Random Thoughts From My Twitter Hiatus.

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Woke up with my back feeling like I’m 85 years old. Did I get kicked by a horse? Or a toddler?

I don’t insist on many things as a mom, but you HAVE to give me a few moments to rip the bong before grocery shopping. HAVE to.

Husband hustled like a boss last night. Treat yo’ self funds for the whole family! Aka candy at the store.

I can’t be the only one semi excited for the Independence Day sequel, right?

If I let little dude play in the front seat while I adjust his carseat, it’s like wrestling a wild bear to put him back in it when we leave.

Hubs referred to himself as “hub” last night in a txt. He’s never allowed to make fun of me for it again.

You can make fun of me all you want, but I watch enough Housewives to start a trivia gameshow about it. I’d win EVERY SINGLE ROUND.

Just spent ten minutes staring at various outfits to dress little dude in. I’m definitely not stoned. Definitely not.

Why do I have a bunch of songs from Clueless stuck in my head? Probably because I’ll love that movie forever and always.

I hope my son knows I need him probably more than he needs me. He is the light in my heart.

No person should ever deface a war memorial. And that’s coming from someone who is normally obsessed with graffiti.

I think hazelnut coffee could be the most addictive substance known to man.

Life is rad but it really does suck sometimes, ya know?

It’s not childish to hold onto hope. It’s actually very, very hard.

IITS TIME TO DAB! Yassss!

I think my body type is ‘small, but slightly squishy in some spots.’

Yep, completely engrossed with the Roots mini series.

Why is gravy like super glue on my stove. Literally tired from cleaning it.

Hummus and black pepper sea salt pretzel crisps might be in the running for my new favorite combo.

*Hears thunder outside* “Hear that, little dude?! You know what that means! NAP!”

I feel a special kind of happiness when little dude watches Winnie The Pooh. He’s my silly old bear. And Tigger, tbh.

Hubs just came home with quite possibly the most beautiful buds I’ve ever seen. Life is good.

Why do I feel zero shame in finding myself funny? I laugh at my own posts constantly but I feel like I’m the only one. Lame.

“Sorry I called you a pedophile. I hope you’ll come to my holiday party.” Only on Housewives.

Little dude now refers to every thing that rolls out as “yoga-r!” because of my yoga mat and this makes me happy. I’m glad he likes that I do it and it actually keeps me motivated!

Hazelnut coffee and hits from the bongggggg is basically the divine breakfast of champions.

Cannabis is truly an incredible gift, dude.

Hubs got little dude his own smart tv and he couldn’t be happier about it. I literally walked in on him this morning dancing to rap videos on YouTube. But at least it’s not those damn surprise eggs.

I have a crush on my husband and that’s a nice feeling. And I’ll admit it, this small break for my usual social media world hasn’t been TOO bad. Don’t tell him I said that.

Baking blueberry muffins and watching American Dad. The life of a stay at home mom is sometimes a strange one.

It has been raining at various levels of intensity for a WEEK. A freaking week!

Losing myself in bong rips and Bloodline.

I really should post videos of little dude and his imagination for everyone to enjoy.

Having no one to talk to most of the time makes my head feel like its swimming with random thoughts no one really cares about. Le sigh.

Just had a really funny moment with hubs and little dude where we were all laughing hysterically. I love those times.

Aww. People love the treasure hunt game I made for little dude. Adorable.

Sometimes you just need to sit in the sun with your bong and think nice thoughts.

Every time I look at my child, I’m so happy to be alive!

The Weirdness of Love

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Love is weird. We experience it in so many different ways, whether from whoever we choose to be with, or with our children, pets, family or friends. And because all of those versions of differ from one another, we really have all very unique ways of experiencing this very complicated human emotion. Do we really fall in love with someone? Or is it more about finding a person and mutually agreeing to accept one another for life because we as a species don’t like being alone? I’m willing to bet everyone’s definition of love is different, making it still such a strange and extraordinary thing.
It still baffles me that my husband and I have been married for five years. That may not seem like such a long time, but the way in which we began our relationship was so unconventional that there were plenty of people with plenty of doubt. When I first met him, as cheesy as this sounds, I felt like I was “meant” to know him. We were instantly inseparable, and a few months later, when he asked me if I wanted to drive to Las Vegas at 11:00 at night and get married, I didn’t even hesitate. We drove 25 hours, through a true blizzard that stopped us on the interstate multiple times, and it was then that we realized that surviving that trip was obvious proof that this was meant to be. In a black dress that was nowhere near bridal attire, I married my husband in a tiny ceremony just steps away from the Vegas courthouse.
But it hasn’t all been a fairytale. If you’d ask me if you should run off and get married to someone you technically barely know, I’d tell you to run like hell (My husband has a longstanding joke that he “tricked me”) but I WILL say that being married helped us push through issues that otherwise probably would have ended us. And helped us grow into better people, both individually and together. It turns out we are actually two very different people, but somehow we’ve made it work. He may never care about Hunter S. Thompson or like my tattoos, but we get each other in a very real way, which to me, is definitely love.

 
Do I regret not having a ‘real‘ wedding? Sometimes. When we first came back from Vegas, we told my family we were only engaged so I could have an actual wedding. I started planning, bought an incredible gown, and even sent out save the dates. But after drunkingly spilling the beans to my mom, and my husband growing tired of not telling everyone, we just let it go. I imagine that someday we’ll renew our vows so that I can wear that dress and have my dad walk me down the aisle, but I’m happy knowing that we did something seriously awesome; something most people would only dream of. And now we have a seriously cool story to tell our son.
And now, five years later, after such a non traditional marital journey, we’re actually living a VERY traditional life. My husband works and I stay home, and our roles as breadwinner and housewife are the ultimate 1950’s cliche. But I’ll never be Betty Draper, and my husband will never be Don. But my son will grow up remembering that he never had to leave his mom’s side, which brings me such a lovely sense of comfort. If I ever needed to remind myself what love is, I need to look no further than his tiny, gorgeous face.
So is there really a universal way to describe love? It’s truly a different experience for everyone, and engrained so deeply into our human psyche that I’d almost consider it part of what actually makes us human. A kiss from my dog is obviously different than one from my husband, but it’s all love, just the same. So spread it: whatever it is that you consider love. And all of us, as humans finding our place on this planet, should be willing to find it. Maybe then, as happy, loving beings, we will finally understand one another and enjoy a bright, peaceful, and open hearted world.

  

Little Moments with Little Minds

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I can probably put myself at the head of the ‘chill moms’ table. I’m the queen of “Ok, whatever!” and brush all any sort of negative connotation that one parenting technique is any better than another. But I’m always worrying about keeping my son home with me is keeping him from fully developing parts of his mind that comes with being away from me and our usual environment. And now with him starting preschool this fall (which if you follow me on social media, you know I can’t stop talking about ☺️), I’m wondering how he’ll measure up among his peers.

Until, out of nowhere day after day, he surprises the hell out of me. He’ll blurt out phrases that I had no idea he knew. Or maybe he’ll grab his favorite book and read it to me (in his own way, of course!), or sing me lyrics to whatever song we’ve been blaring in the car recently. He’ll converse with people at the store, call his Nana just to chat, or stack his blocks up so high I wonder how he could have possibly done it without super glue. 

And I feel myself beaming with pride when he asks for something and immediately thanks whoever fetches it for him, or when I do something as simple as changing the channel on the tv and he throws his arms around me with a gleeful “GREAT JOB, MOMMA! Wow!” I mean, what could I possibly be worried about? Maybe I am doing a good job. Maybe I really am figuring this parenting thing out. Maybe I’m not just a good mom is his eyes, but in anyone’s. Telling myself this makes me feel slightly better as I continue drowning in this current living hell known as toddler potty training with a tiny demon that thinks there’s no reason to use the toilet. *Sigh* I’ll get my shit together someday, right? 

Find solace in the little moments that remind you that that little human being you’re responsible for is doing just fine. They and their minds are forever growing, and don’t be afraid to pat yourself on the back for ANY small moment that makes the harder ones a little less miserable. 

That being said, if you’re listening out there, universe: tell my son that although he’ll always be “momma’s baaaaby”, she’s tired of messes that should be easily flushed away. Please and thank you. ✨ 

 

Appreciate Your Weird 👽

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One of my friends I cheered with in high school posted this adorable and hilarious story about a conversation with her young son on my facebook:  I told her that it made my night that she specifically thought to share this moment with me and how funny it was because let’s face it, kids say the most hilarious things without even realizing it. But it also made me realize something else: I am an open book. About many things. And completely unafraid to talk about things that some close minded people might call crazy. It made me smile, knowing despite how silly I might sound when I talk about aliens or conspiracies or cannabis legalization or who knows what else, there might always be someone who appreciates it enough to reach out to me when the subject comes up, and to me, that’s cool as hell.

When other moms who smoke weed reach out to me and tell me that my thoughts or advice have helped them in any tiny way, shape or form, my heart swells to 10 times its normal size. I am unapologetic when it comes to who I am, so to have someone tell me they appreciate any part of what I have to say is pure gold to me. Instead of being criticized, I’m greeted with admiration. My favorite teacher, Mr. Fulton, once told me something along the lines of my writing had a relatable quality to it that made my words feel really genuine (the best compliment I’ve ever received) and that’s always stuck with me, even when I’m just blasting my opinions about everything from the JFK assassination to what makes a good mother. Even these simple blog posts I write might mean something to someone, and that in turn, means everything to me.

For instance, this casual facebook status from last week:  Now, I always say these kinds of things on twitter. That’s where I can honestly have no fear about what others think, and where my real friends are (even those who live thousands of miles away!) because we all communicate on a truly personal level. As best as you can with 140 characters, anyway. But imagine my surprise when SO many people ‘liked’ this status, told me how funny and accurately I described myself, and that they’ve always appreciated how unique I am. Quite a confidence booster, considering the bulk of crap I usually see on facebook is people’s highly annoying prayer requests, memes about anything from Jesus to Obama to being a redneck, or highly off putting political views. I speak openly about my opinions, no matter how different from my peers here in the Bible Belt, and it makes me happy to have anyone appreciate it. I’ll never be afraid to talk about something I like, no matter how people might see it. Want to know why I sage and use crystals? Want to know if I (obviously) believe in aliens? Want to know why I think weed should be legal? Want to know who I think was responsible for Kurt Cobain’s death? Want to know if I think ghosts are real? Just ask! I’m always game for a weird conversation.

The point of sharing any of this? To encourage anyone to just ‘BE YOURSELF’. Whatever you’re into, own it. Because not only is it part of who you are, but it makes you awesome, no matter how different it may be from the next person. And remember, there’s always someone somewhere that will say “Me too!” or “Same here!”. In a world as weird and unpredictable as ours is today, those little bonds are a necessity. Own your weirdness. Own your geeky. Own your spooky. Own your magic. Whatever your story, there is always someone who will want to read it.

Infinitely Young and Ultimately Old.

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When did I get so old? Seriously? I feel like my younger years are so far behind me, yet I know I’m nowhere near what is considered to be truly ‘old’. But when I look back to just a few years ago, I wonder not only how I’m still alive, but what happened to my life AT ALL? The obvious answer is my son, who for as much love as he gives me in return, has basically sucked every ounce of younger life from me until he moves out (or so I figure). But in not such a literal sense, life really DOES take a toll on you after awhile. Being an adult is exhausting.

But then again, do I consider myself an adult? I’d like to say absolutely, but honestly: not a chance. There are so many people my age or younger that to me, are the perfect examples of how to ‘adult’ properly: a ‘big kid’ job, house, money in savings, concrete plans for the future and, last but not least, somehow manage to look like they have their shit together every single day. 

Then there’s me: who is lucky to get a shower, let alone put makeup on and pick out a good outfit, went to college but has no serious direction of my future plans, and panics when it comes time to actually face most of my responsibilities. I always tell myself we’ll eventually get it together, but I can’t help but be clouded by my own doubts. And honestly, I think this stems from always allowing myself to enjoy the fun side of life and living by not taking anything too seriously, which I don’t think is always a bad thing. Mind you, I’m always wondering if growing up means accepting defeat of some part of yourself.
But no matter how my responsibilities differ from day to day (aka mom life), from the easy ones all the way to the ‘is this what hell is?’ category, I’m still that teenage weirdo, smoking too much in a random fox racing tshirt and holes in my jeans, wearing too much eyeliner and not giving a damn about much of anything. Even if I’m now setting an example for a little miniature human, I can’t pretend to be something I’m not. I can’t pretend to have it all together, but you know what? That means I NEVER have to pretend to be a good mother, because regardless if I’m in a hoodie with a messy bun at the store surrounded by Betty Cleavers, my kid is the happiest of all. This much I definitely know for sure.

I guess the point of this is give any mother a pat on the back, no matter what age they are and what doubts they face day in and day out. Don’t find yourself feeling so old that you lose your ‘you-ness’; don’t hide whatever little version of yourself might be lurking underneath all that ‘adult’. Seems like everyone has it all together? Maybe they do, but maybe they aren’t as vivacious as you are. Maybe their glimmer is a little duller. Embrace every little thing, and your little mini thing will thank you! ☺️

  

What Makes a Stoner Mom?

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Picture this: a mother finally gets her kid to sleep. Her day has been a mix of everything from cleaning messes that seem to multiply, kissing non existent boo boo’s, creating new ways to try to satisfy a picky eater, begrudgingly smiling through mind numbing children’s television, and being otherwise poked, prodded, picked on and pushed around for the majority of her day. Finally, after five bedtime stories and an hour of fighting, she finally has a moment to herself, so she pours a glass of wine and settles down on the couch for a much deserved break.

Now replace that glass of wine with a bowl of marijuana and everyone loses their minds. BUT THAT’S ILLEGAL! DON’T YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR CHILD?! WHAT SORT OF EXAMPLE ARE YOU SETTING? YOU’RE A MOM, YOU CAN’T DO THAT! WEED IS A DRUG! Well I’m here to tell you, there’s nothing wrong with you. In fact, it’s society that’s wrong. But until the rest of the world opens their minds, moms who use marijuana will continue to get an underserved bad rep. 

What makes a stoner mom? Any number of things, really. A mom that gets high when her kid goes to bed? Sure! A mom growing pot among her tomatoes in a garden behind the house? Maybe. A housewife with the baking skills of both Betty Crocker and Tommy Chong? (you see what I just did there?!) Awesome! Or maybe,  just a normal woman, who chooses to care for herself using cannabis. There’s no reason to read too much into it, a mom who uses marijuana is not a criminal. She is not choosing drugs over her kid. She is not setting a bad example. She is medicating. She is relaxing. She is handling her shit. You think it’s better to drink than it is to smoke weed? I’ll tell you, one might be illegal (stupidly), but it’s the other that can do far more damage. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying that moms shouldn’t drink if they choose to (hello, I love me a big glass of red wine!); I’m not judging anyone’s choices. But what I am judging is anyone thinking less of a mother because she chooses to use a product of nature, (A plant, folks! A FREAKING PLANT!) but sees the mother who chooses alcohol as normal, or furthermore, superior in any way. Knock yourself down a peg or two and ask yourself: would you rather your kid drink or smoke pot? If you said drink, you need to reevaluate a few things. Or probably a lot of things, frankly. 

Until the rest of the country follows in the smart footsteps of states like Colorado and Washington, we moms who love maryjane must live in fear of not only judgement and misunderstanding, but of the unthinkable: someone unjustly deciding you’re an ‘unfit mother’. Not the woman who has no problem driving her kids to soccer after a martini or two; she’s fine. Not the mother who is basically a zombie after popping her highly addictive prescribed medication; she got it from a doctor, so she’s fine. But the mother who quietly smokes a joint in her kitchen while her child naps, then spends the day happily reading stories and relaxing with her toddler? CRIMINAL! DEGENERATE! SELFISH! How, in 2015, is anyone thinking this way? There is merit in plenty of ‘accepted’ parenting tips and techniques; sometimes the tried and true way of thinking works for a reason. But every parent finds their own way of living day to day life, for themselves and their children. And us moms (or dads, I’m not trying to leave anyone out!) are the center of it, the heart and soul of the family starts with mom, whether we like to admit it or not. This applies to all types of families, whether you’re married or single, blended, or non traditional. Whether you have one kid or seven, or you’re both working full time or one of you stays at home, moms are the keepers of the key. Who else makes sure everyone is ready when you leave the house? Who is always willing to make a snack, even if she’s already made three and hasn’t eaten yet herself? Who else knows just what to say to make a crying over nothing child suddenly smile? And every mom who gives a damn about the actual important stuff, like the love you show your kids in little ways that they’ll always secretly remember, and not that you sanctimoniously shielded them from too much tv and insisted they only eat 1000000% organic. So a mom who uses cannabis to help her with any number of things is doing just that: helping herself. If you label any mom who might smoke a little pot as a criminal, you’re putting them in a category they don’t deserve to be in. 

Unfortunately, society needs to catch up. I imagine a world for my son in which marijuana is just as normal as alcohol; regulated and readily available to adults to purchase. A time where no mother has to fear the stigma that will always stick to weed as long as we’re forced to buy it illegally in a ziplock bag. And perhaps most importantly, a world where any mother has access to the truly incredible medical benefits that come from cannabis, especially if it means saving her child from a lifetime of so many illnesses that are much better maintained with the help of some form of marijuana.

So what makes a stoner mom? Just a woman doing things her own way, which is what all mothers are just trying to do: loving our kids and doing the best we can for them. (And if I’m being honest, she’s probably a little cooler than you, at least in the eyes of her little ones 😉) It’s important that we end the stigma. Maybe mothers should be the face of marijuana, maybe we’re the ones who change the game and normalize cannabis use without fear of being severely punished. Us stoner moms are amazing at what we do; just ask our kids! 

And really, next time you find yourself with a few minutes of peace, maybe take yourself a toke or two. It just might change your life! ☺️

  

Don’t Worry, Mom’s Just Lonely…

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Words can’t express how much I love spending every day with my son. I love watching him learn, I love him napping beside me on the daily, and I love being the one who’s always there, no matter what. But people don’t always realize how incredibly lonely motherhood can be, especially in the early years. 

Let me explain: Yes, moms are never technically alone. We have social media, our significant others (if we’re lucky) and of course we have the company of our beautiful children. But you have no idea how many days go by that you’re left thinking: “Does anyone care about ME?”, “I wish I had someone to talk to”, and “Who can I talk to about [insert topic here]?” For us stay at home moms, days spent with a toddler leaves you desperately searching for someone, anyone, who understands your struggle. Toddlers don’t want to talk about adult stuff. Toddlers don’t want to discuss what happened on last night’s Real Housewives. They love you, they need you, but they don’t care about your stuff (as it should be). 

All the awesome friends you had before you became a mother are still awesome, but it’s inevitable that you will lose touch with most of them. It’s not that you or they don’t care about each other anymore, but until they themselves have a child, they won’t understand how difficult it really is to be social in the way you were before a kid took over your world. There’s certain people who will try to still reach out to you to do the things you used to, and you deeply appreciate them for trying, but eventually they’ll give up, and it’s heartbreaking. I miss my best friends SO much, but my priorities have completed shifted and I no longer am able to drop everything to go have a blast with them.

And even if there is a chance we get to escape and see our old gang, it’s still different than it was before. WAY different. Your suddenly find yourself wondering hopelessly if your child needs you, or (like me) would rather take this time for some much needed relaxation alone. But without being social, you find yourself desperately seeking interaction with anyone that’s old enough to care about fashion or wine or current events. Unfortunately, motherhood is a struggle that constantly have us balancing who we used to be and who we must become for the sake of our children. 

Sometimes I sit on the couch and think to myself, “Wow. I went to college for this” and “Geez, my life used to be pretty damn cool“. I try to remind myself daily that this is what I was meant to do, and that all of myself I sacrifice is deeply, hugely appreciated by my precious son. In no way do I wany anyone thinking I’m unhappy, because I’m not. But am I lonely? Yes

My fingers are crossed that when my son starts school, I’ll find kinship with other moms that have felt alone like me, though so many ‘mom cliques’ feel like groups of mean girls and that is my nightmare. But maybe I’ll find some other lonely moms deep in the struggle. Maybe I’ll find those friends that expect nothing of me other than what I can offer at that moment, because maybe they’ll understand how motherhood works. I have so much love for the people in my life, and I’ll always be searching for more friends to share it with: more weirdo moms, just like me. 👽❤️