Some of the greatest people I know have fur.

Someone told me having a pet is like selling your soul to the devil.

They give this amazing happiness and unconditional love but then the devil comes knocking for them.  Some of the hardest moments in my life have been saying goodbye to a furry family member.

This time is no different.   Saying goodbye has never been my forté.  It appears as of now, we will have to say goodbye to Charlie, our cat.  He is a fighter.  He has fought and won a lot of battles but this infection seems to be winning the war.


Charlie hiding under the christmas tree this year

He survived being dumped off by his previous owners.  He survived, lord knows how long, outside before he found us.  He survived a broken leg that was so bad, the vet told to put him to sleep.  He survived daily maulings from twin boys and the love from a 76 pound American Bulldog.


The 76 pound American Bulldog

I’m afraid this is the end of the road though.  He is one of my best friends.  I can trust him with every secret, every fear, and every silly idea I have.  He has never told a soul.  He has never judged me.  We’ve never been in a fight, except that one time when I wouldn’t give him anymore treats.  He’s always been there to comfort me when I’ve been sad and lay with me when I’ve been lonely.  He’s the best to talk to because he listens so well.  Granted he’s hard to have a conversation with because he’s a cat but still.  Who really needs a two way conversation?


Over the next 24 hours we will have to make one of the hardest decisions pet owners have to make.  In honor of Charlie and all of our furry family members taken too soon,  hug your cat, dog, hamster, iguana, bird, fish a little tighter tonight.  Tell them how much you love them and maybe give them an extra treat…for Charlie.

My friends are better than your friends


Congratulations!   Tommy and Julie. 

10 reasons my friends are better then you friends.


Two of the absolute best men in the world.

10.  We fight.  We yell.  We call each other names.  We always make up.

9.  We know what to say and when to say it.   Granted this doesn’t mean we say it, but we know we should.


I love this one and it will get framed.

8.  We know exactly which buttons to push.  And we push them.  Every single chance we get.

7.  We accept that no one is perfect and we are all going to make mistakes.


This one I’m not going to explain.

6.  We celebrate successes and morn failures as if they were our own.

5.  The stories.  All the stories.  Embarrassing, funny, sweet, sad, embarrassing.  Did I mention embarrassing?


Jazz hands!

4.  The door is always open.

3.  Trust.  The best part of friendships, at least the ones I have, friends have seen you at your worst yet still love you.  Afterall, they have a choice unlike blood.  They hold the secrets, they share your fears, and will still be there when you call. 


The groom and some dude I don’t know.

2.   Again, this might just be my friends but, they protect.  They do their absolute best to protect me from myself, from dangers, and from situations that may hurt.  Because I’m stubborn as a mule, I usually do what I want, when I want…but they try.  And I love them for it.

1.  No matter how much time passes between seeing each other,  or even talking to each other, we pick up exactly where we left off.  There is no anger, no jealousy, no awkward silence.  Literally just laughter and love. 


I am truly blessed to know some of the most amazing people in the world.   To call you my friends just doesn’t seem right.  You are my family.  And I love you all.


My phone was stolen at some point and there some pretty amazing pictures were taken.


Once the pretty dress came off, it became pure mayhem.


When we were still coherent.

Happy Father’s Day

First, happy new year.  Life has been crazy, as you might imagine.  Raising twin boys and a man child is exhausting especially during the holidays.   I was asleep before the ball dropped and it was amazing.

Forgive me while I deviate from my normal sarcastic posts about crank and spank.  Today I need some therapy.   Some will argue I need therapy everyday.  And they aren’t wrong.  I’m looking in your direction, Jason. 

I don’t give many chances to people.  I don’t tolerate being let down, being used, or being lied to.  I don’t give second chances to anyone who has hurt me.  I don’t like those things called feelings.  They make me feel things and make me cry.   You could call this a defense mechanism in order to keep the peace inside my skull. 

I didn’t grow up in an overly affectionate family.  We cried at funerals but never weddings.  We never made a scene and didn’t share our feelings; good or bad.  We kept secrets like a good Irish family and never talked about the hard things.  

This way of growing up, served me well.  There was a lot of turmoil within my household and stuffing it down and away was beneficial for everyone involved.  

Until I was in my earlier twenties.   Everything came to blows.  And my head exploded.  I was angry, depressed, lashing out at the wrong people, acting a fool.  I walked around with this monkey on my back because I didn’t know how to talk about it, I didn’t want to “upset” anyone.  It was easier to stuff that shit way back down where it came from then face it head on.

So I told you I wanted nothing to do with you. I told myself I didn’t need anyone, especially a man who let me down so many times before.  I shut  down anyone who brought it up.  The beauty of living in a small town, everyone knows you but you.  My friends knew to stay clear of the subject.  My family knew to not bring it up.  I was living in my own little world where none of this exsisted.   To believe it exsisted, would have made me vulnerable.   And if there was anything I learned, it was vulnerability was a weakness. 

But somewhere way down there, deep within my soul, I wished you came.  I wished wanted to know me.   I wished that I had a connection with you.  But I stuffed it away.  Eventually,  I worked through all the anger.   Eventually, I let it all go.  It is, what it is and I am a better person for going through all of it.   I wouldn’t be the person I am today without it all.

Then as quickly as I made the decision to let it all go, you walked back into my head.  I put my guard up and was ready to fight.  Against all my instincts,  I allowed myself think could we?  Could this happen?  Wonder what he’s like?  Wonder if he thinks about me?  What will we talk about?  How does he feel about all of this?

But then, you didn’t call.  So now I’m back to those feelings.  The only difference now is that once I close this door, I will never open it again.  I will go back to the person was…happy, secure, and funny as hell.  I gave you the in.  The in to my life, and so far you haven’t taken it.  I am impatient person.  I am a doer.  I don’t understand people who don’t go after what they want.  In my head, if you want something bad enough, you will find a way, otherwise you will make excuses. 

I will not accept excuses.  After 36 years there isn’t an excuse short of you dying that would be appropriate.

I truly hope you call.  If you don’t,  then that’s your loss.

The tenth year


Ten long/short years have flown by.  We have weathered many storms and we’ve seen so many beautiful sunrises.  We have spent so much time and energy worrying about the present, questioning our past, and discussing our future.  But…there has been so much more time spent living in the moment, laughing at and loving each other.

This is incredibly difficult for me to write.  Words cannot describe the love I have for you.  There isn’t a word that can sum up my feelings for you, our marriage, and our family.  You have been my rock, my punching bag, my sanity through some of the hardest times in my life.  You keep me grounded when I float too high in the sky, yet let me soar to the clouds with my dreams.  You are my soulmate.  You are my end all and be all. 

Ten years.  Ten years ago when we met, I was lost.  I was on a sinking ship and I didn’t know how to swim.  You walked into my life and taught me how.  You taught me that life can be whatever you want to make it.  No dream is stupid.  Every idea is worth exploring.    Don’t ever stop dreaming Jason.  You are amazing.  You have a child like innocence,  which admittedly,  drives me insane.  You love with your entire heart.  No matter how many times someone steps on it, you keep loving.  I’m still learning to do that.  It comes much harder for me. 

In ten years we’ve done a lot of things, traveled to a lot of places, and created a ton of memories.   But my fondest memories will always be you and I sitting and laughing.  Laughing at each other, laughing at other people,  just laughing.  (We are funny people.  Like really funny.)

As we embark on the next years, I can only hope that we continue to love, laugh and support each other.  I will always be by your side.  I promise you that no matter what, I will love you til my last breath. 

Happy anniversary,  Jason. 

Love always


P.s.  I had no idea I stick my tongue out so much in pictures.

Dear crank and spank

One day I might not be here when you read this blog.  One day you might stumble upon this as you are researching your thesis on sarcastic mothers and the damage they do to young children.   One day you might ask why do these people know me?  Know my brother?  And keep calling me the terrible.  One day you might wonder which one of you is crank and which one is spank.  (I’m not telling you).  Anyway, how ever you stumble upon this blog, there are some things I need you to know.  I’m writing this close to your third birthday.  In three long short years, you have grown leaps and bounds. 

You are and will always be my greatest accomplishment.   I will always be proud of you.  I will always be in your corner.  I promise to listen when you talk.  To offer advice, to teach you, to love you more everyday.

I promise when you need me, I will be there.  I will run, swim, crawl to you.  I will always answer your phone calls.  Day or night, no matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing, I will answer.

I promise to be your biggest fan.  I will be there cheering you on.  Whether it is baseball or ballet, I’ll be beaming with pride. 

I promise to tell you when you’ve fucked up.  I promise to help you make it right.

I promise not to be your best friend, rather, your mother.  A mother who has loved you since before you were born.  A mother who has rules and structure.   Not so much that you feel smothered, but just enough to make you a functional adult.

I promise to let you be you.  Whatever that may be.  All I ask is that you have tolerance to people not like you.

I have been talking to you since before you were born.  I have loved you since the moment you were conceived. (Don’t think about that for too long).  I have been proud to be your mother since the day you were born.  I love you with every single fiber of my being. 

Happy third birthday crank and spank.  The best three years of my life.


Adult-like and shit


I have moments of deep thought.  Granted not often, and it usually is short lived.  Today while sitting in traffic on my way home from work, one of these rare moments hit me.  I’m not sure what provoked it; maybe the song on the radio, maybe the sun, that we haven’t seen here in south Jersey for at least three months, maybe it was just the quiet in my head.  For the first time in a while, I wasn’t thinking about diapers, vomit, house cleaning, or schedules.  I wasn’t worried about time, (rather the lack of), milestones, birthdays, spring cleaning, or money.  It was the first time in many months that I just was.  I was there, driving along, sitting in traffic, with not a thought in my head.  Then I started thinking about my friends, and family.  About how different our lives are now then what we ever dreamed they would be.

Some of us are married, some not.  Some divorced, some just starting their married life journey.  Some of us have babies, some of us have teenagers.  That is beyond scary.  We have real jobs, with real desks and real computers.  (Except me.  I don’t.).  Some of us are deployed in lands that I could never imagine visiting.  With real dangers, and real guns.  Some of us are struggling with our demons, some getting help and some wasting away.  Some of us are in therapy because we are all royally fucked on one level or another.  We have houses, and cars, and plants we haven’t killed yet.  We talk about things like mortgages and Roth IRAs.  We worry about our parents and their aging.  We worry if we will ever have it together.  A good weekend starts on Friday night (not Thursday, day) and ends Sunday evening (not sometime Tuesday). We are perfectly happy to curl up with a glass of wine (not a bottle of Miller Lite) and watch a movie or read a book. 

Is this growing up?  Is this what being adult is?  Because I seem to remember, being eighteen and knowing everything about, well, everything.  I was an adult.  I was grown, damn it.  No one was going to tell me what to do or how to live.  I had that shit.  I was young, smart, and fun.  Looking back, maybe I wasn’t so grown.  Maybe I wasn’t really an adult.  Maybe I needed a lot more life before I could say that. 

I dyed my hair for fun.  Now I dye my hair to cover the ridiculous amount of gray hairs. (I blame this exclusively on the terrible). My boobs are getting dangerously close to my belly button and I think I used to have an ass.  It seems to have flattened out horizontal.  But luckily I still have acne.  Yay for my face!  Please note the sarcasm there.  I wax my lip and chin…What the hell?!?  And I make weird noises after I’ve sat too long. 

This wasn’t a part of the deal.  This wasn’t supposed to be part of the deal.  No one told me about this.  No one told me I would turn into my mother and my mother would turn into my grandmother.  Truthfully, I wouldn’t have believed them anyway. 

So the question I still have is, am I really an adult?  It certainly doesn’t feel like I’ve got this shit.  I still wait for the day that it hits me that I’m a certified adult with my big girl panties on.  In fact, I knew more back then, than I do know.  A whole lot more was black and white, whereas now, all I see is gray.


Love, life, and the pursuit of our happiness

Sometimes things happen to put life in a little bit of perspective.  Sometimes life reminds you that this is life.  Try not to kill yourself trying to live it.  With the daily routines of chasing my tail, my kids, and money, I forget to stop and take a breath.  To just stop and look at my surroundings.  To see how truly lucky I am.

Jason collaspsed on Friday.  He dropped on the cold hard ground getting out of my car.  When I realized what was happening, our life together flashed before my eyes.  All the special moments that I cherish so deeply, that are forever etched into my brain, just flashed before me.  He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t tell me if he was in pain.  I screamed.  I screamed until someone came.  I screamed as if I was being murdered.  People came.  People came running.  From everywhere.  I called 911. I couldn’t tell them where we were, what town we were in, what place of business we were in front of.

Then I looked over my shoulder.  My children.  Oh shit! My boys.  I’m scaring them.  They are crying, there is a lady trying to console them.  Side note: she gave them a permanent marker…thanks.  I pull it together.  I reach in the car.  I tell them everything is ok.  I lied threw my teeth.  Alex asked if daddy was okay.  I lied again, yes sweet pea, he’s okay.  But they can see the fear in my eyes.  They start to cry again.  The ambulance loads Jason up and I’m standing there.  Still.  Just staring at the lights.  I love him too much to lose him now.  I climb into the car, stop shaking and start driving.

The longest car ride of my life was actually only about five miles.  We get there just behind the ambulance.  I can’t find parking.  I’m cursing.  The boys are asking if I’m okay.  I’m okay boys, we valet park.  I run into to e.r. with a boy in each arm.  Their heads bouncing like bobble heads.  Mommy, you okay? Mommy? Yes! Mommy is okay.  They see him before I do.  Daddy!!!! Daddy?  You okay? Jason is begging them to unstrap him.  (He hit his head when he collapsed).  They wheel him into a room and I see him.  He’s alive.  He’s okay.  He really is okay.  Maybe not okay, but he’s talking, moving and laughing.  After hours in the e.r. they can’t decide what happened in the parking lot so they admit him.  I am relieved.  They need to figure this out.

But they don’t figure it out.  Could it have been a seizure, yes.  Could it have been a result of low blood sugar, yes.  Could it have been the result of stress, not eating breakfast, and not getting good sleep, yes. What they do know is it’s not his brain, and it’s not his heart. 

Here’s what I know, I can’t navigate this thing called life without him.  Our children need him.  All those stupid things that pissed me off earlier this month…mean nothing.  They mean nothing in the bigger picture.  There is always going to be shit.  Some kind of shit in our lives.  The key is not to let the shit over shadow the good, the great, and truly amazing that happen everyday. 


This is one of my favorite pictures of Alex and Jason.


These are the memories that flashed before my eyes.


I love you Jason.  Don’t you ever do that again…dick.