To The Biggest Terrorist on His Birthday

I've been hanging on to this one for quite a while now...never really having the right time to post it, but then I thought "What if a fucking buss hits me and no one has the password to my account".

I thought 2 things

1. I need to designate an online custodian of all of my stuff
2. Why wait for a good time...I don't even plan my kids why in the hell would I plan a freaking blog post.

This one is for my Bonus Son...Connor.
The original terrorist and the most beautiful disaster.

Haircuts=good=not homeless looking

  I started this around your birthday but got sucked into the vortex of work so I just wrote you a FB post instead.  I'll finish this now...it has a happy birthday meaning, but I'm not rewriting it, so deal.

First I want to tell you that you scared the the holyfuckingbatshit out of me!

Here I was just starting a relationship with D and not only does he have a teen stepson the kid is a fucking NIGHTMARE!!!  (Yeah, I remember your mom and D driving around at all hours of the night.)  On top of that he's a teen...who can speak and choose to hate me.  UGH!

Oooh...and then I got the stories....all of the shit you had done in the past.  Jesus dude....just jesus.
So I had this opinion formed of you from the get-go.  I was pretty certain we wouldn't be that close if at all.  You'd be some dick head young adult that didn't like me and I wouldn't like you. I figured that we'd spend the next years chasing you around and dealing with your shit....if you chose to be a part of our life at all. I wasn't even sure I wanted you around my daughter or Jaxon at first.  I knew you'd be a constant link to your batshit crazy mother who despised me on a good day (I adore her now...but we're talking then)

It was tentative at first.  You met up with D and met the kids, but I wasn't included.  I wanted to be a real bitch and tell Derek and you to both fuck off.  That wasn't the deal you see.  You didn't get to have a relationship with MY husband and MY kids but not include me.  Then I remembered a few things.  You had him first...my husband that is.  You drove him crazy and you two didn't get along, but he was yours first.  I also remember being that kid.  The one who lived through the divorce of my parents when I was little and then the divorce of my mom and step dad when I was a young adult. I still remember what that feels like - your whole life being flipped upside down, ripped open, re-arranged and not having any say in any part of it. It was maddening because while it might not have been a perfect life it was mine and I was comfortable there.  I remember the new girlfriends and spouses.  I especially remember the really shitty one.  The one who didn't like me and made my step-dad choose.  When he didn't choose me I was heartbroken and angry.  Angry was an understatement.  Even worse I felt vulnerable, because I understood clearly after that that our relationship wasn't the same as my mom.  He didn't just HAVE to love me - either of us could walk away without reason.  I thought about that a lot in terms of you and my own daughter.  I never wanted her to feel that way.  That she was just an expendable relationship to Derek - that he could walk away.  I never wanted you to feel that way either.

So on your birthday (along with cash of course) I want you to know some things.  Things that might seem trivial now (cause at 22 and broke - $200 is way better than all the warm fuzzies in the world.  It's cool I know this...I was 22 and broke once too)

Most importantly you will NEVER be replaceable.  You are not an option or a relationship that I could ever walk away from.  You are NO different to me than any of my other 3 (you can buy booze and you don't shit your pants anymore so you actually have a leg up...but don't tell them that)  There is nothing on this planet that you could do or say to change this. If Derek dies tomorrow and I am left with no "real" connection to you I will still be your bonus mom.  I will hunt you down and check up on you and take care of you and tell you you're being a dumb-ass when you are.

Secondly, I was correct....you are a disaster.  But like I said earlier you are a beautiful disaster.  Every bad choice, and shitty plan and failed attempt has made you who you are.  It's made you humble and funny and gracious and loving.  No matter where you go or what you do don't ever lose those qualities.  You have the ability to laugh at yourself  - don't ever lose that either.  Life is a mother fucker.  It never gets easy the bills never go away.  The struggles change but generally they just get more expensive.

You will make some hideous decisions in life.  You will embarrass yourself and probably us too in the process. Don't ever let that stop you from moving forward.  I promise to tell you when you are being a moron and give you unsolicited advice even though I know you'll only take abut 2% of it. I also promise that none of that will ever change our love for you.  We will always be your home, the place you can come to if you need to get away or if you have no where else to go or if you just want family time.  You don't need to make an appointment or call.  If we're not home sit your ass down in your living room and wait...you ARE a part of this family.  This isn't limited by the amount of screw ups or how often we see you or what order we see you on for Christmas.  This just is.

You remind me so much of myself growing up.  Especially the whole tendency to take the most difficult path even though the easy one has been laid out 900 times by one of your parents...it's cool...been there and I'm still pretty much like that. It's ok to take our advice, but I get it when you don't.

Thank you for choosing to be a part of our family.  I know you could have walked away.  Thanks for taking that chance knowing I could have been a horrible bitch to deal with.  Thanks giving me someone to relive "the crazy days" with and for giving me a kid that I can hang out with and talk to and not have to monitor homework or bodily functions.  Thanks for getting my skewed sense of humor and not getting offended when I call you a dumb ass or laugh at your most recent debacle.

Lastly, I have one request for you.
You are the oldest of our kids and the one who remembers it from the beginning.  If anything ever happens to us it will be up to you to keep the little guys together and to keep our memories and stories alive, but most importantly when we are old and senile you will be in charge of setting up our nursing home.  Make sure all of those little bastards chip in because I don't wanna be holed up in Good Sam. in freaking Greeley.  I expect Boca or somewhere on the coast.  If you fuck this up I WILL haunt you....just saying.

Happy Birthday to my Biggest Terrorist  !  May you continue to grow and get better with age (and get more haircuts) but never change who you are on the inside.  That's already perfect.

I love you all the skittles in the world!

Tired of Hearing Myself Bitch

I'm sitting here at my desk eating my broccoli cheese soup (yes it's 9AM, no I don't care), browsing through Facebook &mentally commenting on all of my "friends" Facebook posts.

Because what else is there to do on a snowy Tuesday....well besides work, prepping for my weekly meeting and about 15 other things that can apparently wait until I finish this post.

Anyway, as I'm mentally commenting (not nice things) I realize it's always directed at the same person.  Every one of their posts is negative: "my life sucks, this person sucks, work sucks, the weather sucks, people are stupid, etc..."

I want to call them and scream
"Christ...go jump off a cliff and end it already if it's that bad!!!"
(Before you freak out let me assure you - this person is not depressed and I wouldn't actually say that out loud.  They just like to bitch)

That also got me thinking...isn't that exactly what I do here?  Bitch, bitch, bitch.  Bitch about my kids grades, bitch about the way they wake up, bitch about the way they travel.

While it's all true and it makes me feel better to vent, I don't want to be that person...not every day at least.  I'm glad I can find some comradery in the misery and hopefully make people laugh, but I think I owe it to my kids and everyone else to not constantly be the person that just needs to suck it up quit fucking whining.

So here's the good shit...
For starters I have a totally overachieving uterus.  I had 3 kids without any trying.  I've watched so many people in my life struggle for just one and here I am just shitting them out like pez. When I think about it like that it makes me want to retract all the other blog posts.  I should be at home making foot molds of the kids and talking about how they fart rainbows and glitter.  That would get old too though...

Even better than my overachieving uterus is my  husband... He doesn't have a nobel peace prize or an NFL contract or anything that cool, but he's pretty damn amazing.  If anyone knows me personally saying that I'm easy to handle or mild mannered isn't an understatement it's an outright fucking lie.  He handles me and the 3 kids with an astounding amount of patience and love.  Look, I know I'm not always easy to love but he manages to fake it even in the worst of times.  He's funny and smart, and knows when I need to be left alone and knows when I just need him there next to me.

I'm really not sure how I stumbled on him or why he agreed to marry me but no take-back's fucker!!!!  (Yeah, he laughs at comments like that) 
We make an amazing team, and I'm finally old enough to see the beauty in a team over the need to be independent.

 

On to the chirren... cause even though they are the reason for my constant bitching they deserve some recognition.
















Big Red

She is soft spoken and tender hearted and is well on her way to becoming amazing woman.  She's all the things that a little girl should be.
She's beautiful inside and out and doesn't even know the depth of it yet.  (God help us all when she realizes that one)
I worried about her when we had the terrorists.  She's 8 years older and I really was concerned that she might not bond with them.  I was so wrong.  (She likes them more than I do some days.)  She definitely has more patience with them than I ever do.  She's also my little gymnast...I think we've finally found a sport that suits her and she's amazing at it.  She's a tween so it's about 60/40 right now in favor of the devil tween, but that 40 is a pretty amazing young lady.

Boy Terrorist 

I don't think he has the capability to follow a single instruction to the end, but I know that when my time comes he'll be the one that will go to the ends of the earth to just be there with me.  (I know that it's totally cliche, but there really is something about a relationship of a mother and son)  He loves me best and I love every minute of it.  He's also fucking hysterical.  He says the most off the wall shit and keeps us in stitches.  He is our comedic relief when things get serious.  He's also a fierce protector of his sisters.  We literally have to send him to another room if we are dealing with the girls.  I don't know that they notice now, but one day when we're not there to protect them he'll be the anchor of our family.

Tiny Terrorist
She clearly thinks here father is the only person on earth and I just show up to make dinner and feed everyone. 

But she's damn cute so it's forgiven.  I have no idea what she's saying most of the time.  (Thank god Jaxon translates for me) She's got a temper to rival mine and it's hysterical...I know one day it won't be but for now she's our baby and we all just let it go.  She eats like she's in a contest  - there's nothing the kid won't put in her mouth.  (Except peaches...none of the kids like peaches.  It's just weird)  She's also pretty funny.   While boy terrorist actually says comical things tiny terrorist is just funny to watch.  Whether it's doing the eyebrow thing or shaking her butt she's just enormously cute.

Well there you have it...I don't hate my kids or my life.  I love them all immeasurably and am thankful for all I have.

Now back to bitching about my kids.... ;)

We’re One IROC Short of Our Own White Trash Reality how

So I figure in my first post I’ll introduce you to the characters. (Mainly so you can comprehend how insane we all are, but also so I can send this out to all included and get their permission to upload pics and use their name when telling embarrassing stories about them)

Here’s the rundown of the family:

There’s me; Ashley.  I’m a full time working mom.  I work in construction and have an affinity towards 4 letter words.  I really fucking like them.  (see what I did there?  That was a warning.  If you’re offended now you should just move on to another blog because that was child’s play)  I’m an avid smoker who quit 16 hours ago – this lead to the blogging.  I’ve got to do something instead of smoking.  Might as well share the  insanity, right?

Next up is Dad.  Dad is also in construction and has worked out of town for the majority of the babies’ lives.  Dad just took a position at the office and no longer travels for work…we’re all waiting for him to flip his shit now that he’s home full time.  I have to admit that he’s doing really well which is disappointing.  See, he’s the one who wanted all these kids and I told him he only wanted them because he didn’t have to live with them.  If he doesn’t freak out soon it’ll mean I was wrong and he’s just better at kids than I am.  (Which cannot happen because I am never wrong and I grew those suckers.  I have to be better at them by default.)

On to the kids…

Our oldest is 21.  I didn’t actually grow him.  I got him through marriage, but 80% of the time he’s my favorite. We call him “the really-big”.  His escapades are….um…interesting but he can buy liquor on his way to the house so we let him slide sometimes.

The big is 11 and she’s a Tween (god help us all).    She expects to be treated like and adult but can’t remember to brush her own teeth…this is a daily battle.

The "Big"

Lastly we have the babies.  

"the Terrorists"

The babies aren't twins but in an effort to streamline things we treat them as such.  There’s a 3 year old boy and a 2 year old girl…we call them the terrorists.  We have not had a moments peace and quiet in the house in 3 years solely due to their existence.  We also have laughed more in the past 3 years than ever before.  (Everyone bitches about the terrorists, but in reality they are completely loved and spoiled beyond belief.)

And you can’t have a WT reality show without Ex’s!!!

Here’s what really makes people raise their eyebrows…We’re friends with both of our exes and actually hang out with each other quite often (for actual fun, not shared-kid related things)

There’s really-big’s mom.  We’ll call her Momgie.  While we were sworn enemies for quite some time the tides have turned and she’s actually a fucking riot.  Apparently the hubby has both good taste and a type, because it’s kind of like hanging out with a taller me.  We drink wine, say inappropriate things about strangers and our kids… really what more could I ask for.

Lastly, there’s the big’s dad.  We also get along well.  Some days he’s kind of like my 5th kid but it’s all forgiven because he keeps Popsicles in his freezer for the terrorists.  The terrorists ADORE him.  I’m just waiting for both of them to be fully potty trained (the terrorist not big’s dad).  Once they finally are he’s getting all 3 on his weekly visits, not just the tween.  Mommy will take a vacation when and where she can get it.

See, add an Iroc and a few mullets and we’d have our own show….maybe I should contact TLC…..