, 2005. I laid to rest, the last thing that connected me to my beloved great grandparents: their dog Buster.

Summer, 2009. I went to summer school and met a boy. That boy was already taken so he introduced me to his friend. We started dating.

September, 2009; New Years Eve. 2009; August, 2010. The times that boy left me. (Obviously April 2010 is in there, as that’s when I had my son.)

April, 2011. In a smoke filled hooka lounge, some people randomly sat across a table from us because there was nowhere else to sit. That is the night that I met my husband. He didn’t say much, as he is shy, but we realized we knew each other when we met again on a dating website.

These are just a few of the moments that stand out in my mind. Some are obvious;y happier than others. I should have learned a lesson from some of them. In their own way, each moment defines me. Each moment tells you a little something about me. They all say something different. Some mean more than others, some hurt more than others, and some are happier than others.

Everyone would handle each of these moments in a different way. Me? I choose to use them to make me stronger. When most people would be broken down, I use them to build me up. To remind me what I have been through and what I can handle. Especially on those days that try to break me.

Moments. They can change your life and do one of two things, make you or break you. It’s all up to you.



He dug himself a whole in the ground. Was that how the saying went? He usually messed up a word or two in long sayings. All he knew was he was screwed. Out of luck. Done for.

James stared up at the ominous building. The only ting that looked remotely eye catching about the building he may or may not work in anymore is the molding stuff around the top. The fray stone held nothing interesting. The windows, nondescript rectangles of glass, looked over a bleak street.

Time to face the music, he thought. The revolving door seemed to spin faster than usual, a flood of people going in and out. The elevator, the slowest on in the entire city, was of course packed with people up until floor twelve. Two more floors. Then his fate would be decided. One more floor. Then he would come clean. James stepped out into the plush white carpet and turned to face a secretary who gave nothing away.

Dug a hole. Not in the ground, just a hole. He dug himself a hole. That was the saying.


The sentence we were to start with this week is “he dug himself a hole in the ground”. There was also a photo to reference. Go check the photo and other stories out! Don’t forget to vote Thursday and Friday!!



Sorry Guys!!

Ohmigosh guys!! Things have been so crazy lately!! I’ve gotten so many comments on my Speakeasy and Challenge Grid stories!! Keeping up with all them has kinda taken away from my whole writing. Plus Wednesday was my 21st birthday!! Woo Wooo!!!! Saturday night I went out with my hubby and found a new favorite drink!! Sex on the beach. Oh. My. Sweet Mary Mother of all things Good and Chocolaty!!! I’ve never had a more delicious drink in. My. Life!!!! Ladies. If you haven’t tried it, I strongly suggest you go to your local bar IMMEDIATELY!!!  It’s amazing. Just. Just. Words cannot describe. I had four of them babies last night!! Woo!

Anyways. I may or may not post, in great detail, about my fun time at the bars. My lovely best friend got beyond wasted and somewhat ruined it. Before then my hubby and I were just chillin’ at a restaurant and then in the front of a bar. So it was a very laid  back night until she showed up.

BUT!! There will be a new post up soon! I’m entering the Challenge and Speakeasy Grid again this week. So be on the look out for those and go check out the other submissions and vote for the best ones!!


P.S. GUYS!! I didn’t win the Speakeasy or Challenge Grid, BUUUUT! I did win a gift certificate for a doll or a quilt. I’m asking the lovely ladies at Yeah Write to give the generous gift to someone else, as I have boys and about 15,000 quilts from every grandmother on both sides of my family. They tend to get hard to store after a while…

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We Now Return You to Your Regularly Scheduled Blog

Sorry for the side note guys. I’ve been seeing Yeah Write on a couple blogs that I read and  I wanted to check it out. That was my first entry and it was on the Speakeasy grid. So. Yeah. Back to our regularly scheduled blog post. Which on pet peeves when writing.

I’ve been surfing this other site (I will leave out it’s name because once you get on that site, you never leave!!! It takes your soul and never gives it back!!!)…ahem… Right. So I’ve been surfing this other site that shall remain nameless (it’s not Facebook) and I’ve noticed a lot of spelling and grammar errors. Yes, I know it’s the internet. But I mean come on, some of the people on the site type like they haven’t even learned to speak correctly!! So here is the major thing that bugs the ever loving bajesus out of me…

Dat/Dem/Dey/Dis. Yes “dey” and “dem” are used. I understand you wanna be cool and whatnot. But those words? Not cool. They make you look like an idiot that doesn’t know how to talk. You need to go back to kindergarden and learn to speak. It’s just sad… I lose a little bit of my faith in humanity when I see these words. Just stop. Please.

There was going to be more but I honestly can’t think of any more besides the obvious your/you’re, to/too/two, there/their/they’re.. So! What grammatical error that people use on line bugs the crap out of you? 

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The picture was beautiful. Flawless perfection. Such a lovely, enchanting scene. Four, dainty eggs laying in a perfect nest in a serene, out of the way place.

Beautiful, flawless, enchanting. These weren’t words normally used to describe her, Whale, homely, garbage. Those were words used to describe her. Everyone said those things, and worse. Her parents said them. Kids at school said them. People walking down the street in her small town.

Never again. The will never say those things again. Not after today. She would show them. She would move away, reinvent herself. No one would ever think of her as the sad fat girl from high school that hid behind her camera. No. She would show them. And she wasn’t about to let anything get in her way.



This is the speakeasy challenge for Yeah Write. We were supposed to use the sentence “She wasn’t about to let anything get in her way” and a photo to reference but not write about in a short (500 words or less) fictional poem or story.  So enjoy!!



Boston Marathon

I’m not sure if everyone has heard. There was a bombing in Boston at the Boston Marathon and another device was found at the JFK library. (I’m sure that there has been/will be a thousand posts on this but just wanted to put my thoughts out there.)

I don’t understand what goes through people’s minds to do something like this. I know there are some horrible people out there but geez. This is just crazy. There are injuries and a few deaths. There are many thoughts about who did this, where the bombs were placed, etc. I’m sure of it. I’ve seen pictures of possible mailboxes that the bombs were put in. I’ve seen a few pictures floating around with a shadowed figure (not sure if it’s a man or woman) standing on a roof right next to where the bombs happened. I’m personally not posting any pictures because some of them are gory, and I’m sure everyone knows how to use Google or Bing or your search engine of choice.

There are 16 people from my area running in the marathon. As far as I’ve heard 14 of the 16 have been in contact with a local news station. They are all safe. The news station is waiting for 2 more families of the runners to get in contact with them.

My prayers go out to not only the local families but everyone who was there, injured, and the families of the people who were killed.

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The Story I Promised

Now, I promised the other day that I would tell you how I lost the pictures of the great hair catastrophe. And so here it is. Everyone gather ’round!

Once upon a time, in a far away land…. No, I’m just kidding, that beginning really won’t work. First I have to give you guys a little back story so that it all makes sense.

My mom hit 40 and kind of lost her mind. No. Actually, she lost it when I was in 4th grade and she got a tramp stamp. By 40, she was probably clinically insane. She decided that cheating on my dad with someone literally half her age, and who could have been her son, was a good idea. I figured it out and the Great Fight of Thanksgiving Day ensued. It lasted until just after Christmas when we moved out.

Not my house.

Not my house.

Back to present-ish day. (The day of the fire.)
When the house burned down, a year to the day that we moved into the house, no one was home. My mother, that dude, and I were living in a hotel. My dad, thankfully, and kind of un-thankfully, was at a friends house. It was New Years Eve and he didn’t want to by himself. Totally understandable.

In the house there was a wood stove. In the attic next to the flu there was insulation that had newspaper in it. Newspaper + super hot temperatures = what?  Class? Anyone know? That’s right! Fire! Eventually. See, when a flu (the chimney) is that close to paper it doesn’t immediately burst into flames. Instead it smolders until it comes to a large ball of paper or something more substantial than a sliver of paper. Then you get a roaring inferno.

Thankfully my dad wasn’t home because he is a super sound sleeper and the roof collapsed into my parents bedroom/bathroom and the living room. My room was virtually untouched. (Because of where the roof collapsed, my mother thought that my dad had purposely burnt the house down.)  We ended up having three different fire departments from three different cities at our house because we lived so far out. (Not that it helped, I just though it was cool.)

The pictures of the Great Hair Catastrophe along with a lot of other great pictures were water damaged beyond recovery. What was left untouched by the fire was quickly ransacked and ruined by the druggies that lived down the road.

This is kind of what what of the photo albums looked like. It wasn't this bad but you get the point.

This is kind of what what of the photo albums looked like. It wasn’t this bad but you get the point.

My dad did rebuild the house almost exactly the way it was, except he got rid of some wasted space and added about 2 feet to one side and expanded all three bedrooms. As of yesterday, the house, that I absolutely adore with all my heart and soul, is up for sale.


It Had to be Clowns…..

This post holds no extreme spoilers for the show Supernatural. Just a quick thing about the show.

So. We are on the first episode of season two. And guess what guys? Sh@! just got real. Like really real. I should probably tell you guys that I’m a fraidy cat. Like I just went to pee and tried to get the hubster to go open the bathroom door down our dark, and short, hallway. I’m the biggest fraidy cat you will ever see. Why am I watching Supernatural, you ask? Because there are hot guys!! Plus I used to be a huge horror movie fan and I’m a nerd and love all that which craft/demon crap.

So cute, yet so scared. What I look like...

So cute, yet so scared. What I look like…

So in this episode, is my greatest fear. Don’t laugh, please don’t laugh. It’s a totally legit fear. Clowns. Clowns are one of the scariest things I’ve ever come across. Other than bugs. But hey, bugs are everywhere. Kinda have to learn to deal with them. (I do have some pretty hilarious freak outs when bugs land on me.) But yeah. Clowns. Scare the ever loving…stuffing out of me.

Look, I was even nice enough to put a nice clown, instead of scary ones....

Look, I was even nice enough to put a nice clown, instead of scary ones….

So yeah. This episode is about evil clowns and scary stuffs. So now, I’m gonna be scared all freaking night…. Someone want to come cuddle me and make me scarred?!

I’m probably going to regret asking this question buuuut, what scares the bajesus outta you guys? What is your greatest fear? 

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The Great Hair Catastrophe

So I was over on GoJulesGo’s blog earlier today, and I read about her hair catastrophe. I commented about my own hair catastrophe, and she suggested I tell you, most loyal readers. And since I am totally stumped on what to write about, I thought might as well! (I totally just realized there are a ton of ands in this paragraph…)

Note: None of the pictures in this post are of me. I have no pictures of the events in which I’m about to tell you. They were all (thankfully!) burned in a fire when my house burned down. (I didn’t burn them I swear! I will tell all about the fire some other time. I assure you, you will like this story MUCH better!!)

In the third grade I decided I wanted a perm. I decided this because my mom got perms constantly. She always had curly hair. She naturally straight-as-a-board hair, which she cursed me with lovingly passed on to me. I convinced her to let me get my hair permed. Now, my mother thought tight curl perm would look good. You would think that with her getting a zillion and a half perms she would know better than to put a tight curl perm in a 10 year old’s shoulder length hair, right? WRONG!!!

My hair stylist (who was my mom’s best friend’s aunt) agreed that it would look okay. When she was done she told me to spray some stuff (I don’t really remember what it was but it was essentially watered down hairspray) and a pic (pick?), not a brush, to fix my hair. So. That’s what I did.

What it should have looked like...

What it should have looked like…

On picture day, I decided to let my friend fix my hair. Bad idea! (You can see what’s coming can’t you?) She only did one side of my hair. Now, keep in mind the the more you pic (pick?) a perm the bigger it gets. So. One side of my hair stood out a good foot from my head. The other side? Flat. Well, I mean, not totally flat, but close enough. It definitely wasn’t as big as the other side of my hair. (Alright… I might have exaggerated just a little. It was more like 6 inches. But either way, it was still MASSIVE!!! And I looked like a deranged poodle.) My hair took up basically the whole picture. Needless to say, not my best picture day…

What my hair looked like....almost.... Add a LOT more body

What my hair looked like….almost…. Add a LOT more body

What about you guys? Any crazy hair stories? Parents have your kids or their friends ever tried to fix their own/each other’s/ your hair?


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