The baby is napping so Im rushed with this one. I’ll correct any grammar later.


Two days into my nanny gig and everything is going great. No issues with the baby, and no difficulty picking up the toddler from school. Usually at least one of the parents is home by 4, so I’m not alone the last hour of my day. The 4 year old is very independent they tell me, and he does a lot of things like getting dressed, going to the bathroom and everything on his own.

Last night I noticed him getting upset when I had to split my attention between the baby and playing with him. And then we had to come downstairs to eat the snack his father prepared for us..Samosas (which were delicious) and he wanted milk and not water. His father asked him to drink a little of the water first and then he could have some milk, and the tantrum began. I’m talking like…super sonic screeching. after a brief timeout and a talking to, dad gave in and gave him some milk. He’s a lucky kid. My grandma would have had the backhand ready and waiting on that second screech. She’d have been standing over me like “do that again. I DARE you”. WHEW.

The second tantrum was over not wanting to go to the bathroom when his mom asked him to. More screeching. I let the parents handle him and got ready to leave. As I got in my car, my headache hit full force. I was seeing double, so I closed my eyes and sat in silence for a second. It was rough. But still, kids are better than office work. I notice my fitbit is DEFINITELY recording more steps.

This morning when I got to their house, the toddler was being uncooperative again about getting ready for school. At one point, his mother was asking him to brush his teeth so I stepped in and offered to go with him. Turns out, he wanted me to do it for him. Then it hit me. With the new baby, he doesn’t get BABIED anymore. I know he’s a super independent kid, but he’s also only 4, and he knows I’m with the baby all day, and I think he’s a little jealous. So I brushed his teeth for him, and all of a sudden he was in a MUCH better mood. Got his shoes on, grabbed his stuff, and they went out the door. I am going to try to make sure the baby is good and content so I can play w him one on one today and see if that makes him a little more cooperative tonight.

Day 3 might just be the day we settle into a normal routine ūüôā





I try so hard to like the Holidays. I really do. I decorate my tree, my best friend’s family tree, and my desk. I SAY I’m in the spirit. I listen to Christmas music and sing along, horribly off-key. Then Christmas day rolls around and I get that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. I dutifully call all my grandparents and awkwardly, haltingly talk to them until we both hang up with sighs of relief. I head to my mom’s and deal with the tension in her house. When the day is done, I’m disappointed and relieved all at the same time. As the oldest child of four, I hope every year that the holidays will be as I envision them. They never are.

I scroll through my news feed and I see all these happy family photos. Big groups of people coming together; presents all over. I think of my stepdad holed up in the dark bedroom laying there alone, because he doesn’t want to come out and deal with my middle sister. Our hushed voices so we don’t annoy him. Sitting down to dinner and eating, and then watching a movie…not too high on the volume, and 1/3 of us falling asleep. Nobody talking and laughing. No “remember when”s. ¬†No laughing children anywhere around happy to see their aunt. The one tiny child present doesn’t remember me. He cries when I pick him up. My youngest sister blaming me as the reason for not coming, because I’m too bossy, and showing my mom the texts and wondering what it was, exactly, that I said. Nobody present understands.

I am painfully aware of the dangers of comparing your situation to the highlights of someone else’s life on Facebook. That all isn’t as it seems in most of the posts from your friends. In the smiling pictures. But sometimes it’s just really hard. And I wonder, why can’t we fake it to make it like these people? We don’t even TRY.

So the night after Christmas,

When all through the house,

Not a creature is stirring,

I lay my head down and let myself ugly-cry into the pillow until I can’t cry anymore and I have a headache. Then I take some Advil PM, blow my nose and carry on.

I’ve decided to quit my desk job with benefits and salary and paid time off to be a full time nanny for 8 months. I will be breaking even on income, and losing on holiday and paid time off, but happiness is worth more than money to me.¬†My friends and co workers think I’m insane. I’d say maybe 1% of my friends are supportive. The rest are worried about me having insurance. If this is the year I suddenly get cancer it’s because a tumor formed while I was stressing about planning my wedding. Just so everyone knows. But seriously, I hope nothing big happens health-wise.


I checked Obamacare marketplace and it’s actually cheaper for me to pay penalty than to pay for insurance monthly that I never use. Literally. I never go to doctor. I have my yearly lady-parts examination, but I’ve only had one partner for 2 years and I have the IUD, so really, I think I can skip one year. It’ll be okay, I’m sure of it. Consider this my one moment of optimism in my usually pessimistic outlook.


I am pretty excited about this change. I have all these plans that I may or may not get to. Such as : Do yoga when the baby naps. Stay on my feet and get 15,000 steps recorded on my fitbit in a day instead of failing to make 10,000 like I do currently with my desk job. Continue to bike 4  miles daily.

This is good. I’m going to have panicky moments in the next two weeks where I have a mini-existential crisis and question all my decision making capabilities ever, but I think it’s going to be a good thing for me. A positive thing. I am going to be the best nanny these kids have ever seen!


The End of the World (warning..generalized opinions may offend someone. Im not sorry)

On the church of Scientology down the street from my apartment, there’s this banner that says “give yourself the knowledge of YOU”. ¬†Reading it, it kinda scared me for a second because with all the selfies and “this is so me” memes.. I realized we are a generation of Tom Cruises. I officially banned myself from taking any sort of “selfies” two years ago and never looked back. But this isn’t about me.

Everyone is so focused on knowing themselves.. Even rappers only talk about themselves in songs anymore.¬†I can’t even listen to the rap station in my city anymore. I’m so tired of hearing about “bitches” and how many cars a guy has or how much a guy makes and I’m like “what about me? I can speak in a full sentence and not make up words sounding like gibberish and I don’t have “bitches and bentleys”!
Didn’t rappers use to rap about social injustice or inequality or issues??? I swear they did. I need people like that to come back. Common, Mos Def…they rapped about real things. Kendrick kiiiinda does. If you read between some of his lines. But big Sean and Tyga and lil Wayne need to fall off the planet. And Drake. He can go too. There’s that mission to Mars… Instead of moms leaving their kids, just send “Young Money”.

Speaking of the entire concept of money…while we do have to accept it.. It’s bullshit. With the right ink and paper and government clearance, you can PRINT bills. We are trillions of dollars in debt and people are starving and kids are sold into sex trafficking rings because of a piece of PAPER assigned a number value. It almost makes me not want to have kids at all.

I’m currently stuck in baby fever and arguing with myself about it. Like do I really want to subject my progeny to the horrors of this self obsessed society… To watch them be shaped into selfish people I can’t bear to watch, but must love anyway because I TRIED to teach them the right ways to do things? I just don’t know. And it really is a delusional thought that you yourself as a parent can entirely SHAPE another human being into being better than the general population. There are too many outside variables. Unless you do the whole homeschool, hermit thing which presents a whole other set of issues. Then you run the risk of your kids become serial killers or cult leaders. No thanks.

But then if you don’t TRY to help further society with your kids who hopefully will turn out intelligent and enlightened like yourself, aren’t you being selfish? Then it comes full circle back to yourself not being a productive member of society. You’re just selfish like everyone else. Just another Tom Cruise.

Society will implode. Elephants or cats will evolve and rule in our place, I swear.

<end rant>


A link to my first ever attempt at writing a book. I don’t know how I feel about it yet. Sometimes my imagination runs wild, and I write it down…and then it suddenly ends and I have to wait til I feel inspired again. Apparently my muse is only part-time. She or he has their own life to live and when they have time for me, I will write some more.

wedding bells

I’ve been on Pinterest…Pinning my life away about a wedding that isn’t even in the proposal stage yet. Of course I, who ordered/told my high school sweetheart in 9th grade that he’d be taking me to both junior and senior prom, am pretty SURE it’s going to happen. Prom happened. So why not? I’m sure my current/not high school sweetheart will be proposing at some time in the next 365 days.

So, I’ve been planning it. I didn’t do the whole plan-my-wedding-since-I-was-5 thing. I wasn’t that girly and romantic, and I’m still not. I’m practical. What I really want is a Justice of the Peace ceremony and then a themed party, but his parents would be upset. So now we get on the subject of expectations.

I have two options for walking me down the aisle: my grandfather/adopted father who really doesn’t like me much but would be insulted if I didn’t at least ASK him because he can be a sentimental fool when he wants to put on a show. He lives 800 miles away and probably couldn’t afford to come to the wedding anyway, so here’s hoping.

My stepfather, who is very unemotional and uncomfortable with emotion at all, but who has helped me out with picking out a car, with routine maintenance on my cars, and helped me move multiple times to different apartments. He’s like the silent, gruff version of a doting father. He’d be my first choice, but my grandpa raised me.

Expectations are frustrating. Torn between hurting people, it becomes really difficult and part of the reason I wanted a JP wedding. There’s also the question of my Maid of Honor. My childhood best friend would be SO upset if she wasn’t maid of honor, but she is married with a kid and really doesn’t have the TIME for all the duties of MoH from 800 miles away. My obvious choice would be the girl here in Nashville that has been my best friend since freshman year of college. We even work together now. It just makes sense.

So to conclude…My practical side and my mediator, keep-the-peace-coward side are at war. I am unable to decide, so I’m going to keep pinning wedding ideas (Halloween, btw) and thank my lucky stars he hasn’t even proposed yet.

Reader’s Anonymous-A lesson on anger management after reading a really bad ‘book’


I’ve been reading a lot of shitty books lately. Anything you can download for free on your¬†iBooks or Kindle IS gonna be shit, but this is a special brand of shit.

50 Shades Fan-fiction full of “humongous, pulsing” cocks and breathless ‘OHHHH [insert character name/nickname]’

Unrealistic, simpering plots with really lame dialogue written by a teenager and names that sound like you just thought up a random ‘z’ or ‘v’ to throw in there because those are “exotic” letters or some shit. You do realize your characters probably went to public school in their fictional lives and had to spell that shit in kindergarten, don’t you?

Disorganized chapters jumping from character to 10 too many other characters with not even a MICROSCOPIC amount of George RR Martin’s talent.

I find myself feeling annoyed that I wasted my time, but I had to find out how it ENDED so I do the skim-reading thing and hit highlights.

Truly though…are ANY good books being written anymore? Why on earth did anyone ever allow self-publishing? Yes…put your stories in a blog. PRACTICE. But don’t offer it up to unsuspecting reading fanatics who really just want to lose themselves in a story line to escape real life for a second. We get really upset when it’s so bad that we are still very present in the real world. I can say “we” because I have a friend who agrees with me whole-heartedly on this subject. Someone needs to tell amazon and Apple to stop allowing this nonsense.

Head Buried in the Sand

It’s been a while since I’ve written, but I haven’t had much to say. I have been operating under the ostrich method. I think about the things I want, and then I look at the obstacles and redirect my brain VERY quickly. Burying one’s head in the sand, aka keeping my nose to the every day grind and routine allows me to feel equally okay and useless at the same time. I don’t think I’m having an existential crisis, necessarily, but feeling very tiny and unimportant in the world is definitely the case. Why couldn’t I do something MEANINGFUL with my life?

Today, someone was telling us about a girl who traveled to India for the purpose of educating the people on autism and how they can help their children instead of hiding them away in shame. I looked at my friends and asked, “Why wasn’t I smarter back when I was planning out college and career? Why was the scope of my imagination limited to a verterinary degree I knew I wouldn’t pursue the minute I job-shadowed a vet for my senior project. I got woozy watching him perform a routine spay for fuck’s sake. Now, the only things I’m good at are giving very good relationship/dating/sex advice, data analysis stuff, and knowing a ton about animal behavior and plants. It’s too late to go back to school. I already have tons of student loan debt killing my credit score!”

I think, though, maybe a MEANINGFUL life isn’t defined by what other people have done with their lives. We like to compare and contrast, thanks to social media and the access to knowledge of random strangers’ lives that you never would have known if not for a click of a button. Could it be, to live a meaningful life, all you have to do is make a positive impact on someone else’s life? Possibly? Or am I telling myself that so I can keep going strong with my head in the sand?

Over and over and over

Well, here we go again. The all consuming guilt that comes with not bailing my sister out of the mess she put herself in. She lives in her now-ex-boyfriend slash baby daddy’s parents’ house with her 6 yr old and her 3 month old. She’s working for a call center from home and claims she’s still in training so she cant step away from her computer and paying the ex’s sister in law a hundred bucks a week to take care of the baby. Then she tells me if he cries too long the girl she’s paying will tell him to shut the fuck up. Who tells a 3 month old to shut the fuck up? If I was her and someone told my baby to shut the fuck up I’d be coming out of that room like a wrecking ball. I’d be Miley Cryus-ing up in that bitch.¬†


Anyway, he’s already moved out and in with one of his loser guy friends and is seeing a new girl and my sister and her two kids are stuck in a tiny back bedroom where there’s only 2 twin beds and a play pen at his parents’ house. Awkward much? One of the twin beds has a 6 feet of clothes and plastic storage drawers piled onto it, the other doesn’t have sheets and she shares that one with the 6 yr old and the baby’s play pen/sleeper is piled high with shit and he sleeps in his infant car seat which is so hot and tight for his little fat self that he has cradle cap constantly, which is gross.¬†


She’s supposed to be saving to move out of there and then I hear she gave her ex $500 to get a car so he’d stop bullying her into giving him her car keys and then she paid $200 to get their cell phones turned on because he got a new phone and charged it to the account and they couldn’t pay the bill so sprint cut them off.




So today we are going over options for her to get out of there asap because his parents want her out and refuse to help with their own grandchild and she casually mentions that my bf and I have a spare room. It’s actually a computer slash weight bench room and it’s tiny. We have maybe 900 sq feet. A two bedroom 1 bath apartment in a quadriplex unit is kinda cramped. He barely was okay with adding the kitten I rescued; he’s not going to be okay with adding my 250lb sister and her two children.¬†


But of course she thinks I’m going to swoop in and rescue her because I always do. Always. And as soon as I do, and then she gets back on x dating site and finds the next loser and all of a sudden I’ve done nothing for her and why wont I let him stay the night I’m such a bitch. My bf has vetoed the rescue and since his name is on the lease and not mine, I can’t argue and secretly I’m grateful for that, but I am also stressed out and fearing for the situation she has her children in. I don’t understand how she isn’t working her ASS off to get the hell out of there and she keeps throwing away her money just to pacify an overgrown toddler.¬†


The logical decision would be to let the 6 yr old stay with her father to avoid complicating the custody agreement they have and take the 3 month old to our mom’s and set up a landline and work and save up money because she wouldn’t have to pay rent. She would just have to get off her lazy ass and help out around the house. She wont do that because she claims she cant live without her 6 yr old daughter for more than a few days and that the father wouldn’t give her back. If he wanted to take my niece away, he would have done it 6 times over by now, because my sister has proven herself unfit so many times by moving my niece from place to place 4 times in one year, changing schools 4 times in one year, it’s absolutely ridiculous.¬†


So she expects me to rescue her. Again. And I can’t. I feel bad, but I’m secretly glad I can’t. Does that make me a shitty person?

What is this consciousness? When I die, will I wake up in another consciousness? Are we just souls going through a revolving door? I won’t know I’ve lived another life.

All we know is who we are right now. No before or after. We get 60 yrs of memory if we are lucky, and then we blink into nothing or we end up in another life. This is why death scares so many. We don’t want to not exist. We think our existence is so important that we cannot imagine its ending. But what if another just begins again?

Maybe I’m just rambling in my half inebriated state. I am afraid of death. Of not existing.
So there you have it. I’m gonna be 80, screaming and kicking when death comes knocking.