Meeting Baby J and other happenings leaving 2023.

Y'all, 2023 is coming to its end and we closed out the year (or, we're in the process of closing it) with getting to meet the newest little Glisson member. He was born on Tuesday 12/26 and when I tell you he is about the best natured baby I've ever met in my entire life, I ain't playing.

Meet- Jensen. JT. Baby J. Glissonbug. 

Whichever we choose to call him at whatever point (we've had over nine months to come up with these nicknames), he just coos and scrunches his little nose up. It's so f*cking adorable. 

Dev and I were so damn excited to meet the little guy. 

We weren't sure how the hospitals work when you deliver these days (after Covid everything changed, when his sister gave birth last time, they barely let her husband in the room), so we didn't go there (we didn't want to kick any parents or such out to visit), but yesterday they had been home for about eighteen hours and invited us over... so over we went!

It was amazing to meet the human Mace has been growing this whole time and getting to see them interact and Trav handle his first baby, it was just an incredible thing to be apart of. Dev and I even got a little teary-eyed on a few occasions and honestly, I didn't know we were that age yet but I'm good with it.

When I was younger, being around babies and kids got on my nerves. On so many levels it was insane and I felt like such an asshole at all times. I know that's harsh and mean, but it's accurate. I thought they were too loud and too wild and honestly, just too much. However, as I've gotten older, I've come to the realization that I do like babies and kids... I just needed to age into my patience for them.

Don't get me wrong, we're still very much on the "we're not having kids" train because we do not want any of our own, but it is nice that we can spend time with the ones we love and enjoy that time and watch them grow into full ass people. It's fun and exciting and emotional. 

Being Uncle Devon and Aunt Katie is a wild ride and we wear those badges with love, honor, and pride.

Aside from meeting Baby J, we have a busy weekend ahead of us leading out of 2023.

Dev and I have some WRTTMM errands to run and then tomorrow we're helping out my cousin, Bonehead, with his move. It's going to be a whole lot but hopefully, we'll get it at a good spot for him and make life a little less chaotic.

After that, the plans are kind of up in the air. We don't have anything "planned" for Sunday but we usually tend to spend it running our store errands or chilling with each other at the house. Depending on how long we're helping Bonehead tomorrow, I may see if we can just stop at the store and at Patsy's (I need to see if she'll go with us to have my phone switched over) on the way home so we don't even have to leave our house at all Sunday or Monday.

Like I said, Sunday is still debatable. Monday, however? We're staying home and not leaving our house AT ALL for anything. Not debatable. We literally started off 2023 getting brutally attacked by a hobo and frankly, we ain't trying to relive that life. We learned our lesson and will be spending our time inside with each other and our pups and ignoring the outside world.

Just the way we like it. Besides, we got Dev a bunch of new tattoo ink that I know he's itching to try out, so we'll probably be spending some Saturday evening, Sunday, and Monday time doing that. Hanging out, together, while my hubby makes me a human art gallery (that's how I feel and I love it!).

Christmas was... interesting and eye-opening. Definitely learned some things. Not anything bad or upsetting concerning my direct family, but certainly some things that throw change into action for the future.

Here's to all of us. We're two days away from 2024, and we're all literally just hoping for the best. It's been a rough year for everyone (it's been a shit year for us but I know it is not exclusive to us), but we're all trying to pull through and do our best.

And until then, I'll be busy getting hubby and pup snuggles. 

The ramblings of a cold little gremlin. *it's snaining outside*

It's that time of year again where everybody feels the need to be extra. Extra blessings (braggadocio), extra tidings (passive-aggressiveness), extra presents (audacity), extra extra extra. I really shouldn't be as cynical as what I am and yet, HERE WE ARE. You know, I wouldn't be this way if people didn't make me this way. But, I digress.

Christmas is in one week and would you like to know what I've done for the holiday season? Not a damn thing. Ok, that's not entirely true... I did make cards and get them sent out (literally all done on the 15th) and we put up our tree yesterday.

Other than that? Zilch.

It's been an off year so we decided to take an off year. Usually this time of year we're running around like crazy people. D's making jerky and I'm baking treats and we run everything down to the last minute of getting everything done and shipped out. This year? Nope. With D being off work with his health and me having very little to no will to actually roll out of bed in the mornings, we decided this year just wasn't it. So, we didn't.

And you know what? While it feels a little off and there are certain moments that you feel guilt, the majority of the feeling I get is... oh well. And I know that sounds shitty, but I don't mean for it to. I just happen to like the feeling that it's holiday time and there are no expectations. We're not killing ourselves trying to finish baking and cooking. We're not running crazy trying to remember if we got everybody gifts. We're not going into monumental amounts of debt to show people hey we're here. We're just doing our thing and have no set plans.

Sparkles ear is still swelled up. Poor little guy has had this issue for weeks now and while I would like to feel like it's better, I don't really know. It looks like the swelling is going down to me but I'm also not a doctor. I'm just a gal doing what I do and trying to be a good wife and (pup)mom over here. We still have him on round the clock meds and he's still a little turd about all of it (anybody ever tells you pitties aren't stubborn is a damn liar), but for the most part, I think we're doing all we can. He's still stubborn, I'm still a worry-wart, and D probably needs a vacation from us all.

We've had a little craziness at work lately. The last few weeks have been hectic. Between year end and the holidays, letting people (one person) go and people wanting the final of everything, things have been round the clock consistent. We're not doing a big holiday party at work this year like we usually do (and I for one am NOT sad about it), but we are doing a little something. 

I have to get payroll done early so we can get all that lined up because we are having a little meeting on Friday. Everybody is supposed to be at the shop around noon and we'll have pizza (that I preordered last week), soda, beer (no worries, all employees are 21+), and some treats. Then they'll hand out checks and the little treat bags Dani and I made last Friday (she had a cute little idea and who doesn't love a good treat bag?) and everybody can be on their merry way.

Festive and efficient. Just the way I like it.

Other than that, we've been going through the things in our shed/garage. It may not sound like much, but let me tell you, it is quite literally my entire life for the first almost thirty years thrown into boxes and shoved into a bin to deal with another day. The only reason it hasn't been done before now is because I quite literally find the task to be so overwhelming. It's my life, my Momma's life, and some of my Grammy's life. All shoved into boxes and bins and totes and honestly, at times it all makes me want to cry. It's alot. To deal with, to carry, to go through, just all of it. We've made pretty good progress and I'm pretty happy with the results so far. While it is overwhelming and at times wants to take me to my knees, I carry on and eventually, I'll be through it all.

The amount of tattoos I now have is a little insane to me. I currently have four healing (two small, one medium and one large) and I don't see myself stopping anytime soon. I used to think I would hate being covered in tattoos. It was always a bit of a "no no" and was kind of engrained into me that it was something I just wasn't going to do. And then one day I realized I didn't do it for all reasons someone else had that I didn't believe in the first place... and then the cycle started. 

Personally, I love feeling like a doodle pad. It may sound strange but I almost feel like a piece of art in a gallery. Not a fancy and/or expensive gallery... perhaps not even a gallery at all... yeah, I more feel like a graffiti wall that people adore. Maybe people don't adore me but the art on my skin makes me feel like how I think people feel looking at the art they love. And that's a good feeling to me. I like looking down and seeing pieces of me and reminders of my life told through a story on my skin. It's fun and addicting and beautiful. D's currently reworking a moon piece on my back (he completed my thigh angular fish last night) and I was up until one this morning getting the work done and then all cleaned up. It's nowhere near finished but it's looking beautiful.

D finally got his new/permanent plate. He's going through the adjustment period of getting a new one (you wouldn't think it's a thing but it truly is a hell of a learning curve) and he's still sore from the bone/tooth fragments that are working their way out, but for the most part, he's doing real good. While it's been a hell of a process, he says he would do it all over again to not be in the pain he was in, and honestly, that means it was all worth it to me.

And yeah, that's where we are. We're waiting for the holidays, and getting tattoos, and spoiling our pups while watching Sparkles ear, and unpacking all of my childhood trauma. It's been a good time. Also, I've successfully avoided round the clock Mariah Carey this season, so we're taking the f*cking win.

You ever just been not that all into it? I mean, you were but now not so much? Happened to me.

It's official... I had four days off work... just staying in my house in pajamas... drinking coffee... sitting on a heating pad round the clock... cuddling with pups... getting snuggles from the husband... watching The Machine and laughing my ass off... receiving various and random tattoos... and now I'm back at work.

Don't get me wrong, I love my job (most days), but the effort it took for my ass to crawl out of my demon hole and present myself to the world bright and early this morning was ridiculous. Seriously, you would have thought I was Grandpa Joe... without the golden ticket.

I say that because I'm apparently at the age where I have a bad hip now? Like, both my hips were fine and then I just randomly woke up one morning, after having done NOTHING to require said injury, and now my left hip is my designated bad hip? Because it's always hurting and the cold doesn't help? Wtf?!!

Anyhoos... this past weekend was amazing and Dev and I (and our babies of course!) mostly stayed inside and hid from the rest of the world. We only ventured out on Saturday for a little bit to pick up a few grocery essentials (ie: pup food and chocolate milk) and the rest of the time? Spent together at the house. And I LOVED it. 

Our poor little Sparkles is still feeling rundown but I would like to say he's on the up-and-up of it. I mean, I would like to say it even though I don't know if it's true. We're basically on a routine of Tylenol and allergy meds to try and manage until this thing goes away. My poor baby, I just want all my guys to feel good.

Dev also gave me a few new tattoos while in our own lockdown (we made alot of pandemic references this past week so forgive me). I have a shit ton of ink now and honestly, I love it. Dev essentially helps me put my personality on the outside of my body and makes me feel pretty. Pretty colors and shapes and things that mean something to me. I feel like a walking art gallery and it makes me feel nice. I think the majority of people would be very surprised to see how much of my body is now covered... Dev's family would be pumped and think it matches my personality and quirkiness to a tee... my family... would probably have me committed and that's why I wear long sleeves around them. 

I'm kidding...mostly but not really at all.

OOOHHHH!! So Thanksgiving consisted of Dev, me and the pups at our house. We didn't see the need to have a ginormous meal with all the fixins (Dev is still recovering from mouth surgery and learning to chew again), so I made French dip roast and mashed taters with homemade beef gravy. Y'ALL. When I say that shit was delicious I'm not even trying to toot my own horn. But seriously, that shit was sooo good. 

I hadn't made homemade gravy in a damn minute. Don't get me wrong, I know how (pretty sure they'd have kicked me out of the holler if I hadn't learned), but it's been awhile. Honestly, the entire time I was making it I kept waiting for it to f*ck up. But, it never did and that shit was delicious. Seriously, even Dev said had he not already loved and been married to me, that gravy would have sealed the deal.

And in case you need any pointers for your next gravy run (you know, because expert now obviously), just know, add butter until that shit looks exactly how you want and think it will work. Sure, you may already be using another kind of fat to start off with (bacon/sausage grease, etc.), but honestly, if you get that shit too thick or clumpy, add some butter. It'll help and be delicious. 

Artery clogging but delightful.

So yeah, that's where we are with it. We had a wonderful few days but now it's time to get back to our everyday adult lives. And by that, I just mean I have to wear regular pants for like ten hours and then I'll be back home with my guys getting snuggles and snacks and lovin and tattoos and just living a good life with my babies.

Worth it. 

Happy Holidays from my family to yours!!

❤️ One of my guys is always in recovery. ❤️

You ever have one of those weeks where it feels like no matter what you do, you just can't catch up and be ok? That week ever extend far beyond said week and at this point you're like wtf?

Happened to me.

We've been a recovering household this past year and things have been all over the place. Dev's still in recovery and feeling better... but still... recovering... and now Sparkles has another hematoma.

Let me backtrack a little. Sparkles developed a hematoma on his left ear July '22. He had to have surgery and the recovery from that was awful. Poor little guy does not do well with anesthesia. Now, it's back. 

We're trying to deal with it a different way this time around and I'm seriously hoping that it works and he starts feeling better soon. My poor little fella is so f*cking pitiful.

With two of my three guys in recovery though, that means we're spending the next few weeks at home. Sparkles needs to be monitored basically 25/8 and Dev still isn't feeling the greatest, so we're essentially not leaving our house except for important instances (ie: I still have to go to work and stop by the grocery store on occasion). Xur and I are on "fix these dudes" duty.

Did I mention it's been a rough year?

That being said, at least it's a short week? I only have the rest of today to get through and then two more days and I'm home free for four days. Since we're staying home, I'll be cooking us Thanksgiving dinner (we're doing french dip taters and such) and we'll be spending all the time we can just hanging out and being with one another.

And honestly at the end of the day, that's the only thing that makes me feel better.

That never happens to me.

I think we can all agree we've had those moments in life where we're telling a story about our childhood, or something we regularly did throughout our life, thinking it's perfectly normal and all of the sudden somebody hits you with one of those THAT'S NOT F*CKING NORMAL, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

No? Just me then? I highly doubt that.

The point is, I'm usually on the colorful side of those stories. I'll pop off with some shit that I think is perfectly fine and people around me are like, are you ok? Because trauma. 

How was I supposed to know it wasn't normal to live in a tent and eat green beans and vienna sausages for weeks on end growing up? I'll go ahead and tell you, I DIDN'T. I thought it was normal to have to wear four layers of clothes to stay warm, and bathe using a spicket over the hill. Thought it was normal to work tobacco until your hands bled and for eight kids to share one bed because they didn't have shit either and y'all were just hanging out and living life.

Everybody doesn't have a bucket in the holler that substitutes for an outhouse? 

My bad.

I could keep going, but honestly, I don't need anymore reason for people to assume I need therapy. After reevaluating some things and reviewing my life, I've come to look at it as learning experiences and character building. And yeah, maybe there's some deflection and wishful thinking on my part. Perhaps it's denial in it's plainest form.

BUT I'm good with it and at the end of the day, it's given me a dark and morbid sense of humor. And let's be honest, those are the most fun.

HOWEVER, we went to Mavis's last night and when I tell you Mace popped off with some shit that even had me like WTF?!! I'm not exaggerating. 

I won't go into all the details (or any details really) but let's just say her family had an interesting way of dealing with a pet's passing when she was growing up and I'm pretty sure she's going to have her own three-part Netflix special in the coming years.

Not to mention, it really freaked Trav out and Dev and I teased him about it... but also talked about it on the way home and are hoping for the best, because maybe sociopaths? I don't know. All I know is our cousins/besties are forty some odd days away from having the baby and there is literally not a dull moment to be had when we're all hanging out.

Wish us luck though... because damn. We're just adults doing our best. And sometimes our best needs a f*cking vacation.

Happy Halloween! We didn't trick or treat but I made movie munch!! 🎃

Halloween is Dev and mine's favorite holiday. We don't necessarily go all out for it or anything (but I feel like we could be those people!), but it's for sure our shared favorite.

There's just something about spooky season that makes everything that much more fun and entertaining. The candy is delicious, fall colors are where it's at, and everyday horror movies are accepted.

Well... accepted by most people. For as much as he loves Halloween, horror movies aren't really D's thing.

However, he makes an exception for me during spooky season because I'M HIS FAVORITE. Ok, not really. I mean, I am his favorite but that's not why he does it. He does it because he loves me. That... and probably because he has me spoiled rotten.

No complaints.

We usually go with Greg and Gabriel to go trick-or-treating but with Dev's health scares this year and with his mouth still healing, we decided to not be out in the frigid weather all evening (we had snow flurries yesterday... not many BUT STILL). Instead, Bub took little man to do their thing and Dev and I stayed at the house and had snuggles, waffles, and Michael Myers.

Also, I made movie munch which is essentially a giant bowl of popcorn with all the other treats (candies, cookies, etc.) cut up and shaken in.

And I have no regrets. There's something about snuggling up when it's cold out and getting something warm in your belly and watching scary movies. It's probably the nostalgic feeling it provides me but either way, I'll take those warm fuzzy feelings.

We even got on a roll and watched two of the three newest Halloween movies. It's late and I have to work tomorrow but I also just want to stay up and keep having this feeling. I feel like this is how content people feel in the creeping hours of Christmas Eve and instead it hits me on Halloween.

Maybe it's weird, maybe I'm weird, but one way or the other, I wanna keep it.

❤️ Baby JTG for the win. ❤️

Yesterday was the day we all got together to celebrate Baby Jensen. And oh, what a celebration it was. To say once our motley crew gets together, things get hilarious (and tense) would be an understatement. It was a small turnout but it was so full of love (and soups!).

The party started around 3:00PM and of course in true us fashion, this set of Glisson's were damn near late. BUT we made it on time and honestly, I think we deserve a treat for that kind of punctuality (I literally was over two hours late to our wedding and haven't been on time for anything since that day).

Dev's still feeling pretty rough considering all the dental work he had done about two weeks ago but he was a f*cking trooper and couldn't stand the thought of missing out on a celebration of our cousin/friends baby! 

The pups had to chill at our house for the day (they usually go everywhere with us but it was a pup free zone considering the party was at their house and there was limited space) but don't worry about them. They were sleeping off D and mine's Friday spontaneous roadtrip so they were more than happy to sleep a Saturday away for a few hours.

We stayed for a few hours hanging out, opening presents, taking pictures, eating and such and then we headed to the house to chill for the rest of the weekend (I'm currently writing this via my pajamas in bed and have no regrets).

And the food?! JESUS. There was so much good food to be eaten... I think I gained four pounds. Potato soup, chili, bbq weenies, potato salad (we like taters in this family!)... the list goes on. I even made vanilla crinkle cookies (dyed blue!) and cream cheese frosted brownies (with blue frosting of course!) per Mavis's request. 

Full disclosure... my "blue" cookies and "blue" frosting had a touch of green to them but it still counts and I'm taking the win!

Mavis is so excited about JT getting here in the next couple of months (due in December like his daddy!) and we honestly can't wait to hold and snuggle and love the shit out of him. Speaking of Mavis, can we talk about how adorable they looked? They definitely have that new "we're about to have a baby and we're in love" glow about them and we are f*cking here for it.

Here's to Baby JTG and all the love this family has for each other.

Three years married to my Gatorbaby. ❤️❤️❤️

When I think about the fact we're married, there are times it still blows my mind. It's one of those things where I feel like I've been married for fifty years and four minutes all at the same time... in the very best of ways.

There is no one other than Dev I would want or would choose to spend my life with. He quite literally is the other piece of me and calls to my soul on an ethereal level. I was lucky. I know there are alot of people out there that say that, but I truly mean it.

He's not only an amazing husband, he's also my best friend. There's nothing that we do that we don't do together. He's my homie as much as he's my love and that in and of itself, to me, is priceless.

We were talking the other night... well... I was mostly incoherently rambling but that's besides the point... and I told D how much I loved being married to him. As most people know, I was steadfast in my whole "I'm never getting married" life plan. Honestly, after thinking it through, I realized that I didn't ever want to get married because I was scared.

I was scared that I would have to fight and argue and scream and be sad and live a lonely life if I was married. Because to me, that's what marriage was. That's what I had seen and that's what I knew. I've known very few people throughout my life that were "happy" and married. It's sad and confusing, but so very true.

But when Dev asked me to marry him, I knew he wouldn't make me live that life. I knew he just wanted me to be happy and healthy and to take care of each other and love each other as much as possible for however long was possible.

And that was a deal worth making.

He calls to my soul, makes everything feel better when he wraps me up, and truly is the greatest piece of myself I have to offer the world.

Happy Anniversary, my love. I know life is crazy and once again we're spending our anniversary in an unusual and unhip way (ah, the life of being an adult with health issues), but there's truly no one on this entire planet that could make me feel the way you do. You're my heart, my rock, my calm, and my storm. You're all the best of me stacked into one delicious 6'3 package and I'm so grateful that we found each other. 

I love you so deep in my bones, I don't know how my muscles hold up.

Hospital visits, X-Men, applesauce, towels, and Becks.

My little Gatorbaby finally had his oral surgery (10/9) that we've been waiting MONTHS on. The poor man has been in round the clock agony and to say we're relived for this part of the process to be done would be an understatement.

Now... he's a whole new kind of sore.

He came through the surgery fantastically (the docs words, not mine) and did so damn good with the anesthesia. That's the part we're always sketch on but everything went as smooth as possible (thanks!) and he was back to me in no time.

Well, I say no time now but it felt like an eternity and I was a little dramatic about it. Luckily, I was in the room by myself so the only person to actually see my internal freakout and constant leg shaking was... well... me. (I was a little on edge.)

Now, he has to go through the healing process (he's been doing pretty good and taking it like a champ!) and relearn a couple of things, go to a few more follow-up appointments and he'll be good to go. 

We spent his recovery time laid up in the bed (well... I didn't spend the whole time in the bed I was doing things around the house and for him... that's besides the point!) watching X-Men movies and the new Beckham documentary on Netflix (that I highly recommend!).

Like when I had my surgery, he's real sore and there's some frustration because you have to relearn to do so many things you don't even realize you do naturally (like holding your jaw). 

He also had three additional teeth at the bottom that had to be surgically removed (they had to cut his gum open to the bone... eek!) so he's more sore than I was... probably... it would make sense to me.

BUT he's recovering and his first follow-up appointment is on our third anniversary. Because we know how to party. I love that we're a legit old married couple even though we're still young.

There's mostly a diet of cup-a-noodles, applesauce, and jello happening at our house and we're staying inside as much as possible (the cold has hit the Midwest!). There's also a whole lot of relaxing, netflix-bingeing, and drool happening (maybe some tattooing... shh), so there's that.

All in all, I'm happy this step for him is over. I know he has a long road to go but the fact that he's sore from his surgery but not in constant throbbing pain is a bonus in my book. Trust me when I tell you it's a different kind of pain.

So basically, if anybody needs us, we'll be at home (with the exception of when I'm at work or we go to the grocery store) with each other doing as little aside from what we want as possible.

Momma always said, only the good die young.

Today would have been Momma's 59th birthday. It'll be five years this coming January without her and life is so very different than I had ever imagined it would be. I miss her like crazy and think about her often.

I try not to dwell and get stuck in my own head these days, but find I often space out throughout my time. Days like today make me think about how different things are and it makes me relieve my entire life in my head.

Like one big extended flash scene that you would only see in a movie. Images and faces, moments and time. The good and bad... the really good and the terribly bad. 

I'd be lying if I said I'm not a different person than I was five years ago. In fact, when I look back at the person I was, it's kind of hard to imagine I was there. Sure, I'm still me at my core but I'm certainly nowhere near the same. 

I would love to have Momma back. If I had that ability, no doubt. Hell, if I could even talk to her from the other side (whatever that may be), I would. But, I've also come to the realization that I can't. Sure, I've always known that but knowing something and truly accepting it are very different. 

Different moments, different feelings, different places in time and in your own mind.

I miss her. So much sometimes that it's still hard to breathe. 

But, like I said, I'm not the same person I was five years ago. I have my days where everything piles up and gets overwhelming and I just don't know what to do... I feel broken... but once I admitted that I actually had all these feelings and accepted that they were all justified, I found some peace. Not necessarily what I would call "coming to terms with" but my wishful thinking and ever prevalent mindset tend to have a more calming effect these days.

I would say I have my husband to thank for that. While I was very much on the train of bottling up all my feelings until they overwhelmed and disabled me (I was willing to go down swinging), he made me feel like it was ok to actually feel my feelings. I didn't want to, but rather I wanted them to be or not, they were there. I had to deal or I had to surrender and quite frankly, surrendering wasn't an option to me.

I came to a point where I started just feeling ok going on about my life. 

For years, I would make changes or do something differently and then I would feel nothing but guilt. Like, all consuming, can't get out of bed, existential "what kind of person even am I" crisis levels of guilt. I would think to myself, how can I even make these decisions and move forward without her here? It felt wrong and like I was betraying her.

I'm not sure when it happened. I don't recall if it was an exact moment or a bunch of little moments all rolled into one but one day I made a decision and I just felt... I don't even really know what I felt... perhaps relief. Relief that for the first time in a long time, I was ok.

Sure, I'm not what some people would consider ok. Mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. I have my bad days and I have those moments where I'm so overwhelmed I can't think straight. I have days where all I want to do is lay down and not get back up until it feels like I should. Days where my anxiety gets the best of me and my emotions are so overwhelming I can't help but let them spill out everywhere no matter the mess it may create. 

I have those days. More often than I'd like to admit, my mental health gets the best of me. I struggle and at times, I feel weak because I can't just "fix" it. I don't know what's wrong with me... sometimes it will be the littlest things that send me over the edge. But, they show up and there I am rocking on the precipice running through every single decision I've ever made in my head.

But then there are the other days. The days where I feel strong and capable. The days that I love just being me and the person that I am. The days that I cuddle with my husband and play with our pups and live my life with the mindset that I only get one and I decide what kind of life it's going to be.

I was talking to Dev the other night, and at the end of the conversation I realized that I had not only been living my entire life with my mother on a pedestal but I had a deep desire for her to be proud of me. Not just proud but I wanted to just be enough for her. I saw so many people throughout my life treat my mother shitty and just be horrible to her when she didn't deserve it. I'm not saying she was perfect but she certainly was better than what people bothered to show her.

I took care of her and had a deep need to be everything that she needed. I wanted to make up for the fact she had a less than stable childhood. I wanted to make her see that it didn't matter she had two divorces and both husbands were terrible people in general. I wanted to be enough to where she didn't worry about the drinking and the drugs that she had done in the past. I wanted to be able to make her happy and content and live the best life she possibly could while it was in my capabilities.

And I would do it all again, without hesitation. I have no regrets when it comes to taking care of Momma. People over the years have mentioned the things I gave up, the late start with others. And I would agree. I most certainly didn't live a normal adult life. My world quite literally revolved around her and anything her little heart desired. Was it healthy? Probably not. In fact, it was probably incredibly unhealthy and a therapist would most definitely have a few things to say about it. But, whether right or wrong, I would do it again.

Because she was her and I love her beyond all reasonable explanation. She was my truest friend, greatest champion, and a devoted mother. She had her flaws like everyone else but no matter the flaw, I loved her. She loved me through mine and I loved her through hers and that was that.

But after I lost her, I had to figure out what to do. Where to go. How to move forward. 

It wasn't easy. Hell, it still isn't easy. I don't know if life is ever really easy for anyone. We all have our own problems and stories and whose to say one is a greater tragedy than another?

My greatest hurdle was without a doubt the guilt. The guilt of moving forward in my own way without the nagging feeling of "am I a terrible person for trying to be happy?" The guilt of needing to figure out who I am as a person on my own, meaning I had to go back and examine and think through and make decisions based on my entire life starting with my childhood. The guilt of realizing that I'm not ok with everything that has happened to me and I'm not ok with some of the thoughts that have been put in my head throughout my entire life.

The guilt of coming to the realization I had some major parts of myself that I had always been afraid of changing but felt the need to change. The guilt from realizing that it was fear of not being good enough that made me such a people pleaser and prohibited me from making decisions in my life that I truly wanted to make. And then, the guilt of realizing it seemed like I was painting my mother in a negative light when that was the furthest thing from what I wanted to do.

I lived with this guilt and if I'm being completely honest, it ate at me. Every single day for a very long time. No matter the circumstance or thought, all I felt was guilt. So much guilt that it was crippling and would bring me to my knees. I mean, how dare I have this amazing mother and then have the audacity to questions anything, right?

And then one day I realized it was ok.

It was ok to be the person I wanted to be. And it was ok to think what I thought, have my own opinions. It was ok to make changes in my life to live the life that was going to make me happy and it was ok that I'm not ok with everything. I came to the conclusion... and while this may be whimsical thinking on my part... that just because I have objections and questions to my past doesn't mean that I love her any less. I don't have to agree with everything she said or did, I don't have to live my life according to her rules or principles, I don't have to be who I thought she wanted me to be. I could just be me and that was ok. I could make the changes, and have the doubts, and propose the questions, and do the work and it wasn't for anybody but me. I didn't have to live in this bubble that I had created out of fear of not being good enough. And that was ok. There was no reason to feel guilty about it... it was just... ok.

I often ask myself if Momma would be proud of me. Because I think a little part of me will always want her to be proud of me. And honestly, the answer is always vague. Do I think she would like the decisions I've made, the ways I've changed? The clothes I wear, the tattoos I have, the stance I take with other people? The questions I ask or the opinions I'm now free and easy with? And the answer to that is simply no. I don't for one second kid myself into thinking Momma would like this from her daughter. She was amazing but she was also stubborn and liked things her way. You know that old saying "my way or the highway"? Yeah, Elizabeth Ann coined that phrase, I'm sure of it. So no, I think she would have a whole lot of opinions on the way her daughter goes about her life.

But also, as a person? Someone she just looked at and thought to herself, that's a good one? I could laugh and hang out with and love and be around that person? I think she would look past all of it and see me as a person and like me. The things I've overcome, the way I've managed and dealt, the love I have for the life I live, and the way I choose to treat people. She may not have wanted it from her daughter but as a person? Yeah, I think she would be really proud of me. 

And one day, I realized that was enough for me. I didn't have to be perfect and live in any certain image. Because deep down I try to be a good person. I make mistakes and I have flaws and I am so far off the perfect spectrum I can't even see it in my rearview. And all of that was ok because I not only found my way through but I continue to try and keep finding my way through.

I thought about it and I had never really stopped to ask myself if I was happy. Sure, I felt happiness throughout my life but I had never really stopped to consider if I was happy to my core. I had apparently been in survival mode for so long that basic emotions seemed like a foreign concept to me. And once I decided that the only way I was going to be able to move forward was to try and find my happy the rest kind of just fell into place.

Am I all cured and mentally stable? Nope. But am I happy and trying my best? Yes. And yeah, that's enough.

With all that being said, I feel like I should say I do think Momma is with me on the regular. Whether she approves or not, she's there. Like she always was. Today on my way home for lunch, while driving through an intersection, a woman ran a red light and almost hit me. At the last minute the car in front of me decided to hit their brakes and turn left and therefore, took the hit to their front instead of what would have been my drivers side door. And I can't help but to think, if that wasn't Momma, it sure as hell is a coincidence that I got that "lucky" on her birthday.

Happy Birthday, Momma. I love you so much it hurts and I miss you every single day. I sure do hope my Tayder is keeping you in good company and you're as happy and feel as amazing as you possibly can. Because you deserve it. Any and everything I could never give, you deserve. That and so much more. Don't worry about me, I'm tough as nails and we both know you didn't raise no quitter (and if you did, it was definitely my brother). Thanks for keeping an eye out for me and I'll continue to try and be happy. Because I know no matter what, you always wanted that for me. I love you, Momma.

Catch up... not to be confused with ketchup.

Life has been... lately. Things seem to be moving at warp speed and slowly crawling all at once. If I'm being perfectly honest, it feels a little Twilight-zoney around these parts.

But I digress... mostly because I don't know where that potential ramble is headed off to.

Our days are basically filled with work (both me at the shop and D at the house) and spending all the rest of the time together when possible. 

We finally got a call about Dev's oral surgery... they can't fit him in until October 9th. I'm so frustrated with that but also just want it done so he can stop being in constant pain. Poor man literally just has a toothache round the clock and I feel miserable for him because I know he's miserable as hell. We're just waiting on all the calls from the hospital and labs to confirm appointments/etc. Hopefully, things will go streamlined from here... fingers crossed!

Dev took me to my "lady" doctor appointment a couple weeks ago and I go in tomorrow to have my Kyleena changed out (its due in September). Thankfully, my insurance still covers birth control (for now) so while I'm not looking forward to being poked and prodded, I am happy to have this taken care of on the quick and up.

We've been spending quite a bit of time with Mavis and the cutest little Bean on the planet. We've come to the conclusion that we can rock this whole Aunt/Uncle life. Kids might not be our forte (we're not having any of our own) but dog parents/auntie-uncle life? We got this. Along with spending so much time with Mavis comes the fact we all have many more tattoos than what we started with. Dev and I counted the other night and he's on like forty-five/six and I'm on thirteen, I think? We're basically just all walking canvases at this point. I ain't mad at it.

Dev, Greg, Gabby and I went on a nice long bike ride yesterday. We were gone about four hours and had a real nice time. We ended up riding down to Morgan and Dev and I talked about moving out there someday and finding our forever home. That would be hilarious, right? For me to move myself and my husband and our kids (pups but they count!) to the first ever town I remember living in. Talk about full circle.

Other than that, we've essentially just been living life and going about our business. Work for me has been insane and busy as all get out (though I'm not mad at it and prefer to stay steady busy instead of lagging around) and Dev has been doing lots of cleaning and reorganizing the house. 

I would be lying if I said I didn't miss my Tayderbug so damn bad. Honestly, I look for him everywhere and think about him constantly. I just want to hold and cuddle him and love on him after a long day. But I can't and that makes me so incredibly sad. I still go looking for him and listen for him every single day. Dev told me it wasn't a "habit" that I do this, it's just my natural instinct for almost two decades, so it's going to take some time to be ok. Because I am not ok with it. I mean, I'm "ok" but I'm not "ok." Ok? Ok.

At the end of the day though we're just doing what we can... we're dreaming and making plans and loving each other.

The last nineteen years of my life replayed in a flash.

No, I am not ok.

On July 26, 2023 I had to do one of the very hardest things that I've ever done in my entire life. 

I had to say goodbye to my Tayder pup.

I can't even begin to explain what I'm feeling right now. I feel empty but also like I need to throw up everything that's not even in my body. I feel numb but my chest aches with a burning persistence. I can't stop bursting into random tears and I feel weak.

Mentally, physically, emotionally, psychologically.

Some people might call it drained, but I don't feel drained, I feel completely and utterly weak. 

Tayder was my true North. No matter what horrible thing happened in my life or what ridiculous circumstance tried to break me, Tayder was always steadfast in his love and loyalty. I never had to question if he loved me and I never had to worry about someone coming along and him taking to them more. I always knew where we stood, because we always stood together.

He's been there since I was fifteen years old. We were both babies but he put all his love, trust and complete blind faith into me. And I know to most people they would think, "oh, you've had a dog since you were a teen, that's cool." But, he wasn't a dog. And I didn't just get a dog when I was a teen.

I received the greatest blessing I had ever received and I truly feel he is my baby. Maybe I didn't birth him, but we've been together for so long and I love him so deeply, that it honestly feels like I lost my child. And I don't care if that sounds dumb to other people or if they never understand, because even I can't explain it.

Him not being here with me just feels completely and utterly wrong.

And I knew our time together wasn't going to be forever. I was extremely lucky, my Tayder got to live until he was over twenty-two years old and lord knows everyone other than me counted him out long ago. But, no matter how much I knew and how much I would try to prepare myself, there was just no way.

Even I couldn't have foreseen how this was going to feel. I knew it was going to hurt, there was no way it couldn't, but I never in my whole life would have been able to know it would hurt this bad. 

Nothing other than losing momma has ever hurt this bad in my entire life. Nothing.

When I was eleven years old, I was with my brother and some of our friends playing in the woods. One thing lead to another and I ended up entangled in some barb-wire. Shit cut me up and was embedded so far into my thighs that a friend had to hold me up while two others had to pull the wire out. He carried me home and I was laid up for weeks in pain, constantly trying to get my legs to stop bleeding everywhere.

And still, that didn't hurt this bad. If it would bring my Tayder back, I would wrap myself in barb-wire from head to toe, light myself on fire and go cliff diving.

Unfortunately, no matter how much I want or wish, that's one thing I can't have back. It's so surreal for me to know I will never hold or cuddle Tayder again because even though I know it's completely real, it still doesn't feel like it is.

I still look for him every single time I walk into our house. I still watch for him every time I come around a corner or step down off our bed. I still listen for the little click-clack of his toes for when he wandered to the ends of the house and back.

Empty. Numb. Void. I wouldn't know what the word that I'm feeling is. I'm lost but know exactly where I am. I'm devastated and somehow have an endless supply of tears. Quite literally the only thing I want to make me feel better is... well... Tayder.

And I know I'll be ok... I think.

And I know what happened couldn't have been prevented... I think.

And I know I did the right thing... I think.

Somehow, someway, I can't help but to feel I have betrayed him. I don't think he would see it that way and I don't think anybody else does... hell, I wouldn't think that about anybody else in the exact same situation. 

But... it wasn't someone else. It was me and Tate. And to say the decision I had to make will haunt me for a long time... perhaps forever... would be an understatement. Because I know it will, it already does. And I would do it again for him in a heartbeat, but that doesn't make it any easier.

Maybe this is the price I have to pay for having him as long as I did and for loving him as much as I do. 

He gave me so many wonderful and blessed and special and amazing years and I never felt I could ever repay him for everything he gave to me. And maybe that's why it hurts so bad. Maybe this is the price at the end of the road. You know, when all is said and done and the final say is said.

But, you know what? If this is the price that has to be paid, then I guess I'll pay the toll. Because I wouldn't trade all the years and memories and moments that I have with my Tayder for anything. 

I'll cry and I'll grieve and I'll keep going because I know the little shit was training me for it. Always making me stronger and more caring and filling me so full of love.

I love you, Tayder. 

I've loved you since the first minute I looked up into that crate and you gave me a kiss on the nose. I was a sucker for you then and I love you more than I ever thought I could love another living being. You're my rock, my heart, and forever ingrained into my soul. I'll always have a piece of you with me and I know you're never too far when I need you. Thank you for being there for me at my worst times and pulling me through the deep end. I honestly don't know where I would be or what kind of person I would be without you.

You taught me patience, understanding and the true meaning of unconditional love. You're my baby and will forever be my little trooper.

I love you. So very much. And I'm gonna miss you so damn much more than I already do. But, I got this. You've done all you could do and now it's up to me to keep going through. I'll figure it out because if you've taught me anything over all the years we've been together, it's that I'm stronger than what even I think.

And I feel that because of you, Tayder. I love you.