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‘the keeper’

Sometimes when we read someone else’s words they hit you deep down in your guts directly to your soul, these words did exactly that.  They paused me.  They made me remember my job, “the keeper

I had bracelets made for both my kids, I wear my sons, one day I’ll give it to him but for know I am the keeper of the message “ain’t no mountain high, no valley low” the song I played them so much during a very hard time in our lives, the divorce.  We are years passed that now, however, old wounds die hard and long sometimes so it is just a reminder that through it all, good and bad, they could always count on their keeper

It certainly is the little things that we know to keep this lil sailboat  sailing like a Viking battleship ​

One of our silly videos to fully embraced our motto ​



“I am the keeper.

I am the keeper of schedules. Of practices, games, and lessons. Of projects, parties, and dinners. Of appointments and homework assignments. 

I am the keeper of information. Who needs food 5 minutes before a meltdown occurs and who needs space when he gets angry. Whether there are clean clothes, whether bills are paid, and whether we are out of milk. 

I am the keeper of solutions. Of bandaids and sewing kits and snacks in my purse. But also of emotional balms and metaphorical security blankets. 

I am the keeper of preferences. Of likes and dislikes. Of nightly rituals and food aversions. 

I am the keeper of reminders. To be kind, to pick up their trash, to do their dishes, to do their homework, to hold open doors and write thank you notes.

I am the keeper of rituals and memories. Of pumpkin patches and Easter egg hunts. I am the taker of pictures, the collector of special ornaments, and the writer of letters. 

I am the keeper of emotional security. The repository of comfort, the navigator of bad moods, the holder of secrets and the soother of fears. 

I am the keeper of the peace. The mediator of fights, the arbiter of disputes, the facilitator of language, the handler of differing personalities.

I am the keeper of worry. Theirs and my own. 

I am the keeper of the good and the bad, the big and the small, the beautiful and the hard. 

Most of the time, the weight of these things I keep resembles the upper elements on the periodic table – lighter than air, buoying me with a sense of purpose.

But sometimes the weight of the things I keep pulls me down below the surface until I am kicking and struggling to break the surface and gasp for breath.

Because these things I keep are constantly flickering in the back of my brain, waiting to be forgotten. They scatter my thoughts and keep me awake long past my bedtime.

Because all these things I keep are invisible, intangible. They go unnoticed and unacknowledged until they are missed. They are not graded or peer reviewed or ruled on by a court. And sometimes they are taken for granted. 

My husband and my boys are kind and generous and they love me hard. And this is by far the greatest job I have ever had. But sometimes being the Keeper is exhausting. Because you feel like you’re doing it alone. 

So to all of you who are keepers, I see you. 

I know the weight of the things you keep. 

I know the invisible work you do, which doesn’t come with a pay check or sick leave, is what makes the world go round. 

I see you.

And I salute you.”

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Credit: Lucky Orange Pants

Speaking to a man …


Bear with me, hear me out once here. I had this conversation with a man.  Men won’t ever get this.

You aren’t a woman so you’ll never know what happens to us. Never. Period.

I have been the “winner winner chicken dinner” of comments because of my own body since I was about 13  since I wear now, and wore them a size D cup, no choice in the matter. None. God gave it to me, that which others pay for.

Your girls are little aren’t they? My father about killed men because of the looks I got. He’d of had a heart attack if he’d heard the comments, the grabs of my ass because it’s not all fat but rather small compared to my chest, the accidental malicious grabs or push up against me in an extra long hug, and so on. The fact remains this shit happens ALL THE TIME. For that, I’d march.

These little girls who probably hadn’t ever been exposed to the words pussy, besides thinking of a pussy cat, literally, well they just got exposed to sexual innuendos at age three or four

The other girl maybe now understands what the word fuck means instead of just a bad word mommy or daddy yells when mad. Does she even know what fascist means??

Although I do not agree with these women introducing these sexual innuendos or vocabulary, kids don’t even have the capability of understanding, I do understand why these women marched. Some women get off on the looks and grabs and even the words, but some women don’t and they shouldn’t have to get used to hearing them like I did.

The lady with her legs open that’s just none sense and not even useful. Two separate things melded together that have no business together
“Those guys that act in the manner you described is unacceptable! They were not raised right in my opinion”
But it is the way of the world, unfortunately. What was kinda sly and kinda hidden, social media is out in your face constantly & made more acceptable in some twisted way. It’s actually opened a door to pictures of men’s dicks as surprises when you open a message, like it’s a pretty Van Gough painting.

Now just take it up a level to the coverage about Trump, video & audio plastered everywhere saying what he said–I’d quote but I forget all he said exactly -grab her pussy is all I need to remember really because what it does is show two things:

1  His character is the same of the men who said ‘You  weren’t raised right”  and now that improperly raised main is the biggest role model for boys, young and old

2. Now we have even reached further than social media with the placing a woman as just a object of sex, object of manhandling, of a means to get your jollys off whenever you say so bc the leader of the free world does it where he pleases, when he pleases.
For my daughter who is now experiencing all of this like I did and do, hell yes I’d march! The reality is neither he (trump) nor many, many men in general get just THIS part of the protest, even after it is over
“I understand that, but where have the protesters been the last eight years? This behavior isn’t new and it unfortunately isn’t going to end any time soon.”

They were probably at home just like Trump was. Eight years ago, two very very different men ran for office. Two very different men who had a very different character than what we see now. Eight years ago social media and media in general had not run entirely amuck like it is now, you’ve got to admit that one.

Women had it this right time
Reality got shoved in our faces loud and clear, and at this level, AGAIN by a president ….(yes I mentioned bole Bill)
Plus,  add in all the other shit he said about women thru the whole campaign so  unapologetically but rather boastful, question becomes why not march if you’ve, in fact, had it all together with this boohockey.

Now, with the times, and all the other shit out there, you get a massive march

But the little girls with posters saying what that says, you just victimized little girls who haven’t a clue yet.  These little girls marching with their moms saying “No more!” is one thing,  versus the signs these girls held

I saw one that said “SO WHAT if I’m a girl” also. That should stay.
“But you’d think after Bill used Monica’s vagina for a humidor women would of been up in arms.”
They were people.  People forget.

AND even if they weren’t up in arms, they knew it was wrong.

Sounds like the pot to the kettle, however, he was already IN office. Opinions about Trump have grown the past year, many in negative ways, there’s a shit ton of it out there. The fact that it seems he really doesn’t care, half ass apologizes and blatantly twists shit, that’s another reason to question his integrity and character of being a president.

I’m sorry, his cumulative character thru the process of a campaign is far worse than any we have seen. Look at his behavior of childish tantrums, you can’t really debunk that one

He’s the whole package of negativity in his character

Shits, giggles and milkshakes 

What I know: Usually a bad sign, “what I know”  that  I wish I didn’t 

Some people create their own storms then are surprised and get upset by the rain

Okay so, I don’t say much but when I do…
Erks me that this is such a negative thought, I’m too positive for this crapola.  It serves no purpose and I’m just plain tired of it because it doesn’t ever change. You can’t change people or make them choose to do right versus wrong. Yea, yea, I know. What i can do is point to the absurdity of the whole situation 

This whole idea of Disneyland Dad erks the shit out of me. It’s wrong on so many ways on many different levels but the level I’ll refer to here is this,

Dropping well over $1400 in one day doesn’t truly mean shit because when a kid or their mother actually could of used money to pay for, let’s say a lawyer, they get a “how dare you even!” response, 

Better yet, they are looking for just simple emotional support during a time of a child’s turmoil,  that you actually play a big ass role in, and just not showing up, even in a flipping phone call because it’s a bother, a bad time, simply not convenient, that shit is more than screwed up. Kids and adults get sick of begging for involvement from anyone and when it does come,  in the form of negativity, cockiness and the vantage point of “all knowing” “about me” who wants to be subjected to that over and over and over…

 If others make an effort only to get a “only talk to me when you want something” attitude, instead of blaming everyone else, why not make the effort your damn self instead of having to be sought after ? Why not answer the first time instead of just ignoring or having the audacity to act as if it’s an inconvenient time when it’s actually an emergency!  

It’s not a date that decidec what to make a phone call showing an interest. “Gonna wait a couple days so he/she doesn’t think I’m desperate or totally into them”

This doesn’t work with family. It definitely doesn’t work for children if any age.  It’s terrible this is something they are accustomed to and expect nothing more  It creates a whole lot of hurt and anger.  Why keep trying when that’s what you get in return??   

Why not be more responsible in the first place? Approaching 50 one would think you’d learn how to do that. Oh but wait, that’s too much work. That would be something that interferes with life as you know it. Well why not remember other parts that you claim to own more often? 
It’s like a slap in the face is what it is and you know, that’s just messed up. Can’t stand up and decide to join in later like that and expect anything else than exactly what is going on when the starting point is so much hurt and anger. That was left unattended way the hell too long.  There are only more piles of hurt and anger layered upon one another to a point where you can’t begin to break it apart once a year.  It becomes the opposite of the “hand sandwich” that represents “all together now….”

This is a massive Jenga game. Layer upon layer,  pain and hurt, pain and hurt, all cemented together and attempting to bash it to smitherines with an ice pick.   Picking at it is just about the worst thing to do.  

No one can help them, least of all me, they are worn and tired of it.  The game isn’t worth another layer.  Not to them anyway. Not that game. Not again 

As a parent who has seen it all, lived it, put the pieces back together, or tried because there are always some critical pieces of foundation missing, trust. I cannot do that.  I am unable to request them to trust when the history, the facts here scream RUN  As a concioejcious parent, how in the hell do I expect something from them when the situation is this sort of ordeal??    Knoeing  all the things that upset them are valid.  I don’t own that.  I was a completely different kind of victim here.  When a child finds damaging characters information  on their own because they are smart, information that is absurdly disgusting,  all it does is  prove and stamp validation that  nothing has changed.  It actually got worse. Not possible to unsee many things, not possible to take actions away.  Pretending they aren’t there is NOT actually possible.  They are there in BOLD PRINT flashing when a face is seen.  

So the facade continues,                                           lack of real communication contributes,   nothing is even remotely fixed, or attempted, not with the pretending all of it didn’t happen going on 

It’s not a game of make believe, it never was.   This is their life 

So the end is near again, what happens next?  Same ole same ole, new damn Jenga level mortared in snug and tight  

A situation  where you are walk away having a sense you’ve been taken for all you’ll give and then some. That’s a true definition of guilt.   Sadness that it means nothing, the presence is more like toleration till it’s over like that one uncle Fred who has no clue who you are each year but he’s feeding you your favorite candy so hell, why not?   For fucks sake, you are not interested in indulging ALL of it?  so why get any of it comfortably? 

No one has the 3 years old’s comprehension here. They were well above that AT age 3. Only being involved when it’s convenient for yourself only proves the value and worth in which you place upon them. Essentially not being around during all the important stuff so many times, not stepping up for it at all, well,  you then are going to feel the value and worth or the lack there of, in return. A big ass piece of humble pie jammed into a two hour visit. A terrible learned behavior. Perhaps deserving in their eyes though because that’s all they get in the first place. “Here’s the money limit now go..” which they will most likely push past that limit, like every kid does. The pure lack of presence + no authority/respect  as a parent will not equal  shits, giggles and milkshakes. That is a recipe for making a Humpfy Dumpty falling off the damn wall, which once again you won’t be present nor willing  to put the time in and effort to attempt to put the pieces back together again. 

This only plays into the whole Disneyland dad mentality. Kids see it all. They use it, whether they should or not isn’t the question here. 

Big things happen, both good and bad, a parent is suppose to be the people you can count on, suppose to be there no matter what, through the very thick and the oh so very thin.

A co-parent, married or divorced, is supposed to be the one you can count on for the good and bad also, all for the sake of the children because they are in fact YOUR children.  It’s never just money.  It’s bad when one party uses money as a reason to hold back visitation however it’s absolutely reprehensible that the other uses it as a reason to just be an asshole by not caring enough to help a child in serious distress, who in gods name leaves a child out to dry like that and then throws the parent who stood up to do anything and everything she can to help  the child out of a situation that could possibly haunt him forever ?   

Demanding respect “just cuz you are the parent” doesn’t cut it. Being daddy warbucks just proves the point of the guilt you feel because you chose this path and then are irritated and even sad you are on sunk in quicksand and there ain’t one rope in sight. 

Like I said, this is not make believe, how can the parent not see that the child saw the door slammed in their other parents face?  That door hit the child harder,  Trust in that.  The aftertaste is still in their mouths. It’s titled “didn’t care enough to….” 

“Some people create their own storms then are surprised and get upset by the rain”

It’s awful I looked up Disneyland dad and found this AFTER I wrote this jumbled mess 

The words in that link 

Why their kids feel cheated sticks out like the sorest thumb of all
MY WORST FEARS  👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻‼️‼️

But I’m bit a coward, I’ll stand with hot glue sifting through the pieces singing Zippity Doo Da

  Why? Because f^%# you that’s why 

An Open Letter To Donald Trump From Some Angry Women.

…you’ve said it all darlin hats off! Now y’all go vote

Drifting Through


Dear Mr. Trump… can I call you Mr. Trump? Is that ok? I want you to be happy, that’s very important to me.

Before I get started, let me say this letter isn’t from all women. The Trumpettes surely won’t approve of this message. But this is from most women.

We see right through you. We have all known you at some point. Your ways are not unfamiliar to us. We see through you because we’ve been dealing with you our whole lives.

We heard you call women pigs. And disgusting. And stupid. And bimbos.

We watched as you called a former Ms. Universe “Ms. Piggy” and then spent four days continuing to insult her.

We see your weakness. Your lust for attention at any cost, your need to denigrate women. We see all of it. And we’re mad.

Yes. We’re mad. And fired up. And here’s the thing about us……

View original post 1,086 more words

Pretty, pretty  please!!! 


even my younger brother knew to say “hand”

I actually had the mortal shit scared out of me today, I have no other words to even explain how scared I was!
Weird shit happens to me & if today is any indication that is not going to change so I am going to have to figure out how to embrace this shit

A mothers worst nightmare! 

We were simply taking Thing 1, Thing 2 & her friend  to see a flick.  As we were walking in a little child walked right out the door of the movie theater between Thing 2  her friend and I. We were standing waiting for parents to walk out the door…. waiting…no parents as the little toddler gets closer to the parking lot…an old woman pushing a walker yelled as I found myself running to scoop this child up as he hit the pavement of the parking lot directly in front of a car that was moving…Good God it scared me to death!!

I did scoop him up and now I’m holding a wiggly kid but not a hurt one thank god.  Now, what do I do??  As I get the manager and start searching for this little babies parents.  All thru the movie theater,  bowling alley and game room: “show me mommy and daddy honey”  I must of said that 100 times,  no parents. Try to hand the kid off to the two managers of the movie theater, he would have none of it and started to cry.  “Alright little buddy, show me where mommy is” I started again.

The managers called mall Security.  Einstein there thought I was reporting my child found and asked if he had ID when he finally figured out what I was saying.   ID!????  The kid is one maybe 2 if we are lucky here, Sherlock, or hadn’t  you noticed??  I knew not to give the kid to that fool but told that dip to call the police, I found a child I did not lose one!!  As the shift supervisors & managers of the theater walked with me and this little boy, he finally went to them and they took him around all the movie theaters again while waiting for the police. They took some info from me in the event  the police needed me for some reason and after the movie I asked if they found his parents, the guy on duty had absolutely no clue what I was talking about.  No one did.  I am saying a prayer the police found them there wasn’t much else I could do about it but I can say I at least found him and stopped him from getting run over and hurt.  What scared me more than Paul Blart Mall Cop was the fact I had that kid in my arms for a half hour maybe, I saw no frantic mommy, daddy no nana, papa, no auntie or uncle, no one frantically screaming they lost a little boy.

Keep your children in the stroller, the buggy or grocery cart, please please pretty please do not let these babies who are just barely walking and not talking yet, out of your sight.  This  little fella couldn’t  tell anyone anything helpful at all.   He’s not meant to yet, he was just a toddler!!  Where the hell was the adult who should of been watching this baby…no one knew.  That’s some scary shit!







A year, feels like 2 minutes ago….

It’s been a year, seems like it’s been 15 years some days  

Feels like just moments ago on others, 

There are days where I cannot escape the hole that is in my heart,  

it feels like I’m drowning in that hole gasping for my last breath because it’s sadness that is all around me drowning me 

 I think giving in to it is the only way to stop it at times 

Then I think of all the talks we had before you left 

Then I remember how you showed me what to do when my mom was going through these exact emotions when granny died 

The tenderness, kindness and love you showed her when she felt like she was drowning. The space you gave her to sit and maybe cry, throw a rock at a window or scream to the top of her lungs because she was just so sad. When she reamerged from these moments, and you knew it was absolutely necessary she felt your love right then and there

In one sweeping moment, the light of your life was scooped up, she was completely mortified at first at what the hell was going on but quickly that fear left and the glint in her eye returned as she heard “MY SWEETIE! It’s gonna be alright Mar!” as you about squashed her to death and then you both just giggled as you gave her “noogees” (not a clue how to spell that grammar natzi’s so hush it) and then you laid a big fat giant kiss on her and then we heard a “Jack Pitsenbarger that hurt!” referring to noogees, or maybe a “JACKSON!” all frantic trying to get out of the clutch you had on her.

So many times I’d seen this when she was upset, not mad but upset. You were quite good at the whole scoop and squash with all of us. That protection factor you had was always there to stop the awful feelings from us using the scoop and squash move. The laughter you brought to us so quickly, my god it worked so well, you taught us well, so please know I took it and twisted it with my own and pray it gives my own children that feeling it’s gonna be okay feeling.

It’s hard some days to get to the funny part of these stories, sometimes it is just plain sadness there and all I can do is let the rest of the story play out when it can and be grateful the times it does. Mom calls it “Life on life’s terms”. I hate hearing that in the midst of the sadness because it feels like a crock of shit really. In these moments I have zero desire to hear the logic behind it all.  

Today I will take my time, cry, throw a rock or scream to the top of my lungs but I will always remember to try and let the rest of the story play, to find the tenderness, kindness and love and not be so damn hard on my own sadness.

To say I miss you, that crap doesn’t even come close to how I feel, but then there I go remembering those talks… Take your moments, reemerge head up, shoulders back little girl, remember you are the one those kids depend on to help them through these shitty days, act like you got some sense now and go out and do what you gotta do. As I envision that talk, I see you pointing your finger at me, at the “do what you gotta do” part…. 

So, here I go doing just that 

But you can

Last night my kids got their creative on (by force in a way, I said “here, paint it”) So they did.  

It is telling what they come up with, there goes the psychologist in me…but that is a different story for another day 

Sometimes I wonder where their creativity comes from, and my own as well.  It’s sporadic in me and can strike at any moment, night or day. It cannot tell time and won’t ever at this point in my life. It is what makes me a vampire at times, which isn’t necessarily bad but gets tough for my old ass these days.  Lack of normal sleep prolly isn’t good for the brain and it’s definitely not good for the lovely bags under my eyes. Guess they tell a tale too. Nice 😂  I don’t let myself unleash this creativity very often either.  

“Why would you do that? As the song says “let it go”.  

Time, money, people interfering  by just getting in the way  cuz you ain’t looking at them ( x’s are famous for that)  
My sister has the creativity affliction I have, only stronger and less sporadic, it is constant. Quite amazing the things she sees in the simplest of things, transformation is her specialty!   We always said, “there she goes…” as we sat back and watched.   She doesn’t sleep well either.  

So, every now and then, you come across something you lost or misplaced accidentally. I found this paint brush and started my brain a thinkin. Oh Lordy, now there go… 

Where did this mad, can’t tell time creativity gene come from and I answer my own wonderment and question about creativity. When I needed a brush, Momma & Daddio always had some hanging around from back in the day when they painted, or my Granny did too. We all gots the affliction! Teehee!

Last night when the kids were done,   I turned to Troy and said, “now it’s your turn”. He answered saying “I can’t do that”. 

But you can. I am looking  at it at this exact moment.

 I am looking around my  living room, I see many things my dad created from wood.  A cabinet, a bench, a chest even a frame.  Things I have created are before my eyes, my kids, my momma and my sister’s creations as well.  Yes, even  Troy’s too.  

I can’t do that stuff

 But you can

So you should

All that, because I found the paint brush my dad gave me!  Hmm….this wall looks like it should be a chalkboard with words all over it saying things such as:





All that from finding a paintbrush …